SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

I got in the front seat of the patrol car.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, slurring his words.

I ignored him.

“Come on, beautiful. Talk to me.”

The young patrolman laughed. “I’m not your type, Stan. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, cop!” bellowed Stan. “I don’t swing that way.”

The patrolman started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

I ignored Stan, who kept begging me to help him get out of the car.

Finally, I turned around and said, “If you don’t shut up, I’m going to find your wife and tell her what you’ve been up to the last several hours.”

Stan jerked his head back. “I’m not married.”

I laughed, glancing down at the obvious tan line on the ring finger of his left hand. “Do you want me to tell her you said that, too?”

Stan shook his head, then tilted to his side, falling onto the backseat. He was asleep in seconds.

A few minutes later the police cruiser pulled into the station parking lot. As I left, the patrolman pulled Stan out of the car and cursed when Stan puked on the ground barely missing his black boots.

I walked the three blocks to Dodge’s apartment. Several people filled the street wrapped in warm coats and rushing to their destinations. I walked through the front lobby door and found Dexter pounding on the front door.

“Open the door, Dodge,” he shouted.

I didn’t wait.

I raced into the apartment. Why did I leave him? If he killed himself, it would be my fault. My heart pounded double time, my lungs tight with fear. This was quite an accomplishment since I didn’t have a heart or a set of lungs.

Dodge lay on his back in the middle of his bed, arms outstretched, still wearing the same outfit. I couldn’t feel for a pulse, but his chest didn’t seem to be moving.

The first person who could ever see me and he would move on and I would be stuck here!

Chapter 8

There wasn’t any blood or a gunshot wound. Lying on the floor next to the bed was an empty tequila bottle, and on the nightstand a bottle of prescription medicine. It was open and the pills were spilled out. An overdose?

I heard a crash. Dexter ran into Dodge’s bedroom, picked up the bottle of prescription medicine, and swore. He panted, trying to catch his breath and slow the vivid pulse in his neck, barely containing the anger and fear that simmered under the surface. “Damn it, Dodge.”

I stood back, feeling helpless.

Dexter grabbed Dodge under his arms and dragged him into the bathroom. I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched as Dexter put Dodge into the bathtub and turned on the shower.

Dodge immediately started spitting, coughing, and screaming, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Saving your life!” Dexter yelled back.

“I wasn’t trying to kill myself.” He tried to sit up, slipped and fell back into the tub.

Dexter stepped back and turned off the shower, emotions leaking out of him like a broken dam. “You weren’t?”

“No, I had a little too much tequila.” He ran his fingers through his hair, combing it out of his eyes and, then, flicked the water at Dexter.

Dexter dodged the flying water and said, “You were supposed to come back to the station at six, so we could compare notes about the investigation.”

“Didn’t you get my note?”

“What note?”

“The one I left with the front desk clerk.”

Dexter put the toilet seat down and sat. “What did it say?”

“That we would meet tomorrow morning at eight.”

“Why?”

“I arranged for one of the people we need to talk to about Mandy’s last few hours to be at the station at eight for us to interview.”

“Who?”

“Allen Jorgensen. He’s the mayor’s driver.”

“What’s the mayor got to do with this?”

Dodge stuck out his hand. “Give me a towel and I’ll fill you in.”

Dodge got out of the tub, dried off, and came out of the bathroom. He spotted me immediately. “Go in the kitchen and make me some coffee, Dexter.”

Dexter frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, I’m going to change into something dry. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay.”

Dexter left and Dodge walked over to the bed. “Where the hell did you go?”

His eyes were narrow slits and his tone was angry. What the hell was he mad about? He was the one that was being a jerk in the car. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that it bothered me.

I smiled broadly at him. “I went to the Crab Shack on Pier 39.”

“Have fun?”

“Yes.”

“Going to stick around this time?”

Now his tone wasn’t angry, but I felt like I was being scolded for misbehaving. I reacted like I always did to anyone chewing me out; I lowered my head and nodded.

“Good, I want to talk to you, but I’ve got to get rid of Dexter first.”

“I’ll wait here.” I lay down on the bed.

Dodge pulled off his wet shirt and grabbed another from a drawer. He started to take off his pants, but he looked back at me. “Close your eyes.”

“Okay.” I closed my eyes.

“Can you see me?” Dodge asked.

“No,” I lied. What was the man thinking? I’m a ghost. If I can walk through walls, what makes him think that I can’t see through my eyelids? I concentrated on a spot on the ceiling rather than him.

Dodge came to the bed and stood over me. He was dressed in a black jogging suit. I opened my eyes and smiled.

The corners of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk. “That was stupid, wasn’t it?”

“What? You drinking too much tequila or asking me to close my eyes?”

“Yeah well, maybe both.” He laughed. Now his tone was light and his eyes glistened. “Take a nap, Samantha. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Dodge left the bedroom and went into the kitchen with Dexter. I didn’t nap and getting rid of Dexter took longer then a few minutes. After an hour, I wandered into the kitchen. The men were huddled over files.

“You see, Dexter, this Allen Jorgensen has two arrests for assaults on women.”

“Then why is he the mayor’s driver?”

“It’s part of the mayor’s rehabilitation program.”

“Well, if it turns out he killed Mandy, the program is definitely not a success.”

Dodge spotted me standing in the doorway. He patted Dexter on the shoulder. “Let’s call it a night. I’ve got to go through all of this with Marge again tomorrow.”

Dexter looked intently at Dodge. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine, Dexter.”

“The mayor talking about having a baby didn’t push you over the edge?”

“It did a little bit, but I’m okay.”

“What about the pills on the nightstand?”

“The doctor gave me those to sleep after Cynthia was killed. I’ve never taken any, but thought I might need them after my talk with the mayor.”

“And?”

“A stiff drink of tequila worked better.”

“Just don’t mix them, okay?”

Dodge stood. “Maybe I’ll dump the pills down the toilet.”

“Good idea.” Dexter got up and the two men walked toward the front door.

Dexter picked up the broken front door from where it had landed in the living room. He handed it to Dodge. “Sorry about your door.”

“That’s okay, Dexter. I’ll get the super to fix it.”

“See you tomorrow, Dodge.”

“Eight o’clock at the station.”

“I’ll call Marge and let her know.”

“Thanks.”

Dexter turned. He looked like he wanted to hug Dodge, but instead he extended his hand and the two men shook.

Dexter left and Dodge leaned the door against the opening, then turned to me. “Is running away your way of avoiding conflict?”

“Excuse me?”

“I was pissed off after talking to the mayor and, instead of asking me why, you just took off. Is that what you always do?”

“No. Besides, I didn’t run away. I went to the Crab Shack.”

He shook his head. “Same thing.”

“Why were you mad at the mayor?”

“Besides the fact that he’s scum and his wife’s a prima donna?”

“Yes.”

He went over and sat on the couch. I joined him. “My wife and I tried to have children but it just didn’t work. We spent thousands of dollars going to specialists. We tried it all, from in vitro to artificial insemination. Nothing worked. We decided to adopt, but I didn’t make enough money as a cop to qualify. Finally, the only thing left was a surrogate.”

“A surrogate is cheaper than adoption?” I asked.

“No, but all of the prenatal care, hospital charges, and doctor visits would be covered under my health insurance.”

“Why didn’t you try that before going to an adoption agency?”

“Because half of the surrogates change their minds after the babies are born and keep them. We didn’t want to go through nine months of watching and waiting and in the end not have a child to bring home.”

“You finally decided to try it?”

“Yes. We went through the Surrogate Women’s Association, interviewed several women and picked out a candidate.”

“Did she decide to keep the baby?”

“No, we never got that far. Cynthia was killed and they don’t give babies to single fathers. It’s against the rules.”

“That sucks.”

“Yes, it does. I followed the rules, went through the right channels, and I still got screwed. The mayor found his own surrogate at an escort service, paid her to have his kid, and if she hadn’t been killed, they’d have a child.”

“I can see where that might upset you a bit.”

Dodge stared at me.

“Okay, I can see where it might piss you off a lot.”

He nodded his head, then lowered his gaze at me. “Do you always run away from a fight?”

I nodded, winked at him and smiled. “As often as I can.”

He laughed. It was rich and full. “You are something, Samantha Gerald.”

I shrugged. “Just honest.”

“I like that. Too many people tell you what you want to hear.”

I shrugged again. “What do I have to lose?”

“I could tell you to go away?”

“I wouldn’t go, so how could you make me?”

“An exorcism?”

It was one thing I hadn’t tried. Maybe I could move on if Dodge found a priest to do an exorcism. “Do you think that might work?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Do you want me to find someone who can do it?”

“No,” I shook my head. “Not right now.”

“Good,” he smiled. “I enjoy having you around.”

“Thanks, Dodge.”

“You look nice in your new outfit.” His face flushed.

His embarrassment amused me, although my heart kicked into overdrive.

“I think I’m going to turn in.” He stood up. “It’s been a long night.”

“Good idea.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Do you need to rest?”

“No, I never get tired.”

Dodge yawned, and then quickly covered his open mouth with his hand. “Good skill.”

“Is there anything you want me to check out while you’re sleeping?”

He tilted his head. “You’d do that?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, go back to the escort service and see if anyone is talking about Mandy’s death. You could also check on the mayor and see what he’s up to this evening. You might also swing by Sharece’s corner and see how business is today. Then you…”

I put my hand up. “Pick one. I’m not planning on spending my evening running around the city. Remember I can’t just hail a taxi and jump in.”

“Oh, that’s true. Spend some time with the mayor. I’d like to know what he’s up to.”

“What if he goes to bed?”

“Then maybe the escort service.”

I saluted him. “You’ve got it, Boss.”

Dodge reached up to pull my hand down, but his hand went right through my arm. He frowned. “How come you can lie on my bed without falling through, but can’t be solid enough for me to touch or for you to touch something?”

“I don’t know.”

He shook his head and walked away. Under his breath, I heard him mutter, “There are those three little words again.”

I watched as he walked down the hallway and into his bedroom. He brought up an interesting point. I could lie on a bed or sit in a taxi without falling through. Why couldn’t I pick up a glass or touch someone? I went in and sat down at the kitchen table. No problem. On the table were the files that Dodge and Dexter had been reviewing. I closed my eyes and concentrated. Then I stretched my hand out and tried to grab the files. No luck. My hand went right through the table. Could I sit on the table? I tried that and fell through. I landed solidly on the floor.

Being a ghost had some strange rules, or maybe I just hadn’t learned how to make my hands solid enough to grab something. I could practice later. Now, I had a mayor to check up on.