SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) (9 page)

Chapter 9

It took me two hours, three cable cars and two cabs to get back to the mayor’s house. He lived in a gated neighborhood, with nicely manicured lawns and large colonial houses. Next time, I would ask Dodge to call me a cab and send a note or something to the place I needed to go. It sure would be easier.

It was after midnight when I spotted the mayor’s home. His was one of the larger houses in the neighborhood, sporting a four car garage and several large fountains in the front yard. I walked through the mayor’s oak double front doors. The place was dark, except for a small amount of moonlight that shone through a bank of floor to ceiling windows and reflected off of a massive crystal chandelier that hung in the foyer.

He was probably sleeping, and this was a waste of my time. What else did I have to do? I might as well check on him and then go over to the escort service. I strolled up the circular staircase and entered the master bedroom. It was overdone in floral prints, a loveseat and gigantic canopy bed. His wife slept soundly in the bed, but no mayor. Maybe he had his own room? How could any man sleep in a place with this many flowers? I checked the rest of the house – no mayor. What does a mayor do at midnight, I wondered?

I decided to leave and check on the escort service. Surely someone would be home in that place at midnight. As I walked out the mayor’s front door, he came in and behind him another man - short, stocky, dirty blonde hair with a scowl on his face.

I followed them into a room in the back of the house. Bookshelves lined two walls and a huge oak desk sat in the middle of the room. It must be the mayor’s home office.

The mayor pointed to a leather chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat, Allen.”

This must be the mayor’s driver, the man Dodge was interviewing tomorrow morning. I sat in the chair next to him.

“What’s up, Boss?”

“You need to go into the police station tomorrow around eight. The cops need to interview you.” Mayor Phillips’s expression was matter-of-fact.

Allen sat forward in the chair, his eyes widened with panic and fear. “Why?”

“He wants to know about my alibi for the night Mandy was killed.”

“What are we telling him?”

“It’s okay to tell him the truth. Somehow he guessed I was doing something besides sleeping with Mandy. I gave him the same story I fed my wife.”

“You told him you had hired her to be a surrogate for you and your wife?”

The mayor laughed. “My vain wife bought the stupid story when Mandy told me she was pregnant and I had spent so much time practicing it for her that it was easy to convince Dodge.”

How had I missed interpreting the Mayor’s deception? Mandy wasn’t a surrogate, she was just pregnant with the mayor’s child. I didn’t remember seeing anything about that on her autopsy report. I think it would have mentioned the fact that she was pregnant. Maybe she lied to the mayor?

“What if he asks me where I went after I dropped Mandy off?”

“Tell him you went to the gym. I’ll get one of the boys to add your name to the sign-in sheet and alibi you.”

“Okay,” Allen said, then took out a notepad. “I’ve got the latest figures for you.”

“Great.” The mayor took a folder from his desk. “Give me the booking room totals first.”

Allen spent the next hour giving the mayor figures for money taken in at four different bookie joints, the drug distribution network, and then finally they went on to businesses that paid money for protection. Seventeen businesses had paid over two thousand dollars each month to keep their businesses from being vandalized.

“What about the jewelry shop?” the mayor asked.

“That old man says the police are going to protect his business and he still refuses to pay.”

“Give a couple of the boys a call on your way home and send them over there tomorrow night. Break a few windows, and tell the boys to help themselves to the items in the display cases. That should bring him around.” His eyes darkened and a grin spread across his face.

I leaned over Allen’s shoulder and memorized the address. 1630 Market Street. Devon’s Jewelry Exchange. Good information to pass on to Dodge and get a few of the mayor’s boys picked up. Of course, chances were they didn’t know they worked for the mayor. Maybe they’d roll over on Allen, who might give Dodge the mayor if he thought it could help him.

The mayor stood. “Okay, Allen. Let’s call it a night. Pick me up at nine in the morning if you are done with the cops.”

“And if I’m not?”

The mayor shrugged. “Call my cell phone and let me know. I’ll get another driver to take me to my ten o’clock meeting.”

Allen nodded, and then glared at the mayor. “If I need a lawyer?”

“I’ll send one.”

“Okay.” Allen stood and the mayor walked him out of the house, went back in his office, dialed a number, and leaned back in his chair.

“It’s me.” Several seconds of silence, then, “Allen’s talking to the cops tomorrow at eight.”

The mayor listened.

“We can’t take any chances. Take care of him tonight.”

He hung up the phone, turned off the lights, and went upstairs to bed.

What did that mean? Was the mayor having Allen killed before he could talk to Dodge tomorrow? How fast could I get back to Dodge’s house? It had taken me two hours to get to the mayor’s house. I ran from the house and out into the street. If I could get to the police station, then I could run over to Dodge’s apartment. I spotted a police cruiser coming up the street. Probably assigned to drive by the mayor’s residence and make sure everything was okay.

I walked in front of the car and slid into the patrolman’s body as the car went by. Now what? How do you get a cop to go back to the station? End of shift? I couldn’t wait for that. Who knew when that would be? Pick up a bad guy? That could take all night and maybe wouldn’t happen at all. If he felt sick, he might return to the station, right? I don’t really have any control when I’m inside but maybe I could make him feel nauseated. I hate broccoli, so I tried thinking about broccoli. Nothing. He probably loves it. Then I started running the autopsy photos through my mind, picturing every bloody detail and then all my memories of the people I’d watched die, their bodies withering away.

The patrolman’s pulse accelerated and his stomach rumbled. He turned the car around at the end of the street, put on his lights and sirens, and sped toward the station. As he opened his door, he vomited all over the street but I had already left his body, running toward Dodge’s apartment.

I rushed into Dodge’s bedroom. He was sound asleep.

“Dodge!” I screamed.

No response.

“Dodge, Dodge! Wake up!” I waved my arms and yelled at the top of my lungs.

No response.

He had to be the heaviest sleeper ever. I didn’t have any choice. Allen would die if I didn’t do something. Dodge had told me never to do it but I jumped into his body anyway. His pulse raced and warmth spread over my entire body. He had to be dreaming, probably about his wife. I didn’t know what, but I had to put a screeching halt to it. First I tried the autopsy photos, but they didn’t have any effect. If he was dreaming about his wife, then inserting my picture might break the dream. I began thinking about myself in all the different outfits I had tried. When I got to the string bikini, his pulse rate went higher and so did mine. It felt so good I wanted to just let go and ride the wave but a man’s life was in jeopardy and this wasn’t fair to Dodge or me. It wasn’t like we could actually have any kind of real relationship.

I started thinking about my father, Dexter, the mayor, and any other man I could think of. Dodge’s pulse went back to normal. I took a deep breath and screamed at the top of my lungs, while I was still inside Dodge. “Wake up!”

Immediately, Dodge sat up in bed, shook his head and looked around the room. “Samantha?”

I slipped out behind him, so he wouldn’t see that I climbed into his body, then walked around the bed.

“Dodge. The mayor’s going to have Allen killed.”

“What?”

I sat down on the bed. “When I was at the mayor’s house, he called someone and told him to take care of Allen.”

“Why?”

“How about you get dressed, call for some backup or whatever cops do, and I’ll tell you all about it on the way?”

He frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“Okay.” Dodge jumped up and ran to the bathroom.

I lay down on the bed, closed my eyes, and remembered the sensations I had felt when inside Dodge’s body. The warmth spread over me. It wasn’t real, it was just a memory. Man, it sucks to be dead.

Dodge came out a few minutes later. His hair was soaking wet and he had a white towel wrapped around his waist.

My heart rate immediately accelerated. I took a deep breath, trying to settle my body’s reaction to him. Then I sat up and asked, “What did you do?”

“I needed a cold shower – to wake up.”

I could use that cold shower, too, and not to wake up.

“Get out of here, Samantha, so I can get dressed.”

I smiled. “Don’t trust me to close my eyes?”

“Out.” He tilted his head toward the door.

“Okay, okay.” I slid off the bed and left the room.

I went into the living room, sat on the couch, and tried to pick up the remote for the television set. No matter how hard I concentrated, my hand just went through the table. It was aggravating.

A few minutes later, Dodge came out of the bedroom dressed in black jeans, dark blue polo shirt, with his gun tucked into his shoulder holster. He grabbed a brown bomber jacket from the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to pick up the remote.”

“Why?”

“I thought about what you said, about me being able to sit and lie down on things without falling through them. If I can do that I should be able to pick something up.” I reached for the remote and my hand went through the table again. “Damn it!”

“Come on, Samantha. Let’s go get Allen.”

“Okay.” I followed Dodge out of the apartment and into an elevator. “Where are we going?”

“Allen lives across town, so we’re taking my car. It’s parked in the basement lot.”

“But cars aren’t allowed in the city limits?” I remarked.

A slow smile slid across his face, “They are if it has flashing red and blue lights and a cop at its wheel.”

In the basement, Dodge walked up to an old dark blue car. I had never seen one like it before. “Is this your dad’s car?”

“Yep, a replica of a 1974 Dodge Dart Sport. It’s a beauty, isn’t it?”

“If you say so.” Personally, I preferred the sleek black Jaguar sports car that I used to drive, but I kept my comment to myself. He opened the passenger door and I slid in. “Your dad doesn’t drive it anymore?”

“My dad passed on a few years ago and left me the car.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He started the engine. “He was sick with cancer for a long time and his passing was a blessing.”

“What about your mom? Is she still alive?”

“Yes.”

“Does she live around here?”

“No.” He pulled out of his parking slot.

One word answers? I guessed he didn’t want to discuss his mom. Maybe they didn’t get along? I had a great relationship with my parents. They did their thing and I did mine – it was perfect. If I had known they would die so young, I would have spent more time with them.

“Tell me about the mayor and Allen,” Dodge said as he drove out of the garage.

I told him what I heard at the mayor’s house.

“That scum.”

“Who? The mayor or Allen?”

“Both.”

Dodge got on the phone and called the station. He spoke with several different people and then got a patrol car to meet us at Allen’s house. While he was on the phone, I tried to touch the dashboard. My hand kept going right through it.

Dodge looked over as he hung up his phone. “Maybe you’re trying too hard.”

I closed my eyes and slowly reached for the dashboard. When I opened my eyes, my hand was all the way through it. “This stinks.”

“When was the first time you sat some place and realized that you could actually sit there?”

“I’ve always been able to sit places. Even in the very beginning when I was with the dying patients, I was able to sit in a chair in their room.”

“I didn’t think that being dead would be so complicated.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Well, I certainly didn’t ask for this. It’s so frustrating. Who makes up these rules, anyway? If it’s God, he has a warped sense of humor.”

“You’ve never seen anyone else? Any other dead people?”

“No, that’s really the weird part. Why haven’t I moved on? Why am I not in heaven?”

“Is something keeping you here?”