CnC 1 Ghost of a Chance Read online

  Her eyes were filled with an aching disappointment, and I desperately wanted to wipe that hurt away. With a little cough, she threw her arms around my waist, sobbing into my sweater. I held her with one arm as I motioned to Cinnamon with the other. “We’re closing early. Could you run the deposit across the street for me and drop it in the night box before you head home?”

  Cinnamon nodded, her face grave. I handed her the envelope and watched as she made her way across the icy street and dropped it into the night deposit box. Then she turned, waved, and headed for her car.

  “Come on, kids.” I bundled them into their coats. “We can go home together now—Murray and I cleared out the nasty ghost. We’ll talk about this after we get there.”

  * * * *

  By the time we got home, Miranda had calmed down enough to where she was just sniffling. I tried to think of something to make things better, but she shook off my overtures. Finally I repeated my apology and told the kids to wash up for dinner.

  She stomped off to the bathroom. I ordered a couple of pizzas, then made a call to Andrew and asked him to come over and to bring the cats with him. At about the time that Andrew showed up, Murray returned from Seattle and pulled in the drive. The sight of the cats brought a little smile to Randa’s wan complexion, and the kids ran off to play with them and to fix up the litter boxes. Andrew started to pull me in for a kiss, but I stopped him with a quick peck. There was just too much going on, and I needed some breathing space.

  I gestured to the living room. “Help me take the food and drinks in there, okay?” We all gathered around the coffee table and, munching pizza, Murray and I gave a highly edited version of our fight with Mr. B & U, leaving out the superscary parts so the kids wouldn’t have nightmares. I’d fill in Andrew about the rest later on.

  “So he’s really gone?” Miranda’s eyes were still swollen from crying, but she gave me a tentative smile.

  “Yes, and I don’t think he’ll be coming back. We booted him out of here. Susan may still be around, but she won’t hurt you, honey.”

  Randa considered this for a moment. “White Deer explained to me how some spirits are okay and some are here to help us, and some are evil.” I’d spent thirteen years trying to teach her the same thing. Par for the course, though. Kids would listen to a fence post before they listened to their parents.

  Kip wiped pizza sauce off his face. “I wish I coulda been here.”

  “No, you don’t. This was no game, Kip. Whatever you did with that witch’s bottle was stupid. Harlow got hurt because of it, and Murray and I were in serious danger. We’re going to have a long talk, and if you can’t straighten up and fly right, then you won’t be allowed to help me with charming anything again until you’re eighteen.”

  That sobered him up real fast. After the kids had finished eating, they went upstairs to unpack. Murray and I had thoroughly cleansed and warded the house when we woke up and, though I had some residual apprehension, I knew they would be okay. Andrew finished off the last piece of pizza. Murray cleared away the plates and boxes.

  “So, what happened at Diana’s funeral?” I tried to shake off my worry about Randa. I had screwed up big time and would have to figure out a way to make it up to her. If only I had the extra cash sitting around, but the tuition for Space Camp was pricey and didn’t include the airfare. Maybe I could ask Roy… but in my heart I knew he wouldn’t help. He’d think it was frivolous, and in a way he was right—Randa didn’t need to go. But she wanted it so much that I couldn’t stand to see her disappointed.

  “It was an odd affair. Walter wasn’t there, of course, and neither was his mother.” Murray pulled out a notebook and flipped through the pages. She took notes on everything.

  “That’s because she was standing in my shop, bitching at me about Walter. Were there any family members there?”

  “Yeah. Joshua. I find it odd that her stepuncle, who hated his family, would be so interested in her. Doesn’t set right. Anyway, he was there.” Murray shrugged. “He left right after the funeral, so I didn’t get a chance to speak to him. There wasn’t a formal reception. Actually, it was all very sad. The minister obviously didn’t know Diana; he gave the most pitiful eulogy I’ve ever heard. The only guests attending were a couple of people from her job; I tried to talk to them afterward, but nobody seemed to know much about her private life. From what I can make out, Diana was moody and unpredictable, a real loner.”

  Unstable. Several people had mentioned that now. “She obviously had emotional problems. Maybe the fact that her parents shunted her from one boarding school to another made her feel unloved. She sure didn’t get along with them, at least until near the end, when she supposedly reconciled with Susan.”

  Or maybe, I speculated, Walter had molested her, and the abuse had skewed her ability to cope with the world. Her demeanor would certainly fit a young woman who’d been assaulted by her father. “I think we need to talk to Joshua. He was the last person we know of who spoke to Diana recently. He seemed to care about her. Maybe he can shed some light on what was going on.”

  Murray sniffed. “If you can ferret out where he’s staying, go for it. I’m sure the department has already questioned him, but you never know what people are going to hold back. That’s one thing I’ve learned being a cop: People underestimate the importance of small things—trivial incidents that can make or break a case.”

  Andrew headed out, he still had a snarl of paperwork to deal with, and Murray left after three assurances that we would be okay. When it came time for bed, I was nervous and so were the kids, but our bedrooms felt clear—Murray and I had done a good job on cleaning out the energy—and for the first time in days, everybody made it through the night without any problems or nightmares.

  * * * *

  Wednesday morning, I headed to the shop, where I called Lana and asked her to come in for a few hours during the afternoon; then I put in a call to Harlow. She was mending along nicely, but it would be a long time before she was back to normal. Eunice Addison had paid her a visit, too. Harl had skewered her like a suckling pig and browbeat her out the door, all the while keeping a smile on her face. I envied her ability to destroy people with sugar rather than vinegar.

  I told her about the funeral and my speculations. “The one thing that doesn’t fit is why Joshua took such an interest in Diana.”

  “Well, if Walter actually molested her, there’s your answer. Joshua probably encouraged her to go to the cops because he saw it as a way to bring Walt to his knees. Don’t underestimate the hatred between those two—Walter and Joshua were rivals from the beginning.”

  “How do you find out so much about everyone?”

  She snorted. “That’s what comes from cavorting with the social elite—I’m privy to all sorts of good gossip.”

  “Then tell me this—I want to talk to Joshua. Maybe I can get the scoop on what’s going on. Where do you think he’d be staying up here? I can’t just call all the motels and beds-and-breakfasts in town.”

  She thought for a moment. “Bernard died more than a year ago, and Walter’s mother moved to a condominium. I know because her next-door neighbor is on the board of the Chiqetaw Players. That big old house that she and Bernard lived in has been standing empty for a year. It hasn’t even been put up for sale. Why she’s keeping it, I don’t know. Maybe Joshua’s staying there.”

  I could hear her shuffling papers. “Here—the address is 351 Plum Street—it’s still listed under Bernard’s name in the phone book.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If I had anything better to do than snoop, I would. But sitting here all day watching reruns of Three’s Company isn’t my idea of fun.”

  I tapped my pencil on my desk. “Well, you do have a way of ferreting out information.”

  Harlow sighed. “Actually, yeah.” She paused for a moment, as if she were trying to find the right words to tell me something. “Em, I’m closing the gym.”

  “What? That gym has been your dream for years! Isn�
��t there anything you can do? Hire a manager, maybe?”

  “No,” she said quietly. “Truth is, we’ve been going under for a while. Not enough jocks in this burg to pay its way and give me a salary, too. James told me that if I want to close up, I’d better do so before I lose everything I put into it. And with the baby, I want a job where I can work from home.”

  I doodled circles on the notepad, wanting to help but knowing there was nothing I could do. “Chiqetaw can exist without a gym. We have the YMCA. So, any ideas what kind of job you might be looking for?”

  “I applied for one a couple of weeks ago. I think I might get it.”

  “Doing what?” It was hard to imagine Harlow doing something that wasn’t out in the public eye. “When would you start?”

  “Next month, as a research assistant. I’d be working from home, typing up notes and research on some Central American tribe a professor from WWU has been studying. The project should last six months. By the time it starts, my wrist should be out of the sling, and I’ll be able to type again. I would have said something earlier, but it’s just now coming together.”

  “Good luck, hon. I hope you get it!” I heard Cinnamon rattling around, and I glanced at the clock. “Okay, I gotta book. See you later, and give James a hug for me.” As I hung up, I knew there were two things I had to do: I needed to pay a visit to the county jail to talk to Walter, if he would see me; and I needed to drive by the old Addison place. If Joshua was still in town, chances were he’d be there.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After the lunch rush, I told Cinnamon that I’d be back in an hour or so, and she waved me out. I’d never been to the Chiqetaw town jail before. Nestled beneath the city courthouse, the building was old and rose at least four stories above ground level, in red brick with a firehouse look. The jail was tucked away in the basement. There were rumors that the ghosts of men who had been sentenced to death, or who had died while in custody, haunted the courthouse. It was also common legend that Fiona Lynch, an Irishwoman who became the town’s first woman law clerk, still roamed the halls, long after a massive heart attack sent her to her grave. I hoped that I wouldn’t end up meeting them, considering my propensity for attracting denizens of the netherworld.

  I found the elevator and punched the button for the jail. When I approached the counter, the officer behind the desk shuffled a batch of papers and then turned his attention to me.

  “Officer Dowling here. What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  “I’d like to talk to Walter Mitchell.”

  He consulted his chart and gave me a dubious look. “You his lawyer?”

  “No, and I’m not family, either. I just… tell him Emerald O’Brien is here to see him.” Most likely he’d turn me away, but I’d give it a shot. I wasn’t sure what I was after, maybe just a crazy hope that he’d break down and confess to me.

  Dowling was back within five minutes. His look had turned from puzzlement to caution. “He’s willing to see you. I need you to leave your purse and coat with me, and empty your pockets.” I passed through the metal detector and submitted to a pat-down to make sure I wasn’t carrying any concealed weapons. My purse was confiscated at the door, and the cop led me to an empty table in an emptier room. He nodded to another officer, who assumed a post next to the wall, where he could keep watch on us.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” Dowling said as he left.

  The door on the other side of the room opened and there, in prison blues, stood Walter Mitchell. The glare on his face might once have been enough to melt me into slag, but after what I’d been through the past few days, it barely fazed me. He sauntered over and, with one move, turned the chair and straddled it.

  “So, if it isn’t the nosy tea-and-china lady.” He rested his elbows on the back of the chair. “Circumstances have changed since we met at my late wife’s memorial. Thank you for your little part in orchestrating this event. I value your help more than you can imagine.”

  I winced. He was supposed to be the bad guy here, but I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “Walter, I didn’t accuse you of anything; it was your stepbrother, and you know that. I’m sorry about your trouble, but I didn’t tell the cops you hurt anybody. I came here because I wanted to talk to you about Joshua.”

  He kept his cool, but his eyes flickered, and I realized that he hadn’t been expecting that name to crop up. Point one, my favor.

  “You do get around. I suppose you read tea leaves as well as fortunes? So read for me. Tell me what good old Josh has been up to lately. Throwing temper tantrums and beating up girlfriends again? Losing control and ending up in the loony bin again?” He cocked his head and tipped his chair so it rested against the edge of the table. “He made a big mistake by coming back to town. We made it clear years ago that he was persona non grata in our family.”

  Irritated by his machismo, but keeping track of everything he said, I shook my head. “Come on, Walter. You won, you know. You inherited his share of your stepfather’s money.”

  His reaction surprised me. He dropped the tough-guy routine and leaned toward me, expression grim. “What did you say? You think I beat out my stepbrother in some sort of sick family contest? You’re as crazy as Josh, then. Let me tell you something: Joshua Addison is certifiably dangerous. He’s out to get me any way he can. Susan and I should have moved out of state years ago, but no, we thought everything was under control. Now it’s too late. Too late for Susan, and probably too late for me.” A faint glimmer of remorse flooded his eyes. “I didn’t think he’d try anything, not after all this time.”

  “You’re saying that you’re being framed?”

  Walter let out a sharp breath and rubbed the bridge between his eyebrows. When he looked up, his face was set in an impenetrable expression. “I have no idea how that knife got into my house, nor do I know how a cufflink matching the one found in Diana’s apartment got into my bathroom. They found a letter, you know. In it, she accused me of molesting her, but it’s not true. I didn’t kill Diana, and I didn’t do anything to Susan.”

  Mesmerized by the sincerity I heard below the bluster, I stared at him. “Walter, if I ask you something, will you tell me the truth?”

  He snorted. “That all depends on what you ask.”

  “Did you beat Susan? Did you hit her? I know you cheated on her.”

  He snorted. “Beat her? Hit her? So that’s what she was telling people. No wonder Diana was prone to lying. Like mother, like daughter.” He probed me with his gaze, and I felt a chill rush over me, as if I were naked. “Well, now, we all have our secrets, don’t we? Frankly, sweetheart, I don’t give a damn whether you or anybody else thinks I beat her up. None of that matters anymore, and maybe it never did. Some mistakes haunt you from the beginning; by the end, you just want out, you just want to get away from the past.”

  Cryptic, but what should I have expected? I started to get up, but he pointed to my chair. “Sit. Do yourself a favor and pay attention to me. If you never listen to me again, listen to me now. Be very careful around Joshua; he bites. I’m a cold bastard and proud of it, it’s made me a successful businessman, but I’m not nearly as nasty as my dear stepbrother, so watch your step.”

  The evidence was damning, but something in his demeanor told me Walter was telling the truth. I digested what he said, reading between the lines. “Are you saying Joshua might have had something to do with Diana’s death?”

  He framed his words carefully. “I’m saying that Joshua has a history of violence. He’s battled with insanity all his hie and never should have been let loose. From day one, Josh was up to no good. Never turn your back on a wounded animal. They’ll rip out your throat.”

  As I contemplated his unwavering stare, I realized that I believed Walter. He hadn’t killed Diana. Feeling a perverse need to reassure him, I blurted out, “I don’t think you murdered her. I believe you.”

  He held my gaze for a moment. I didn’t look away. Then, slowly, he eased the chair back down on all
four legs and pulled back. “If you’ll excuse me now, I need to speak to my lawyer. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before my arraignment tomorrow.” He stood up, indicating the interview was over. As the waiting cop led him to the door, Walter paused and turned back to face me. “Watch your step, Emerald O’Brien. Insanity and strength are a dangerous combination. I would hate to see such a pretty lady as yourself get mixed up in a world built on the love of pain.”

  I gratefully accepted my purse and hurried out of the building. On my way back to the shop, I thought over the strange interview. He never should have been let loose. Let loose from what? Jail? The military?

  Walter had inherited the money that would have gone to Joshua. Joshua hated Walter. Just how far would either of them go to get revenge? With these and other questions whirling in my mind, I drove back to the store.

  * * * *

  “Damn, it’s cold out there. The sky is so clear that the stars almost blinded me.” Andrew shook off the snow as I let him in. Murray had volunteered to take the kids out to get the Christmas tree. I wanted to go along, but I was so tired that all I could do was lean back in the recliner and rest. With the promise that tomorrow night we’d decorate the house, they were more than willing to let Murray lead the expedition. Randa still wasn’t speaking to me, and I still hadn’t figured out what to do about it.

  I tried to find the words to ease into the subject, but it wasn’t easy. Finally I opted for my usual: blunt honesty. “I talked to Walter today.”

  Andrew looked at me as if I’d just grown another head. “Excuse me? You went to the jail, alone?” He rubbed his forehead and let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe you. Do you like putting yourself in danger?”

  I glared. “I wasn’t in danger. There were cops everywhere. Don’t exaggerate.”

  “And I suppose he told you he didn’t do it?”

  Just what I needed to help me think clearer, sarcasm on the half shell. I gave him a stony look. “Of course he did. The damn thing is, I believe him.” I flipped on the television. It’s a Wonderful Life was on, and I settled back in the chair and sipped at my tea, waiting for the blowup.