Deadly Reunion

by Mary Bowers

  “Pretty sure.”

  “And what’s to be gained by this?”

  “Finding out why Fred Rambo and Edith Foote were both murdered. I think they knew something, and I need to know what, and about whom. Actually, I kind of suspect already what they were getting themselves into, but I need confirmation.”

  He let his eyes move off to the distance, the law-and-order side of him going to war with the benefits-of-hacking side of him. Finally, he looked back at me and said, “And you’re sure this is the only way?”

  “I just don’t have the skills to do anything else, and I don’t have enough evidence to get the cops to do it.”

  “All right, but I’m coming with you.”

  “No. The computer has a camera. If he sees you sitting beside me, he won’t cooperate. It has to be me, alone.”

  He thought about it. “It’s not like I could physically protect you anyway. And he can’t physically get at you, not that that’s his style. I don’t like this, but I guess you don’t either. But catching a killer is more important.” He still sounded doubtful.

  “If I’m right, other people are in danger. I think I have to do this, Michael. It’s my call. I’m not dragging you in so I can blame you if it goes sideways. I just needed to think out loud about it first, and you’re my go-to guy. Don’t worry. I’ll be careful.”

  “Come right back here and tell me what happened as soon as you’re done.”

  At that moment, the happy houseguests rolled down the stairs like a bouncy ball and clamored for attention, and rather than go into my office and do something I didn’t want to do anyway, I let myself be sidetracked.

  I’d better give this some more thought, I told myself. I could contact Victor tomorrow if I still felt the same way. In the meantime, I’d call Ed. He’d help me provide a little protection, just in case.

  That decision nearly cost two more lives.

  Chapter 18

  “Well, did you take the best room?” I asked, as Coco came into the kitchen.

  “They’re both the same, and they both have big closets,” she said, not realizing the irony of my question.

  Myrtle buzzed by me and whispered, “Your friends are wonderful. Why haven’t you invited them before?”

  She left me looking flatly into Michael’s eyes, wondering what was going to happen next.

  What happened next was an exhibition of cooking worthy of a comedy show featuring master chefs, with Patty, Coco, Myrtle and Benny all roving around the kitchen without colliding, throwing jokes around and pulling together an astonishingly good lunch.

  “Oh, look!” Benny said, pulling a package out of the refrigerator. “Fresh salmon.”

  “Are these salad greens washed?”

  “Don’t put any bacon bits on my salad,” I said from where I sat doing nothing but smiling.

  “There are no croutons. I’ll toast some.”

  “I’ll open the wine.” That was Coco.

  “Sweet potatoes from the farmer’s market,” Myrtle said proudly. “I got them this morning in Flagler Beach.”

  “They’ll take a while to bake.”

  “I’ll cut them up,” Patty said. “That diet cookbook was good for something, anyway. I remember a recipe for baked sweet potato fries. It’s quick.”

  There are five tall chairs around the kitchen counter, and there were six of us, so when everything came together like magic, Benny ate standing up in the kitchen while the rest of us sat, laughing at his stories.

  I felt pretty good about everything at that point. While not directly thinking about it, I’d made up my mind: first I’d call Ed and get him into the mix, then, while I had him working for me, I’d contact Victor and see what he could dig up, if I still thought it was necessary. All the bases covered, I thought, everything under control.

  * * * * *

  They even got together and cleaned up the kitchen, like it was all a big game. They wouldn’t let Michael or me lift a finger, so we just sat there and watched, and listened to the teasing. Even Myrtle seemed to be having a good time. She looked ten years younger – in other words, her actual age.

  Benny stayed as long as he decently could, and before he left, he made another date with Patty for the next day. Coco up and claimed her for the better part of the day, but Benny managed to lock down dinner, and Patty, in a quiet aside, told Coco to butt out.

  After Benny left, Myrtle went up to her room and the rest of us sat around and talked until it started to get late.

  Patty was the first one to stand up. “Well, I’m going to bed, guys. It’s been a big day. Taylor, Michael, I’m so happy we’re going to be having this extra time together. Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”

  We all agreed it was going to be fun. Coco went upstairs with Patty, and Michael turned to me.

  “Well . . . have you made up your mind?”

  “About Victor? I think I’ll still have to call him, but I’m going to call Ed first.”

  “Darby-Deaver? The ghost hunter? Why? Nobody’s suggested that anything supernatural is going on.”

  “I’m about to suggest it myself. Trust me. I’ve got a plan.”

  “Now you’ve really got me worried.” He said it jokingly, but with a twist of the lips. “What are you up to now?”

  “I’ll let you know when I’m sure I’m not just making a fool of myself.”

  “Hmmm. Mysterious. Well, I’ll be upstairs.”

  I kissed him and told him I would be too, soon. Then I went into the office and made the call.

  Ed picked up on the second ring. Naturally. He’s always available. He’d probably been sleeping face-down on his desk. He has a nice little house in a tiny beachfront community just south of the Anastasia Resort, but the only room he really needs is his office. I don’t think he sleeps in the bedroom much, and I know he only uses the kitchen for storing the peanut butter and jelly.

  Whenever I’ve called him with a project, he’s been wonderful to work with. He listens carefully, takes notes, asks intelligent questions, and does whatever I want him to do, no matter how strange.

  I explained the whole situation to Ed. He agreed to cooperate, and said he’d meet me at Fred Rambo’s condo the next day at ten in the morning.

  “I’ll bring the usual equipment, of course. Will we also need a psychic, or any kind of containment device? The Sensitainer is rather awkward to transport, but it’s unoccupied at the moment.”

  “No, let’s wait on that. There was no holding Fred down in life, and I don’t like to think of him trapped in a box after death, listening to elevator music.”

  “I’ve made adjustments to that,” he said defensively. “It’s playing Mozart now.”

  “That can drive you nuts, too,” I said. “You really can have too many notes. Just my humble opinion.”

  “Then what would you suggest?”

  I gave it some thought. “Can’t you think of a way to show movies? Maybe something educational, like documentaries?”

  There was a space of silence. “Do you think an entity would be able to see it?”

  “Why not? After all, you assume they can see us. And hear music.”

  “Interesting. Yes. Maybe 3-D, to cover the extra dimension, just in case. I’ll work on it. After we complete the current project, of course. See you in the morning.”

  “Get some sleep,” I said before signing off. Ed is kind of intense. He gets too involved in his investigations to bother with trivial things like sleep and food. He needs to be reminded.

  * * * * *

  I was all but positive that Harold Foote would have Fred’s key, but for reasons of my own, I didn’t want to ask him. The other obvious option was Terri, who would have a master key, but when I got to the real estate office she wasn’t in yet. I was faced with the dunderhead.

  Darcy turned out to be a bubbly, pretty twenty-something, the kind that really, really wants to help everybody and usually is incapable of helping anybody.

  “Ooooh, I don’t know,” D
arcy said when I told her what I wanted. “Fred’s lawyer said we had to stay out until the estate gets probated. Nothing is to be removed.”

  “Oh, we’re not going to take anything.” I looked into her foolish brown eyes and said, “Unless Fred is there. In that case, I think it’s our duty to help him get out.”

  She hesitated a beat, staring. “Mr. Rambo is dead.”

  “I know.” I paused for emphasis. “Edson Darby-Deaver is meeting me at Mr. Rambo’s condo in ten minutes.”

  The brown eyes popped wide. “The ghost-hunter? Omigod! Is Mr. Rambo . . . ?”

  I nodded grimly. “We think so. There have been . . . signs.”

  “There have?”

  I held her gaze commandingly, saying nothing.

  I could see she was waffling, but just then her boss came into the office and looked surprised to see me. Darcy was relieved somebody else was in charge now, and she immediately turned and began to type something.

  I explained the situation to Terri with all the gravity I could muster. I could see the doubt in her eyes. She flickered a glance at Darcy, then asked me to come into her office and closed the door.

  “Is this on the level? Fred is haunting the place? If he was haunting anywhere, wouldn’t it be in the condo where he died? In that case, you definitely can’t get in. It’s rented.”

  “Do you remember when we were standing in the driveway with Bernie Horning, worrying about Harold the morning after Edith died?”

  “Oh, yeah. You said you saw something in Fred’s condo.”

  “Yes. I saw . . . something.”

  “Fred?”

  I assumed an air of mystery. “We’ll never know until we investigate. One of the country’s premier paranormal investigators has agreed to help us. Luckily, he was available. As you know, he has a popular reality show, but just now he happens to be in the area, and –“

  “Edson Darby-Deaver. Yeah, I know him.”

  That could be good or bad. People tended to have a hard time taking Ed seriously, unless they were believers with a capital B, and I wasn’t sure about Terri.

  In the end, I convinced her with a plea on Fred’s behalf that if he was earthbound, he should be freed, and as soon as possible. Still watching me with doubtful eyes, she consented, but insisted on being present during the investigation.

  That didn’t surprise me a bit, and it didn’t bother me, either. Everybody always wants to be present during the investigation. I don’t know why. I don’t. But I’m always there anyway. I’d had to fight Coco off, and only managed to get away by myself by promising to bring Ed back to Cadbury House afterwards. If we tried to bring too many people in, I was afraid Terri would balk.

  “And we’d better make it quick,” she added, still looking doubtful. “You’re really sure about this?”

  “You mistook me. I want to be sure about this, and the only way is to get into that condo and have an expert sweep the place.”

  “With what?”

  “Oh, he has his little gadgets. I don’t understand all of them, but he does, and that’s what really matters.”

  “Uh, huh.” She gave me a steady stare, but I already knew I had her. After a moment, just to let me know she wasn’t going to take any nonsense, she conducted me out of the office and told Darcy to hold the fort.

  We were in.

  * * * * *

  Fred’s condo had “bachelor pad” written all over it. It was obvious he had taken some pride in it, but it didn’t have the pulled-together look anybody with a little flair could have given it.

  As Ed lifted his EMP meter and paced the condo in a grid pattern, I peeked into the fridge and saw leftover containers from restaurants, along with bread for making sandwiches and bottles of fruit juice. The freezer was full of healthy, prepackaged meals. I closed the freezer door, eased myself into a mild trance, and drifted over to the sink. The coffee pot had been rinsed out and set upside down in the drainer. In the sink was a soup bowl he’d run some water into and left to soak. A lone sliver of carrot was stuck just below the inside rim. Looking at that little orange blob gave me the first sinking feeling I’d had about the project. I’d been concentrating on my own purposes for the ghost hunt. Now I was looking at the remains of his last supper, and it brought him nearer to me, somehow.

  I left the kitchen and wandered into the dining room with Terri trailing after me. On the dining room table were stacks of papers and handwritten notes on a yellow legal pad. A sticky note at the near end of the table said, “Restring racquet.” Trying to look vague, I swept my gaze across the table, then studied the starving-artist seascapes on the wall.

  “No,” I murmured. “It’s . . . it’s . . . in here.” I walked, entranced, back into the kitchen and paused, letting my senses emanate from my skin, letting them fill the room. I closed my eyes. I reached.

  “What are you doing?” Terri asked.

  It startled me, and I realized I’d been singing to myself. I made myself stop, then I turned to her, blinking. “Just standard procedure,” I said thickly.

  “Ah. I don’t watch those ghost-hunting shows. I don’t know about your procedures.”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  I was surprised when she told me 45 minutes had passed since we’d come into the condo.

  Ed came into the kitchen then, turning off whatever device he was holding and letting it power down with an important downward cadence.

  “Anything?” I asked.

  He mumbled something, then looked up and said, “I’ll need to write up my report immediately. I got some readings, but they’re going to need to be collated. What about you?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Well, this is your last shot, so make it count,” Terri said. “I’m probably crazy for letting you in here at all, and I’m not going to do it again.”

  “Unless we get results, of course,” Ed said. “If so, we’re going to have some work to do.”

  “You really think Fred is haunting this place?” she said. “I don’t feel anything.”

  “One needs to be open to such things. I think it’s probable we have something here. I’ve stored some recordings, and they’ll need to be reviewed slowly and carefully under the right conditions. As Taylor knows, there are times when devices are able to pick up and record images or sounds that aren’t obvious to the layman’s senses, or even the seasoned investigator’s.”

  Terri looked at me and I nodded. She sighed. “This condo will go up for sale once the estate is settled. The last thing we need is a lot of rumors that the place is haunted.” She looked at us pointedly.

  “We’re professionals,” Ed told her. “We don’t spread rumors. But if the murdered man is still here, you’re going to be hearing about it, and not from us.”

  “Uh huh. Well, if that happens, I may have you do your thing in here just to settle things down, but for now –“ She made a sweeping motion toward the door and we preceded her out. Fortunately, there were no neighbors looking that I could see, but there was probably an 85% chance that Candy was watching from her sink window. I gave it a quick look as we walked by, but I didn’t see her.

  “We’ll be in touch,” Ed said to Terri as we reached the main drive. He said it automatically, abstractedly, as if he were already reviewing the walk-through in his mind and had lost interest in her.

  Ed’s car was in the visitor’s parking, and mine was back by the real estate office.

  Ed nodded to Terri, told me he’d meet me at Cadbury House to go over his manual notes before he downloaded his devices, and walked off to his car, looking businesslike.

  I walked with Terri back to the real estate office and she told me again she wasn’t going to let us back into Fred’s condo.

  “Unless . . . you do understand, a life could be at stake,” I said.

  “Well, we’ll see about that. And if you tell anybody I let you in there, you’re going to be haunting someplace yourself.”

  She said it like she meant it.

&nb
sp; I didn’t care. I’d gotten what I wanted.

  Chapter 19

  Ed’s little green Geo Metro can really scoot. He made it back to Cadbury House before I did. When I pulled up, he was waiting for me in his car with the windows rolled down. Cranked down, actually. He doesn’t have power windows.

  I understood why he’d waited. Myrtle was in the house, and she doesn’t like him. Also, by now he knew my friends from Illinois were there, and he’d already gotten a load of Coco back at the diner. I could only hope she was going to behave herself. With Patty getting one date after another while Coco had none, I realized things could get dicey when single men innocently happened by.

  “Well?” he said, getting out of his car.

  “You were wonderful. I owe you one.”

  “Think nothing of it. Now to organize my notes. We need to confer while our impressions are fresh. I suggest your office,” he added.

  “I have houseguests, Ed. I can’t just ignore them all day.”

  “They’re in the cemetery. I saw them walking up there with Carlene about five minutes ago. That should keep them fascinated for quite some time,” he added, glancing wistfully up the hill.

  “Okay, let’s sneak in and you can tell me what you found out. Do you really think you got anything?”

  “You know better than to ask me that at this stage of the proceedings. Always keep an open mind, Taylor.”

  He brought his heavy satchel into the house, said a nervous hello to Myrtle, who stood in the kitchen and stared at him, and preceded me into my office. Bastet was sitting on the desk, waiting, and when we walked in, she lifted bored eyes to us. Ed reacted as if he’d been electrocuted. He froze, stared, looked at me, looked at the cat, then stood silent and quivering on the spot, clutching his bag. I walked straight in and sat down at the desk, muttering, “Don’t scare him,” at the cat.

  She reacted by lowering herself into a relaxed pose and staring out the window at the river. Her ears were doing antenna sweeps, though. When she was settled, Ed came forward and sat beside me.

  “Now,” he said, “let’s take a look at the video I shot.”