by Неизвестный
Suddenly, the door flew open and a man in his late twenties strode in.
“I hope you’re not interviewing my client without legal representation,” he said to Dixon in a nasally whine.
Miranda was at a loss to explain what was going on. Was this child her attorney? He smiled at Miranda, and held out a hand. Of course, at forty-two, Miranda thought of everyone under thirty as still practically a child. “Ged Daly,” he introduced himself, only his accent was so thick that Miranda at first thought that he had said ‘G’day.’ It took her a moment to realize that was his name. Ged Daly.
What sort of a name was Ged?
“Interviewing her?” Dixon asked, as if that hadn’t been exactly what he was just doing. “By no means, counselor. I’m just showing your client some photographs of the murder scene at her home.”
Miranda winced. How could this guy be so insensitive? After all, it wasn’t as if she’d killed Kyle herself.
“So, now that your attorney is present, would you care to hazard a guess as to what actually happened here?” Dixon pushed the rest of the photographs across the desk at her.
“Don’t answer that,” Ged Daly said curtly.
“It’s a simple enough question,” Joe Dixon scoffed.
The attorney shook his head. “No it isn’t. You’re trying to trick my client. If she guesses correctly, you think you have a credible suspect and you’ll use it against her. Come now, Detective. We’ve danced this dance before, you and me.”
Miranda raised her eyebrows, the child was more effective than she could ever have imagined.
“So, Miss Wylder, when did you last see Kyle Hunter?” Dixon went on as if the last little bit of conversation hadn’t happened.
“Last night. Kyle came for dinner. We had lamb and about a third of a bottle of wine.”
Dixon made some notes by hand on a pad of paper. “How long have you known Kyle Hunter?”
“Oh, about six years. We met at The Metropolitan Chronicle. He was the food critic, as he still is… or was.” She took a deep breath to steady herself. “I was writing a series of short stories for them. We met regularly to talk about our writing, and we just became really good friends.”
“Just good friends?” he pressed.
Ged leaned in to whisper in her ear. “Do not answer that if you were romantically involved.”
Miranda scoffed. Out loud, she said, “Yes, just friends. I’m not his type.”
Dixon’s pen hesitated, then continued writing. “And you always meet at your home?”
“Mostly,” she confirmed. “Sometimes at his place.”
Scratch, scratch, scratch went the pen. “Okay, I’ve got a couple of things I need to check, so I’ll leave you for a while. Just sit tight, please, Miss Wylder.” And with that, Joe Dixon left the room.
Ged had waited for him to leave the room before saying anything. “Right, while we have a moment alone, is there any detail you can think of that we can use to try to show your innocence?”
His nasally whine was seriously irritating Miranda.
“My innocence?” she repeated, a little startled. “So, I guess you already think you’re representing a guilty woman, huh? It might have been nice if your firm had sent someone with a little more faith in me.”
“It’s just standard procedure, Miss Wylder. I’m just trying to help.”
“Why on Earth are you here, anyway? I only just got here myself!”
He looked surprised at the question. “Everyone is assigned a lawyer when they’re accused of a crime.”
“But I haven’t been—!”
Miranda stopped, because she realized now that wasn’t true. The police had meant to accuse her before they even picked her up.
“Okay,” she said to him at last. “I’m sorry. I’m just pretty stressed out, you know? I mean, I’m answering all these questions when all I really want to do is throw myself face down and bawl my eyes out.” She sniffed. “Kyle was my very good friend, and now he’s gone.”
“I’m sorry. Look, we’ll worry about your alibi later. For now just remember not to answer anything and try to…”
Before he could finish, the door swung open and Joe Dixon came back into the room.
“Okay, you can go,” Dixon said, seemingly disappointed. “For now.”
Miranda couldn’t believe it. “Why?”
“Because you were apparently at that book signing of yours while your friend was being killed. Lots of witnesses.” Dixon still looked unconvinced though.
“There, you see?” Ged beamed. “Now, my client would like to be released so she can go home.”
“Can’t allow that.” Dixon’s smile was sadistic. “Your home’s a crime scene now. We’re going to do a thorough search of your house. On the plus side, you’ll be put up at a hotel for the night at the expense of the Australian taxpayers. Just make sure you don’t leave the city.”
Miranda rubbed hard at her temples, this was all going too fast. Alibi or not it was obvious that this blustering detective had his sights set on her. If she didn’t make some attempt to find Kyle’s killer herself, this fool was going to do his best to pin it on her. She knew that as certainly as she had ever known anything.
Call it a premonition.
So what better way to change Dixon’s mind than to work with him. It was a page taken out of her own books. No matter how much she might not like this man, she was going to have to satisfy him that she wasn’t involved.
“I tell you what. Why don’t you come over there with me now, Detective Dixon? I’ll need to pick up some clothes and things, and I’d feel happier if you witnessed it.” Miranda said, in her most helpful tone. “And then you can keep hold of the key when I’m done.”
He regarded her for a moment before nodding. “All right, but I’ll be watching you.”
Miranda pulled up outside her building, waiting in the early afternoon sunshine for Joe Dixon to arrive behind her. She didn’t dare step out of her car until he was there to witness it. And anyway, she wasn’t too keen to enter the house on her own. Her best friend had been killed in there and she was sure she would never sleep another night under that roof again.
A few minutes later Dixon arrived. “All right, what do you need?” he asked as they walked side by side up to her front door.
“Just a few clothes for tonight.”
“And that’s it?”
“No,” Miranda said, knowing that the time was coming for her to make her move. Her mouth went a little dry. “I also wanted to talk to you. I want to help with the investigation.”
“What?” He laughed the idea away dismissively. “You’re a suspect. You understand that, right? I was pretty sure I made that clear back at the station. How can you help me?”
“I’m… a psychic,” she said, waiting for his reaction. They were just inside the front door now, and having her own walls surrounding her again made her bolder. “I know it sounds freaky, but I can summon Kyle’s ghost. His spirit, if you will.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” His sneer was less than amused. “I don’t have time for this. You want to try to get out of a murder charge with some sort of half-baked insanity plea then you go for it. Just do it without me. Grab your clothes and let’s get out of here.”
“I didn’t kill Kyle… and you know it.” She glared at him. “I can prove that I am psychic… I really can summon Kyle’s ghost. Are you game?”
“No, you can’t and no I’m not.”
Miranda stopped short in the doorway of her living room and Dixon bumped into her from behind. She gasped. “What on Earth!” She planted her hands on her hips and turned around sharply. “When you said you were going to search my place I didn’t realize you already had. Did you really need to make such a mess?”
Dixon narrowed his eyes at her and said, “This is how we found the place. We thought you and Hunter had an altercation that got physical and that’s why you shot him.”
Miranda shook her head. “That’s not what happ
ened. I didn’t shoot Kyle as you well know now! So, can we move on from the accusations?” Folding her arms across her chest and tapping her foot she waited until he nodded. She turned back to look into the wrecked room.
It was a mess. Every drawer had been pulled out and upended. All the books had been tipped out of the bookcase onto the floor, their pages and covers all open and askew like someone had gone through each one looking for something. Her beautiful, plush grey couch had been ripped apart by some sharp implement and the stuffing was spewing out all over the place. The violent energy that was left in the room hit her with a force that pushed her backwards into Dixon. She felt his hands on her arms steadying her.
“The house was like this when you found him?” Her voice sounded breathy to her ears as she tried to find her equilibrium.
“Isn’t that what I just said?” Dixon’s gruff voice held irritation as he raised his eyebrows at her. There was still a faint trace of suspicion in his eyes even though he knew that Miranda had a solid alibi.
“Well, this is not how I left it this morning. So, what happened here?”
“Are you sure?” Dixon was on high alert now.
“Of course, I am.”
He moved past her and stepped into the living room looking all around in silence for a few moments. “Well, this changes things somewhat then, doesn’t it?”
“I would think so.” Miranda watched as he picked his way carefully through the debris on her living room floor. He was looking intently at the floor and all around.
“On closer inspection, it looks to me like the place has been tossed. You have any idea why?” He looked at her sharply.
Miranda couldn’t think of one reason why her home had been invaded like this. She shook her head slowly.
“Looks like your friend may have been a victim of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. What we need to work out is why someone was in your house and what they were looking for. Then we’ll know why your friend was murdered.”
Joe Dixon made his way back toward her with a look of annoyance on his face. He had probably thought this was going to be an easy case but now he might need to do some actual work to catch the killer. He came level with her and put a hand on her elbow. “But right now, we need to get out of here before we disturb the crime scene any more. Sorry you won’t be able to get those things you need after all.”
Just as she was about to turn and leave she saw a faint blue swirl taking shape in the corner across the room. She put her hand up to stop Dixon. “Wait…”
She turned back toward the room and she could see the shape of Kyle materializing inside the blue swirl. When he was fully formed he just floated there looking at her with a small smile hovering about his lips.
“Kyle…” Miranda went to take a step into the room but Dixon held her back. He was looking at her strangely.
“Hold it lady. I just said we need to leave. You can’t go back in there.”
“But Kyle’s there.” She pointed in the direction where Kyle was still just hanging suspended in mid-air.
Dixon looked in the general direction that she was pointing to and screwed up his eyes. “Look lady, you’re nuts. I don’t see anything. We need to leave right now.”
Miranda hadn’t taken her eyes off the apparition of Kyle. Now she watched as he raised his hand in a slow wave and then disappeared. She realized that Dixon still had a hold on her arm and was pulling her toward the front door.
She let Dixon lead her outside. She was happy and sad all at the same time. Happy to have seen Kyle’s ghost and know that he was still around. And sad because this removed any shred of doubt she might have had. If she can see his ghost, he really can’t be alive anymore.
She jumped when Dixon stood in front of her and snapped his fingers.
“Hey lady, snap out of it will you. I need to get you to a hotel so I can get back here for the search. Let’s go.”
He had hold of her arm again and was dragging her toward her car. “Follow me.” He dropped her arm and started walking toward his own when Miranda finally came to her senses.
“Wait a minute.” Dixon turned back to her and crossed muscular arms over his chest. She could see impatience in every muscle of his body. “We need to think about this.”
Dixon shook his head. “We don’t need to do anything about this. I will be investigating and you will be going to a hotel.”
“But I can help you. I can summon Kyle’s ghost…”
“Look lady don’t start with the psychic stuff again. There’s no such things as ghosts.”
“You’re wrong. I’ve been dealing with ghosts for as long as I can remember. They do exist. Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”
“It does for me. Why am I even still arguing about this with you?” He puffed out his chest and pointed his right hand index finger at her in a stabbing motion. “I’m still not convinced that you didn’t have something to do with this.”
“I have an alibi.” Miranda spoke through gritted teeth. Didn’t this oaf realize he was wasting time continuing to suspect her.
“Yeah, but…”
“Enough!” Miranda’s shout surprised Dixon for the briefest of moments before his face turned beet red. She felt her blood rising and knew she needed to derail this train of conversation now before they wasted any more time.
“Okay, forget about all of that for a minute.” She waited for him to nod before saying, “So, the photos,” Miranda began, determinedly. “Firstly, except for the dress shoes he wore when he was working Kyle always wore sandals, rain or shine, so the boot prints you may or may not have seen on the photos aren’t his. They are also not mine. Too big for one thing, and for another, you can search my house and find nothing but sneakers, sandals and heels.”
Dixon shook his head. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t have a pair that you got rid of. Can we leave now?”
Not until he believed her. “And why would I dump a body in my own back yard?”
“Lady, I’ve already said you had an alibi. Unless we can bust that somehow we’re going to keep doing our investigation. Nothing you’ve said so far has anything to do with you being a psychic. So, nice try, but I’m giving you one minute to get into your car and follow me to the hotel.”
“All right. On one condition.”
Dixon sighed. “What?”
“That you give some time at the hotel to prove to you that I can summon Kyle’s ghost. Otherwise I’m not going anywhere.”
Dixon looked like he was going to argue and then shook his head. Another long sigh and then he said, “Okay. You seem determined to convince me so you’ve got five minutes.” He turned and walked over to his car.
Five minutes. Miranda wondered if she would be able to convince him of what she was, and what she could do, in just that little bit of time.
She was going to have to try.
Chapter 3
“What’s that?” Dixon said, eyeing the large piece of clear quartz crystal that Miranda had put in the middle of the small table in the hotel room. As rooms go this one was not bad. It was clean and cozy with a huge king size bed. She’d expected to be lodged in one of the small, cheaper places but she’d lucked out here.
“It’s a crystal. Quartz to be precise,” she said, as she placed two white tea light candles that she’d borrowed from the hotel reception on the table and lit them. “This stuff pretty much helps me focus.”
“You carry that thing around with you everywhere you go? Your bag must get heavy.”
Miranda sighed. “No, I don’t. I only had it with me today because of the book signing. I thought it would bring me good luck.”
“Uh-huh. That worked out well for ya, didn’t it?” He smirked at her and she glared back at him. He glanced at his watch. “Three minutes.”
“I can do this without crystals and candles,” she explained, wanting him to understand, “but it helps me clear my mind so I can bridge the gap between the living world and the spirit one.”
“Two minutes.” That was a very quick minute, he wasn’t exactly being fair. But she supposed he did have an investigation to get back to so best to get on with it.
“Okay, okay, just let me focus,” Miranda said, quietly. “Kyle? Kyle, come to me if you can. I am calling for Kyle Hunter. Kyle, please give me a sign that you are here.”
“Oh, that’s enough,” Dixon said, shaking his head. “I’m putting an end to this sideshow bit. I need to get back…”
Before he could finish, the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees. The candles sputtered as if they, too, were cold.
Then the candles began to shake, and rose up to hover in the air.
On the other side of the table, the hazy blue outline of Kyle’s spirit appeared.
Of course to Dixon, it just looked like empty space. He didn’t have Miranda’s gifts. She sighed, wishing this could be easier somehow.
“Look,” Dixon said, his voice trembling a little as he stared at the floating candles. “How do I know that you’re not making that up? You want to stand there and talk to the empty air, you go for it. All you’re doing is fitting yourself for a backwards jacket in the crazy house!”
She’d heard that one before. She was going to have to work fast if she was going to get something to convince Dixon she really was communicating with Kyle’s spirit, even though Dixon couldn’t see it.
“Kyle, I’m going to need you to write your name for me,” Miranda said, as she scratched around in her bag for a notepad and pencil. “Just pick it up and write your name.”
Miranda concentrated hard, lending every ounce of energy in her body to help Kyle make it happen. Ghosts had a very limited interaction with this world. In order to do anything physical in this plane of existence, they needed a conduit. That’s where Miranda came in.
Finally, as Dixon stared open-mouthed, the pencil rose from its resting place on the notepad, and tilted as if held by an invisible hand. The room was silent except for the scratching sounds of the pencil on the paper as the name Kyle Hunter appeared in beautiful, swirling handwriting.
