K J Emrick & Kathryn De Winter - [Moonlight Bay Psychic Mystery 01-06] - A Friend in; on the Rocks; Feature Presentation; Manor of; by Chocolate Cake; A-Maze-Ing Death (retail) (epub)

by Неизвестный

  She looked at Dixon. For the moment, he was speechless.

  Good.

  “Miranda,” Kyle’s voice came to them from far, far away, “what’s going on? What am I doing here? Why do I… why do I feel so strange?”

  “Um,” she hesitated. This was always the hard part, explaining to people they were dead. “Kyle, do you remember anything of what happened to you?”

  “Stop playing with me. We have a party to go to tonight, remember? Oh, I feel so weird. Too light. Like I could just float away…”

  “No, no,” she said quickly, holding him in place with an effort of will. “Don’t do that. Not yet. Stay with us, okay?”

  “All right,” Detective Dixon growled. “Times up.”

  “Shh, please,” Miranda said to him, keeping her eyes on Kyle. “I’m working. This isn’t as easy as it looks.”

  Right now her focus had to be on Kyle.

  “I’m dead?” he said, raising his hands up in front of his face to look at them. “Aren’t I?”

  “Oh, Kyle, I am so sorry.” Miranda said, and tears streamed down her face.

  Kyle shook his head. “This is… I may need a moment for this.” His voice echoed and pitched as he spoke, distorted across the veil between here and the other side. “Why am I dead, Miranda?”

  She told him what they knew, as gently as she could. “Someone killed you, Kyle. I’m sorry. I truly am. Can you help us understand—”

  “Killed me?” Kyle said, the rise of his emotions swirling the air in the room and making the candles dance where they levitated. “You mean, somebody murdered me?”

  “It’s looking that way, yes. I need you to focus now, Kyle. Please? I want to help you but you need to help us, too. Do you remember anything at all?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyle said. “I don’t… understand. Just give me a minute, or maybe an entire week to process this...”

  “Kyle,” she pressed with a sidelong glance at the impatient detective at her elbow, “I really don’t have that kind of time.”

  Dixon coughed into his hand and worked up some of his previous bluster. “Look, Miss Wylder, I’ve had enough of this game of yours. You standing there talking to yourself isn’t going to make me believe in ghosts. This is getting me nowhere in finding out who killed Kyle Hunter.”

  As the detective spoke, Kyle snapped his head around to look at him.

  Dixon stumbled back a step, looking around the room wide-eyed. He’d felt something. He just wasn’t sure what.

  “I remember,” Kyle said, and Miranda tore her attention from Dixon and back to her friend. “It’s all so fuzzy but I think I was shot in the back. I don’t know why.”

  His hands moved in distorted slow motion, imitating what had been done to him.

  “Write it down, Kyle,” Miranda directed him, casting her eyes toward the paper and pencil, letting her energy flow into the connection between Kyle and those objects.

  Once again, Kyle lifted the pencil. He wrote, “Shot in the back. Don’t know why.”

  “This is impossible,” Dixon said, very clearly distressed as he stepped up to the table, flapping his arms in the air above the notepad, looking for the invisible strings. “This has to be a trick!”

  Even as he said so, the pencil lifted, and Kyle began to write again.

  “Check my emails. Death threats.”

  “From who, Kyle?” Miranda said, quietly. She knew the answer. Kyle had told her so yesterday. She needed Dixon to see it for himself, however.

  Kyle picked up the pencil again, and shook his head in a comically mocking way as he looked at Dixon. “Can’t see a damn thing, can he?”

  Even in death, Kyle was funny, and Miranda had to stifle a laugh. He wrote, “Someone from The Coffee Ambience. I think they were fired.”

  “Okay, Kyle, what’s your password?” Miranda said, her crime writer head fully screwed on.

  “I can’t remember. Wow, that’s really weird. It’s kind of fuzzy,” Kyle said, screwing his face up as he spoke.

  Oh no, Miranda said to herself. Not now, not now!

  “Well?” Dixon pressed.

  “Um,” she had to admit, “he can’t remember. He says it’s fuzzy. Listen, sometimes when people cross over they forget things—”

  “How convenient,” Dixon drawled. “You almost had me, Miss Wylder. I gotta admit, you almost had me. Fine. Show’s over, I’m going.”

  “No, listen,” Miranda said, a little waspishly. “Kyle wrote a bad review for The Coffee Ambience not that long ago, and I believe the waitress, Debra Thomas, was fired on account of it.”

  “I’m not sure a bad review is motive for murder, but it wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’ve heard today, would it?” he said, staring right at Miranda. As he did, he swept his hand out and knocked the candles out of the air.

  Miranda flinched when he did. With her connection to the other side flowing through those objects, she felt like he’d struck her.

  “I don’t care for how you showed me this information,” Dixon went on. “You could’ve just told me without this sideshow nonsense. I’m a good police officer, Miss Wylder, no matter what you want to think, and I run down all the leads in a case before coming to a decision. I’ll check this out. Just don’t be surprised if it’s you I end up slapping handcuffs on in the end.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.” She drew in a slow breath. The séance was starting to wear her down. “Erm, I would be very grateful if you didn’t mention any of this to anybody. The sideshow, as you put it. I don’t talk about being psychic. I’m a writer, and that’s all I want to be known as. I don’t want to be the neighborhood weirdo, if you know I mean.”

  He actually laughed in her face. “Like I’m going to tell anyone I stood here while you made a pencil dance and talked to the air. Don’t worry about your little weirdo secret, Miss Wylder. I’m not telling anyone.”

  “Gee,” Kyle remarked as he began to fade away, “he’s a barrel of laughs, isn’t he?”

  “I’ll see you again,” Miranda promised Kyle, talking to the space where he had stood only a moment ago. “I promise.”

  Dixon cleared his throat. “Look, we’ve wasted enough time already. I don’t know what happened here and I don’t want to know. But, if what you or… whatever… said is true, then we need to go back to that café.”

  “So you believe me then?”

  “I didn’t say that. But like I said, I follow every lead. Now are you coming or not?”

  It was late afternoon by the time Miranda and Dixon arrived back at The Coffee Ambience. Dixon had insisted that she follow him back in her own car. Despite his denial, the events in the hotel seemed to have shaken him up a little. Miranda guessed he wanted to spend the drive alone to think.

  Miranda didn’t actually mind coming back. It gave her the opportunity to keep an eye on how the investigation was unfolding. She wanted to make sure that Dixon was doing everything possible to find the real murderer and not just marking time until he could ‘slap the handcuffs on her’ as he’d said.

  The place was packed, and it was clear that news about the murder had spread far and wide. There were little groups of people drinking coffee and gossiping about the whole thing, and Miranda let her eyes stray to the table where she had been signing books just hours before.

  There weren’t any books left. Murder was apparently good for business when you were a crime novelist. What a sad statement, she thought to herself.

  As Miranda and Joe Dixon walked into the shop, the crowd seemed to go quiet almost as one, and turned to look at her as if they were all looking through the same eyes. Miranda had never felt so scrutinized in all her life, and wondered just how many of them thought she had killed her friend.

  “So much for you not being the neighborhood freak,” Dixon muttered under his breath.

  Miranda felt her cheeks turn red.

  “Look,” he said to her, a little more gently, “I’m going to question a few people in here. Stick around okay? Don’t go adding
a disappearing act to your show.”

  She waited for him to turn his back, and then stuck out her tongue at him. Dixon obviously thought himself to be funny. She had to disagree.

  Knowing that she would do herself no good by simply standing there while everyone stared at her, Miranda decided to do a little investigating of her own. Several people had known her house would be empty this morning and someone had taken advantage of that fact. She thought about who that person might be and made a mental list. Everyone at the Coffee Ambience had known so surely there could be no harm in her tracking down the manager, Stewart Carter. After all, she could just tell him she needed to talk about the aborted book signing while carefully determining whether he knew anything at all about what had happened.

  Miranda made her way toward the back, as if heading for the restrooms. However, once she reached the restroom door, she just kept moving, further down the private hallway where she knew Stewart Carter’s office was. As she got closer she could see the door was ajar, and could hear voices from within.

  On instinct, Miranda hovered just a few feet away, and listened.

  “And why was Debra Thomas even here? I fired her, Johnny.” Miranda instantly recognized Stewart Carter’s voice.

  “You might have fired her, boss, but you didn’t ban her from coming in. I guess she’s just a customer now.” Although she did not know him too well, Miranda thought that Johnny was surely Johnny Fletcher, the head cook at The Coffee Ambience.

  “I don’t suppose it matters now,” Stewart said, gruffly. “Especially now that my reason for firing her is dead.”

  “That’s kind of cold, boss,” Johnny said, although he laughed like he thought it was funny.

  “Well, I meant it. I’m glad I never have to read one of Kyle Hunter’s reviews or to ever set eyes on him again.”

  “Wow, what a nice guy he is,” Miranda almost jumped out of her skin when she realized that Kyle was back with her.

  “Don’t do that!” she hissed. “You’re a ghost now. I can’t hear you coming!” She sounded more upset than she really was. In truth, she was glad to see him again. She admitted, if only to herself, that she’d been worried that he passed onto the next plane already. She’d wondered if he had been okay with dying and was gone for good. That’s how it worked. If the person had made peace with this life and was ready to move on, they immediately passed into the light. But if they had unfinished business they would hang around on the earthly plane until that business, whatever it is, was settled. Miranda was glad that Kyle was sticking around until his murderer was caught.

  “Oh. Oh, right. Sorry.” He apologized.

  There was another annoying aspect about being a psychic. The ghosts she called upon developed an attachment to her and they would just randomly pop up in her life from time to time, no effort on her part required. No say in the matter, either. But in this case, she didn’t mind so much. Kyle was a great friend and she was grateful to have this little bit of extra time with him to prepare herself for life without him around. She would be sad when it was time for him to move on. But there would be time for that later, right now she had more pressing matters.

  “Just be quiet,” she told Kyle. “We need to hear this.”

  “But,” Johnny was saying, “somebody killed Kyle Hunter, boss. You saying things like that will just draw attention to you. The wrong sort of attention.”

  “I’m not too worried about it,” was Stewart’s response. “One of the officers said the body was found in Miranda Wylder’s backyard. You know, the author we had signing books today. I think it’s pretty obvious that she did it.”

  Miranda ground her teeth together.

  “Wow, her backyard, huh?” Johnny said, seemingly surprised. “Well, I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m always right. Now, just give me a while in here, will you? I’m not to be disturbed.”

  “You’ve got it, boss.”

  Miranda began to retreat backwards down the corridor, but simply wasn’t fast enough. As Johnny came out of Stewart’s office and shut the door behind him, he caught sight of her. She could see in his eyes that he knew she had heard every word of what had passed between him and his boss.

  “What are you doing here?” Johnny demanded.

  “Wow, he seems antsy,” Kyle said, floating beside her. “Want me to tickle him for you?”

  “No!” she snapped, and then realized how it would look to Johnny to think she was talking to no one. “I mean, no, I wasn’t listening Johnny. Just, um, looking for the bathroom.”

  “Uh-huh,” the bulky chef said in a monotone. “I’m not buying it. How’s about we go talk to Stewart about this?”

  “Look, Johnny, I’m actually helping the police with the investigation into Kyle’s death,” Miranda said, and attempted a smile. “It wasn’t me, so I want to find out—”

  “Do the police normally get suspects to help them?” Johnny asked over her, a little roughly.

  “Um. That’s a bit hard to explain, actually. What did you know about Kyle? I mean, there was this whole thing between him and Stewart Carter, right?”

  He cast a look over his shoulder, back at Carter’s office, before shrugging as if to say, why not? Taking her by the elbow he walked them back up the hallway.

  Kyle followed.

  “I only know what I heard,” Johnny told them. “I mean, I didn’t even see Kyle Hunter the night he came to judge the restaurant. I was out in the back, cooking.”

  “How did you feel about the review?” Miranda was fairly sure that the review didn’t have anything to do with Kyle’s murder. Dixon thought that Kyle had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But she didn’t think that she could rule it out completely. There was some kind of connection here that she just couldn’t work out yet.

  “Well, he didn’t complain about the food, did he? It was the hosting and the decor, which has nothing to do with me. I had no problem with the guy,” Johnny said, and shrugged again.

  Kyle’s hazy blue spirit floated in between them. “That’s true, Miranda. I think I told you before that the food was actually pretty good.”

  Miranda fought the urge to swat him away like an insect. It was not easy having a three-way conversation, when one of the people you were speaking to was a ghost, and the other was entirely unaware of it.

  “Look,” Johnny said, obviously stressing over how long this was taking. “I’m not throwing suspicion on anybody, but you know Debra Thomas, right? Waitress here? Well, she got fired on the strength of Kyle Hunter’s review.”

  That was true. “Yeah, I had heard that,” Miranda said, thoughtfully. “Okay, well thanks for your time, Johnny. I appreciate it.” None of the pieces of this puzzle fit together. It just didn’t add up.

  Miranda smiled and turned, making her way back out to the front of the store. Before she had even reached the end of the corridor, there came the sound of someone shouting, and glasses smashing. On instinct, Miranda hurried out, following the noise.

  Chapter 4

  Miranda raced along the corridor and into the store to see Markus Stidham, Kyle’s ex-boyfriend, standing ready for a fight as he held a glass in one hand and a thick sheath of papers in the other. He was nearly as tall as Kyle, but built with muscles on muscles. Tan and dark, he was an imposing man on the best of days.

  For him, this was obviously not the best of days.

  Kyle put his ghostly hands up over his heart. “Oh, Markus. What are you doing…”

  Markus looked stricken and angry all at once, and Miranda could see the wreckage of at least one glass that he’d thrown on the floor already. There was silence from the customers gathered around to watch, obviously wanting every bit of gossip before they ran for their lives.

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t send these!” he was yelling. “I’ve printed off every single one!”

  At first, Miranda wasn’t sure who he was talking to. Joe Dixon was there, trying to calm Markus down with hand gestures and strong words. Johnny flew out fr
om behind Miranda but stopped within ten paces of the angry bull that was threatening to destroy the café.

  Then Miranda saw Debra Thomas. She was shrinking back from Markus and his accusations. Ah, Miranda realized. Markus held the emails that had been sent to Kyle.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Debra was in tears. “Those aren’t my emails!”

  “Oh, give me a break! Each and every one of these is from you! It was you who lost your job here after Kyle’s review! You killed my boyfriend!”

  “I swear I never sent Kyle any emails. Just leave me alone!” Debra shrieked with distress.

  “Okay, break it up.” Joe Dixon stood in front of Markus, just a little too late for Miranda’s liking. She couldn’t help but think Dixon gave the drama a little longer than necessary, to maybe see if he could shake any evidence out of it.

  “Don’t you want to see these?” Markus demanded.

  “I’ll take them,” Dixon said, holding out his hand for the paperwork. “And you can put that glass down or find yourself in handcuffs.”

  “I knew I should have changed my password,” Kyle said into Miranda’s ear.

  “Seriously?” she whispered to him, holding her hand up over her mouth so no one would see her talking to the ghost. “You couldn’t even remember your password an hour ago! We wanted the police to see those emails. This is a good thing.”

  “Well, sure,” the ghost said in a loud voice that only Miranda could hear. “I just mean Markus has been sneaking through my computer again. I knew it!”

  Miranda had to wonder, if Markus had been creeping Kyle’s emails, could he have maybe been stalking Kyle in real life? “Kyle, do you think maybe Markus was following you?”

  Kyle’s eyes went comically wide. “Oh, I never thought of that. Maybe. He’s the type, you know?”

  “You mean, jealous enough to kill you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Miranda looked over to where Dixon was talking to Markus. She studied Kyle’s ex as he sank down into a chair looking defeated. Did Markus have it in him to kill someone he loved. And why would he follow Kyle to her house and kill him there? Once again there were more questions than answers.