Speaks the Blue Jay

by K. J. Emrick

  “Hmm? Yes, I am. I’m fine.” Miranda realized that she had been thinking to herself, eyes focused on the worn threads of the carpet. “It’s just that name. Braydon. Doesn’t it sound at all familiar to you?”

  “Uh, well, I went to school with a Braydon Hanson for a while. I doubt that this is the same one, though.”

  “No, it’s not that. I’m serious, Jack. That name is catching in my craw for some reason and I can’t place—oh!”

  “Oh?” Jack asked her.

  “Oh?” Kyle echoed at almost the same time. “Oh, what? Oh, you have a tummy ache? Oh, I wish I’d spent more time with my best friend Kyle while he was still alive? Oh, how do they get the caramel into the Caramilk bar? What?”

  “No. I mean, I remember! I remember where I saw the name, Braydon.” Then she hesitated, because it seemed so unlikely. Just a crazy coincidence, tied to what was becoming a real mystery in her own life. “Jack, do you remember that article that was mailed to us?”

  “You mean the article about your aunt?” He nodded, his eyes wary. “How could I forget? You think that has something to do with this? There wasn’t any mention of anyone else in the article. I remember it word for word. There was no ‘Braydon’ in it.”

  “No, not in the article itself.” Miranda took a breath, remembering the clipping in its envelope. The mental picture was as clear as a scene from a movie. “It was on the other side.”

  “The other side?” Jack asked her. “I don’t understand.”

  “See, you’re a police officer,” she said to him, meaning every word with the deep love that she felt for him in her heart. “So I know you studied every single word of that article as if it was a part of one of your casefiles. But for me it was personal. It was about my aunt’s disappearance. I looked at it from every angle, including the back. There was an article there, or part of one anyway, about a Braydon Wise.”

  “I have to admit, that’s one crazy coincidence. I mean, there’s lots of Braydon’s out there.”

  “Oh yeah?” she said. “Then name me one other Braydon who you know.”

  “Well, there’s the one I mentioned earlier that I went to school with…”

  “Okay. Any others?”

  That stumped Jack, just like she knew it would.

  “Ooh,” Kyle cooed, “she got you there, didn’t she?”

  “This other article,” Miranda said to both of them, “was about a bank robbery. Braydon Wise was the primary witness. He was quoted in the article and everything.”

  “Which bank was it?” Jack asked her.

  “Um. I don’t know. That part was cut out along the lines of the article about my aunt.”

  “Was someone arrested?”

  “Again, I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I guess I don’t know much about it, other than it obviously happened at about the same time as my aunt Connie disappeared.”

  “Okay, but that was… what? Twenty years ago?”

  “More than that.” She’d been just a teenager when that happened. “That’s not the point, though. The point is that Braydon was in that newspaper, and now Braydon is in that recording. It can’t be a coincidence.”

  “But why do you think that this is the same person? It doesn’t actually say his full name on this tape. It’s been more than two decades. It’s just a coincidence”

  “No, Jack. It can’t be. It’s such an unusual name, and back then it was a bank robbery and now it’s stolen cars that need to be fast, like for a getaway car. It all fits. Does that make sense?”

  He stepped closer and pulled her in gently to his chest. His arms felt good coiled around her like this. “Listen, I can certainly see why you’d make this connection, Miranda. I know why this is so important to you.”

  “I feel a but coming on,” She murmured into his shoulder.

  “I thought you liked my butt?” he teased.

  “Jack, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Have you seen my backside?”

  She laughed softly. She couldn’t help it. That was just the effect he had on her. “Fine. You have an amazing bum. Now. What were you going to say?”

  “From what you’ve told me about that tape,” he said, “it certainly sounds as if Caleb Owen was a guy who stole cars for other people. Fast cars. Getaway vehicles. The Braydon on the tape certainly sounds like he’s trying to buy one from our dead friend Caleb. And yes, getaway vehicles are used in bank robberies. That doesn’t mean it’s connected to your aunt’s disappearance.”

  “Well… maybe,” she conceded. “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying that we need to investigate one mystery at a time. I took you and our friends out on a camping trip this weekend to take your mind off everything that had been dropped into your lap about your aunt Connie. I mean, the article in the envelope, then that tour boat captain showing up on your doorstep and claiming that he knew Connie…”

  “Then his boat burning up for no apparent reason,” Miranda added. “Him missing, and maybe dead. I know, Jack. I was there, too. Yes, it’s a lot to process but that doesn’t mean that I’m reaching for answers that aren’t there. Look. You can have your guys do a computer search for Braydon Wise, right? If the Braydon from the article is the Braydon on the tape that would be the easy way to find out, right?”

  “I guess it’s a possibility,” Jack said, and smiled at her. “Believe me, Miranda, I’m not ruling anything out. I’m just trying to be the voice of reason, playing devil’s advocate, you know?”

  “I know, Jack. I know you’ve got to do your job, even when it comes to me, and it’s okay. Really.” She smiled back at him with equal warmth.

  “I just think that we need to come back to the idea of the Braydon on the tape being the same Braydon in the newspaper clipping at a later time. I think we’ve got enough mysteries going on right here without adding to them. There’s the matter of Caleb’s business partner, too.”

  “I’ll bet it was someone else here at the Bed and Breakfast.”

  “Yes,” Jack agreed. “It could have been any one of them. It would help if we knew more about everybody.”

  “If it helps,” she told him, “I also found out that Detective Ben Clark is Ginger Peck’s uncle. Ginger has been staying here. I think Caleb and she were dating even if she wouldn’t admit it to me.”

  “Okay, now that is interesting.” Jack took a moment as he digested the information. “Funny how Detective Clark didn’t actually mention that to me. You’d think that would’ve come up by now.”

  “That’s not the only thing he forgot to tell you, mate,” Kyle grumbled, floating up off the floor and crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Shh, Kyle,” Miranda hushed him.

  “What’s he saying?” Jack asked.

  She bit her lip and decided she couldn’t keep any part of this from him. “It turns out that Ben Clark can see ghosts. At least, it appears that he can hear and see Kyle.”

  That made Jack’s eyebrows shoot straight up. “You’re kidding. How do you know?”

  Now that he was asking her the question, she felt silly about actually giving him the answer. Ben Clark swatted at the air in front of him, she could say. He said something that he might have heard Kyle say.

  Was that proof, or paranoia?

  “You’re just going to have to trust me,” she decided to say. “It’s one of those psychic things.”

  “Oh, very convincing,” Kyle griped. “That’s the best you could do?”

  Jack wasn’t overly impressed with her answer either, apparently. “How about we get some real proof before we assume the man has a sixth sense like you do, okay? Like I said, we need to concentrate on one mystery at a time.”

  Kyle turned his back in disgust. “You’d think he didn’t trust us.”

  “We’ll come back to that,” she said, more to Kyle than to Jack. She leaned past him to look into the dining room. Clark was still there, still talking to Skye Rogers. She didn’t trust that man. In any way. “I wonder if Detective C
lark knew about Caleb Owen’s operation? Even if he was just visiting his niece, he might have caught on to how Caleb was stealing cars. If he tried to arrest him and something went wrong, that could be how he died.”

  Jack hugged her again. “That’s my girl. It’s a good theory. Only, Clark’s a police officer. They kind of frown on us killing people.”

  “Accidents happen, Jack. And, not every police officer is a saint like you.”

  “I’m no saint. I’m just saying it’s unlikely. Let’s get back in there. We’ve got questions. Let’s get some answers.”

  Chapter 8

  As the two of them walked back into the dining room, Miranda was already putting away the idea that Braydon of the audio recording was also Braydon Wise of the old news article. Jack was right. They needed to concentrate on one mystery at a time. Ben Clark wasn’t their only suspect. There was a whole building full of them.

  Which brought up another question. Were the people they had met so far the only ones staying here at the Blue Jay Bed and Breakfast, or were there others?

  They went over to where Jean-Paul and Sapphire were sitting at the one end of the table, keeping a careful watch on the others in the room. Butter was laying on the floor between them, head on his front paws, completely uninterested in the problems of his human companions.

  “What was that all about?” Sapphire asked them, her hands nervously picking at her sleeves. “I’m telling you, Miranda, don’t hold anything back from me or I may very well scream. I’ve had quite enough excitement and horreur for one day, I’m sure I don’t have to remind you.”

  Miranda looked at her friend a little oddly, until Sapphire finally cracked a smile and waved a hand at Jean-Paul. “He’s been teaching me French. Just a little. He says that my accent needs work but that I’m a very quick study.”

  Jean-Paul patted her hand, with just a hint of color reddening his cheeks. “Your accent is fine, my dear lady, and you are correct. We can not be kept in the dark. Not when there are so many dangerous things afoot, yes?”

  “Yes,” Jack agreed. Lowering his voice, he gave them the gist of what Miranda had heard on the tape recorder. “So we have lots of questions. Oh look, there’s Ginger now, too.”

  As he said it, Miranda saw the woman had indeed left her room and was now joining Alfie and Skye and her uncle Ben Clark at the other end of the table. She still looked upset, and she only shook her head when anyone tried to speak to her.

  “Okay, everybody, I’m sorry for the delay.” Jack addressed the whole room and everybody turned to look at him. “We’re starting to get all of this settled. Your help is essential. All of you.”

  He looked specifically at Ben Clark, the officer from Melbourne, as if reminding him that the Moonlight Bay PD were the locals here, and that meant Jack Travis was in charge.

  Ben held his hands up, palms facing Jack. “No worries. This is your show. Tell me what you need from me and I’ll be sure you get it.”

  Ginger scoffed, coming to life as her eyes flashed at her uncle. “It’s no good you acting sweet and kind now, is it? You’re probably glad that Caleb is dead, aren’t you?”

  Ben’s eyes flicked to Jack and Miranda, for just a second, and then went back to Ginger. “I don’t know why you’d say that. I’ve been here lots of times. You ever see me say so much as a cross word to Caleb?”

  “You did everything you could to run him down!” She folded her arms around herself and sat down heavily in one of the chairs at the table. “No, you never said anything bad to him directly. You always smiled when you insulted him. You knew just what to say to make him seem small and to let him know that he wasn’t worth anything in your eyes.”

  “Now come on, Ginger, that isn’t fair. You know that isn’t true.” He reached out to place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she yanked herself away from him.

  “Just leave me alone,” she said defiantly.

  “Hey, you’re the one who came looking for us in here. You could have stayed in that room of yours and sulked some more if you didn’t want to hear the grownups talk.”

  “There! You see, you see?” She said that to Skye and Alfie, as if she was looking to them for support now. “That right there is what I’m talking about. You have this way of insulting people without saying anything at all. You have this way of making everyone, me included, feel just six inches tall.”

  “Ginger, honey, I don’t know why you’re taking this whole thing out on me.” Ben spoke loudly and clearly, obviously talking to the whole room instead of just his niece. “Whether you want to believe me or not I am sorry that Caleb is dead. I’m not in the habit of celebrating when somebody’s life is taken from them. As a police officer, I’m not like that.”

  Miranda recognized almost the same words that Jack had said about police officers earlier. She wondered if it was part of their initial training, something that they were required to memorize at the academy.

  However Ben Clark came by that opinion, either by studying for a grade or by honest interpretation of his motives, Ginger was obviously unimpressed by it. She didn’t say anything, but turned her back on her uncle instead. She clearly did not want to speak to him about it anymore. It made Miranda wonder what they had been saying to each other when they first got here, and he’d been down in her room.

  After all, Ben had darted off after Ginger to make sure that she was alright and when Miranda first set eyes on him, he was asking everybody to keep things down and stop arguing because Ginger was so upset. Sounded like a caring and concerned uncle to her.

  So why was Ginger so mad at him?

  “I’m sorry.” Ben turned to all present and shrugged as if he were truly apologizing for Ginger. “I don’t know what’s come over my niece, but I’m sorry.”

  “No,” she insisted. “You’re not.”

  “Ginger?” Jack said to her. When she didn’t answer him, he walked up the length of the table to stand right behind her. “What do you mean by that? Why would you think that your uncle was glad Caleb is dead?”

  “She’s just upset,” Ben tried to argue. “Don’t take anything by it. I don’t.”

  He added that part quickly, and Miranda felt like he was trying to use Ginger’s outburst for his own advantage in some way, although she couldn’t begin to guess what that would be.

  “Ginger,” Jack pressed, ignoring Ben and his protests. “I’d like you to answer me. What do you mean?”

  In her chair, Ginger slumped forward, and her voice became thin and brittle. “I was in a relationship with Caleb. That’s what I mean. We were together, really together, but my uncle never liked that. Oh, no. He’s never approved of any man I’ve ever been with, and with Caleb it was that much worse. He’s never had a good word to say about the two of us.”

  All eyes turned to Ben, but he had an answer on the tip of his tongue, like he’d just been waiting to use it.

  “Ginger, honey, I was just worried. I’m your uncle. That’s my job.”

  She turned her back on him again and closed her lips tight.

  Jack spoke instead. “So Ben, what was the problem with the two of them being together, as you saw it?”

  He flipped a hand through the air. “I didn’t like the age gap between them. It was twenty-five years, for crying out loud. That’s too much. No way any relationship can survive that. I just thought Ginger could do better, that’s all. She’s young, she’s beautiful, and she’d have men everywhere hanging off her if she just put herself out there. She didn’t need the likes of Caleb Owen.”

  A little bit of Ginger’s anger from before came back when she heard all of that. “It was my decision to make, Uncle Ben.”

  “Oh, honey. Some people are just too young to make up their own mind.”

  And that set Ginger back into silence again.

  “Twenty-five years difference?” Kyle said in surprise? “Wow, Caleb was old. No wonder he still used a tape recorder. I’ll bet he used a pager, too. And dial up internet.”

  Miranda f
elt something funny from deep inside when Ben Clark talked about his niece. It was nice to have confirmation from both of them that Caleb was actually dating Ginger, and it wasn’t just Ginger using him like Skye Rogers had suggested. It was also interesting to see the different ways that she and her Uncle Ben looked at the situation—a twenty-five year age difference—but the feeling she got from Ben was an honest concern for his niece.

  Either of these two could be the killer. Ben, looking out for his niece. Ginger, dating a man who turned out to be a car thief. Miranda could feel the emotions swirling between them with her sixth sense. She just couldn’t see where those emotions might have led.

  “Look,” Ben said into the silence. “Like I said before, whatever you need, Jack, okay?”

  “Jeez.” Kyle grumped, waiting for Miranda to look over at him. “I’m not sure which one of these two is running a con, but something’s really off between them.”

  It was the same thing that she herself had been thinking, and she only wished that she could go off into a room privately with Kyle to talk about it without looking like a total freak. Maybe she would have to pull the old ‘going to the ladies’ room’ routine again even if…

  Ben Clark looked over at the same empty space where Kyle was standing, and then looked away. Miranda stared at him hard, but he wouldn’t acknowledge her at all.

  He’d looked right at Kyle.

  “All right,” Jack said, obviously just as sort-of-but-not-really satisfied with the answers they had gotten so far as Miranda was. “Here’s what I need from all of you. I need you to write out for me what your movements have been for the last three days. That’s when Caleb went missing, according to Ginger. That’s when we assume he was murdered. Everything you did. Where you went, who you were with, all of it.”

  Skye Rogers rolled her eyes. “Is that absolutely necessary? I could just tell all of that to you. Maybe if you wanted to come up to my room with me we could talk. Privately.”

  Miranda felt her blood reach its boiling point in five seconds flat, but then she backed herself off. She was starting to see that the beautiful woman standing right there, very close to Jack, used her looks as a shield to deflect the world. Still. She wasn’t going to just flirt with her man.