“Good night, Leonard.”
He chuckled and stepped down the stairs. “Good night, Blue.”
Chapter 7
I jogged up the stairs to find Grammy’s and my mother’s apparitions standing at the window. Both of them looked as though if they had scorecards they would each be holding up a number.
“He’s going to see you,” I growled and moved to flick the curtains closed.
“He’s a solid ten, honey,” Grammy announced, dispersing and reappearing on the other side of the room.
“Make him work for it,” Mom announced before disappearing out of the room.
“Don’t listen to her, honey. Life is too short not to enjoy every moment. Be glad your daddy ain’t here. He would have rattled chains to run the pretty cop away. No man will ever be good enough for his little girl,” Grammy said, gliding out of the room.
Where was my father, and why hadn’t he dropped in like mom and Gram? I mulled that thought over. It didn’t make sense that he hadn’t appeared. Was he avoiding me on purpose?
The Lady Blue Plantation had about twenty ghosts that liked to visit. People from Grammy’s past and ancestors who’d died long before I was born. They were like an extension of me in a sense. Each had their own reason for showing up and hanging out, and yet, I couldn’t help but feel there was a ton they’d never share with me.
I tossed and turned all night. My mind was working overtime to come up with a way to help Faraday with more than just putting a roof over his head. Someone was dead, Faraday had almost joined them, and a mob boss was sitting in jail awaiting trial. There was only one person who had the answers I needed, and lucky for me, it wasn’t like he was going anywhere anytime soon. A plan started to form, and a smile split my lips.
“I wonder if he likes cookies.”
****
I started out bright and early making calls to the prison to figure out how to do this whole visit-a-convict thing, and thank God I did. They had a crap-ton of rules, and just scanning their list I would have broken twenty, and that was just getting through security. I loaded the cookies anyway, knowing full well and good that they wouldn’t even reach Moreno. I wasn’t bringing him my chocolaty deliciousness; I was taking them to the guards instead. I wouldn’t consider it bribery, maybe more like southern hospitality for their taste buds. A southern girl was taught never to show up without the proper gifts.
I signed in on the log and passed my ID to the person running checks to make sure I didn’t have any warrants or that I belonged in jail. Her gaze landed on my tin, and her brow rose.
“Officer”—I glanced at the name tag—“Deputy Shaw.” I smiled. “I wasn’t bringing my cookies for the inmate; I brought them for you guys. I opened the lid and slightly lifted them so they could see I hadn’t planted a bomb and there were no hidden shanks baked into my recipe. I took one out and bit into it so she could see that I hadn’t poisoned them either.
Capping the container, I slid it through the opening and went to take my seat. Ten minutes later Deputy Shaw called me back up to the window. A smudge of chocolate sat at the corner of her lip. The deputies behind her each had a cookie in their hands. She smiled and slid my license back, along with a locker key. “All personal items must be placed in the locker before you go through the metal detector.”
“Thanks.”
I’d turned to walk off when my inner radar started to tingle ever so slightly. I turned back to Shaw. “Excuse me for asking, but have you recently lost your grandmother?”
She lifted a brow but didn’t answer either way. I didn’t need her to. I was already getting the message loud and clear.
I smiled sweetly and met her gaze. “She wants you to know her will is inside her favorite book and she left you her house. She says you’ll need the big kitchen because she expects you to carry on the family traditions and she expects you personally to take over making the pecan pies at Thanksgiving. She says you’re the better cook out of all the grandkids.”
Officer Shaw’s gaze softened, even if her lips remained unmoving.
“She’s kind of a no-nonsense lady.” I grinned. “Sort of reminds me of you.”
Still no answer of acknowledgment. “Okay then.” I tapped the counter before spinning around and retaking my seat.
Thirty minutes later I was sitting at a round table in the visiting area. Relatives, loved ones, and a few shady characters were all waiting anxiously nearby. When the door buzzed, all the men in prison grays entered. Their faces lit up as the cons dispersed like a drop of oil in a bucket of water.
One man remained, letting his gaze wander around the room, and instantly I knew he was Moreno. I waved at him and slowly rose from my seat as he neared.
“Who are you?” he asked, gazing at me skeptically.
“Cree Blue,” I answered and gestured to the seat across the table. “Please have a seat, Mr. Moreno.”
He sat down, I think more out of curiosity than anything else. “What do you want?”
“I want the names of the people you sent after Detective Faraday.”
His brows dipped, and he tilted his head. “Open your eyes, lady. I’m in prison, and not a single one of my family members are here to see me. How do you expect me to place a hit on anyone from inside here, not that I’m the type of man who would place a hit.”
“Of course you’re not.” I rolled my eyes and, folding my arms, rested them on the table. “Mr. Moreno, Faraday is my godfather, and he’s currently in the hospital. I understand you don’t know me, so let me tell you who I am, and then I’m going to ask you that question again.”
“You don’t scare me, lady,” he growled.
“I’m a psychic and a medium. I help the police solve cold cases, and if you don’t tell me what I want to know, I’ll make it my life mission to work on only cases that you’re a suspect in.”
He smirked.
Wrong answer.
Visions came quick and fast. “I’ll start with tuning in on your accounting and creative books.” I chewed my lips. “You don’t keep the real ones in a typical wall safe. You have your own vault. Thirty-four, seventeen…” I raised a brow. “Should I continue?”
He didn’t answer one way or the other if I was right. I wasn’t really expecting him to jump up and say “Oh my God, you’re for real.” That would have been too easy.
“If you’re the real deal, then you know that I didn’t commit the crime they pinned on me.”
His words caught me off guard, so I peeked beyond the veil. Visions flooded my mind, first of him and a blonde woman in a Jacuzzi getting intimate and then of someone with a shorter frame than he had squeezing the trigger.
“You’re right. You might be responsible for many things, but you didn’t pull that trigger. Why were your fingerprints found on the gun?”
“That’s simple. I’m being framed for killing the librarian. Do I even look like the type of guy that hangs out in a library? I’m telling you I never crossed paths with the missing woman.”
“Don’t you mean dead woman?”
“They haven’t produced a body, only matching DNA from blood that was found at the crime. When they do find the librarian’s body, they’ll have no choice but to arrest the right guy, which isn’t me.”
Goosebumps. Truth. Call it intuition, call it the tingle in my gut, but I knew he was telling me the truth.
“Are we done here?” he asked, rising.
“No.” I was quick to answer. “I’ll make you deal. You call off your thugs and get me a name on Faraday’s shooter, and I’ll find the librarian’s body.”
He sat back down. “Listen, lady, I told you I had nothing to do with whatever you’re accusing me of.”
My eyes narrowed. “You have a long reach, Moreno. Call off your goons and use your influence to help me find out who shot my godfather, and I’ll help you by solving the mystery around the librarian’s death.”
“And if I say no?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest, his beady eyes narrowed
to daggers.
“Then expect a slew of charges and evidence from other crimes to magically appear.”
“How do I know you won’t do it anyway?”
“You don’t, but I promise that I won’t go actively searching for the crimes you’ve already committed. Now, if a cold case were to cross my desk, and you happen to be implicated in a crime, then that’s another story. But trust me when I tell you, you don’t want me to put the full force of my focus on you. I’m a true southern lady, and we never give up.”
I rose from my seat and rested my hands on the table. “And if you even think about sending someone to shut me up, you better be certain you know all my secrets because the location of your real books will be sent to the FBI before they bury my body. I can promise you that.”
“You’ve got moxy, lady. No one under my command would even think of threatening me.”
“There’s not much I wouldn’t do for the people I love.”
“You’ve got a deal,” he said, rising to stand. “I’ll see what I can do on your case, and you investigate mine. I’ll call you if I find out anything.”
“You don’t have my number.”
His lips twisted into a grin. “You’re Grammy Blue’s granddaughter and Phillip Blue’s kid. You live at the Lady Blue Plantation, and I’ve tasted your cookies. I know how to reach you, and I’m not even psychic.”
Chapter 8
I was escorted back out to the waiting area where the lockers were pressed against the wall. Deputy Shaw was leaning against the lockers, her arms folded over her chest.
“My mother found the will right where you said it would be.”
“That’s great.” Not that I doubted they wouldn’t.
“You helped me, so let me give you a little piece of advice.”
“Oh?” I asked, sliding my key into the locker and twisting to retrieve my car keys and wallet.
“I don’t know why you’re here to visit Moreno, but he isn’t the kind of man you want to get mixed up with. He’s dangerous and cunning, and he’ll use you to get what he wants.”
I rested my hand on her arm. “I appreciate your concern and thanks for the heads-up, but I’m the one using him for the information I need.”
I walked out of the building to find Detective Mason Spencer leaning against my car.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as I approached.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“I came to see Moreno.”
His jaw ticked, and he ran his hand over his head. I hit the fob and opened my car door, letting him process what I’d said.
To his credit, it looked like he was barely containing his anger when he said one simple word. “Why?”
I let out a long sigh. “The guy in my vision said his name and then you—”
“Don’t blame this on me,” he growled.
“Well, you did guess that it was him. You should take that as a compliment that I believed you.”
“You’re going to end up as dead as the librarian he’s accused of killing.”
“He’s innocent of that crime.” I cringed even saying the words, but they were true. “Besides, why would he kill me if I’m the only person who can help him prove he’s innocent?”
I went to shut the door, but Mason held it open. “You aren’t a cop or a private investigator.”
“Thanks for the reminder, again,” I said as another plan filled my mind. “But I have a knack of seeing things that others don’t.” I grinned and left him speechless in the parking lot.
I had things to do, things that would have the cops super pissed at me when they found out I was trying to help a known crime boss beat the charges that were filed against him. It was possible that when I was done they’d never let me help on another cold case again.
I arrived at the Lady Blue Plantation to find Jitters and Charlotte sitting on the porch drinking iced tea. They looked as though they didn’t have a care in the world. I jogged up the steps to the veranda and joined them sitting in my Grammy’s favorite rocking chair.
“Where are the others?”
“Doc is in surgery, and Winston is still dealing with family stuff. The twins are out of town, but we’re here for you,” Charlotte announced, handing me a sweet tea that she had waiting.
I took a long sip and momentarily closed my eyes to absorb energy from the Lady Blue. This old plantation had a way of calming me.
My eyes slid open to find both Jitters and Charlotte staring at me.
“I need your help,” I said, rising and heading inside. “I need whatever you can find on the disappearance of the town librarian.”
“I’m on it,” Jitters announced, sliding in behind his favorite computer. Within seconds, the screens illuminated as Charlotte took her seat.
“What are we looking for?”
I paced the open area of the ballroom where the hospital bed normally sat when we worked on cold cases. I liked to keep all of that stuff stored away in a special secure space when it wasn’t in use.
“Name for starters, the evidence that was reported, a picture of her, her address, anything and everything we can find. I need to find a connection that I can tap into.”
“Can I ask why?” Charlotte asked as images of online newspaper articles started to appear on screens.
“I made a deal with the devil.” Butterflies took flight in my belly as the hairs on my arms stood up. I’d actually made a freakin’ deal with the devil. Realization settled in my gut, and I let out a shaky breath. “Find what happened to the librarian, and I get the name of Faraday’s shooter.”
An image of Moreno filled a part of the screen; it was the photo of him in handcuffs.
Charlotte slowly rose from her seat and pointed to the screen. “Tell me that you did not talk to that man.”
I cringed. “I did more than talk. I threatened him.”
Charlotte rested her fist on her waist and lowered her head, shaking it in disapproval, kind of like that time I was five and stood on the roof, wearing a cape and ready to fly like the birds.
“Margarete Stead was reported missing a month ago. Sources say there was no sign of forced entry and nothing was missing from the house.”
“Then why do they suspect foul play?” Charlotte asked, turning toward the screen.
“A gun,” I announced.
“Ding, ding, ding. They found a gun on site that was connected to Moreno. They found bullet holes in a pillow and blood splatter on the sheets.” Jitter’s announced.
“And?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest.
“That’s it,” he said, pulling up several more photos of the crime scene and a picture of a pretty brunette at the library.
“How did they determine the blood belonged to the librarian?”
A few more clicks and we were looking at the coroner’s report. “Looks like they tested the DNA against the hair in her brush.”
“We may have a dead librarian, but Moreno didn’t do this, even if he is a bad seed.”
“How do you know?”
I gave Charlotte a look of duh.
“Well, if you saw the incident, then who killed her and where is the body?”
“That’s what I need to figure out,” I answered. “I need something personal of hers.”
A few clicks later and a rental sign popped up on the screen. “How about visiting the crime scene and putting out your energy feelers or whatever it is that you do?”
“You’re a genius,” I announced. My voice may have squealed as I pulled out my cell phone and dialed the number on the rental sign. Within the next ten minutes, I set up a meeting with the realtor about rental properties. She’d sounded surprised, if a little hesitant, when I gave her the property address. I’d been speechless when she told me that the house was no longer available. She’d then proceeded to give me the list of other houses in the same neighborhood that were similar in size and structure. I reluctantly agreed and set up a time and place to meet her.
“Pu
ll up the surrounding rental properties and tell me which one is closest to that house.”
A list of houses filled the screen; one of the properties was right next door, the others around the block. My choice was easy.
The next two hours had me riding around the neighborhood with the realtor looking at rental places I didn’t need, in a subdivision where everything looked cloned and nothing was original. The houses were all the same; one-story modest ranch houses with the bushes and landscape impeccable. Kids played in the yards and a few in the streets. There was nothing remarkable that stood out, no lingering shadows, nothing even with bling that would draw lowlifes into this area. These were blue-collar people, so unless a thief had inside knowledge of treasures the librarian was hiding behind her walls, then there was no reason to believe these people had much to steal.
Taking that into account, and the fact there had been no forced entry, the culprit had to be someone in her inner circle. Someone she would have welcomed into her home and potentially into her bed since that was where the crime occurred. If that were the case, they wouldn’t have arrested Moreno seeing as how he’d been getting busy with a blonde that night.
I knew the place instantly when we pulled up. The vibes coming from the home next door were like a living, breathing energy that oozed from the bricks. I got out of the car and immediately started across the lawn.
“Ms. Blue, the house for rent is over here,” the lady called out.
I stopped and stared at the home. If I could just steal a couple minutes inside…
“Ms. Blue,” she called out again.
“Who lives here?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“No one currently,” the lady announced, walking to my side. She must have realized that I wasn’t moving until she answered. “That property isn’t on the market yet. The librarian lived there.”
“Oh?” I asked. “Did she move?”
“She went missing. The cops suspect foul play but can’t find the body.”
Visions and Spells Page 5
