Matt stood next to me, his hand on my elbow. It wasn’t a gesture of comfort so much as insurance against me bolting. “You gonna do this every month?”
“Yes,” I said. “Because if I don’t, I’ll never win the find-the-dead-body scavenger hunt.”
“You’re pretty when you use sarcasm.” His gaze pinned mine. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I did.”
“I mean before you found the corpse.”
I opened my mouth to say something smart-ass, but managed to stop myself. I shook my head. “I’m a fucking mess, Matt. I don’t want to suck you in to my chaos.”
“That’s my choice. Dinner. Tomorrow night?”
“You’re mental.”
He lifted an eyebrow.
“Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight. Don’t give me a bogus address, either. I have access to all kinds of databases, and I’ll find you.”
“You’ll find—” I stared at him suspiciously. “You already know where I live, don’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Detective Stone. The coroner’s here.” A tech in a CSI jumpsuit waved Matt over.
“Stay put. I still have questions for you.”
“Ugh.” I crossed my arms and watched him and his very fine ass walk to the man bending down over the body. Wow. I pried my gaze away from the detective’s buttocks and looked at my new ghost friend.
“What did they find, Carson?” I whispered.
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Dude. It’s your body.”
One of the policemen gave me a curious look. I offered him a Hannibal-Lecter smile and he turned away. That’s right, buddy, fava beans and a nice Chianti.
Carson stood next to me, his arms crossed, just like the neighbors watching the hullabaloo from a safe distance. My gaze was drawn to a man who was probably in his late fifties. He wore a gray jogging suit and tennis shoes. His graying brown hair was cut short, but other than the John-Lennon type glasses perched on his nose, he looked like somebody’s grandpa. He held the leash of a teeny tiny dog. I think. He could be walking a ball of lint. The creature didn’t seem to have a face or feet.
I spoke quietly out the side of my mouth, “Carson, go look. See if they have a clue about why you died. Maybe somebody killed you.”
The ghost seemed nonplussed. “Who’d want to kill me? I’m a nice guy. Besides, it was probably my brain cancer that did it.”
Carson walked away. He was too new at being a spirit to realize physics no longer applied. Brain cancer? That detail might’ve been relevant say, a half an hour ago.
I looked around. Everyone was busy, and I was getting antsy. I needed to find a hobby that didn’t involve dead people. Maybe I could learn how to crochet. My grandmother crocheted. She really liked making doilies.
Bing. I dug my cell out of my jacket pocket.
U find dead guy?
Yes. U know Carson Malloy?
No.
Dead in his front yard.
Called Matt. Have 2 stay here.
My phone binged three times in a row before I could reply once. Did he ask U out? Did U say yes? Tell him you don’t date cops who dupe your sister.
UR mad he outwitted you.
Shut up.
U shut up.
Seriously. Did U say yes?
I sighed and keyed in my response. UR a nosy butt. I said yes.
Good. See U soon.
Carson returned and read my texts over my shoulder.
“Stop that.” I put my cell phone to my ear, and kept my voice low. I needed to have a conversation with Carson without looking like I was talking to my invisible friend.
“Coroner says it looks like an accident,” said Carson. “Fell off the porch and hit my head.”
“You don’t seem too bummed out about dying.”
He shrugged. “What can you do? It is what it is.”
“Very Zen.”
“Not really. I was diagnosed with brain cancer about six months ago. I’d already prepared for permanent lights out. Having it happen in the front yard was a surprise. But not the dying.”
“That’s lousy,” I said. “I’m sorry, Carson.” I frowned. “Is there someone I can call for you?”
“Nope. I’ve never been married. I don’t have kids. No siblings, either. My parents died years ago.”
“What about your house?”
“Oh, it’s a rental.”
“How’d you find it?” I asked. Not that I could afford to rent a house in this neighborhood, but one day, I might grow up and get my own place.
“Facebook. It was posted in one of those annoying sidebar ads. I’ve never lived anywhere luxurious. All the furniture and household items came with it. I was dying anyhow, so I resigned from my crappy job, got out of my apartment, sold most of my stuff, and moved in about a month ago.” He smiled and looked up. “Hey, what’s that?”
I followed his gaze. “Um … clouds?”
“No, the light.”
“You mean, the light? Heavenly? Angelic? Boring?”
“More like a disco ball. And music. Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go.” He started dancing, flinging his coffee cup behind him and kicking off his slippers. “Can’t you hear that? I love this song!” He bent down and wiggled his butt. “Woo!”
I didn’t have religious beliefs. Yeah, I could see dead people, so I guess I believed in souls. Anyway. I’d never witnessed a spirit actually move on to … wherever. Carson was ecstatic as he boogied into the sky. He waved good-bye, still jiggling like a fool and grinning like a lottery winner. I watched him ascend, higher and higher, until he disappeared.
I looked at Ben who’d been floating nearby this entire time. He was such an easygoing guy. I liked him a lot, but he deserved an afterlife, too. “You know, you could go with him.”
“Nah. I don’t really like Wham!” He smiled shyly at me. “I’m gonna stay with you, shiny lady.”
“All right.” I smiled at him. “Would you mind checking on Justin? If my sister and Dumbass start fighting again, maybe you could distract him.”
“He builds Lego towers, and I knock them down.” Ben shot me a wide grin, showing off the gap in his teeth, and then vanished. He wasn’t too keen on saying hello or good-bye.
Now ghost-free, I looked around the scene. Matt was talking to the coroner. Uniformed officers milled around the yard. I saw Monetti walk out of the house holding a sheaf of papers. He joined Matt and the coroner and all three men started looking at the paperwork.
My tummy rumbled. No coffee. No food. No escape. If I tried to leave, Matt might actually arrest me. Handcuffs could be fun, but not when they were being used to restrain me so I could be hauled off to jail.
Patience was not my strong suit. I wandered up the driveway, wishing I had the ability to make coffee appear. That would’ve been a much better super power than talking to spirits.
As I approached the far end the house, I saw a blond-haired boy peeking around the corner. His eyes widened when he saw me, and he turned around and took off.
Well, shit. I imagine having a curious rug rat within ten feet of a dead guy would not thrill the homicide detectives. Since I knew Carson didn’t have kids, I figured the child belonged to a neighbor.
I darted through the side yard and, lucky for me, the gate was unlocked. I pushed it open and entered. I was surprised to find the entire space xeriscaped. I figured there would be a pool or one of those decks with an outdoor kitchen or both. The only thing on the concrete porch was a circular glass table surrounded by four chairs with blue cushions. All the way to fence the enclosure was covered with sand-colored gravel. Blue paver stones created a footpath. That singular line broke off into several smaller avenues, each curling around a large flat rock and a plant with long thin leaves.
The little boy was nowhere to be found.
I moved to the porch and studied the strange layout of the area. Something was familiar about the shape. I
pulled one of the outdoor chairs to the edge of the concrete platform and stood up on it. The change of perspective revealed that the paver stones had been arranged to create a tree with spiral limbs. In the middle of those spirals were the stones and the spiky-leafed plants. The stones were all flat on top, which gave me the impression they were used as seats.
As I stared out over the backyard, I got the shivers. Three branches each veered to either side. Only four with the rock seats and weird shrubs. Why the gaps? I didn’t like the feeling I got staring at this configuration. I saw no beauty. I felt no peace.
“I can’t leave you alone for a second.”
The deep voice startled me, and I lost my balance. I tumbled off the chair, but Matt AKA Mr. Ninja McNinjaPants managed to catch me. Sorta. He staggered and groaned, which wasn’t exactly great for my self-esteem. He smacked against the back of the house, steadied himself, and blew out a relieved breath.
He put me on my feet, and I jumped away from him like he was on fire. “Thanks for not dropping me.”
“You’re welcome.” He straightened. “You know you’re not supposed to traipse around here, right?”
“For your information, I am not a traipser.” I waved my hand around. “I saw a little boy run back here, and I was trying to make sure he wasn’t traipsing.”
“Maybe we can put a moratorium on the word traipse,” said Matt. He looked around. “You already run him off?”
“No. He vamoosed before I caught him.”
Matt’s gaze traveled over the xeriscaped land.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” I asked.
He glanced at me. “This is Vegas. Everything’s weird.” He studied the area a little longer. “But yeah, there’s something off about this design. Matt turned and took my hand. “I doubt creepy yard art had anything to do with this guy’s death. He had a do-not-resuscitate order along with his medical paperwork. Turns out he had brain cancer. Coroner speculated the poor guy probably took his last sip of coffee and collapsed. The wound on his head is superficial.”
“So, that’s good-ish?”
“It’s always good when there’s not a murder. But we have to wait for the autopsy to confirm the cause of death.” He took my hand, and we started walking toward the gate. “Let’s go, Columbo.”
“I look terrible in a trench coat. I’m more like Daphne from Scooby-Doo.”
“All you need now is a short purple dress and a 1970s hairdo.”
“Making fun of me will not get you kissed at the end of our date,” I told him.
“So we’re definitely on for tomorrow night.”
“I said so, didn’t I?”
He grinned. “If I remember correctly, I got a lot more than a kiss at the end of our last date.”
“That wasn’t a date,” I reminded him. Drunken one-night-stands didn’t count. “That was—”
“If you say mistake, I’m gonna arrest you.” He took my elbow and swung me around. His expression turned serious. “We may have started this thing backwards, Violetta, but I’m not just in this for the mind-blowing sex. I want more.”
I gulped, my mouth suddenly dry. “Okay.”
Matt led me to the front of the house. “You’re free to go home. Do you need a ride?”
“Nah. Dee’s house isn’t that far.”
“Okay.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you at eight tomorrow night.”
“Lucky for you I’m off tomorrow. You should know that I’m not a delicate, picky eater. If you take to me a salad place, I’ll stab you with a fork.” I grimaced. “Sorry. That came out bitchy. What I meant to say is that I love steak.”
Matt chuckled. “I know just the place.” This time his lips brushed mine, and I got the va-jay-jay tingles. “Stay out of trouble, okay?”
“I’ll try,” I said.
He shook his head, smiling, and then walked toward Monetti. Carson’s corpse had been placed in a body bag that was being wrangled onto a stretcher. I’d had enough death for one morning. Er, afternoon. I crossed the street to get out of the way of police cars and the ambulance. The guy with the dog was still there. I met his gaze. He smiled, giving me a little wave. I waved back, watching as he turned and sauntered down the street with the ankle-biter prancing next to him. I glanced one last time at the house.
The little blonde-haired boy stared at me from a second-story window. After a few seconds, he disappeared.
Shit. No wonder I wasn’t able to find him.
The kid was a ghost.
As I walked up Dee’s driveway, I heard the front door slam. A pissed-off Darren appeared on the porch and stalked toward his Mercedes. He wore a Polo shirt tucked into khaki pants and leather loafers. His hair was slicked back, a far cry from his usual professional shellacked style.
He saw me and grimaced.
“Is it casual day at mob headquarters?”
“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”
“No,” I said. “I think I’m fucking hilarious, and that’s like eleven levels above funny.”
He unlocked his car and glared at me. “It’s your fault she’s like this. You’ve always brought out the worst in Deirdre.”
“I used to,” I admitted, “but you’ve tagged in, and you’re a lot better at it than I ever was. You’re a douchebag champ, Darren. You should try out for the Dickhead Olympics. You’d win gold.”
He stabbed his finger at me. “See? This is what I’m talking about. She never had a problem with—” He pressed his lips together. “Your bad behavior is rubbing off on her, and I’m sick of it. Sick of you.”
I strolled up to Darren and got right in his face. Aggressive assholes love this maneuver—hah. No they don’t. But I have a helluva right hook and exceptional groin aim. “You’re despicable. You care more about your career and what others think about you than you do about your family’s happiness. I’ve watched you tear my sister down insult by insult, ignore your son, and generally act like an asshole on parade.”
“It’s none of your business.”
I ignored that comment because I was making it my business. Duh. “You don’t get to be married to my sister and have a piece of strange on the side.”
Darren’s face went purple, and a vein pulsed across his forehead. The hatred in his gaze was set on broil.
I stepped away from his car. “Nice talk. Now fuck off.”
“One day that mouth of yours is going to write a check your ass can’t cash.” He slid into the driver’s seat and started the Mercedes.
As he backed out of the drive, he flipped me off.
I stared at him until he reversed out onto the street, slipped the car into drive, and took off.
What a jackass.
Chapter 3
My sister Dee sat in the dining room, a box of tissues on her left and her cell phone on the right. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her nose red and chapped.
I took the seat across from her. She looked at me, devastated, and sniffled. “I have to go to the bathroom,” she said abruptly.
She got up and left.
Seeing her in so much pain made me want to break Darren’s kneecaps. Until recently, Dee and I had had a distant sibling relationship. When we were kids, we were each other’s best friends—united against a single enemy: our mother. That lasted until high school, or rather until I turned sixteen. When our maternal grandmother was on her hospital deathbed, she transferred the ghost gift to me right before she passed. Mom was furious. She’d been waiting her whole life to get the gift, dollar signs dancing in her head no doubt, and the fact Grandma had given it me absolutely killed her.
To say I was an irresponsible ghost whisperer would be a vast understatement. The misuse of my ability always seemed to be followed by a horrible consequence. For example, the same year I got the gift, I used a teenaged ghost who died from a tumble down the school stairs to help me cheat on tests. A month later, our father, who’d been divorced from Mom since we were in elementary school, died in a car accident.
A
fter several of those types of episodes, me using my power selfishly and karma biting me in the ass, I decided it would be better for everyone—living and dead—if I cut the connection between me and the otherworld. I hired a white witch to create an anti-ghost pendant, which worked for nine years. Until my asshole ex-boyfriend got it as part of a $5,000 settlement I owed him. He was murdered, the necklace disappeared, I was too broke to get another made, and ta-da! I was back in the ghost game.
“Sorry about that,” said Dee as she slid into her seat. “I needed to wash my face. Gah! My eyes hurt from crying.”
“I heard cucumbers were good for reducing swelling.” I paused. “Wait, no. That was cucumbers were good as dildos.”
“Eww!” Dee snorted with laughter. “Remind me to never buy cucumbers again. That’s a salad I don’t want to eat.”
“Oh, my God. Is that a lesbian joke?”
“What? No—” She rolled her eyes. “You are so bad.” She grabbed a tissue and wiped her nose. “So tell me about the dead guy.”
I told her everything that happened from the time I discovered Carson’s body to my last sighting of the ghost child. I skipped the parts where I asked Ben to look out for Justin. “Something’s really off about that place.”
“We should go check it out.”
“No. The last time we played detective I ended up accused of murder.”
She waved off that concern. “There isn’t anyone for you to kill at an empty house. Besides, you have a detective in your pocket, or should I say, your panties.”
“Ha ha. He’s not in my panties.”
“Yet.”
“Shut up.”
She rolled her eyes. “Look, Justin’s grandparents are picking him up in a couple of hours. They’re taking him to Disney World for a week.”
“Darren’s parents?” I asked. “The ones who raised the devil’s spawn?”
“Ted and Vickie are really nice. I love them. They’ve been planning this trip with Justin for almost a year. Besides, I’m not going to let my kid miss out on Mickey Mouse and Epcot because his dad is a dick.”
“Okay.” I was surprised at how alarmed I felt about Justin not being around. If my sister, the champion worrier, was cool with this trip, then I figured I should be, too. I wondered how Ben would feel about haunting a Florida theme park. I’d feel better if I knew he was there watching over Justin.
A Spirited Defense (Violetta Graves Mysteries Book 2) Page 2
