High Court (Cid Garrett P.I. Book 2)

by Alexie Aaron

  “It’s now dead,” Macy said, shaking it like an Etch A Sketch.

  “Is that an iPhone?”

  “Yup.”

  Cid reached in his pocket and handed her a quick-charge battery pack. “Here.”

  Macy plugged it in and smiled. “Now I can compose a nasty note to Sam. Do you think, ‘Take the fucking motion-detecting light switches out of the goddamn ladies’ rooms,’ is a bit too strong?”

  Cid laughed. “Only if you add toilet emojis.”

  “I was thinking of something baser,” Macy said and stuck her phone in her purse. “Okay, now for the elevator…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cid and Macy stood in silence, waiting for the old elevator to make its way up from the basement.

  “I think I met Miguel Bautista before,” Macy said slowly as her head filled with a childhood memory.

  “He was the boy in the archives,” Cid acknowledged.

  “No, before that.”

  “You weren’t old enough. He died in 1964,” Cid argued.

  “When I was very young, I used to run around this building like it was my home. There was no place that didn’t have my sticky fingers on the walls, doors, desks, printer plates. One day, the typesetter, I can’t remember his name, sent me to the bathroom to wash the ink off my hands. I did, and then nature called. I went inside the first stall and sat down to… well, do my business, when I heard a strange sound. It may be the same thing I heard tonight, but I’m really not sure. I sensed someone was in the bathroom with me and expected to hear the next stall door opening. Instead, whoever it was stopped in front of my stall and rattled the door.”

  “That must have been irritating.”

  “It was. I said, ‘Occupied.’ I had very good vocabulary for a young child,” Macy explained. “The door rattled again. I bent down and looked under the door. There were two red feet standing in, what I initially thought was, a puddle of piss. I started laughing. ‘You wee-wee-ed,’ I called out. The owner of the feet curled its toes. ‘You can’t come in here. Use the other toilet,’ I said in the bossiest of ways. The other child bent down and looked under the door. That’s when I saw the bullet hole in his forehead and the milky dead eyes. I remember screaming until someone came for me. I have hated public bathrooms ever since.”

  “And you just remembered it now?” Cid questioned.

  “Yes.”

  The elevator jerked to a stop. Cid lifted the gate and reached in and opened the old but well-maintained inner gate. The two got in. “Up or down?” Cid asked.

  “Up,” Macy said. “Let’s see what happens as we pass the second floor. Four please.”

  Cid closed the doors and pressed the button.

  “You’re not going to film this?” Macy asked.

  “No, we know it’s Mr. Baylor, and I doubt you want this on TV.”

  “Yes, I mean, no! I don’t want it on PEEPs.”

  Cid smiled.

  Macy liked the way he smiled. She fought the urge to reach up and trace the laugh lines.

  Cid looked down at Macy. Her expression was so soft; the newswoman was gone. A desirable woman stood in her place. He wanted to pull her face to his and kiss her.

  “I really appreciate your doing this,” Macy said, breaking the spell.

  “My pleasure. Hang on, we’re passing the second floor.”

  The elevator shuddered before stopping.

  “Sam says the inner gate vibrates open, and the security system stops the car from moving in either direction,” Macy said, looking around her for Mr. Baylor.

  Cid nodded as he muscled the doors back together and pressed four. The elevator started rising again.

  “Poor Mr. Baylor,” Macy said. “Imagine dying alone in here.”

  “Death comes in the oddest of places.”

  “Is there a Death? I mean an actual entity that is death?” Macy asked.

  “Literature, particularly poems, lead us to think that there is. But I know a few people who have died and come back. They’re used to seeing all kinds of entities, but not one of them have mentioned the archetypal, black-gowned, skeletal-handed, scythe-holding Death.” Cid looked at her disappointed face. “There is a light though.”

  “Have you seen it?” she asked excitedly.

  “I have seen it reflected in the eyes of Mia and her adopted son Dieter. They cross over the lost. I’m not sure how they do it, but the light comes when they need it. Mia once described it as a conveyor belt where people’s souls get sorted.”

  “Mia must be a special person, as is her adopted son.”

  “She’s got her faults, but she’s the kindest person I’ve met.”

  “Are you in love with her?” Macy asked.

  “You’re very direct.”

  “Why leave things up to my imagination when I can have the truth?”

  “How would you know if I lied to you?” Cid asked.

  “I wouldn’t, but I sense that you’re a truthful person, even with yourself.”

  “So you’re asking, do I love Mia, my best friend’s wife?” Cid asked, lifting an eyebrow.

  “Oh, I see the problem. Nevermind,” Macy said.

  “I’m not in love with Mia, but I do love her though. It’s impossible not to.”

  “Intriguing. Mia Sets the Bar High for Womankind.”

  Cid couldn’t help laughing. It started off with a snicker, and then his full robust laugh filled the rising elevator and echoed down the shaft.

  Macy wrinkled her nose and joined in the laughter.

  The elevator stopped at the fourth floor. Cid, with the help of Macy’s instructions, opened the inner and outer gates so they could exit. “No wonder they had elevator men and women,” he said. “I doubt most of the engineering-challenged could figure out how to run this. The automatic functions aren’t jiving with the original machinery.”

  “That’s why we don’t advertise we have one. The employees will help a handicapped individual with the elevator if necessary.”

  Cid looked around him. “This is a beautiful old building. Look at the cornice work. That’s elm,” he said, reaching up. “You’re never going to see the like again. Not in elm.”

  “I had forgotten you’re in restoration. You should see the foundations. They built this building first, for printing papers. The top three stories were built when the profits would allow. The Gazette is one of the few old buildings that is actually being used for what it was originally intended. For example,” Macy plucked Cid’s sleeve and took him to a north-facing window. “See the library? It’s the building with the lions on the steps, lit up in yellow?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was the courthouse. They used to hang people just to the left of the steps. And further down, the town hall was formerly a brothel. Clare, my best friend from high school, works there in the mayor’s office. She and the others on the first floor can hear the squeak of very active springs overhead.”

  It took a moment for Cid to pick up what Macy was trying to allude to. “That would be a residual haunt. Someone must have had a real good time for it to echo through the years.”

  “Well, I hope they got their money’s worth,” Macy said wryly.

  “Where did you say the windows are that Miguel Bautista looks out of?” Cid asked to change the subject.

  “Follow me. This formerly was used as the layout area. I’m not sure what the space was used for before that,” she admitted.

  Macy unlocked the door, but before she turned on the lights, Cid caught her hand and hissed, “Look.”

  “He’s here. What should we do?”

  Cid pulled out a micro-recorder and whispered, “I’ve got this.” He quietly walked over and stood beside the bleeding child and looked out the window. He set the recorder on the sill. Miguel looked up at him. It took everything Cid had not to recoil when he viewed the dead face before him. “Miguel, I’ve come to help you if I can. Your mother…”

  “Doesn’t understand how to do things,” the boy said, enunciating
each word very clearly. “She sticks her head in the sand when they are dealing drugs out of Cabin 4. I’m going to get proof and take it to the sheriff.”

  “Miguel, you do know you’re dead, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you’re talking about Will Grady and not his father William?”

  “Yes. I tried to talk to him, but he couldn’t hear me.”

  “That must have been frustrating.”

  “All investigative reporters need to exercise patience.”

  “Yes. I imagine so,” Cid said. “Do you know who killed you?”

  “Not which one. There was a gang of teens. One went berserk and killed two of the group while I was watching the cabin from a cowardly post behind a tree. I didn’t see. I don’t have proof. I heard the others tried to stop him, but they were all com… com…”

  “Complicit?” Macy asked.

  Miguel turned his head and nodded.

  “You’re very smart for a boy so young,” Macy said, inching her way closer.

  “With all due respect, Miss Eggleston, my body died a young boy, but my soul has lived on for over fifty years. Fifty years of watching, learning, and waiting for the right time to bring justice to my family.”

  “You’re amazing,” she said.

  “Mr. Baylor thinks I’m a pest.”

  “That he does,” Macy said, smiling. “Mr. Baylor’s dead too.”

  “I caught on to that a few years ago,” Miguel said.

  “What can we do to help you?” Cid asked again.

  “Faye is researching, but she doesn’t know the townspeople like Macy knows them. Help her,” Miguel said and disappeared.

  “Who’s Faye?” Macy asked Cid.

  “Someone who seems to be helping Miguel,” Cid said vacillating.

  “I got that from context. Spill it,” Macy ordered.

  “Off the record?”

  Macy sighed and agreed, “Off the record.”

  “Faye is a ghost who has adopted the construction group.”

  “More,” Macy encouraged.

  “She died in an old building we were renovating. She doesn’t know who killed her or who she was in life. Faye gets her memories of book plots mixed up with her own history. One day, she could swear she’s Jo from Little Women, the next, Anne of Green Gables…”

  “Ahem!” Faye cleared her voice and appeared, much to the agony of Macy who had seen one ghost too many that day. “I said I was reading Anne of Green Gables.”

  “Sorry, Faye, I misunderstood.”

  “So why are you talking to the enemy?” she asked, her hands on her hips.

  “Macy is not the enemy.”

  “Is she not a reporter from the Gazette?” Faye questioned.

  “She’s the managing editor…”

  “She’s right here,” Macy said, tapping her chest.

  “She’s going to get the story before I am if you’re not careful,” Faye spat.

  “I’m not invisible, am I?” Macy asked, pulling out her compact mirror.

  “She’s being haunted by Miguel and has been since she was a child. I’d say that gives her the right to the story.”

  “That’s not fair!” Faye said, stomping her foot.

  “Can you guys hear me?” Macy asked.

  Both combatants turned their heads and looked at her and chorused, “Yes.”

  “Good, because, Faye, nice to meet you, and, Cid, let her have the story. I’m just offering my help if you need it.”

  “Off the record?” the two asked at the same time.

  “Yes, off the damn record. What is it with you people?... Ghost person, real person? I can’t print any of this without proof. We need to get proof.”

  “There are two bodies buried in the woods. Is that proof enough?” Faye asked.

  “That’s a start,” Cid said. “How?”

  “Luminosa.”

  “Where?” he asked.

  “At the old road marker.”

  “You’re saying Luminosa killed two men and buried them at the old road marker?” Macy asked.

  “No, she may or may not have killed them. She’s confused. Says it’s…”

  “Wait!” Macy held up her hand. “How are you talking to a woman who’s been dead for fifty-two years?”

  “I open my mouth and words come out,” Faye snapped.

  Cid started to correct Faye, but Macy stopped him. “I wasn’t very clear. This is what I understand… Faye, you’re a ghost that works with Kiki Pickles’s renovation company.”

  “I don’t work for her. I’m an independent investigative reporter.”

  “Okay fine. You’re researching the deaths of the Bautistas?”

  “Yes. We hope to get justice for Luminosa and her family so they can move on into the light and Kiki can finish the construction job. Cid can go home to Mia, and Jesse and I can finish building our house.”

  “Whoa, Mia and I aren’t…”

  Both women looked at Cid.

  “Mia and Ted. I’m going home to Mia and Ted.”

  “Isn’t that what I just said?” Faye asked Macy.

  “That’s what I got,” Macy said. “So, let’s move out of this mess and into why you’re in my building.”

  “Miguel asked me to help. For full disclosure, he didn’t ask me in words; he gave me clues, and I followed up on them. He’s kind of a silent partner.”

  “He just spoke to us,” Cid said.

  “Well goody for you two,” Faye huffed. “He probably would have spoken to me if he hadn’t had to run interference with the archives clerk and Macy. The boy only has so much energy.”

  Cid leaned back against the wall and tried to follow the discourse.

  “You’re the one who was using the microfiche!” Macy exclaimed. “Can ghosts do that?” she asked Cid.

  He nodded.

  “Why?” she asked Faye.

  “Miguel and I think that there were dirty dealings going on prior to the Bautistas’ deaths.”

  “What is your basis for that assumption?” Macy asked, interested.

  “The way the investigation was handled. There was pressure from way up to, not only take away the investigation from the Sheriff’s Department, but to cancel it. I was trying to find out who was the mayor and on the town council at the time.”

  Macy nodded. “Very good. You’ve done this before.”

  “Have I?” Faye squeaked and repeated in a lower tone, “Have I?”

  Cid, honor-bound by Will Grady and nondisclosure-bound by Calvin Franks via Kiki Pickles, said nothing. To enter the conversation, he would have to out Jake and, in doing so, Kiki’s affection for the ghost in the PEEPs computer. So, he just listened. After all, it was an investigation, not a competition. If it were a competition, he had most of the missing information they needed, and with Jake working the Calvin Franks end, there was no doubt that he would arrive at the answer sooner.

  “Why not work together like Miguel suggested?” he asked the women.

  “Share information?” Macy asked.

  “Yes. If you want, you can both run it through me.”

  “You wouldn’t mind?” Faye asked.

  “It’s what I’m here for,” Cid said a bit too lightly. “We can meet up or have a conference call once a day until we figure this thing out.”

  “First thing is to call the sheriff and have him dig up those bodies,” Macy said.

  “I’ve got a forensic expert on-site. Mind if I use him and report the findings to the sheriff?” Cid asked.

  “That’s better,” Macy agreed. “My mind is on fire.”

  “Me too!” Faye said, feeling a sisterhood with the newswoman.

  “It’s getting late for me,” Cid admitted. “I still have a construction site to help oversee.”

  “And I have a paper,” Macy said.

  “I’m going to guard the site until your forensic guy digs it up,” Faye promised.

  “Let’s touch base tomorrow after supper,” Cid said. “I should have some i
nformation, I’m having my computer guy look into.”

  “I’ll pull the crime page entries for a year previous to the murders,” Macy said. “Faye, they will be on my desk by 3 PM if you want to float by.”

  Faye giggled at Macy using the word float. Faye disappeared, leaving Cid and Macy to lock up the fourth floor.

  “You’re a man of many surprises, Cid Garrett.”

  “As are you, Macy Eggleston.”

  “You’ve got a ghost in your employ.”

  “You’ve got two,” Cid said, avoiding the mention of Jake.

  “This isn’t a competition.”

  “No, I believe we’re working together. About your ghost problem, do you want me to…”

  “No, leave them be. I think if we can get justice for Miguel, he’ll move on. Mr. Baylor is a valuable employee of the Gazette. I wouldn’t dream of letting him go.”

  Cid was oddly pleased about her changing attitude. “You seem to be taking this in stride.”

  “No, I’m pissing myself inside. Just don’t let Faye know. I get the idea she’d be pleased to know she’s unnerving me.”

  “I think you’re right. I don’t really know Faye that well, so be careful. One never knows exactly what a ghost is thinking about, or how they’ll react.”

  “You speak from experience.”

  “Yes. I’ve had some great mentors, but I’m just feeling my way around on my own.”

  “You could have fooled me. Thank you for coming out tonight, and not just for the ghosts.”

  “I enjoyed myself too. Let’s do it again. I get paid on Friday…”

  “Are you asking me for a date?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, I’m accepting.”

  “We’ll firm things up Thursday.”

  “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Kiki woke suddenly in the dark hospital room to find herself being dragged out of her bed.

  “What the hell is going on?” she asked as a cold hand encircled her left ankle.

  “Funny you should say that,” an orange-eyed demon said. “Mind your head.”

  “Why?” she asked, only to have her head hit hard on the floor, following her body. She was dragged out of her room and into the hospital corridor. “Help me!” she cried to the nurses who didn’t seem to see her. They stood still as if they were nothing more than dressmaker’s dummies.