by Terri Reid
“But with Rick it was different?” she prompted.
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, now that I think about it, it was different with him,” he replied. “I wonder if he has PTSD.”
“I asked him about that,” she admitted.
He smiled at her. “Well, of course you did,” he said.
She shrugged, a little embarrassed. “Well, Mike said this was important,” she defended. “So, I wanted to make sure I got all the information.”
“Information on what?” Mike asked, appearing next to them.
“Thanks. Information on Rick,” Mary said. “I had lunch with him today.”
“Good,” Mike replied. “By the way, Clarissa is finally settled down with Maggie and considering sleeping.”
Bradley laughed. “I don’t know where they get the energy,” he said. “Mary was saying that Rick told her he hadn’t been happy since boot camp, and I wondered if he had PTSD.”
“He told me that he considered it, too,” Mary added. “And he even went to see some counselors. But they couldn’t help him. He was still sad.”
Bradley nodded. “It was like he carried around a shadow.”
Mary quickly looked over at him. “What did you say?” she asked.
“Like he carried around this shadow?”
“Yeah, that,” she said. “When I was at lunch with him, for a moment I thought there was someone, something, right behind him. But then it was gone. I figured I must have imagined it.”
“You tend to have pretty good instincts when it comes to things like that,” Bradley said.
“And then Rick told me that he often thought he was seeing things out of the corner of his eye,” she continued. “Especially when he was walking past a mirror or a window.”
“Do spirits attach themselves to humans?” Bradley asked Mike.
Mike shrugged. “I don’t know for sure,” he said. “But it makes sense, doesn’t it? When you talk about possession, it’s just a spirit attaching itself to someone.”
“But could they, not totally possess, just influence them?” Mary asked.
“That’s a good question,” Mike replied. “And something I’m going to have to do a little research on.”
“I wonder if Rick were put under hypnosis,” Mary said.
Bradley smiled. “Ian could probably meet us in Sycamore,” he added.
“We could introduce him to Chicago-style hot dogs,” Mary said with a grin.
“I’ll call him in the morning,” Bradley said.
Chapter Twenty-one
Bradley stood on the top step on the second floor, a flashlight clutched in his hand, listening to the sounds below. They were subtle sounds: a cabinet opening and closing, movement across the floor, a drawer opening. But it was enough to know there was someone downstairs in their home. Was it human or specter? The only way to know was to investigate. He cautiously slipped one foot on the next step, making sure to place his foot near the side of the stair where the supports underneath the step stopped any creaking. Slowly, step by step, he moved downstairs, the flashlight dimmed against his palm.
Reaching the first floor, he glanced at the door—still locked from the inside. Obviously it wasn’t the point of entry. He listened and heard soft noises coming from the kitchen. The intruder was still in his home. Pressing himself against the living room wall, he sidled towards the kitchen, hoping to catch the invader unaware. He paused for a moment at the closet door, wondering if he should retrieve his gun. Deciding that the noise from the opening door would alert whoever it was in the kitchen, he decided that surprise was his best weapon.
With the stealth of a jungle cat, he crept the remaining few feet to the entrance of the kitchen, jumped around shining the flashlight into the room and screamed, “Freeze!” It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light and discern what he’d caught. In the beam of the flashlight, a pair of eyes, widened in surprise, stared back at him. With a fork filled with chocolate cake halfway between the plate on the counter and her mouth, Mary stood frozen in place.
“Mary?” Bradley asked, dropping the flashlight and turning on the kitchen light. “Why are you down here eating in the dark?”
She swallowed loudly and then took a deep breath, trying to get her heart to resume a normal pace. “Because I was hungry,” she replied, her voice a little shaky. “And when you stand up and eat, it’s fewer calories.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, coming around and enveloping her in his arms. “I am so sorry I scared you.” Mary’s tummy jumped.
“Hiccup.”
He stepped away from her. “What was that?”
“Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.”
Mary put her hands on her stomach and her eyes widened in amazement. “The baby has the hiccups,” she said softly. “How sweet is that?”
Bradley placed his hand on her belly. “Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.”
“That’s amazing,” he said. “I didn’t know they had hiccups inside you.”
She looked back at him. “Well, maybe it has something to do with his mother being scared to death by father,” she suggested.
“I really do apologize,” he said. “I thought someone had broken in.”
“To eat our cake?” she asked.
He smiled down at her. “Well, it is Rosie’s chocolate cake,” he reasoned.
She smiled. “That’s true,” she said. “Point taken.”
“Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.”
“Oh, poor thing,” Mary said. “I hope it doesn’t hurt.”
“Well, I could…” Bradley began.
“If you are even thinking about scaring us again, you can forget it,” she said.
He chuckled. “Okay, it’s forgotten. Maybe if you drink a lot of water.”
“And then I’ll be up all night going to the bathroom,” she reminded him.
Sighing, he reached up over her and pulled a plate out of the cabinet. “Any more of that cake left?” he asked.
She grinned and nodded. “In the fridge,” she said, picking up her own plate and carrying it to the table.
Bradley walked over to the fridge and pulled out the plate of cake. Then he turned to Mary. “Glass of milk?” he asked.
“That would be lovely,” she replied.
“Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.”
“Okay, this is kind of adorable,” she said.
“Yeah, it really is,” Bradley said as he put the milk on the counter and searched for two cups.
An hour later Mary lay in her bed, surrounded by pillows, her hands resting on her belly. “Hiccup. Hiccup. Hiccup.”
She groaned and looked at the bedside clock that read 1:00 am. “Oh, yeah, adorable,” she grumbled. “Remind me to ground you once you’re born.”
Chapter Twenty-two
The Nine East café was crowded with the usual, early morning, coffee throng, but somehow Mary was able to pick Eddie Koch out of the crowd right away. He was a middle-aged man who looked more like his mother than his father, and he was sitting morosely at a corner table, sipping from a tall mug of coffee. Mary smiled at Brenda as she passed the crowded counter.
“Hey, how are you feeling?” Brenda called.
“Like I’m ready to have this baby,” Mary replied.
Brenda laughed. “So how much longer?”
“Another two months,” Mary said.
Shaking her head sympathetically, Brenda smiled. “Oh, honey, you don’t even know uncomfortable yet,” she said.
“Thanks for the pep talk,” Mary said, rolling her eyes.
Laughing in response, Brenda shrugged. “It is what it is,” she said. “So, what can I get you?”
“Do you have any herb teas with ginger?” Mary asked.
“Upset stomach?” Brenda asked.
Looking a little chagrined, Mary nodded. “Chocolate cake at midnight.”
“Rosie’s cake?” Brenda asked.
Mary nodded.
“Well, then I can hardly blame you,” Brenda said. “I’ve go
t something that will be perfect. Take a seat and I’ll find you.”
Mary walked over to Eddie and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Mary,” she said. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
Eddie looked up and couldn’t hide his surprise when he saw Mary’s shape. When she struggled a little to get up on the tall chair, he immediately slid off his seat to help her. “Would you like to sit somewhere else?” he asked, concern in his voice. “Like a booth or one of the couches?”
Mary shook her head and smiled at him. “No, actually, once I’m up here, I’m good.”
He eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, really,” she replied. “I’m fine.”
He got back on his chair and turned to her. “You said you wanted to talk to me about my parents,” he said. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m a private investigator,” she said. “And I’ve been hired to investigate your parents’ deaths.”
He shook his head, confused. “Wait. What? They died in a car accident,” he said. “It was months ago. Why is someone investigating things now?”
“Well, new information has come forward that could indicate that perhaps it wasn’t just a car accident,” she said.
“Are you telling me that someone killed my mom and dad?” he asked. Then, his eyes widening, he stared at her for a moment. “Do you think I killed my parents?”
“Is there any reason I should think that?” she asked.
Angrily shaking his head, he pushed back against the table, his chair scraping on the floor. “I don’t have to take this crap,” he said, sliding off the chair. “I’m leaving.”
He walked around Mary towards the door. “Wait,” Mary called, sliding around in the chair. She caught the edge of the chair with her rib and winced in pain. “Ouch,” she cried out.
Eddie stopped and immediately came back to her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
She took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “I forget that I’m not as small as I used to be,” she said. She looked at him. “Could you…could we…just talk for a few moments?”
With a sigh, he nodded and went back to his chair. “I apologize,” he said. “I just…” His voice broke. “I just miss them.”
“I can’t imagine how it would be to lose your parents at the same time,” Mary said softly. “I think I would be devastated.”
“I had an argument with my dad,” he confessed. “He and Mom were at my house, and I asked him for a loan. He turned me down, and we argued.” He paused and took a deep breath. “It was so stupid. He was totally right. I was an idiot. And I never got to tell him that I was sorry.”
Frasier and Shirley appeared at the table next to them, Shirley dabbing at her eyes.
“See, I told you,” Shirley said to Frasier.
“I can’t believe it took me dying to get him to say I was right,” Frasier replied.
“I’m sure they know you’re sorry,” Mary said.
“You can’t know that,” Eddie argued.
Mary shrugged. “Well, actually, you’d be surprised,” she replied quietly and then added. “So what happened that night?”
He ran his hand over his face, dashing away the errant tears, and took a deep breath. “I lost my job and I was tired of working for other people,” he said. “So I wanted to start my own business. I asked Dad for the front money and he refused. He told me that if I wanted to start my own business, I needed to work for it. I needed to start small and then expand, not have a turn-key operation right away.”
“That must have been disappointing,” Mary replied. “It sounds like you were counting on him.”
He nodded. “I was,” he said. “I had this big plan. I was going to be the boss. I was going to show my old boss and my friends that I could do it without them.”
“And then he turned you down,” Mary said.
“Yeah, I was so mad,” Eddie admitted. “I didn’t want to start from the bottom. I knew he had the money. I thought he was being selfish.”
“So, what happened?”
“I told them to leave,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “I told them if they couldn’t help me when I needed them, what the hell kind of parents were they.”
“We knew he was just disappointed,” Shirley said. “Children say unkind things all the time they don’t really mean.”
“They left,” he said, sniffling back the tears. “And then the police came to the door a couple hours later telling me they were both dead.”
He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to gain control of his emotions. “It was like I killed them,” he said. “If I hadn’t sent them away, if they hadn’t been upset, if I’d only…”
Mary reached over and put her hand on Eddie’s hand. “No, you can’t play the what if game,” she said. “You’ll drive yourself crazy.”
He nodded. “Well, actually, I nearly did,” he said. “I took Dad’s words to heart. I started my business from the bottom. I didn’t touch any of his money. I’ve been working sixteen hour days, and you know what? He was right. I feel like I’ve finally done something with my life.” He cradled his head in his hand. “He was right.”
“Damn, he did listen,” Frasier said, with a proud smile on his face. “That’s my boy.”
“I’m sure your parents would be very proud of you,” Mary said.
He lifted his head and turned to her. “Well, I’m doing everything in my power to see that they have cause to be,” he said. He studied Mary for a moment. “If you really believe that my parents’ death was not an accident, I would like to help in any way I can.”
“Thank you,” Mary said, glancing over at Shirley and Frasier. “I think you’ve already helped me more than you know. But I promise I’ll keep you informed.”
He slid out of the chair and offered her his hand. “Thank you,” he said, and then he paused. “You know, it’s almost like I can feel them here with us now. Thank you. It’s been very comforting to speak with you.”
“You’re welcome,” Mary replied. “Please call me if you think of anything or need anything.”
“Thanks, I will.”
Chapter Twenty-three
The restaurant on Galena Avenue advertised with large letters on their plate glass windows a Senior’s Menu, and the senior citizens of the Freeport area took full advantage of it. Their parking lot filled with older model, well cared for sedans, and the waitresses were used to the sometimes odd requests from their aging customers.
Stanley, Rosie and Margo sat at a corner table looking at the menu. “I don’t know why you insist on coming here?” Rosie whispered behind her menu. “It’s obvious that both Margo and I are too young to participate in the senior discount.”
Stanley looked over at his wife, and seeing the look in her eye, thought a moment before answering. “What do you mean?” he grumbled in his usual way. “Don’t the discount start at fifty?”
A soft smile spread across her face, and she nodded happily. “No, it doesn’t,” she replied.
“Oh, well, I’ll just use the discount, and you and Margo will have to order off the regular menu,” he said, and then he smiled at her. “It’s nice for an old guy like me to have two young lookers join him for breakfast.”
“You are such a charmer,” Rosie replied, leaning over and kissing his wrinkled cheek.
“Stanley, I can honestly say that you are the best thing that ever happened to Rosie,” Margo added. “She’s a lucky gal.”
Stanley reached over and put his hand over Rosie’s hand. “No, Margo, I’m the lucky one,” he said, his eyes still filled with newlywed love. “And I thank my lucky stars every day.”
“Stanley. Stanley, is that you over there?” a male voice called out from the front of the restaurant.
Annoyed, Stanley sighed. “Melvin always likes to make an entrance,” he said, raising his hand and motioning the man over to their table. “He’s a little annoying, but he knows everyone at the VFW and he and Frasier were best friends.”
�
��Well, we can put up with just about anything to get good information,” Margo whispered, leaning forward. “Besides, he’s probably not as bad as you think.”
Melvin Redman made his way slowly to the table, stopping and chatting with most of the other patrons in the restaurant. He stopped at their table, grabbed Rosie’s hand and kissed it. “Too bad Stanley found you first, Rosie,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “We could have made such beautiful music together.”
Margo looked across the table and shook her head. “Okay, I admit it,” she said, biting back a smile. “I was wrong.”
Melvin turned to Margo and wiggled his eyebrows. “Why hello lovely lady,” he said, dropping Rosie’s hand with a thump. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
Margo rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You’re right,” she said shortly. “We haven’t.”
She turned her attention back to the menu, ignoring the man standing beside her. Slightly flustered, Melvin pulled up a seat and picked up his own menu. “So, Stanley,” he said, “other than these ladies, what looks good today?”
The waitress chose that moment to come to their table. “Hi, have you decided what you’d like?” she asked.
“I’d like a million dollars,” Melvin said, chuckling at himself.
The waitress pasted on a tired smile and nodded. “I meant on the menu,” she said.
“Well, I know that,” Melvin laughed. “I was just trying to brighten your day.”
“Well, thank you,” the waitress replied. “And what would you like to order?”
“Why don’t we place our orders first?” Margo suggested before Melvin could say another word. “And that will give Melvin a moment to review the menu.”
Subdued by Margo’s tone, Melvin buried his head in the menu and then, when it was his turn, ordered in a concise and straightforward manner.
“I think I need to apologize,” he said to the group. “I tend to go overboard when I’m trying to impress people. I think I got carried away.”
Margo turned and smiled at him. “Well, that was very nicely done,” she said. “I’m Margo. It’s nice to meet you.”
