Final Call - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 4)

by Terri Reid

  “You ready to go, Miss O’Reilly,” Andy asked.

  Mary nodded. “I just have to grab my coat and mittens,” she said. “I ended up with a bunch of chocolate frosted doughnuts I can’t eat. Would you boys mind eating some while I run upstairs?”

  “Cool!” Andy said, dropping his sled on the porch and clomping through her front room with his heavy boots, leaving a trail of snow in his wake.

  His brothers hesitated, looking at the mess on the floor.

  “I have to mop my floor later anyway,” she said to them. “It really doesn’t matter if you track a little snow in.”

  They grinned and headed for the kitchen table.

  Mary went upstairs slowly. She still wasn’t fully recovered from her experience at Winneshiek, but she certainly wasn’t going to let a few bumps and bruises get in the way of sledding on a perfect winter day. She gathered her hat and mittens and was about to leave her room when her phone rang. She flipped it open to answer it. “Hello?”

  “Mary, it’s Bradley. I was wondering if I could come over today so we could go through Jeannine’s case.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I can’t,” she replied. “I’ve already made plans for the day. But I would be happy to meet with you on Monday, if that would work for you.”

  She didn’t dare tell him she was going sledding, she just knew he’d call Rosie and they would bully her into going back to bed.

  “Yeah, sure, that would be fine,” he replied, wondering what her plans could possibly be on a bright, snowy Saturday.

  “We’re done,” the combined voices of the Brennan boys called from below. It was almost harmonic, Mary thought, the two older boys in that funny stage when their voices vacillated between sounding like men and sounding like squeaky toys and Andy’s alto. She placed her hand over the mouthpiece. “I’ll be right down,” she called back.

  Bradley thought he heard the sound of a man’s voice in the background. Did Mary have a date?

  “I’m sorry, Bradley,” she said. “I really have to go now. I’ll see you on Monday.”

  Three hours later Mary dragged herself up the porch stairs and threw herself against her front door. She had very nearly paid the Brennan boys to pull her back from the park on their sleds; however she decided she had a little more dignity than that – but it had been close. She’d forgotten how much energy boys at that age had. If they could somehow harness that energy, the world’s fuel problems would be over.

  They would have still been there if a phone call from their mother to the oldest boy’s cell phone hadn’t called them home. Mrs. Brennan said another storm was brewing and this time it promised freezing rain.

  Mary looked at the container of salt sitting in the corner of the porch and thought about tossing some on the steps, but the freezing rain would defeat the purpose she decided.

  She entered her house and made it as far as her recliner. “I’ll just rest for a moment,” she said, sitting down and relaxing still dressed in her coat, hat and boots. “Then I’ll take off my coat.”

  She sat back in the chair, lifted the foot rest, closed her eyes and slipped into oblivion.

  Mary opened her eyes, everything was dark and she was really warm. It took her a few moments to realize that she was still in the recliner in her coat and boots. “Wow, I must have been really tired,” she said, sitting up in the chair.

  She pushed herself out of the recliner and took off her coat and boots and put them away. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and while placing it on the counter in the kitchen, she chanced to look up at the clock. It was after ten o’clock. She’d been asleep for seven hours.

  She opened the refrigerator, pulled out the milk and brought it to the counter. Then she saw those lovely Brennan boys had left two chocolate frosted doughnuts. “Sounds like a nutritious dinner to me,” she said, as she poured a tall glass of milk.

  “Ah, Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken,” Mike said, appearing on the other side of the counter.

  “I can’t believe I slept that long,” she said.

  “With the life you’ve been leading lately, I can’t believe you’re awake,” he countered.

  She smiled. “I had the greatest time today,” she said. “I went sledding with the boys down the street.”

  “Sledding? How old are you, Mary O’Reilly?” he teased.

  Her eyes twinkled. “I know, you’d think I’d know better,” she said, taking a huge bite of the doughnut. “But I suppose I’ll never grow up.”

  “You’re going to make a great mom someday,” Mike said.

  Mary looked wistful. “I’d like to be a mom,” she said. “But I don’t know if it’s in the cards for me.”

  “Why not? Is this because Bradley is being so obtuse?”

  She shook her head. “No, I mean, yes, he’s being obtuse. But that’s not it. When I got shot, it messed me up pretty bad inside,” she said, “The doctors weren’t sure what kinds of problems the scar tissue would cause. So, I just don’t know.”

  “I think that whether or not you’re able to give birth, you will still be a great mom someday.”

  “Thank you,” she said, with a wide smile. “That’s very nice of you to say.”

  He leaned over and placed a kiss on her forehead. She could feel the waft of cold air. “You are a very nice lady,” he said, “Even when you tease me.”

  “And you are a very good friend,” she said, “especially when you tease me.”

  He laughed. “So, do you want to go clubbing with me?”

  He demonstrated a dance move made popular by John Travolta.

  “Wow, that was very impressive,” Mary laughed. “But I think I’m going to take a shower and go to bed.”

  “You are such a party animal,” he said, as he started to fade away. “Sweet dreams, sweetcakes.”

  She giggled. “Good night, Mike.”

  Chapter Forty

  Mary woke from a deep sleep. Something was making noise. She heard her doorbell ring. That’s strange; ghosts don’t use doorbells, her fuddled mind reasoned. It took another ring of the bell for her to realize that she needed to get up and answer the door.

  Grabbing her robe, she glanced at the clock on her way down the stairs; it was nearly two o’clock in the morning. Not even the witching hour. Something was definitely off.

  Having the presence of mind to look through the peek hole before opening the door in the middle of the night, Mary was even more confused by what she saw. A tall man, with thick blonde hair, broad shoulders and one of most handsome faces she’d ever seen was standing on her doorstep. Did angels ever need help?

  She cracked the door open. “Can I help you?”

  He smiled and her stomach did a little flip. Wow! Nice smile.

  “Mary? Mary O’Reilly” he asked.

  She nodded. “Yes, I’m Mary.”

  “I’m Ian, Ian MacDougal,” he said, and when he didn’t see a flare of recognition in her eyes added, “Your brother Sean said you’d be expecting me. I’m from Edinburgh.”

  He had a lovely Scottish brogue to go with his great looking body. Mary sighed inwardly and leaned against the door. There was something about an accent just melted her insides.

  She looked up to see him staring at her questioningly.

  Get a grip, Mary, and wipe the drool off your mouth, she chastised herself.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, pulling the door open. “I suppose I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”

  Ian didn’t enter the house. “No, I should apologize then,” he stammered. “I can’t believe I woke you in the middle of the night, you not expecting me at all. What a bounder you must think me.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No problem, in my line of work I’m always getting up in the middle of the night. Come in.”

  He carried a suitcase in each hand and a computer case strapped over his back. He was wearing a thick black overcoat that was unbuttoned and hung open, so she could see the faded blue jeans and cream cable-knit sweater that were s
tretched over his well-formed body. This was not the body of any professor she ever had.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  She gave herself another mental slap.

  “No, everything’s fine. Sorry. Come in, could I get you a cup of tea?”

  “I don’t want to be a bother?”

  “Tea’s no bother,” she said. “Besides, while you drink it, I’ll make up your room.”

  He put the suitcases down, shrugged out of his coat and looked around. “I had a bit of a problem coming up your stairs,” he said. “The ice is coating everything out there.”

  “It’s a typical Midwest winter,” Mary said, “I guess you’ll have the pleasure of getting to know it quite well.”

  He grinned. “Well, lucky me.”

  He stood with his coat in his hand and looked at her questioningly.

  “Oh, the closet is over there,” Mary said, “and the downstairs bathroom is around the corner, in case you want to freshen up.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be just a minute.”

  Mary put the kettle on the stove and then grabbed her cell phone. She looked at her text messages and sure enough, there were several messages from Sean. He knew she never looked at her text messages.

  Mary, Ian is coming in tonight. Got my days mixed up, sorry.

  Mary, Ian’s plane has been delayed; he’ll arrive at O’Hare about midnight.

  Mary, Ian’s not quite as old as I led you to believe.

  Mary, if it’s after midnight and you are reading this, it’s too late to call me.

  “So, what fine trick did Sean play on you?” Ian asked from across the counter.

  She looked at him and saw the humor in his eyes. “Well, you were supposed to be an elderly professor from the University of Edinburgh. So old, in fact, I reinforced the banister so you could pull your way up the stairs.”

  A grin spread across his face and into his clear blue eyes. “Ah, so you have a boyfriend who might have a problem with our arrangement then?”

  Bradley’s image came to mind, but she pushed it away. “No, no boyfriend to worry about.”

  Ah, so she’s not acknowledging the dolt Sean told me about, he thought.

  “Well, I’ve a bonnie sweetheart back home who would tear my eyes out if she got a look at you,” he confessed. “Good thing there’s an ocean between us.”

  Mary laughed. “Do you have a picture of her?”

  He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. On the very top was a photo of a gorgeous redhead, her arms wrapped tightly around Ian.

  “She’s beautiful,” Mary said.

  “Ah, and a more than a wee bit jealous,” he said, with a sparkle in his eyes. “We’re to be married in the summer.”

  “That’s lovely. You’re in love,” she said, feeling a little bit jealous.

  “Aye, I’m sunk, she’s got her hooks into me well and good.”

  “And you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

  He nodded. “I am a right willing prisoner.”

  “Who’s a prisoner?” Mike asked, appearing behind Ian.

  Ian turned around and his face went a little pale.

  “You’re a ghost,” he said.

  “You can see me?” Mike asked.

  “You can see him?” Mary asked at the same time.

  Ian nodded, still staring at Mike. “I’ve been able to see ghosts since I was a laddie,” he said. “I nearly died when I was three, since then, the other world’s been an open book to me.”

  He looked over his shoulder to Mary and then back to Mike. “Your brother mentioned you had psychic encounters regularly, I suppose I didn’t expect them to be so...”

  “Damned good-looking?” Mike asked.

  “Bothersome?” Mary suggested.

  “Corporeal,” he stuttered.

  “Did this guy just call me a fish?” Mike asked Mary.

  “No, he just admired your body,” she said.

  “Hey, buddy, I don’t swing that way.”

  Mary choked and Ian laughed.

  “What I meant was your ghostly body is easily discernable, you’re not a hazy cloud wafting over the moors.”

  “Okay, I can live with that,” Mike said. “Excuse the pun.”

  “Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”

  “No, go for it,” Mike agreed.

  Mary poured Ian his tea and handed it over to him. “I’m going to run upstairs and make up your bed,” she said. “I’ll let you two get acquainted.”

  They both waited until Mary was upstairs and couldn’t hear them. “You mess with her, I’ll haunt you for the rest of your life,” Mike said firmly.

  “Already been warned off,” he said. “Have you met her brother, Sean?”

  Mike shook his head. “No, but I’ve heard her side of conversations. I think I’d like the guy.”

  “So, tell me about Bradley.”

  “Why?”

  “Sean seems to think he needs a reminder that our Mary shouldn’t be taken for granted.”

  Chuckling, Mike made himself comfortable on the sofa. “Well, Professor, let me tell you a story.”

  Chapter Forty-one

  Bradley was back at the house in Sycamore. He parked his police car in the drive and walked to the front door. The sun was shining and the lilac bush in front of the house was in full bloom. He stopped for a moment to inhale the sweet fragrance.

  As he got closer, he could smell dinner. That was a surprise, Jeannine rarely cooked. She preferred take-out to home cooked.

  He let himself in through the front door, placed his jacket and computer case in the hall closet, opened the gun safe in the wall and carefully locked his gun away. Jeannine was a stickler for gun safety. She wanted to be sure they were never careless about his weapon, especially now that the baby was coming.

  He inhaled deeply as he walked toward the kitchen. It smelled like pot roast. How did he get so lucky?

  He saw her standing next to the sink, peeling potatoes. She had done her hair differently, he thought, as he moved closer. She still looked trim and tiny from the back, even though he knew she was eight months pregnant in front. A rush of love filled his heart. How could a man be so lucky?

  He moved up behind her, placed his hands on her waist and kissed her on her neck. She leaned back against him with a satisfied purr. He slid his arms around her and held her against him, his head lying on the top of hers. “A beautiful wife, a home-cooked meal and soon, a new baby,” he murmured, “What more could a man ask for?”

  She turned in his arms and linked her arms around his neck. “How about a welcome home kiss?” Mary asked.

  Mary?

  Bradley looked down and found his arms filled with a very pregnant Mary O’Reilly.

  He glanced around the room. This was his kitchen, but now that he paid attention, there were subtle differences.

  “Bradley, is everything okay?” she asked.

  “Mary, you’re pregnant,” he stammered.

  “I’m eight months pregnant,” she said. “This is not a news flash.”

  “But, whose...I mean am I...,” he stopped and shook his head. “I seem to be confused.”

  “Did you get hit in the head at work today,” Mary asked, running her hand slowly up his skull.

  Shaking his head, he stared down at her. “I must have because I’ve just entered an alternate universe.”

  She laughed and moved closer to him. “Let me see if I can bring you back home,” she whispered, sliding her arms around his neck again and pulling him down to her for a passionate kiss.

  “Mmmmmm,” she moaned after a few minutes, “That was nice. Welcome home. Bradley.”

  He placed his forehead against hers, took a deep breath and tried to analyze the situation. Her kiss felt right. Her body fit perfectly in his arms. And when she was pressed up against him, he felt their child move against him. He was home, but it wasn’t right. Where was Jeannine?

  “I’m dead Bradley.”

  H
e looked up and saw Jeannine sitting at the kitchen table. No, it wasn’t Jeannine, he corrected, it was her ghost.

  “Jeannine, what are you doing here?”

  Mary turned and smiled at Jeannine. “Jeannine and I were visiting,” Mary said easily. “I’m trying to talk her in to staying for dinner.”

  “But, she’s dead,” he said.

  Jeannine looked at Mary and shrugged. “I’ve been dead for about ten years now,” she said. “I think Mary’s right; you must have hit your head at work.”

  He shook his head. “What’s happening to me?” he asked.

  “I think it all goes back to New Year’s Eve two years ago,” Jeannine said. “When you asked Mary if she thought I was dead. Do you remember that Bradley?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you remember the conversation?”

  “I wondered if you were dead. Then I said if you were, she would have seen you and, of course, she would have told me,” he said slowly, remembering the exchange. “And she said that of course she would tell me, unless you were already a client and had sworn her to secrecy.”

  “And you laughed at her response,” Jeannine said. “Mary told you the truth, as much as she could ethically tell you, and you laughed at her response.”

  He turned to Mary, “You told me the truth.”

  She shrugged, “I really try to always tell the truth,” she replied. “I thought you knew that much about me, Bradley. I thought you trusted me.”

  “She saved your life,” Jeannine added, standing up and walking over to him. “She saved your life and you threw her under the bus.”

  “I was confused. I was in shock,” he said, trying to justify his actions. “I didn’t know what I was saying.”

  The beep of a car horn interrupted him. “Oh,” Mary said brightly, moving out of his arms. “That’s my ride.”

  “Your ride?” Bradley asked.

  She pulled off the big white apron that had covered her clothes and hung it on the pantry door. “It was nice seeing you again.”

  “Wait, you have to stay,” he said. “You made dinner.”

  “Oh, it will be done in a few minutes,” she said, “I hope you enjoy it.”