Murder By Design

by Erin McCarthy

  “You don’t sound shocked.”

  “I sound caught off-guard,” I said, leaning against the barstool. “I never met him in person. I only had phone and email communications with him, but it’s still shocking.”

  “When was the last time you talked to him?”

  “Yesterday.” If you didn’t count when I spoke to his ghost today. “I made arrangements to go over there today.”

  “The reason I’m asking is because you were the last call he made on his cellphone.”

  That was actually unnerving. A shiver rolled up my back. “That’s actually really creepy.”

  “Did he say what he had planned? Was he supposed to be there at the house today?”

  “He didn’t tell me anything. And no, he gave me the code to the lockbox. It was my understanding he wasn’t there that often. It’s a summer weekend house.” I was walking a fine line. I knew he had been killed in that house and his body moved, but there was no way I could tell Marner that. I hated lying to him, but I didn’t exactly have a choice.

  “Was anything out of the ordinary at the house?”

  “It was my first time there, so I don’t have any comparison, but there was nothing out of place, unless you call gold carpet out of place in a lake house, which I do.” I still felt the need to shake my head over that. I debated when and how to confess that I had seen Cezar’s ghost, thought it was a body, and called 9-1-1. In total wimpy fashion, I decided that on the phone wasn’t the way to go. Nor was telling him while he was at work.

  “This isn’t funny, Bailey.” There was censure in his voice.

  Which of course made me feel defensive. “I’m not laughing, Jake. But I didn’t see anything that screamed crime scene.”

  He sighed. “Why is it that I have a girlfriend who is constantly connected to murders?”

  Okay, one, he had never called me his girlfriend before. That was interesting. Two, I didn’t seek out murder, so that was totally unfair. “I’m a home stager with a low risk life-style. This isn’t my fault.”

  “Date a nice girl, my mother said.”

  That annoyed me. “Don’t date me because your mother wants you too.”

  Alyssa’s eyes widened as she listened to my half of the conversation.

  “That’s not what I said. Come on, don’t be like that.”

  “Well, don’t accuse me of being connected to murder as if I brought it on myself. That’s not fair. Especially since I just had to stare Nick Pitrello in the eye in a courtroom.”

  There was a long pause and for a second I thought he had hung up on me. But then he said, “I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.” His voice was low, remorseful.

  It touched me and deflated my anger. “Thanks. I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything more about Mr. Wozniak.”

  “Okay. I—"

  Whatever he was going to say he didn’t finish. “Yes?” I asked, when the silence dragged on too long.

  “Nothing,” he said gruffly. “I’ll talk to you later. Are you back home?”

  “No, Alyssa is with me. We just finished our cocktails and we’re going to dinner.” I was having fun, but I would have preferred to be with him tonight. I almost said that, but I didn’t want to be that girl. The one who makes her guy feel guilty for having to work. I wouldn’t want him dishing that out to me.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re doing something. Okay, I gotta go.”

  We ended the call and I turned to Alyssa. “One of my clients was murdered. How crazy is that?”

  “What? Which one?”

  “Cezar Wozniak. The lake house out in Ashtabula County.”

  “Is that new? I don’t know that client.”

  “Yes, just this week. I went to the house for the first time today and now they’ve found his body in some abandoned warehouse.”

  “Holy crap.” Alyssa started toward the door. “Do you still want to go to dinner?”

  “Absolutely.” I didn’t want to go home alone. I had a strong feeling that Cezar would be showing up tonight wanting to chat, and I was hoping to avoid that until after I had a full stomach. “I never met Cezar. This is so weird to think that someone I’ve only talked to via phone and email is gone.”

  We stepped out onto the sidewalk. “So was Jake being a jerk about it or something?” she asked.

  I waved my hand, not really wanting to talk about it. “He just said it’s weird that I seem to be connected to a lot of murders lately. What, like I want this? I mean, I was in this guy’s house today. What if I was in danger?” I shuddered. “It’s not like I want any part of this.”

  Alyssa shook her head. “Maybe you should think about taking a break from dating Jake.”

  That surprised me. “What, why? I thought you were Team Marner.”

  “I was. But it seems like he can be judgmental of you.”

  I didn’t agree with that at all. He was actually very supportive and never gave me crap about anything. Except about Ryan. And that was just jealousy, for whatever reason. “He’s a good guy. He’s the most reasonable guy I’ve ever dated, actually.” The street was noisy for being a weekday. There were people everywhere, drawn out by the unseasonably warm weather. If the sun shines in Cleveland, you get your butt outside. It’s just a rule. “I am starving. Where are we going?”

  “I say Greenhouse Tavern. I want meat.”

  So did I. “Sounds good. By the way, I saw Nick Pitrello in court today. I don’t know what I was expecting, but he didn’t look remotely sorry. He looked amused.”

  “That’s because he’s a sociopath.” She shot me a worried look. “Are you okay?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll live.” That made me laugh. “No pun intended.”

  Chapter Four

  When I got home after destroying some pork, Cezar was sitting in my living room in his swim trunks, looking bored and anxious. He was biting the fingernails on his meaty hand. “Where have you been?” he asked, like he was my father and I was out past curfew. “I’ve been worried sick about you.”

  “It’s only nine o’clock, not four in the morning. Plus you don’t even know me,” I pointed out, dropping my handbag on the console table by my sofa.

  “You’re kind of the only person I know right now.” Cezar looked glum. He crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Being dead is crap.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said automatically. “But I have news for you. Your body was found in a warehouse on the east bank of the Flats. Or was it the west bank?” I suddenly doubted myself. “No, east. I think. Anyway, someone found your body and the cops are there now, so that’s good, right?”

  That sounded stupid but it was what he had wanted.

  He perked up at that information. “What? How do you know that?”

  “My boyfriend (okay, I was dropping that label quite freely now, wasn’t I?) is a homicide detective. He called me because my number was on your cellphone as a recent call.”

  I refused to admit I was the last call he had made, because that skeeved me out.

  Cezar’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, well, well. In bed with law enforcement, huh? I thought you said you didn’t have a boyfriend.”

  “I said it was complicated.”

  “Is he your boyfriend or not? Quit jerking me around, kid.”

  Why was he getting hostile with me? I kicked my adorable nude pumps off with a sigh of relief. That was a lot of walking today. “He’s basically my boyfriend, we’re a thing, whatever, but it’s really none of your business. Let’s focus here on what is important—you wanted me to find your body and I did, so let’s shake hands and you can move on to whatever is next for you.” And remove himself from my sofa, which was straining under his girth.

  “Finding the body is good. But where is the money? We need to get our hands on that. And I want to know who did this and why they would go to the trouble to move my body from my lake house forty miles away to a warehouse. What was the point if they knew I’d be found right away? It doesn’t sound like I was hidden.”

  I op
ened my mouth to give an opinion but he cut me off, sticking his finger out and shaking it. “I’ll tell you why. It’s a statement. A lesson. A warning. That’s how it works.”

  “It’s not a very good warning if no one knows what it means.”

  “The people it’s meant for know. This is a warning that you can’t get away with testifying against a colleague.”

  Colleague was an interesting choice of words. I would have said co-conspirator. Fellow thief. But whatever. “So this is about the trial, not the money?”

  “Probably.”

  “Well, that sucks that you were an example.” I massaged the back of my head, tired. “It’s been a long day. I’m going to bed. You can see yourself out, right?” Hint, hint, mega-hint.

  Cezar looked offended. “How can you sleep knowing I’m dead?”

  “Uh…” If the situation weren’t so macabre I would have laughed. “Why don’t you stop by tomorrow around two? I’m done with work for the day then.” I didn’t want him stopping by at all, but I knew he would, so I might as well establish parameters.

  “Ah.” He waved his hand at me angrily. “Go to bed. See if I care.”

  You didn’t have to ask me twice. “Great. Goodnight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere!” he called after me as I retreated up the stairs to my bedroom.

  “Go home, I’ll see you tomorrow!” I was getting frustrated. I didn’t want a total stranger sitting in my house all night. It was creepy, especially since he was dead.

  “You told me you would help me.”

  If he said that one more time, I was going to scream. This was why I was constantly on the fence about having children. They pestered you until they got what they wanted. Cezar was trying to wear me down and it was going to start working if I didn’t hotfoot it upstairs. Much preferable to screaming.

  But I did actually scream when after dozing on and off for several hours I woke up just after midnight to the sound of my phone vibrating. Groggy, I pried my eyes open and realized Cezar Wozniak was lying in bed next to me. He covered his ears as I let out a startled shriek and sat straight up, yanking the covers over my chest. I was in a tank top and shorts but I didn’t need him seeing me without a bra.

  “Zip it, Red. Can’t a guy have some peace and quiet to think?” he complained.

  Retrieving my heart from my throat, I took a deep breath. “What the actual hell are you doing? Get out of my bed.”

  Cezar was lolled out next to me, lit by the moonlight streaming through my skylights. He was thankfully on top of the comforter, not under it, so there was no risk of his dead body touching mine. But this also gave me an unparalleled view of him in a far too intimate setting. He was rolled onto his side, propping his head up over my pillow, his belly coming perilously close to me. I wished I could figure out a way to get him a ghostly T-shirt. I wasn’t asking for a lot, just an undershirt. It was like being on a cruise ship and the guy crammed up next to you in the elevator is in nothing but swim trunks. It’s just a bit awkward and far too personal. Added to the lack of clothing was the fact that he was in my bed and I was more than a little uncomfortable.

  “I’m making a point.”

  “What, that you’re the most annoying ghost on the planet?”

  “That I’m not going anywhere. We got work to do, kid.”

  My heart was still racing, but now mostly from anxiety, not fear. “I can’t do anything if I don’t get some sleep, and there is no way I’m sleeping with you next to me.”

  Cezar winked at me. “I won’t tell your boyfriend.”

  Gross. “He doesn’t believe in ghosts.”

  “No?” Cezar looked surprised. “So how do you explain your little woo-woo talent?”

  I shrugged, pushing my hair out of eyes. “I tried to once, but he was skeptical. So I keep it on the down-low.”

  “You have to be honest in a relationship.”

  “Thanks, Dr. Phil.” I was tired and cranky and the hushed darkness of my room should not be shared with Cezar Wozniak. This night could have ended so much better if Marner hadn’t gotten that stupid text calling him back to work. It made me vow to get revenge on Cezar’s killer, because not only had that man taken Mr. Wozniak’s life, he had totally inconvenienced mine.

  That should be Marner lying next to me, not Cezar’s spirit. There really was no comparison. On a scale of one to ten, one being awful and ten being super mega awesome, I imagined Marner was hovering around a nine. Cezar was whatever numeral one would ascribe to the confines of hell.

  “Don’t project onto me,” Cezar said. “I’m not the one lying to a cop. You are.”

  I eyed him. “You’ve never lied to a cop?”

  There was a pause. “We’re not talking about me here.”

  “We’re not talking about me either. We’re not talking at all. You being here is not cool.” My phone lit up in the dark room and I glanced over at it. It was a text from Marner. At this hour? I grabbed it.

  Body not Cezar Wozniak. Just a guy with Wozniak’s wallet. Let me know if Wozniak contacts you at all. Don’t respond to him without talking to me.

  Huh. This posed a moral dilemma. Did I tell Cezar, knowing he would keep me awake with further questions, or did I withhold the information until a more reasonable time of day? Not to mention until we were somewhere other than my bedroom. This was the most action this room had seen in ages, and that was really just the saddest thing ever.

  My conscience wouldn’t let me keep quiet though, damn it. I blamed my mother. She had a death stare that could guilt me into confessing all my mortal sins as a child. “It turns out that wasn’t your body in that warehouse. It’s someone else with your wallet.”

  Cezar sat up. “What? Damn it. What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. It would seem like the person who killed you would have your wallet, probably because he was robbing you, or he didn’t want your body readily identified. But then who killed him?”

  “Ask the cop who the stiff is.”

  “I’ll ask him tomorrow. He’s going to think it’s weird that I’m still awake if I respond now.”

  Cezar started singing a Britney Spears song. Off-key. About getting lost in the game. I wanted to stick my head in a blender to make it stop. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to get you to break.” He grinned at me. “I hear they use Britney Spears music to break terrorists.”

  I refused to hate on Britney. She would always be my jam. But in the middle of the night, coming from a half-naked mobster with excessive chest hair, it wasn’t working.

  “No. It’s not going to work.” I wasn’t giving in. One, I didn’t want Marner to think that I was awake in the middle of the night waiting for texts from him. Two, I had to set boundaries with Cezar.

  Thirty agonizing minutes later, the boundaries toppled like the Berlin Wall. I had tossed and turned, trying to plug my ears as he ran through a multitude of pop songs, and then through a caterwauling rendition of Whitney Houston’s greatest hits. I had put a pillow over my head until I was in danger of asphyxiation. I had attempted to go downstairs and sleep on the couch, but Cezar just followed me and perched on the edge. It was like having Santa the Mobster creeping on me. Horrifying. Exhausted and beaten down, I pressed my hand to my forehead, a headache pressing behind my eye sockets. “Please. Stop. I’ll do anything.”

  Cezar cut out mid-note on a Tom Jones song. “I like you, kid. Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll let you sleep, but I’m going to be back at eight. Then we need a plan of attack that involves you tracking down Big Eddie and getting the key to the storage unit.”

  “Sure. Fine.” I would have agreed to anything that involved him being quiet and me being allowed to sleep. I’m an eight hours a night kind of girl. I need my z’s in order to function and not be the world’s biggest crank. I had no desire to go seeking out someone named Big Eddie, but it was fast becoming apparent I didn’t have a choice. “But I have an appointment at eight-thirty and I’m not canceling.”
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  “That works for me. We just need a few minutes to figure out how to get this done.”

  What we were getting done I still wasn’t sure of, but I waved my hand and nodded my consent. I was too weary to speak.

  Cezar disappeared in that ghost way I was oddly getting used to. It wasn’t like a snap. It was a wavering dissipation. It happened quickly and I gave a sigh of relief. I decided to sleep on the couch because the flight of stairs seemed like Mount Everest at the moment, and I needed to wash my bedding before I slept in my bed again. Cezar may be a spirit with no actual physical form, but I still felt like he had sullied my sheets.

  I slept like the dead.

  Meaning, restless and agitated.

  * * *

  I was woken up by a voice whispering, “Wakey, wakey, eggs and bac-ey!” in my ear.

  Brushing the sound away, I groaned. But when I opened my eyes, it wasn’t Cezar serving as the world’s most annoying alarm clock, but Ryan. I could have hugged him, except that wouldn’t work because he was dead. “Oh my God,” I blurted. “Ryan! Where have you been?”

  After Cezar, seeing my old friend was like waking up on Christmas morning. I had gotten used to Ryan popping in and out at will, so when he had stopped coming around I had been worried about him. Also, compared to Cezar, he was easy on the eyes. Ryan had always been good-looking, with that rugged, manly man vibe. He had died in a flannel shirt, work boots, and jeans, and it had been his off-duty uniform in life, so it made sense in death.

  Ryan grinned. “I got caught up in a sweep. Told I was in violation of some code of conduct. It was bullshit, whatever. But I’m back, baby, and I’m better than ever.”

  “I missed you,” I told him truthfully, propping myself up to a sitting position with my elbow.

  “Whatever. You’ve been getting all hot and heavy with Marner. You don’t need me.”

  I let that slide, because we could go around and around on this. Ryan and I had the sort of friendship where we never saw to eye to eye on anything, but it never mattered. He had been the one to force me to lighten up and I had kept him on time. “Listen, there’s a ghost that is going to be showing up here at eight. He’s been harassing me to find his body. I think he has mob connections.” I wanted to get his advice before Cezar was there, bossing me around.