by Gwen Gardner
“So,” said Cappy around a bite of his cheese and tomato sandwich, “what do you want me to do?”
I swallowed a bite of ham and swiss. “First, tell us everything you know about Billy and Ralph Radcliffe.”
“All right,” said Cappy. “They’re small-time crooks. Billy ‘as a legit job as a mechanic – they say ‘e’s pretty good. But I ‘appen to know he does other stuff on the side.”
“Like what?” asked Badger, finishing his sandwich and leaning back on the bench.
Simon took notes as Cappy spoke.
“’e’s a thief. ‘e keeps the shopkeepers busy while Ralph steals them blind. Then they flog the stuff.” He brushed the crumbs from his hands and continued. “Course, Billy has ‘is brother do the thieving so ‘e don’t get busted for nuthin’. Ralph, ‘e don’t ‘ave no job, ‘e’s not too bright, that one.”
“Anything else?” Simon’s writing hand paused over the board as he glanced up.
“Well, I asked ‘round, after last night an’ all.” He held up his hands when I started to protest. “I was discreet, don’t worry. As I was sayin’,” he began, “I discreetly checked ‘round, and turns out, ‘e disguises cars, too.”
“Huh?” I said. My confusion was mirrored on the other’s faces.
“I mean,” said Cappy, “that ‘e takes stolen cars from people, paints them, makes other modifications, shows them how to file the VIN number off so ‘e don’t get ‘is own ‘ands dirty, and then gives the car back - for a fee.”
“So nothing can be proved against him if he gets caught,” added Riley.
“That’s right, luv,” said Cappy, winking at Riley. Her flat-eyed stare revealed her displeasure at the over-familiar euphemism.
“Knock it off, Cappy,” I admonished. What we didn’t need was for Badger or Simon to sock him one for being disrespectful.
“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “No offense intended.”
Badger continued with the conversation. “All he has to do is insist on a phony customer name – no reason to ask for identification – paint the car for a small fee, and write it up as a more expensive repair.”
“And then,” I put in, “the customer turns around and sells the car at a much higher price.” I was catching on.
“Yes, but he won’t have the paper trail,” said Simon practically. “If he somehow gets caught, he won’t have receipts for the items he installed in the car – say, a transmission – and the car won’t have the new transmission installed, which can easily be proved.”
“Unless,” said Cappy, “‘e’s written it up as a used transmission. And receipts are easy to come by. Pass some lolly across the parts-man’s palms and Bob’s-your-uncle.”
“Okay. Did you find out anything else?” I asked. “Like, is he violent?”
“‘e’s been in a few bust-ups, but nothing serious,” answered Cappy. “’e don’t like getting’ ‘is ‘ands dirty, like I said.” He grinned at the pun.
Yeah, yeah, I got it – a mechanic who didn’t like to get his hands dirty.
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“I’ve got me sources now, don’t I?” said Cappy. “And you’ll ‘preciate that I ‘ave to protect them, right? Trust me.”
Badger, Simon and Riley eyed him warily.
“I trust you. Thank you for the information. The question now is, what do we do with it?” I asked.
“Obviously they were following for a reason,” said Simon. “Word got around pretty quickly that we were asking questions.”
“They were hired by someone,” said Badger. He turned to Riley. “Did you notice any strangers hanging around acting suspicious?”
Riley shook her head. “No. But strangers come into the pub all the time, especially during the holidays, so I might not notice anyway.”
“Well, from here on out, we all need to be especially careful,” I said. “We need to have eyes in the backs of our heads.”
They all nodded in agreement.
“So here is where Cappy comes in.” I turned to Cappy. “You’re known in the area where Billy and Ralph hang out, so you wouldn’t necessarily stand out like we would.”
Cappy nodded his understanding. “What am I looking for?”
“Take note of where they go, what they buy, who comes to their house, to the business, who Billy’s customers are, where they’re hanging out. We especially want to know who they’re talking to, particularly Billy.”
“That works fine as long as they’re together,” said Cappy. “And obviously I can’t watch them 24/7. I’ll ‘ave to get my gang to help.” He held his hand up when the others began to object. “I don’t ‘ave to tell them why. They’re loyal.”
Footsteps echoing down the passage toward the snug brought us up short...
Chapter Thirteen
Close Call
“Quickly, stuff the folder in your bag, Simon, someone’s coming,” I said. Simon stuffed the tube containing the murder map under the bench as Badger and Riley’s mom Claire appeared in the doorway.
Her pale face revealed that something was terribly wrong. My conscience stung with the inability to divulge what I knew. But telling Claire about my ghost whispering abilities and that I had spoken to her husband was not an option.
“Badger – Riley,” she said, looking to each of them. “The police are here. I...I need to speak to you. They say...” She choked up, swallowing back the tears that sprang to her blue eyes. Riley looked so much like her, they could have been sisters, with their svelte good looks and sense of style.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “We’ll go so you can talk.” Grabbing my jacket, and with Simon and Cappy behind me, we left the snug.
“What about the murder board,” Simon whispered as we headed down the wobbly hallway.
“It will be okay. Badger or Riley will get it,” I whispered back, holding up crossed fingers. We bundled up against the cold and headed home. Cappy traipsed off in the opposite direction.
We walked along the damp, cobblestoned road, taking cover from the weather by sticking as close to the buildings as possible. The jettied half-timber beams leaned in to cast ancient shadows over us. Muted light shone from closed curtains, silhouettes passed back and forth behind them like shadow puppets. We didn’t have anything like this in the States. There was even a castle. The ancient architecture was a marvel, the same buildings standing upright in the same spot for hundreds of years. Nearly upright, anyway, because many leaned. I guessed that the sameness, or lack of change, must have been what kept so much of the spirit world tied there.
I kept looking over my shoulder. Living in a medieval village made it hard for me to distinguish if the tingling at the base of my skull was a sign of psychic intuition or a spectral presence. In any case, I sensed that someone, living or dead, followed us. Shivering, I pulled the lapels of my pea coat up toward my face, and looked back again.
Simon looked back as well. “What is it?” he whispered.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
But it didn’t take either of us long to figure out we were being stalked by a living amateur. Footsteps echoed behind us, the tiptoe-running kind that took the opportunity to make up ground when our backs were turned.
It had to be Billy. Still, we were near home and Simon and I could outrun Billy Radcliffe any day.
I was glad we didn’t have to.
I gathered extra bedding and made up the spare bedrooms. Luckily a big Victorian house had plenty of extra rooms. I was pretty sure we were going to have overnight company.
I wasn’t wrong.
Uncle Richard came home late and entered through the back door. After hanging his overcoat on a peg, he loosened his tie and sighed.
He looked completely knackered. I jumped out of my armchair and headed to the refrigerator. “Why don’t you sit – I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Thank you. That sounds like heaven.” He draped his suit jacket over the back of a chair and sat at the table, where Simon joine
d him. An awkward silence ensued. I heated grilled chicken breast in the microwave and set a tomato salad in front of him. The way he dug in, I was sure he hadn’t eaten all day. Two minutes later the timer chimed and I cut up the chicken into bite-sized pieces and spread it over his salad and joined them at the table.
“How was your day?” I asked, watching him eat. Okay, I stared, wide-eyed like an owl, elbows on table and chin resting between hands. I couldn’t help myself. He was my dad’s twin – identical twin, I should say. The same dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. Simon and I didn’t see him much, so when we did, I stared my fill. I may have creeped him out.
“Long. Hard.” He swallowed and wiped his mouth on a paper towel. He looked at Simon. “They found Bart’s body.” He took another bite. “The Bagley’s are on their way over now. They’ll be spending a few days while forensics goes over their flat. They suspect foul play.”
“Yeah, we figured something was up,” said Simon, glancing surreptitiously at me. “We were there when Clair came in for Badger and Riley.”
Our kitchen was busy as Victoria Station at rush hour on Thursday morning. Of course, Uncle Richard passed through quickly, as always. He and Claire poured coffee on their way out the door.
Harry, grabbing the doorjamb before Claire could usher him out, stuck his head back in and asked, “Where’s your Christmas tree, Indigo?”
“Yeah,” added Henry. “And the presents?”
“Well...” I began. “I, uh...” I looked at Simon, who only shrugged.
“We’re getting it this weekend,” said Uncle Richard, coming to my rescue. He avoided eye contact.
I hadn’t really thought about Christmas. At least, I tried not to think about it, other than something I had to get through. It was obvious that our family, such as it was, didn’t feel much like celebrating.
Claire smiled weakly and ushered the boys out the door. Children always looked forward to Christmas, it seemed, whatever the circumstances.
Uncle Richard gave Claire a lift to work, and dropped Harry and Henry off at a friend’s house on the way. Police forensics had Claire’s car.
With two adults and two children out the door, the chaos became more manageable. Riley had to work later, but Badger and Simon had the day off, so we sat around the table eating bagels and drinking coffee and tea. The fireplace radiated heat into the chilly room.
“Did anyone think to get the investigation board?” I asked, holding a hand over my yawning mouth. I didn’t sleep well. Spirit activity seemed to be especially high, but with company in the house, I didn’t think sleeping in the kitchen was an option. Plus, after repacking all my things, that stubborn spirit unpacked, again. So I repacked them, again. By now, it was the principle of the thing. I would unpack when I was ready. One day I would catch that interfering ghost in the process and go all ghost-buster on her.
“I have it,” said Riley. “Nobody was paying much attention. They just wanted to make sure we weren’t taking anything out of the flat. I imagine they’ll think of searching the pub at some point.” She rolled her puffy blue eyes. But she was right. Bart was last seen at the pub. Common sense said they’d have searched there first.
“Good,” said Simon. “We wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”
“What’s the plan for today,” I asked, leaning back in my chair, sipping coffee.
“We talk to Andy Hall,” said Badger. “He was dad’s friend and coworker. If anyone can shed light on what was happening in his world, it would be Andy.” Badger’s face was drawn, the skin tight over his cheekbones.
Self-conscious about wearing yesterday’s braid, with strands and wisps escaping haphazardly, I smoothed my hair down the best I could, glancing sideways at Badger. It couldn’t be helped. Coffee came first. Always. Then I would try to look good for, er, the interview. That’s right, the interview.
I looked around the table. Every face was drawn and haggard. We were a ragtag group, for sure. With a common goal. But would solving this murder make any of us feel better? Would Simon’s guilt be absolved? Would mine?
Badger, Simon and I walked the five blocks and took the elevator to the fifth floor of Shoreline Construction, stopping at the desk to ask for Andy.
Heated from the walk and the warmth of the lobby, I unwound the thick scarf from my neck. An aquarium lined one wall, and the room was tastefully decorated. The receptionist wore a pink suit with pearls and eyed us like she was the gatekeeper of the Emerald City and might not let us through. We were underdressed in jeans and boots, but she reluctantly filled out our visitors passes anyway, stamping, Must Be Escorted, quite loudly while eyeing us with suspicion.
“She’s new here,” Badger whispered.
Andy came from down the hall, extending his arm to shake Badger’s hand.
“Badger!” he said, “It’s great to see you, come on back.”
“Hi Andy, these are my friends, Simon and Indigo. You’ve probably met Simon – his dad is Richard Eady. And Indigo is his cousin.”
“Yes, of course,” said Andy. “I remember you. I’ve worked with your dad a couple of times, too. Great guy.”
Simon smiled politely and shook hands, but I waved my bandaged hand as a greeting. Andy led the way down a series of white hallways lined with pastel flower paintings. A few people said hello or waved to Badger.
Andy had a corner office with full-length windows and an incredible view overlooking Sabrina Park.
I’m sure I was gaping, because Andy came and stood next to me. He jiggled the change in his pockets, surveying the view. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“It’s remarkable.” The gorgeous park, from this height, revealed the impressive panorama. An island in the middle of the Sabrina, eight footbridges connected the two sides of the river. Meandering paths wound through rich green grass and trees, while the river flowed around it.
It included an amphitheater, soccer and cricket fields, and boat rental huts. All were closed for the winter, but it must be awesome during the summer. I longed for warmth and normal things like that. A flame of hope filled my chest briefly, but flickered out when I turned back into the room. Normalcy was a rare commodity for me.
Like Bart’s home office, a big desk sat in the center, with a drafting table near one of the windows. But there the similarity ended. The view was rather spoiled by the interior. Every available surface was covered with stacks of paper and other debris; empty coffee mugs, empty paper cups, fast food bags and occasionally, a waft of rotting food. The room was completely at odds with Andy’s appearance, which was neat in business casual clothing, and clean cut brown hair.
Andy hastily cleared seats for us, apologizing for the mess. “Sorry about this. I don’t allow the cleaning service in here. They always seem to lose or throw something away that they shouldn’t.” He indicated we should sit and seated himself behind his desk. “So, what can I do for you? Have you heard from your dad?” He leaned forward, hands folded, elbows on his desk.
Badger leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. “The police have found his body,” he began. “They notified us last night.” Clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, he crossed his right ankle over to rest on the opposite knee, then uncrossed and switched sides.
Andy’s blue eyes widened and he looked momentarily stunned, but he recovered quickly. “Wow. Not what I was expecting to hear.” He blew out his breath as if he’d been holding it. “Man, I am so sorry. What happened? Where’d they find him?”
Badger struggled to compose himself, so Simon answered for him. “His body was hung up on branches in the river.”
“So he drowned, then?”
“No,” answered Simon. “The back of his head was crushed and it looks like foul play, according to the investigators.”
“What? I thought...” began Andy, but he didn’t finish. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed the back of his neck and then ran fingers through his hair. He shook his head again, leaning fo
rward.
“What did you think?” I asked him. “Because,” I glanced at Badger and back again, “his family is trying to understand what happened - what might have been going on in his life that they might not have known about. And since you were his friend...” I shrugged, letting the sentence hang.
“Look, Badger, we don’t need to discuss this,” said Andy, “There were rumors, you know the sort of thing people gossip about.”
Badger leaned forward in earnest. “Andy, he was my father. He’s dead - that’s why I’m here. I want to know what was going on in his life before he died. Did he confide anything to you?”
“No, we had lunch before he disappeared, discussed a few projects. That’s all.”
Badger perked up. “What projects? What was he working on?”
“A few small things. A new gazebo in the park. Upgrades on Sabrina Castle, cobblestone repairs on the more high-traffic areas. It’s been kind of slow.”
“Was he having problems with anyone? Did he have enemies? If you know anything, even rumors, I want to know,” pleaded Badger.
Andy sighed. “Okay. I heard a rumor that he was having a fling with Shelly. When they disappeared at the same time, I assumed...you know - they were together.” He shrugged.
“I’m aware of that rumor,” said Badger. “But I don’t believe it.” He pinned Andy with a piercing gaze. “Why do you believe it? Is there any proof? Did you see anything in particular? Do you know for sure?” Sometimes Badger can be intense. Like right then.
“Whoa,” said Andy, “slow down. Look, when people spend a fair amount of time together, they sometimes grow close. Your dad and Shelly spent a great deal of time together. It doesn’t mean he didn’t love your mom, or you kids. Sometimes, when men get to a certain age...” he faltered. “Hell, men have needs, you know? And Shelly was attractive.”
Andy squirmed. That had not been an easy thing to say to the son of a dead man. And Badger’s intent gaze pinning him to the chair hadn’t made it any easier.
