I Was Murdered Last Night (Olivia Brown Mysteries Book 1)

by A. J. Gallant

  Eva shook her head and her ponytail. “We're never gonna find it.”

  “Nope.”

  She wasn't sure how much time had passed after her nap, but it had been nice to shut her mind down for a while, though the dreams were odd, or were they visitations? The deer was in the bedroom, looking at her, and again wanted to be petted. The animal jumped on the bed, making her laugh. Not exactly wild animal behavior.

  Outside the cabin, she found Tim wrestling with a grizzly bear, though it was only a cub, even a full grown male wouldn't be able to hurt him now. One wasn't able to be deader than dead, and the thought made her shake her head, just surreal, no other word for it. Eventually, she would become accustomed to all of this. She joined Tim with the bear as the deer lay down to observe. Another deer appeared and the little one went off with it.

  Shelden walked around from the other side of the cabin, and they were abruptly aware of his presence; both turned and stared at him.

  “What do you want?” said Anita. “Why do you keep following me?”

  “I'm here to warn you to stay away from this guy. He's bad news.”

  Tim was genuinely puzzled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Shelden thought that Anita's gift might interfere with his brother's killing ways, that she was somehow going to meddle. It was his brother John who had killed her. He saw her meddling in dreams and didn't like it one bit. He also thought that if he could break these two up, it might change her path.

  Anita wasn't sure what to make of it, but it did give her pause. But what difference did it make here? “Tim, can you tell me why you won't go into the light?”

  Tim didn't want her to think differently about him, but he guessed it was time. “I had too much to drink one night, and I hit and killed an old woman. I wasn't much over the limit, but it was enough. I think about that night a lot, about her.”

  She nodded. “You never said you killed anyone.”

  He looked down. “I know, and I'm sorry. Have I ruined it for us?”

  A peculiar altering of events and Anita wasn't sure what to make of it. Shelden creeped her out, but Tim didn't, and she already felt close to him. “I don't know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  OLIVIA HAD MOVED ON TO ANOTHER CASE, a little depressed because she wasn't able to solve Anita's murder, but occasionally it worked out that way. Although she continued to collaborate on it somewhat with another detective, it reeked of a professional hit; she had her suspicions but nothing tangible. There were many shades of gray in life, and it was a big world when it came to evil people with money. Hit men were some of the worst, not to mention the people who hired them. Sometimes Olivia could go with her gut and would find a single solid lead that she was able to follow, but this time no bread crumbs led to the killer.

  The detective was in a run-down apartment, looking down at a woman in a pool of blood who was shot twice in the stomach and had bled out. The victim, in her thirties, could almost pass for fifty. Drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes had aged her horribly. Those cancer sticks could do a job on a young face and destroy a person's circulation as well. They already had the boyfriend in for questioning and it was likely him. The police had been at her apartment several times, though the last time it had been a different boyfriend. Jealousy was a possible motive. Olivia would need to question both of them. Some women always went for the nasty ones as though they wanted to suffer, or perhaps not feeling worthy of a good life. Or they wanted to look as if they were as tough as their mates. The new guy was bigger than the other and appeared to be even more unstable.

  The victim had a tattoo of a skull with a gun to its head on the back of her neck.

  There were signs of a struggle: the coffee table overturned, a Stephen King novel that had hit the wall with enough force to do damage to the corner of the cover. Coke residue was on a hardcover book on the kitchen table. They would dust it for prints. Two police officers of the traditional variety were ready to exit the scene when they saw something in the corner, and they looked at one another as if they'd seen something odd.

  The detective thought they had started acting strangely, and when she looked she saw Anita standing there. Could they see her? That would mean the spirit was a legitimate entity. No hallucinations. When Olivia turned to look at the officers again, they were leaving. She caught Officer Denton in the hall. “Hold up a minute.”

  “Detective.” He hoped she wasn't going to ask about what he thought she might be going to ask.

  “You see something in there, Denton?”

  “Saw a tragedy is what I saw.”

  “Cut the crap, Denton. You saw her too, didn't you? The spirit of a woman standing in the corner.”

  She saw her too. “Pardon me, Detective?” Denton was attempting to feign ignorance, but she could see it in his face. Not every day that one saw a ghost.

  Olivia was trying to figure out how she could get him to admit something that no one would, at least, not someone of a sound mind. “Thought I was losing my mind; this ghost keeps following me around. But if you saw her too?”

  Denton was stone-faced. He didn't know what to say or how to say it; best to just feign ignorance. “Pardon me?”

  Silence. A bit of a staring contest.

  “Just fucking nod if you saw her. I'm not going to ask you to say it in court for fuck sakes.”

  And there it was, the slightest of nods, affirmation that she was not losing her mind. The officer turned and couldn't wait to get out of there, and hoped they weren't both losing their minds.

  Olivia felt like screaming was that so fucking hard?

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ANITA TOOK IN THE VIEW from the top of Mount Marcy in New York, appreciating the beauty of nature. She was supposed to spend some time here but, unfortunately, never made it, at least not while she was still breathing. Anita wished herself on the mountain and abruptly she was enjoying the view, over five thousand feet high, green rolling hills below her. No mountains in Florida. Britton Hill is the highest point in the Sunshine State at only three hundred and forty-five feet, just a half a mile south of the Alabama border. Anita had planned to take the Van Hovenberg Trail to the peak, but no need for that now.

  When she felt strong enough, she would visit her family. But Anita had what she thought might be a glitch in her chemical makeup; she couldn't stand to see anyone cry. A lot of people were like that but not like her; it always set her into a depression. She guessed that everyone had something weird about them.

  Death was mysterious, and she might be part of the universe's energy now. Anita still had much to learn. Heaven's pull was exceedingly strong at times, and yet she wasn't able to walk into the light. Talk about mixed signals. Her life and death had taken the strangest of turns.

  The wind was fresh as she observed a bald eagle flying over. It seemed to notice her, but she couldn't be sure, though she did think it looked directly at her. She waved both arms to get its attention and then it came down for a closer look, so it was able to see her. What would happen if she wished to be on Mars? Maybe she could check out the rover Curiosity and the landscape? How cool would that be, standing on another planet? An intriguing notion but what if she couldn't get back? Anita supposed there was no reason she wouldn't be able to return if she got there but who knows. If there were rules after death, no one had told her about them. No one had told her much of anything.

  There was an Inukshuk here, a human figure built out of rocks. It was about three feet high, with the corner of a white piece of paper protruding from between two of its rocks. A message for someone? A love note? It seemed to her that an Inukshuk was an Eskimo thing, but just about anyone would be able to build one. It was just a way of saying that someone had been here. She sat and looked at it, wanted to hit it with a pebble but couldn't, and remembered seeing another Inukshuk on a beach in Canada. Both frustrating and odd that she couldn't move anything in the physical world.

  The paper between the rocks was enveloped in plastic to
protect it from the elements. Had someone been enticed to climb up here to read it, but hadn't made it yet? The corner of it stuck out about an inch, and she repeatedly attempted to grab it. Ten, eleven, twelve times she tried. With her last two attempts, Anita thought she had felt the plastic. Maybe.

  Beautiful up here. Dad should be up here with me. Or Curt. Not in this form but alive and breathing. Hard to believe I'm dead, but I guess it's about time that I did. With all the people who have died you'd think there would be a lot of people here, but nope, only me. Well, I don't have to worry about falling even though it is still scary.

  Anita felt like a cat near a mouse in a hole in the wall; she was desperate to get what was out of her reach. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it also frustrated the spirit. Why was her desire so strong for a message to someone else? She wanted it to be a love note, something so romantic that it would make her heart melt. And again it felt like she was touching it but unable to remove it. The heft of the rocks was quite a challenge to a spirit.

  Time to forget about the stupid note, try to check in on her father and see how he was doing. Anita wasn't a child and she needed to be strong about it, suck it up. Pull up her britches and get on with it, as her father would say. Deal with the here and now. And so she concentrated on him and found herself on the steps of the funeral home. Her father was crying and couldn't even go inside, supported by two men she didn't even know, distant cousins perhaps. Family shouldn't wait for a funeral to get together. And that was enough for her as she went back to the mountain, where she started to sob.

  Anita took some quiet time and some deep breaths and finally calmed down. She didn't need to breathe, but it appeared as if she were still trying, an automatic thing when one was alive. There was no need to cry because she was okay, and Anita felt better now that she had returned to the mountain. It was surreal, knowing her body had been in there, in a coffin. Her state of sadness dissipated a lot faster than it would have back on Earth. She no longer had the desire to go back, at least not now.

  A beautiful Blue Morpho butterfly fluttered in front of her. She could see through it and so guessed that it might have followed her here and that, like her, it was deceased. Anita lifted her hand and it landed on the back of it. Had the insect been sent to put her in a lighter mood perhaps? But sent by who? Now she could see another one coming and then another, dozens and then hundreds, making her giggle, and all of the same variety. Now Anita was surrounded by a cloud of butterflies, her silhouette barely visible from inside the kaleidoscope.

  And then when her mood was sufficiently lightened they all vanished.

  “Hello.”

  Startled, Anita jumped. “You almost scared me to death.”

  “Not possible,” said the fellow in the top hat.

  “You!”

  “Anita, my name is Cuthbert Alexander Dorset. You have some questions, and I have some answers. Oh, and you wanted to see this?” He pulled out the note from between the rocks and showed it to her. Had there been anyone else around it would have looked like it was floating in the air. She read the note.

  If you've come this far,

  How much farther will you go?

  She nodded, a little disappointed, as she would have preferred a love note. Ghosts could manipulate things in the physical world. Finally, someone to talk to who has answers. “Why do you keep pulling me here and there? Like on the golf course? You took me there, didn't you?”

  “The bald man and the other one are the two who killed you. Raised with violence, and now that's all they know. They kill for money.”

  She recalled their faces from the green, and they weren't at all familiar. Anita was still unable to remember. “But, but, but I've never seen them before. Why would they want to kill me?”

  “They were strangers to you as you were to them. Paid to kill you. They took the wrong path long ago, and hell awaits the both of them. That will be punishment enough for all the trespasses that they've done.”

  “Paid to kill me? Why?”

  “In the scheme of things the why doesn't matter. You have more important things with which to concern yourself.”

  It's important to me why they killed me. Someone being paid to murder me doesn't make any sense. Does this guy know what he's talking about? “Why can't I go into the light?”

  “If you enter heaven you won't want to come back here.” Cuthbert seemed to have a genuine smile. He went through her and she had a brief glimpse, and how wonderful it was.

  “And?”

  “And we need you. We don't usually interfere with free will, but there is the occasional exception.” Cuthbert nodded and looked troubled. “There is too much evil, and significant people are killed before they can share their talents with the world.”

  Anita's eyebrows tightened. “I'm not sure what you are getting at. You need me to do what exactly?”

  “You have a God-given talent, as they say, and you will be able to communicate with Olivia Brown better and better as time goes on.”

  Anita was puzzled. “Who's Olivia Brown?”

  “She was the one on the sofa. The detective who's trying to solve your murder.” Cuthbert looked around, enjoying the sights. “Beautiful here. God has given us much to appreciate being alive.”

  Anita was trying to process what he was saying. She was in need of answers, not vague statements. “So let's see if I have this right. I have to help the detective solve my murder?”

  “No. That is of no consequence now. The more time you spend in the presence of Olivia Brown, the better and stronger the connection will be. And you are going to need her, and she is going to need you for the task at hand.”

  At least solving my murder would have made sense. But what is this bozo getting at? I guess I shouldn't think like that. Will I eventually be able to communicate with the detective? Help her solve cases? I've no interest in doing that. Although getting murderers off the street is worthwhile. Maybe even fun, now that I think about it. Would be satisfying to give her killer a good swift kick in the ass.

  Cuthbert smiled and nodded. “This bozo can read your thoughts.”

  “Can everyone read each other's thoughts?”

  “No.”

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you a bozo. So I'll help her solve cases and never get into heaven? That's not much of a deal.”

  “The detective is not going to live forever, is she? That is all you need to know for now, young lady. I'll let you think about what I've said. Give the stew time to cook.” And suddenly he was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  OLIVIA ENTERED POPEYE'S RESTAURANT, making her way through the line, and immediately saw Felicia eating some delicious-looking chicken and fries. She waved to Olivia, who joined her in the booth.

  Felicia wiped her mouth before she spoke. “I overheard something disturbing from Porter as I walked past his office yesterday. I wasn't going to say anything. Nothing to do with Anita but, boy, what they are doing is so illegal.”

  Olivia stole one of her fries and then another, a bold move but the chicken was making her hungry. She didn't dare grab a piece of chicken. “You did the right thing to call. Tell me.”

  Felicia shook the hair out of her eyes. She couldn't afford for the firm to be shut down, but that's where it was heading if someone ever talked, and sooner or later they always did. She was struggling with her decision and the more she considered it, the more it seemed like a bad idea. But how could she get away without telling Olivia now that she was here? Abruptly, she looked as if she had seen a ghost.

  Porter entered the restaurant and got in line, and when Olivia turned to see what had spooked Felicia, she saw him. He gave a little wave and then turned away. It could be a coincidence, but the detective didn't think so. Likely intimidation on the lawyer's part.

  “Felicia, do you think he's following you?”

  Felicia stopped eating. “I don't think so, but Porter never gave me the creeps until just now. Are you getting any closer to catching Ani
ta's killer?”

  Olivia sat beside Felicia and looked at him, but he never glanced back. “This one might be a tough nut to crack.”

  “He's always been business-like towards me, a little stern at times. I never thought he would do what he's doing.”

  A black man in a black suit was sitting behind them, facing in the opposite direction. He got up and went over to Porter and greeted him loudly. The detective realized he could have heard every single thing they'd said. Felicia grasped the same possibility, and it didn't at all sit well. Olivia quickly scribbled a note and gave it to Felicia, and as she left the detective noticed both Porter and the other man glancing in her direction. Olivia remained at the table to make sure they didn't follow her.

  The note gave Felicia another location for a meeting directly, to go to Lombardi's on Spring Street and wait for her. Felicia had changed her mind about telling the detective anything, but now she had changed it back. Porter had spooked her at Popeye's.

  Inside Lombardi's, Felicia was being served the pizza she had ordered.

  “I don't know what to do. I went to Popeye's with the intention of telling you what I heard, but now I'm unsure again. If he's having me followed, I might be in danger.” Felicia finished her slice of pizza and started another.

  Olivia was loving this coal-fired Neapolitan pizza. She finished a slice and commenced on another.

  “Felicia, if you think what you have to tell me can help me catch whoever killed Anita, you need to tell me what you know.” She took a drink of her soda as she considered her next words. “But it looks like you're already in their crosshairs. I'm not saying that they're gonna kill you, but it is something you need to think about.”

  Felicia sighed. “No, no. This is totally unrelated to Anita's death, I think. I overheard Foster talking about paying off a so-called witness to give false testimony to get off one of his wealthy clients. I was walking by and lingered just out of sight.”