Uncharted Territory (An Angela Panther Mystery Book 3)

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  "Yeah, lemme know if you can stomach them because I couldn't."

  "Why not? Too sugary?"

  "Too much of a puke fest reminder."

  "Oh."

  "I think they're ruined for me forever now."

  "That sucks but hey, more for me."

  "If you can eat them, go for it."

  "I can. My gut knows no boundaries." She pulled a scone from the bag and stuffed half of it into her mouth. "Thesf arf likef crackf." Little bits of scone dropped from her mouth and landed on her lap. She pressed on them with her finger to grab them and then licked them off the tip.

  "Gross."

  "What? The fact that I'm able to eat them or the fact that you're a germaphobe and can't stand that I ate crumbs off of my own body?"

  "Yes."

  "Peri-menopause is making you super cranky. Glad I'm not going through that for another ten years or so."

  "Dream on babe. You're already starting, I can tell," I said.

  "Am not."

  "Are too."

  "Not."

  "Too."

  "Ah Madone, you two act like three-year-olds," Ma said, popping into the backseat. "You're givin' me a doozy of a headache."

  I tilted my head toward the backseat. "Ma says we're giving her a headache acting like three-year-olds."

  "Ghosts get headaches?" Mel asked.

  "We don't get sick," Ma said. "But you two got a way of makin' stuff happen, I guess."

  "Apparently we have a gift because ghosts don't get sick."

  "Well, we are awesome."

  "Truth."

  Mel burped. "Oh, excuse me." She burped again and pressed her hand into her chest. "I'm not feeling well all of a sudden."

  "That's 'cause she's knocked up," Ma said.

  "I highly doubt that."

  "What'd she say?" Mel asked.

  "That you're pregnant."

  Mel snorted. "Yes and Vinnie the Vibrator is my baby daddy."

  "I was thinkin' one a them aliens from the old folks home did it," Ma said.

  That time I snorted.

  "I think I'm gonna puke," Mel said, rolling down her window. "Pull over."

  "Apparently your stomach does have boundaries."

  She growled, "Pull over."

  "Seriously?"

  "Seriously."

  So I did.

  Mel jumped out of the car. I didn't want a replay of the day before so I turned up the volume on the radio and kept my head down. She got back in the car and wiped her mouth with a napkin from Starbucks.

  "You okay?"

  "Yeah, but I think you're right, it's the scones. They're ruined for me now, too."

  I pulled back onto the road. "Maybe we need to switch to muffins."

  "Worth a shot," she said.

  "I still think she's preggers," Ma said. "Maybe she's havin' the Baby Jesus. How do you say Baby Jesus in Asian?"

  "Mother."

  "I think it's something like赤ちゃんイエス, but I'm not sure. That's Japanese though. What kinda Asian is she anyway?"

  As far as I knew, my mother spoke English and some Italian that consisted mostly of threats and swear words. "You just made that up."

  "Why would I make it up?"

  "Seriously?"

  "I can speak any language now. It's part of my spirit guide training. If you're gonna be a spirit guide, you gotta be able to speak all the languages. What if I got one of them Urduian types and couldn't speak Urdu? Be kinda hard to help them if they couldn't understand me."

  "Urduian? Urdu?"

  "All's I'm sayin' is I can wind up bein' a guide to anyone from anywhere in the world, so I gotta know how to communicate with all kinds a people."

  "But you don't physically speak to them as a spirit guide, so why does it matter?"

  "Because if I don't speak their language, how'm I gonna know what they're thinkin'?"

  I couldn't argue with that. "Feeling any better?" I asked Mel.

  "A little. Can we get a Seven Up or something somewhere? I need to settle my stomach."

  "Absolutely."

  "Was your mother really speaking a foreign language?"

  "According to her, yes."

  "Móðir þín er ekki ljúga," Ma said.

  "I didn't hear that," I said.

  "Party pooper," Ma said.

  "She's talking to you in a foreign language, isn't she?" Mel asked.

  "Yup. Show off."

  "I love your mother."

  "I think you've mentioned that a time or two."

  I pulled into a gas station and got Mel a Seven Up.

  "You want me to take you home? We can do this another time."

  "No, I'm good." She sipped her soda. "I'm feeling better now."

  I made my way to the highway. "Any new dating prospects from Match.com or the other sites?"

  "Only about fifty an hour."

  "Seriously?"

  She nodded. "I had to delete the apps from my phone because it was overheating from all the notifications."

  "Sucks to be so popular, huh?"

  "It's because I'm Asian."

  "Well, most Asian women are beautiful, so I can understand the appeal."

  "It's not because they're beautiful. It's because men think Asian women are ho bags."

  "No they don't. Do they?"

  "If I'm lyin', I'm dyin'."

  "Why would they think that?"

  "There are a lot of Korean prostitutes in America. I read about it recently. Something about a Korean-US Visa waiver, I think. So I guess since people think all Asians look alike, men think all Asian women are ho's, too."

  "Wow."

  "Yup. Last night I got invited to a party at a bar in Midtown. And by invited I mean he asked me what I'd charge to attend."

  "Ouch."

  "Pretty much. Oh, and I got an offer to meet a guy in the Walmart parking lot."

  "For sex?"

  "Actually no, for a first date. He needed to buy underwear and thought my sexy Asian eyes could help him find the perfect kind."

  "Oh my."

  "Even offered to model them for me."

  "So when's the date?"

  She flipped her head my direction. "When pigs fly."

  "Whatcha talkin' 'bout?" Ma asked.

  "I'm beginning to think it'll be easier to hit on men in bars," Mel said.

  "Oh, yuck."

  "What's this match dot com thingamajig?" Ma asked again.

  "It's an online dating site," I said. "Mel's signed up so she can view potential dates and maybe go out with a few of them."

  "Huh? I thought she was gonna do the big nasty with that cranky detective?"

  I swallowed loudly. "They're going on a date. They're not having sex." My eyes shifted to Mel. "You are still planning to go out with Aaron, right?"

  She nodded. "As long as you're okay with it, yup."

  "Yes, I'm okay with it. There's gotta be some reasonably attractive guys on one of those sites. I hear of people who met on them getting married all the time."

  "Are they wearin' clothes?" Ma asked. "If they're naked then at least she can see if they got a big enough pecker before goin' out with 'em. She's too old to be wasting her time on all that courtin' stuff."

  "Seriously, Ma?"

  "What?" Mel asked.

  "She suggests you check out their penis size before committing to a date."

  She nodded. "That's a good point, Fran. Thanks."

  "Good grief," I said. "Don't encourage her."

  "It doesn't matter anyway. Let me just say the pickings on this end of the dating pool are pretty slim."

  "I'll check again. Maybe you need an unbiased opinion."

  "Me too," Ma said. "Sounds like one of them porn sites your cousin's always on."

  "I'm so not touchin' that one," I said.

  "That means I definitely want you to repeat it," Mel said.

  "She thinks you're watching porn."

  Mel angled toward the backseat. "You been spying on me, Fran?"

  "No
, but I'm gonna start."

  I relayed the message and we all laughed.

  It had to be hard for Mel. Suddenly single and starting all over again. I didn't envy her at all. "You're a beautiful, smart, funny, and all around amazing person, Mel. You'll find someone and have your happily ever after. I know you will."

  "First she's gonna have to suck face with a bunch a frogs but it'll happen," Ma said.

  "Even Ma says you'll find someone."

  "That's not exactly what I said."

  "In fact, she said it'll be sooner rather than later."

  "She did?" Mel asked.

  "Ah Madone, no, I didn't. Don't you go puttin' lies in my mouth."

  "Can I finish my conversation with my best friend without you adding your two cents, please?"

  "So rude."

  "I didn't mean—" But I didn't finish because my mother shimmered away. "What were we talking about?" I asked Mel.

  "Your mother said I'll find my happily ever after."

  "She did. And you will."

  "If I do, I do. If I don't, I've always got Vinnie the Vibrator."

  "At least he doesn't hog the covers."

  "Or ask me to get him a beer."

  "Or fart."

  "Or cheat on me with younger Asian women."

  "Damn straight."

  ***

  I parked the car at the end of the Starks' street and Mel and I stared down the road, contemplating our next move.

  "This is kind of déjà vu, huh?" she asked.

  "Yup."

  "What if they're home and in the process of cleaning up the present we left?"

  "I'd feel horrible," I said.

  "Me, too. Should we offer to help?"

  "That might imply guilt on our part."

  "Yes, because we are guilty."

  "Yes, but they don't know that. Besides, have you ever cleaned up day-old puke?"

  "No."

  "Me either and I'm pretty sure I don't want to."

  "I'm gonna have to agree with you on that," she said. "The likelihood of them being home and cleaning it at the very moment we knock on the door is pretty slim anyway, don't you think?"

  "Let's hope."

  "So what's the plan?"

  "Same as yesterday except this time we ring the doorbell. If no one answers, we turn around and go home. No harm, no foul."

  "That works. You ready?"

  "Yup. Let's roll."

  We walked up the street and onto their front porch. Mel stuck her nose to the door. "I can't smell anything."

  I rang the doorbell but no one answered.

  "Do these people ever come home?" Mel asked.

  "Maybe they ran away when the cat died. Let's get outta here. We'll have to figure out something else."

  We didn't get ten feet from the driveway when a car pulled over and parked right in front of us. A man got out and I knew right away he was a cop. He wasn't in uniform, but his stature gave him away. So did the big gun on the side of his belt.

  "Afternoon, ladies. Something I can help you with?"

  Mel's eyes were like fried eggs with black yolks. "Nope, we're good." She moved to the side and kept walking.

  He followed behind us. "Got a call from a concerned citizen about some peeping Toms at the Stark house yesterday. Said they were on the back deck, peering in the windows and then watched them walk right on in through the backdoor."

  We picked up our pace.

  "You two know anything about that?"

  We didn't respond, our lips zipped tighter than our Gloria Vanderbilt jeans during high school.

  "Thing is, the Starks are out of town this week, so I don't think they were expecting any visitors."

  Beads of sweat formed on my forehead.

  "Neighbor said it was two women they saw yesterday. Thought one might be Asian, too."

  Mel mumbled the F-word.

  "You ladies sure you don't know anything about that?"

  I spun around. "We weren't trespassing and the door was unlocked. We asked if anyone was home but no one answered, so we went in to make sure."

  He pulled a pen and small notepad from his shirt pocket. "How about we head back to my car for a little chat?" He flipped open the notepad and pointed his pen at me. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

  "That's because I didn't give it to you," I said.

  "I'd like my phone call please," Mel said.

  "We're not under arrest." I stared at the officer. "May I see some ID please?"

  He half-smiled and I watched his hand travel slowly toward his gun, bypass it and pull his wallet from his back pocket. He flipped it open and aimed a badge at us.

  I held out my hand. "May I see that?" I asked.

  He stepped closer and I checked out his badge as well as the ID next to it.

  Well, crap.

  The ID said Detective Scott Price. "Thank you, Detective."

  "Can I make that phone call now?" Mel asked.

  "You're not under arrest, ma'am," the detective said. "Not yet at least." He crooked his finger at us. "How about we take that little walk now?"

  Mel and I froze, our feet glued to the street.

  Detective Price waved his arm. "Ladies first."

  "I'm so gonna lose my kids for this," Mel whispered. "Where's your mother?"

  I glanced around us. "She left before we got here, remember?"

  "Yeah, because you pissed her off."

  "I did not. I'm sure she's around. She'll make her presence known when she needs to. Not that she can get us outta this anyway."

  "Crap," Mel whispered.

  "You can say that again."

  So she did.

  We'd all but crawled back to the detective's car, doing our best to stall the inevitable, whatever that was.

  "Now it's my turn to see your IDs and while you're getting them, how about you tell me what you were doing at the Stark house yesterday," Price said.

  We fiddled with our purses and after a minute or two of more stalling, gave him our IDs.

  "Angela Panther," he said, and then eyed me up and down. "What brings you to this side of the city?"

  Um, duh, the Stark house.

  "Business."

  He checked Mel's ID. "And you, Mrs. Henderson?"

  "It's Ms. Henderson," Mel said, enunciating the Ms.

  He raised an eyebrow and gave her the once over. I thought I noticed a little spark in his eye, too. "My mistake, Ms. Henderson."

  "Officer Price, can we just cut to the chase here? Are you going to arrest us?"

  "It's Detective Price, Ms. Panther." He put his notepad back into his pocket. "I'll tell you what, how about you tell me why you were at the Starks' house and I'll decide what happens next."

  He wasn't asking for permission. "It's Mrs. and I wanted to talk to them about their daughter, Tiffany."

  "Do you know something about their daughter, Mrs. Panther?"

  I ignored his question. "But they weren't home and yeah, we went around to the back of the house because there was this funny smell coming from the front door and we wanted to see if we could see anything from the kitchen windows."

  "Yeah, the smell was really bad and we were worried something was wrong in the house," Mel said.

  "You haven't answered my question, Mrs. Panther. Do you know something about their daughter?"

  "I'm getting to that," I said, stalling. "Please let me finish."

  He shook his head. "Go on."

  "We thought we should at least check the kitchen before calling the police. I guess we weren't really thinking clearly but the backdoor was opened so we went in to make sure everything was okay."

  "And I'm assuming it was, since there's no record of a call."

  "Just a dead cat," Mel mumbled.

  "Excuse me?" Price pulled the notepad out of his pocket again. "Can you repeat that?"

  "A dead cat," I repeated for her. "The smell was really bad but we didn't see anything on the first floor. When we stood near the stairs, we noticed the smell got stronger
, so we went up there and found a dead cat on a bed in a girl's bedroom. We didn't think that was urgent enough to call the police though and we left."

  "Let's get back to why you wanted to talk to the Starks about their daughter."

  I needed to call Aaron. He could talk to Price and straighten everything out in a jiffy. "Maybe I could make a quick phone call first?"

  Price clenched his jaw. "Do you know something about Tiffany Stark, Mrs. Panther?"

  Every time he called me that images of my mother-in-law popped into my head. For reasons I didn't understand, I remembered it was her birthday later in the week and I'd forgotten to send her a card. There would be hell to pay with Jake if I didn't get on that ASAP.

  "Mrs. Panther?"

  His voice caught my attention. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

  "You've got thirty seconds to answer my question Mrs. Panther or we'll handle this at the station. Now tell me what you know about the Stark girl."

  I knew I was up against a wall, figuratively speaking at least. And it wasn't the detective's fault. The universe set me up. Someone up there wanted me to be loud and proud about my gift. They wanted me to use it in ways I wasn't ready for, and wanted me to take the risk of dealing with the fallout of all of that, too. They wanted to control who, when, where, why, and how, without any concern for my needs or my feelings and didn't give a rat's butt about my family. Fighting it was useless. I finally understood that and took the bull by the horns and dropped a bomb the size of Texas at Price's feet. "Tiffany Stark is dead."

  Mel gasped. "Holy shit."

  Before the detective could speak, the universe threw me a bone. A young man in a police uniform appeared next to the detective. I mouthed, hallelujah, and my heart rate returned to semi-normal.

  "Detective," I said with a mouth full of confidence. "There's something you need to know about me."

  Mel raised her hands and head to the sky and whispered, "Thank you, Jesus."

  I glanced at the spirit.

  "William Breyer," he said.

  "I have a message for you from someone named William Breyer."

  Price's face morphed from cocky to confused and then finally settled on pissed. "Breyer's dead."

  "Yes, I know but I can see him."

  "Who the hell are you?" he asked.

  "Rut roh," Mel whispered.

  I swallowed my mouth full of confidence and grabbed a hold of Mel's arm for both emotional and physical support. I was screwed and I knew it.

  "Gimme your license again," Price said.

  He read my license again and gave me the once over and then pointed and shook his massive index finger at us and strongly suggested we stay put or as he explained, he'd have the whole damn force on our asses before we could put our fancy soccer mom car in reverse. He stomped back to his car.