by Terri Reid
“Mr. and Mrs. Whitley, I’m Bernie Wojchichowski, Cook County Coroner,” he said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you,” Joyce said, her voice trembling. “Have you found her?”
Bernie nodded. “Yes, we were able to exhume her body this morning,” he said. “But before you go over and look at her, I just want to talk to you for a few minutes. Is that okay with you?”
They nodded and Bernie led them into the room. Bradley came forward and hugged them both. Joyce clasped his hand tightly and kept hold of it while Bernie led them across the room to his desk. Joyce froze for a moment when she saw the casket lying on the raised platform. Bill put his arm around her shoulders and guided her forward, although her gaze never left the casket.
“Is that…?” she stammered, tears filling her eyes.
Bradley nodded. “Yes, that’s Jeannine.”
He and Bill helped her into a chair and sat on either side of her, offering her comfort. She released Bradley’s hand and searched in her purse for a handkerchief, blotting the moisture from her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said. “Please continue with your talk.”
Bernie sat on the edge of the desk in front of them. “Are you religious people?” Bernie asked.
They both nodded at him and he smiled. “Good, because that always makes this conversation easier.”
He reached back and opened one of the drawers, pulled out a white cotton glove and put it on his hand. “Okay, so this is not a conversation that has been sanctioned by the City of Chicago or Cook County,” he said. “This is a conversation between people, religious people, about death and stuff you learn when you’re a coroner. Understand?”
Once again, they nodded.
Bernie raised his gloved hand and wiggled his fingers. “What you see here is a glove moving, right?” he looked at Bradley.
“Right,” Bradley said.
“Wrong,” Bernie replied. “What you got here is my hand moving, but it’s covered by a glove, so you think it’s the glove moving.”
He pulled the glove off his hand and threw it up in the air. The glove dropped down onto the top of the desk. “Without my hand, the glove looks like it did before, but there ain’t no movement, there ain’t no life and there ain’t no Wojchichowski charm attached to it. It’s just a shell.”
He stood up and walked over to the casket. “What we got in here is a glove,” he said. “It’s a glove that’s been buried in the ground for eight years, so Mother Nature took her toll. But, you gotta remember that what you are going to see, ain’t your daughter. She’s left that glove eight years ago.”
“And what you need to remember is she’s still alive, but she’s in another place,” he said, “A better place. And I personally think she probably looks like when her glove was fresh and new, nothing like what you’re going to see in that casket. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Joyce nodded and placed her hand on top of her husband’s hand. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.”
They stood and made their way to the casket, Bill’s arm around Joyce’s waist. They stopped together, leaned forward and looked at the remains. Joyce gasped, turned her head into her husband’s shoulder and wept. He held her tightly, his eyes still on the skeleton before them.
“You’re right,” he said to Bernie. “Our daughter is already home with her Father. Thank you for reminding us.”
“Bill, can I…?” Bradley paused, unsure of what to do.
“I think Joyce and I need some time together to let this all sink in,” he said. “Thank you for finding her, Bradley. We’ll see you on Saturday.”
He turned slowly and guided his wife out of the room.
Chapter Twenty-five
Walter sat back in his chair. “You see dead people?” he asked, disbelief showing clearly in his face.
“Well, I know it sounds strange,” she agreed with a tentative smile. “But I can see and talk to ghosts. So, that’s why Ian got in touch with me. I’ve, er, I’ve been useful in some police investigations and the Chicago Police Department mentioned my name.”
“Rosie, you have to admit this takes a little getting used to,” he admitted.
“Well, of course it does,” she agreed. “And believe me; it took a little getting used to on my part.”
“There are a lot of ghost stories in Freeport,” Walter said, “Why the high school?”
“Well, if Coach Thorne is still around, I’d like to help him move on,” she explained. “He saved my life. He saved your life. The least we can do is save his, er, afterlife.”
Walter drummed his fingers on his desk. “So you don’t know if Coach Thorne is still around…as a ghost.”
Rosie decided Wally didn’t need to know Mary and Ian had already gotten into the school. “No, I don’t know for sure,” she said. “But there are still stories about the high school being haunted and I thought we could start there.”
Shaking his head, Walter sat back comfortably in his chair. “Well, Rosie, as much as I’d like to help you, you know I have to answer to the school board,” he said pretentiously, “Often my hands are tied and I’m afraid in this case…”
Rosie sighed. “Oh, well, don’t worry about it, Walter,” she said, interrupting him. “Once Bradley gets back into town, I’m sure…”
“Bradley,” Walter said, sitting up straight in his chair.
“Yes, Bradley, you know, Chief Alden,” Rosie said. “Once Police Chief Alden gets back in town, I’m sure he’ll be interested…”
“No, no, no,” Walter interrupted eagerly. “We don’t want to bother the Police Chief with something like this. He’s a busy, busy man. I’m sure there won’t be a problem for you to get access to the high school in the evenings.”
Rosie clapped her hands. “Oh, really? That would be just wonderful.”
“I’ll just have my secretary get you a pass key to the high school,” he said, pressing his intercom and repeating the request to his secretary. “But I do have a request.”
“Well, of course,” Rosie said. “What would you like.”
“Well, I’m a fan of Coach Throne, he was such a hero,” he said. “I would consider it a personal favor if you could keep me updated on the status of your investigation.”
“Oh, of course,” Rosie agreed. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
“Wonderful,” he said. “Call me once you have any information and I’ll meet with you to go over it.”
The office door opened and his secretary came in with the key. Rosie stood, took the key and thanked her. She turned to Walter and offered him her hand. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I know we are both going to be so surprised with the outcome of this research.”
He took her hand and offered her a weak handshake. “You have no idea, Rosie,” he said. “No idea at all.”
Once she left the room, he pressed the button on the intercom. “Gladys, hold all my calls for the next thirty minutes,” he ordered.
Pulling one of his drawers open, he pulled out a bottle of Scotch and a glass tumbler. His hands shook as he unscrewed the top of the bottle and poured a generous amount of the amber liquid into the glass. He placed the open bottle next to the phone, lifted the glass and took a large gulp. He winced at the burn in his throat, but immediately lifted the glass and drank deeply again. Finally, he lifted the handset on his phone and dialed a number. He patted his forehead with a tissue while he waited for the call to be answered.
“This is Walter,” he said without any greeting, “We’ve got to get together and quick. We’ve got trouble.”
Chapter Twenty-six
Bradley stared at the door that had just closed behind Jeannine’s parents.
“Damn.”
“Yeah, but the ones you gotta worry about are the ones that ain’t crying when they leave here,” Bernie said. “Those two, it’s gonna take a while, but they’re going to be fine.”
Bradley took a deep breath. “Okay, so what do you still need from me?” he asked.
Bradley smiled. “Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he said. “Thanks Bernie.”
“Hey Bernie, we’re going to leave Bradley’s cruiser in the lot, if that’s okay with you,” Sean said. “I got to bring him over to meet Pete O’Bryan.”
“Yeah, really? You got Pete to help him?” Bernie said, nodding his head, obviously impressed. “That’ll be good. And, if that don’t work, I got this other nephew…”
Sean pushed Bradley towards the door. “It’ll work,” he called behind him. “But thanks anyway Bernie.”
The door swung shut behind them and Bradley turned to Sean. “Who’s Pete O’Bryan and why am I going to meet with him?”
“Pete’s one of the best lawyers in the city,” Sean said. “He and I went to college together, we both played football. He was the quarterback and I was the left tackle, protecting his butt during every game. He owes me a couple, so I called one in.”
Bradley stopped in the middle of the hallway. “Wait a minute,” he said, “One of the best lawyers in the city? I appreciate the favor, Sean, and you know I’m going to do everything in my power to find my little girl. But, I’ve got to be realistic too. I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Bradley, when I said Pete owed me, I meant it. No charge. He’s doing this pro bono.”
Bradley was dumbfounded. “What? Why?”
“I told him my future brother-in-law was looking for his little girl,” Sean explained over his shoulder as he walked down the hall. “It’s an early wedding gift.”
Rushing after him, Bradley grabbed his shoulder. “Wait a minute,” he said.
“What you change your mind?”
“No, of course not. But I haven’t even asked her yet.”
“Not while she was awake, anyway,” Sean teased, continuing down the hall.
“I haven’t asked your dad for permission,” Bradley countered, hurrying after him.
“Yeah, we’re having breakfast with them in the morning,” Sean said. “You’re spending the night at my place.”
“Dammit, you’re not my big brother,” Bradley said, grabbing hold of the door before Sean could exit.
Sean looked at him and grinned. “Not yet,” he said. “But soon.”
An hour later they were escorted into a posh private waiting room with windows that overlooked Lake Michigan. The floor was polished oak and the furniture was dark brown leather and mahogany.
“Nice digs,” Sean said, sinking into one of the chairs. “But it would be better if it had a pool table.”
“I’ll take that into advisement,” said the man who entered the room from a door on the other side of the room.
Bradley looked over and was surprised to see that the robust voice came from a man who was sitting in a wheelchair. His upper body was strong and well-developed, but the rest of his body, from his waist down was covered by a blanket. He wheeled over to Bradley and extended his hand, even in the wheelchair he seemed tall. “Hi, I’m Pete,” he said, his smile was wide and his blue eyes were sharp and intelligent. “Sean told me a little about your situation.”
Bradley shook his hand, impressed by the strong grip. “I’m grateful you’re willing to help me.”
“Hey, if you’re a part of Sean’s family, you’re part of my family too,” he said. “Why don’t you sit down? It’s breaking my neck looking up at you.”
Bradley was immediately taken aback; he glanced around for a chair. “Oh, I’m so…”
“Listen, Pete, take it easy on the guy,” Sean said. “He’s actually one of those polite and caring types.”
Pete laughed. “Sorry, I have a weird sense of humor,” he admitted. “Come on; let’s go into my office where we can talk.”
They followed Pete back through the door he used to come in and entered a beautifully furnished office that was obviously designed for Pete’s wheelchair. Bradley looked around and noted the trophies on the shelves testifying to Pete’s athletic accomplishments in the past. A framed degree from an Ivy League Law School hung on the wall behind his desk. Pete wheeled behind a large wooden desk and tapped a button. A computer monitor raised out of the middle of the desk.
“Don’t you just love technology?” he asked with a grin. “Now, let’s get started.”
Three hours later, Bradley’s head was spinning. He had a list of things he needed to document and he was in awe of the attention to detail and knowledge Pete possessed. He could actually feel hope burning in his chest, if anyone was going to be able to cut through the red tape and sealed adoption records, it would be Pete.
He stood up, leaned over the desk and extended his hand to Pete. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I’m grateful for what you’re doing.”
Pete shook his hand. “Hey, it’s the least I can do for someone in the O’Reilly clan.”
“Well, I’m not part of the clan yet,” he admitted.
“Yeah, he’s going to talk to dad tomorrow and get his permission,” Sean added.
“Good luck, Bradley,” Pete said. “I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”
“Thanks…I think,” Bradley said. “Hey, do you want to be there? Maybe you could represent me.”
Pete laughed. “Oh, no, I stay out of family matters like these.”
Bradley sighed. “I knew you were a smart man.”
Sean laughed. “Hey, don’t worry; I’ve got your back. Besides, I invited Art and Tom to be there too.”
“The twins?” Pete asked. “Most guys only have to face the father, not all the brothers too.”
Sean grinned. “He can take it,” he said. “Besides, ma likes him.”
Pete nodded. “With Maggie O’Reilly on your side, you don’t need a thing more.”
Bradley shook his head. “So why do I feel like I’m going to my own execution?”
Chapter Twenty-seven
“I’m back,” Rosie sang as she danced through Mary’s front doorway.
Stanley rose from Mary’s couch and walked over to meet her. “Why didn’t you tell me you was going to meet with Wally?” Stanley said. “I woulda gone with you.”
“Well, Stanley, it just wouldn’t have worked as well,” she explained.
Stanley squinted his eyes and stared at her. “Was you using your womanly wiles on that poor man?”
Rosie blushed. “No. Well, maybe a little. But it was for a good cause. I got the key.”
Ian clapped his hands. “Good for you, Rosie,” he said. “Mission accomplished.”
Mary, her arms full of laundry, came walking down the stairs. “What’s going on?”
“Rosie got her man and got the key,” Ian said.
“She got the key alrighty,” Stanley said. “But the only man she’s getting around here is me.”
Rosie reached up and placed a kiss on Stanley’s cheek. “You’re the only man I want to get,” she said, tenderly patting his cheek.
“So, do I have to wear a radon suit or something like that?” Ian asked.
She shook her head. “Oh, no, the school was already tested for radon,” she said, “So that idea didn’t work at all.”
“Oh, sorry, Rosie,” Mary said. “I thought that was a sure fire winner.”
Shaking her head, Rosie slipped off her coat and hung it over the back of the chair. “Well, actually, the funny thing is…,” she paused for a moment, lowered her head and bit her lower lip. “The thing is, I couldn’t think of anything else, so I told him the truth.”
Mary dropped the laundry. “What truth?” she asked.
“I told him to do a Google search on Ian,” she said. “And he saw that he was a professor.”
“And that my specialty is parapsychology,” Ian added.
“Yes,” Rosie admitted and then turned to Mary. “But, I didn’t tell him about you. So, this will work perfectly.”
Stanley put his hands on his hips. “Sounds like yo
u ain’t telling us everything, girlie,” he said. “What else?”
Rosie sighed deeply. “Well, I may have led him to believe that I…,” she hesitated.
“That you…” Mary encouraged.
“That I can see ghosts.”
Stanley strode up next to Rosie. “You told him you could see ghosts?” he asked, his arms gesticulating in every direction. “You know what you did? You realize what you did? You placed yourself in danger. That’s what you did.”
Rosie took a deep breath and faced Stanley. She pointed her finger at him. “Yes, I did,” she said. “I put myself in a little danger and do you know why?”
“Yeah, I want to know.”
She put her finger on his chest and pushed, knocking him back a little and surprising him a lot. “Every time we work on a case with Mary, she puts herself in danger,” Rosie said. “She sacrifices for everyone else. She helps everyone else. And what do I do?”
“Rosie you help,” Mary said. “You always help.”
“I make cookies,” she argued, popping Stanley’s chest with her finger again. “I cook, I bake. Oh, look out Rosie, you might do something dangerous, like get burned on the stove. The rest of you protect me while you get involved.”
“Rosie, darling, you do much more than that,” Ian said.
She glared at him. “Don’t try to sweet talk me, Ian,” she said. “I know who I am and I know my limitations. But this time,” she took a shuddering breath, “This time, the man involved saved my life. This time I’m the one who was saved. This time I had to do more.”
Unheeded, tears flowed down her cheeks. “This time I wanted to make a difference.”
Stanley put his arms around her and held her tightly. He placed a kiss on her head. “You make a difference every day,” he whispered softly, “By just being you.”
