by Terri Reid
Mary glanced down at the list of names she brought and thought she’d try one.
“I don’t know, Jerry Wiley sure seems to think she has what it takes.”
One and a half hours later Mary walked back to her car with a notebook filled with venomous comments, snide innuendoes and really juicy gossip. She hoped that she would be able to dissect it and find some threads of truth.
She walked back to her office and put the information in her files. She glanced at the clock - it was 2:45. There was no way she was going to get up and run in the morning.
Then she thought about Chief of Police. She thought about his smirk. His Andy Taylor comment. Her lack of response to any of those.
“If I don’t show, he’s going to think he intimidated me. And, damn it, I’m not going to let anyone think that.”
The alarm clock rang less than two hours later. Mary moaned, but forced herself out of bed. She grabbed the diet cola she had left out the night before. “This is so bad for me,” she admitted as she guzzled down her caffeine fix.
Pulling open the top drawer, she grabbed her running gear.
“We’ll just show him that Mary O’Reilly isn’t a pushover.”
Mary jogged into the park looking for a fight. Just let him say something smart, she thought irritably, I’ll kick him back to Mayberry, Police Chief or not.
Her mood brightened a little when she saw his surprise as she jogged towards the carousel. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d show up, did you,” she murmured to herself. “I showed you.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said,” Bradley said, looking confused.
Mary glared at him. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“Oh,” he nodded understandingly. “Are we in the presence of ghosts?”
Mary studied him for a moment. Yes, there was mocking in his voice. Yes, he thought he was pretty superior. And, yes, she was really pissed off.
“Yeah, Andy Taylor’s standing behind you and he wants to kick your ass,” she replied. “Are you ready to race?”
“Yeah, but I…” he began.
“Good,” Mary interrupted and sped down the path. She was enjoying the look of shocked surprise on his face for a few moments until she could hear the sound of his footfalls gaining on her.
“Crap.”
Mary pushed forward and kept ahead of him for another mile, but she could feel the effects of a mostly sleepless night taking hold. The muscles in her legs began to shake and she knew she was going to lose this race. She finally slowed down to a jog and waited for him to pass her.
“Well, at least the view will be nice when he passes. He might be an idiot, but he has cute buns.”
Mary chuckled.
“So, what’s so funny?”
She was surprised to see Bradley keeping time with her slower pace.
“I thought you’d have passed me and been all the way to the finish line by now,” she said.
He shrugged, “Yeah, well, I didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night. Someone reported seeing a cat burglar prowling the streets of the downtown last night, so I was on stake out.”
“A cat burglar, huh?” she asked with a gulp.
“Yeah, they said it was just like that movie with Angelina Jolie. How did he put it? ‘A total babe dressed in all black.’”
Mary grinned. “Angelina Jolie, huh?”
He nodded. “Yep, the funny thing about it – she had a car just like yours and it was parked in front of your office.”
Crap! Busted, she thought.
“Wow, that is funny,” she replied, trying her best to look unconcerned.
“So, why are you so tired this morning?” he asked.
Mary knew a set-up when she saw one.
“I didn’t see you follow me home,” she said, dropping from a jog to a walk.
At least he had the decency to look slightly ashamed when he grinned. “Well, yeah, I stayed about a half block behind you and kept my lights off.”
“You know that’s against the law,” Mary stated.
“I was willing to risk it,” he replied.
Mary laughed, she couldn’t help herself.
“I can assure you that what I was doing last night had nothing to do with burglary,” she told him.
He nodded. “I didn’t think it did. Are you working on a case?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“You want to talk about it?”
“Not yet,” she said, “But when the time’s right I promise I’ll call you in. I do have respect for the law.”
“Even if it’s being represented by Barney Fife?” he asked stopping and blocking her way on the path.
Mary blushed. “Okay, for that I apologize,” she said.
He grinned. “Apology accepted. Shall we start over?”
Mary nodded.
“Hi, I’m Bradley Alden, the new Police Chief,” he said, extending his hand.
She smiled and shook his hand. “Mary O’Reilly, private investigator. It’s nice to meet you.”
The quick click of the handcuff over her wrist had her pulling back in shock.
“What the?”
Bradley shrugged apologetically. “Sorry, there’s a warrant out on you for trespassing and planting an explosive device. I’ve got to take you in.”
He gently took her other arm and clapped the handcuff on her other wrist. He started reading her the Miranda Rights.
“Planting an explosive? What the hell?” she snapped. “I never…”
“Yeah, well, let’s do this by the book, so we can figure out what’s happening.”
Mary turned to him. “You don’t really think…”
Bradley looked into Mary’s eyes. “I’ve had lots of experience in law enforcement. I’ve had military experience. And I’ve done my share in Special Ops. I think I would have recognized a terrorist if I’d been running with one every day for six months. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Mary nodded. He finished her Miranda Rights and led her to his cruiser.
“Besides,” he added. “The bomb was put together like an amateur did it. If you’d have done it, it would have been professional.”
Mary grinned. “Damn straight!”
Ten minutes later Mary sat in the regulation metal and vinyl chair next to his desk and did the best she could to answer the questions.
“Were you on the loading docks at the Freeport Republic last night at approximately 1 a.m.?”
Mary knew enough about law enforcement to realize that unless they had her fingerprints or an eye witness, they would never even ask her the questions – so, as usual, honesty was the best policy.
“Yes, I was on the loading dock at the Freeport Republic last night.”
“What were you doing there?” he asked, motioning with a look to the recorder on his desk, so she didn’t give him a smart-ass answer.
“I was interviewing a source for some information in a case I’m working on,” she replied.
“What is the name of your source?”
She shook her head. “I believe that the names of my sources are protected under the 2nd Amendment to the Constitution.”
Bradley smiled. “Good try, but that’s only if you’re a journalist, not a private investigator.”
“I was at the newspaper office,” she tried, “Shouldn’t that count?”
He just shook his head.
Mary shrugged, “Well, you’re not going to like my next answer any better.”
“Try me.”
“I was speaking with Anna Paxton, the former society columnist of the Freeport Republic.”
Bradley looked confused. “Why wouldn’t I like that answer. Now we have a witness who can verify where you were and what you did.”
“Because Anna Paxton died about twelve months ago.”
Bradley stood up and slammed his hand on the desk. “Dammit, Mary, this isn’t the time to be funny. Explosives. Bombs. Those go under the category of Homeland Security and they don’t play games.”
Mary took a deep breath and stood up to face Bradley.
“I’m not being funny, I don’t play games, I understand this is serious – but I actually am able to communicate with ghosts.”
Bradley ran his hand through his hair. “Come on, Mary, you can trust me. I know you use this ‘ghost thing’ as a marketing ploy, but you can tell me the truth.”
Mary took another deep breath, this one to prevent her from socking Bradley in the arm.
“Yep, you got me. I mean, being an honorably decorated ex-, cop, being part of the vice squad and up for promotion to detective status, as well as graduating with honors in Criminal Justice wasn’t enough experience to start my own P.I. agency. Yep, I needed a spin, so I just thought I’d throw in that I can see dead people,” she fumed. “Yep, that would keep the kooks away.”
Bradley sat down with a thump. “You mean to tell me that you actually believe that you can talk to ghosts?”
Mary leaned over his desk. “Not only do I believe it, Chief Alden, I actually do talk with ghosts.”
* * * * *
Chapter Nine
Damn, she wasn’t a nut.
Bradley hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Who would have guessed that Mary O’Reilly had really been a top-notch Chicago police officer? Not him.
Her commanding officer had nothing but good things to say about his former employee. She really had been on the fast track to becoming a detective and she deserved it. Smart, intuitive and dedicated. Who would have guessed?
So, what was all this crazy talk about seeing ghosts? No one sees ghosts because there are no such things as ghosts.
He had even asked her C.O. about the ghost thing, but the guy had enough Irish in him to believe in that kind of crap. But even he admitted that at first they sent Mary in to speak with the department shrink. But she turned the shrink into a believer, especially when she had delivered a message from her dead mother.
He remembered the seething anger in Mary’s eyes when he clipped those handcuffs on her. Her C.O. wasn’t the only one with a lot of Irish. He was glad she wasn’t packing.
Okay, that wasn’t fair. It had been pretty underhanded of him to trick her like that. He could only barely justify it because he didn’t know how she would react to being arrested. And he had to give her points, she had been honest with him. At least she was honest within her own strange little fantasy world.
Planting bombs. No, she wasn’t planting bombs. He’d stake his job on that one. Besides, the forensic guys pulled the whole bomb apart and couldn’t find anything linking Mary to it. She was set up. But why?
Someone playing a gag? Someone giving out a little payback?
He needed more information to figure out this puzzle. He sighed deeply, knowing there was only one way he was going to get it.
* * * * *
Chapter Ten
Mary had a splitting headache. She sat at the desk in her office, cradling her head in her hands and wishing the world would go away.
She would always remember the look Bradley gave her as he solicitously escorted her out of his office and asked one of his deputies to see her safely home. He even patted her arm and told her she needn’t worry; he would make sure everything was taken care of.
“He patted my arm, like I was a nut,” she growled. “He patted my freakin’ arm.”
She dropped her head on the desk and laid there. She heard the door open and close, but she just didn’t care.
“Hmmm, hard at work I see,” Rosie said casually.
“Nothing like putting your head into it,” Stanley added.
“Go away,” Mary groaned, “Can’t you see I’m trying to be depressed?”
Mary could hear chairs being pulled toward her desk, so she closed her eyes.
“I can’t see you, so you’re not there,” she said.
“Funny, people say that a lot about ghosts too,” Rosie said.
“That’s not funny,” Mary sulked.
“I heard the Police Chief hauled your butt to the hoosegow,” Stanley said, “What did you do, call him more names?”
Mary covered her head with her arms. “What did I do to deserve this?” she cried.
“Now, Mary, it’s time to put on your big girl pants and get back to work,” Rosie chided. “Don’t you have a case to work on?”
Mary nodded from under her arms.
“Never thought of you as a quitter,” Stanley added.
Mary sighed. “I’m usually not.”
“We brought you some cinnamon rolls from Coles Bakery,” Rosie added.
Mary immediately raised her head. “I love you guys.”
“And a large diet cola,” Stanley added. “That should take care of your headache.”
Mary felt like crying. “I don’t deserve you two.”
Rosie grinned. “Yeah, we know. But don’t worry, you’ll make it up to us.”
They all laughed.
Mary took a big bite of the cinnamon roll and sighed, “This tastes like heaven.”
“You’d know,” Stanley quipped.
Mary chuckled. “You know he thinks I’m nuts, he patted my arm and had a deputy escort me home.”
Rosie snorted. “Well, at least you’re not in jail.”
“What did he bust you for anyway?” Stanley asked.
“Trying to blow up the Freeport Republic building,” Mary answered.
“Well, I agree the editorials have been a little off lately, but blowing the place up seems a little extreme,” Rosie said.
“I didn’t try to blow it up,” Mary explained. “I met with Anna Paxton to ask her some questions about a case I’m working on. I left the dock and there were no explosives in sight. Suddenly there’s a warrant out for my arrest and they are accusing me of trying to blow up the building. And, besides that, the bomb looks like an amateur put it together.”
“Well, if you were going to bomb something, you’d be sure to get it done right,” Stanley said.
“That’s what Bradley said,” Mary agreed, biting into the cinnamon roll again.
“Bradley?” Rosie asked. “Who’s Bradley?”
Crap. Busted again, Mary thought.
“That the Police Chief’s name, Bradley Alden,” she told them. “He told me his name just before he slapped the handcuffs on me.”
“That seems a little rude,” Rosie said.
“Yeah, and a little tricky,” Mary added, “It was a fairly impressive maneuver.”
“Seems to me someone doesn’t want you investigating the case you’re on,” Stanley interjected.
Mary froze half-way into her next bite of cinnamon roll. “Well, duh,” she said, shaking her head. “Of course, that’s the reason. Stanley, you’re brilliant.”
“So, we’ll just leave you to your investigating,” Rosie said.
“Go get ‘em, girlie,” Stanley said, winking at Mary.
“Thanks, thanks a lot,” she replied and immediately began searching the notes she had taken the day before.
Several hours later, Mary knew she had to make another trip into Galena and meet with both the Senator and Susan Ryerson. She needed to find out if either of them knew about Renee’s pregnancy.
After a quick phone call confirming they would both be home, Mary grabbed her notebook, headed out the office door and nearly collided with Police Chief Bradley Alden.
“Sorry, I have an appointment,” Mary said, neatly walking around him.
“Mary, wait,” he said, catching her arm.
Mary looked pointedly at his hand on her arm and then up at him, “Are you arresting me again?”
“No, I’m not,” he replied, releasing her hand, “I would like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.”
“Really? Without handcuffs? What a novel idea.”
“Listen, I had no choice, I…”
“Your questions, Chief...I’m really running late,” she interrupted.
He pressed his lips together for a moment, biting back his anger and then
nodded.
“Was there anyone else present on the dock when you were there?” he asked, “Let me qualify that, anyone who would leave fingerprints?”
“No, there was no one on the dock with me who would leave fingerprints.”
“Why did you choose the dock to conduct this interview?”
“Because my contact stays close to the editorial offices of the paper, but often travels to the dock for an occasional cigarette break.”
“Ghosts smoke?” he asked incredulously.
Mary rolled her eyes. “Ghosts are merely the spirits of people who have died,” she explained. “If you had a habit while you were alive, why do you think you would change it after you’re dead?”
Bradley shrugged. “I guess you wouldn’t.”
