Drowning in Amber (A Marie Jenner Mystery Book 2)

by E. C. Bell

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled even more broadly, and stretched both arms above his head, looking like a beat-up alley cat. “My buddy Noreen—she hooked me up.”

  Before I could ask him what he meant, he leaned in, hard. “Why were you at my mom’s?”

  “A friend—a friend of mine told me you might be there.” Close enough to the truth.

  “Who told you that?”

  “Her name is Honoria Lowe.”

  He frowned. “Don’t think I know the chick,” he finally said.

  “You’re sure?” I asked.

  “Pretty sure.” The frown stayed. “You gotta leave my mother out of this. She doesn’t know anything.”

  “I will. I promise,” I whispered, to make absolutely certain James in the next room heard nothing. “Honoria is our client.” I blinked. “Mostly our client. The cops think she’s involved in your murder, and we’re trying to prove that she isn’t.”

  I grabbed a couple of the sketches off the desk and held them out. “She drew these. Plus one that was of your mother’s house. She said you were there. That’s why I went. I was just trying to find you.”

  “Huh.” The frown was gone, thank goodness, but the suspicious look still hung on his face. Then he blinked twice, rapidly, and half-smiled. “So she sees ghosts, too?”

  I nodded. “Yes. But not the way I do.”

  “Huh.” He glanced down at the sketches in my hand, and his light dimmed appreciably. “I told you there were ducks,” he finally muttered.

  “Yeah, I saw that.” I held the sketches out. “Please look at them, closely. I think everything we need to know is in them.”

  He glanced at them, then closed his eyes. “Those are horrible,” he whispered, and turned away. “I don’t want to look at them anymore.”

  I closed my eyes, to calm myself. James was still talking to Honoria in the other room. I still had time. All I had to do was get Eddie to really look at the sketches—but he’d wandered away from me, and was staring out the window.

  “So, how come I don’t see no more ghosts hanging around?” he asked. “This part of town, there should be lots of us.”

  “Most of them move on.”

  “Where to?” Gave a small laugh, but it sounded more frightened than amused. “Calgary?”

  “God forbid!” I whispered, and he laughed again. “No. They move to the next plane of existence. Sometimes, if they need it, I help them.”

  What was wrong with me? All I’d wanted to do with this particular ghost was get the information about his death—specifically, who had brutally killed him. Why had I even put the thought of moving him on in his head?

  “Oh.” His face went back to a frown. “You’re not going to do that to me, are you?”

  “No,” I finally said. “I wasn’t really thinking of it.”

  “Good,” he replied, and the easygoing grin was back. “I have business to attend to, after all.”

  “Yeah.” I walked up behind him, staying just out of his crazy-making aura. “About that, Eddie. Why are you so sure that your mom’s book club had anything to do with your death?”

  He didn’t answer me for a long moment. “You met ’em,” he finally muttered. “They wanted me dead. They said so.”

  He wasn’t going to be easy to convince.

  I heard James put down his phone and walk toward the door. “We’ll finish this conversation later,” I whispered, just as he walked into the reception area.

  “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

  “I thought I heard someone,” I said.

  Eddie stared at James for a second, then smiled. “He doesn’t know you can see me, does he?”

  “Who were you talking to?” James asked.

  “Does he?” Eddie repeated.

  “I wasn’t talking to anyone,” I replied, trying to ignore Eddie.

  “It sure sounded like you were,” James said.

  “Well,” Eddie muttered, chuckling. “This oughta be interesting.”

  You said a mouthful, Eddie.

  “OKAY, FINE,” JAMES said for the third time, and for the third time didn’t believe one word I was saying. “So you were just talking to yourself.”

  “Yes,” I said. Again.

  “And you just wanted me to have a little privacy.”

  “Yep. That’s it, exactly.”

  “Is this the way you guys communicate all the time?” Eddie asked. “My guess, you ain’t gonna make it.”

  I ignored him, or tried to. “We should call the police. Report the break-in.”

  “Break-in?” Eddie asked, and looked around the wrecked room. “Oh. Yeah. That was R and Crank.”

  I almost whirled and screamed, “R and Crank? Who are they?” But I didn’t. I needed to keep up stupid appearances, after all.

  James righted the chair, then sat at the desk and pulled the old-fashioned phone up by the cord, reconnected it to the wall, pressed a button or two, listened, seemed satisfied, and set it on the desk. “I already did.”

  “When?”

  “After I talked to Honoria.”

  “Did they say when they’d get here?”

  “Probably never,” Eddie said. “Not with this address.”

  “They didn’t say,” James said. “But it’s probably going to take them a while in this area of town.”

  “Well, what do we do, then?” I asked. Both of them, apparently.

  “We wait,” James said.

  “We could get high,” Eddie suggested. I decided to ignore Eddie.

  “What if whoever did this comes back while we’re waiting?”

  “Then we protect ourselves,” James said.

  “They probably will come back,” Eddie said. “Didn’t look like they found what they were looking for.”

  “And what were they looking for?” I asked. James gave me a strange look, and Eddie cackled out laughter, so I asked, “Do you have any ideas?”

  Weak, I know, but it was all I had. This three-way conversation was beginning to make my head ache.

  “I think you were right. I think you probably rattled some cages at the park,” James said.

  “You went to the park? My park?” Eddie cried. “No wonder they were here.”

  “So, if the druggies—”

  “Druggies!” Eddie laughed. I shot him a quick look, even though, to James, it would look like I was glaring at an empty corner of the room. Luckily, though, he had leaned over to pick some broken stuff off the floor.

  “You shouldn’t touch anything,” I said. “The cops will want to check for fingerprints or something. Won’t they?”

  “You’re right,” he said, and pulled his hand back. “So, if it was those guys from the park that did this, they came here looking for information . . .”

  “The only real information they could get would be Honoria’s address, and since I hadn’t written it down, she should be safe,” I said. “Right?”

  “Right.”

  “But what about us?” I asked. “We could be in danger, or something.”

  “Don’t worry,” James said, and smiled at me. “I’ll protect you.”

  “Thanks,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too sarcastic. He didn’t respond well to sarcasm.

  “You’re welcome.” He favoured me with another smile. Then we all jumped about a foot when someone hammered on the door. Through the broken window I could see two blue uniforms.

  “Well, look at that,” James said. “The police.”

  I really hoped neither of the cops standing at our door had been involved in the drug bust earlier that evening. That would be just too embarrassing.

  As James let them in, Eddie skittered over to me. “I’m not sticking around,” he said. “I personally hate cops.”

  “Come back, though,” I whispered. “I want to know more.”

  “All right. Tomorrow.” And in a swirl of light, he was gone. I was surprised and then angry. No walking? Swirling light and disappearing? Where did that come from? Gh
osts always seemed to be doing things I’d never seen before. What was the deal with that?

  TWO HOURS LATER, the police were gone, and James and I were alone in the wrecked office.

  “Let’s board up the window and get some rest. We can decide next steps tomorrow.”

  He yawned, a jaw-cracking affair, and then we quickly picked up as much of the wreckage as we could and found some cardboard in the overstuffed closet. James duct-taped it in place over the broken window in the door.

  “This won’t keep anyone out,” I said. I felt nervous. These guys, whoever they were, could get back in here, easily. “Maybe we could go to Jasmine’s.”

  “Marie, it’s three in the morning.”

  “Oh.”

  “Trust me, if they come back, we’ll hear them and deal with them,” James replied, and yawned again. He didn’t seem the least bit nervous, and I decided I was being a real girl about everything.

  “All right.”

  I looked around for something else to clean, and realized we’d finished the worst of it. I was going to offer to make tea or something, and then realized I was trying to put off actually going to sleep. I was being ridiculous.

  “You take the cot,” James said. “I’ll be okay on the floor.”

  Sometimes he took this being a gentleman thing way too far. “You’re still pretty banged up,” I said. “You use the cot. I’ll be fine out here. I’ll keep watch, just in case we have any more visitors.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  He pulled a blanket from the closet, handed it to me, then walked into the inner office. “Wake me in a couple of hours. I’ll spell you off,” he said, and I nodded.

  Moments later, I heard the springs of the cot creak as he rolled onto it, and then, very quickly, all was silent.

  I pulled the big chair over by the office door and settled into it, pulling the blanket over my shoulders. Heard a creak and jumped up to check if someone was coming up the stairs. Nothing. Settled back down, and tried to relax. Another creak, and I jumped up again. Didn’t remember this building making quite that much noise before. Looked around, even going so far as opening the front door a crack. Nothing.

  Settled down, and was instantly up again, this time because I couldn’t hear anything and was certain that the silence meant someone was creeping up the stairs.

  “Good grief!”

  I pulled the blankets back over me, but didn’t even bother closing my eyes this time. Wished that Dead Eddie would come back, so at least someone was in the room with me. But he’d said he would come back the next day. I was alone for the rest of the night. Heard a cat yowl somewhere close by, and jumped up, heart pounding.

  “Marie?”

  “What!” I screamed, my heart hitting that ultra-high range that meant either I was about to have a heart attack or I was scared out of my tree.

  “Come here.”

  It was James, in the other room. I pulled the blanket closely around me and skittered in.

  “What?”

  “You want to stay in here with me?” he asked.

  I honestly thought I was going to say, “No, it’s all right, I’ll just keep watch out there, everything’s fine.” What came out of my mouth was a strangled, “Yes.”

  “Come on, then.” He pulled the covers open.

  “Just a sec.”

  I grabbed a wooden chair and stuck the back of it under the doorknob of the front door. I’d seen this done in the movies, and hoped it would work to keep the door jammed shut. Then I skittered over to the cot and crawled in beside James.

  Under normal circumstances, I never would have done anything like that. The cot was small, and he is a large man. And there was the whole “this is a business arrangement” thing. Crawling into bed with him did not really send that message. But these were not normal circumstances. I snuggled into his arms and instantly felt safer.

  “You’re shivering,” he whispered. His breath touched my ear, and I shivered even harder.

  “I’m cold.”

  “Want another blanket?”

  “No.” Like a cat, I snuggled further into his arms, against his chest, pulling the warmth from him to me. “No, this is good. You’re sure I’m not taking too much space?”

  “No,” he murmured, and wrapped his arms around me. “Lots of room.”

  So I did the only thing I could do. As I felt him relax and ease into sleep, I followed him, feeling safer than I had in a long time.

  Maybe my whole life.

  Eddie:

  Seeing the Girl of Your Dreams,

  After You’re Dead

  I BOPPED BACK to the crucifixion tree again, but I wasn’t surprised this time.

  I didn’t want to hang around, but didn’t know where to go. It was too late to go to the park and get another hit, because I was certain that even Noreen would have called it a day by that time. Everyone who had a home would have gone to it. The only ones left would have been the truly homeless, and I didn’t need or want their kind of high. Nope, it was time to settle in for the night.

  I was wandering around the churchyard looking for a spot when I heard someone call me.

  No. That’s not right. That’s not what it was. No one was actually calling my name, even though I looked around and said, “Who is that?” like they had. No, it was more like someone reached into my brain and whispered something only I could hear.

  I recognized the voice. A girl who lived by the park. I’d run into her a few times, when I was alive. And she’d talked to me, if you could call, “No I don’t have any spare change” a conversation. But I was certain it was her voice I was hearing. And it sounded like she was looking for me.

  I looked around the churchyard, thinking she was there, mourning my loss or something. Yeah. Right. But there was something compelling about her tone. Like she really needed to see me.

  Who am I to turn down a woman? Especially a cute one with blonde hair. Those kind of women usually never notice me, so when her voice tickled my brain, I decided to follow it.

  The further west I walked, the stronger the connection became. Her voice didn’t get louder or anything. I just felt like I was more connected to her.

  I ended up at the park, and I almost stopped, but by that time the compulsion to follow her voice was overwhelming. Like I was jonesing, but in a good way. One more step, my head kept saying, and I’ll find her. Wasn’t quite sure what would happen then, but knew I couldn’t stop.

  Walked around the figures sleeping on the grass, to the far sidewalk, and then across the street in front of a three-story building. Bottom floor was commercial, and not the good commercial, either. Between a pawn shop and a payday loanshark place was a scratched-up door with a bank of beat-up buttons beside it. Checked the names—force of habit from life, I guess—but most of them were Smith and Jones, so I closed my eyes, and let her voice pull me through the door and up the stairs to the second floor.

  Dark dingy hallway, most of the lights burnt out or knocked out, but it didn’t stop me. Her voice was like a beacon pulling me to the third door on the right.

  I hesitated at the front of that door. I didn’t walk in on women, when I was alive. That type of behaviour could bring much unwanted police attention—but her voice in my brain was like an itch that desperately needed to be scratched.

  So, I walked through the door of the girl of my dreams.

  It wasn’t quite like I’d imagined. I thought it would have been cleaner, and more feminine. There was a big pile of mail—most of it fliers—on her kitchen table. Books everywhere. On the kitchen counter a TV was on, and I could tell by the snow she didn’t have cable. I could barely see the show, and the voices were muffled, as though the two guys on the screen were talking through mouths full of cotton.

  “Eddie.”

  I looked around, wondering as I did so if I’d heard the name on the television and mistaken it for the blonde calling my name.

  “Dead guy.”

  No mistake that tim
e. It was the blonde. Wasn’t too taken with her calling me “dead guy,” and I didn’t see her anywhere in the room. She had to be there somewhere though, because what I was hearing was not in my head this time. She was talking out loud. To me.

  Two doors leading out of the messy main room. Stuck my head through one, and could tell it was the bathroom, and empty. Backed out and tried the other door.

  This one led to the bedroom. This room was as stark and clean as the other was messy. Just two pieces of furniture—a bed and a dresser—and nothing else. By the light of another television—this one sitting on the top of the dresser, tuned to a different, but equally snowy, channel—I could see a form in the bed. It was the blonde.

  She was so slight she barely made a mound under the blankets. She muttered something and clutched at the blankets desperately, as though she didn’t quite have the strength to pull them up over her face.

  “Eddie,” she moaned. In spite of myself, I smiled. Nice hearing her say my name, even if it did sound like she was having a bad dream.

  “Yeah?” I said. Hoped I’d be able to pull her out of the dream. Maybe she’d sit up and see me. Talk to me. That would have been cool. “I’m right here. What do you want?”

  “Eddie,” she said again, but her voice didn’t sound like she’d heard me. Still sounded like she was caught in the dream, and whatever was going on in there, it didn’t sound good. “Run.”

  I frowned. Not so much because she’d suggested I run from whatever she saw in the dream, but because it looked like she couldn’t hear me. I’d hoped she would have—hoped she was like that Marie chick and would be able to talk to me, even though I was dead.

  Maybe I wasn’t talking loud enough. It wasn’t like I could shake her awake or anything.

  “Hey, chick!” I called. “Wake up!”

  Still nothing, past her frowning and clutching her blanket even more desperately.

  “Come on, chick, open your eyes!” I cried. “I’m right here!”

  Nothing.

  “Come on!” I yelled. “Open your eyes!”

  I got more reaction than I ever thought I would.

  Her eyes popped open, and she looked around the room like she was looking for me. But there was something about her eyes that let me know that even though they were open, she wasn’t seeing anything in that room, including me. She sat up, clutching the blankets to her chest, as she gasped in air like she was drowning. Then she opened her mouth and started to scream.