by Rita Karnopp
Whispering Spirits
By Rita Karnopp
ISBN: 978-1-77145-343-1
http://bookswelove.net
Copyright 2014 by Jamie Hill
Cover art by Michelle Lee Copyright 2014
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
* * *
Dedication:
To my children
My daughter, Jamie, who is always there for me to bounce ideas off and who is unselfishly supportive when I need it most. There are times when I wouldn’t get that spark without her classy comments and clever input. Thank you for always being there for me.
My son, Christopher, who is always first to say how proud he is I’ve written seventeen books, and counting. He never tires asking how it’s going or giving me that added strength and encouragement it takes to be an author.
With children this supportive and proud of me …I can’t help but feel accomplished and fulfilled. I’m so very blessed to have such loving children.
Chapter One
The steady beep…beep…beep wore on Summer’s dazed mind. She forced her eyes open. A quick glance revealed a hospital bed and numerous attachments to her and various machines.
“Well it’s about time, Summer. You had me worried.”
“What are you doing here?”
“It’s where a mother should be when her daughter needs her. What happened? I couldn’t get a thing from the police or from Joshua Perkins, who by the way is as aggravating as his brother was.”
Summer stared at her mother and wished she’d leave. “I don’t know what happened. Jordan’s dead. You’re right. Joshua isn’t helping, if anything he’s blaming me even though…I……knocked the man out—”
“You did more than that, Summer Timber Wolf.” A man stood in the doorway. “Or do you wish to be called Nii’po O’mahkapi’si.” He stepped into the room. “I’m glad to see you’ve come around. It’s time we had a little chat.”
“Summer may look fine, but she still isn’t up to a lot of questions.”
“Well, Summer, Derek Wallace died as a result of the blow you gave him to the back of the head. Whether you’re up to it or not, we need to talk.”
An image of Derek unconscious on the floor raced through her memory. “Oh…no! He couldn’t have. I hit him hard…but…not that hard.”
“Well, I’m afraid it did the trick. Can’t say we blame you for trying to save your boyfriend. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure Jordan Perkins was a fine young man. No one’s accusing you of murder. Did you know Derek Wallace?”
Summer fought the nausea that threatened to surface. “Who are you?”
“You don’t remember me? I’ll try not to take that personal. I’m Detective Tom Buggeta. We met the night of your boyfriend’s murder.”
“Oh, I guess I do remember you…sort of. You look different somehow.”
“That must be your way of saying I cleanup well. I’d been up about twenty hours by the time I arrived at Mr. Perkins’ apartment that night. Well, did you know Derek, ma’am?”
“Call me Summer. No, I didn’t know the guy who shot Jordan. Never saw him before…how long have I been here?” She glanced over at her mother and noticed her eyeing up the detective.
“You’ve been in a coma ten days, dear.”
“Ten days! That can’t be!” Summer closed her eyes, then quickly reopened them. “Why did Derek want to kill Jordan? I don’t understand.”
“That’s what I’ve been hoping you could tell me, Summer. “ Detective Buggeta pulled up a chair and sat. “What do you remember from that night?”
“I got a call from Jordan—”
“What time was that?”
“Around two in the morning. It seemed strange.”
“How so,” Detective Buggeta leaned forward.
“Jordan didn’t ask me to come over to his place, he told me…almost ordered me to get there.”
“What were his exact words?”
“’Get over here now.’ He hung up before I could even respond. I almost called him back to ask why he sounded so rude. His call seemed so bizarre I got up and headed over to his place right away. Now I’m starting to question whether it was Jordan calling…what if it was someone else?”
“Good question. What then?”
“Well, I realized his door was slightly open, and again I remember thinking how strange. Jordan was a harpy on keeping doors locked. I entered slow and quiet and then realized Jordan was on the floor fighting some guy for a gun. I ran into the kitchen…and that’s when I heard the shot.”
“How many shots did you hear?”
“Just one. I grabbed the cast iron pan off the stove and hit…the guy over the head. I didn’t mean to kill him, I just wanted to—”
“Don’t think about that right now, Summer. You have to concentrate on getting well.” Her mother stepped forward and smoothed her hand across Summer’s forehead.
She cringed from her mother’s touch. When had she become the dotting parent? “Is Nah’ah coming to see me?”
“Why? Aren’t I enough? Why do you always seem to need her?”
“I’m not trying to start a fight, Mother. I…just wondered if Grandmother was coming.”
“Excuse me, ladies, but I really would like to finish this up. Summer, Jordan’s brother, Joshua was at the apartment when we arrived. Do you know when he got there?”
Summer thought the night through in her minds-eye. “I hit the guy over the head and he dropped to the floor. I swear I heard him moaning. I turned my attention to Jordan and realized he…he was dead.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
“I never really believed he was the right man for you, Summer.”
Winter reached over to sooth her brow again. Pressing into the pillow, Summer recoiled from her mother’s touch.
“Why would you think that, Mrs. Timber Wolf?” Detective Buggeta pulled out a notepad.
“Just call me Stoy-ii.”
“What?”
“Winter.”
“Your name is Winter and your daughter’s name is Summer? Cute.”
His comparison joke was old, and Summer’s head throbbed. She hated it when her mother decided she was Blackfeet enough to speak it. No doubt she wanted to impress him. “Listen, Detective Buggeta, I really don’t feel all that well. If there’s nothing else—”
“Well, actually I do have a few more questions. Like, when did you realize Joshua Perkins was at the apartment?”
“Oh, I guess you did ask me that. I…was leaning against Jordan…and Joshua told me to release my grip on Jordan’s shirt. I looked up and he was just glaring at me with such a cold stare. I asked him what he was doing there.”
“You and Joshua didn’t exactly get along?” Detective Buggeta glanced down as he wrote.
“No, he…didn’t feel an Indian girl was good enough for his brother. I told him to leave me alone.” Summer closed her eyes, trembling from the memories.
“Did he leave?”
“No, he said he wasn’t leaving his brother there like that. Then he asked me what the hell happened and why that guy killed Jordan?”
“Did he seem to know Derek?”
“I don’t think so. I…just wanted Joshua to leave me alone so I could spend…just a few more minutes with Jordan. I kept expecting him to wake up…but he never did. I asked Joshua why he was at the apartment at two in the morning.”
“What did he say?”
> “He said Jordan called all upset and told him to come over right away. Said he couldn’t discuss it on the phone. Joshua asked me what it was about, but I didn’t know. Joshua didn’t believe me.”
“What was your relationship with Jordan? Was it more serious than just dating?”
“We had decided to split after I got my degree. We were more friends…than a couple. Don’t get me wrong, we still cared about each other.” She glanced down and tears blurred her vision.
“What else do you remember?”
“Joshua wanted to know who the guy was that killed Jordan. I told him I didn’t know him. That I’d never seen him before. Then Joshua asked if Jordan had gotten into something…illegal?”
“Had he?”
“No! That wasn’t Jordan. That was more like Joshua if you want the truth.”
“What happened next?”
Summer drew in a deep breath. Joshua called 911 and you showed up.”
“Was that it?” Detective Buggeta looked up from his notebook.“Joshua shouted at me that I was compromising the crime scene and I could be screwing up important evidence. Then he said the strangest thing…it’s wasn’t about Jordan…it was about what I knew.”
“Do you know what he meant by that?”
“No…I really don’t. I asked him to explain himself and he walked out of the room.” Summer swiped at the tears on her cheeks.
“Anything else you can remember?”
“I remember some lady detective was helping me get up…away from Jordan…and I slipped and fell. That’s really all I remember.” Summer swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry to put you through all of this again, Summer. I know this can’t be easy. Do…you know who Ali Murdown is?”
Summer looked down at her fingers and back up at Detective Buggeta. “There were rumors that she was after Jordan.”
“What do you mean by after?”
“The hots…uh…she wanted him. I didn’t really believe he responded because he commented several times she was trash.”
“You two discussed—”
“Does it matter what we discussed? Jordan’s dead. I don’t know why she’d even come up in a conversation unless you think she’s involved with his murder.”
“No, we don’t think that. You don’t remember…we found a woman…stabbed to death in Jordan’s shower that night?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Summer fought the nausea that threatened to explode.
“Ali Murdown was that woman.”
“I…I…what are you suggesting?”
“Were Ali and Jordan friends or…do you think they might have been having a little fling?”
Summer stared at him. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “I don’t have a flipping idea what Ali was doing in Jordan’s shower. Maybe you should ask Joshua about that one.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“I’d heard they were dating.”
“Why would she be in Jordan’s shower?”
Summer clenched her teeth, tensing her jaw. “You’re the detective, you figure it out.”
“Dear, there’s no need to be rude to Detective Buggeta. He’s only doing his job.”
Summer cast an icy glare at her. “Why don’t you let Detective Buggeta and I finish our conversation alone, mother.”
“I guess that would be best. I could use a cup of coffee. Would you like a cup, Summer? Detective Buggeta?”
“No thank you, Mother.”
“I only have a few more questions, so I don’t think so. But thank you, Mrs. Timber Wolf.”
Summer knew underneath the cool exterior, her mother seethed. She left the room with an air of indifference.
“Is it my imagination, or don’t you and your mother get along all that well?”
“I don’t think our relationship has a thing to do with your investigation, Detective Buggeta. I have a horrible headache, so if we could finish this up quickly, I’d appreciate it.” Doubts about Ali and Jordan rose and she fought them from surfacing.
“We were discussing Ali being murdered in your boyfriend’s shower. Do you have any idea what Derek Wallace might have been after?”
“I’m confused about everything. Maybe…maybe Jordan wasn’t there with Ali. Maybe Joshua was.”
“Hmm, interesting idea. But what about Derek?”
“Maybe Derek didn’t plan to find Jordan. What if he was looking for Joshua instead?” Summer pressed her forehead into the heel of her hand.
“You don’t exactly like Joshua, do you, Summer? Why would they be at Jordan’s apartment and not at Joshua’s place?”
“You really don’t know the answer to that?” Summer glared at Detective Buggeta, certain he couldn’t be that inept.
“You mean because poor Joshua doesn’t really have a true place of residence.”
“Exactly. He sponges off his family and friends. Jordan on the other hand worked full-time for Lawrence Borden’s campaign for a Democratic senator. He…was at the center…endless hours and made a very nice income. I don’t think it was Jordan who was in trouble. I think Joshua—”
“We considered the cocky brother. He has an alibi.”
“Interesting. I don’t think he came with anyone…for all I know he could have been in the other room and first came out after I hit that guy. Joshua always has a way of appearing innocent. He’s…involved one way or another…I’m sure of it.”
“Did Jordan have any enemies you know of?”
“I can’t think of anyone.” Summer wished he’d stop asking questions and would just leave her alone. For him the murder was ten days ago, for her it was hours.
“Is there anything else you might have noticed or heard that might be of interest to the investigation?”
“Goodness, Detective Buggeta, you still questioning my girl?” Steam escaped from the cup in her hand. “I expected you’d have finished some time ago. Maybe you should let her rest a bit to collect her thoughts. If she thinks of anything, she can call you.”
“I’m capable of handling this myself, Mother. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a little girl anymore. My time for needing a mother is long past.”
“No need to be rude, dear. Detective, as you can see, Summer seems a bit stressed and out of sorts. You might check in later tomorrow if you like.” She leaned toward him, revealing firm breasts pressing the low edge of her shimmering gold tank top.
Summer glared at her mother, then glanced at Detective Buggeta. His flushed cheeks revealed he hadn’t missed the display. “Why don’t you both go? I have a splitting headache and I just want to be alone.”
“Here’s my card. You think of anything, call me day or night. That’s my personal cell phone number I jotted on there.” He dropped it into her hand.
She took the card and tossed it on the bedside table. “I can’t imagine there’s anything more I can tell you. Everything happened so fast.”
“You never know. I’ve had witnesses remember things months after the fact. Thanks for your time, Miss Timber Wolf.” He strode out of the room and disappeared down the corridor. The clicking of his steps against the tile floor faded quickly.
Summer closed her eyes then opened them. “I thought you were leaving, too.”
“Could you be any more rude? I’m…I’m trying hard to be here for you.”
“Not necessary. I can take care of myself.” The pasty white of her mother’s skin always annoyed Summer. It being the only reason her skin had a paleness. In the summer she’d tan and look no different than the full-bloods. But come winter…her skin transformed…becoming lighter and lighter. She’d been blessed with high cheekbones and the broad Blackfeet forehead, but she truly prayed for dark, moody, brown eyes like a fawn. Nah’ah often said her eyes were as blue as camas flowers that spread across the meadows. In early times the people mistook camas fields for distant lakes. Every time she looked in the mirror they reminded her of how her mother deserted her and Inn.
“Really? You just finishe
d college and you don’t have a job. What are your plans?”
Summer glared at her mother. “You have any idea how…devastated I am over Jordan’s murder? I don’t think you really care, do you?”
“Like I said, I never thought he was right for you. You should marry a boy with money and purpose and definitely not a Native boy.”
“Who I marry is none of your business. There’s nothing wrong with Native men…they certainly are handsome. I just don’t seem to be attracted to any at the moment. It’s a little late for you to be mothering me now. You weren’t there when I needed you…and I definitely don’t need you now. Why don’t you go back to…who is he now…Jack? No, wait he hasn’t been in the picture for a couple years. I know it must be Adam…oh, no it’s not Adam or even James. I think father said the latest greatest boyfriend and love is Henry…right?”
“That’s enough, Summer. Who I choose to date is none of your business.”
“My sentiments exactly. I don’t even know why Father includes you in decisions about me. As far as I’m concerned, you left us and we don’t really need you in our lives. Why he believes I need you is beyond me. I never will. I’ll call and ask him to bring Nah’ah here.”
“In order words you don’t want me here?”
“I don’t need you here.”
“But you need Morning Star?”
“I’ll always need my nah’ah.”
“Well, then you’re going to be happy with the decision your father and I made for you last night.”
“You and father made a decision for me? Together? That must have been interesting. Who won the fight?”
“You’re becoming quite the snarky, aren’t you?”
“Decision, mother, what decision are you talking about? Last time I looked, my birth certificate said I was born twenty-four summers ago. Why would you and father make any decisions for me?” Summer drew in a deep breath and slowly released it.
“We told you we would support you while you’re going to school. You’ve just graduated. You either get a job or—”
