I preset a jump time on my chronometer before walking up to the bungalow. Just in case.
The sliding back door was open and only a screen obstructed the entrance. It wasn’t locked.
I slid the screen open quietly and stepped inside, scanning the kitchen. A spacious living room extended from the opposite side of a bar, and a wall of windows looked out toward the pacific. A cool breeze was blowing from offshore and made everything smell of salt, but there was another smell inside. A peeled orange had been split open and left on the counter, a few segments missing. There was an open beer near it, three-quarters full.
The ceiling fan hummed.
I walked through the kitchen into the living area, noting the dated glass coffee table and oak entertainment center that said Otto and June hadn’t redecorated in over a decade. With a view like this, no one would be focused on the furniture.
I was watching whitecaps rise and fall on the turquoise water when someone chambered a round in a gun behind me. My guess was a Glock.
I held my open hands out to show I was unarmed.
“You got some kind of nerve walking in here.” The male voice was even and calm. “Any reason I shouldn’t end you right now?”
“Because ghosts don’t kill people . . . Foster.”
I turned slowly to face the man with the gun.
Foster Phillips was wearing a linen shirt and Bermuda shorts. His hair was damp. I guessed he’d been in the pool not long ago. His clear blue eyes focused on my face. “How’d you find me?”
“Dogged persistence.”
Foster gave a snort. “What gave me away?”
I shrugged. “Not too many corpses around who pen their suicide notes after they’re dead.”
“You were one of the guys who barged in and snooped around the house.”
I slowly lowered my hands to my sides. “Convenient that there were two of us. Max and I had each other pegged as your killer for much longer than we should have. I figure you must still have been in the house too. Master bedroom maybe?”
“Couldn’t think straight to write the note looking at my own dead body. Too weird.”
“Have to hand it to you. Pretty clever coming up with that idea on the fly. Or did you have it planned the whole time?”
“Nah. Really thought about ending it.”
“So you sat in that chair contemplating killing yourself and then what? Remembered you still had a time machine?”
“Remembered I had another way out.”
“So you went into the other room, jumped back in time a few minutes, then walked back into the office and blew yourself away before you even had the idea. Swapped the guns, went back into the bedroom, wrote the note, hid out from me and Max while we blundered around, and I’m guessing you were gone before Isla got home. Or did you stay to watch? To see her face when she found you.”
“I didn’t need to see that. I didn’t do it to hurt her.”
“You certainly stumped the police. Handwriting analysis matched. Only your fingerprints on the gun and the note. Max and I were the only ones who could’ve seen there was no note on the desk at the time of your death. It was a nearly perfect murder.”
“It wasn’t murder. I’m still here. Only I’m free.”
“What about Dirk Walls? He’s the piece of the puzzle I’m still not clear on. Did he know you were alive?”
Foster swallowed. Lowered the gun slightly. “I went to his place after I did it. Told him to keep an eye on Isla for me. Didn’t want her running off while I was gone. I had to wait till after the casino job to come back for her or it would have screwed up the timeline. I was going to pay him more from the take when I got back.”
“But Max and Tank found him first.”
“Damn fool must have spent some of the money I gave him at the casino while he was watching Isla. That’s the only way they could have known he was in on it. By the time I got back to his place they’d killed him.”
“He didn’t know showing up with gravitized cash would have him flagged as being connected to a time traveler.”
“I didn’t think to warn him. When I found out, it was too late.”
“Wasn’t the only thing you screwed up.”
Foster scowled. “How so?”
“You left a grieving widow who was distraught enough to hire a determined private detective.”
“So distraught she had to sleep with a private detective you mean? I saw you together, the night before I would’ve come back for her. I saw you through the window.”
“Ah. Figured you might be the one who tried to run me off the road. Time traveling out of Dirk’s truck before the crash was a nice touch. But I didn’t sleep with your wife that night. And you were dead.”
“My body was barely cold.”
“Seemed that way to you maybe. Months for her. But you figured you’d leave her in the lurch? Like she had it coming?”
“Are you kidding? I did all of this for her! And she betrayed me. I saw you with your arm around her at the casino, didn’t want to believe it, but then seeing you through the window only confirmed it.”
“You don’t see how backwards you have it.”
His hand had drooped with the weight of the gun as we spoke but he snapped it upright again. “You mocking me?”
“I get that your mind wasn’t right after your team turned on you. The stress of the heist. What was the deal? I’m guessing Max propositioned you when Isla wouldn’t let him into the cash poker games.”
“Never planned it to go this way. I only went along to make sure she didn’t get hurt. These guys would have eventually found a way in there with or without me.”
“But this way appealed to your big plans. You thought you’d grab Isla and go on the run with the cash. But then you saw her cheating on you.”
“She never could stay single. Not once in her life. I should’ve known.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t deserve her.”
“You know what? Go to hell.” His finger came off the trigger guard at the same time my hand found the chronometer pin on my other wrist. I caught the first hint of the muzzle flash the instant I vanished.
* * *
It was pitch black in the house.
I’d chosen three o’clock in the morning as my arrival time. It’s the time with the highest probability of nothing moving in a house.
There certainly was nothing moving in this one.
I took a deep breath and walked toward the space Foster had been standing and positioned myself just to one side, out of the line of fire from his pistol but close enough for what I had planned. I flexed both arms, shook them out, then took a nicely balanced stance before raising my chronometer to catch the dim light of the moon off the pacific. I set it for half a second after I’d left and pushed the pin.
* * *
Gunsmoke filled my nostrils as soon as I arrived. I’d missed the bang, but not the aftermath. The bullet from the gun punched through the front window and made its way toward the Pacific. My fist took Foster Phillips in the side of the jaw.
Punch through your target. That’s the key.
He went down at an angle, his body colliding with one of the barstools on the way down. He hit the floor hard.
I shook out my fingers and checked the results of my work. Foster wasn’t knocked out but he was dazed. I’d seen the look plenty. The gun had fallen from his fingers so I picked it up and tossed it onto the counter.
“As I was saying, you’re an idiot for not realizing what you had. Isla was distraught. Grieving. Needed comfort. She didn’t betray you. Being lonely isn’t easy.”
He still seemed dazed, but when he looked up, I got the impression my words had registered.
“Maybe you should try consulting your wife before you run off to Mexico. I hear communication is the key to a happy marriage.”
I took my phone from my pocket and pulled up my contacts. I fired off a quick message.
By the time I’d finished, Foster was looking more alert.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” I said. “In a minute, a bunch of Time Crimes agents are going to bust in here and arrest you. You’re going to do some time for theft and abuse of temporal machinery. Probably less time if you’re willing to cooperate and spill whatever you know on Magic Max and his buddies. Good news is it’s time travel jail so when you get out they’ll put you back anywhere you like. You can pick up where you left off with Isla, assuming she’ll still have you. I recommend your first words to her start with ‘I’m sorry.’”
Foster climbed slowly off the floor and I gestured toward a bar stool. He took it.
“I almost killed you,” he muttered. “And now you’re giving me marriage advice?”
“Tried to kill me. Let’s not give you too much credit.” I pocketed my phone. “And it turns out I’m a romantic. Who knew.”
22
I was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch of the vacation rental enjoying the cool tropical breeze when Agent Stella York finally made her way over. Time Crimes agents had Foster loaded in a transport carrier and would be hauling him off to Rookwood Penitentiary to await his trial. The prison for criminal time travelers was located in the mid twenty-second century. Inmates liked to call it ‘Time Out.’
Stella leaned on the porch railing and studied me, then tucked her hands into her bomber jacket as she leaned against the porch railing. “Playa Los Muertos, huh?”
“He told his friend there was a beach for the dead. Turns out he was being literal.”
“Seems like Foster will play ball. Says he’s willing to give us everything he knows on Magic Max and Tommy the Tank.”
“Tommy is dead. You’ll find him stinking up a ditch. I can give you the coordinates.”
“Your handiwork?” She arched an eyebrow.
“Tragic car accident. Had nothing to do with it.”
“Hmm. Convenient. You’re willing to verify that?”
“Only because you asked so nicely. What’s Foster looking at for charges?”
“He might get lucky. I don’t know if it was intentional, but he offed himself so quickly, and did such a good job getting out of town, the local timeline never split. I doubt it even gave anyone a headache. ASCOTT can’t charge him with creating more than a ten-minute localized paradox. He’ll have to own up to his involvement in the casino theft, but he wasn’t the mastermind behind the heist. They’ll want to go after bigger fish.”
“You have a way to put Foster back into linear society again after he does his time?”
“That’ll be tough. Hard to explain to a guy’s friends how he came back from the dead. But maybe the wife will be willing to relocate. We can place them in an alternate timeline with a clean start for his probation.”
“You found the money?”
“Back bedroom. That temporal relocation machine went missing from an ASCOTT stockpile a century from now. We’re grateful to recover it. Money will go back to the Tampa casino. You won’t be happy about the next bit of news I have for you though.”
“No finder’s fee?”
“The casino is owned in part by Roman Amadeus.”
I furrowed my brow. “Amadeus’ thugs were stealing from his own casino?”
“Turns out the casino had recently taken out an extensive anti-theft insurance policy. Linear people of course. They would have had no chance of ever discovering the stolen cash once it was relocated in time.”
“So Roman would have made insurance money from stealing his own cash. Now we have to give it back. At worst he’s back where he started. Can you pin the fraud on him?”
Stella shrugged. “Doubtful. I suspect it was all part of the larger strategy of laundering mob money through the casino but we can’t prove it. We picked up Magic Max in a neighboring timeline trying to trade in his black market Temprovibe. He’s going to testify that the whole heist was Tommy the Tank’s idea. Amadeus never knew anything about it.”
“Of course he is.”
“That’s the way these things go. Amadeus will make a mistake one of these days. If we caught all the bad guys we’d both be out of a job.”
“Doesn’t sound like the worst option.”
Stella stared out at the Pacific. “Vacations are overrated.”
“Maybe you and I should stay a few days and try it out. Just to see what the fuss is about.”
She turned and appraised me with a shake of her head. “Nice try. Work friends stay at work.”
“Oh, so we’re friends now?”
“I’m not arresting you yet. That’s something.”
I propped my feet on the porch railing. “Every relationship needs room to grow.”
Stella shook her head again, this time with a laugh. She stepped off the porch and walked away to rejoin her fellow agents. I didn’t mind the view. Because even from this angle, I could tell she was smiling.
23
Monday morning I was sitting in my office staring at the clock. The cleaning service had done its job. The mess was gone and a repairman had refinished the top of my desk. He was now working on cleaning the new lobby windows.
Isla Phillips walked up the stairs at 10:57 and came into my office without knocking.
I stood.
She wore an off-the-shoulder sweater dress in storm-cloud gray. High boots obscured her legs from the knee down but the near scandalous hemline of the sweater dress left the majority of her thighs bare. She walked in and set her pocketbook on the edge of my desk, then took a seat without speaking a word.
I sat again.
We stared at each other. Her from behind voluminous lashes.
“I didn’t hear from you last night but I decided to come in today as you suggested. I was beginning to think I was going crazy.”
“When you came into my office on Friday, I made you a promise,” I said. “That if you showed up at eleven this morning, I’d give you the truth. I’m afraid I’ve broken that promise.”
Isla glanced at the clock. It was a minute past eleven.
“You can’t imagine I’d fault you a matter of sixty seconds. Are you saying you can’t give me the truth? If you need more time—”
“I don’t.”
She pursed her lips. “Is it because of how I came on to you the other night? You want to be rid of me? I’d had a lot to drink and—”
“Mrs. Phillips, however complicated our involvement the other night turned out, it wouldn’t have kept me from telling you the truth. This is something more complex than that.” I entwined my fingers on my lap. “The resolution is going to be complicated too. In a few days you’re going to be contacted by an agency in possession of Foster Phillips.”
“His body? It’s been cremated.”
“His person. It turns out your husband went to elaborate means to fake his death.”
Isla Phillips locked eyes with me. Confusion changing to anger. “I’m the one that found him. I washed his blood from my—” her lips quivered as she tried to get the words out. “You told me—”
“I know the situation is inconceivable. But I was wrong before. Your husband is alive.”
She glared at me, reading my face. “Why? Why would he do such a horrible thing?”
“Escape. To get clear of the trouble he’d gotten you into. And because he underestimated the means you’d employ to avenge him.”
“Avenge.” Her voice was flat but somewhere in the word was a question.
“Me. He saw us together the other night. He thought you’d betrayed him.”
She wilted. “He did?”
“When you see him again I suspect he’ll feel differently.”
“You spoke to Foster.”
“And you will too. Soon.”
“And the men who wanted him dead?”
“They won’t be bothering you anymore.”
“How long have you known he was alive? Before Saturday night?”
“I didn’t suspect it then. That wasn’t why I didn’t stay.”
“You thought I was broken.�
��
“No. But I know I am.”
Her expression changed—her brow furrowed. “No. This is absurd. First you tell me it’s time travel. Now you say Foster is alive? You have any proof? You said yourself there’s something you’re not telling me.”
“I’m not telling you how it works.”
“You can’t or won’t?”
“The agency who has Foster wants to be the one to explain it to you. Help you adjust.”
“Then how do I know you’re telling me the truth about the rest?”
“It will become evident. In time. Foster has always been striving for a way out. He never got free, not really, but this will be your chance. When these people call—and they will—pick up. Whether you take Foster back after what he did is up to you. But either way, it’ll be a fresh start. A real one.”
Isla twisted the wedding ring on her finger, then stood. “I owe you the rest of your money.”
“Use it to start your new life.”
“But you earned it.”
“Didn’t do it for the money. Let me be generous this time.”
She bit her lip. Then nodded.
I stood and walked her to the door, opened it for her.
She stepped close and still smelled of summer. But it was a summer I couldn’t know.
Isla paused next to me, placed one hand on my shoulder, rose to her tiptoes and kissed the corner of my mouth, lingered there. Then she whispered “Thank you” and walked out.
I closed the door slower than usual.
Walking back to my chair, I put my hands in my pockets and stared out the window.
Waldo’s voice emanated from the speaker in the lamp. “My job as your assistant would be easier if you collected the full fee for our services. We do have bills to pay.”
“I’ll make it up on the next one.”
Out the window, Isla Phillips climbed into her white Volvo and was lost to view.
Time of Death Page 12
