Spouse on Haunted Hill

by E. J. Copperman

  “You asked if he was here. He wasn’t here. It’s not my business to get him in trouble if I don’t have to.” I wasn’t making eye contact. It’s harder with McElone since she and I had . . . an adventure together. I sort of saved her life, and even though she’s done the same for me more than once, that’s her job and not mine, so it’s been a little weird since then. For one thing, lying to her is more difficult. The fact that she can arrest me whenever she feels like it contributes as well, but she could always do that.

  “Okay, I’m asking you now. What do you know about this whole business with Maurice DuBois?”

  I leaned on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs and glanced again at Mel, who was still staring out at the surf and probably wondering what the hell had happened to his marriage. Paul flittered down from the ceiling and hovered right where he could look into my eyes.

  “You have to give her the whole story,” he said. “You know the lieutenant and you know she’ll help if she can.”

  All that was true. I didn’t look up, but I said out loud, “Steven owed this Maurice guy’s boss a lot of money. He came looking for it this morning and Steven told him he’d have it in a couple of days. When Maurice left he and Steven were laughing like a couple of old friends. That’s what I know.”

  McElone had her notebook and a pen out and was jotting down what I’d said, even though I knew she would be able to recite it chapter and verse if you woke her at three in the morning six months from now. She is unbelievably efficient.

  “Who’s the boss?” she asked without looking up.

  “Um . . . Tony Danza?” I admit I knew what she was asking, but I needed a moment to process the situation and decide what I would say in response.

  “Tell her everything,” Paul reiterated. “Lying to the lieutenant isn’t going to help you.”

  “Maurice DuBois’s boss,” McElone said with a little edge in her voice. She doesn’t always appreciate my hilarious sense of humor.

  “His name is Lou Maroni, and I take it he’s in L.A., but that is really everything I know about him,” I told the lieutenant. “I don’t know what business he’s in or what side of the law he might be on. I never even heard his name before last night.” Had I really just picked up Liss and Steven from the airport yesterday? It felt like two weeks ago.

  It was possible my thinking of my daughter had awakened some karma in the house or something, because she appeared at the door to the den and looked at McElone, registering some panic. “Lieutenant,” she said. “Is something wrong?”

  That was the moment McElone’s cell phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket and pushed a button. “McElone.” She listened for a moment. “Okay. Keep me informed.” The phone went back in the pocket.

  “Mom?” Liss moved close to me and I put an arm around her. McElone’s face was serious, but that was true all the time.

  “It’s okay, baby,” I said. Then I looked at the lieutenant. “Right?”

  “Mostly,” McElone said. “That was the Asbury Park PD. They checked in on your boyfriend in his apartment.”

  My stomach was not feeling the way I wanted it to. “And?”

  Melissa held me a little closer.

  “He’s fine,” the lieutenant said. “He answered the door, they went inside and looked around. There was nobody there. I’m surprised you haven’t heard from him yet.”

  “I turned my phone off when you texted me,” I told her. “It was low on battery and I didn’t know how long we’d be.”

  “Turn it back on. I’m sure you’ll see messages.”

  Melissa let go of my arm and composed herself. “What about my father, Lieutenant?” she asked.

  McElone pursed her lips a little. “That’s a little more complicated. He wasn’t there when the Asbury Park uniforms got to the apartment.”

  “Where is he?” Melissa asked before I could.

  “We’re not sure. Josh told the cops your dad had slipped out not long after they got there and he didn’t know where he’d gone.”

  One of the things I like about McElone is that she talks to Melissa like an intelligent person and not a little child who needs coddling.

  “Why is this a problem, Lieutenant?” I asked. “Do you think Steven is in danger?” If Melissa was going to hear that, she’d hear it from McElone and not me.

  “Not necessarily. If this DuBois guy was the one threatening him, the danger has been removed.” McElone folded her arms in front of her in what appeared to be something of a challenging gesture.

  “So, what aren’t you saying?” I asked.

  Her eyes darted to Melissa, then back to me.

  “I appreciate it, Lieutenant, but Melissa is a smart and mature thirteen-year-old. Anything you can say in front of me you can say in front of her.” I looked at my daughter, who appeared confused as to how she should feel. On the one hand, I was still someone who had kicked her dad out of the house. On the other, I had just given her a compliment in an area she considered important. She appeared to choose bracing herself against whatever news McElone might be preparing to deliver.

  “All right, then,” the lieutenant said. “I still need to find your ex-husband, because if this guy was the threat, your ex was the person who stood the most to gain from his death.”

  Liss’s eyes widened. “You think—”

  McElone held up a hand, palm out. “I don’t think anything yet. I’m just saying that your dad is a person of interest in the murder of Maurice DuBois.”

  Eight

  “I have no idea where he went,” Josh said. “That guy is slippery.”

  “No kidding.” Having been married to Steven, I had learned to wear gloves with Velcro fingers to keep him in one place.

  McElone had ignored my suggestion that we drive to Josh’s Asbury Park apartment to make sure he was all right. She assured me the cops were keeping an eye on him and that once Steven had left his sight, Josh was probably removed from any danger. But she seemed skeptical of Josh’s explanation and was now listening on speakerphone to see, as she said, if she could “figure out what’s true and what’s not.”

  Maxie had shown up at some point and was talking quietly to Melissa in a corner of the den. Paul was watching the lieutenant intently as he always did when she was around. I think he wants to be just like McElone when he grows up.

  Liss didn’t look upset in that she wasn’t actually crying. She loves her father but is not blind to his faults, which gives me an extra case of the willies when she looks at me sometimes. She knows Steven is not a perfect man by any stretch. But the idea that Lieutenant McElone, whom Melissa greatly respects, might think Steven was responsible for the death of the man who had been in our house this morning was a lot for her to handle. Frankly I was annoyed that McElone was keeping me from my daughter for this phone call, but when Josh’s number had shown up on my cell phone, she insisted I answer it.

  Josh was fine, of course. I was relieved but hadn’t really thought he was in danger once I’d heard Steven had left. Trouble follows my ex-husband around; my boyfriend does his best to avoid it. It’s one of the reasons I’m with Josh and not Steven these days.

  “How did he manage to get out without you knowing it?” I asked Josh.

  “We came up and I showed him the couch, where he’d be sleeping. I went into the closet to get some sheets and a pillow, and he was gone when I got back. I’ll give the guy one thing: He’s quick.” You could practically hear Josh shake his head in wonder. I assumed he was wondering what made me marry that man to begin with. It was an excellent question.

  McElone, who was not trying to make her presence a secret, said, “Did he say anything about Maurice DuBois?”

  Josh took a second, although he’d heard the lieutenant’s voice just a few minutes ago. It’s disconcerting to hear two people, particularly of the same gender, on a speakerphone. I was hopeful he’d be able
to discriminate between my voice and the lieutenant’s, and luckily he came up just right.

  “Nothing really, Lieutenant,” Josh answered. “I tried asking him about what was going on with the software and all that, but he said it was something he didn’t want to discuss.”

  “Did he say where he’d been all day?” I asked. If McElone thought he had something to do with Overcoat’s death, it would have been during the time of day Steven was “running errands,” the time he’d told me to lie about if asked. I’d been asked, and I’d told the truth right down the line. Never ask a divorced person to do something even slightly inconvenient for his/her ex. That’s a rule to take with you.

  “I didn’t ask,” Josh said. “Of course at the time I didn’t know this guy was dead. Lieutenant McElone, are you sure Steven is a suspect in the killing? It seems a stretch.”

  “I didn’t say suspect,” McElone answered. “We’d like to ask him some questions, is all.” That’s what cops say when they mean “suspect.”

  Paul looked over at me. “Tracing those missing hours is the key to the murder,” he said. He sounded positively thrilled. Paul loves nothing better than investigation. I tried to give him a sharp look, but there was no point in upsetting McElone.

  Melissa stood up and walked past Mel, whose midsection I examined closely to be sure he was still breathing, to sit next to me (apparently we were okay again) and watch the proceedings.

  “Well, it never occurred to me to ask him,” Josh told McElone.

  “That’s okay,” the detective answered. “It’s not your responsibility. Did he give you any indication where he might have gone? Mention anybody he wanted to go see? Anything like that?”

  Josh seemed to think for a moment. “No,” he said finally, sounding disappointed. “Maybe he went out to get some food. He said he was hungry.” We’d had a lovely dinner Melissa had cooked, but Steven had not eaten any of it.

  I must have looked skeptical, because McElone asked, “You don’t believe him?”

  Her question startled me for a moment and I hesitated. Over the phone I heard Josh say, “I have no reason to lie about that.”

  “Oh no,” I said. “It’s not you I have trouble believing here. Just because Steven said he’s hungry doesn’t mean anything. If you asked his name, he’d lie to you out of habit.”

  McElone raised an eyebrow. Then she looked at Melissa, again wondering if she should bring this up in front of my daughter when the last time a sensitive question about Steven had clearly rattled Liss. But McElone is a professional and lets nothing stand in the way of her investigation.

  “Did you try to get in touch with him after he left here?” she asked. Maybe this was a new way of attacking the problem.

  “You’ve been here the whole time I knew about this Maurice guy getting shot in an alley,” I reminded her. “I haven’t had the chance to alert my ex that he should stay on the lam, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “Remember to whom you’re talking,” Paul said. He can admonish me about subject matter and grammar at the same time.

  “I’m asking if you wouldn’t mind texting your ex now to see how he answers,” the lieutenant answered. Not a hint of annoyance in her voice. Okay, maybe a hint.

  “Happy to,” I said. “Josh, I’m going to have to hang up on you.”

  “I was wondering when it would come to this,” he joked.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. You call me if The . . . if Steven comes back, okay?”

  Melissa caught the slip and curled her mouth a little, but said nothing.

  Josh agreed he’d call the lieutenant, then me if The Swine was foolish enough to show his face back at the apartment tonight. We ended the call and I looked at McElone.

  “What do you want me to say?” I asked.

  We decided I would pretend that everything was as we’d left it when Josh and Steven had gone. So I sent Steven a text that read “You get there okay?” I know that in the true texting spirit I should have sent “u get there ok,” but I just didn’t have it in me.

  No answer was quick to come. Melissa’s eyes grew more worried. Paul started pacing. Maxie, watching Liss, twitched her mouth back and forth trying to decide what she could do to cheer up my daughter as if that was her job.

  Mel just sat and stared out the back doors. He touched the side of his nose at one point, but that was about it for his participation or interest in the ongoing proceedings.

  McElone, who has never sat in my house, leaned against the doorjamb. It was the most blatant display of impatience and tension I’d seen her exhibit despite her clear discomfort with the ghosts in the house. Luckily they were being unobtrusive at the moment. From her point of view.

  “Maybe he is injured and needs some assistance,” Paul said, midpace. Melissa looked up in alarm, which McElone noted by looking around the ceiling, which is where people think ghosts are in any room. They’re usually not, but go tell people that. “I’m sorry, Melissa.” Paul doesn’t always think through what he’s saying when he dissects a case.

  “Do you think he’s in trouble?” Liss is very good at talking to the ghosts when appearing to address a living person. She’s been doing it since birth and I’ve been at it a few years. So I carry a Bluetooth headset with me when I go outside. In the house you’re on your own.

  “It’s pretty clear there’s some kind of trouble,” McElone said, “but I don’t know if there’s any danger. There’s a difference.”

  Paul, to whom the question was actually aimed, was now in “let’s not upset Melissa” mode. “I doubt it,” he said. “I was thinking of a car crash or something like that.”

  Liss’s eyes indicated Paul’s mode was not having its desired effect.

  “I’ve been through this kind of radio silence before,” I said to Melissa. “If your dad’s not answering, it’s because he doesn’t want to or hasn’t come up with the proper story to tell yet. Don’t worry.”

  That is the kind of remark that Liss would have simply nodded at and accepted two weeks earlier. Now she was in the throes of spending time with her father when he was trying to be charming and I can tell you from experience that is a powerful thing to overcome. So she clucked her teeth and turned away from me. “You just say stuff like that because of the divorce,” she said.

  McElone kept looking at the ceiling, but now I think it might have been because she was trying to find a safe spot to aim her gaze.

  Of all people, the one to break the tension for me was The Swine. My phone vibrated and I looked at his text message.

  It read, “Fine. Why?”

  I showed the message to McElone, who walked over from the door, and to Melissa, to prove to her that her father was alive and still being a jerk. She wasn’t entirely wrong about my behavior, but divorce is something you don’t really just put in the rearview mirror and leave at the side of the road. It sticks with you like Greek yogurt.

  Paul hovered over McElone’s shoulder as she read the text, which admittedly didn’t take long. “He’s suspicious,” he said. Paul has a talent for the obvious.

  “Tell him Maurice came by again and asked to see him,” McElone suggested.

  “Won’t that alert him something’s wrong if he knows Mr. DuBois is dead?” Melissa asked. She was trying to protect her father now.

  “Yes, but it will also alert us about whether he knows about the murder,” said the lieutenant. She pointed to my cell phone. “Go ahead.”

  So I did. I texted: “Your pal Maurice was here. Wants to know where you are.” And I sent it.

  I noticed everyone—except Mel—was closing ranks around me, looking over my shoulder at a phone that at the moment wasn’t doing anything.

  Even Maxie swooped down and glanced. “What’s with this guy?” she demanded. Patience is not one of Maxie’s virtues. Don’t ask me what they are unless I really have time to think. She
’s very good to Melissa. That’s one.

  At the moment, my daughter looked like she needed a hug, so I put my arm around her. She didn’t acknowledge it, but she didn’t move away, either. This wasn’t easy for her.

  Then my phone buzzed again and Steven’s text message came through. I actually closed my eyes for a moment before I looked at it.

  “When?”

  That wasn’t much. I looked at McElone, who nodded.

  “Right after you left,” I sent back. “Why?”

  This time the answer was swift and disturbing. Instead of a text message, the phone rang with Steven’s number in the caller ID. I didn’t look for approval from McElone and just accepted the call without putting it on speaker, which I’m guessing the lieutenant would have preferred but which would have made my ex-husband suspicious.

  He started talking even before I could say hello. “Who’s there with you?” he asked.

  Maxie, who was closest to my ear, said, “Uh-oh.” Melissa flinched a little and I tightened my free arm around her shoulder.

  “What?” Paul asked. Maxie didn’t answer him, probably because she likes knowing things others don’t.

  “Just Liss,” I said casually. I felt it was best not to mention the detective in the room who might suspect he was a killer, and the two ghosts were simply off-limits to any conversation I had with my ex. Mel was practically forgotten in his corner of the den. I checked again. He was breathing. “Why?”

  Steven’s voice was strained; it wasn’t like he was under pressure so much as he seemed to be trying to force the words out when they weren’t coming naturally. “You’re lying about Maurice and I need to know why.”

  “What do you mean, I’m lying about Maurice?” I could let McElone (and by extension Paul) know what was being said without giving away anyone’s presence in the room.

  “I mean I know for a fact that Maurice didn’t come to your house after I left there tonight, and you know it, too, so I’d like to know exactly why you’re lying to me about that. Alison, what’s going on there?”