“Gotcha,” he murmured, right into my face. “Sorry it had to be this way, kid.”
You know, I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed when it comes to crime and subterfuge, but I had to admit, I hadn’t seen that one coming. At all. My jaw dropped. I heard my startled gasp as if it was coming from someone else. I recoiled from his ghostly form. “What are you talking about?” I whispered. I had a bad, bad feeling.
“I needed you to get my boys here so they could get the money. I didn’t set out initially to have you killed, but I knew that Eddie would try to take you out after all your nosing around, and I figure that’s not a bad thing. What if you blow the whistle on my operation and Slade gets busted?” He shrugged. “But to be fair, I do owe you my thanks. So thank you. I’m sorry you have to die.”
I was speechless. I scrambled to my feet. That bastard. That flip-flop wearing jerkface creep. I had been tolerating him because I felt sorry for him, despite his criminal background. At first, I had just found him irritating and relentless, but I had actually grown a little fond of him. The betrayal was shocking. “Now that’s just cold,” I whispered.
He looked unmoved. “Business is business, kid. I can’t believe you survived getting hit by a car. That surprised me. You’re tougher than you look.”
I thought about the fact that I could be dead now and it would be all Cezar the B-List mobster’s fault, and I felt the blood drain from my face. Anger slammed into me.
“You’re a douchebag tool and I hate your ugly carpet. I hate your singing voice, I hate your stupid son—who is dating a woman twice his age, by the way. And I hate your swim trunks.” I backed up until I was against the far wall, not wanting him in my space, but wanting to keep an eye on his ghostly body. “Enjoy hell. Because clearly that’s where you’re going once my frozen and dehydrated corpse is found.”
He just waved his hand. “I don’t really believe in that stuff, heaven and hell. I mean, so far, I’m just hanging around doing whatever. Everyone up there is being nice to me. I don’t think I’m on the black list.”
“Maybe they’re reviewing your case files. This will send you over the edge.” I felt an overwhelming urge to spit in his face. I’ve never felt that way about anyone, but I wanted to send a blob right into his puffy mug. Except it would just go right through him because he was dead, so I refrained from wasting my saliva.
Being manipulated by a ghost is absolutely humiliating, let me tell you. He was right—I was gullible. But I’d rather be a decent human than a big, fat jerk like him.
“I’ve beat the rap before. Why should this be any different? Besides, my boy will be here soon I’m sure, and they’ll collect the money and take care of you, and my goal will be reached.”
“What boy?” That might be my only chance to escape. “How would anyone know to show up?”
“The gate will call the contact information for this unit when they realize your car is just sitting there. The contact is Slade.”
Fabulous. Sir Shithead was my would-be killer. I had to wonder if I could take him. Slade seemed like a lot of bluster, if I took him by surprise maybe I could run to the front office and escape. “Slade is probably too busy making out with his girlfriend, the Starbucks barista, who is forty-five if she’s a day,” I said, because I figured if I was going lights out I needed to at least kick Slade in the shins on the way down.
Cezar frowned. “Wait, what? What are you talking about?”
“I saw him kissing a blonde at Starbucks who is twice his age. He called her his girlfriend.”
“What was her name?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He was way too rude to introduce me.”
“Trixie works at Starbucks. Which location?”
I told him. He swore violently. “That’s my girlfriend! How could he do that to me?”
“Business may be business,” I said, “but at the same token, sex is sex. I’m sure she prefers his youthful studliness. Welcome to the world of first wives. Doesn’t feel good, does it?”
Normally I wouldn’t gloat quite so much, but he deserved it. I had actually felt sorry for him. I had tolerated his nonsense and presence for days on end. And the thanks I got was a slow death in this windowless box? Rude. Just so rude.
He made an incredibly offensive gesture. I kicked him in the groin, knowing my foot would go through him, purely to make a point. That felt good.
Cezar just looked at me like I was an idiot. “What was that for?”
“For setting me up! For letting me die in this storage unit.” I was breathing heavy and I pummeled his face with my good hand just for the hell of it.
He backed up like I was actually making impact. “You’re nuts. It’s nothing personal. You can’t take it that way.”
“Like Trixie banging your son isn’t personal?” I asked, just to taunt him. He didn’t seem to like my volley very much. He made a growling sound in the back of his throat. “I bet Slade doesn’t have a belly,” I added. “I bet he’s toned and firm and well-endowed and Trixie likes to lick his bare skin all night long.”
Hey, not exactly classy, but he deserved it, the potbellied punk. I leaned against the door and folded my arms over my chest, trying to contain my fists. My shoulder was throbbing from my punches and I needed to calm down or I might make the injury even worse.
“You’re a little bitch, you know that? Acting all high and mighty and prim and proper. You’re just a rag like every other woman I know.”
“Go sweat in the Schvitz!” I yelled. I wasn’t even sure what that meant, but I was so angry I couldn’t form coherent words.
I was about to crotch kick him again when without warning the door flew open and caught me totally off-guard. I stumbled backward into the parking lot and almost fell on my ass, but managed to keep myself upright. I whirled, terrified as to who it might be. It was Big Eddie. Damn it. That wasn’t helpful.
He gave a start when I fell out with a shriek. “What the hell are you doing in there?”
“Cezar set me up,” I breathed, inching away from him. “Please don’t kill me. Please don’t shoot me. I don’t know anything.” Not entirely true, but for the most part accurate. Then I stopped cold. “Wait, you didn’t lock me in here?” Eddie was the guy who had hit me with a car, after all. It just made sense that he would have been the one to trap me, wanting me dead, thinking I knew more than I did.
“Now why would I do that?” His eyes narrowed and he took a step toward me.
“I don’t know.” I had my keys in my pocket and I fumbled for them but managed to get them free. I ran in the opposite direction of Eddie, which sent me to the passenger side of my car. I managed to jump inside and lock the doors.
He pounded on the window. He didn’t look murderous, but he didn’t look thrilled either. I wasn’t sticking around to find out what he wanted to tell me, because I didn’t think he was going to recite me a love poem or offer a philosophical tidbit.
I just hit the gas and looped around the back of the lot and sped away. At the gate I momentarily panicked because I couldn’t remember the code. But once I realized Big Eddie wasn’t in hot pursuit of me, I took a deep breath, made sure my doors were locked, and plucked the code from my memory banks. It worked and as the gate lifted, I shuddered. My fingers were trembling and I had a hot taste in my mouth. Shivering from the cold, I turned the heat on and drove down the street until I found a gas station. I pulled in right by the door in case I needed witnesses around, and checked my phone.
My confinement had only been forty minutes. It felt like four thousand. I had a missed call from my grandmother and a call from Marner. I called him back and blurted out, “Cezar’s body is in his storage unit. I smell like dead guy.”
There was a pause and I could hear him breathing. As usual, when he spoke, he was calm and collected. “Where are you now?”
This was why I loved this man. He didn’t freak out or question what I was saying or parrot back my statement as a question. He cut to the chase. “I’m at a
gas station down the street on Triskett. I went there with a copy of the storage unit key and Cezar is in there and he’s been dead for days and days. Like a lot of days. Enough days to smell so very, horribly bad.” I felt like the scent was trapped in my nostrils. I leaned over and stuck the air freshener clipped to the back of my visor against my nose. It helped cut through the decomposition odor.
“Did you call the police?”
“No, because someone locked me in there with the body. I was stuck there for forty minutes and guess who showed up and opened the door? The guy who hit me with his car! So I just ran and jumped in my car and took off.”
“You need to go back and tell the office staff what you found and have them call the cops. You’re on surveillance, so I’m sure and it will look like you fled the scene.”
“I did flee the scene. The very scary scene.” I took my arm out the sling so I could stick my hand over the heater. Hopefully some warmth would stop my shaking. “I don’t want to go back.” I knew he was right, though.
“I can be there in ten minutes. Just stay in the office, okay?”
Fine. Sure. Whatever. “Okay.” I retrieved my stomach from my throat and drove back, my shoulder screaming.
Fortunately, when I went into the office, I could see there was a computer monitor displaying all the rows of the facility. Cezar was right, you couldn’t see the very end where his unit was located, but I didn’t see any evidence of Big Eddie. “Hi, can you call the police?” I asked, sounding as frazzled as I felt. “I was dropping something in a unit for a friend and I found a dead body.”
The woman behind the desk looked at me with wide eyes. “What? Didn’t you just leave? Jack was asking me about you. He said he’s never seen you go back to that unit before.”
I had no idea who Jack was or why he was so nosy, but God love him for paying attention. “I did leave. I got scared, but I called my boyfriend and he said I needed to come back and tell you to call the police.”
She turned her head and yelled into the room behind her. “Jack, get out here!”
I decided not to mention being trapped in there. I would deal with that later. Right now I wanted to leave, shower, and figure out how to block a ghost. There was no way I was letting that bastard Cezar Wozniak into my house ever again.
Sirens were heard within two minutes and I watched the monitors like a hawk, terrified Eddie would pop up and kidnap me before the cops arrived. But there was no sign of him. “Did a guy leave right after me?” I asked. “About five-feet-eleven-inches tall, receding hairline, thick lips? Wearing a suit.”
“Yeah, he left about two minutes after you.”
That was a very specific approximation. If Eddie had left that quickly had he even seen Cezar’s body? I realized there was no way he could have missed the smell. He must have seen the body and beat it out of there so as not to be the one who found him. But he had to realize that the office kept electronic records of everyone’s comings and goings. That would be the first thing the police would do—see who had been in and out for the unit over the past week.
But I wasn’t dealing with the world’s most brilliant minds. And truthfully, what had I done? Bolted. It made me think Eddie wasn’t the killer, because he wouldn’t have come back to the unit knowing the body was there. Maybe Trixie had killed Cezar. I honestly didn’t even care at this point. Cezar was a Benedict Arnold in my book. If he had back-stabbed me, who knew what he had going on in his real life, pre-death? Shady, with a capital S.
* * *
“So why did you come here?” the detective asked me for the third time.
“My client Cezar Wozniak told me last week he had staging items here for me to use on his lake house. This is the first chance I’ve had to see if there were any furniture pieces I could use. But there were only TVs. And Mr. Wozniak, dead.” I was sipping a cup of coffee and repeatedly inhaling the aromatic steam. Marner was standing next to me, gnawing on his thumbnail. He was going to draw blood if he tore any deeper. He looked annoyed.
“Okay. You’re free to go. We’ll let you know if we have any other questions.”
I was sure they would. I had been here, done this before. The only thing on my side was that Cezar had been up to his eyeballs in illegal activities, and a dead guy had been found with his wallet already.
‘Thanks.” I stood up and set my coffee down on the counter where the Keurig was. I forced my arm back into the sling again to give my shoulder a break.
“I’ll carry your coffee,” Marner said. “Text me as soon as you get home.” He followed me to my car. “You shouldn’t even be driving, you know, for at least a couple of days.”
“How am I supposed to get around?”
“Call me. Call an Uber. Have Alyssa pick you up. Stop being stubborn.”
“I’ve never really thought of myself as stubborn.” I didn’t. Neurotic, sure. Out of shape, definitely. But not stubborn, according to the precise definition. “The doctor didn’t say I couldn’t drive.”
He brushed my hair back off my forehead. “You’re going to be the death of me, you know that?”
“I sincerely hope not.” I had enough issues with guilt. I didn’t need that on my conscience too.
Besides, I would miss him. I felt overwhelmed by the urge to cuddle in his muscular arms, but I restrained myself. Our relationship was private. As private as it could be with ghosts popping in and out.
He opened my car door, bent in and set the coffee cup down in the holder. “Don’t drink and drive,” he admonished. “I’m serious.”
“Yes, sir. I promise to be good.”
Marner gave me a grin. “Don’t be too good. At least not when I come over later.”
That sounded like a promising distraction from the day’s events. “One naughty home stager coming up.” I made my voice as breathy as possible. “Put It Where?” I asked him, seductively.
“I know exactly where to put it.” His eyes had darkened and his nostrils flared. “Shit, I have to go before I do something totally unprofessional.” He took a step away from me and made a sound in the back of his throat. “Hold that thought.”
I did. Except when I got home, Cezar was lounging on my couch, his belly saluting the ceiling, a smirk on his face.
“Get out,” I told him. “I’m not helping you, so go to hell. Literally.” Where were the Ghostbusters when you needed them? I wanted him banished.
“Chill out. You’re not dead, are you? You should be happy you’re alive.”
Dropping my purse on the coffee table I sat down in the easy chair and unzipped my boots. My feet needed to breathe. “I’ll be happier when I never have to see you again, Brutus.”
“If you could see your face, it’s hilarious right now. Listen, I just need you to do one last thing for me.”
“I can’t punch you in the dick. I’ve tried.”
He laughed. “You’re getting sassier by the day. It’s a good look on you, kid. You should try that with your boyfriend.” He sat up. “I gotta confess, I popped in one time, and listen, kid, you might want to step up the kink a notch or two. The guy’s a cop, he’s going to get bored with what you’re offering.”
If it were possible to explode from deep-seated, raw, elemental anger, I would have right then and there. The level of intrusion and outrageousness made me want to buy a ticket to the slow burn of his soul in hell. I wanted an unlimited pass.
My outrage was so profound, I pointed at him and yelled, “Get out of my house!” and to my surprise, he disappeared.
Poof. One Cezar gone. The only thing remaining was a slight noxious odor, like the water treatment plant at the height of summer.
I fell back into the chair, astonished. Then with pure satisfaction, I said, “Suck it, Wozniak.”
Chapter Twelve
My grandmother was probably somewhere around five-one or five-two before she started shrinking, so now she hovers in the vicinity of four-feet-ten-inches tall. She looks sweet and harmless, but she has a tongue like a viper, a tast
e for whiskey, and a raunchy sense of humor that makes my mother cringe. I adore her. So the next day I called her and picked her up for an ice cream outing and to go see a psychic/medium to help me figure out how to banish Cezar permanently.
Being Irish, Grandma Burke had a healthy respect for all things paranormal. I knew if I told her I had a pesky spirit hanging around she’d be on board.
“How have you been?” I asked her, as we sat down in Mitchell’s ice cream parlor with our sundaes. Yum. Caramel sauce on local ice cream. Couldn’t get any better than that. Oh wait, yes it could. Add Spanish peanuts.
Grandma had a scoop of chocolate with a halo of whipped cream on it. She plucked her cherry off and dangled it in the air. She’d just gotten a perm this week and her hair was tight and immobile. I was dreading the day she left us, but I figured we had a few years still.
“I’ve been bleaching the altar lace for the church. Did a cross stitch for your sister’s new baby. Had lunch with the girls. The usual. My corns are bothering me, but that’s how it goes.”
“The girls” were her group of widow friends. They had all outlived their husbands by a decade or more, and liked to go gambling together at the casino downtown. “Nice. Well, aside from the corns. I’m going to see Jen in February.”
“How’s the man?” she asked, her expression far too gleeful. “Why don’t you bring Jake around the house?”
Because by the house she meant my parents’ house, which was where she lived, and I didn’t want my mother to have a crack at Marner. She might scare him off with her interrogation tactics. “Because Mom will grill him.” I could be honest with my grandmother. I shoved another mouthful of ice cream past my lips.
The dairy was compensation for a lack of sexy times the night before. Marner and I had lost the vibe, given what Cezar had said. There was no telling when the liar might decide to crash our private party.
Once Upon A Ghost: Murder By Design (Book 3) Page 13
