by Becky Durfee
Jenny walked down the hall, which was covered with framed photographs of people Jenny assumed to be the Denton’s family and friends. Although she ordinarily would have enjoyed looking at those, she ignored the images, focusing instead on finding Zack and Rob. They were in one of the bedrooms, which had been converted into an office.
“Did you have any luck?” Zack asked when she entered the room.
Feeling sad, Jenny nodded slowly.
“What did you find out?”
“It turns out I didn’t need Kyle Buchanan’s help after all. This vision definitely came from Nate Minnick, the young kid next door.”
“So he is dead,” Zack said as more of a statement than a question.
“Yes. He’s dead and he’s innocent.”
“What?” Rob asked with dismay.
Jenny let out a deep exhale. “He didn’t do it. He stumbled across Stella after she’d already been stabbed.”
Zack looked solemn. “But what about him running from the scene with the knife? And the confession?”
“The confession I don’t know about,” Jenny said, “but I distinctly saw him rush into the room when he saw Stella bleeding on the floor. He picked up the knife and looked at it with confusion; I could sense that he had a difficult time processing what was going on. But then he turned his attention to helping Stella, and he forgot he had the knife in his hand. I imagine he took the knife with him when he ran out of the house.”
“Where was he going? Why didn’t he call 9-1-1 from Stella’s house?” Zack asked.
Jenny shook her head. “Panic, I guess? I’m not sure. He was just a kid, remember. But according to Willy Sanders, Nate ran out of Stella’s place—covered in blood and carrying a knife—and went back into his own house. That was perceived as him fleeing the scene, when in reality it was a huge misconception.” She pointed her finger in Rob’s direction. “Speaking of Willy Sanders, I’m under the impression he still lives next door.”
“He does,” Rob replied.
“Can you tell me a little bit about him?” Jenny asked. “Would he have made a reliable witness?”
The sincerity in Rob’s voice was remarkable. “Willy Sanders is one of the nicest people you could ever meet. He would never have done anything to throw off an investigation. If he said he saw that kid running out of the house with a knife in his hand, then he saw that kid running out of the house with a knife in his hand.”
Jenny smiled. “You sound positive about that.”
“There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
“Okay, so I guess Nate ran out of the house and took the knife with him.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But I still know he didn’t do it.”
“Then why did he confess?” Zack asked.
Once again, Jenny shook her head. “I can’t answer that.”
“Well,” Zack said, “I guess now we know why his spirit lingers.”
Jenny nodded sadly. “He wants to be exonerated.”
“What strikes me,” Rob began, “is that if this kid didn’t do it, then the person who committed a murder in this very house is still on the loose.”
After a long moment of silence, Zack clapped his hands together and said, “Well, then, let’s see what we can do to change that.”
Rob leaned back in his chair and smiled. “Well, feel free to come by the house again if you need to. I have to admit, I find this whole thing fascinating.”
“Thanks,” Jenny replied. “We just might take you up on that.” Trying to choke down her nerves she added, “But we were actually thinking we might offer you up a little service.”
Rob looked curious. “What’s that?”
“Well,” Jenny began, “let me start out by saying that Zack and I do this business because I was left a large inheritance by my first client, with the stipulation that I use the money to do good things for people. As you probably can guess, we won’t get paid for clearing Nate Minnick’s name—we’re just doing it so his soul can be put at ease.” She cleared her throat nervously. “But sometimes we do other nice things with the money…for instance, we paid for treatment for a guy with addiction issues, and Zack fixed up his house so he could sell it for a profit once he got out of rehab.” Jenny hated the uncertainty in her voice; she wished she could have been speaking confidently. “And, um, the last time we were here, we did notice that your house isn’t exactly conducive to life in a wheelchair...and we were wondering if you would allow us to make some adjustments to it to make your life a little easier.”
Rob’s face remained blank, leading Jenny to wonder if she’d overstepped her bounds. Eventually, he simply said, “What kind of adjustments?”
“Well, I have a few ideas,” Zack began, “if you wouldn’t mind following me so I can show you.”
Zack and Rob toured the house while Jenny tagged along, Zack pointing out all of the changes he’d make. Besides the chairlift and the hardwood floors, he also suggested enlarging the door openings and making modifications to the kitchen, where the current island made maneuvering the wheelchair difficult. He mentioned redesigning the master bathroom to include an accessible shower, as well as putting in a larger, lower mirror and a pedestal sink.
“You can do all of this?” Rob asked.
“I used to work construction before this job. Have you ever heard of Larrabee Homes?”
Rob shot a skeptical glance in Zack’s direction. “Yeah, I’ve heard of them. They make all of those mansions, don’t they?”
“Yup,” Zack replied, “and my name is Zack Larrabee.”
“Okay,” Rob said, shaking his head as if to make sense of the situation, “if you do make all of those fixes, do you know how much that’s going to cost? The chairlift alone will be a couple thousand; we’ve looked into that already.”
“It’s really not an issue,” Jenny said. “Consider it a payment for letting us use your house for readings.”
Rob’s expression slowly grew into a smile. “I swear I must have a guardian angel or something. Ever since the accident, I have been convinced that someone’s watching out for me up there, and now two complete strangers have just rung my doorbell and offered to modify my house for me.” He finally looked like he was on board with the idea. “This is just amazing.”
“Do you mind if I ask what happened in the accident?” Zack asked. While Jenny had been thinking it, she didn’t have the courage to bring it up the way Zack just did.
“No, not at all. It was a car accident. I was driving on the highway late one night, and I fell asleep at the wheel. The car drifted off the road and hit a tree.” He once again shook his head, appearing to marvel at his luck. “When I consider how many ways this thing could have unfolded, I realize how fortunate I am that I didn’t kill anybody, including myself. I was going about sixty-five miles an hour. You should have seen the car. It’s a miracle that I even survived.”
Jenny smiled, acknowledging that Rob must have been a very kind-hearted man. She imagined that many people in his shoes would have felt victimized, but he considered himself lucky. He was definitely a glass-half-full kind of guy.
“I did receive a spinal cord injury, but it was incomplete.”
“What does that mean?” Jenny asked.
“It means it didn’t fully paralyze me. I still have some use of my legs, although it is limited. I use the wheelchair because it’s easier and I can get around faster. I’ve got two kids that go a million miles an hour; I can’t afford to be slow.”
Jenny giggled. “No, I imagine you can’t.”
Zack chimed in, “I assume this was your house before the accident and you didn’t want to move?”
“Exactly. Didn’t want to move. Couldn’t afford to move. Didn’t have time to think about it. You name it. For the sake of the girls, we wanted to stay put—they’d been through enough by just watching their father suffer—they didn’t need to pack up and move to a new home. But we also had a ton of medical bills that the insurance didn’t fully cover. We ended up taking out a second mortgag
e on the house, and we used that money to pay off the medical bills and buy an adapted van so I can still drive. We figured we’d eventually make the house more livable for me, but so far we haven’t been able to find the money.”
“Well,” Jenny said with a smile, “thanks to Elanor Whitby, now you have.”
While Zack and Rob started to make plans for the renovation, Jenny snuck out to the neighbor’s house, hoping she could get the chance to talk to Willy Sanders. She rang the doorbell several times, but nobody came to the door. From the porch, she spun around and looked at Rob’s house, noting the relatively small yards had given Willy a good vantage point on the day of the murder. If his character was as solid as Rob suggested it was, there would have been no question about what had transpired that day.
After venturing back to Rob’s, Jenny discovered the men were still talking logistics; she found herself wishing she had driven separately. Quickly bored by discussions of hardwood and kitchen layouts, she walked down the hall and looked at the myriad of framed photographs on the wall. She recognized some of the people as being the Dentons, but still other people looked as if they were unrelated. An older, African-American couple graced a lot of the shots; based on their frequency, she imagined they were among the Denton’s best friends.
Jenny smiled as she looked as the pictures; this family seemed to value the people in their lives, which added to the affinity she felt for them.
Once she had examined every picture twice, she walked out into the living room and took a seat on the couch. While she wasn’t having another vision, she did picture Stella lying on the floor, looking helpless and terrified. The look on her face implied that she knew she was going to die. Jenny shuddered at the thought.
Her phone rang, causing her to jump. Looking at the caller, she saw it was Kyle Buchanan, the man whose morning she’d just wasted.
“He’s dead,” Jenny said instead of hello. “I figured that out. I should have called you and let you know to stop looking.”
“Wow,” he replied, “that was quite an unexpected greeting.” His voice sounded pleasant. “What gave it away?”
“If I tell you, you probably won’t believe me.”
“Try me. It can’t be any worse than the bomb you laid on me this morning, my psychic friend.”
Jenny snickered with defeat. “I saw a vision, and based on the facts of the case, I know it had to have been through Nate’s eyes. I’d only be able to see that if Nate is dead.”
“What, exactly, did you see?”
Her tone reflected her sadness. “I saw evidence that he didn’t murder his neighbor, which was what he went to jail for.” Jenny explained the story to Kyle, who hung on her every word. “It seems he’s contacting me so I can clear his name, although I do wish he was alive so he could enjoy his freedom once I do…if I do.”
“Well, it turns out he wasn’t incarcerated very long,” Kyle noted. “He died back in 1991, after only three years in jail.”
“What?” Jenny exclaimed with disbelief. “He was only twenty-one years old then.”
“I know. It’s crazy.”
“What did he die of, do you know?”
“According to the coroner’s report, it was a heart attack.”
“A heart attack?” Jenny couldn’t believe it. “At twenty-one?”
“It seems he had a congenital heart defect. Sadly, a long and prosperous life was not in the cards for this young man.”
The happiness that Jenny had felt for Rob just a few moments earlier was gone, replaced instead by an overwhelming sense of melancholy. How could life have been so unfair to some people? “Mr. Buchanan,” Jenny began, “I want you to do a few more things for me, if you don’t mind.”
“I’m actually not very busy right now, so I’d appreciate the work. What is it you have in mind?”
“Well, I was wondering if you could look into the details of Stella Jorgenson’s murder. If the wrong guy went to jail, that means her killer is still roaming the street.”
“I can do that, sure.”
“And another thing,” Jenny continued, “I’m wondering if you’d be able to find Nate Minnick’s parents…”
Chapter 5
Jenny sat across the kitchen table from Ellen while Zack was at the home improvement store. With Andy at work, Ellen was able to speak freely. “I’m sorry you have to witness the bickering between Zack and his father.” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “I’m used to it by now, but it must be very uncomfortable for you.”
After taking a sip of water, Jenny said, “Well, I will admit Zack warned me about it, so I had plenty of advanced notice.”
Ellen seemed to ignore her comment. “I swear, I don’t know what it is with those two. They’ve been going at it for decades, and if you ask each of them, they’ll say it’s the other’s fault.”
“It’s really been like this for decades?”
Ellen nodded emphatically. “Ever since Zack was a child.” She let out a little chuckle as she recalled a memory. “He was always the kind of kid who did the opposite of what everybody said. If Andy said left, Zack went right—and boy did it ever infuriate Andy. Disproportionately so, I think. And then of course he’d yell at Zack—who, in turn, made doubly sure to defy his father the next time. It’s been a downward spiral ever since.”
Jenny looked at her sympathetically. “It must drive you crazy.”
“It does, and I hate the fact that it made me miss your wedding.”
Suddenly, Jenny felt selfish. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, everybody missed our wedding. We got married in a judge’s chambers in the county courthouse.” She bit her lip. “We needed to have a court employee be our witness.”
“Why so small?” Ellen asked without judgment. “Didn’t you want your family there?”
Jenny shrugged. “My mom was there.” If she could have sucked those words back in, she would have. “But she lives with us,” she added quickly, hoping that explained why her mom was present but Ellen wasn’t.
“She lives with you?”
“Well, kind of. She lives in the basement apartment.” Jenny repositioned herself as she began the explanation. “My father died recently…well, the man who raised me did.” She held up her hands to start over. “I have two fathers—the one who created me and the one who raised me. It’s a long story, but the man who raised me died recently, and my mother was struggling to live in their house alone. The memories of him haunted her. Then I found out I was pregnant, which threatened to pose a problem, logistically speaking. I often feel pulls at random times, and I have to just drop everything and go where they take me. Obviously, I can’t leave a baby home alone while I follow the direction of a spirit.”
“Couldn’t Zack stay home with the baby?”
“He could,” Jenny replied, “but he likes to accompany me on those trips, especially at night. He feels it isn’t safe for me to venture out in the middle of the night alone.”
“And I agree with him,” Ellen said in a maternal tone.
“So,” Jenny continued, “we figured my mother could move into the basement apartment—that would solve both problems at once. Well, three problems, actually. My mother got out of the house that contained all the memories of my father; I have a permanent babysitter living right in my home, and my brother and his family moved into my mom’s old house. He had been renting, and the landlord had told him he needed to find a new place to live without a whole lot of notice.” Jenny smiled. “It actually worked out perfectly for everybody.”
“It sounds like it did,” Ellen agreed, “but I’m sorry to hear about your father.”
Jenny lowered her eyes. “Thanks.”
“What about the other man—the one who created you. Are you in contact with him?”
“I am now. Honestly, I didn’t even know he existed until recently. It turns out he also has psychic ability—it runs in his family—so there’s a chance you might end up with a psychic grandchild.”
Ellen looked impre
ssed. “Now, wouldn’t that be something?”
At that moment Zack walked through the front door with a look of accomplishment on his face.
“Check you out,” Jenny exclaimed as he approached. “This looks promising.”
Zack’s walk was more of a dance as he sauntered down the hall. “I just submitted some plans to the county for the ramp in the front of the house, and I have a shipment of hardwood flooring arriving at Rob’s place sometime tomorrow between ten and two.”
“Wow, you’re on fire,” Jenny remarked. “But here’s a question…how do you plan to single-handedly put in an entire house worth’s of hardwood flooring and build a handicapped ramp and widen doorways and remove a kitchen island and remodel a bathroom in a matter of days?”
“The answer is: I don’t.” Zack touched the tip of Jenny’s nose before reaching down and giving her a kiss. “I’ve summoned the help of some of Larrabee Custom Home’s finest reject contractors.”
Jenny furrowed her brow. “What exactly constitutes a fine reject contractor?”
Zack sat at the table with Jenny and Ellen. “Someone who does perfectly acceptable work but my father fired because he’s too damn finicky.”
“Zachary Ryan,” Ellen scolded, “stop talking like that about your father.”
“Sorry,” Zack said, turning back to Jenny. “He’s too darn finicky.”
“Honestly,” Ellen muttered as she shook her head. Jenny felt badly for Zack’s mom.
Zack continued without batting an eye. “I’ve got a decent floor guy lined up, and a drywall guy named Bill can make the doorways bigger.”
Ellen raised an eyebrow at her son. “Why don’t you just ask your father to help you? He’s more than qualified, and I’m sure he’d enjoy doing some charitable work.”
“So he can constantly tell me that I’m doing everything wrong? No, thank you. I’ll stick with the land of misfit contractors.”
