1 The Ghost in the Basement

by SUE FINEMAN

  Donovan spoke with the doctor, who said that was nonsense. Women gave birth all the time. If the baby grew too big for Maggie’s small frame, she’d have a C-section when the time came, but he didn’t think it would be necessary. And it wasn’t. Maggie was young and healthy. But Eleanor babied Maggie during the entire pregnancy, and when the baby came, all her attention was on Maggie. She was disappointed that the baby was a boy, but not too disappointed, since she insisted on naming him William, after Maggie’s father.

  The two women shut Donovan out, except when they wanted someone to yell at and blame for Maggie’s discomfort. Eleanor told Donovan since he was the one who wanted a baby, he could take care of it. Maggie needed time to recuperate from her ordeal, an ordeal that, according to Eleanor, she’d never fully recovered from. Eleanor twisted Maggie’s mind with her wild accusations, until Maggie thought of Donovan and her own baby as her enemies.

  His mind was still on the past when he rounded the corner onto Livingston Avenue and saw Hannah sitting in the front porch swing. She had the porch light on for him. Seeing her there lifted his spirits, as it always did. Slowing his pace to a walk, he let the memories of the past fall off him. They dropped to the sidewalk behind him, one by one. Each step pulled him away from the past and toward the house Sonny had insisted he live in with Hannah, the house that felt more like home every day he lived there, and the woman who made it a home.

  She looked over and their eyes met. A slow smile brightened her face and he knew she’d been sitting there waiting for him.

  Billy’s words echoed in Donovan’s mind as he sat in the swing beside her. Hannah wouldn’t cost much. She wouldn’t care if he had no money and no home to offer her, but he wasn’t just broke. He was in a hole, and he didn’t want to pull her in there with him.

  She stood and pulled him to his feet. “It’s too cold to sit out here.”

  “Then why were you out here?”

  “I was waiting for you.” The sound of her soft voice crept inside him and stirred his body. He wanted to take her upstairs and make slow, sweet love to her.

  He gazed into her eyes. They were dark gray tonight, almost black in this light. Without another word, he threaded his hand through her hair and leaned down for a long, slow kiss.

  “You’re cold. Come inside and I’ll warm you up.”

  He wasn’t sure what she had in mind until she walked into the bathroom upstairs and turned on the shower. He spotted two robes hanging on the back of the bathroom door. So this was to be a shower for two.

  She lit the candles on the back of the sink and turned out the light. And then they began undressing each other, one piece at a time, as the bathroom filled with steam. He stepped in first, and she followed, sliding her wet, slippery body against his and lifting her chin for a kiss that left his heart pounding and his body fully aroused. “This is better than kissing in the rain.” Better than anything he’d ever shared with another woman.

  Using strawberry scented shampoo, she lathered his hair and body. His erection strained and throbbed when she touched it, but they weren’t finished in the shower. Not yet. It was his turn to wash her, to explore her body as she’d explored his, to rub and lather and kiss. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this turned on. Maybe he never had.

  Minutes later, dried and wrapped in warm robes, they walked across the hall to his bedroom, where he grabbed the box of condoms he’d bought a few days ago. He hadn’t needed them for years, not since Billy was about two, the last time Maggie had let him touch her.

  “A whole box?” she whispered.

  He felt his face pull into a smile. “It’s a small box.”

  She laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent tingles through his body. They stopped in his groin and turned into a need so strong he couldn’t wait for her any longer. Pushing the door closed, he unwrapped a little package and rolled on the condom. Hannah was already on the bed, her robe open. He lowered himself to the bed beside her and kissed her not just with his lips, but with his body and soul. Her loving hands caressed his chest and shoulders as he nuzzled into her full breasts. She was already wet when he threaded his fingers through the thatch of black hair at the bottom of her belly and pushed his thumb inside her. She came quick and hard, and he held her until her spasms stopped. And then she guided him inside her tight, slippery sheath and wrapped her legs around him to take him deeper. It was all he could do to hold himself back as he pounded inside her, but he wanted this to be about pleasing her. He waited until he felt her go over the edge again before he let himself go.

  Hannah clutched Donovan’s strong body and held on until her head stopped spinning and she could breathe again. Donovan Kane wasn’t just Prince Charming, he was a magnificent lover. Her lover. “You’re more than charming,” she whispered.

  His low, deep laughter tickled her ear. “And you’re more than pretty. You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. My woman,” he whispered, pulling her tightly against him and rolling them over until she was on top.

  Gazing down at his face, Hannah knew without a doubt she was in love, and this time it wasn’t about security or having someone to belong with. She adored this man, his character, his sense of responsibility, his love for his family. And his strong, sexy body.

  She’d never felt this satisfied or content with Trevor.

  Donovan curled his body around Hannah’s and fell asleep. The aching loneliness was gone, washed away in the shower he’d shared with Hannah and in the intimate expression of their love.

  He slept better than he had in years and woke with Hannah rubbing his arm. “Donovan, your phone is ringing.”

  He groped the nightstand. “Where is it?”

  “In the bathroom, I think.”

  He found it in his jacket pocket, on the bathroom floor with his other clothes. It stopped ringing before he could answer it, but it started again almost immediately.

  “Yeah, Donovan.”

  “Are you awake?” asked Carson.

  “Almost. What’s up?”

  “We raided a party last night at Rainbow’s.”

  “Okay.” Donovan rubbed his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Cordelli was there with Monique Maxwell. Isn’t that Hannah’s mother?”

  “Yeah. Did you arrest her?”

  “We hauled everyone in, booked three prostitutes, and then Chief Vittore called. He said Cordelli was there undercover. The chief ordered us to release everyone. We have to do something about this, Donovan. I feel like going to the press right now.”

  “Document it. Did anyone get pictures, videotape, mug shots, fingerprints?”

  “Damn right we did. Perkins snuck in and videotaped the party before they knew we were there. He wore a wire. Cordelli threatened Perkins, said he’d have his job for this.”

  “What about Jalinski and Joseph? Were they there?”

  “No, we had some uniforms with us. Lots of witnesses.”

  “Was Tony Porcini there?”

  “No, but his sons were, both of them.”

  Wide awake now, Donovan was livid. How in the hell did anyone expect them to do their jobs when the chief of police had an agenda of his own? People called Rainbow’s place Uncle Tony’s Cat House, and it was. No one was allowed to arrest any of her girls or her customers.

  “Coke in the bathrooms,” said Carson, “and the place reeked of pot. We found three bedrooms in use and men waiting in line. One guy said he already gave Rainbow his money and didn’t get what he paid for. A couple of half-dressed underage girls from Columbus were in the midst of a strip dance. We called their parents to come and get them. Cordelli said we were pissed because we weren’t invited.”

  “Yeah, right.” Idiot. “We don’t need that kind of stuff going on in River Valley.” Definitely not in his town.

  One way or another, Donovan intended to put a stop to it.

  After breakfast, Donovan drove to the station to find out more about the raid on the house he and his men had been wa
tching off and on for months. It was a house owned by a woman who ran a string of prostitutes, a woman who was consistently protected by the mayor and the chief of police.

  Peterson walked into Donovan’s office and pushed the door closed. Donovan asked for details, and Peterson gave them. Snoots, a local drug pusher, had supplied enough stuff to get the whole city high, and men were paying Rainbow five hundred a pop for sex with her girls.

  “Who hosted the party?”

  “Vinnie Porcini, who else?”

  “Why didn’t someone call me?”

  “Because you’re taking time off, and because one of the main players was Monique Maxwell, or whatever she’s calling herself these days. We found three sets of ID in her purse and several credit cards that didn’t belong to her, and then the chief stuck his nose into it and we lost everyone. He said it was a private party and we had no right to arrest anyone.”

  “Monique left with Cordelli?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She left all her luggage at my house, but she didn’t come back there.”

  “From the looks of the dress and jewelry she was wearing, she can afford to buy new luggage and everything that goes in it.”

  Had Monique used someone else’s credit card to buy clothes? She supposedly had no money of her own, although Donovan found that hard to believe.

  What would Hannah do if he arrested her mother? If ever there was a conflict of interest, this was it, and the only way around it was to have one of his men arrest Monique when she came back to the house. Only if she didn’t have those credit cards on her by then, they could be in for a charge of false arrest.

  Then again, there were the ghosts. They didn’t like Monique, and they might take the problem off his hands. He wasn’t sure what they’d do or what they were capable of doing, but he knew they didn’t want Monique in the house.

  “If she comes back to the house I’ll sic Andrew and Charity on her.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “He’s the victim buried in the basement, and she’s Hannah’s great-grandmother. Sonny called them the ‘wandering spirits.’”

  Peterson gave Donovan a funny look. “You believe in all that crap?”

  “I do now. Hannah saw Andrew in a vision. She said the back of his head was smashed in, and he was wearing an old-fashioned shirt with no collar and leather suspenders. Does that sound familiar?”

  “You told her.”

  “I didn’t tell her anything. In another vision, she saw him walk. She said he had a slight limp, but he was strong and healthy. His hair was longish and wavy. Brown hair and eyes. Anything else you want to know?”

  “She get a name?”

  “Just Andrew so far, but she’s working her way through that diary we found in the false ceiling upstairs. If that doesn’t work, we’ll ask Andrew.”

  “Yeah, right,” Peterson muttered.

  Donovan stood to leave. “Next time you have a few minutes, would you do a background check on Monique Maxwell?”

  “That I can do. Just don’t ask me to talk to your ghosts.”

  Peterson wouldn’t, but Hannah had started talking to them. What could ghosts see and hear? After the night of hot sex he’d had with Hannah, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go there.

  <>

  Monique didn’t return to the house that night, and aside from the bags piled in the living room and the stench of her perfume, there was no sign she’d ever been there. Hannah didn’t mention her, and no one else did either. Donovan didn’t care where she was, as long as she wasn’t here.

  Trevor stayed mostly in the attic. He came downstairs for meals, took a turn at doing the dishes, ran the vacuum cleaner when asked, and helped with the work on the house. Aside from setting another place at the table at mealtime, Hannah ignored his presence.

  At breakfast, Trevor asked who the guy was with the long hair, wrinkled clothes, and suspenders. Donovan glanced at Hannah, and asked Trevor, “What else did you notice about him?”

  “He has a little limp, and he inspects the work I do on the house.” He asked Pop, “Who is he?”

  Pop cleared his throat and took another sip of his coffee, but he didn’t answer the question. Hannah did. “That’s Andrew. He was killed in that bedroom with the hole in the floor. He’s the one we found buried in the basement.”

  Nothing moved but Trevor’s eyes, which had grown huge. “Are you telling me this house is haunted?”

  “Did you see Charity, too? She’s a tiny little woman wearing a long blue dress, and she has her hair piled on top of her head. That other room by the hidden staircase was her bedroom.”

  “I didn’t see her, but I heard some woman calling for Andrew. Who is she?”

  “Charity was my great-grandmother. She died fifty years ago, give or take.”

  Donovan pushed his empty plate back. “Tell me about Andrew’s limp.”

  “There’s something wrong with his right foot.”

  “I saw him limp in my vision,” said Hannah. “It’s not pronounced, and I didn’t see his feet, but he has a definite hitch in his walk. Donovan, did the lab people find—”

  “A foot deformity. It probably kept him out of the war.”

  “What war?” Trevor asked.

  “World War I,” said Pop. “The war to end all wars.”

  Trevor rubbed his arms and shivered. “I can’t believe I’m living in a haunted house.”

  Hannah stared at him. “You don’t have to live here, Trevor. No one invited you to live here.”

  Trevor didn’t respond. Looking at the set of Hannah’s jaw, Donovan knew if Trevor got in an argument with her right now, he’d be gone by bedtime.

  “I saw a lady,” said Billy. “Sometimes she stands in the door after I go to bed.”

  “No kidding?” Hannah dropped her hands to the table. “What does she do?”

  “She just stands there. She’s not scary or anything. Is she a ghost?”

  Billy had no trace of fear on his face. He’d accepted Sonny’s wandering spirits as he’d accepted Trevor. Andrew inspected the work on the house and Charity watched over Billy. Maybe their spirits were earth-bound until the murder was solved. Donovan wasn’t entirely comfortable having them in the house, but they seemed harmless enough. Sonny wouldn’t have asked them to live here if there was any danger.

  Pop sipped his coffee. “I wonder if Sonny and Virginia are still here.”

  At that moment, the grandfather’s clock in the living room chimed. Hannah gasped. Donovan and Hannah had both tinkered with the clock and couldn’t get it to work.

  He walked to the living room with Hannah. The clock was not only ticking, it was set to the right time. “I’ll be damned. Thanks, Sonny.”

  Virginia wouldn’t have gone on without Sonny, so she was here, too. Donovan and Pop were with Sonny when Virginia passed on. The last thing she said to Sonny was she loved him and she’d be waiting for him on the other side. She didn’t have to wait long. The dirt was still fresh on her grave when they buried Sonny beside her.

  Hannah’s eyes filled with tears, and he knew she was feeling guilty for not being here when they were so sick. He hugged her and rubbed her back. “They understand, Hannah.”

  “Why didn’t Monique tell me the truth? I should have been here.”

  “You’re here now, and they know you loved them.”

  Hannah wiped her eyes. “I understand why Charity and Andrew are still here. She stayed for him, and he can’t leave until we solve the murder, but why are my grandparents still here?” Her eyes widened. “Does that mean my father is still here, and what about the killer?”

  “I don’t have the answers, Hannah. I suppose we’ll figure it all out in time.” He assumed if Charlie was still around, he would have sent some kind of message to Hannah or Pop, and the killer would be causing trouble now that Andrew’s remains had been found. Charlie had no doubt moved on, and the killer was probably burning in hell right about now.

  Chapter Eleven

  The wi
nd howled through the trees and around the house that night. Another storm passing through. In another month, they could have snow.

  Shivering, Hannah sat up in her bed and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. This room had so many windows, and every one of them leaked. The wind seemed to come right through them.

  Every now and then a gust would shake the house. She pulled the flashlight from the nightstand and held it in her lap. If the lights went out, she’d need it. Sitting here in the dark was not an option.

  The first lightning strike knocked out the power, and she turned the flashlight on.

  Donovan came in carrying a candle. He put it on the dresser and slid under the covers beside her. “You okay?”

  “I am now.” She felt foolish for being afraid of the dark, but she couldn’t help it.

  Minutes later, as Donovan slept beside her, the power came back on. She blew out the candle and crawled back in bed. Snuggling up to Donovan’s warm body, she closed her eyes and fell into a deep sleep, the flashlight still in her hand.

  <>

  The next morning, Hannah peered out the window. The wind last night had blown the last of the leaves off the maple trees. Time to rake again, and they had to do something with the sidewalk before someone tripped and fell where it buckled over the tree roots. Grandpa had a sledge hammer in the basement, but she wasn’t sure she had the strength to break off that ragged piece of concrete. But she could rake up the leaves and clean up the flower beds. The shrubs around the house were overgrown and woody, especially Grandma’s rose bushes, and the weeds had taken over the lawn and flower beds.

  After breakfast, she retrieved the rake from the basement and pulled on her jacket. There was a trace of smoke in the crisp autumn air. Someone must be burning leaves.

  Livingston Avenue was a busy street, with an old streetcar line down the middle. Grandpa said the house used to sit back from the street, but the city had widened the street years ago, taking a big chunk of the front lawn.