by Kathi Daley
“I’m so excited about today,” Alyson said, twirling around the room. “Can Sunny come?”
“We chose a dog beach so she could tag along.”
“And Shadow?” Alyson asked.
I glanced at the cat, who was sitting on the bed, watching us chat. “I don’t know if he’d like the beach. Cats usually aren’t as fond of sand and water as dogs are.”
“We can bring a blanket to put under the umbrella. That way he won’t have to get wet and sandy if he doesn’t want to.”
I shrugged. “I’ll leave it up to him.” I looked at Shadow. “If you want to come, follow us out to the car, and if you don’t, I’ll be sure your food and water are topped off and you can spend the day here.”
“Meow.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a yes meow, or a thanks-but-no-thanks meow, but Shadow did seem to understand what I’d said, so I figured I’d wait to see whether he showed up at the car.
I grabbed a pile of beach towels, a couple of large blankets, some sunscreen, and a big floppy hat and went downstairs, where Mac had a large picnic basket and an ice chest waiting by the door. I’d left my old surfboard out in the shed, so I hunted around for the key, then went out to fetch it. Mac didn’t have her board with her, so Trevor was bringing one for her to use. While in the shed, I grabbed a large beach umbrella and a couple of sand chairs.
When everything was waiting to be loaded into the car, I called Monica. She answered after the second ring. “Amanda. How are you today?”
“I’m good, thank you. We’re going to the beach, but I hoped I could swing by to speak to Booker first.”
“Absolutely. Any time.”
“How about now?”
“Now is fine,” Monica confirmed. “It’s going to be lovely at the beach. You don’t want to waste any more of that sunshine than you have to.”
“You’re welcome to come along if you like. We’re bringing surfboards and we have enough food to stay until after dark.”
“Really? You don’t think the others will mind?”
“Not at all. You should come. It’s going to be a fun, relaxing day.”
“Okay. Maybe I will. If you’re sure it will be okay with everyone.”
“I’m sure. I’ll be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
“I’ll get ready for the beach, so just come on in when you get here. I’ll meet you in the library.”
I headed out to the car, where Alyson, Sunny, and Shadow were waiting for me. The animals should be all right to come along; I only planned to be there for a few minutes. I texted Mac to let her know they were with me and I’d be back as soon as possible.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be as soon as I’d thought.
Chapter 14
When I arrived at Booker’s I found the front door unlocked, as promised. I went directly down the hallway to the library. I didn’t see Booker at first, but when I said his name, his image appeared near the now-dormant fireplace.
“Alyson and Amanda. So good to see you both. Are you here to try to jog my memory again?”
“Actually,” I said as I approached him, “I have some different questions for you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
I watched Alyson out of the corner of my eye. She floated over and stood next to Booker. It almost seemed as if she were offering him comfort. “On the night of the murder, you met with Dredge’s contact and then came home.”
“That’s correct.”
“When you arrived at the house, was the alarm on?”
Booker answered almost immediately. “It was on. I deactivated it, came in, locked up, and reactivated it before putting the money in the safe and going upstairs to change into my nighttime attire.”
“You also said you were sitting at the table here,” I placed my hand on it, “when you heard a noise. You looked up and that’s the last thing you remember.”
Booker nodded. “That’s correct. We’ve gone over all of this before. I’m not sure I can tell you anything new.”
“It seems to me that you realized you weren’t alone when you saw the person who killed you. If that’s true, it seems unlikely you let that person in, as Woody suspected.”
Booker frowned. “So how did they get in?”
“Is it possible whoever you saw that night had both a key to the house and the alarm code? Is it possible they let themselves in while you were working in the library?”
Booker shook his head. “That doesn’t seem right. The only people with a key and the alarm code are my housekeeper, Monica, and …” Suddenly, Booker went pale, if it’s possible for a ghost to do that, of course.
“And…?” I prompted.
“No. It couldn’t be. There has to be another explanation.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But for now, considering anyone who had access to the house seems our best bet.”
Booker slipped into a chair. He bent over and rested his head on his knees.
“Booker? Are you all right?” I asked with genuine concern. The man was already dead; I didn’t think he could experience any sort of physical harm that in a living person would be associated with shock, but he was certainly feeling emotional distress.
“Who was it, Booker? Who came to see you that night?”
Booker looked up and around the room. “Monica?”
“Monica is the one who came to see you?”
“No, it wasn’t Monica.” Booker looked around again. “She isn’t here?”
I shook my head. “She’s upstairs. You remember, don’t you? You remember who shot you?”
Booker looked away from me. He stood up and wandered to the window. He looked out into the brilliantly sunny day. “It was Monica’s brother, Jessie.” Booker turned and looked at me. “You can’t tell Monica. It will destroy her.”
“But…”
“No. You have to promise me. Monica and Jessie are close despite the fact that she’s caring and dependable while her brother is careless and self-centered. If you tell her, it will kill her. I’m already dead. You can’t help me, but you can hurt her. Please, I beg of you. We need to keep this to ourselves.”
Suddenly, I felt as if I was the one who was trapped. “Booker, she wants to know what happened to you. She needs to know. I don’t think she’ll let it go until she does know.”
“No. Telling her will make things worse.”
Oh God. I took a deep breath. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?”
Booker began to float around the room in a seemingly meaningless manner. Ghost pacing again, I assumed. “I heard a noise and looked up. It was Jessie. He had come earlier, while I was at the party. He’d let himself in, reset the alarm, and then helped himself to my liquor cabinet. I think his original intention was simply to go up to a guest room and wait to speak to me the following day, but apparently, the alcohol made him both angry and careless, and he came down to the library.” Booker paused. I was pretty sure ghosts couldn’t cry, but if it was possible, that’s what he would have been doing.
“Go on,” I encouraged.
“At first, I was happy to see him, but then I realized how drunk he was. Jessie is a sweet kid most of the time and we usually got along just fine, but he’s a mean drunk. I tried to make small talk, but he started right in by insisting that I needed to give him some money. A lot of it. I told him I wasn’t going to turn over the amount of cash he wanted without a serious conversation about what he needed it for, and I wasn’t going to have that conversation while he was drunk. That seemed to enrage him. The next thing I knew, he was waving a gun around, insisting I favored Monica. He accused me of loving her more, even though he was blood, the same as her. He said I seemed to be willing to help her out whenever she needed money, while I turned him down time after time.”
Booker sat down abruptly. I waited until he was ready to speak again.
“Jessie was so angry,” Booker continued. “I should have realized and done more to diffuse the situation; instead, I tried to explain my
side of things, while he went on and on about getting his share and making things right. I tried to talk him into giving me the gun and going back to bed, but he was like a wild man. I should have known the danger in mixing alcohol and suppressed rage and given him what he wanted, but I didn’t.”
“But the money was missing. If you didn’t give it to him, what happened to it?” I asked.
“I didn’t die right away. After Jessie shot me, he seemed to be in shock. I told him to call for help, but he said he wouldn’t do that unless I gave him the money he was after. I gave him the combination to the safe. He took the money and left. I hoped he’d call 911 once he was safely away from the house, but I guess he didn’t.”
“I’m so very sorry.” A tear slid down my cheek. “I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you, but I need to tell Woody that Jessie is the one who shot you.”
Booker shook his head. “No. You can’t. There’s no reason to destroy any more lives.”
I turned away to try to gather my thoughts, which was when I saw Monica standing in the doorway. She looked as if she’d seen a ghost, but I didn’t think that was the case. She must have heard what I’d just said to Booker.
“Jessie shot Uncle Rory?” she asked in a voice so soft I barely heard her.
I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms. “I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful about what I said. Booker didn’t want you to know, and while I felt you should be told, I certainly didn’t want you to find out this way.”
Monica squeezed me back, then took a step back. “It’s all right. I should have known.”
“You knew Jessie was here?”
Monica shook her head. “No. But I knew he needed money to pay off a gambling debt. He’d been after me for days to give him what I had, but I refused. I’d helped him out so many times, and each time he’d promise to stop, but he never did. I called him after I heard about Uncle Rory. He acted all cool and unaffected, but that was Jessie after he’d been drinking. I was dealing with my own grief, so I let it go. When he made a comment about being his own family and taking care of himself because no one who shared his blood cared about what he was going through, I just thought he was having one of his episodes.”
“Episodes?”
“Jessie not only has problems with alcohol, he has problems with depression. He makes bad decisions. Really bad decisions. I know that’s why Uncle Rory didn’t want to leave us the house. I didn’t blame him.” A tear slid down Monica’s cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. “When we discovered Uncle Rory’s money was missing, I should have put two and two together immediately. I should have known the only reason Jessie wasn’t sniffing around, hoping Uncle Rory had left me money I could lend him, was because he’d already acquired what he needed.”
“Tell Monica we don’t have to call Woody. Tell her that we can keep this between us,” Booker said.
I glanced at him and frowned.
“Tell her,” he insisted.
“What is it? Is Uncle Rory saying something?” Monica asked.
I repeated what Booker had said.
She slowly shook her head as tears slid down her cheeks. “No. We have to tell. Jessie needs help. He killed his own blood. And he doesn’t seem to feel any remorse.” Monica looked at me. “We need to tell what we know. Will you make the call?”
I glanced at where Booker had been standing, but he’d faded away. “Yes,” I said turning back to Monica. “I’ll make the call.”
Chapter 15
By the time I’d gotten hold of Woody, explained exactly what had occurred and how I knew it, and he’d put out an all-points bulletin on Jessie, it was well in to the afternoon. Mac had come by to pick up the animals, who were waiting in the car for me. I told her to go on ahead to the beach with Trevor and the animals and I’d meet them there when I was done at Booker’s house.
I wasn’t sure where Booker and Alyson had gone off to. I imagined she was trying to comfort him. Monica seemed to want to be alone, so when Woody released me, I drove to the beach. Part of me felt as if it was wrong to try to salvage what was left of the day, but another knew I’d done all I could, and hanging around wasn’t helping anyone.
The first sixty minutes at the beach I spent catching Mac and Trevor up on what had happened, but after that, what I really needed was some time alone on the water. I pulled on my sweatshirt and paddled out beyond the breakers. Once I was out far enough, I just sat on my board and floated.
I felt so bad for both Booker and Monica. They both cared for Jessie despite his weaknesses, and she would suffer greatly as she watched Jessie go through what was going to be the most difficult time in his life. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stand it if anyone I loved ended up in prison, but Monica hadn’t been wrong when she’d recognized her brother needed help, and maybe he’d get it there.
I hoped Booker would move on now that his murder was solved. I’d had a chance to connect with him again for a time, and I’d miss him when he passed over, but the goal of a pure and unencumbered spirit was to do just that. I suspected Alyson would help with that. She had a purity and compassion I knew I didn’t have as Amanda, and I realized that by finding a way to join the parts of us, I wouldn’t simply be eliminating a pest, but would be reclaiming the very best parts of myself, which I seemed to have lost along the way.
After a while, I felt I’d decompressed enough, so I picked a wave and surfed back to shore. When I arrived, Trevor had the fire going and Mac had begun to unpack the picnic. Sunny was laying on the blanket next to Shadow. It appeared both had decided to take a nap in the shade. There was still no sign of Alyson. I wasn’t entirely sure she could get here on her own. Perhaps I should drive back to Booker’s to see if she needed a ride.
“Feeling better?” Trevor asked after kissing me on the cheek.
“Much. I’m sorry about the way things worked out, but I’m glad Booker’s killer will be brought to justice.”
“I feel so bad for Monica,” Mac said. “Her brother is her only family now that Booker is dead.”
I grabbed a handful of potato chips. “Me too. She was incredibly brave today. Booker didn’t want me to tell Woody what happened to him.”
“Would you really have kept such a big secret?” Mac asked.
“Honestly? I have no idea. I was really struggling with it when Monica saved my having to make the decision by announcing she’d overheard part of the conversation I was having with Booker.”
“The next few weeks, even the next few months, are going to be really hard for her. We should make it a point to include her in whatever we decide to do,” Mac said. “Assuming you plan to stick around for a while, now that the mystery you came here for is solved.”
“I do plan to stick around. Mom is coming next week, and I know she’s excited to spend some time here. I have almost five weeks left on the leave I took from work, and I plan to use every one of those days, How about you? Can you stay?”
Mac nodded. “I’d like that very much.”
I glanced at Trevor. “Then it’s settled. Trev will just have to put up with having us underfoot for a while longer.”
“Trust me,” Trevor smiled, “I’m happy to have you underfoot for as long as you can stay.” He put an arm around each of us. “I missed you guys. More than you’ll never know.”
I was about to respond when Sunny jumped up and took off across the sand to the parking lot. I glanced in that direction and saw Monica crossing the sand with Alyson trotting along beside her. I didn’t think Monica could see her, or that she even knew of her existence, so I had to assume Monica had decided to come out to the beach as originally planned and Alyson had hitched a ride.
“Monica, I’m so glad you came.” Mac hugged her.
“Once they found Jessie and arrested him, I figured there was no reason for me to sit in that huge house being sad when I had friends waiting for me at the beach.” Monica looked at me. “I don’t know if Uncle Rory is still in the house or if he’s moved
on. Perhaps you can stop by and let me know.”
“I’d be happy to. Any time.”
“Will you be going home now?”
“No. I think I’ll stay a while. I’ve only just gotten here, and I did take a six-week leave from work. Besides, my mom is coming next week.”
Monica wrapped me in a tight hug. “Thank you.”
I hugged Monica in return as I watched Alyson and Sunny playing on the sand over her shoulder. It had been a difficult and emotional week, but darn if it wasn’t good to be home again.
NEXT FROM KATHI DALEY BOOKS
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Preview of Chapter 1
Thursday, May 3
They arrived in the middle of the night. Two balls of wet and matted fur tied to a porch railing, huddled together for warmth and comfort as the rain slammed into the small town of White Eagle, Montana, from the east. The note said they were inseparable, brothers who’d shared a womb and eventually a life. Neither had spent time without the other, and, the anonymous person who’d dropped them on Brady’s doorstep asked, if at all possible, could they be placed together?
Placing dogs with just the right owner was a task Brady Baker, local veterinarian and shelter owner, and I, Tess Thomas, mail carrier and shelter volunteer, take great pride in doing it better than anyone else, but this pair of medium-sized terriers were proving to be quite a challenge. It wasn’t that they weren’t adorable, with their huge brown eyes and long shaggy fur the color of damp sand, it was that they had never been trained or socialized to respond to or even care about anyone or anything other than each other.
