Janet McNulty - Mellow Summers 04 - Three Little Ghosts

by Janet McNulty

  Detective Shorts looked at me trying to decide if I had lost my mind.

  “It’s the truth,” I pleaded.

  I looked at Greg for some help. “It is,” he piped up.

  “There are no such things as ghosts.”

  “Sure there are,” said Tiny walking into the apartment carrying a stack of books. “Mel, here is the real deal. A genuine medium. Helped me a time or two.”

  Not helping, Tiny. Really not helping.

  Detective Shorts looked at each of us. No doubt he thought that we had rehearsed this whole thing. “Either you are a good story teller, or you’re crazy. Good-bye, Miss Summers. And no more funeral crashes.”

  He strode down the hall.

  “He doesn’t believe in ghosts?” asked Sarah.

  “No,” I replied.

  “Come on guys,” said Sarah. Instantly, the three sisters trailed after Detective Shorts.

  “No, girls…don’t!” They ignored me. If Detective Shorts didn’t believe in ghosts now, he would soon.

  “You crashed a funeral?” Tiny looked at me with wide eyes and an amused expression. “Holy cow! Even I haven’t done that. Way to go, Mel.” He clapped me on the back. “Here.” Tiny shoved the books into my hands. “Sombrero told me to bring these by. He marked some pages for you to go over. They should help with your midterms.”

  Midterms! Oh, crap! I had forgotten all about them and they were later this week.

  He said good-bye and left.

  “I think I ought to study,” I told Greg.

  “No supper?”

  “Rain check?”

  “I’ll pick something up. Be back in a bit.” He kissed me and headed out.

  Jackie ran down the hallway towards me. “What’s this about you crashing a funeral?” she gasped. “Mel, are you insane?”

  I might as well be. “How’d you—”

  “I ran into Tiny on the way up. He told me all about it. You seriously interrupted a funeral?”

  “Yeah. Come on I’ll tell you all about it.”

  Jackie dumped her stuff on the coffee table and settled in the big chair crossed legged and listening intently. I told her everything: the conversation between Father Hillard and the lady at the shop; asking Greg to accompany me to the memorial service; how I got pulled into the service by an old lady with a grip that’d shame any shark; and how Alana, Sarah, and Freya showed up.

  After I had finished my story, I locked myself in my room with the pile of books Tiny had dropped off. Time for me to study.

  Chapter 10

  Something sharp pressed into my cheek as I slowly awoke to a bright and sunny morning. My hands felt numb and so did my left ear. Stretching, I lifted my head only to find that I had fallen asleep while studying; the fact that my head rested on an open textbook resulted in my face being sore. I yawned. How much studying did I get done? Very little. I checked my watch. Late, as usual.

  Quickly, I leapt out of my desk chair, changed my clothes, and brushed my teeth. Grabbing my bag on the way out the door, I hailed a quick good-bye to Jackie and dashed down to the parking lot. After hitting every red light and getting behind three grandmothers who failed to realize the speed limit was thirty-five, I finally pulled into the college. My shoes smacked the linoleum floor as I hurried to my first class of the day.

  I slipped into the nearest available desk.

  “Miss Summers?”

  “Present,” I said, breathless.

  “Well, that accounts for everyone,” said the professor. “Now, as you all know your midterm exams are this week. I hope you all have been studying.”

  Studying, or sleeping, I thought to myself. Naturally, the brownnosers quipped about being prepared and how they knew the material. The sloughs remained glued to their cell phones and whatever game they played. People like me just smiled and inwardly groaned.

  I hated midterms. That’s that halfway point between semesters where students find out if they made the right choice when picking their classes. I feared that I might have taken on too much in trying to go to school full-time, work at a job, and solve a mystery.

  Perhaps, I should reconsider my priorities. Or take a semester off. Nothing says I have to attend a full session of classes every semester. Jackie once suggested I attend half-time. It would take an extra year to graduate, but would be easier on my stress level.

  “Mel?”

  Yeah, maybe I’ll reconsider my options. I can cut my class load and still get my degree.

  “Mel?”

  I pulled myself from my thoughts. The professor stared at me with a book in his hands and a worried expression.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I waved off his concern.

  “Good. Then perhaps you can be in my class mentally as well as physically.”

  “No problem,” I said to the tune of some snickering girls in the back. Seriously, were they still in high school? I sometimes wondered about people’s maturity level.

  The teacher droned on and my mind wandered once again. Who was the janitor at the church and what had been his connection to Allison? He wasn’t one of the other bank robbers. I was certain of that. The man he talked to sounded as though he knew Allison too. But who was he and why did he always stay concealed.

  Two out of the three accomplices were dead. Only one remained. One remained. What was his name again?

  And the janitor, though clearly a front, how did he learn about the money? They couldn’t be friends. They didn’t sound like they liked each other when I listened in on them.

  One bank robber left. Why did that keep bothering me?

  I glanced out the window and saw, to my surprise, the janitor walking across campus. Then, it hit me. The mystery man was the third accomplice; he had to be. Somehow the janitor found out about the money. Could he have heard it on the news if he was from Utah?

  Perhaps through a mutual arrangement they decided to help each other in finding the money. Though I had a feeling about how that would end.

  But why kill Allison before they learned the location? After all, she was the only one who knew where the money was hidden. Unless…

  “I got it,” I blurted out.

  The teacher stopped lecturing and all eyes rested on me.

  “Got what?” asked the professor.

  “She wasn’t supposed to die. Now that she is, they have to work together to find the money. It all makes sense.” I snatched my bag and ran for the door.

  “Mel, where are you—” started the professor.

  “That girl is strange,” muttered someone as I charged out.

  I dashed down the hallway to the nearest exit and ran straight for where I had seen the janitor. Once there, I whirled around hoping to find signs of where he went. I spotted him. Hanging by the dumpsters, he conversed with another man who stayed out of sight.

  Quickly, I headed for them slipping beside the wall and staying out of sight, but within ear shot. Unfortunately, my foot stomped on a discarded Coke can sending it flying.

  “What was that?” asked the janitor.

  “Nothing,” said the other man.

  “I told you, the money isn’t there,” continued the janitor, “I’ve searched that place. Every inch of it.”

  “It has to be.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Then where is it?”

  “How should I know? The bitch took the secret to her grave,” hissed the janitor.

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before you killed her.”

  “She was going to go to the cops. I had to do something.”

  “Yeah, well—”

  “Listen to me you spineless fool,” the janitor grabbed the other man’s shirt collar and rammed him against the dumpster, “No one questions my methods. She was going to talk, so I got rid of her. We’ll find the money. If you’re so worried then leave. I’m sure the cops would love to hear about how you skipped parole.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” hissed the other man. “I�
�m not the one who knifed Bobby Joe while he stood in line at the prison cafeteria.”

  “Yeah, well, bad things happen in prison.”

  “And what about that woman that keeps sniffing around the church?”

  “She’s just a minor inconvenience.”

  I gulped knowing that they talked about me.

  A group of people strolled past. Knowing, my time was up, I slipped in behind them pretending to be a part of the crowd. Cautiously, I turned back just in time to see the janitor and the other guy part company.

  I headed back home wanting to tell Jackie this development immediately. Of course this meant that I shirked off my other classes. Oh, well. Midterms weren’t until later this week. Nothing to worry about.

  Jackie sat at the table eating eggs benedict as I barged in. “Mel, what’s wrong?”

  “I know what happened,” I said, excitedly, “Well, sort of.”

  “What do you mean what happened? You mean the murder?”

  “Yes. The janitor at the church is an ex inmate from a Utah prison. He killed Bobby Joe, one of the bank robbers that Allison was with. Bobby Joe must have told him about Allison’s disappearance with the money.

  “The guy working with the janitor is Scott. Henry Scott.”

  “So how are they working together?” asked Jackie.

  “My guess is they were forced to. Both know about the money and want it. They probably ran into each other while searching for it. Instead of killing each other then, I bet they decided to team up to find Allison and get her to talk.”

  “But they killed her.”

  “One of them did before she told them anything. My guess is that she was going to go to the police. So they killed her to keep her quiet.”

  “But where is the money?” Jackie asked.

  “They don’t know. And neither do I.”

  “This is all so complicated,” said Jackie.

  “I don’t think so. For whatever reason, Allison drove away with the cash and left the others to rot. Maybe she grew tired of them. I’m willing to bet that she only agreed to the robberies to get cash to pay her grandfather’s nursing home bills.”

  “But how could she do that without getting caught?”

  “Hey guys,” said Greg as he walked in. “What’s going on?”

  “Mel, knows who the two guys are looking for Allison’s money. But that doesn’t explain how she could have paid the nursing home bills without getting caught,” said Jackie.

  “Third party,” replied Greg.

  “What?”

  “Allison probably used a third party. It happens all the time. For example a rich donor wishes to remain anonymous, if you don’t want people knowing where the money came from, you use a third party.”

  “Like what?” asked Jackie.

  “There are groups and organizations that will do it. You can use a lawyer,” said Greg.

  “Wouldn’t they have to report stolen money?” I asked.

  “Not if you don’t tell them it is stolen. Look, Allison managed to get back here without getting caught. She acquired the necessary IDs to get a place to live and start over. I am certain she figured out how to funnel the money to help her grandfather without it being traced.”

  “But the cops all knew that the bills were paid by her,” I said.

  “They may have known it, but without proof there was nothing they could do,” said Greg. “I’m guessing she set up a fund of sorts to cover his expenses. Most likely a law firm runs it. And it was started with cash.”

  “But don’t bills have serial numbers?” said Jackie. “If she used the money from the banks she robbed, wouldn’t that attract attention?”

  “If she used those exact bills,” said Greg, “Look, Allison managed to disappear and live in this town for five years without anyone making the connection between her and the incident in Salt Lake City. She probably found a connection in the criminal underground and switched the bills.”

  “But wouldn’t they just kill her and take the cash?” I asked.

  “You two are missing the big picture,” replied Greg, “Allison had probably planned this entire thing.”

  “What?” said Jackie and I together. I had never thought about that. I kept thinking that Allison was an innocent victim.

  “Think about it,” said Greg. “She meets Bobby Joe and goes bad. My guess is that it was all an act. He may have come up with the idea of robbing the banks and then flying off to Mexico or something; but I think she used him to get the money.

  “I had Jack do some more checking. Her grandfather was about to be thrown out of the nursing home because of outstanding bills. No one in her family had the money. Then she meets a guy with a criminal past who suggests robbing the bank. I bet that was when she started planning this.

  “She probably made an arrangement with someone to have the bills switched out. Foreign creditors, loan sharks, anyone looking to get rich quick and look the other way.

  “Then, she uses her boyfriend and his pals to commit the robberies. After the money is secured in the trunk she takes off and is never heard from again. The cops arrest them, but she is gone because she already had the fake IDs.

  “Some time later the nursing home bills are paid by an anonymous donor from some fund. A separate account was set up to pay any other expenses. It is a high interest investment account in some lawyer’s name, who every month withdraws money and sends it to the nursing home facility.

  “Allison lives a quiet life under the radar and no one is the wiser. It all fits.”

  “It all sounds too tight,” I said, though Greg’s theory had merit. Most people who rob banks try to flee the country or start spending wildly; leading to their capture. But Allison played it smart. She played it cool. Maybe she had planned the whole thing.

  “But why would she threaten Scott she’d go to the cops?” I asked.

  “To keep from being killed,” replied Greg, “She probably thought that her accomplices would be incarcerated for life, or at least a very long time. But he got out and started looking for her.”

  “But what about her grandfather?” said Jackie, “If she admitted to the robbery, wouldn’t he lose the fund that’s paying his bills?”

  “No,” said Greg, “And for two reasons. One, no law enforcement agency is going to throw an old guy in a nursing home on the street by stripping away his only means of income when he had no knowledge of it, or part in it. Bad PR. And it’s five years after the fact.

  “Two, the fund was set up in the name of a lawyer who transferred money from his personal account to start it. He then withdrew money and wrote the check, but asked the nursing home to keep it anonymous. The lawyer is an ex-friend of Allison’s from high school.”

  “She gave him the cash,” I said.

  “Most definitely, but there is no way to prove it.”

  “But wouldn’t he have to turn her in?” asked Jackie.

  “Maybe he felt she was coerced,” said Greg, “She could have given him any story. Or he felt he owed her.”

  “But he is breaking the law,” said Jackie.

  “I remember you two breaking into a blood bank not too long ago,” said Greg. Jackie shut her mouth. He had us there.

  “So Allison isn’t just some innocent victim,” I said.

  “I still think she is,” said Greg. “Look, she saw an opportunity to help the only person she loved. And three scumbags were put in prison. Most likely she planned on turning herself in eventually, once assured that her grandfather would be taken care of. She probably would have done it in a couple years. You saw him, Mel. He can’t have more than a few years. Once he died, I’m certain she would have come forward. She just wanted her grandfather’s last years to be comfortable.”

  “How did you find all this out anyway?” asked Jackie.

  “It helps when you know a computer hacker. Jack owes me a lot of favors.”

  “Computer hacking is somewhat on the illegal side,” I smiled.

  “Is it?” replied Gr
eg.

  “Okay, so we have a good idea of why Allison participated in the robberies. We know who killed her, but without proof. The question is: how do we prove it, and where is the money?” I said.

  “No,” said Greg, “You are not going to try and prove their guilt for Alison’s murder.”

  “But—”

  “Did the last few times you almost died not sink in?” said Greg, “These two mean business. You tangle with them, they will kill you.”

  I pouted. I knew those two by the dumpster murdered her. I just needed proof. “Well, what if we locate the money before they do?’’

  “What?” asked Greg.

  “If we find it, we can turn it in to the cops,” I said, “At least then they won’t be able to use it to skip the country.”

  Greg thought about it a while.

  “I’m in,” said Jackie.

  I gaped at her. She usually didn’t jump at the chance to tango with danger.

  “What?” she said, “My curiosity is killing me. I want to know where it is.”

  “Fine,” relented Greg, “We’ll locate the money and give it to Detective Shorts. But under no circumstances are you allowed to have anything to do with the murderers.” He directed the last bit at me.

  “I promise to only follow the money,” I said, holding up my right hand.

  Greg gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me. “I need to go to work. You two stay out of trouble.” He gave me a quick kiss holding me more tightly than usual. “I mean it.”

  Jackie and I watched him leave. “So, what’s your plan on getting into trouble?” asked Jackie.

  “What?” I said.

  “You’re thinking of something that is going to get you into trouble and I’m going to get dragged into it. So out with it.”

  “We need to figure out where she hid the cash,” I said. “And I think I know where to begin.”

  Chapter 11

  “This is your great plan?” said Jackie as we pulled up to Allison Farlow’s house in my car.

  “We have to start somewhere,” I said.

  “By breaking into a dead woman’s house?”

  Okay, maybe not the best plan, but maybe Allison left a clue as to where she kept her money in there. “Where do you suggest we look?”