Shattered Spirits

by L. L. Bartlett

  He took his seat at the desk once more. “In what way?”

  “Maria seems to be a step ahead of us. If she finds out we’re here, she might try to get at us.”

  “What do you suggest we do?”

  “First, that this should be our last room service meal. As you pointed out, we have a microwave and a fridge. We can fend for ourselves.”

  “Do you think we should move every few days?”

  “I hope like hell we figure out what’s going on before we have to do that, but yes.” I pulled apart my croissant and took a bite. Nice. “Have you come up with anything since last night?”

  Richard nodded. “Maria has definitely been misrepresenting herself.”

  “In what way?”

  “She may have started out as a bar maid, but she owns several commercial parcels of land in the area.”

  “Such as?”

  “Areas that are up and coming.”

  “You only have to look at Main Street to see a lot of that happening.”

  “And speaking of Main Street, guess who owns the property next to the Whole Nine Yards?”

  “Maria?”

  Richard nodded. “At least the shell company she seems to own does.”

  “She’s got a shell company?”

  “It took a bit of digging, but I eventually traced it back to her social security number.”

  The property next to The Whole Nine Yards had been a florist that had gone out of business and sported a FOR SALE OR LEASE sign for more than a year. “When did she buy it?”

  “Six months ago. It and the property behind it and the bar.”

  “It’s starting to make sense now. It sounds like she intends to develop the whole block.”

  “And the stumbling block is your familiar little bar,” Richard said, “which is owned by Tom Link.”

  “Who would never sell. But what if he suddenly married? Tom’s a middle-class guy—”

  “Who undoubtedly would never think of asking for a pre-nup.”

  “Goddamn,” I said, feeling heartsick. “If I tried to warn him, he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Probably not.”

  The whole situation troubled me. “Why would Maria think Dave and I are—were—a threat?”

  “I’m puzzled by that, too.” Richard looked thoughtful. “Maybe because you’d both been working for Tom for a while. Hell, Dave worked there for a decade, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If Maria was going to have any influence on Tom, it stands to reason that getting rid of his long-time employees would make her indispensable to him.”

  “You’ve got that right,” I said, thinking of the bar’s recent prosperity. I shook my head. “How could Tom be so friggin’ stupid?”

  “How long has he been alone?” Richard asked.

  “A long time,” I conceded.

  Richard shrugged. “Imagine if you’d been lonely for years and suddenly a very attractive—much younger—woman showed interest in you?”

  “I’d be suspicious as hell.”

  “But that’s you. Not Tom.”

  “Yeah,” I had to agree. “What can we do to stop her?”

  “I’m not sure we can. We could probably assemble a credible case against her, but Tom might think it’s just sour grapes on your part. And now that Dave’s dead, it’s your word against a pretty young woman who’s probably whispering sweet nothings in Tom’s ear.”

  “How Goddamn pathetic.”

  We spent the next few minutes in silence, sipping our coffee and eating our continental breakfasts. I was the first to break the quiet. “I need to connect with Alice today, if that’s okay.”

  “I agree. But we also need to do more research on her and her half-siblings.

  “We haven’t got much else to do this morning,” I offered.

  Herschel wandered into the living room, making a beeline for Richard, as though knowing—and taking great pleasure in the fact—that he’d be freaked out.

  “I never unpacked last night,” I said, as a distraction.

  “As you said, it might be prudent to move out of here tomorrow and go somewhere else.”

  “Paranoia doesn’t suit us.”

  “I keep thinking about Dave. Seeing that cast on your leg makes me feel like we need to take whatever precautions we can. I’m glad Brenda and Betsy are safe, hundreds of miles from here.”

  I was, too.

  I ate the rest of my croissant and put a dent in my Danish before I got up and lured Herschel back to the bathroom in my part of the suite and fed him, and then Richard helped me get ready for the day. It was six-thirty when I sat down before my computer and went to work.

  * * *

  The ride to the cemetery was quiet. After all, what did Richard and I have to discuss? Still, I had a feeling the subject of security would raise its ugly head the moment we passed under Forest Lawn’s big granite gates.

  I’d learned a lot during the past couple of hours and hit pay dirt when I’d tracked down and spoken to Alice’s niece—daughter of the half-brother Alice had never known existed. What she’d told me was hearsay, but at that point, it was all I had.

  Richard braked as he turned into the cemetery’s main entrance. “I can’t leave you alone this time. It’s too dangerous, considering your current condition.”

  “And I’m not certain Alice will show up if you’re in the vicinity.”

  “Then so be it.”

  I wasn’t going to win should I argue. Still…. “Perhaps you could back the car up so that you can keep me in sight, but not be too close.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. Still, a sniper….” He let the sentence hang.

  Thanks for that, bro.

  Not!

  We drove along the cemetery’s roads until we came to the same stone bench where I’d encountered Alice on two previous occasions. Richard handed me my crutches, looking all around us. I moved to and settled on the cold stone memorial. “Take out your phone,” he directed.

  I did. “Go.”

  He nodded, looking distinctly unhappy. He got back in the minivan, started the engine, and backed up at least a hundred yards from where I sat, pulled off the road, and parked.

  It was my turn to look all around me. Snipers? That was a scary thought, but Maria wouldn’t have had a clue that our destination that morning would be Buffalo’s biggest cemetery.

  Unless, of course, she already knew where we’d set up base camp and followed us.

  “Alice?” I called. I admit it; I was feeling antsy. I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. “Alice?”

  “Shhh!”

  I heard her—I just wasn’t sure where the sound had come from. “Where are you?”

  “Here!”

  I looked around me, but saw no one, and then the top of a brunette head slowly rose over the far edge of the stone bench’s armrest until I could see her blue eyes.

  “Why are you hiding?”

  “Because of that car.” She nodded up the hill toward Brenda’s minivan.

  “I’m sorry. But my brother insists on being able to see me. It appears that someone might be trying to kill me.”

  “Why?” she asked, sounding distressed.

  The situation was far too convoluted for me to go into with such a guileless spirit as Alice. “It’s complicated. Why don’t you come and sit beside me?”

  “I’m fine here,” she assured me.

  As crouching for any length of time wasn’t going to be painful for her, I decided not to push it. “I’ve been investigating what happened after you died.”

  “And?” she asked, sounding apprehensive.

  “You know your mother passed away just short of two years after you were killed.”

  Alice nodded sadly.

  “What you don’t know is that your father remarried.”

  More of Alice appeared over the armrest, her mouth open in disbelief. “No!”

  “Yes. In fact, his new wife was much younger than he was. Just a c
ouple of years older than you when you died.”

  Alice looked crestfallen. “How could Papa be so disloyal?”

  “Loneliness?” I suggested. “He had two more children. You had a half-brother, Arthur, and a half-sister, Thelma.”

  “No!” she protested.

  “Yes.”

  Alice’s mouth was a thin line. “So, Papa finally got the son he always wanted.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  Alice’s eyes filled with ghostly tears. “My Papa forgot about me and Mama, that’s why he isn’t here with us.”

  “We don’t know he forgot you. His much younger wife probably decided to have him buried in Williamsville.”

  “Why so far away?” she cried.

  “He sold the home you lived in and that’s where he and his new family lived.”

  “That’s not right. My Papa should have been buried here with me and Mama!”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not what happened.”

  I waited a minute or more until her sniffles began to quiet before I continued. “Your brother, Arthur, is dead. I spoke with his daughter, your niece, Deborah, this morning.”

  “I have a niece?” Alice asked, still sniffling.

  “You have a number of nieces and nephews.”

  “What did she say?”

  “That your father told your brother and sister about you. When they were little, they used to pray for your soul.”

  That information didn’t please her. “Why didn’t I know that?”

  I shrugged. I had no clue how all this worked—if indeed it did work. “Your brother told his daughter that you were murdered.”

  “I was!” Alice insisted.

  “But apparently your father believed that you were killed because you did not heed his warnings to stay away from speakeasies. That you defied him.” I couldn’t say more. The old man had told the children from his second family that Alice had died because she was not a “good girl.”

  Bastard prick.

  “I did drink gin. I did dance until the wee hours. But I never disgraced my Papa.”

  Was she talking about having sex? She’d had a beau—but had they ever consummated their relationship?

  I didn’t need to know.

  “Your niece told me that your beau was found near your body and that he’d been badly beaten, but that he couldn’t remember what happened to the two of you once you left the club.”

  “Do you think that’s the truth?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still waiting to hear if my brother and I can read the police reports.”

  Alice’s expression was decidedly unhappy. “What does all this mean for me?”

  I’m sorry, but I don’t know,” I admitted.

  Alice’s face scrunched up as more tears filled her non-corporeal eyes.

  It took several long minutes before she was able to speak coherently once again. “How do we move forward?”

  “As I said, if I can read the police reports, it may give me another perspective. But I’m also a little confused about what brought me here to seek you out.”

  “I’ve thought about that, too. I’m sorry, but I have no answers. I’m just grateful that you found me.” Alice pursed her lips. “You said someone wanted to kill you. Why? You seem like a kind gentleman.”

  “Thank you. It’s a long, convoluted story.”

  “If you need someone to talk to, I have all the time in the world. I’ve had decades and decades of time to spend with no one to talk to. If I could help you in any way, I would do so with a loving heart.”

  A loving heart. That was what I needed about then. Brenda had a loving heart and was out of the picture. Maggie had a loving heart, but was preoccupied by all that had happened to her. The only other person I had to talk with was Richard.

  Wait—and Sophie. How could I forget her? I needed to connect with her—and later that night.

  “Thanks, Alice. Maybe I’ll know more by the time we next speak and then I can tell all. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  We looked at one another for a long moment. “I should get going.

  “When will I see you again?” she asked.

  “Tomorrow. Maybe the next day. It depends on what I find out.”

  Again she nodded.

  “I’m going to call my brother now.”

  “Very well. Until we meet again,” she said, and began to fade into nothingness.

  Once she’d gone, I hit the contacts list on my phone and tapped Richard’s name. He picked it up on the first ring. “I’m ready.”

  He didn’t reply, but I heard the minivan’s engine come back to life. Seconds later he pulled up in front of me. “Let me see if I can get in by myself,” I said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  It was a struggle, but I did get in, although I had to toss the crutches one at a time over the passenger seat. Shutting the door took even more effort. By then I was sweating profusely and thankful I could depend on my antiperspirant. Without Brenda around, it might be a while before I could take another shower.

  “I didn’t see her,” Richard said, as he steered the van toward the cemetery’s exit.

  I looked over at him. “What?”

  “Alice. If she showed up, I couldn’t see her.

  “She showed up, but she also crouched behind the arm of the bench. She didn’t want you to see her, but it obviously didn’t matter.”

  “What did she have to say?”

  “She wasn’t happy to hear her Papa had remarried and had another family. I have a feeling that we’re going to find out even more unsavory information about her beloved Papa, which will crush her.”

  “You’ve got a theory?”

  “Half-baked. But my gut tells me it’ll be confirmed either when we read those case records or talk to someone else about the case.”

  “Which reminds me; while you were chatting with your ghostly friend, I got a call from Detective Wilder. The cops in District B found the old files on Alice’s murder. The detective convinced them to let us take a look. We can’t take them with us, but we can at least read them.”

  “If nothing else, we can take pictures with our phones.”

  “And, of course, we can take all the notes we want. They’re expecting us in half an hour.”

  I nodded. Already I was starting to feel wiped. The thought that someone might want me dead weighed heavy on my mind, adding to the feeling. We had a long day ahead of us and a lot to accomplish.

  “Okay,” I told Richard, “let’s roll.”

  19

  During the ride to the police station, Jeff shared the rest of his conversation with Alice, which seemed to be devoid of any tangible leads.

  “It seems like we’re going nowhere fast,” Richard grumbled.

  “In cases like this, it takes thousands of pieces of apparently trivial information to figure out what in retrospect seems like an easy solution.”

  “I spent almost three hours surfing the web this morning to try to get the goods on Maria and came up with damn little. I think it’s time to be a little more aggressive.”

  “Aggressive how?”

  “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “Hacking?” Jeff asked, disapproval coloring his tone.

  “Not necessarily. There are all kinds of legitimate companies—and individuals—who run credit and other checks on people. Why shouldn’t we be one of them?”

  “Are you suggesting we set up a shell company to try to cover our tracks?”

  “Not necessarily, but it isn’t that hard to do, either. Someone like even Maggie has reason to check credit ratings and the criminal backgrounds of potential renters.”

  “Please tell me you don’t intend to use her as a shill,” Jeff demanded.

  “Of course not. But all that’s needed is a social security number to do a detailed background check, and we’ve already mined that info on Maria.”

  “Even that was obtained surreptitiously.” Jeff shook hi
s head and turned his attention back out the passenger side window. “We’ve pretty much decided Maria is behind all my and Dave’s bad luck, but we haven’t got tangible proof that it’s true.”

  “I trust your insight. Right now, it’s you who seems skeptical.”

  “I am.”

  “We haven’t looked into Maria’s friends and relatives. We could also talk to people at the other bars she owns.”

  “And if we’re already targets, that screams ‘come and get us.’”

  Richard clutched the steering wheel in an effort to quell his frustration. “What about asking your reporter friend from The Buffalo News to do some of the legwork? We could pay him on the side.”

  “I’m sure his editor would see that as a huge conflict of interest.”

  “Only if he was doing a story on Dave’s death—and it wasn’t Sam’s name attached to the story that ran in this morning’s paper.”

  Jeff didn’t comment.

  “Okay,” Richard began again, “we could have a security firm make inquiries on our behalf.”

  “And what does that say about us as we aspire to be a security firm? Either we look incompetent, or like a couple of chickens.”

  “Until we hang out a shingle, we’re just a couple of averages joes off the street,” Richard countered.

  “Try telling that to Brenda,” Jeff said with just the hint of mirth in his voice.

  Richard braked for a light and glanced to his right. Jeff still looked out the passenger side window. Irked as he was at his brother being obstinate, Richard could tell something about Jeff’s posture seemed very wrong. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not.”

  The light turned green and Richard stomped on the gas. “Talk to me.”

  For a long—a very long—time Jeff said nothing. “I hate to say it, but with everything that’s happened, I’m scared shitless.”

  “You and me both,” Richard said, and then realized his brother wasn’t being flippant. “I didn’t mean to blow you off. Tell me what’s up.”

  “Everything’s sliding out of control. Banishing Brenda and Betsy to Philadelphia; us hiding in a hotel; telling Maggie I can’t talk to her, and for what? Because some crazy bitch wants a stinking piece of real estate?”

  “It’s a temporary situation,” Richard tried to assure him.