The Traveler: Book 5, The Eddie McCloskey Paranormal Mystery Series (The Unearthed) (9 page)

“Do you think you can go back to Stahl’s house tonight and see if you can get any more of this?”

Christie shot him a look, but he ignored it.

“Oh-my-God, really? I’d love to help.”

The Schubert brothers were supposed to meet for lunch. Since their sister’s murder, they had gone in three very different directions and these days had to make a point of staying in touch with each other.

Mark was a few minutes late. He always was. After stepping into the restaurant, he shielded his eyes to see through the gloom better and peered past the host. He spotted his youngest brother in the back, not too far from the bar. Good. Mark could use a cold one. He didn’t mind a drink or two at lunch.

His youngest brother was Jon, who was always a few minutes early. Must be nice, Mark thought, to have such a flexible work schedule. Mark owned his own business and he couldn’t get away as freely as Jon could. He remembered to keep his thoughts of what Jon was doing these days to himself, though. These lunches were supposed to be a way of coming together. Not fighting.

Mark shook his brother’s hand and sat opposite him.

“Wallace?” he asked, not surprised their brother wasn’t here.

Jon smirked. “Not yet.”

“Not ever.” Wallace was the middle brother. His life had spiraled ever since their sister had been murdered. Of the three men, he was the one that needed to stay in touch the most. Of course he stayed in touch the least.

“Bitch finally left him,” Jon said.

After Tiffany’s death, Jon had found religion. No, that didn’t describe it at all. This wasn’t like a panhandler finding a few carats of gold. This was more like the turn of the century oil men finding an enormous untapped reserve in the ground, the kind of well that would set them and their great-grandchildren up for life. His religion had probably saved him from depression but Mark didn’t care for Jon’s general change in attitude. He was holier-than-thou, judgmental about the most trivial of things.

No, Jon had found Religion, with a capital r.

“You talked to him?” Mark asked. He sipped from the water that had been waiting for him and wondered where the waitress was. He could use two beers. Might even be able to sneak three in before he went back to the office. His afternoon was light.

Jon shook his head. “Mom.”

“How is she?”

“You really should call her more often.”

Mark ignored his brother and kept looking for the server. He called Mom at least once, sometimes twice, a week and he wasn’t in the business of taking advice from his little brother, the same guy he’d rescued from financial trouble a few years back and who now spent his time working a bullshit job at the local church.

“Where is she?” Mark said. “I could use a drink.”

“It’s a he, actually,” Jon said. “Could you call Wallace?”

Mark gave up looking. “Why?”

“He doesn’t answer when I call.”

“He doesn’t answer when anybody calls.”

“Mom thinks he lost his job.”

Mark groaned. Jon made shit in his job, Dad had offed himself, and that left Mark as the sole earner in the family. Of course they always expected him to bail everybody out. He was the oldest. But he had a family and a mortgage: those were his priorities. Shaking his head, he imagined it would only be a matter of time before Wallace came grubbing for money.

“Why does Mom think that?”

Jon sipped his water and reached into the bread basket. He broke a piece in half. “Because of what he was saying.”

Mark was in no mood. The server was taking too long and Jon was being Jon. Pious and gormless.

“Did you read his email?” Jon said.

It had totally slipped his mind until Jon brought it up. Another one of Wallace’s strange habits. He wouldn’t call or return calls for months, then he’d fire off one of his hate-filled screeds about this, that, or the other thing. Mark had stopped reading them.

“No.”

Jon shook his head, as if Mark had committed some grave sin by ignoring Wallace’s latest email.

“What?” Mark said.

Jon looked him in the eye. “He’s in serious trouble, Mark. We need to help.”

Translation: Mark had to help him. No doubt Jon would initially be of use but after a week or so he would make up some excuse, leaving Mark to do all the heavy lifting.

“Worse than usual?”

“Much.” Jon ate some bread. “He says he’s seen Tiffany.”

Mark had only been paying half-attention. But when the last sentence registered, he sat forward. “
Seen
?”

Jon nodded. “I have too. She visits me often.”

Mark forced himself to keep a straight face. “Let’s stick with Wallace for now since he’s the one that needs help.”

Jon smiled. “My apologies. That’s my biggest sin. Always thinking of myself first.”

The words were dripping with irony. Mark ignored it.

Jon continued. “He says Tiffany asked for his help.”

Mark couldn’t help it. He rolled his eyes and groaned. Wallace wasn’t religious like Jon, but he’d become what he called “spiritual” and often talked of his conversations with Tiffany and how angels talked to him. It was as ludicrous to Mark as Jon’s current fanaticism.

Mark didn’t even want to ask, but Jon stared at him so earnestly. “Help to do what?”

“To make people remember.”

***

Christie waited till they were a few minutes up the road before she barraged Eddie. “Why did you ask Daria to go to Stahl’s?”

Whitmore, the police chief who had served as Eddie’s reference, had warned her of this. McCloskey played fast and loose and made snap decisions without clearing his moves with the police first. She’d known it was a possibility, but all the same it angered her.

“Pull over.”

“Answer the question.”

“I’m going to when you pull over.”

Christie didn’t like his tone. “Mr. McCloskey, I’m in charge here. So tell me what this is about and then maybe I’ll pull over.”

He sighed. “Okay, I want you to read the email Daria sent me.”

She found a realtor’s office and parked. He handed her his phone.

The email from Daria was intriguing but she didn’t give it much weight. She had a hard enough time believing a ghost was the killer and she’d called Eddie in.

Eddie said, “I wanted to show her how much I trusted her. Asking her to go to Stahl’s was the best way. She won’t hurt anything by being there.”

“So you break her trust by sharing the email with me?”

“I don’t break
our
trust by
not
sharing it with you.” Eddie smiled.

“How do you know I’m not the cop working with the ghost?” Christie asked.

Eddie gave her a
come on
look. “You wouldn’t have called a ghost hunter if you were working with the ghost killing people.”

Christie looked away. “That house is a crime scene. I’ll need someone to babysit Daria.”

Eddie nodded. “Sorry. We were in the moment and I played a flyer.”

“I heard you were like that.” She looked over at him. “Are you sure she won’t screw anything up for us?”

“Reasonably sure.”

His eyes were playful, mischievous. His flirting had been cute the first few times but it was time to put an end to this. She wanted to make it very clear nothing was going to happen between them.

“Eddie, let’s stay focused here.”

“I am.” Still smiling.

“Harney is running down last known whereabouts. So far, nothing on either Stahl or Fellov. The last time anybody spoke to Fellov was two or three days ago. She was in declining health and didn’t leave the house much.”

Eddie looked out the windshield. “I hate to say this, Christie. But there is something paranormal going on here. I wish there wasn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s like what you were saying, about investigation. You do it long enough and you start to see patterns emerge.”

“What pattern are you seeing?”

“Stahl and Fellov had nothing to gain by reporting the paranormal activity. And as soon as they did, they died.”

Christie followed his logic. He had a good mind, striking a balance between analytical and intuitive.

Eddie said, “Forget Stahl’s house. Daria is going back there.”

Christie thought of something. “I was looking at Daria’s involvement the wrong way. Is she in danger if she goes to that house?”

Eddie considered it. “That’s why you’re going to have a babysitter there.”

She couldn’t believe how assuming he was. “Do you always get what you want?”

Eddie grew pensive, even looked away from her. “Hardly ever.”

There was a long story behind those words. Part of her wanted to hear it. But now wasn’t the time and asking personal questions would send the wrong message.

“You want to talk to somebody who is linked to Perks, don’t you?” she said.

Her question brought Eddie back to the moment. He winked at her. The nerve of this one. It was frustrating and…a bit sexy too? She pushed the surprising thought aside.

“Yes.”

Two people came to mind. Christie didn’t want to go down this path but realized they had to if she wanted to explore the paranormal angle.

“Okay. But we have to be very careful here.”

***

The man snapped awake.

He’d fallen asleep again in the recliner. He napped all the time anymore, because he never got a full night’s sleep. He’d resorted to medication but it rarely helped. The ghost visited him nightly, forcing him awake. He had little choice but to follow its commands.

And now the ghost was back.

He’d almost told someone about the ghost. But good thing he hadn’t. Because word was out. The local media was reporting on Stahl’s 9-1-1 call and the police having brought in this paranormal investigator, Eddie McCloskey. All of which gave him an idea.

“I need to tell them about you,” the man said.

The ghost floated toward him. Its electric blue body pulsed with agitation.

“Just listen. It will fit in with the overall plan.”

The ghost’s face contorted. Its mouth opened to reveal its rotting teeth and it let out a terrible wail.

The man held out his palms. The ghost still terrified him. He’d never gotten used to it. Every day it surprised him with a new threat, some new kind of horror. And now that Stahl and Fellov were dead, it just reinforced what he’d feared all along.

He had no choice. He had to help the ghost. Or it would kill him.

“I swear. It will work.”

The ghost hovered over him in his recliner. Then it pointed at the computer monitor on his desk.

“Change of plans?” he said.

***

Christie parked in the lot for the apartment complex.

She faced him. “Eddie, this is a touchy situation. You can’t play any flyers here. Is that clear?”

“Look, detective, I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I don’t care why you do it.”

“No, just let me explain,” he said. “My brother was very different. He always saw three or four steps ahead. He was smart like that and never needed to play flyers because he had everything planned out.”

He looked over at her.

“I’m not like that. I can’t think that far ahead. So I’m
forced
to go off the cuff.”

He had suddenly grown so serious. She wondered why he was opening up to her and if it was part of some play.

Christie unlatched her belt. “If you can’t promise me, then I have to make other arrangements. I don’t want to find somebody else at this point. Things are moving too fast. Time is everything on an investigation.”

Eddie tongued his teeth. “I don’t know where the conversation is going to lead. I’m just asking for a little room to breathe. I don’t want to miss an opportunity out of fear of speaking.”

Christie considered what he was saying. It wasn’t unreasonable. The problem, though, was they had to be so damned careful about exploring the Perks angle. Not that
she
wanted to be careful. But when the chief gave an order, she followed it.

Eddie said, “You have plausible deniability. You told me to rein it in, so if I go too far you can always tell the chief I failed to follow your orders.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

***

“Mr. Meade, do you remember me?” Christie said.

Eddie saw recognition flash in the man’s eyes. And then Meade immediately put up his guard. He’d opened his apartment door all of a foot and now inched it closed a little more.

Meade said, “What do you want?”

“Just to ask you some questions. Mind if we come in?”

The guy’s eyes jumped all over the place. They were also red-rimmed and puffy like he’d just woken up. Eddie wondered if he’d been up late, on the same night Fellov was killed.

“Who’s we?”

“I’m Detective Christie with the Rariville Police Department and this is Eddie McCloskey. He’s an independent consultant working with us on a case.”