PENITENCE: An Andi Comstock Supernatural Mystery, Book 2 (95,893 words) (7 page)

Andi grinned, remembering how she’d made up the author story so she could get information out of her dentist that would help trap Sherry’s killer. “Worked before.”

“Like a charm,” Father Riley agreed.

“You two make a great mutual admiration society,” the LT commented, her tone dry.

Andi and her cohort in crime-fighting both laughed.

“Moving on,” Stacy said, “and please note that I did
not
say you couldn’t pursue that lead.”

Score one for their team. “Shall I talk to Vaughn?” Andi asked.

“Ordinarily, I’d say no, but since Vaughn already knows you hear dead people, I’ll agree to it. Just remember to advise him that this
must
remain confidential.”

“I trust him,” Andi said, “and I think after our conversation, he’s probably been mulling over the changes he mentioned in Clem. Maybe we’ll get lucky and Clem will have said something to him that will help us.” She didn’t actually believe that was going to happen, but a girl needed to stay positive, didn’t she?

Stacy seemed entranced by the pen she tapped against her notebook. She glanced up at Father Riley. “You’ve already spoken with Avery about the autopsy, right?”

“Yes, he confirmed it was an aneurism.”

“And he did a tox screen?”

“As a matter of course, but he doesn’t expect results back for a couple of weeks.”

Stacy jotted something in her notebook. “I’ll see if I can get a rush on it. We want to make sure wifey didn’t poison him or something because she found out he was planning to off her.”

“You don’t really think that,” Andi said, startled.

“No, but when you’re a cop, everyone is a suspect until they’re not, every rock must be turned over, and every scenario considered. Don’t for a minute think that no one has ever retaliated in advance of being killed themselves. Yes, they’d be further ahead if they just came to the police, but some people don’t think that way.”

Andi hoped for the sake of the LT’s sister’s friendship with Denise Naylor, that wasn’t the case.

Father Riley shook his head. “It’s a sad world we live in sometimes.”

“Amen to that,” Stacy said. She ran her finger down her notes, then tapped the page with her index finger and closed the notebook. “Everyone has their assignments. I’ll expect to be kept apprised of progress at every step. Jack will be back on Sunday, and on Monday, he’ll be in interrogation for part of the day. When he’s free, he’ll be on this case with you.” She slipped the notebook back into her purse. “At worst, we only have until next Wednesday. At best, we have twelve days from next Wednesday. Let’s get this bastard by Tuesday.”

That left five days to find and stop the killer. Andi admired the LT’s determination, but she didn’t hold out much hope they’d be able to find The Liquidator by then. “Haven’t you forgotten one thing?”

Stacy arched an eyebrow at her.

“When are we going to talk to Denise?”

“There you go with a plural pronoun again.”

“More plural than you know,” Andi admitted. “I think Vaughn should be there when we talk to her.”

Stacy pushed away from the kitchen table and stood. “I’ll call her tomorrow and try to set up a time in the evening. That should work for everyone’s schedule.”

“Perfect. I’ll pay Vaughn a visit before then.”

“You seem so sure he’ll be willing to get involved.”

“He will,” Father Riley said, his eyes on Andi. “Our girl instills not only trust, but faith in those with whom she comes in contact.” He turned his gaze on Stacy. “You and I, case in point.”

The LT responded with a small smile of agreement.

“You give me too much credit,” Andi said.

“I think not,” the priest replied. “You’re more like Jeanne D’Arc than you realize.”

“I don’t lead men into battle,” Andi protested.

“Not in the traditional sense of battlefield, but the mighty forces of good versus evil can manifest in many ways. Yours just happens to be in the form of helping souls right wrongs so they can cross over.”

Andi would have replied, but Father Riley had effectively silenced her into deep thought.

Andi decided t
o
make an early night of it. She called Jack before she turned in, but his voice mail picked up.

“Just me,” she said. “Didn’t sleep well last night so I’m hitting the sack early. Met with Stacy and Father Riley tonight. I’ll catch you up on what’s happening tomorrow. Hope everything’s going okay for you.” She almost signed off with
love you
, but caught herself in time and said instead, “Miss you. ’Bye.”

She dozed off thinking about Jack and how she felt about him. She wasn’t sure yet that she
did
love him, but after multiple thorough examinations of her feelings, it sure as heck felt like it.

Getting a full eight hours of sleep did wonders for her disposition the next day. She went into work early again, thinking she might need to take an extra hour for her meeting with Vaughn. When eight o’clock rolled around, she called and asked if he could meet with her around noon.

“Funny coincidence. I’m going to be downtown this morning,” he said.

“Meeting with Orion?” she guessed.

“Yep. He’s definitely interested. What if I buy you lunch afterward?”

“You don’t have to do that, but I’d love to have lunch with you.”

“Great. I’ll give you a jingle when we’re done. You pick the place.”

“See you then.” No sooner had Andi disconnected than the redolence of smoke filled the air around her.

I’m going to miss the snow, Andi, but you know what? I’m not cold at all. I don’t think I’ll ever be cold again. Isn’t that wonderful?

Andi agreed that it was and then, just like that, the smell of smoke was gone. From her recent Smokie visits, she deduced that warmth was a common theme among the newly departed. She recorded the communiqué, then went back to work and made decent progress on Bunnicula for the next three hours. She got up only once to refill her coffee cup. At eleven, Brent stuck his head in the door to inquire how the vampire rabbit was faring.

“He really has his teeth in the game,” Andi responded, deadpan.

Brent laughed and went on his way.

Andi’s phone
pinged
. Stacy, texting to say the meet with Denise Naylor was on for six-thirty that evening. Did Andi want to join her for dinner before that? Andi texted back a
yes
, to which Stacy responded with the name of a restaurant on the north end of town, near where the Naylor’s house was located. Andi loved Thai food, so the choice was good by her. She sent off an
OK
and turned back to her computer.

The pungent odor of smoke filled the inside her office. Andi got up and closed the door, which would signify to her co-workers that she didn’t want to be disturbed.

“Hello, Clem.” She wondered why she could identify him by the scent of his smoky odor, and realized for the first time how unique it was from any other Smokies that had stopped by to chat.

I did something bad, Andi, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“I’m going to help you, remember?”

I don’t see how. At this point, it seems hopeless. I’ve put things in motion to kill my wife and I’ll be forever earthbound because of it, repenting my sin.

“I’m going to ask you some questions, Clem. Really think about them before you answer, okay? I mean it when I say I’m going to help you.”

Go ahead, but I don’t see how that’s possible.

“Did you ever mention to anyone else that you suspected Denise was having an affair?”

No.

“Don’t be so quick to answer. Not anyone? Not a good friend, or a work associate, or someone you don’t even know that well?”

This time, he didn’t answer immediately.

I might have said something to someone I met up with on the running paths.

Andi debated. Did she ask if it was Vaughn, or let Clem come up with Vaughn’s name on his own.

Clem took the decision out of her hands.
It
was
Vaughn. He moved into our neighborhood about a year ago. He’s a big-shot software developer, or was. He sold his company and he and his wife moved here with their kids to be close to her family. How did you know?

“Vaughn’s wife, Sherry, passed by here when she was cremated. I knew her from school.”

Oh, my God! I remember now, she was murdered.
After a lengthy pause, he went on.
Did she tell you she’d been murdered? Is that the way this works? People fuck up in real life and in the afterlife, they come to you for help?

“Your guess is as good as mine about that,” she said. “I’ve been working in this building since last spring. Every time there’s a cremation, I smell smoke and I hear a voice. Generally, it’s just a pleasant comment or two in passing. Sherry was different, she asked me for help and I gave it to her.”

I read about the murder in the newspaper, and after that, Vaughn told me what happened, but he never mentioned your name.

“No, and that’s the way I want it. I don’t need or seek credit for any part I played in outing her killer.”

And now you want to help me the same way.

“Yes. I’m going to talk to Vaughn today and see if he has any information that you may have forgotten you gave him.”

Good, good. I was a basket case for the last few months, Andi. I don’t remember half of what I said or did, thinking that Denise was screwing some guy on the side.

Andi decided to withhold an editorial comment about the necessity of communication in a marriage. The guy was anguished enough by his actions and a could’a-should’a-would’a reminder wouldn’t do a darned bit of good now. “I need to know about the questionnaire you completed on the hitman website.”

So, you checked it out.

“Had to. It’s all part of the helping-you package.” Andi pulled the form she’d printed out from the manila folder. “You’ve already given me the dates and times you designated, but what about the method you wanted him to use? You said before that he would shoot her.”

I didn’t want Denise to suffer. No matter how badly she’d deceived me, I didn’t want her to experience pain.

Andi thought that rather hypocritical and oxymoronic, but didn’t say so. She forgot that he seemed to be privy to her thoughts.

I know it doesn’t make sense to you, Andi, but I still love my wife, even though I thought she’d cheated on me. I never understood that old saying before, that you have to love someone to be able to hate them, but I do now. Hate makes you crazy. It makes you do things you wouldn’t do ordinarily. It makes you say things you can’t take back.

Andi got off track for a moment. “Does that mean you said something to Denise that you regret?”

The day I died, I told her I knew what she’d been doing and I was going to make her sorry.

“Did you mention outright that you thought she was having an affair?”

No. She had this shocked look on her face, like I’d betrayed
her
somehow, and then she started crying. My wife is a strong woman, Andi. I don’t think I saw her cry more than once or twice in all the years we were married. It nearly destroyed me. In fact, if I hadn’t been filled with such a hateful rage toward her, I might have done something bad to myself for hurting her.

“Easy to say now,” Andi said, uncaring that she had no sympathy for how his actions had affected him.

You’re right. I’m a bastard and I admit it. Denise didn’t deserve any of what I said to her or how I treated her those last few months, or what I planned for her.

“Let’s get back to the questionnaire. You didn’t want her to suffer. Did you think shooting her was the best way to have her killed?”

Gunshot seemed the surest way. I preferred up close, with no chance for a miss, so I chose that as number one. Secondarily, I opted for a sniper shot. When I finally communicated with The Liquidator, he assured me he wouldn’t miss, either way, and that she would be dead, with one shot, before she hit the ground. The only question that remained was the circumstance. Did he make it look like a home invasion, a sexual assault gone awry, or a random shooting.

“Which did you choose?”

I couldn’t. I told him to use his discretion.

“Did you state a preference for the actual date?”

Yes. February third. I thought it would be appropriate for her to die on my birthday.
He paused.
Ironic, isn’t it, that all this started because she wanted to give me a special gift for my birthday?

Ironic didn’t quite cover it. “Backing up now. You said you met with The Liquidator. How did it happen and can you give me a description of him?

You’ll find this even more ironic, considering your friendship with Father Riley.

“How do you know I’m friends with Father Riley?”

I can read your thoughts, remember. I’ve heard you thinking about him a couple of times.
He made a grunting sound.
The Liquidator set up a meet at St. Gemma’s, in the confessional. He was in the priestly compartment, I was in the sinner booth. No one came into the church the entire time we were there the first time. The second time, someone came in to pray and we had to suspend our conversation for half an hour.

“You met with him twice? Did you get the impression that he lives nearby?”

Hunh…I guess I did. Each time, I was instructed to wait ten minutes after he left before I exited the church, so I never saw what he was driving, if he even got into a car at all, or which direction he headed.

“Did you ever communicate via email?”

Yes, initially, but then I was told to purchase a disposable phone, and once I did, someone texted me with additional questions.

“Why do you say ‘someone’?”

I…I’m not sure. I suppose because the questions were redundant. I’d already provided him with the information.
He paused again.
You know, I remember thinking at the time that he might have turned the job over to someone else.

“Did you bother to ask?”

No.

Andi found that peculiar, but didn’t say so. “What kinds of questions?”

How much could I pay? Where did I live? Was the mark in the same city? What was my relationship with the mark?

Curiouser and curiouser. “What did you do with the phone?”

Nothing. I carried it with me during the day, when I was at work, but I kept it in the bureau drawer when I got home.
He paused a moment.
You do know that I began my death spiral at home, don’t you?

“All I know is that you had an aneurism. The medical examiner confirmed that, but he also did a toxicology screen on you and he’s awaiting results.”

No one poisoned me, although I wish to God someone had before I got a wild hair up my ass to kill my wife.

Andi made a strangled sound.

What’s that about?

“Wild hair,” she said. “The game app I’m writing is called Wild Hare
,
h-a-r-e, as in from the rabbit family. I was taken aback by your choice of words, that’s all.”

I like your rabbit wild hare better than my idiot wild hair.

Andi understood why, but even so, just like that, he was gone again before she had a chance to ask more questions or tell him that she would be meeting with Denise that evening.

. . .

Vaughn texted Andi at twelve-fifteen that he was waiting for her downstairs. She saved her work and logged off her computer, then used the restroom, grabbed her coat and purse and headed out.

“Where would you like to go?” Vaughn asked. “I’m so hungry, I could eat a bear.”

Andi grinned. “There’s a steak house nearby, but I don’t think they serve bear.”

He grinned back. “Walk or drive?”

“Too far to walk, especially since I didn’t wear my boots and the sidewalks may not have all been cleared yet.”

“Your carriage awaits, then.” He took her elbow and escorted her across the street, which was still icy in spots. “I don’t get this city. They’re never ready for snow.”

“Go figure,” Andi said facetiously, climbing into his Mercedes GL. “Wow, this is luxurious.”

“Sherry picked it out. She wanted something comfortable to drive while she was carting kids around.”

“She always did have good taste.”

“That she did.”

They arrived at the restaurant five minutes later. Vaughn ordered a ribeye and Andi ordered a french dip.

“I take it your meeting with Orion went well,” she said.

“What gave me away?” Vaughn asked, his eyes twinkling.

“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe your dour expression and overall depressed mood?”

He laughed. “I can’t give you any particulars yet, but suffice it to say, Orion and I hit it off and we’re both excited about what the future holds for us.”

Andi was happy to see Vaughn finally enjoying himself. He’d taken Sherry’s death hard, and being thrust into the role of single-parent to two sets of twins, was no picnic. Though life had been tough on him, he was mastering it. “I’m glad. You deserve a bit of good fortune.”