Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
Colt had been so sure he’d sleep great in the new place. No ghosts watching as he tried to go to sleep. New bed, which had been delivered along with a plain gray couch not half an hour after Anna left rejected and confused. They’d taken away the old green sofa, which one of the younger guys thought could be cleaned and saved for his new apartment. Good luck with that…
The windows in the kitchen and main bedroom were open to let in the cool night air. The place still needed to be aired out, and he liked the lower temps in the evening. It was usually a great time to run, but lately when he considered hitting the streets he thought of Jack and his last run. Had he been hit by a car? Shot? There were a dozen possibilities, none of them good.
Trying to make sense of Jack’s final moments were disturbing, but it was his last encounter with Anna that kept Colt wide awake. He’d blown it with her big time. What choice did he have? She wasn’t meant for him. Nothing good could come of them hooking up.
It was getting late, and he hadn’t gotten anywhere near his new bed. No, he sat on the couch, which was firm and comfortable, but not as comfortable as the recliner he wanted to bring over, someday when he had some help. He had the spot for his favorite chair picked out. Maybe tomorrow…
Just as he was thinking about heading toward the bedroom to try to sleep the texts started coming in one after another, in rapid fire. Anna, a couple of shop owners, both his employees. None of them gave him great information. You need to come downtown. You won’t believe what happened. There’s bad news. OMG…
Then Mac’s text came in. Treasures Past, owner stabbed. Shit. Murder in Seawolf Beach.
Instead of texting anyone back he dropped his cell in his pocket and stepped into his shoes.
Colt left his ghost-free house and untested new bed and started walking. Fast. Nicole or her mother? Who’d been stabbed? As he neared the commercial area of Seawolf Beach, he got that run he’d been thinking about earlier. His phone vibrated several times, likely providing more information about what had happened, but he didn’t stop to read incoming texts. Better to just get to Treasures Past.
The narrow downtown street was lit with flashing blue and red lights that looked out of place in the quiet night. There was no other movement, not that he could see as he came to a stop well back from the cars and onlookers. County deputies, the old grump Sheriff himself, both Seawolf Beach officers and Mac, as well as a dozen people who lived or worked nearby crowded the street in small groups. They stared at Treasures Past and whispered to one another. A handful of barely-there spirits wafted around them all, unnoticed by everyone but Colt.
He stayed well behind the crowd, stood separate from everyone else as he tried to figure out what had happened without actually asking anyone. Nicole or her mom? Who’d been stabbed? The answers were probably on his phone, in one text or another. The truth was, he’d know soon enough.
As he decided to grab his phone and check the waiting texts, he got his answer. Nicole wasn’t barely there, the way some of the other spirits were. Ghosts were often faded and fuzzy, like an old black and white movie. Nicole was bright and angry, apparently with good reason; she’d been murdered. Her ghost looked fully formed, to Colt at least; she was royally pissed.
“I’m too young to be dead,” she said, shouting in his ear. Even though no one was nearby he tried to pretend he didn’t hear her. Maybe she’d go away.
She didn’t.
“I know you can hear me, and see me.” With that she started to unbutton the blouse she wore. “Look at this, Coltrane Hart. Look! I’ve been trying for months to get you to notice me, but you were always off in your own little world. Well, look at me now!”
He met her eye as she whipped off her blouse and threw it at him. The silky fabric dissolved in mid-air and in an instant was back where it belonged, on Nicole. Well, shit. People already thought he talked to himself. What did it matter if someone saw him now? He could pull out his cell phone and pretend to be talking to a living person on the other end, like he had in the early days, but he didn’t. That always felt like just another lie. Besides, most of these people had seen him talk to himself more than once. Why pretend now?
“What happened?” he asked, eyes on the new ghost.
“No idea,” Nicole said. “I don’t have any heath issues, or didn’t. I’ve always been perfectly healthy! I exercise, I eat vegetables and almost no sugar!” She studied the chaos on the street. “There are a lot of cops here. Did I fall and hit my head? No, not that. Son of a bitch . I didn’t die a natural death, did I? Did some asshole murder me?” She went from confused back to incensed in a heartbeat. “Why?”
Obviously she didn’t recall her final moments, she didn’t know she’d been stabbed. Maybe that was normal; maybe not. He’d never asked a ghost to relive their moment of death, not until Jack just a few days earlier. Surely such a question would be considered rude. Still… “What’s the last thing you remember?”
Nicole sighed, seemed to struggle to recall what had happened. “The store was clearing out. It was almost closing time when this old guy came in. Right away he asked about one of the framed pictures I had stacked against the back wall. I told him I hadn’t had a chance to clean and research those yet, so they weren’t for sale. I suggested he come back next week. He grumbled, insisted he didn’t care if it was clean or not and offered to pay more than I think it’s worth, which made me wonder if maybe it’s valuable. So I said no. Again. Eventually he left. The store was empty so I got busy dusting a display of vases. After that, nothing. I don’t remember! Do you think the old guy who wanted that picture killed me?”
“You don’t know who he is?”
“Not a clue.”
“How old? Did he have any distinguishing features?” It wouldn’t be easy to share any information Nicole gave him with Mac, but he’d find a way. There was no guarantee the grumpy old man was involved, but he was the last person she remembered being there.
“You’re going to find the bastard for me, aren’t you?” she asked.
“I’m going to try. What picture was he interested in?” And why was it worth killing for?
“A duck from the Miller house,” Nicole answered. “I didn’t think it was all that special but the artist is well known and a few of his prints are valuable. Not that valuable, but the old guy really wanted it. I told Nina Miller I’d find out if it was worth more than a few bucks. Maybe it was.”
He knew the print. It had hung in Donnie Miller’s den for as long as Colt could remember. “You never did describe him for me.”
Nicole turned her attention to the store where she’d spent so much time in the past few years. Her expression was less angry, now, more sad, almost lost. “Like I said, he was an old guy, maybe sixty, maybe mid-fifties. No, more like sixty.”
Fifties didn’t seem all that old to Colt these days, but Nicole was — had been — several years younger.
“He had gray hair with a few dark strands hanging on. Kinda heavyset, but not exactly fat. I think he had dentures. His teeth were just too perfect, if you know what I mean. The son of a bitch actually smiled at me when he asked about the stupid duck picture.” She started unbuttoning her blouse again. “Why did you never ask me out? I made it plenty clear I was interested, but you…”
Colt glanced to the side. A handful of people stared at him. The broken guy who talked to himself. The lost man who lived in his own world. “Considering the conversation we’re having right now, that should be obvious.”
“You see other ghosts?”
“All the time.”
“Are there a lot of them?”
“Too damn many,” he muttered.
Nicole threw her blouse at him again, but with less urgency this time. Again it dissolved and ended up back on her body.
“Maybe if you’d told me I would’ve understood.”
“Seriously?”
She had the grace to look contrite. “Probably not.”
“You can move on now, you know,” Colt said. “You’ve told me what you know about your murder, and I swear to you I will do what I can to make sure that whoever stabbed you pays for what he did.”
“I was stabbed, huh? That sucks.”
“Sorry,” Colt muttered.
“Where?” She glanced down, studying the front of her unstained silky blouse.
“I’m not sure.” He hated to be the one to tell Nicole that she’d died violently, but she had a right to know.
The new ghost checked out her torso, then tried to twist around and look at her back, but couldn’t manage.
“You can go,” he said again. “Isn’t there a white light or something? A doorway?”
“No, but even if there was I wouldn’t go. I need to see it,” Nicole whispered. “I want to be here when you nail the bastard.”
“You’ll still see, but from another place.” There was so much he didn’t know. “A better place.” That was the hope, for Nicole. For Lizzie. For everyone.
“What if I don’t? Besides, I don’t know how to go anywhere else. I’m just here like I’ve always been. There’s no white light, no doorway, and my grandpa isn’t standing around trying to guide me anywhere. Everything I ever read about the afterlife is bullshit!”
Mac was headed this way. Colt turned his head toward Nicole. “Please be quiet while I talk to the chief. It won’t help matters if he thinks I’m crazy.”
She screwed up her mouth then stuck out her tongue like an annoyed eight year old, but she did go quiet.
“Why are people drawn to shit like this?” Mac asked. He added, “Go home, ghouls,” under his breath.
“Everyone liked Nicole,” Colt said. “It’s a shock.”
“Is that why you’re here? Because you’re shocked?”
“Can’t sleep, and people keep texting me about what happened, you included, so here I am.”
Mac snorted and studied the crowd. “You know, the killer is probably here, watching.”
“If it was the old guy, he’s not,” Nicole said loudly.
Colt ignored her, as best he could. She seemed convinced, but there was no guarantee the man who’d wanted the duck picture had stabbed her. She hadn’t seen him do it, didn’t remember. Someone could’ve come in after him. Still… why would anyone kill Nicole? He searched the crowd and saw a lot of familiar faces, mainly other business owners and a handful of emergency personnel, including Tuck who wasn’t wearing his usual easy smile. Colt recognized a couple of the other volunteer firefighters. He’d gone to school with several of them. No old guy, other than the fella who’d recently opened an ice cream shop the next block over.
“You might be right,” Colt said. “TV shows always say the murderer returns to the scene of the crime. Any idea who it is?”
“If I had a clue, I couldn’t tell you.”
“Yeah, I get it.”
“I told you too much already, but you knew a lot of the business owners, including Nicole. I thought maybe y’all were close, but I couldn’t be sure. Anyway, the Sheriff is in charge. He’s already pissed that I talked to your girl Anna before he did…”
“You talked to Anna? Why?”
Nicole had to speak up. “Why do you look like that when you say her name, but I was off limits because you see ghosts?”
“She was the last one to see the victim, other than a couple of tourists no one else saw,” Mac said. “That we’ve found, so far.”
“Last to see Nicole other than whoever killed her,” Colt added, wondering how he could tell Mac about the man who wanted the duck. How could he ask if that picture was missing? By the way, is there a framed picture of a duck near the body? Nope. There was no logical way to explain away that inquiry.
Mac looked at Colt in a different way. They went out for a drink at a bar downtown now and then, watched football, shared the occasional pizza and six pack. Colt didn’t have many friends, these days. His old buds from high school remembered the old Colt, the boy he’d been. Mac only knew Colt as he was today. The chief didn’t seem to mind having a friend with a few quirks.
This look was new. It was… suspicious.
“She had a thing for you,” Mac said.
“Anna?”
“The victim.”
“My name is Nicole!” she shouted. “Jerk,” she added in a lowered voice. “ The victim .”
“I don’t think so,” Colt said, even though he’d just learned differently.
“I’m not known for my subtlety, Hart,” Nicole hissed.
“According to Anna Miller, she asked about you a short time before she died.”
“He makes it sound like I just dropped over dead for no reason. I was murdered , asshole.” Nicole moved closer to Mac. She leaned in and sniffed at his jaw. “An asshole, but a cute one. I should’ve gotten into trouble a time or two so I could’ve made the chief’s acquaintance. Since you wouldn’t give me the time of day, I could’ve tried to make you jealous by banging this one’s brains out.”
She kissed Mac on the cheek. He reached up and wiped at his cheek as if a bug were buzzing there, actually looked for an insect as his hand fluttered.
Good luck waving Nicole away…
Her mother had been asleep for hours, but Anna couldn’t even think about closing her eyes. Nicole. Colt. That very suspicious and oddly yummy police chief. Her mind would not be still! Her boring job in Nashville took on an unusual appeal, at the moment.
She was still mortified about this afternoon’s miserably failed attempt at seduction. The logical explanation was that Colt didn’t want her, but she knew that wasn’t true the same way she knew that tomorrow morning the sun would rise. The tides would ebb and flow. She’d seen the truth in the way he looked at her, in the way he reached for her hand. The kiss had been fantastic. That couldn’t have been one-sided.
Since she was already mortified, why be shy now? She grabbed her phone to type a text. He hadn’t responded to her last one, but this time… maybe, maybe not. Colt could be sound asleep. Asleep or awake, he might ignore her. If he continued to ignore her, she’d know she didn’t have a chance.
Nicole had been bold, much bolder than Anna had ever been. Now the redhead was dead and everything in her life that was undone would remain undone forever. Nicole’s unrealized dreams would remain unrealized; tomorrow would never come.
Life is short. Eat dessert first. If you want something go for it, even if you have to try, try again.
She started simply. Awake?
The answer came in quickly. Yes.
She could make small talk, ask how he was, text about the fine weather, but why bother? Want company?
She waited without so much as taking a breath. The pause was a few seconds longer than she thought it should be before the answer came. I’m at the Pine Street house. I’ll come get you.
The wind in her lungs left in a rush. She didn’t need to be collected, but she got it. It was late and a woman they both knew had just been murdered. Either of those things would be enough to make a man of proper upbringing insist on offering an escort. She could hope he simply couldn’t wait to see her, that he had to see her now. Wishful thinking…
Anna popped out of bed, turned on the light, and stripped off her pajamas. She grabbed a sundress out of the closet and pulled it on, then stepped into a pair of flip flops. Yes, it was a late September night, but this was also the gulf coast and the days, and nights, were still pleasant. If she was lucky she wouldn’t be wearing anything for very long.
She grabbed her small purse, since she’d need the keys to sneak back into the house before her mother woke, and stopped before her small mirror just long enough to apply a swipe of pink lipstick.
“Here I come, Coltrane Hart.” If at first you don’t succeed…
The floor beneath her feet seemed to shudder; the curtains fluttered. Anna dismissed both as the tremors her mother occasionally complained about. She really needed to get someone in to check that out. She doubted it was earthquakes, but there could be a problem with faulty plumbing, or a wonky heat and air system. Something else to handle before they sold the house.
But not tonight.