Deadly Circumstances Read online

  Deadly Circumstances

  A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  (Book Sixteen)

  by

  Terri Reid

  DEADLY CIRCUMSTANCES – A MARY O’REILLY PARANORMAL MYSTERY

  by

  Terri Reid

  Copyright © 2015 by Terri Reid

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/ use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  The author would like to thank all those who have contributed to the creation of this book: Richard Reid, Sarah Powers and Hillary Gadd. Also, thank you to the wonderful folks at the Joiner History Room, DeKalb County Archives, Sycamore, Illinois and Sue Breese, their director, for not only helping with the research for this book, but also allowing me to feature Fred in the story. Of course, this book would not have been nearly as much fun without Margo Taylor letting me bring her along for the ride. So, thanks to Margo and my dear friend, Ann Charles, another one of those odd mystery writers.

  She would also like to thank all of the wonderful readers who walk with her through Mary and Bradley’s adventures and encourage her along the way. I hope we continue on this wonderful journey for a long time.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-one

  Chapter Forty-two

  Chapter Forty-three

  Chapter Forty-four

  Chapter Forty-five

  Chapter Forty-six

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Chapter Forty-nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Chapter Fifty-one

  Chapter Fifty-two

  Chapter Fifty-three

  Chapter Fifty-four

  Chapter Fifty-five

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  Chapter Sixty

  Prologue

  The two-lane highway snaked through the rolling hills, farmland and woods of Northwest Illinois. The sun was low in the sky, setting the autumn colors in the trees ablaze with light. It had been a perfect Indian summer day, bright blue sky, temperatures in the high sixties and a refreshing breeze in the air. But the day was ending, and as red-tailed hawks drifted high in the sky above their car, Shirley Koch broke the uncomfortable silence that had been their passenger for nearly twenty minutes.

  “We need to talk about it,” she said, sitting in the passenger seat of their black sedan as they drove along the winding roads that led to the small tourist town of Galena, Illinois.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Frasier Koch, her husband, stated firmly, keeping his eyes on the twisting and hilly highway.

  “Well, whether you want to or not, we’ve got to,” Shirley argued. “It’s out there now and it’s got to be addressed.”

  He glanced quickly in her direction and tightened his lips. Even though they’d been married for over fifty years, she still didn’t understand him.

  “Oh, I understand you all right,” Shirley said, surprising him by reading his thoughts. “I’m just not going to let you get away with it this time. He hurt your feelings.”

  With a soft sigh, Frasier shook his head. “What you don’t understand is that men don’t have to get in touch with their feelings,” he explained. “We get mad, we hit something and then we get over it. I’ll get over it.”

  Shirley snorted. “You’d like me to believe that,” she replied. “But in reality, you get hurt and then you take your bad mood out on the people you love and trust.”

  “I would never do that,” he replied quickly, but a look of disbelief was Shirley’s only response. He sighed and nodded. “Okay, I might do that. Occasionally. But really, I don’t need to talk about it.”

  “Really?” she asked skeptically. “Your own son treats you with little or no respect just because you won’t loan him more money.”

  Frasier shrugged. “I guess he was counting on me.”

  “He needs to learn to count on himself,” his wife replied and then her voice softened. “We both love Eddie. We both want what’s best for him. But, at this point in his life, he shouldn’t be relying on his parents.”

  “Well, it’s all going to be his once we’re gone,” he replied.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a lot more living to do,” Shirley said with a smile. “You promised to take me to Europe.”

  “What?” he exclaimed. “I never promised to take you to Europe. I told you we could visit your sister in Texas.”

  She shrugged. “What’s the difference?” she asked. “You get packed, you get on a plane, you get off a plane and all around you everyone speaks with a funny accent. We might as well go to Europe.”

  He chuckled as he started to slow to take a turn, but the chuckle turned to a gasp when he pressed the brake and the car didn’t slow.

  “Hey, Mario, you took that corner pretty fast,” Shirley remarked, grabbing hold of the door handle and pressing her feet against the floorboards. “You want to slow down?”

  “Can’t,” Frasier gasped as he white-knuckled the steering wheel. “There’s something wrong with the brakes.”

  “Can you put it in a lower gear?” she asked.

  Frasier shifted the car down into second gear. He winced as he heard the transmission groan in protest. But the car continued to accelerate as it rushed down the steep hi
ll.

  “We’re coming to that hairpin curve,” Shirley exclaimed, her breath coming out in frightened gasps. "You've got to slow the car down.”

  “I’m trying sweetheart,” Frasier replied, sweat rolling down his face. “I’m trying.”

  The yellow sign warned of the turn and cautioned that the maximum speed for the curve was thirty-five miles per hour. Frasier glanced down at the speedometer, he was going over eighty. “I love you, Shirley,” he whispered as he leaned into the curve.

  “I love you, too, Frasier,” she called back.

  She reached over and put her hand on his arm just before the car broke through the guardrail and tumbled into the ditch, rolled over several times, and finally crashed upside-down into a utility pole. Except for the front tire turning drunkenly on a twisted axle, there was no other movement from the car.

  Chapter One

  Mary O’Reilly-Alden woke up with someone kicking her in the ribs, from the inside out. “Ouch,” she whispered, rubbing her swollen stomach softly. “You need to be nicer to your mommy.”

  “Are you okay?” Bradley murmured, rolling over and peering over his wife’s shoulder.

  “Your son is abusing me,” Mary replied with a soft smile. “He seems to think that my ribs were created for soccer practice.”

  Leaning closer and placing a kiss on her neck, Bradley shook his head. “Football practice,” he said. “He’s going for the extra point.”

  “Soccer,” Mary insisted. “That way no one tackles him.”

  “Football,” Bradley insisted. “But he can be the placekicker, so he only goes out on the field occasionally and makes lots of money.”

  Mary looked up at him. “He won’t get tackled?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

  “The opposing team isn’t supposed to tackle the kicker,” Bradley said. “It’s called roughing the kicker.”

  Mary looked down at her belly. “So, what do you think, Mikey?” she asked. She bent her head forward as if she could hear him. “Ah, well, that makes sense.”

  Grinning, Bradley met Mary’s eyes. “And what did he say?” he asked.

  Mary smiled back at him. “He said he wants to be a swimmer, like his daddy,” Mary replied.

  “Oh, he did, did he?” he asked, rolling Mary over towards him. “What if I ask him?”

  “Be my guest,” she said, lifting her pajama top to expose her belly.

  Laying his head on her belly, his face turned towards Mary’s, he whispered, “Mikey, it’s Daddy. We have to have a serious conversation here.”

  Mary giggled, and her stomach moved. “Hey, no interference,” he said with a smile.

  “Sorry,” she smiled back.

  “So, Mikey, how do you feel about football?” he asked.

  Suddenly Mary’s stomach shifted, and Bradley felt a foot shoved against his cheek. Surprised, Bradley jumped away from Mary. “Whoa, he’s got a powerful kick,” he exclaimed.

  “Tell me about it,” Mary replied sardonically.

  “Well, that pretty much settles it,” Bradley said.

  “Settles what?” Mary asked.

  “He has to be a placekicker,” Bradley replied. “With a kick like that, he’d be propelled right out of the water.”

  Laughing softly, Mary folded her hands over her stomach and shook her head. “I’m afraid your father is going to be disappointed, Mikey,” Mary said to her unborn child.

  Bradley sighed dramatically and then leaned over and kissed Mary. “That’s okay, I disappointed my dad, too,” he said.

  Wrapping her arms around his neck, she shook her head. “I can’t believe that you ever disappointed anyone, Bradley Alden,” she replied. “Least of all your father.”

  “Well,” he said with a casual shrug, “it’s a long story.”

  She studied him for a moment. The attempt at a casual shrug was the clue. There was a lot more to this story than he was saying. “Tell me,” she prompted.

  Lifting his head, he sniffed the air. “It’s a miracle,” he whispered.

  She smiled at him, playing along. “What’s a miracle?”

  “There is bacon cooking in my house, and neither you nor I are downstairs in the kitchen,” he replied, wagging his eyebrows.

  “Ma,” she said with a happy smile. “Can we just keep her here?”

  “Your dad might argue,” Bradley supplied.

  “He’s so selfish,” Mary replied with a grin.

  Rolling off the bed, Bradley picked up both his and Mary’s robe. “So, do we take the time to wash up and get dressed so we’re decent?” he asked. “Or do we just throw on our robes and hurry downstairs?”

  “Well, let’s see,” Mary said, slowly sliding out of the bed. “It’s more than likely Clarissa, my parents, my brothers, Ian, Rosie and Stanley, and the entire Brennan family will be downstairs.”

  Bradley lifted the robe and then glanced at the bathroom door. “So?” he asked.

  Grabbing the robe from him, Mary slipped it on with a smile. “So we go downstairs with our robes on before they eat all the bacon.”

  Chuckling, Bradley slipped on his robe. “Brilliant assessment, my dear,” he laughed.

  Chapter Two

  “You’re finally awake,” Clarissa cried as Mary and Bradley came down the stairs. True to Mary’s hypothesis, the entire first floor of their home was filled with their family and friends.

  “I tried to get him to wake up earlier,” Mary said, elbowing Bradley lightly. “But he’s such a lazy head.”

  Placing his arm around her shoulders, he smiled. “Well, it’s just because I lead such a boring life,” he teased.

  Margaret O’Reilly bustled forward, an apron tied around her waist. “Well, there’s two seats at the end of the table ready for you,” she said. “And how would you like your eggs?”

  “Really, Ma,” Mary began, “you don’t—”

  “Sit yourself down, young lady,” her mother interrupted. “And tell me how you’d like those eggs.”

  “Scrambled, ma’am,” Mary replied obediently with a smile. She leaned over and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Ma.”

  “And you, young man?” she asked Bradley.

  He leaned over, too, and planted a kiss on her other cheek. “Sunnyside up,” he said. “And I’ll sit down immediately.”

  “Good boy,” Ma replied with a grin, turning back to the stove to start their eggs.

  “I wasn’t brave enough to ask her about bacon,” Bradley whispered to Mary.

  “Auch, you don’t have to worry about that,” Ian said, coming up behind them. “She’s been guarding the bacon like a she-bear guards her cubs. Three pieces for each person, and if there’s enough leftover once everyone has eaten, then you can come back.”

  Mary chuckled. “That’s my mom.”

  She sat down, and Ian slid a small paper-toweled covered plate in front of her. “What’s this?” she asked.

  “Appetizers,” Ian said with a wink.

  Uncovering the plate, she found three small slices of the cheesecakes they’d had for dessert the night before. “Oh, Ian,” she breathed. “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t I get cheesecake in the morning?” Bradley grumbled.

  “Because you don’t look fresh-as-a-daisy and incredibly sexy even with no makeup on at seven months pregnant,” Ian replied easily.

  Mary blushed slightly. “Thank you, Ian,” she replied. “I don’t even need the cheesecake now, I feel so good.”

  Bradley sighed. “Well, I’m depressed,” he teased. “Ian doesn’t think I look sexy.”

  Mary nearly spit out her first bite of cheesecake. “Ah, well, don’t worry dear,” she soothed. “You really aren’t Ian’s type.”

  “Eggs up,” Margaret called from across the room, removing the eggs from the griddle and sliding them onto a plate already filled with bacon and toast. Before she glanced their way, Bradley deftly dropped the napkin over the cheesecakes and slid them onto the chair next to them.

  “Well do
ne,” Ian whispered.

  “My hero,” Mary added.

  “This is what you need,” her mother said, putting the plates in front of them. “Good hearty food to start the day.” She looked at Ian for a moment. “And then once you finish your breakfast, you can eat the treats this scallywag absconded for you.”

  “Yes, Ma,” Mary replied, biting back a smile.

  “Pardon, Mrs. O’Reilly,” Ian added, feeling like a ten year-old schoolboy.

  Once Margaret had walked away from the table, Mary exhaled softly. “She has eyes in the back of her head,” she whispered.

  “Aye, and an extra set of ears, too,” Margaret called from across the room.

  The three adults stared at each other for just a moment and then Mary and Bradley dug into their breakfast. “Where’s Mike?” Mary asked Ian between bites.

  “He said something about meeting with a couple that had visited your closet last night,” Ian said, his look puzzled. “Did I get that right?”

  Mary smiled and nodded. “Yes, at least one of them wasn’t quite aware of the new rules,” she said. “Did he say where he was going to meet them?”

  “Your office,” he replied. “He said he’d let you know anything he found out.”

  “How about some milk?” Bradley asked Mary.

  “I’d love some,” she replied.

  When he stood, Ian leaned a little closer to Mary and handed her an envelope. “He also asked me to give you this,” he whispered.

  Mary opened it and found an invitation to Bradley’s high school reunion. “It’s tonight,” she said softly. “I wonder why he didn’t mention it to me.”

  “Mike figured it was either because he thought you would be too tired or he completely forgot about it,” Ian said with a smile. “But Mike also thought that this was the first reunion Bradley would be able to go to without bad memories about Jeannine. He really thought you should go.”

  “Well then,” Mary said, with a shrug. “I guess we’ll go.”

  Chapter Three

  Two hours later, their house was not only quiet but also neat and tidy. Mary was sitting on the couch, regretting the blueberry muffin she’d been tempted to eat on top of everything else that morning. “I ate too much,” she moaned softly, stretching out on the couch.