Loose Ends (A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery) Page 5

  “Sides, I figured it was time the two of you met,” he said.

  “Why’s that?” Bradley asked, stopping to turn and look at Stanley.

  “You’re a couple of the few people in town with any common sense,” Stanley said, “Thought you might want to work together.”

  “A woman who sees ghosts for a living?” Bradley asked, “She has common sense?”

  Stanley chuckled. “Guess you got a little more learning to do, Chief.”

  Bradley shook his head and started walking again. “I’ve got more things to worry about than Mary O’Reilly.”

  Stanley chuckled again. “Just tell the mayor that the traffic downtown will never recoup the initial cost of the parking meters. Fiscally responsible, that always makes them feel good.”

  Bradley stopped again. “What? You read minds and she sees spirits?”

  Stanley laughed. “See you’re learning already.”

  Stanley put his hand on Bradley’s arm. “This is where I leave you,” he said, “You seemed to be too smart of a man to judge a person on the gossip of others.”

  Bradley smiled. “That was a back-handed compliment if I ever heard one.”

  Stanley nodded. “Don’t disappoint me.”

  Bradley watched Stanley walk into the coffee shop and have every one of the young waitresses stop what they were doing to fawn over him. “He’s simply amazing,” Bradley smiled.

  He turned and continued down the street. A pregnant woman with long brown hair stepped out of the bakery a few doors ahead of him. Bradley caught his breath and quickened his pace to catch her. Jeannine!

  She didn’t move like Jeannine, but that could have changed during the time she’d been gone. Had she come to Freeport? Was she looking for him?

  He was nearly jogging when the woman stopped to look into a shop window. He saw her profile. His stomach clenched. It wasn’t Jeannine. Damn.

  He took a deep breath. When would he finally stop looking for her? When would he move on?

  “Besides,” he reasoned, “she wouldn’t be pregnant anymore. I’d have a daughter. Our daughter. She would be eight years old. If she was alive. If they were both alive.”

  He ran a hand across his forehead and leaned against one of the empty storefronts. He had to get a grip on himself before the people in town thought he was as loony as Mary O’Reilly. He shrugged. Maybe she wasn’t that loony – he saw ghosts everywhere he went, too.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  “So, after you pulled your foot out of your mouth, what did you say?” Rosie asked, sitting on the edge of Mary’s desk and munching on a bag of mini carrots.

  Mary shrugged. “I don’t know… something.”

  Stanley chuckled. “I remember exactly what you said.”

  “Stanley, really, you don’t need to help,” Mary said emphatically.

  “No, I think Rosie needs to understand how you stood up to that Police Chief for the good of all of the small businesses downtown.”

  Rosie raised her eyebrows as she crunched another carrot. “Really,” she munched, “Wow. Good for you, Mary. What did she say?”

  “Stanley, please,” Mary pleaded.

  “She stood right up to that Police Chief and said,...now Mary pay attention and make sure I have this right...she said, ‘Damn it!’ and then she walked away. Did I get that right, Mary?”

  “Good one, Mary,” Rosie laughed, “I always knew you had a way with words.”

  “Thanks for the support, Stanley,” Mary said, “Where would I be without my friends?”

  “You know, I believe that Police Chief’s single,” Stanley said to Rosie, ignoring Mary’s comments.

  “Is that so?” Rosie asked, her eyebrows rising even further. “Was he that very good-looking young man in uniform walking down the street earlier? Had the look of a young Burt Lancaster?”

  “Yes, the very one,” Stanley replied.

  “Well, well,” Rosie said, her gaze turning to Mary.

  “Yes, that’s what I thought too,” Stanley said, nodding in agreement.

  “Excuse me,” Mary said throwing her arms up in the air, “I don’t think I asked for any help with my private affairs.”

  “That’s the problem,” Stanley snorted, “You ain’t having any private affairs.”

  “Stanley! I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “I’m old – not dead.”

  “A young Burt Lancaster,” Rosie sighed and closed her eyes, hugging herself. “I can still picture the beach scene in From Here To Eternity.”

  She shivered. “It still gives me palpitations.”

  Mary shook her head. “Okay, that’s enough; some of us have work to do.”

  “Are you asking us to leave?” Stanley asked.

  “No, I’m kicking you out. Asking would be too nice.”

  Stanley chuckled. “Good of you to be subtle about it.”

  Rosie sniffed. “I’m only going because I have good manners, unlike some people.”

  “Bye. Don’t let the door hit you…”

  The door closed with a snap and Mary collapsed into her chair, trying to control a grin as Stanley and Rosie walked past her picture window and waved.

  “Good grief and they are supposed to be more mature,” she laughed as she turned around to face her desk. She opened the manila envelope Susan had given her the night before and started to scan the content into her computer. As each new document appeared on the screen she gave it a cursory look and then saved it to a computer file. Just as she was clicking on the “Save” button on the next to the last document, a name caught her eye, “Jerry Wiley.”

  “Well, Jerry, what were you up to twenty-four years ago?” she muttered as she pulled the original document out of the scanner. Jerry’s name was included in the list of those attending the party that night. But he wasn’t just an invited guest; Jerry was listed as a member of the Senator’s campaign team.

  “Well, just look at this,” Mary murmured as she read further down the list, “this list is getting more and more interesting.”

  Other than poor Renee, the other members of the campaign team seemed to have done very well for themselves. Jerry Wiley, assistant campaign manager – now editor in chief of the paper. Mike Steele, campaign fund raiser – now president of Freeport National Bank. Hank Montague, campaign manager - now chair of the local Republican Party and mayor of Freeport.

  She looked down the list of the other guests, it read like a who’s-who of local power brokers. Even though Mary was a recent resident of the area, she could recognize most of the names because of their frequent appearance in the paper.

  She needed to know more about the people on this list than a few quotes. She needed dirt – and she knew just the ghost to give it to her. Glancing at the clock on her computer screen, she saw it was almost four o’clock. The newsroom would be crowded with reporters. She’d have to wait until later tonight to get what she needed. In the meantime she would follow some other leads to find out just what it was about Renee Peterson that made someone want to kill her.

  The small subdivision was just west of Freeport in the rural portion of Stephenson County. By larger city standards it wouldn’t have even been considered a subdivision, just a scattering of a dozen small homes with large yards and a few cul-de-sacs. Mary drove her car slowly down the road, not only observing the 25 mph speed limit, but also watching for the address in the dimming evening light.

  Once she found the right house, she parked her car and smiled at the view. Four not-too-scary jack-o-lanterns guarded the front steps. Colorful mums bloomed in the tiny front garden, and ghosts and goblins hung in the front window. She was sorry that she didn’t have a trick or treat bag with her because she was sure this would be one of the houses that gave out really good candy. This was a house that understood kids.

  She climbed the stairs and knocked on the screen door. Immediately she heard a dog’s excited bark and the clicking of paws against wood floor.

  “Ja
ckson, down,” the woman’s voice commanded from the other side of the door. “Andy, grab Jackson.”

  Mary heard a slipping sound and a thump, and then the door was opened by a woman she guessed to be in her late forties. The woman smiled and extended her hand. “Hi, I’m Lisa Merrill.”

  Just past her a large Golden Retriever was on its back next to a small decorative table that was lying on its side. A young man, probably in his early twenties, knelt next to him trying to stand the table up again and control the dog at the same time. But when the dog saw Mary, he quickly rolled over, righted himself and lunged at the door.

  “Jackson, sit,” Mary commanded. Jackson stopped mid-lunge and dropped his large haunches immediately to the ground and looked up to Mary with adoring eyes and a lolling tongue.

  “How in the world did you do that?” the young man asked, pulling himself up from the floor.

  “A trick I learned in a past life,” Mary replied. “Hi, I’m Mary O’Reilly.”

  “Great trick. Please come in,” Lisa said and then motioning to the young man explained. “This is my son, Robbie.”

  “Jackson never listens to us,” Robbie said, “The trainer said that he has a greeting disorder.”

  Mary laughed and patted Jackson’s big head. “So, you have a greeting disorder do you? Well, you make up for it in personality.”

  Jackson wagged his tail and tried to scoot closer to Mary.

  “Robbie, why don’t you put Jackson out in the backyard while I visit with Miss O’Reilly?”

  “Sure mom,” Robbie agreed.

  Lisa led Mary into a simply furnished living room. “I’ve heard about you. You do private investigation, right?”

  Mary nodded. “Yes, I have an office in the old Hawthorne Building.”

  “That’s a great old building,” Lisa said, “Good place for an office. So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I wanted to ask you about Renee Peterson,” Mary said, watching Lisa for an initial reaction.

  Lisa sat back on the couch and clasped her hands together tightly. “Renee Peterson,” she said softly. “Wow. That really takes me back.

  “She and I were roommates. I was going to school part time and working at JC Penney. Renee was working for the Senator, on his campaign.”

  “What kind of roommate was she?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know, we were both young and fairly easy-going. If the dishes didn’t get done right away, no one cared. But, I always knew I could count on her and I think she knew she could count on me.”

  “On the night she died, what do you remember?”

  “She seemed so excited about the party,” Lisa said, “She went into town early to have a couple of last minute alterations to her dress.”

  She shook her head and looked directly at Mary. “For the longest time I blamed myself. I mean, what if it hadn’t been an accident? What if she killed herself? Shouldn’t I have been able to tell if she was depressed? Shouldn’t I have been able to stop her before she committed suicide?”

  Mary leaned forward. “What if it wasn’t accidental or a suicide?”

  Lisa’s eyes widened. “But then, that would mean…”

  “That someone killed her,” Mary supplied, sitting back in her chair.

  Lisa was confused. “Why would anyone want to kill her? She wouldn’t have hurt anyone. She was so sweet, so…”

  “So in love with the Senator,” Mary supplied.

  Lisa looked surprised. She studied Mary for a moment and nodded. “Yes, she was very much in love with Ryerson. But, she wasn’t, you know, promiscuous.”

  “Did she have other relationships?” Mary asked, “An old boyfriend or someone who was interested in her?”

  “No,” Lisa said, “She was pretty sheltered. I don’t think she dated much in high school or in college, for that matter. She was pretty mature for her age. I think Ryerson was her, um, first, if you know what I mean. She really loved him.”

  “What did you think about the relationship?”

  Lisa shrugged. “Okay, well, I didn’t really know the man; I only knew what Renee told me. But I didn’t think too highly of a guy who slept with one of his employees behind his wife’s back. I mean, really, that’s just sleazy.”

  “Did Renee think it was sleazy?”

  “Oh, no, she thought he was wonderful. She said he was going to leave his wife for her.”

  “Did she think the baby would make a difference?”

  Lisa froze. “How did you know that she was pregnant?”

  Mary shrugged, quietly pleased that Lisa had indeed confirmed the pregnancy. “It’s what I do.”

  Lisa nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, she found out on election day. She got one of those home pregnancy kits because she had missed her period, but she didn’t want anyone to know.”

  “So she told him?”

  Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know. She said that she was going to tell him after the party.”

  “Did anyone else know about it?”

  Lisa shook her head. “No, I’m sure she wouldn’t have told anyone else. She would have never jeopardized Ryerson’s future.”

  “Perhaps someone else who worked on the campaign with them, someone she could trust?”

  “No, she didn’t really get along with the other members of the campaign team. They were from the good old boys club and treated her like their personal secretary rather than Ryerson’s assistant. She wouldn’t have told them.”

  “Did Renee and Ryerson have any special place they met?”

  Lisa thought for a moment. “Yeah, there was some garden in the back of the estate. It was a little way from the house. It was a hidden garden with a heated pool. She told me they would sneak away and meet there all the time. She called it their secret paradise.

  “That’s where they found her,” Lisa continued, her eyes widening in understanding. “I hadn’t put it together before, but that’s where she drowned.

  “Do you think that he...,” she stopped and put her hand over her mouth. “All these years, why didn’t anyone investigate her death?”

  “Because everyone assumed that she drowned,” Mary said.

  “I can’t believe it,” Lisa said, “What will her parents think?”

  Mary moved forward in her chair. “Lisa, I haven’t spoken with her parents yet,” Mary explained. “And at this point, I’m hesitant to do so until I can find more concrete information about the case. Do you understand?”

  Lisa nodded. “Yeah, why bring something up if you can’t prove it,” she said, “They would just have to relive her death again.”

  “Exactly,” Mary said, “I know you kept Renee’s confidence about her pregnancy for all of these years. Can you keep this confidence until I learn more?”

  “Yes. Yes, I can,” she said, “You’re going to figure this out, aren’t you? You’ll find out who did this.”

  Mary nodded. “I promise.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Mary pulled up to the front of her office and parked. Although it seemed a little dramatic, she had dressed in all black to be sure she didn’t attract attention.

  Mary acknowledged the downtown had a different feeling at night. The stores were closed, the people were gone, just buildings that sat waiting for the next day to come. Even the shadows of the past were different: the distraught teen waiting at the Greyhound Bus Stop, the secretary and her boss sneaking out a side door, and the broken-down drunk sipping from his brown paper sack. The shadows only appeared for a moment and then faded away like mist in a field. It was all slightly creepy.

  She locked her car and headed down Main Street. She’d decided that parking in front of her office and walking made more sense. She didn’t want anyone asking questions about why her very distinct car was parked in the Freeport Republic lot at 1 a.m.

  She jumped when she caught someone lurking behind a streetlight post. “Damned scarecrows,” she swore when she realized the stalker was made of plywood.
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br />   She walked to the back of the building and pulled herself up on the loading dock. She knew the building would be locked, but because her contact had had a penchant for smoking, she figured Anna would find her way out to the dock for a cigarette break.

  Mary settled herself on a stack of pallets and leaned back against the wall. She didn’t have to wait too long. In a matter of moments, Anna Paxton glided out of the building and hovered over the dock.

  “Anna,” Mary called and was amused to have startled the ghost. “I have a deal for you.”

  “Why would I want to deal with a second-rate private eye?” she sneered. “You aren’t even in my league.”

  “Hey, you give me information and I give you the scoop of a lifetime,” Mary said, hoping Anna wouldn’t realize that giving her a scoop would do her absolutely no good.

  Anna eyed Mary with suspicion. “What kind of scoop?”

  “Okay Anna, here’s the deal...do you want the scoop or not?” Mary shrugged, “Hey, it’s okay. I can always ask your replacement.”

  An angry hiss escaped the ghostly form and she moved closer. “She’s nothing but a no-talent bitch,” Anna sneered. “She doesn’t deserve a scoop.”

  Mary shrugged. “Yeah, well, if I can’t have the best, I’ll have to settle for the imitator.”

  Anna slowly smiled. “Yessss, that’s what she is – an imitator. Trying to be me, trying to replace me. No one can do that.”