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‘So, what now? We have no idea when Leesha’s coming back, and you can’t really leave the house because you have a drunken baby to look after,’ George said, as said baby snorted loudly.
‘I-’
Ding dong. Saved by the bell.
‘-am going to answer the door,’ I replied smoothly.
It was Dan Rathers. I checked the hallway clock. Yup, still morning. Man, he was earlier than I expected.
‘Sup,’ I nodded at him. George grimaced.
‘What do you know about her?’ the chief greeted me.
‘My mom?’ I blurted out. He gave me a funny look. What? She was on my mind.
‘Think he means Izzy,’ George helpfully whispered.
I thanked him.
Cue a funnier look. Again, what? My house, my ghosts.
‘How did you know?’ he asked instead, deflated. He looked like he hadn’t slept all night. Hey, maybe he hadn’t. I did say he was a good cop. Sleep deprivation does not stand in the way of justice.
Although, he probably shouldn’t have driven here.
‘Know what?’
‘The pantyhose. In the sewer.’
‘Holy crap, they were still there? I would’ve thought they’d have fallen days ago,’ I answered, surprised. Even more surprised that a lucy actually told the truth.
‘How did you know?’ he repeated, a little more forcefully.
‘You know how I know. Why do you have to do this every single time? I’ve never changed my answer,’ I sighed.
Seriously, every single time. Like I was suddenly going to go, “okay, you got me! I lied this entire time. I knew all this stuff because of... magic? Really good guesswork? Um, I was actually the killer all along?” What answer would actually be better or more believable than ghosts?
Clearly, I’d disappointed him yet again. Conflicted, he glanced back at the rigid safety of his law vehicle, and back to my weird house where the dead are the sane ones.
‘Okay, I have other things to do today,’ I said, glancing at my bare wrist.
‘Like what?’ murmured George.
‘So, if you want to come back another time, go ahead,’ I finished with dignity.
Meaning, I air-elbowed George.
Rathers closed his eyes, either deeply meditating or praying to a higher being. When he opened his eyes, he looked like a condemned man.
Okay, he was staying.
‘I don’t want anyone to find out about this,’ he said, majorly embarrassed.
‘Fine by me. Just don’t tell my dad. He’ll get my meds upped.’
‘You’re taking medication?’ he asked, gently closing the door behind him.
‘As of yesterday. My dad wants me to stop being ill so much, I’m taking pills that make me ill. I’ve nearly thrown up about eight times already, although the sickness is fading a little now. Huh, maybe I’ve gotten used to it already,’ I shrugged, leading him into a living room without a sleeping man.
‘You should’ve taken the pill an hour ago,’ George said.
Oh, that explained it.
‘And do you still...?’
‘You just saw me elbow thin air, so I think that answers your question,’ I sighed. ‘Yes, I still see ghosts. I just get the side effects of medication instead of the actual intended effect.’
‘That’s sad,’ he sympathized.
‘Sure, but at least I don’t have liver failure!’ I said, listing a drastic side effect.
‘What?’ he blinked at me.
‘Nothing. Coffee?’
‘Um, no,’ he decided, probably thinking about his own liver failing.
We sat down opposite each other and mutually – and silently – opted to ignore small talk. He got his notebook and pen out of his pocket, not removing his coat. I quickly tried to remember all I knew about Izzy.
‘You believe the murder of Elizabeth Turner in 1985 and the murder of Talisha Wright seventeen days ago are connected. Correct?’
‘Yup.’
‘Do you believe the perpetrator is the same?’
‘Yup.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘How do you know it’s a man? Little sexist,’ I chided.
‘It’s a woman?’ he asked in surprise.
‘Oh no, it’s a man. David Schaffer,’ I said.
‘Whoa, you actually told him?’ George asked.
What did he think I was going to do, keep it to myself? How many times, dude? I ain’t a detective.
‘The bullied kid,’ Rathers mused. Didn’t seem like I’d thrown him a curveball.
‘You looked into him?’
‘Not as much as I would’ve done now. I wasn’t a detective back then, and the boyfriend looked to be the best and only suspect. He was found over the body, for Christ’s sakes. He was drunk and angry. He’d already committed at least three offences on the drive over. Everybody on the force had arrested him at least once. I’d only been on duty three days and had already heard about him. It was open-and-shut.’
‘And left slightly ajar,’ I reminded him. ‘You never had the murder weapon.’
‘You know how many loose ends there are in any investigation?’ he argued. ‘There’s no such thing as a perfect case. There’ll always be one little thing that’ll bother you about anything, if you look hard enough. And you know what? It was a windy day. It could’ve blown away. Or, her mom could’ve taken it as the last memory of her daughter. All we knew for certain was that it was thin fabric. Could’ve been anything.’
I suppose. I know myself from lucies that things don’t always add up, because that’s just life. It’d be too easy otherwise.
‘How do you know it was David?’ he continued.
I looked at him in dismay. Really, asking this again?
‘Okay, let me rephrase that. What do you know about David?’
I assumed he didn’t want his depressing backstory.
‘Chuck and Izzy argued in the car on prom night. She stormed off, and dropped her pantyhose-’
‘They were off?’ he interjected.
‘Prom night,’ I repeated. He understood. ‘Chuck presumably drove off somewhere. David had stayed behind to wait until everybody had left. He was walking home, found the pantyhose. Next morning, he dropped by her place to return them. She laughed at him once again, and he flipped. Strangled her, and then, distraught, he cried all the way home.’
He was silent as he jotted the info sludge down. Honestly, from a cop POV, hadn’t given him much. If anything. Besides, it was almost forty years ago. How the hell would you even check that out?
‘Got any proof?’
‘I assume you didn’t get any prints off the pantyhose?’
‘You think I’d be here if we did?’ he retorted.
I’d forgotten, the local medium was always the last resort.
‘Okay, can you ask him where he was on the night Leesha was killed?’
‘Sure, and if he says he can’t remember? Or that he was at home? Look, we questioned everyone around there, but it was a Saturday night. It’s not the only bar in the area. Strangulation is a very quiet method of killing. Nobody would remember a random guy walking out of a dark alley. And if they did, they’d think he was a taking a leak. And as a matter of fact, we took about sixty statements describing one guy who they were all sure was the killer.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Black, Chinese, Middle-Eastern, tall, short, and of course, menacing. I tell you, he seems like a pretty distinguishing person. He’s committed quite a few crimes, this guy. I’m surprised we haven’t caught him yet.’
‘I’ll keep a look out,’ I assured him.
‘Appreciate it,’ he sighed. ‘You got anything else for me?’
‘No,’ I said, as George disagreed.
‘What?’ I asked him. Rathers managed to bite his tongue.
‘Jessica.’
‘Who?’
George groaned, pulling at the toggles on his hoody.
‘Jessica Lee. The other woman who was strangled. I know you pegged Terry for it, but it still could’ve been David.’
‘Oh, of course. Yeah, I might have something,’ I told a severely unimpressed Rathers.
You know, maybe I oughta start vamping a little. Wave my arms about, put incense sticks everywhere, and speak in husky tones about “messages from the other side.” Might actually give me more legitimacy.
‘Jessica Lee,’ I translated from the dead.
‘I don’t know who that is,’ Rathers said, growing irritated.
‘She was murdered five years ago. Strangled in a library she worked at. It could be connected.’
Or, it could not be. Who’s to say, really?
‘Is Izzy telling you all this?’
‘No, that’s not Izzy. That’s somebody else. And kind of, but only because I forgot. I actually looked at this myself. Although, I’m pretty sure it was her colleague. He seemed like a shady guy.’
He glared at me. Whoops, back it up.
‘What did you do?’
‘Nothing! I was basing that on his photo in the news article. He looked weird,’ I said, shuddering for effect.
‘If I find out that you have interfered in another investigation, I will arrest you. I don’t care what your dad or lawyer tries to do. I don’t care what my boss says. I don’t care if I lose my job over this. Do not interfere.’
‘Then, what’s this?’ I countered.
He set his jaw, grinding his pearly whites to nubs. He put his notebook and pen neatly away and stood up.
‘You could’ve been an informant, you know. You could’ve been useful to our investigations. Instead, you’re... this.’
‘Already told you, Chief. My powers don’t work that way.’
He shook his head rigorously, urging his intelligence and common sense to come back.
‘I’ll be in touch,’ he said, taking his leave.
Great. Cannot wait.