All Things Lost (10 page)

The world kept on turning even without my moment of lucidity. The insurance company decided that my car was a total loss. The accident, on the other hand, turned out not to be a total loss. One day, while I was talking to Mr. Novak on the phone about the accident, he mentioned that his assistant had recently taken another job. I asked him if he would consider hiring me even though I didn't have any real experience and he hired me on the spot. I was in the PI business! I was envisioning high-speed car chases, breaking into buildings at
midnight
, wearing all black, and packing a gun. Reality turned out to be a lot more boring, as it so often does. I mostly answered the phone, typed on the computer and filed. I was more of a secretary than an assistant, but at least I was making money. It seemed that most of the cases Novak accepted were insurance scam investigations and an occasional divorce case.

I had my own desk in the small reception room of Novak's office, which was on the second floor of a modern, soulless building in the small city of
Salisbury
. Besides my rather battered desk, the only other furnishings in the front room were two bright orange fake leather chairs that looked like they have been rejects from a 70's era doctor's office. Novak's office was neat as a pin. The walls were lined with bookcases filled to the brim with books. The top of his large desk was always clear and looked as if he never used it.

Steve was going ahead full force with his plans to buy
Amalie's
house. The real estate company, apparently ecstatic that someone was seriously interested in buying the white elephant, had come down a considerable amount. The bank had approved everything and everyone involved was amazed at how quickly things were moving. Steve was on cloud nine. He and Adam went shopping for period antique furniture almost every day. Adam still seemed to be in some kind of weird funk, but the only way you could really tell was by the abundance of pies, tarts and cookies around the house.

One day, about a week before Steve was to go to settlement, the door to Novak's office swung open and in walked Judy. She breezed into the office as if she owned the place, took a look around and shook her head in disappointment. Her hair had grown out quite a bit since the last time I'd seen her. Her golden blonde locks now fell to just below her shoulders. She was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a slightly oversized t-shirt with PFLAG written on it in large rainbow colored letters.

“Dearest Killian, I thought you would have had more taste than this. Can't you do something to make this seem like a place you want to be?”

I grinned and jumped up, “Aunt Judy! I didn't even know you were here.”

“Oh God, please, drop the aunt stuff. It's Judy. And I've been here exactly twenty-two hours. We got in yesterday and what's the first thing I hear? That my mule-headed nephew and his equally mule-headed boyfriend, who I am very fond of by the way, have broken up. So of course I headed right for your house and they sent me here. I met Steve by the way. I'll be helping to decorate new homestead.”

“You mean the house in Amityville?”

“Yes, well, someone mentioned something about a ghost but I've found that many of ghost stories are just romantic ideas and overactive imaginations. We'll see. But really dear, couldn't you have done
something
with this room?”

“I've only been here a few weeks,” I protested.

“A few weeks?
I could transform this place in a few hours.”

“But that's your job now, or so I understand. But I'm sure you didn't come all the way here to give me decorating tips. What's up?”

“Does something have to be up to see an old friend?”

“No, I guess not.”

“I wanted to see how you were. I could see how Asher was and I could guess how you were, but I wanted to see for myself.”

“How is Asher?” I said as nonchalant as possible.

“You can go see for yourself.”

“I've tried. He won't see me.”

“Ah. Well, it's not exactly my place to say really.”

     I frowned, “How am I then?”

     “You're confused.”

     “I hate how you do that.”

     “Do what?”

     “How you're always right.”

     “I'm not always right. Besides, this has nothing to do with any special perception on my part. Confusion is written all over your face.
Especially when I mentioned Asher.
See, there it goes again. You don't know how you feel about him do you?”

     “Yes, I mean no. I mean…I know I love him…”

     “You're just not sure if that's enough anymore.”

     “Yeah, something
like
that.”

     “It isn't always enough for some people, you know. And then for some people it's too much. For some it's everything, and those are the most blessed.”

     “I don't understand what's happening. I thought we were perfect.”

     “No relationship is perfect, Killian. In every relationship there will be rough patches; fights, misunderstandings, periods of confusion. The true test of a couple is if they are strong enough to fight through these places and come out stronger on the other side.”

     “But Asher doesn't seem to want to fight through this. He just gave up.”

     “It takes two to give up. It doesn't seem to me like you've been doing much fighting either.”

     “How can I fight when he doesn't want the same things I do?”

     “First you have to know what you are fighting for. Right now, I don't think either of you knows what you want.”

     “Will we get back together?”

     “Sweetie, I'm not a fortune-telling gypsy at a carnival sideshow. I can't look into some magic crystal ball and see whatever I want. Sometimes things are shown to
me,
I can't explain it and I don't really have a lot of control over it. I try to respond to what is shown to me as best I can, because I figure it's shown to me for a reason. Some time I'm quite lost as to what that reason is.”

     This was starting to remind me of my conversation with Steve that day after looking at the house for the first time. “Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked.

     “Where did that come from? Are you trying to change the subject?”

     “No.
Maybe.
What you were saying made me think of the ghost though. I said I didn't really believe in ghosts and Steve said it wasn't that big a jump from you to ghosts.”

     “Gee, that really makes a girl feel special. I remind him of dead folk?”

     “I don't think that's what he meant.”

     “I know, dear. I'm teasing. To answer your question, yes, I do believe in ghosts, but I guess that really depends on what your definition of a ghost is. We use the term pretty broadly you know. Some are spirits left behind from a sudden, often violent death. They are confused and don't fully realize they are dead. Some seem to have unfinished business to attend to and they simply can't move on. Some are simply emotional impressions left behind after someone dies.”

     “Which of those do you think
Amalie
is?”

     
“Who?”

     
“The ghost in the house that Steve is buying.”

     “I don't really know the whole story; Steve just mentioned in passing that it was supposedly haunted.” She frowned, “He actually seemed a bit jazzed at the idea.”

     “Yeah, he's been like that ever since we saw it for the first time.”

     
“Must be some house.”

     “It is, but I think he's more excited about the ghost than the house.”

     “Tell me about this ghost. What did you say her name was, Emily?”

     “
Amalie
,” I corrected. I told her the whole story as best I could recall it from
Victoria
's account. When I finished, Judy thought for a moment.

     “I'd like to do some research on this
Amalie
. It sounds a trifle too romantic to be a real ghost story. I'd like some clearer history and of course I'll have to go out to the house.”

     “Well you'll be there anyway if you're going to be helping decorate. I guess that'll be your first big job out here, huh?”

     “Yes, I'm hoping to use that as advertisement. A showplace like that could be quite a feather in my cap.”

     We were interrupted by the arrival of my boss.

     “Judy Davis, this is my boss Shane Novak,” I said making the requisite introductions.

     “It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Novak,” Judy said with a bright smile.

     “The pleasure is all
mine
,” Novak said, “And please, call me Shane.”

     The phone rang, distracting me from their conversation, although I overheard Judy offering to redecorate the office.

     “Hello, Novak Investigations. How can I help you?” I said into the phone.

     
“Killian?”
It was Asher.

     “Hi,” I said uncertainly.

     “I need your help.”

     “What?”

     “There's been a murder.”

Chapter 6

     My first discernable thought was, “Oh no, not another one.” It had been less than six months since Aidan's murder and only a little over a year and a half since the harrowing events that eventually led to me shooting a serial killer. It didn't seem possible that death had once again struck close to me and it had to be close to me or Asher wouldn't be calling me.

     
“Who?”
I asked when I finally found my voice. My dread must have been evident in my voice because both Judy and Novak turned to look at me.

     “Do you remember the kid I was telling you about, Caleb?”

     
“The one whose dad beat him up?”

     
“Yeah.”

“His dad killed him?”

     “No, Caleb's ok. It's his dad.”

     “His dad was killed?” Why was Asher calling to tell me this? I didn't even know Caleb, let alone his dad. Why did he think I would care? I didn't dare say that though, at least Asher was talking to me.

     Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Judy motion Novak into his office. He followed her in with a slightly bewildered expression and she closed the door behind them.

     “Have you been watching the news lately?”

     
“No, why?”

     “Have you heard about that murder?”

     “I guess not.”

     “How could you miss it? It's been all over the news. It was Caleb's dad. He was hacked up with an ax and then burned up with the house.”

     “Lovely, thanks for calling and sharing such a wonderful mental image with me. I couldn't have got through my day without hearing that.”

     “Killian, this is serious. The police think Caleb did it.”

     “Did he?” I asked automatically.

     
“No, of course not!”

     “How do you know?”

     “Because he told
me
and I believe him.”

     “Then why do the police think he did it?”

     “You know how he was taken away from his dad a few weeks ago? They decided not to charge his dad with anything because he told the investigators that Caleb attacked him and it was self-defense. So instead of his dad going to jail Caleb got sent to a group home for troubled kids. He ran away a few days ago, just before the murder, so the police just assume he did it.”

     “Asher, you don't know that he didn't. Maybe it happened just like his dad said. Maybe Caleb did attack his dad and it was self-defense. Maybe he did go back and kill him.”

     “No, Killian. Listen to me; Caleb is little. I mean, smaller than
Will
even. And his dad was big, over 6'. If you'd seen Caleb you would know he couldn't have done this.”

     “You've seen Caleb?” I felt a sudden pang of something, jealousy maybe?

     “Yes, a couple times I went and saw him at the group home. It was awful there. The other kids pushed him around because they heard he's gay. He even got beat up a couple times. No one does anything about it.”