Linda Welch - A conspiracy of Demons (11 page)

I’m surprised he has
n
o
t worn a Mac-shaped depression in the
tile,
with
the time he spends there.

“Uh uh,” I told him. “It’s hours till your supper time.” But I gave him a dog biscuit to keep the poor starving creature going.

Royal headed upstairs to use my computer.

Mel and Jack
were
usually all over me,
asking
what
happened, where
I had been. Now, they were not even in the kitchen. Clearly, they were ignoring me, which must have been difficult as I am sure they were
eager
to
hear about Provo PD.

I opened the
backdoor
. Mac
charged
out and began his sensory exploration of the backyard.

I got a diet cola from the refrigerator and sat in
a
kitchen chair bathed by a hazy sunbeam. The warm
th felt good on
my back
. P
opping the tab, I sucked
in
a big gulp of soda.

Any minute now.

“Did you have a fun time in Provo?” Mel asked as she
nonchalantly
wandered
in
to
the kitchen.

Following behind, Jack went to the backdoor and faced the small window. “I suppose you had to put up with
her
chewing your ears off the entire time.”

“Speaking of
Carrie
, we need a word.” I
put
my soda can on the table. “You three will drive me out of my mind if you don’t learn to get along.”

“Easy solution -
get rid of her,” Mel said.

“Why did you bring her in
side
?” Jack asked.

“I couldn’t leave her on the sidewalk
.”

“Why not?
Nobody
invited
her
. If you’d left her there, she’d have gone away again.”

“You act like she’s special but s
he’s
just
another dead person,” from Mel.

“So I should
have ignored her, not
treat
ed
her with
the same
respect
as a living person
? Is that what you’re saying?
”

Jack opened his mouth, then
saw the trap
. If I didn’t respect Carrie, why should I respect him? He closed his mouth and let his shoulders drop.

“You know, I thought you’d enjoy talking to another person. And Carrie has been all over the place, she has a ton of stories.”

Wrong
thing to say.

Mel
soundlessly
stamped her foot. “It’s not fair! She can go wherever she wants. We’re stuck here!”

“
B
ear in mind i
t’s not always pleasant for her. Imagine meeting other shades, but they want nothing to do with you. They’re angry and spiteful, because you can do something they can’t. I’m sure it hurts her feelings.”

Mel folded her arms.
“If I could go anyplace, I wouldn’t care what other dead people thought.”

“Easy to say when you don’t experience it
. Look, I
have no idea
how long she’ll be here
and I refuse to listen to you three bickering. If you don’t rein it in, I’ll go stay with Royal.”

“What about - ”

“I’ll take Mac with me. He’ll hate it, but better there than with you two, the mood you’re in.”

Yeah, I bluffed, and hoped they would not call me on it.

Jack spun and stood with his back to me. “I
’ll
try
to be polite, but i
f she
starts in on me, I’ll give as good as I get.”

“Me too,” from Mel.

“
Fair
enough
.
”

Royal came downstairs and
in
the kitchen. “I cannot find anything more on the
Collins/Klein case
. It appears to be purely a crime of passion.”

I glanced at the wall clock and went to the backdoor to cal
l
Mac. “We’d better get going.”

When Mac took his time coming inside, I opened the backdoor and tempted him with a liver treat. The prospect lent speed to his little legs and he
tore
in
side
. I knelt to give him the treat and rub behind
his
ears.

“You’re leaving already?” Jack said.

I rose up. “Yeah. See you later
.
”

When we arrive
d
in Bel-Athaer t
his
time
,
we drove straight down Ambrose’s
main avenue in a cab which looked like a silver
limo. The mountains
loomed nearer until I
had to crane my neck to look up at them
through the window.
Just a
s I decided we must be heading out of town, we took a right alo
ng a wide street, which led
past
a housing estate
and on to
an industrial park where
huge one-level buildings of brick with tin roofs
clustered together
. The cab dropped us off outside
what looked like a warehouse on the park’s farthest boundary
.

Twenty minutes after leaving Clarion, t
he W
ay let us
out in Maple Valley
near Seattle, Washington.

The Gate looked like a gardener’s shed in a massive white mansion’s backyard. A gardener would get a nasty surprise if he came in to pot a few plants.

Royal snorted at my expression. “The Gate was here long before this area
became
so densely
populated
. The High House owns and maintains this property.”

I
hoped he didn’t see the blush which surely decorated my cheeks
,
and
said
casually
, “F
igured it was something like that.
I guess they own that building on Montague Square too.
”

It
must have been seventy degrees.
The sun glowed
in a cloudless blue sky. We climbed
a
sloping lawn
, the
dense, manicured grass
springy beneath my feet
, to a swimming
pool shaped like a kidney
. A breeze rippled the
aqu
a-blue water
. Tables with colorful
folded
umbrellas dotte
d a wide patio beyond the pool and
the
first
floor’s French windows rose
behind. The mansion looked like a Mediterranean villa, with
big
urns
marching along the
patio. A stone balcony ran the full width of the second floor.

“Does
someone
live here?”

“Yes, as a security measure.”

“Huh. Well, if they want to move on, I’m open to taking over from
them.” What a palace.

Royal led me
past
the white mansion to a huge garage. He opened the side door and I followed him
inside
a space as big as my entire house
,
if you put the upstairs alongside the downstairs. Cars and trucks
were
parked in neat rows.

He went to a 2010
silver Lincoln Town Car and opened the front passenger door.

“We’re driving? It’ll take forever.”

“About
three hours
,” he said as he guided me in and I settled on the leather seat. “
We can spare the time
.
”

And easier on
me
than the demon dash.
M
y upper lip
curled
at the thought of demon-dashing
one hundred and forty-five
miles. Royal would be too exhausted and I too sick to do more than collapse. “Yeah, we drive,” I agreed. “But is
taking a car okay
?”

“The vehicles, like the house, belong to the High House. They are here for those who need transportation.
”

He shut the door and went around to the driver’s side. I buckled the seat
belt as he got in. We drove out of the giant garage a minute later.

I enjoyed the drive
through a part of
the country
I had not seen before
. W
e parked at the Walm
art Neighborhood Market in
Beaverton and Royal zipped us
to downtown Portland and
the
Econo
my
Lodge, a basic but decent two-floor motel
. We sat on a low concrete wall where
I
bent
my head and groaned.
Even the shor
t spurt to the motel affected me
.

He massaged my nape beneath my braid. “
Feel bad again?
”

“
Too much in the last
few
days, I guess
. The things I do for truth, justi
ce and the American way of life.
”

A few minutes later w
e went up the outside staircase to the top floor and left to the end unit, hoping it was vacant, or at least unoccupied at the moment. Royal knocked.
No one
answered the door.

I kept watch as Royal picked the lock and opened the door. He captured
my hand
as I moved around him
.
“Careful in there.”

I smiled, pulled my hand free and rested the palm on his silken hair. “I will.”

Since my en
counter with Rosa in Boston, he ha
d
told me to take care every time I met a new shade
. Rosa threw objects around the hotel suite in which she died and
nearly
nailed me with a plant pot. Normally, though, dead people are no danger to me or anyone else.

I went in
side and shut the door
.

White
walls,
a light-green carpet, queen-size
d
bed with a floral cover and the
golden—
oak headboard fastened to the wall.
The headboard matched a long, low wall unit, be
dside cabinet, dining table, two chairs
and a desk
.
A small refrigerator sat in the corner with a microwave on top and a coffee maker on top of that.
The paint and carpet still smelled new. A door standing ajar looked into
the
bathroom.

Polly Klein sat on the bed with her legs outstretched and spine against the headboard.
In her mid—
fifties with short brown
- and blond—
streaked hair and
misty green
eyes, her pink camisole and bikini briefs hugged a trim figure. The hole in her forehead was small, but I bet the exit wound took out the back of her skull. Happily, I could not see it. A
little
blood surrounded the wound and
had left a track
down beside her nose.

Terry Collins
, in blue and green plaid
boxers,
sat in a green
armchair
whic
h looked like a small chaise lo
ng
u
e
beside the window, a sash window with air conditioner installed. His
hands
were
flat on a small
side
table
.
He
looked untouched. The bullet must have lodged in his body
and not exited his pale, chunky chest,
so blood did not make a mess of the wiry gray hair. He looked good for a sixty-year-old, with defined muscles in all the right places and a full head of thick, iron-gray hair.

I stood at the end of the bed and eyed
Polly.

Polly had a harsh, nasal voice.
“Not another one. Look, lady, there’s nothing to see. They cleaned up the blood and brains and painted the walls. The carpet’s new, too. And the bed.”
She
patted her
palm on her mouth
as if bored. “Now go away.”

Terry
wiggle
d bushy eyebrows. “Well hello, you d
elicious
creature
.”

“She wouldn’t look at you twice,
you putrid excuse for a man,
” Polly sneered.

“Putrid?”
Terry turned his shoulder to her.
“You changed your tune.
I was your world n
ot so long ago.”

“
I’m dead, aren’t I, and it’s your fault.
If you’
d told Olivia about us - ”

“She’d have shot us sooner.”

“You never intended to tell her. All that about leaving her, you were stringing me along.”

“Must we rehash this?”

“Hey!” I said.
“
Pack it in!
I need a word with you.”

Polly sat up away from the headboard. “Oh, you see us.”

“Yeah. I won’t take up much of your time. Can - ”

“Time’s all we have.” Terry left the chair and sat on the mattress. “But we can’t tell you anything we didn’t tell the other one, and it was all in the papers.”

“The decorators had a newspaper,” Olivia said. “The reporters got it right.” She chuckled and faked a
n
officious
tone. “We have nothing to add at this time.”

I folded my arms across my body and put my weight on one leg. “The other . . . um . . . psychic, Lynn. Tell me about her.”

“Was that her name?” Terry
shuffled a bit, as if
to get
comfortable. “Skinny little thing, blond. Said she couldn’t see us clearly, we looked like people made of smoke.”

“Gave me the shivers,” from Polly.

“Still, someone knew we’re here, and she explained everything, about us being dead and having to wait until Olivia passes over. I hope they
execute
the fucking bitch soon.”

They would have a long wait, but I kept that to myself. “Lynn is dead, murdered. I’m trying to find out why, and who killed her.”

“Ah, poor thing.” Polly inched down the bed until she sat with Terry. “Could it have something to do with us, is that why you’re here?”

“She said she’d try to come back,” Terry added.

Lynn would have popped in to see them
were
she
in the area. I try to d
o the same with the shades I meet, if they are of the pleasant variety. Or at least bearable. They either mellow with time, or spend the rest of their earthbound years with a gigantic chip on their spectral shoulders.

“I don’t know if her death has anything to do with your murder, that’s what I’m trying to
find out
.”

“Well, nothing unusual happened, if you call talking to us usual.” Terry scratched his chin. “She asked who killed us. We told her and described what happened. That was it.”

I went to the chair Terry had vacated and eased down. “Okay. Will you tell me exactly what she said, what you said, as much as you remember?”

I listened, and tried to memorize what they
told me. I
t was
fairly
formulaic, the usual routine. L
ynn told them why they lingered and
what to expect. They told her what Olivia did.

Olivia didn’t speak to them. She marched in holding the pistol and shot Polly
.
Terry scooted off the bed and made for the doo
r. Olivia shot him in the back. Polly woke to find herself dead on the bed, Terry’s body in the doorway and policemen milling around the room.
He woke later and found himself on the floor and Polly kneeling beside him
in the empty room
. They both had hysterics at first. They found they could move
about
the suite, but not leave it.

After a while, they
decided
they were dead. Lynn arrived the next day.

“She was sympathetic,” Terry said.

“As if that helped.” Polly
threw up her hands, then collapsed back
on the pillows
and
through
them
.
She looked like a headless body.

Her head emerged. “Sorry, this is new to me. Sometimes I forget.”

Not for the first time, I wondered why shades made the effort to appear as if they interacted with solid objects.

“And now she’s gone,” she moaned,
“and
I’m stuck with him and
only
him for God knows how long.”

“Will you. . . ? Do you get up this way often?” Terry asked.

I
rose
from the chair. “This is a first for me, but I’ll come
see you if I’m in the area
.”
I doubted I’d be
here
again
, but
you never know
.