“They were fighting. And now Ben has Dean pinned to the lawn, knees holding his upper arms to the ground, sitting on him,” I explained. Ben looked at me over his shoulder, grinning in triumph.

  “Now what, big shot?” I asked.

  “Everything okay here, Detective?” I hadn’t noticed Officer Walsh approach and could have smacked myself in the head. I really needed to pay closer attention to what was going on around me if I wanted to keep my ghost-speaking abilities secret. Only two more days, Fitz. You can do this.

  “Everything’s fine, thanks, Officer,” Galloway said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “You may have heard that Audrey is on a caffeine-free kick? That has resulted in some unusual side effects.”

  “Ahhh.” Officer Walsh nodded in apparent understanding. “Talking to herself more than usual?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I am right here, you know!” I snapped, annoyed at the undercurrent of humor in the men’s conversation.

  “And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Galloway dropped a kiss on my cheek in an attempt to pacify me. It totally worked.

  “Any idea what Ward was doing on your front lawn?” Officer Walsh asked, diverting attention away from my current caffeine deprivation.

  I shrugged. “No idea. He wasn’t a client, although if he was coming to see me, I assume he wanted to hire me for something.”

  “Well, whatever it was, someone wanted him stopped.”

  I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t thought of that. Dean was here to hire me—to investigate something, obviously, but he was killed before he could secure my services. Before he could tell me anything. Which meant that whatever it was, was big. Someone had wanted to stop him from blabbing to me. My eyes narrowed, and I turned to Galloway.

  “I hear,” I jerked my head sideways to indicate Ben, who was still sitting atop Dean, “that Dean had some underhand dealings with Arlie Roberts.”

  “Arlie Roberts, as in the Roberts gang?” Officer Walsh repeated, even though I’d directed my words to Galloway.

  I nodded.

  “Where did you hear that?” he pressed.

  “Just around.” No way I was telling him my dead best friend had just told me.

  “Do you know what the dealings were?”

  I shook my head. “No idea. Could be anything, really. Money laundering? Black market produce? Booze?” I echoed Ben’s words.

  “Walsh, go find Arlie and bring him in to the station to answer a few questions,” Galloway instructed.

  “Yes, sir.” Officer Walsh hurried away, determination in every step.

  “He’s doing well, isn’t he?” I watched the young officer as he climbed into his patrol car and waited for his partner to join him. I had a bit of a soft spot for Officer Noah Walsh. He reminded me of Ben when he’d first joined the force.

  Galloway nodded. “Wants to sit his sergeant’s exam soon.”

  “You think he’s ready?” He seemed so… young.

  “I do. He’s smart. He can think on his feet. He’s inquisitive and tenacious. A lot like someone else I know.” He nudged me with his elbow, and I preened, standing taller and thrusting out my chest at the compliment. Then I took a mouthful of hot chocolate and dribbled it down my front.

  Galloway barked out a laugh and ruffled my hair. “Don’t ever change, Audrey. I love you just the way you are.”

  I snorted. “A drink-spilling, stained clothes-wearing, ghost-talking wreck?”

  “A beautiful, sexy, drink-spilling, stained clothes-wearing, ghost-talking genius.”

  “Now you’re just taking the⁠—”

  “Take the compliment, Fitz!” Ben called, climbing off Dean and hauling him to his feet. The two men stood side by side, dusting non-existent grass off themselves.

  “Is this going to be a problem?” I eyeballed the pair of them. “Are you constantly going to be at each other's throats, or did that little rumble get it out of your system?”

  Ben rolled his shoulders and slapped Dean on the back. “I’m good. You?”

  Dean looked sheepish. “I’m good.”

  “Right. Now maybe we can get on with solving your murder.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “I can’t believe he’s gone! I loved him so much!” Leah Dunn wailed, great heaving sobs shaking her frame. Galloway and I looked at each other then back at Dean Ward’s girlfriend of three years. I’d never witnessed such an outpouring of grief before. Sure, I’d seen people cry, but this? This was a whole other level.

  “I knew she’d take it badly,” Dean said somewhat smugly, as if his girlfriend’s devastation was a good thing.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Galloway offered. The wailing stopped, and Leah blew her nose, loudly, into a tissue before raising red-rimmed eyes.

  “It was that Eric Sullivan that did it.” Her voice was cold and brittle, her anguish betrayed by the small hiccup at the end.

  “You know who killed your boyfriend?” I asked, eyebrows doing their thing, hanging out in my hairline.

  She sniffed and nodded. “It was Sullivan. He was in the pub just the other night bragging about his stupid award. Deliberately riled Dean up, he did.”

  “What happened?” Galloway leaned forward, elbows on knees, face intent.

  “Dean threw him out, of course. Told him he was barred and that if you come around here again, I’ll smash your head in.”

  Galloway and I exchanged a look. I don’t know what he was thinking, but my immediate thought was I need coffee. The second was we needed to speak with Eric Sullivan, whoever the heck he was. But also, it sounded like Dean had threatened him, not the other way around.

  “So, who’s Eric Sullivan? And what award?” I asked.

  Leah’s blue eyes snapped to me. “He runs Firefly Bay Brewing Company. In fact, he and Dean started it together years ago, until Dean left to start his own business. The Moustache Craft Ale House. They’ve been in competition ever since. And Eric just won the Craft Ale of the Year award, something that Dean has been coveting ever since he struck out on his own.”

  “It’s true,” Dean said from behind me. “Never could crack it. But Eric won. Again. Second year in a row, and he couldn’t stop from parading in to rub my face in it, dissing my pub, calling my menu overpriced gastro garbage.”

  “Right.”

  “How long have you known Dean?” Galloway asked Leah.

  “We met when he was still working with Eric at Firefly Bay Brewing Company, just over three years ago. There was some big event on, I can’t remember what it was now, but I’d landed a gig as a waitress, just for the night, mind you, but money is money, can’t turn down a job. Shortly after that, he left and started Moustache Craft Ales and hired me as a bartender.”

  “Right. And how long have you been in a relationship?”

  “About the same. I’d been there a week, learning the ropes and helping get everything set up. Then we had the big grand opening, and one thing led to another and well… here we are, three years later.”

  Dean sighed. “That was some party.”

  Leah cleared her throat and looked at me. “I’m sorry, but do you think you could get me some water?”

  “Oh. Uh, sure.” I stood and looked around the apartment she shared with Dean. “Kitchen that way?”

  “Yes, just through there. Thank you.”

  Galloway sat with his head tilted to one side, and I paused as I squeezed past him, taken aback momentarily by his handsome good looks and magnetic presence. I cast a quick glance at Leah, who, if it weren’t for the smudged mascara and red-tipped nose, I’d say was looking at him with the same appreciation. Was the request for water a ruse to get him alone?

  Deciding my caffeine-deprived brain was working overtime in the wrong direction, I shrugged it off and continued on my way to the kitchen, which, like the rest of the apartment, was small. Its galley style served it well, and I didn’t have far to search before I found a glass and held it under the faucet. As I turned to return to the living room, a photograph pinned to the refrigerator caught my attention, and I moved closer to get a better look.

  Dean stood with his arm around a smiling Leah who was holding a tray of drinks. On the other side of her, another man stood with his arm around her as well. The three of them looked happy.

  Returning to the living room, I caught Leah with her hand on Galloway’s knee. I skidded to a halt and eyeballed her. Blonde and blue-eyed, taller than me, but I could take her. Narrowing my eyes, I shoved the water glass toward her, not caring that the sudden movement sloshed water over the rim.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip then placing the glass on the coffee table.

  “Who’s the other guy in the photo on your fridge?” I asked, sitting back down on the sofa next to Galloway. He reached out and rested his hand on my thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Leah’s eyes followed his every move, and I shot her a look of warning. He was mine. I was also curious how she could be wailing her grief over her deceased boyfriend only minutes before making a move on mine.

  “That’s him. Sullivan.”

  “When was it taken?”

  “That was the night we met. The event at the Firefly Bay Brewing Company.”

  “You all looked friendly enough.”

  “We were, then. But something changed after that night, and Dean quit to start up his own pub, and he and Eric stopped talking for months.”

  “Why?” Galloway asked.

  She shrugged. “Don’t know.” But her eyes darted away, and I knew she was lying. Something big went down between Dean and Eric, and Leah knew exactly what it was. Only she wasn’t sharing. Didn’t matter. I’d ask Dean once we were out of here.

  “Why are you here anyway?” Her words were directed at me. “You’re not the police. A private investigator, you said? Why? Are the police hiring out these days?”

  “Actually, your boyfriend died on my front lawn. On his way to hire me. For what, I don’t know. Do you?”

  The color left her face, leaving her pale, then returned in a flood of red. Once again, her eyes darted away, and her hand reached out for her water. The glass shook as she picked it up.

  Her eyes welled with tears. “Could we continue this another time? I’m not feeling very well. This has been a terrible shock.”

  “Of course. If you think of anything, any reason someone would want to harm Dean, please give me a call.” Galloway placed a business card on the coffee table and stood.

  Slapping my own card next to Galloway’s, I said, “Ditto,” and followed him out.

  Once we were in the car, I turned to him. “I don’t know about her. I got a distinct vibe.”

  “You think the tears were just for show?”

  “Oh, I think the tears were real enough. But she’s definitely lying about something.” I didn’t reveal my thoughts about her motives, not while Dean was around. For while her tears were real, I didn’t think they were genuine. Leah Dunn was not as devastated at Dean’s death as she tried to make out. I wanted to know why.

  Galloway nodded. “That’s what I think too.”

  “What?” Dean scoffed from the back seat. “You can’t think Leah killed me. Why? It makes no sense. She’s right. You need to go speak to Eric, though why he’d want to sink a knife in my back now, after all this time, is beyond me.”

  I swiveled in my seat to look at him. “What happened between the two of you?”

  “Nothing.”

  I snorted. “Come on, I didn’t come down in the last shower. You don’t go from being friends, posing for photos together, to mortal enemies and throwing him out of your pub over nothing. Give.”

  Dean’s shoulders reached his ears, and he turned his palms up. “Told you, I got nothing.”

  “You’re lying.” I knew it. He knew it. The smirk on his face told me he knew I knew and didn’t care. “Fine, don’t tell me. I’ll go ask Eric.”

  “You do that. Won’t do you any good.”

  “You know what? I’m starting to think you’re not a very nice individual,” I snapped.

  “Isn’t the first time I’ve heard that, sweetheart.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart!”

  “Babe?” Galloway captured my flailing hand in his and drew my attention away from the annoying ghost in the back seat. “Everything okay?”

  I deflated like a balloon with a slow leak. “I’m fine.”

  “Uh-oh,” Dean chimed in from the back seat. “We all know what that means when a woman says she’s fine.”

  “Will you just go away?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, my headache returning.

  “I sincerely hope you’re talking to Dean and not me,” Galloway murmured. My head snapped up, and I wriggled across the parking brake to plant a kiss on his cheek in silent apology. “I never want you to go away.”

  Galloway turned his head, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that sizzled. Dean made a kissing noise from the back seat, and I reluctantly pulled away, whispering against Galloway’s mouth, “We have ghost company.”

  “To be continued,” Galloway growled, pressing one last kiss on my lips before disengaging. Starting the car, we’d just pulled away when his phone rang.

  “Galloway.” He picked the call up via the car's Bluetooth.

  “We’ve picked up Arlie Roberts,” Officer Walsh’s voice came over the speakers. “Did you want to interview him, or should I ask Detective McClain?”

  Galloway nodded. “I’ll be right there.” Disconnecting the call, he turned the car in the direction of the Firefly Bay PD. I swiveled to look at Dean in the backseat. “Hear that? We’re going to interview Arlie Roberts. Anything you want to tell us beforehand? Save a little time?”

  “I’ve got nothing to say.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and mulishly pressed his lips together.

  “Have it your way.” I faced the front and studied my nails. “We’ll find out soon enough. Detective Galloway here is the best. He’ll have Roberts singing like a canary in no time.” I caught the sideways glance Galloway shot my way and raised one shoulder. There was something about Dean Ward that I didn’t trust. I got the same vibe from his girlfriend. He may not remember what he’d been doing on my front lawn, but he definitely knew Arlie Roberts and was no doubt up to his eyeballs in some sort of shady deal. I didn’t know why he was so worried about keeping whatever it was a secret now. He was already dead. How much worse could it get?

  At the station, it was business as usual. Desks took up most of the main room. A glass wall separated the public entrance and the administration area upfront. I headed toward the coffeepot while Galloway headed toward the interview rooms, Dean following.

  “Hey Audrey, how’s it going?” Sergeant Addison Young glanced up from where she was typing at her desk. “Hear you had a bit of excitement at your place this morning.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” I had the coffeepot in hand and was about to pour when I reluctantly remembered my bet with Amanda. No coffee. With an audible sigh, I returned the coffeepot and simply stood looking at it mournfully.

  “How much longer?” Addison asked, coming to stand next to me, a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  “Two days.” May as well have been two years.

  “You’ve got this. We’re all backing you.”

  I eyeballed her. “How much did you put on me?”

  She blinked innocently. “What do you mean?”

  “Pft. I’m not that green. What’s the bet? That I’ll make it seven days without caffeine? Or that I’ll cave, and Amanda will win?”

  “Oh, hey Audrey. Two more days!” Officer Tom Collier gave me the thumbs up as he approached. I moved out of the way to give him access to the coffeepot.

  “How much did you put down?” I asked him.

  “Fifty on you to win,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee then wafting it under my nose. “Want a sniff?”

  Did I ever! I inhaled, the coffee-scented steam filling my sinuses. The fog permeating my brain lifted for a brief moment but quickly descended again when Tom removed the coffee from my vicinity. Probably for the best. I was practically drooling as it was.

  “Did anyone bet against me?” I asked.

  “Hell, no.” Tom guffawed. “We all know you, Audrey Fitzgerald, and you are made of true grit. You’ve got this.” I was humbled by their utter faith in me. Totally misplaced, of course, but now I knew they’d backed me, with money no less, I’d be a right heel if I stumbled at the last hurdle.

  Right on cue, my phone buzzed with an incoming message from Amanda. Don’t forget Laura’s baby shower is this afternoon.

  I haven’t forgotten, I shot back. I had, but Amanda didn’t need to know that. Laura was my sister who was heavily preggers with baby number two, and today was her baby shower. Not that she needed much—baby number one, Isabelle, was eighteen months old and Laura still had all her baby gear. I’d already picked up my gift and stashed it in the closet. A jumbo pack of diapers. Memorable? Not so much. Practical? Heck, yeah.

  What do you need me to bring?

  I frowned at the latest text from Amanda. Bring?

  Bring where? I asked.

  To the baby shower, silly. At your house.

  Holy crap balls! I’d forgotten not only was it Laura’s baby shower day, but I was also hosting it. At my house. The same house that had crime scene tape decorating the front garden.

  “Addison, can you get Galloway to call me when he’s done?” I nodded toward the interview rooms at the rear of the station. “Something’s come up, and I’ve gotta run.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Wilson, my man, you’re getting five stars!”

  “Thank you, Miss Audrey. I sure appreciate that. So does Bird.”

  I squinted at the bedraggled green and yellow budgie currently sitting on Wilson’s shoulder, pecking at the stubble on the old man's cheek. I’d resorted to hiring an Uber when I realized I was stranded at the police station since I’d hitched a ride with Galloway earlier. Wilson had rolled up in his lime green sedan, wearing a fedora with what looked suspiciously like a bullet hole in it and a grin that hinted that this wrinkled old man had a life well-lived.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14