Linda Welch - A conspiracy of Demons Read online

  Mel’s whispering voice sounded strained. “But she’s talking about Heathrow airport, and Salt Lake City, not a few blocks.”

  “Are you going to leave me out here all day then?”

  I should. But I couldn’t see her out there, and worse, hear her, and remain sane.

  “How long will you be here? It’s not that I’m unhappy to see you, but I’m pretty busy with work and what I do can’t be put off till another day.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s a flying visit, in and out in a flash. As I said, to say hello and I wanted to see where you lived.” She gestured expansively. “America is so big, so much to see, I have to get as much as I can in before Old Blighty calls me home.”

  I stomped down the step and along the path until four feet separated us.

  She immediately stepped in my space. “It’s so nice to see you, dear. The place wasn’t the same after you left.”

  I whipped around. “Come on, then.” Nothing I said could prepare her for Jack and Mel, and vice versa, so I may as well get it over with.

  I went back in the house with Carrie on my heels and waited for all hell to break loose.

  Chapter Five

  Mel and Jack were back at the window, but facing the kitchen and our unexpected, uninvited guest.

  Carrie stopped dead and looked my roommates up and down. “Oh, I saw you in here but I thought you were alive.” She turned on me. “You didn’t tell me you have insubstantial friends here.”

  “What’s she doing here? You met her in England?” Mel jabbered. “You didn’t mention her. Everything you said about England, and nothing about another shade who can travel.”

  Guilty as charged, and I would pay the price.

  “Insubstantial? What do you mean, insubstantial?” Jack grated out.

  “How dare you bring her in here!” from Mel.

  “Get rid of her.” Jack took a menacing step, his hands slashed the air. “Get her out of here.”

  I couldn’t think of anything which would defuse the situation, so I headed for the coffeemaker and tantalizing aroma of fresh—brewed nectar.

  Arms flailing all over the place, Jack zipped in front of me. “Are you listening? I said get rid of her!”

  “I’m terribly sorry, Tiff,” Carrie said. “I didn’t mean to cause an uproar.”

  I got a mug from the top cabinet and filled it. “Don’t apologize, Carrie. You’re not the one who’s forgotten their manners.”

  I added a dollop of vanilla-flavored creamer, put my spine to the counter and frowned at Jack and Mel. “Carrie is our guest. Behave yourselves.”

  Mel put fists to hips and spat, “She’s not a guest, she’s an intruder.”

  “And you have a nerve bringing her in here,” Jack said.

  “Excuse me!” Carrie whispered loudly.

  “Keep out of it,” Jack snapped.

  Carrie stood nose to nose with Jack and I had not seen her move. Her little shoulders came forward, her chin jutted, her hands balled at her sides.

  Uh oh.

  Her finger came up to Jack’s face. “That is enough! By golly, you’re lucky we aren’t alive because you’d be bent over the table while I applied a belt to your bottom. That’s what happened to rude, nasty little boys in my younger days.”

  Jack squared his shoulders. “Who do you think you - ”

  “How dare you talk to Tiff like that! How does she put up with you if you’re always this obnoxious?”

  “She can’t - ”

  “Can’t do anything? What has that to do with it? Death doesn’t give you permission to be a brat. Or were you like this when you were alive?”

  Jack backed up a step.

  “Grow up. You’ll behave like a gentleman or I’ll want to know the reason why!”

  Jack wound his fingers together.

  “Now apologize,” Carrie demanded.

  Jack opened his mouth, closed it, looked at Mel, then capitulated. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not to me, to Tiff!” Carrie poked a finger in my direction.

  Jack’s voice emerged as a very low whisper. “I’m sorry, Tiff.”

  Carrie’s chin jerked at Mel. “And you, madam. You’re as bad. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Sorry,” Mel said, although she didn’t sound so. Apparently Carrie didn’t cow her as easily as Jack.

  I couldn’t find my voice. They backed down and apologized. They had never apologized to me before.

  Carrie parodied taking in a deep breath. “All right, we’ll start again, shall we? I’m Carrie Wood. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “Jack Trewellyn, likewise,” Jack mumbled.

  “Melissa Trent, yeah,” from Mel.

  Mac chose now to push through the pet door. He stopped inside the kitchen and the hair along his back bristled as his ears went back.

  “And who’s this?” Carrie said. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

  “He’s MacKlutzy, but I call him Mac.”

  “Ooh, I love dogs!” she gushed. “And of course he’s a boy, I can see that, so muscular.”

  She headed for Mac.

  “This should be interesting,” Jack said with a smirk in his voice.

  Carrie went down on her knees and patted them with the flats of her hands. “Aren’t you a handsome little chap. What a sweetheart! What a beautiful boy.”

  Mel snorted.

  Mac sat on his rump. His ears perked as he looked at Carrie, or perhaps in her direction. I’m not sure whether he sees shades or hears them, or only senses something.

  “If I could, I’d pick you up for a cuddle,” Carrie continued. “I’d give you a lovely scratch behind the ears, and all along your back. And then a tummy-rub. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Macky-Poos.”

  Jack mouthed, Macky-Poos?

  Mac came back up on his stubby legs and wagged his tail. His tongue lolled.

  “I don’t believe it,” Jack said.

  “Neither do I,” I murmured.

  “Believe what?” Carrie asked over her shoulder.

  “He’s the nastiest, most disagreeable animal ever born,” Mel explained.

  “Perhaps to you, but I love dogs and they sense it. I expect you don’t like him and he senses that too.”

  Mel folded her arms. “I like dogs, just not him.”

  Carrie rose up and came back to us with Mac chugging along at her heels.

  “They’re like an open book to me,” she said to me as she nodded in my roommates’ direction. “They’re so possessive of you, they even begrudge any attention you pay to your dog. Animals are sensitive to emotions, you know.”

  Flabbergasted, I gaped with my mouth open. Carrie had my roommates pegged in less than ten minutes, and she certainly took them down a notch or two.

  The sun peaked over the mountaintops, sending beams through the glass in the kitchen door. I could stand here all day and try to mediate, or carry on with my routine and let them sort themselves out.

  I headed for the hall. “I’m for the shower.”

  “Aren’t you going to show me your home first?” Carrie asked.

  “There isn’t much to see,” Mel offered.

  “She’s right.” I reached the staircase and paused with a foot on the bottom step. “Go where you want, Carrie, except my bedroom and the bathroom when I’m in there.”

  She stood at my heels. “Which is your bedroom?”

  “Facing the top of the stairs.”

  “And mine is next to it,” Jack announced. “Stay out.”

  “And mine,” from Mel.

  Carrie faced them. “You have your own bedrooms? I thought I’d stay until tomorrow - where am I supposed to sleep?”

  “Sleep?” I rolled my eyes. “You don’t sleep, neither do they.”

  “Then why do they have bedrooms?” she persisted.

  Why did they have bedrooms? They didn’t, not as in rooms where they slept. They laid claim to the two spares, and I let them because the rooms were not used. I refused to get in a fight with them or
Carrie over it. I went on up the stairs.

  “What a fine way to treat a guest,” Carrie said, obviously addressing Jack and Mel. “It seems you’re not the only one in need of a lesson in good manners.”

  Jack mumbled something I couldn’t hear.

  “Go on, say it,” Carrie said.

  “Say what?” Jack asked.

  “You love my accent.”

  I backed down three steps and looked through the doorway into the kitchen. Carrie stood over Jack and Mel as they sat side by side at the kitchen table.

  “I don’t,” Mel said.

  “Neither do I,” from Jack.

  “You’d say it if we were alive,” Carrie went on. “Maureen from the corner shop, she went to America, and she couldn’t open her mouth without someone saying they loved her accent. Funny thing about accents, I’ve heard them from all over and… .”

  I went up, in the bathroom and firmly shut the door.

  Still in my robe, I came downstairs an hour later to grab another cup of coffee before it got too old. Carrie, Jack and Mel were at the kitchen table, Carrie chatting up a storm.

  “Can you move everywhere you want?” Jack asked.

  “Apparently,” Carrie replied brightly. “Though if you mean inside buildings, some I can, other places I have to hitch a ride from room to room.”

  Trying to block out Carrie’s chatter, I tapped a fingernail on my mug. Where should I go from here? “Maybe down to the PD and harass Mike?” I wondered aloud.

  “PD? What’s that?” Carrie chirped. “Who’s Mike?”

  “Clarion Police Department,” Mel chimed in.

  “Homicide Division,” I clarified.

  “Mike Warren is the captain,” Mel told Carrie.

  “Ooh, an American police station? This should be interesting!”

  I gave her a look. “You are not coming. Stay here with Jack and Mel, get to know one another.”

  Carrie chuckled. “Have you forgotten already? How are you going to stop me?”

  I couldn’t have her tagging along as she did in England, not to Clarion PD and waffle on while I tried to talk to Mike. “Please stay here.”

  “And miss the fun?”

  “What were you saying to Jack about being a brat? How are you any different? I can’t stop you coming, Carrie, but I can stop liking you, and I will if you interfere with my job.”

  I didn’t wait for a response and went upstairs to dress. When I came down wearing black Levis, a green long-sleeved T-shirt and white sneakers, I had changed my mind. Storming down to the PD would only irk Mike, and while I didn’t give a shit about his feelings at this moment, annoying him would not coax his cooperation.

  Carrie, Jack and Mel sat on the floor in front of the television, but they did not listen to it.

  “And along came Her Majesty,” Carrie said. “I thought, should I latch on to her? The idea seemed sacrilegious. Then I thought, why not? She’ll not know. But by then she was almost past me and I got one of the corgis instead. It went wild.” She looked over at Mac where he lay in a pool of sunshine. “Nasty little beastie, not a gentleman like my Macky-Poos.”

  “Good grief,” Mel said drily.

  “Mrs. Dunstan down the street had a corgi,” Carrie continued. “I was a nipper at the time, and everyone knew… .”

  I tuned her out. I knew from experience Carrie’s tales rambled all over the place. Apparently, Jack and Mel found her enthralling. Personally, I thought many of her stories should be taken with a grain of salt.

  I thought Carrie’s arrival would bring on tantrums. She could do what my roommates could not, move wherever she wished. And Carrie had told me of the way in which other shades shunned her when they discovered their limitations did not bind her. But Jack and Mel appeared to be thrilled. Maybe this would work out after all.

  As I walked to the refrigerator for a diet cola, a voice emitting from the television grabbed my attention.

  I spun and marched over there, yelling, “Hush!”

  The three comrades fell silent.

  “… whose body was found on the site for the new HaliMart in Provo. Our source inside Motel 6 confirms that Miss Summers paid for a room on the evening of October 11th but checked out four hours later. Officers from West Wendover Police Department found her car in the motel parking lot. Further investigation discovered Miss Summers leased a green, 2010 Nissan Altima from a local dealership to continue her journey.”

  The reporter gazed seriously at the camera. “Did Miss Summers take evasive measures to conceal her location and destination? Join us at six for breaking news.”

  The scene switched to the network anchor, who introduced the sports commentator. I stood there, chewing a thumbnail.

  I was right, Lynn was running, running to me. She drove instead of flew because it made tracing her harder. Maybe, a few hours after she checked in at the Wendover motel, she realized someone tailed her and got out of there fast.

  “Oh my,” Mel said, “she was your friend in California.”

  “Yep.”

  “We saw it on the news earlier, an announcement her body was found in Provo but police hadn’t released details yet,” Jack gabbled. “I didn’t make the connection. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “That’s why Mike called you in?” Mel asked.

  “I’m so sorry, love,” Carrie said.

  My mouth tried, but I couldn’t go through everything with them. I made a helpless gesture with my hands, walked from the kitchen, through the hall and upstairs to my room.

  I wouldn’t go harass Mike again, I’d learn more from information leaked to reporters than from him. Sitting at the desk, I opened Lynn’s laptop and waited for it to boot up, then opened her appointment book and plugged in one of the USB drives.

  I went back six months. Lynn worked four police investigations during that time. The last, for Portland Police Bureau in Oregon, was only days ago on October 8th. Then there were entries for a dental checkup and cleaning, her annual physical exam, breakfasts, coffees, lunches and dinners. Were the lunches etcetera with friends, family, or business appointments? Every entry but the last had a first and last name, as well as time and location.

  I closed my eyes, centered myself, and put myself in a calm place before I picked up the phone and dialed. I hated this stage of an investigation.

  Ninety percent of Lynn’s appointments were with people in her address book, so I had their addresses and phone numbers. Beginning on September 1st, I called the appointments I could identify, all the time dreading I would reach a family member. I began each call the same way: “Hello, my name is Tiff Banks. I work with Clarion Police Department in Utah and I was Lynn’s friend. I only just heard the terrible news.” I couldn’t bring myself to use a false name, even though Provo might eventually call the same people and no doubt learn I already spoke to them.

  I didn’t leave messages for those who did not answer.

  Some were voluble, others terse. Some were relieved to not be plagued by a reporter; others would happily have gabbled on all day. No family members, thank the Lord. But speaking to her friends felt awful.

  No one suspected anything amiss with Lynn. She gave no indication she was in trouble.

  An hour later, I hooked my arm over the chair-back and chewed my lower lip.

  Lynn last consulted on the Collins/Klein case. Olivia Collins volunteered as a campaign aide for the Republican Party at their headquarters in Eugene, her husband Terry worked as a financial analyst. Both were in Portland while Olivia helped at a Republican rally. Coincidentally - ha ha - Polly Klein, a realtor and Terry’s lover, also took a trip to Portland. Olivia found hubby and Polly making cozy in their motel room bed. She shot Polly in the head. Terry tried to run, and she hit him in the back as he went through the door. She thought she got away with it, until Lynn stepped in.

  Lynn’s last entry on October 9th puzzled me. Whereas the other entries had a full name and time, this only said “RP.”

  Lynn had broken her pattern.


  I checked her notes again. She flew to Portland and stayed at the Economy Lodge on the 8th. Did she go home the same day? With Snoopy’s help, I hacked into the Economy Lodge database.

  Hm. Lynn originally made a reservation for the night of the 8th but extended for another night and checked out the morning of the 10th. She must have seen this RP in the Portland area.

  The doorbell rang and I heard Carrie say, “Look, it’s Hunkadelicious!”

  I trotted downstairs. Carrie stood at the kitchen window, her hands pressed to her breast. “Isn’t he lovely.”

  No argument from me. In a black shirt open at the neck, a short-waisted, blue denim jacket, tight blue jeans, brown leather cowboy boots with slightly worn heels and a brown leather belt with a huge silver buckle shaped like a coiled lariat, Royal looked Western tonight. A thin leather cord tied his hair in a tail. If I had to describe him in one word, it would be yummy. Or hunkadelicious.

  “If you like that type,” Jack said.

  Mel snorted and told Carrie, “Let me tell you, he likes that type.”

  “What do you … oh, a poofter, is he?”

  “A what?” from Jack.

  “You know. Queer, a twink, a fag.”

  Jack bristled. “No, I don’t.”

  I intervened. “Carrie, if you mean what I think, those terms are considered politically incorrect nowadays.”

  “Well, they were in my day too, dear.”

  She spoke to Jack. “Pulling your leg, pet; I knew it’d be Double Dutch to you. Your lifestyle is none of my business. Makes no difference to me. We’re all the same under the skin.”

  Jack pointed his nose in the air and stalked away. Oh dear. And here I thought they were getting along so well.

  I unlocked the door and let Royal in. He wanted the doors locked at all times - another security measure - and I actually remembered to do it last night. I usually forgot.

  My buddies were in the kitchen doorway. “Oh my gawd, look at the body on him,” Carrie drooled.

  I grabbed Royal’s hand. “Come upstairs.”

  He twitched his eyebrows. “There is no place I would rather be.”

  Carrie snickered.

  I towed him up the staircase and in my bedroom. He spun me and pulled me to his chest as we stepped through the door.