Ghostly Investigations

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Mike was dragging when he made it from his car to the front door of his townhouse. The sun was starting to come up. No wonder I’m beat. Why don’t people wait until daylight to get themselves killed? Then it would be someone else’s case.

There were lights on in several of the other townhouses surrounding the central courtyard of the complex. He knew it was because people were getting ready to face the day while he was heading home to bed. He was used to that, although normally he made it back much earlier than he had this morning—the lateness the result of having to write up the report on the Watts killing before leaving work.

Mike glanced across the courtyard when he heard a door open. A guy he only knew as Sage Crewe stepped onto the porch, bending to pick up his newspaper. He saw Mike and waved. Mike waved back before unlocking his door to go inside.

He tossed his suit coat on the sofa, thought better of it, and walked up to his bedroom to hang it up. Stripping down to his briefs, he went downstairs again to make breakfast. Not that he was hungry, but he knew from experience if he didn’t eat, he’d wake up in the middle of the day starving, and getting back to sleep would be iffy at best.

After eating, he took a fast shower then fell into bed. All the while, his mind went over the murder of Jon Watts.

Why would someone want to kill him? From what we found out, he apparently was a waiter at a small restaurant in the Hurley district. Hardly a place where he’d have brought home the kind of money we found in his wallet. For damned sure it wasn’t a mugging. The killer didn’t even try to make it look like one, since he didn’t empty Watts’ wallet of the cash and cards. Why? Was he after something he though Watts had on him, or in his car?

He decided he wouldn’t find the answer to that until he had a chance to interview the people where Watts worked, and any friends of his. “If I can find them,” he grumbled after setting his alarm clock for eleven. “We didn’t find an address book anywhere, and there wasn’t a computer in his place.” That had him frowning. What kind of person these days doesn’t have a computer, and a cell phone? We didn’t find a phone on his body. Making a mental note to find out if Watts had owned either item, he fell asleep.

* * * *

Brody showed up at Jon’s apartment around eleven-thirty. Jon was already up, walking back and forth in the living room. He stopped to check under the sofa—again—shaking his head.

“What are you missing?” Brody asked.

“My laptop. I didn’t realize last night that it was gone. And the cops didn’t take it. We were here when they were.”

“Where did you keep it?”

“On the desk. Duh.” Jon pointed. “And you know what else? They didn’t find my cell phone on my…my body.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. Remember, I saw the list of what was there, when the detective was making his report. I wonder if he’s smart enough to get that it was missing, and the laptop, or if he thinks I was too poor to have them.” He sighed. “The money says I wasn’t poor. Too bad it wasn’t mine.”

“Meaning you think it was planted in your wallet?”

Jon rolled his eyes. “No kidding.”

“Jon, you don’t remember anything before you were killed. How do you know it wasn’t your money?”

Jon’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t, I guess. I wonder…”

“What?”

“Maybe we should visit where I worked?”

“Do you recall where that was?”

“No,” Jon replied. “But I saw the restaurant’s name the detective put down in his report—probably from the business card he found—and memorized it. Pete’s Place.”

“Never heard of it.”

“It’s in Hurley.” Jon paused, shocked. “Hey! I remember that.”

“Great. Let’s go see what’s what.”