Ghostly Investigations Box Set

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2Mike 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.”

* * * *

“It’s not bad, for being stuck between a near-new store and a smoke shop,” Brody commented when they entered the restaurant just after noon. “Does it look familiar?”

Hesitantly, Jon replied, “Yeah. Yeah, it does.”

It was one long room, running from the door back to what Jon immediately knew was the kitchen and a hallway to the restrooms. There were several tables, covered with checked tablecloths. To one side was a counter with a cash register and a display of candies and cellophane-wrapped cookies.

An older man—the owner and Jon’s boss, Mr. Pete Franklin—stood behind the counter, keeping an eye on things. People were seated at all the tables, with one waiter handling all of them.

“What happened to Jon?” Jon overheard someone ask the waiter.

“Hell if I know. He didn’t show up this morning,” the waiter grumped.

“I guess your murder hasn’t made the news yet,” Brody commented. “Either that or they’re not letting it out who was killed.”

“I think my boss is going to find out real soon,” Jon replied, seeing Detective Harris come into the restaurant. The man went directly to the counter, saying something to Jon’s boss, who shook his head, gesturing to the full room. Jon drifted closer so he could listen in.

“Do you have an employee by the name of Jonathan Watts?” Harris asked Mr. Franklin.

“Yeah. If you’re looking for him, he didn’t come in this morning.”

Harris lowered his voice. “That’s because Mr. Watts was murdered late last night.”

“The hell you say,” Mr. Franklin replied. “What happened? Was he mugged or…or…” His voice petered out as he seemed to process the information.

“He was killed in the parking lot of his apartment building. The ME estimates around eleven last night. He was found a couple of hours after that by a man coming home late from…well, that doesn’t matter. What time did he leave here last night?”

“He was working a split shift yesterday. Eleven to three, then five until closing at nine. He was due in at six this morning, to work until nine, then back at eleven.”

“Did he always work split shifts?” Harris asked.

“During the week, yeah. Weekends it was eleven to closing with a couple of breaks when it was slow.” Mr. Franklin stared down at the counter. “I can’t believe someone would kill him. He was a good kid. Okay, not a kid but…” He took a deep breath.

“Did he have an altercation with a customer yesterday?”

“Jon? No. Everyone liked him. He’s the best waiter I have. Had,” Mr. Franklin said quietly. “Was it a mugging?”

“We don’t think so. There was cash in his wallet, and credit cards.”

“Not much, I bet. People tip, but it’s not like this is a fancy place.”

Apparently not wanting to reply to that, Harris asked, “Do you know who his friends were?”

“Ask Dan, over there.” Mr. Franklin pointed to the lone waiter. “But not right now, please. It’s only him and me, and the cook and dishwasher at the moment. Jennie, my waitress is due in at two-thirty. She covers while the guys are off, then works with them until closing.”

“I can come back.” Harris thanked Mr. Franklin for his help and had started toward the door when as a woman dashed in, heading around the counter to Mr. Franklin. She looked distressed to the point of tears.

“You won’t…I can’t believe…” she said. “Jon’s been…”

Mr. Franklin put one arm around her shoulders. “I just heard, Jennie.”

“Who would want to kill Jon?” she said, loudly enough that the customers closest to the counter heard her. There were a couple of gasps, then people took out their phones.

Jon had the feeling they were checking online to make certain what the woman was saying was the truth. From the looks on their faces, they found out that it was. Jon wasn’t certain if he was upset or surprised at the looks of dismay and sorrow they evidenced.

“I didn’t know they cared,” he whispered to Brody, even though whispering wasn’t necessary, all things considered. “I thought, as far as they were concerned, I was only the guy who took their orders and brought their food, nothing more.”

Brody shook his head. “You heard what your boss said. People here liked you.”

“I guess, but…”

“Take it for what it’s worth. They’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss them, too. Damn it!” Jon wondered if ghosts could cry, because it sure felt as if he was going to.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Brody said. Taking Jon’s hand, he marched him right through the closest wall. Luckily they ended up on the street, not in one of the neighboring buildings. Not that it would have mattered, since no one could see them.

“I want…” Jon took a deep breath. “I want to go home, but it’s not home anymore.” He looked at Brody. “Where do ghosts stay, when they don’t have anywhere to call their own? I can’t share the apartment with someone who’s alive and…and living their life. It would hurt too much.”

“You can share my place until we find you somewhere else.”

“You have a house?”

Brody waggled his hand. “Define house.”

“A place with rooms, four walls, a floor, and ceiling.”

“Close enough. Do you know what a safe house is?”

Jon nodded. “From the novels I’ve read, it’s something the cops set up to keep a witness safe before a case goes to trial.”

“Pretty much. The department has three of them. A lot of the time, they stand empty. It’s not like there’s that many people who are in danger of being killed or intimidated before they show up in court. And the houses are never all in use at the same time. So, I co-opt one of them. I have to move around sometimes, but I’ve gotten used to that. Before you ask, I’m not big on sharing with the living any more than you are. The dead though…” Brody grinned at Jon.

“Had to go there, didn’t you?” Jon groused. “If you’re sure you won’t mind a house guest.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I did.”

“Then, thank you. I appreciate the offer.”

* * * *

“One more question,” Mike said to Mr. Franklin. “Do you know if Mr. Watts had a cell phone?”

“Of course he did. Who doesn’t these days? Why?”

“Just asking,” Mike replied.

Apparently Mr. Franklin wasn’t dumb, because he said, “It wasn’t on his…body when he was found.”

“No.”

“Then maybe he was mugged but the guy who did it was scared off before he found Jon’s wallet?”

“It’s possible,” Mike agreed, although he was certain that wasn’t the case. He turned to Jennie. “You worked with Mr. Watts. Did he talk about any friends, or have you met any of them?”

She shook her head. “I know he had a couple, because he’d sometimes say he was meeting one or another of them after work, but if he mentioned their names I don’t remember them.”

“Grant,” the waiter said as he joined them. “That’s one of Jon’s friends—not me. I’m Dan.”

“Do you remember his last name?” Mike asked, making note of the first name.

“I don’t think Jon ever said. He told me, maybe a month ago, he was going to a club with this Grant, and a couple of other guys.”

“What club?”

“Umm.” Dan frowned. “The something Horizon, maybe?”

“Far Horizon?” Mike asked. He knew it was a gay bar.

“Could be. I’m not into the club scene.”

“But Jon was?”

Jennie replied, “Not really. Not at all, actually. I…” She hesitated, chewing her lip. “Okay. I asked him soon after he started working here if he’d like to go dancing. He said he didn’t know how. I told him we could go out for a drink instead. Then he said he didn’t drink. He was very sweet about it so I wasn’t mad.”

And yet, if Dan’s remembering correctly, he did go to a gay bar with Grant whoever. Since Jennie tried to get him to go out with her, I’d say no one here knew he was gay. Of course, I may be jumping to conclusions.

Mike asked. “Was Jon gay?”

“Jon? Not at all,” Mr. Franklin replied. “He always had female customers, the young ones, coming on to him and when that happened he told them he had a girlfriend.”

“Oh? Have any of you met her?”

“Obviously I haven’t,” Jennie said sourly. “If I had…” She shrugged.