Ghostly Investigations Box Set

Chapter 2-2

“He never brought her in here,” Mr. Franklin admitted. “Still…”

“Okay. Thanks for the information. Is there anything else you can tell me?” Mike looked between the three of them. They all shook their heads, so he thanked them for their time and left.

His next step would be to visit Far Horizon, but not yet, since it was only one-thirty in the afternoon. He returned to the precinct to do what he should have before going to the restaurant—run checks on Jon Watts to see if anything came up that might explain why someone wanted him dead.

* * * *

“This isn’t bad,” Jon said, looking around the apartment. “Not quite a house, but…”

Brody chuckled. “But safe none the less. If we were alive, I’d have had to shut off the alarm system before we came in.”

Jon wandered around, checking out the kitchen and bedrooms. Not that either of them had any use for the kitchen—or the bathroom as far as that went. A good thing since he couldn’t turn on the water, although he suspected Brody could since he’d been a ghost for the last five years.

When he asked, Brody said, “I can, but I wouldn’t. Trust me the utilities are monitored, so it’s a good thing we don’t need heat or lights.”

“What about your scanner?”

“Batteries.”

“Okay.” Jon glanced at the TV. “I guess we can’t watch that.”

“I’m afraid not. But—” Brody smirked, “—when we get bored we can go to one of the other apartments and watch whatever they’ve got on.”

“Sneaky.”

“Nope. Taking advantage of what we are. If we’re stuck here, we might as well get the most out of it that we can. Like free movies, if there’s one you’ve been dying to see. Sorry. Bad pun.”

“Very bad,” Jon replied glumly.

Brody settled on the sofa, looking at Jon. “We’ve got all the time in the world, so let’s see if we can figure out who decided they wanted you dead.”

Sitting at the other end, Jon said, “It would help if I knew where I went after I left work yesterday. From what Mr. Franklin said, I was off at nine. So there’s two hours to account for before I got back home.”

“Maybe you stopped for a drink?”

“I don’t do that. I’m not…” Jon barely smiled. “Another thing I remember. I’m not big on bars or clubs. But…”

“But what?”

“Grant.”

“Care to expand on that?”

“There’s a guy. Grant. I sort of remember him. Tall. Good looking.” Jon frowned. “I think I went to a club with him a while ago.”

“Try to remember. It could be important, since you say you weren’t into bar hopping. There has to be some reason he stuck in your mind.”

Jon concentrated. “Nothing,” he finally said. “The name and the fact we were going out. That’s it.”

“As two buddies, with a couple of his friends, or on a date?”

“God. I don’t know, Brody. I’m surprised I remember him at all, when everything else is a blank.”

“Maybe something happened. Yeah, I know. You don’t have a clue. Still, I’m betting it did. If it was a date, then you’re gay, or at least bi.”

“Gay,” Jon replied without thinking. Then he sighed. “Not that anyone knew. Or at least I don’t think they did.” He smiled ruefully. “I told them I had a girlfriend, to put off a few of the customers who tried flirting with me.”

“It’s beginning to come back to you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Jon stared off into space. “But not yesterday. It’s still a total blank. I don’t even remember working, though I must have.”

“Maybe Detective Harris will figure it out. It’s his job and he’s good.”

Jon slanted a look at him. “You know…umm, knew him?”

“Yeah. We weren’t exactly friends but we worked a case together. It was right before I went undercover. If anyone other than us can figure out who killed you, it would be him. He’s got a great closure rate.”

Jon crossed his fingers. “What if maybe I was meeting Grant, whoever he is, at a club last night?”

“One possibility. We could hit up a few tonight, to see if any of them ring a bell.”

“Sure. It’s not like we have anything else to keep us busy.” Jon sighed. “Maybe it will take my mind off being dead.”

“You’ll get used to it in time. Think of all the free movies you can see.”

Jon managed a small smile. “There is that.” He glanced down at what he was wearing. “I can’t go to a club dressed like this.” He was still had on the clothes he’d died in.

“You look fine to me. Besides, you don’t have a choice. You’ll be wearing that until you move on.”

“Like you.”

Brody rolled his eyes. “Yeah. If I’d known what was going to happen I might have worn something better than worn jeans and a muscle shirt.” He chortled. “At least I wasn’t wearing my jeans a couple of sizes too large, so they sagged.”

Jon snorted out a laugh. “Yeah. That would have been the last straw, having to wear them until the end. If you were, I’d have to take a picture of you. You’d look that bad.” He patted his pocket, where he’d always kept this phone before remembering he didn’t have it. And couldn’t use it if I did. I wonder why whoever killed me wanted it and not the money. Then there’s my laptop, which is missing, too.

“You know,” he said in a burst of insight. “The guy who killed me must have gotten into my place, either before or after he killed me.”

“Since your laptop’s missing? Yeah. My bet it was before. He might have hesitated going in after.”

“Because he’d want to get away as fast as possible. I wish I knew what he thought I might have had on it.”

Brody thought for a moment. “Could you take pictures with your phone?”

“Ye…ah. Can’t everyone?”

“Okay. But did you?”

“Well…no. I’m not very tech savvy, to put it mildly. It seemed more bother than it was worth, to me.”

“But your killer wouldn’t know that. He might think you took a picture that implicated him in something. He’d want to make sure you didn’t send it to your laptop—either to a picture file or to your email.”

“He couldn’t get into my email,” Jon protested.

“As if. A competent hacker could fairly easily.”

“He wouldn’t find anything interesting. I got more spam than anything else.”

“No friends or, like, charity or political causes emailed you?”

“What friends?” Jon replied. “I had a couple, but it was about having someone to do things with more than anything else.”

“As far as you remember.”

“No. I know that—now. The only thing I don’t remember is the last day of my life.”

“We’ll start trying to fix that by visiting clubs and bars, on the off chance you went to one between leaving work and coming home.”

* * * *

Mike found out that Jon Watts did own a cell phone. Not that he seemed to have used it much, if the bills were any indication. Most of his calls were to Pete’s Place, where he worked, movie theaters—presumably to check movie times—and an unlisted number.

I wonder what that was about. A friend? Someone he worked with? It didn’t sound as if he and Jennie or Dan were friends outside of work.

Mike checked Watts’ credit card bills. He appeared to have paid his utility bills online, rather than by check. Other than that, there were purchases at some local stores and restaurants, but that was it.

He wasn’t exactly a big spender, which isn’t surprising since he worked at a small restaurant where people probably don’t tip all that much.

He checked the time—grumbling, “It’s seven already?”—printed out the information he’d found to put in the Watts murder file, then left to go home and change clothes before going to the club Dan had mentioned. The one Dan though Watts had gone to with someone named Grant.

An hour later Mike walked into Far Horizon.

Exactly the way I remember it.

Every table was taken, the dance floor was hopping, and there were no vacant stools at the long oak bar. Mike found a spot along one wall, leaned against it, and scanned the room while waiting for something to open up.

“I didn’t know you came here.”

Mike turned to see who was talking. “I could say the same, Sage.” His neighbor—who lived across the townhouse courtyard from Mike—stood there, a drink in his hand. “It’s a small world, I guess.”

Sage nodded. “If you’re waiting for a seat, good luck. Every time I spot one, someone beats me to it.”

“It’s that kind of place,” Mike agreed, still scanning the club. He wasn’t certain why, since he had no idea what Grant looked like.

“Are you looking for someone?” Sage asked.

“Yes.”

“Aren’t we all,” Sage replied with a wink.

“Not that way. I’m here on business.”

“Oh. Okay. What does he look like? If I see him…”

With no other recourse, since if he didn’t tell him something Sage would probably keep dogging his steps, Mike showed him the picture he’d printed up from Watts’ driver’s license.

“Not bad looking. Why do you want to find him?”

“He’s missing,” Mike lied. “I was told he hung around here sometimes.” Before Sage could say anything more, Mike spotted a man getting up from the bar. He made quick work of crossing the room to snag the stool before anyone else could.

After ordering a beer, he took out the picture of Watts again. When the bartender returned with his drink, Mike asked, “Do you remember seeing this man here last night, Mr.?” He looked at the bartender questioningly.

“Roger,” the bartender replied. Then he took the time to look at the picture before shaking his head. “Not last night that I saw, but he does look familiar. Before you say anything, I have an almost photographic memory for faces. Why are you looking for him?”

Mike showed the man his ID. “He was murdered last night. According to a guy he worked with, he came in here at least once, about a month ago, with a couple of other men.”

Roger rested his hands on the bar, staring at the picture. “Okay. Yeah. It was about that long ago, but he’s been in here since. Twice. Both times he was alone.”

“Do you remember what the men he was here with looked like?”

“One was tall, blond hair a bit too long. The other one had dark hair and wore wire-rim glasses. If I remember right, this guy—” he tapped the photo, “—seemed to be with the blond. I wouldn’t swear to it though.”

“Thanks. At least that’s a start. Has the blond been in since then?”

“Once. He was a Manhattan drinker, is why he stood out more. The guy in the photo only drank water with a twist.”

Mike took out one of his business cards, handing it to Roger. “If you see the blond in here again, please give me a call.”

“Will do.”

* * * *

“This is crazy,” Jon said. “How the hell many bars are there in the city?”

Brody laughed. “Too many, from a cop’s perspective. Let’s try this one and a couple more and call it a night.”

They took advantage of two men leaving Far Horizon to enter without having to go through the wall.

“I think…Yeah, I’ve been here before.”

“Last night?”

“You know I don’t remember yesterday. But…” Jon looked around. “This is the club I came to with Grant. Then a couple of times after, looking for him.” He smiled sourly. “I guess I was hoping to reconnect, since he hadn’t called me after the first time. Hope springs eternal and all that shit.”