Deadly Night (22 page)

Her cell phone chirped. Once, and then followed by three more chirps. Text messages from someone.

“
It’s Jackie.”

She shielded her handset from the sun so she could read the four messages. In reality one long message that could only be transmitted in sections.

“
How are she and Angie doing?”

“
Apparently
very
well,” she told me, and then her face lit up. Actually, her mouth dropped open first. “Jackie’s talking about a local television station that wants to do a weekly talk show centered upon the paranormal. Paranormal investigations—what we do! And, they’re really interested in
our
group—NVP—hosting the series!
Can you believe it??”

She nearly shrieked this last part, perhaps unaware of the potential damage to anyone’s eardrums nearby. Namely mine again. Though, my excitement wasn’t far removed from hers.

“
Are you serious??”

“
Yes!”

“
That’s wonderful news, Fiona!” said Stella, stepping out of the pool with Ryan right behind her.

“
I’m hungry, Mommy!” he announced, focused on his growling tummy.

“
Me, too!”

Isn’t that how it always works? Little brother’s urgent tone came out shriller than Ryan’s.

“
Why don’t I fix you some grilled cheese sandwiches?” Stella suggested, wrapping both boys with towels as they stepped into their flip-flops. She grabbed a towel for herself. “Would you like anything, Jimmy? Fiona?”

“
A grilled cheese sandwich sounds pretty good,” I told her, still trying to wrap my mind around Fiona’s announcement. “Do you need any help in the kitchen?”

“
No, I’ll take care of everything—you and Fiona just relax with the boys in the living room, and I’ll call you when everything’s ready.”

I must admit, a guy could really get used to such pampering. Fiona warned me it would be like this when we decided to move in for the week. Sort of like the Siren affect on Odysseus and his men, or was that some other Greek myth I’m referring to?

“
Thanks, Auntie…I think I’ll pass on the sandwich. Maybe I’ll dip into the wonderful stew you fixed last night,” said Fiona, still reading the texts from Jackie. She smiled even more while nodding her head. “It sure looks like things might
finally
be looking up for us!”

“
Well, I sure hope so!” said Stella, motioning for us all to follow her inside her wonderful home after waving to the Goodlettsville cop parked inside her spacious carport. “Lord knows you two could sure use a break!”

***

The day disappeared quickly. Before I knew it twilight had arrived, and instead of planning lunch, Stella and Fiona cleaned up after dinner.

The good news is we’ll be able to rejoin the NVP gang tomorrow night at Tom’s place. One of Nashville’s finest will be in attendance, but I believe we can ignore any smirks or cynical remarks while we review the findings from our last three investigations. I’m a little miffed at myself for not getting a picture of that damned mist last week. So far I’ve only told Fiona about it…and I gave her such a summarized version of events that I’m not sure even she understood the full impact of the experience. I sometimes assume her gifts will fill in the blanks, but it doesn’t always happen.

I look forward to finding out more about the TV series, and I’m assuming we’ll work out the details for the two investigations this week. Then on Wednesday, I’ll rehearse with the band—our final run-through before the big gig on Saturday. I would’ve liked to get one more practice in before the weekend, on Friday, but Mongo has a country gig that night he can’t get out of. Frigging traitor.

Other than the fact Fiona and I must return to our day jobs this week, I’d be feeling really good about this week’s prospects, given all the music and paranormal research excitement going on. But the thing that Fiona told me earlier, about giving her some time to ponder our safety?

After dinner, we all went back outside. The pool area’s an amazing sanctuary, complete with a natural rock spring and waterfall that also feeds the pool. A great place to relax at night, either sitting on the extended patio or in the spa I mentioned earlier.

Not tonight. That fantasy disappeared as soon as my wife brought her tarot cards outside with her.

Stating she felt burdened to ‘take a look’ at what’s going on around us, she normally reserves this kind of reading for her clients and friends outside the immediate family. It’s definitely not a good sign she’s doing it for us tonight.

I tried to distract myself by playing with the kids in the pool, while Stella relaxed in a lounge chair nearby, sipping a glass of wine. All the while, I wondered what Fiona was picking up from the other side. She chose a table near the pool’s deep end, beneath one of the security lamps. The glow provided sufficient light for her to conduct her reading despite the table’s umbrella. I could see enough of the cards’ reflected surfaces to detect the cross formation she favors.

Some readers say her ‘flow and follow through’ are incorrect. Maybe unorthodox in traditional occult terms, yet Fiona is always accurate. Always.

“
Well, Ed’s right about Vito Travini,” she said afterward, out of earshot of the kids and her aunt. She placed her cards back inside her purse. “The cards and my guides gave me nothing about him.”

She shrugged her shoulders, but the wan expression on her face told me this really bothered her.

“
What is it, babe?”

“
I’m not sure... it’s kind of weird that I didn’t pick up anything on him.” She studied my face before going on. “If he
was
here, I should’ve picked up on his energy—especially after everything Ed shared with us. I got nothing, and my guides were silent.”

“
Maybe he’s so long gone from here that he took his black-ass aura with him,” I teased, which was met by a reproachful glance. “Okay, I have no idea what to think about all this.”

She nodded pensively, and then sighed. Deep, as if her soul might dissipate if she drew another breath.

“
The killer is
still
here…somewhere in our area,” she said, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “The guy I’ve seen since this all started? He’s never left.”

The dude with red hair.

“
So, do we tell everyone the details from your card reading last night?”

6:30 p.m., Monday evening at Tom’s place. Fiona and I’d just arrived in Stella’s Cadillac, hoping a different vehicle might bring us some luck against the red-headed killer dude still here…somewhere in Nashville. Honestly, that reason is secondary to the fact Stella insisted on Fiona driving her car, since it rarely gets taken on trips of twenty-five miles or more. Ed thought it’d be a good idea too.

Yeah, he showed up in Goodlettsville this afternoon. Though I’m never gonna fall in love with the guy, I think we’re beginning to develop some level of mutual respect. In other words, we ain’t near as standoffish to one another, though the real test will come if we ever have to interact outside of Fiona’s presence. The fur might fly if that happens.

“
I don’t know,” she replied, pausing while she finished parking the car inside Tom’s carport. “Tonight might not be the right time to say anything, especially when everyone’s excited about the television show and the fact we can get together again, after a week in isolation from one another.”

Good point.

“
But, if this guy goes on the attack again…could you live with yourself by not saying anything?” I persisted. She regarded me for a moment, her eyes welling with tears. I almost moved to smooth over what I just said, but she stopped me.

“
I’ll tell them,” she said, dabbing at her eyes so her mascara wouldn’t run. “Just let me do it my way tonight, okay?”

“
Sure,” I agreed, making sure I sounded compassionate. Sometimes I don’t, even though I feel empathetic. I’m a bit jaded after spending the last five years at my day gig. “I’ll follow your lead. Should I say anything to remind you if we’re about to leave and the opportunity hasn’t presented itself yet?”

“
No…no, that won’t be necessary,” she assured me. “I’ll make sure to do it before we leave.”

That settled, we prepared to join the others. I assumed everyone was here, since Jackie’s SUV sat parked in the carport along with Tony’s truck. Tom returned home last night. The only other person present was the lone metro police officer standing outside the back gate. His patrol car occupied the space between the SUVs. He smiled and waved to us as we got out of the car.

“
Fiona and Jimmy…Alea?” he asked, motioning for us to come over to him.

“
Yeah that’s us,” I said. Beyond him I could see the tops of Justin and Tom’s heads on the other side of the fence. “Do we need to sign anything to get in?”

“
No, that won’t be necessary,” he said, smiling sheepishly. A definite sign this guy had a good personality.

My luck with cops hasn’t worked out so well. Maybe it’s the hair, earrings, and such. Driving a fast car and a Harley does little to help matters, I’m sure. So when I meet a police officer who doesn’t seem immediately hung up on appearances and other external bullshit, I sincerely appreciate it.

Jerry Sloan is the cop’s name. A veteran of sixteen years, as Tom would tell us later, Officer Sloan stands just an inch or so shorter than me and looks like he works out some. Sandy brown hair with the kind of thick moustache Ed should have, instead of the pussy tickler he prefers. Jerry’s intense green eyes make him look like he should be shaking hands at a political rally instead of writing speeding tickets and guarding potential murder victims. But, I’m glad he’s here.

“
I believe your friends are waiting for you inside, and I’ll keep watch out here if you need me,” he advised, flashing a perfect row of pearly whites.

Even Fiona noticed the man’s physique and charm, raising an admiring eyebrow as we moved through the gate to our buds on the other side. The same rules apply to her as me…lookin’s ‘A-okay’.

“
What up, Ale-e-a-a-h-h-s-s?”

Justin was the first one to greet us—both with warm hugs. Jackie and Angie quickly followed, squealing ‘it’s Fiona and Jimmy!’ like nubile girls at a Jonas Brothers concert. If not for the separation and the strange circumstances we all find ourselves in, I might’ve avoided the initial contact with our female partners in the paranormal investigation biz tonight. Both girls gave me impulsive pecks on my cheeks, which made me feel like a little kid seeing a long lost aunt for the first time. Good thing the guys weren’t so carried away. Just a quick handshake with Tony and a pat on the back from Tom, our emotionally repressed duo.

“
We’ve got a lot of things to cover tonight, so without further adieu, please grab a drink and follow me to ‘le studio’.” It sounded worse than I presented here, but Tom’s entreaty for us to come along proved effective enough.

“
Jimmy, I’ll grab you a beer if you’d like, and a wine cooler for the Misses!”

Justin is revved up ala Chris Rock. What would life be like without this guy? I hope to never know.

“
Sounds great, man!” I told him, chuckling. “Any Heinekens or Killians in the cooler over there?”

“
Nah…not tonight,” said Justin, his grin mischievous. “Tom and Tony went cheap-ass and bought just Miller cow-pee.”

“
I brought along some Bud longnecks, if you’re interested, Cracker Jack!”

Count on Angie to come through in a pinch, since it beats bottled water.

“
All right. That’ll work for me!”

Similar to last time we did this, she tossed me a bottle. Tom was in the process of upbraiding Justin for his beer comment when this happened. The blood drained from his face and he stopped his tirade in mid-sentence. Thank God I caught it. As for Fiona’s wine cooler, Jackie brought that over to her, nodding graciously toward our hyperventilating host.

Nice gesture by her, as otherwise we might’ve been subject to a long, drawn out lecture from Dr. Tom Gaither. Manners are always the main thing with him—even if it means missing out on a little fun now and then. I guess that’s the difference between AARP and twenty to thirty-somethings, though I’d bet he’s been a stick in the mud since he was a diapered tot. Thankfully he did let it slide, smiling appreciative and then he deferred to Fiona’s admonishment to get busy on the night’s agenda.

“
Remember we’ve got a curfew to stick with, according to Ed,” she said, and moved over to where Tom stood.

He accepted her invitation to wrap her arm inside his, and the two led the way to the studio. Tony followed close behind them, and I could tell by his expression he felt greatly relieved the potential blow-up didn’t happen. Jackie and Angie followed next, leaving Justin and me to pull up the rear.

“
You almost got us hammered, you know,” I chided him, playfully. “Is it your goal to see what it’ll take to give the old man a full-blown heart attack?”

“
Not a heart attack…just a banana flavored enema to loosen his tight-ass up!”

Ha!

“
Shushhhh!!!”

Angie turned around, her forefinger pressed to her lips in annoyance, though her naughty smile contradicted the gesture.