Never Forgotten

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Never Forgotten

A Mary O’Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book Three)

The snow fell softly on the rooftops in the city of Freeport. From his vantage place in the City Hall Building, the Police Chief stood at his office window and looked down over the people he vowed to serve and protect. He hoped they were gathered together with their families enjoying this magical evening.

Christmas Eve.
A night of peace.
A night of joy.
A night of miracles.

He smiled to himself as he contemplated the miracles that had occurred in his own life. Even the idea of being Chief of the Freeport Police Department was something miraculous to him. Who would have thought that a beat cop could have made it to the top?

The smile was replaced by a frown as he received another sharp pain in his stomach. He really needed to see someone about the pains, they were getting increasingly worse. Probably an ulcer, he thought. It would make sense, given how crazy my life has been lately.

Walking back to his desk, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a container of antacid tablets. After taking three, the pain seemed to dissipate a little. He sat back in his chair and enjoyed the silence of his office for a moment.

I really ought to be getting home.

He sighed and shook his head.

Home to an empty house.
Home to an undecorated tree.
Home to a lonely evening filled with memories.

A sound in the hallway quickly had him on alert.
Footsteps.
Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was after ten. Who in the world was still in the office at this hour?

The sharp rap on the door had him sitting up at his desk.

“Yes?”

The door opened. He sighed silently. Not this again.

She moved slowly towards his desk. She was dressed for an evening on the town, not a late night at work. He couldn’t help but notice the dress accentuated every part of her body. Perhaps she had been called away from a party.

“Something up?” he asked.

She slid a hip on the corner of his desk and leaned forward, her ample curves very much on display. He swallowed and lifted his face to meet her eyes.

“No, I was thinking about you and saw your office light on when I was driving by,” she purred. “So, I thought I’d come up and say ‘Merry Christmas.’”

He smiled, briefly. “Well, that was very nice of you,” he said.
“Merry Christmas.
Now don’t let me keep you from your festivities.”

She glided closer. “We could celebrate,” she said, whispering, reaching forward to caress his face. “I have some mistletoe and some champagne. We could lock the door and no one would have to know.”

He stood abruptly, his chair clattering to the floor behind him.

“Look,” he said, trying to find the right combination of patience and firmness in his voice, “You are a very attractive woman.
Incredibly attractive.
But, I just can’t…”

She slipped off the desk and folded her arm across her chest, her mouth held in a pout.

“Yes, I know,” she said, with a petulant shrug.
“Your wife.”

He nodded. “Yeah, my wife and…
other
things. It’s just not going to work between us. I’m sorry.”

She walked around the desk to him, her high heels clicking slowly as she approached. Like a panther on the prowl, he thought. She slipped her arms up his chest and around his neck, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Just one kiss?” she whispered, “to say good-bye.”

He pulled his head back and shook it. “No, I’m afraid not.”

She sighed and stepped away.

“I would have been remarkable,” she said. “I could have made you forget anyone else.”

He stepped back. “I don’t doubt that for a moment. But, I don’t want to forget. And we have to work together; I don’t want anything to interfere with our jobs.”

He grimaced; the pain in stomach hit him again.

“Oh, poor baby,” she cooed. “Stomach bothering you?”

He took a deep breath and pushed past the pain. “It’s nothing. It’ll pass.”

Running her hand down the side of his face, she smiled. “Oh, I’m sure it will.”

She walked across the room to the small table holding a coffee pot, a couple of mugs and several containers. “Are you still drinking the tea I gave you?” she asked, lifting the ornamental metal container.

He nodded. “Yeah, thanks, it does seem to help.”

She opened it. “Well, look at this, it’s almost empty. Why don’t you let me take it and refill it? No strings,” she added quickly, “Just between friends.”

He nodded, appreciating her emphasis on friends. “That would be nice. Thanks.”

The pain in his stomach intensified; he bent forward and clasped the table. “I don’t know what’s happening,” he groaned. “It just started this week.”

Slipping the lid back on the container, she placed it in her purse. “Sometimes these things take on a life of their own. Would you like me to call an ambulance?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m sure I’ll be…”

“Okay,” she replied lightly, wiggling her fingers in a wave. “Bye Chief. Too bad this couldn’t have come to a more mutually satisfying ending.”

She paused at the door when she heard his body hit the ground. “Well, damn. He couldn’t have waited another ten minutes?”

She turned back into the room, placed her purse on the table and walked over to his prone body. She looked around and found a plastic wrapper on his desk. Placing it between her fingers and his neck, she felt for a pulse.

Nothing.

She sighed, stuffed the wrapper into the bottom of the trash can, walked across the room, lifted her purse, turned back to the body and shrugged.
“Too bad.
We could have been great.”

“Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow,” Bradley sang, as he pulled his car into the parking spot reserved for the Chief of Police.

He glanced up to the second floor and, for a moment,
thought
he saw a glimmer of light at the window from former Police Chief Sam Rodger’s office. Narrowing his eyes, he looked again.
Nothing.
“I’ve got ghosts on my mind,” he thought and then grinned, thinking of Mary. “And that’s not a bad thing.”

Mary O’Reilly was a local private investigator, who, through a near-death experience, now had the ability to communicate with ghosts. Although he had been a firm skeptic, a few months working with her had not only turned Bradley into a believer, but had changed his entire life.

There were only a couple of things to do before he could go home. He glanced down at the clock display in the cruiser. It was a little after ten. Later than he planned because he really hadn’t meant to stay at Mary’s for as long as he did. His grin grew even wider, but he was darn glad he had.

He got out of the vehicle and walked over to the large brick building. Catching a glimpse of his reflection in City Hall’s glass doors, he shook his head. He looked like a love-struck teenager. It was certainly not the impression the Chief of Police should be making. He took a deep breath and schooled his features as he watched himself in the reflection.

A little tougher, he thought, closing his eyes slightly and firming his jaw. Yeah, better.

He turned his head to the side. Yeah, now he looked like the tough cop the people of Freeport had come to know and love.

Love.

He sighed, his eyes widened, his jaw softened and the grin came back. Damn, he was in love. And it felt really good. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open and went in.

Only the emergency lights were on in the building, and although they were dim, they shed enough light for Bradley to find his way to the second floor.

He paused at the top of the stairs. The former Chief’s office had been turned into a computer lab, housing some new equipment the city had purchased before Bradley had taken the job. When he took the position, the mayor had offered to have the equipment moved somewhere else, but Bradley was just as happy with his smaller office at the end of the hall. There was something about the old office that made him uneasy.

He walked past the office. A frisson of uneasiness sent the hairs on the back of his neck tingling. He stopped at the door. The noise was muffled, if he hadn’t been concentrating on the room, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. He placed his hand on the door knob and slowly turned it.

He heard the well-oiled latch softly slip from the strike plate as he pulled the door towards him. The room was unlit, but the glow from the streetlights outside allowed Bradley to see. The large room had been divided up into a maze of four quadrants, using eight foot shelving units to separate the stations. The old building, with its twelve-foot pressed tin ceiling, had plenty of room to spare on top of the shelves, so they had become a gardener’s paradise of spider plants, philodendron, English ivy, Boston Ferns and any other random plant that needed a home. Usually inviting, the plants now threw sinister shadows along the walls and other surfaces.

Bradley crept forward between the tall narrow aisles created by the shelves. Just before he reached the corner he heard a thump, the sound of a body hitting the floor. He rushed forward into the corner of the room.