Never Forgotten (14 page)

“You’re right, Bradley,” Mary interrupted loudly. “There’s no way you’re going to get any rest here at my place. I’m so sorry I suggested it.”

The room was suddenly silent.

Stanley hung his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, I guess I need to apologize. I was just yanking Rosie’s chain and I caused more ruckus than I intended. You come on in, young man; we’ll take good care of you.”

They led him over to the couch and got him settled in. A few moments later, Rosie came in from the kitchen carrying a tray of food. “Here you go, Bradley, a scrambled egg, some lovely fruit and toast.”

“Wow, Rosie, thank you,” he said, “This is wonderful.”

Rosie blushed. “Thank you, Bradley.”

“
Ain’t
no one can whip up a meal like Rosie,” Stanley said.

“Stanley,” Rosie gasped. “You said something nice.”

His eyebrows rose, “You saying I
ain’t
nice?”

Chuckling, Rosie bustled over and kissed him on his forehead. He turned beet red. “Now, just stop that, woman,” he said with a slight smile. “You’re embarrassing Bradley.”

Scooping up a spoonful of eggs, Bradley nodded, “Oh, yes, I’m really feeling embarrassed about now.”

“You play checkers?” Stanley asked.

“I don’t just play checkers, I rule at checkers,” Bradley responded.

“We’ll just see, you little whippersnapper.”

“Whippersnapper,” Bradley and Mary said simultaneously, looking at each other.

Mary walked over to Bradley, kissed him on his forehead and said, “I think I’ll go on over to City Hall and see if I can talk to a man about a curse. You take it easy and let Rosie and Stanley pamper you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, adding with a meaningful look. “You be careful out there.”

She nodded. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Walking into the kitchen, she found Rosie stirring a pot of simmering chicken soup. “Wow, this smells great. If I didn’t have so much to do, I’d pretend I was sick, just to get you to take care of me.”

Rosie beamed with delight. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty left when you get done today,” she said. “You have to be sure you take care of yourself, too.”

Mary gave Rosie a hug. “Thanks for being my friend.”

The drive to the County Building took less than ten minutes. Mary parked her car around the corner and hurried to Linda’s office. Linda Lincoln, a dark-haired, middle-aged woman, was the County Clerk. Mary had learned that Linda could have run the entire county single-handedly, but the entire county could not have run without Linda.

“So, you’re going after the curse,” Linda said, handing a stack of papers to Mary over the counter.

“Why does everyone in this county know about the curse but me?” she asked.

“You probably haven’t been here long enough,” Linda replied. “It started about four years ago. It was fairly random, a police officer from one of the smaller towns, then a fireman, then a sheriff’s deputy, there never seemed to be any connection.”

“But, of course, there is one,” Mary said. “There’s always a connection.”

“Why are you so interested?”

Mary took a deep breath. It’s stupid to get emotional over this, she thought. “Bradley,” she began, and then had to stop to steady her voice. “Bradley’s sick.”

“Oh, no,” Linda gasped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. But, Mary, it’s not the curse. It can’t be the curse.”

“I know, Linda,” Mary said, “because those men died and Bradley is not going to die.”

Linda’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she nodded fervently. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. So, tell me. What can I do to help?”

Pausing for just a moment, Mary looked down at the large pile of papers Linda had just handed to her. “If you’re willing, I could use your help,” she said. “All I need is the name of the person who
died,
a brief description and the place they died.”

“The funeral home?”
Linda asked.

“No, the place they found the body,” Mary said.

Nodding, Linda took the paperwork back. “I’ll call you as soon as I have any information. But, I can tell you that Sam Rogers died in his office, if that helps.”

“That’s right,” Mary said. “Yes, that does help. Thanks.”

Mary started to leave, and then stopped and turned back. “Angela Murray, the Coroner, I thought she was a funeral director, but her office is at the hospital.”

Linda motioned for Mary to come back to the counter and she leaned forward, her voice low. “She had a little funeral home in one of the smaller towns, it didn’t do very well,” she explained. “People here are still pretty traditional. A woman funeral director was hard to get used to, especially a young, pretty woman funeral director. So, she sold the business, got an office next to the morgue at the hospital and runs an Internet business from her home.”

“What does she sell?” Mary asked.

“Herbal things,” Linda replied. “I got some really nice salve that I use for aching joints, it really works well. I also got some herbal concoction to get rid of mice in my house, it’s all natural, but those mice drop like flies.”

“What’s the site called?”

“Magic Hollow Herbs and Potions,” Linda said. “She has a blog that she updates regularly. She’s a bit more supernatural than I like, but her products are good.”

“Does she sell teas?” Mary asked.

Linda smiled. “Yeah, I nearly bought some Love Potion tea last month,” she blushed slightly. “But since you brought Bob and me together, I guess I won’t need it.”

“I guess not,” Mary replied. “Thanks for the extra information. I’m going to head over to City Hall. Call me when you get information on the others.”

“Okay, I’ll start right away.”

Mary drove the few blocks to City Hall to save time. She dashed up the stairs and headed toward the room she and Bradley had met Sam in a few days ago. She placed her hand on the door knob and was about to turn it when she was interrupted. “Hello? Excuse me. Can I help you?” Dorothy called from her desk at the end of the hall.

Mary swallowed a sigh and turned toward the administrative assistant. “Hi Dorothy, I’m Mary O’Reilly, Bradley’s friend,” she said. “I’m helping him investigate a series of deaths in the county and this is one of the places I need to look.”

Dorothy pushed her chair back and hurried down the hall. “I’m sorry, what could possibly be in that room that would help you
investigate
a number of deaths?” she asked.

Mary paused for a moment and studied Dorothy’s face. What the hell.
“The ghost of Sam Rogers.”

They entered the room together. Mary heard Dorothy locking it securely after them and looked over her shoulder at her.

“We don’t want anyone to disturb us,” Dorothy quickly explained.

Mary shrugged and moved forward into the room, through the narrow corridors toward the far corner. She froze when she heard the click of the gun’s trigger being cocked. Mary slowly turned around and her heart dropped. Dorothy stood at the end of the corridor with a handgun in her hands, pointed at Mary’s heart.

“I’m going to have to kill you,” Dorothy said, her voice trembling.

Crap, she’s nervous, Mary thought. She could accidentally shoot me.

“You know, Dorothy,” Mary said, trying to sound calm though her heart was beating out of control. “I had a similar situation happen to me several years ago. Except the person holding the gun was a doped up gang member.”

“I was on a stake-out with the Chicago Police Department,” she said, “Did you know I was a cop in Chicago?”

Dorothy didn’t move.

“Well, I was a cop, but my dad and brothers are still cops,” she said, as she desperately tried to come up with an escape plan. “I was a cop until I died.”

She saw the gun waver a little and then saw something else that gave her hope. “Perhaps you didn’t know I died,” she said. “Yeah, this gang member was aiming at my brother. I didn’t have time to warn him, so I just got in the way. I’ve got to tell you, getting shot hurts. It hurts a lot. It’s really something I’d rather not do again.”

She shrugged. “But, I suppose if I hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have been able to come back and talk to ghosts.”

The gun shook slightly.

“It’s really a secret, but seeing that it’s just you, Sam and I in the room, I thought I could let you in on the secret.”

Dorothy shook her head, lowering the gun slightly. “Sam’s not here. You killed him. That’s why you think his ghost is here.”

Mary sighed. “You think I killed Sam,” she said. “Well, that’s a relief. I thought you killed Sam and figured I was catching on to you and wanted to kill me. Okay, so neither of us killed Sam. Good.”

“No, you killed him,” Dorothy said, raising the gun back up.

“Not so good,” Mary said. “Okay, ask me a question that only Sam would know and I’ll ask Sam, he’ll tell me the answer and you’ll know I didn’t kill him.”

“Are you crazy?” she asked.

Mary nearly laughed. “No, really, just give it a try.”

“Okay, ask Sam what our song is,” she said.

Mary looked over to Sam who was standing next to Dorothy, concern written all over his face. “Sam, I really don’t want to die again. Could you please tell me what your song is?”

Sam shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I didn’t know we had a song.”

Mary closed her eyes. She was going to die because Sam was a typical man. Crap.

“Dorothy,” she said. “He didn’t know you had a song. He’s sorry; he doesn’t know your song. Could you please ask another question and not kill me?”

Dorothy lowered the gun slightly. “It’s just like him not to remember,” she said. “It was “Time Goes On.”

Mary looked at Sam, and he shook his head.
“Sorry, Dorothy, still nothing from him.
But, I know the song - it’s a classic.”

Dorothy dropped the gun to her side and covered her mouth with her other hand. “You’re not lying,” she gasped. “He is here with us.”

“Yes, he’s standing next to you,” Mary replied. “And he’s pretty worried about the whole shooting an unarmed citizen in his old office thing.”

“Sorry,” she said. “If it’s any consolation, it wasn’t loaded. I don’t know how to use a gun.”

Mary felt like she was going to be sick. She rested against one of the bookcases and then slid to the ground and put her head between her knees. “Just give me a second, okay?”

Dorothy hurried over to her. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I could get you to confess.”

“Yeah, it would have been a good plan if I had been the murderer,” she said, taking slow even breaths.

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes,” Mary said, “It’s just a delayed reaction. Getting shot and killed does that to you sometimes.”

She looked up at Sam who was grinning.
“Oh, good, a ghost with a warped sense of humor.”

“Sam is really here, in this room?” Dorothy asked.

“Yes, he’s standing behind you.”

Dorothy turned around. “Sam,
it’s
Dorothy.”

She turned back to Mary. “Can he see me?”

Mary swallowed a smile. “Yes, he can see you, you just can’t see him,” she explained.

“How do I look?” Dorothy whispered to Mary as she patted her hair.

“Good,” Mary said, wondering if this could really be happening to her. “You look fine.”

Dorothy smiled. “Thanks.”

Sam was chuckling. “She is a nice woman, Mary. And she means well, but she’s not very bright.”

“Sam said that he always thought you were a nice woman,” Mary said.

Dorothy smiled. “I miss you Sam, I miss our talks and our lunches. I miss seeing you every day.”

“I miss you too, Dorothy. You were a good friend when I needed one,” he said.

“He said he misses you too,” Mary said.

“You’re not telling her everything,” Sam said. “I didn’t love her. I loved my wife.”

Dorothy wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Oh, Sam, I thought my world ended when you died. You don’t know how emotionally damaging it was to find you like that.”

“Emotionally damaging? Did she think I did it on purpose?” Sam asked.

“Sam understands Dorothy.”

“I don’t blame you, Sam.”

“Well, damn, that’s big of her,” he grumbled.

Mary bit back a grin. “He’s very glad you don’t blame him.”

“Of course, it was quite inconvenient,” Dorothy added.

“Yeah, so is dying,” Sam yelled into Dorothy’s ear.

Dorothy pressed her hand to her ear, wonder spread over her face. “I felt him. I felt him whisper in my ear,” she said. “I’m sure he was telling me he loved me.”

Mary smiled. “That’s wonderful, Dorothy.”

“I did not just tell her I loved her,” Sam growled. “Damn fool woman. She made a good casserole. Damn good casserole. I love good home cooking.”

“Sam says he loved your cooking.”