PENITENCE: An Andi Comstock Supernatural Mystery, Book 2 (95,893 words) (3 page)

“He will be when he returns from Iowa. He’s on an extradition.”

Still the ME vacillated. Finally, he said, “Naylor was in good health except for the clot. He was fit, didn’t smoke, drank occasionally.”

“No other medical ailments, then.”

“No. Still awaiting tox reports, but as you know, those will take a couple of weeks.”

“But your expert opinion is that the aneurism killed him.”

“Yes.” A telling pause ensued. “Are you suggesting he was murdered, Riley?”

“No.” This time, the priest paused. “You’re not on speaker, are you?”

“No, and you know I’ll keep what you tell me confidential.”

“He’s spoken with Andi. Apparently, he did something bad while he was alive and he wants to fix it.”

The ME’s whistle was followed by a pause. “Man, that’s a bitch, ain’t it?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Riley said. “I’ll keep you informed, if I learn anything more.”

“You do that. Good God, man, you do realize what this means?”

“I do,” the priest said, his tone somber. “If we can figure it out, the man may be able to make things right before he reports to Saint Peter. Talk to you soon.” He disconnected. “Not much there to go on.”

“No.” She pulled out her journal and read Clement Naylor’s few statements aloud.

Father Riley took another healthy drink from his beer. “Let’s make a list of things he might have done to someone that were so bad he’d like to reverse it and atone for his error in judgment.”

Andi pulled out a small spiral pad from her purse, along with a pen. “I can think of three things right off the top of my head. Something financial. Something illegal. Something stupid.”

“Number three goes without saying,” Father Riley said, his tone wry, “and pretty much covers every wrongdoing we could conceivably come up with.”

“True.” Andi nibbled on her pen. She drew a line through
stupid
, then ripped out the page and started over again, putting each possibility in its own little box.

“Add ‘lie,’” Riley said, “and ‘cheat.’”

“Also ‘steal.’”

They began to munch chips and salsa while they considered other things the bad boy could have done, then went back and started listing subheads, like
stock market
or
land deals
or
drugs
under the appropriate heading.

“We’ve forgotten one all-important possibility,” the priest said.

And looked up from the notebook. “I’m afraid I know exactly what you’re going to say.” The numbers 1, 8, and 7 popped into her brain. In copspeak, 187 meant homicide, which could ultimately mean murder.

Father Riley shrugged and spelled it out for her, literally. “M-u-r-d-e-r.”

Like that made it any less palatable of a choice. “I was hoping I was wrong.”

“Has to be considered.”

“I know,” she said, printing
MURDER
on its own separate page. “I feel like Indiana Jones. Murder. Why’d it have to be murder?”

“We don’t know that it is,” Father Riley said.

Andi shot him a droll look.

“Okay, it probably is. Let’s make a list of who it might be and why he’s worried about it now that he’s not here to do the killing.”

“That’s the paradox, isn’t it?”

He nodded, his expression serious, even though his eyes twinkled. “Or, as some might say, a riddle, wrapped in a
mystery
,
inside an
enigma.”

Andi feigned relief. “Oh, that makes me feel
so
much better!”

“At least we know the gender.”

“True.”

“Maybe that will help us narrow down possible victims.”

“His wife has to be at the top of the list.”

“I fear that’s true.”

Andi smiled at him. “I knew I came to the right person to discuss this.”

The priest flashed her a quick grin, wiggling his eyebrows. “I aim to please.” The oven timer sounded. Riley pushed away from the table. “To be continued after we eat. The fortification from food will increase our brain power.”

Andi rolled her eyes. “If only.”

Usually, Andi didn’
t
have trouble sleeping, but on this night, mulling over the what-if possibilities she and Father Riley had compiled, her brain simply wouldn’t shut down.

If only Jack
had
called, even though his flight had arrived at a late hour in Iowa.

Instead of nodding off in her nice warm bed, she sat at her desk, cozying up with Google. After hours of researching Clement Naylor, she hadn’t come up with a single piece of dirt on him. He was, as they say, squeaky clean. Not only had he served on the boards of many altruistic organizations, but he’d also spearheaded numerous fundraisers for charities and various medical research endeavors. His other sterling qualities included coaching his eight-year-old son’s soccer and basketball teams. He attended a local Episcopal church and taught a basic real estate exam-preparatory class at the local community college.

When did he sleep? When did he have time to go to work? When did he have time to spend with his family? When did he eat, for crying out loud?

Finally, at six a.m. she gave up looking. With less than four hours of sleep to carry her through the day, she showered and dressed. In anticipation of the Smokie’s forecast for snow, she donned boots, wool slacks, and a heavy Nordic sweater and arrived for work an hour early.

The first smoke of the day came around eight-thirty, which told Andi that Chapel of the Garden had a busy schedule ahead. The voice that accompanied the smoky scent said,
Andi, child, you are so lucky. What I wouldn’t give to go outside and walk in the snow just one more time.

Andi’s gaze flew northward. She’d been so engrossed in work, she hadn’t noticed the quarter-size flakes falling like giant confetti outside her window. The top of the cinder-block wall already had an inch of accumulation. Who needed the weatherman when you had Smokies predicting the weather? Because she’d banked on the Smokie being right, she’d be able to take a walk in the snow on her lunch hour. “I’ll think of you while I’m out there,” she promised.

Thank you, dearest, and enjoy yourself.
The voice chuckled.
I just realized, I’ll never be cold again. The light here is so lovely, so warm….

Suddenly feeling revitalized, Andi literally zoomed through to the finish line for White Rabbit. Every aspect of her ideas for the chapter came together perfectly. It ran so well, in fact, she sent it to Quality Assurance for testing two days early. She emailed Brent, advising him of the status. He wrote back immediately.

Still loving your rabbit names for the game chapters! :)  Keep up the good work.

Andi sent him back a thumb’s-up icon.

Now on to Chapter Eleven. She’d been wanting to take the game in a new direction, and with it’s whimsical Bunnicula moniker, this would be it. With any luck, Brent, Orion, and the rest of the team would like it, too. Her intent was to keep player interest piqued with a vampire bunny. Bunnicula would avert boredom and offer new challenges. Fingers crossed, the fanged rabbit wouldn’t let her down.

She didn’t get one line of coding written before the day’s Smokie number two stopped by.
I’ve always hated the snow, Andi. Don’t like shoveling it or driving in it, though it is pretty to look at. You be careful out there, okay?

“I will,” she said, and just like that, he and his smoke were gone. Somewhat bemused by the differences between the two Smokies and how they felt about snow, she soldiered on with her work.

She took a lunch break at Soup Nation, where she indulged in a cranberry–walnut mixed greens salad. Jack phoned as she was wending her way back to work.

“Bad news,” he said after they exchanged greetings. “Another prisoner tried to make my guy his girlfriend this morning and they beat the shit out of each other. He’s in the hospital, where they plan to keep him for two days. My LT wants me to stay put rather than make a trip back, so it looks like I won’t be home until Sunday.”

“That sucks. What are you going to do while you wait? Hey, where are you, exactly?”

“Dubuque, and there are all kinds of exciting possibilities.”

“Such as?”

“The farm where they made
Field of Dreams
is about a thirty-minute drive from here. I heard it looks the same now as it did in the movie.”

“That ought to take up a day,” Andi agreed with some amusement. “Will Shoeless Joe Jackson be there?”

“Probably not. That kind of stuff only happens to you and Kevin Costner. I could also take a riverboat cruise on the Mississippi.”

“That sounds like fun.”

“Or, I could drive over to see Lake Michigan.”

“Isn’t it snowing there?”

“Not at the moment, but there is snow on the ground. Maybe I’ll go see a movie or find a bookstore, instead.”

“More likely, you’ll be hanging out at the local PD to see how they do things.”

Jack laughed. “You know me too well.”

“Call me later, okay? I’ll give you a weather report on our snow accumulation.”

“I’m missing snow there, but they’re expecting more here! Go figure…hold on a sec.”

She could hear him talking to someone, but couldn’t make out the words.

“Guess this dickwad didn’t like his dose of reality. They’re telling me he’s asking to see me as soon as the doc okays visitors, which should be right around dinner time.”

“Hope you like hospital food.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Just practical. Don’t forget to eat.”

“Yes, ma’am, and back at’cha.”

“Miss you.”

“Me, too. Talk to you later, babe.”

Andi disconnected, enjoying the last half block until she reached the Belt building. Feeling reinvigorated from her snowy trek and her chat with Jack, she was ready to tackle more new code.

Inside, she went back to work until the
third smoke of the day occurred around one-thirty.

Andi, dear, I will never understand what it is you do that results in computer games, but I know someone who loves them. You be sure and let him know about Wild Hare, will you? His name is Connor Fredericks and he lives at 12ll Wilson Avenue.

Andi grabbed her journal. “Wait! What’s your name?”

Winnie Fredericks. I’m his grandma. You’ll be sure and tell him I sent my love, won’t you? Thank you, dear heart.

“I will.” She recorded what Winnie had said and made a note of Connor’s name and address at the back of the journal, where she recorded special requests. When it came available, she’d send him a complimentary copy of the game, along with a gift card enclosure from Grandma Winnie. With any luck, it wouldn’t freak him out.

At four o’clock, a heavy smoke permeated the air. Andi was pretty sure that no cremations were scheduled that late in the day, so it could only be Clem Naylor come to call again. Normally, she let the Smokies speak first, but Naylor seemed so reticent, she decided to forego her normal wait-and-see-what-they-say method. Time to take action. “Hi, Clem. Please tell me how I can help you.”

Something strange began to happen. Andi couldn’t tell if the sensations were real or Memorex, but she got the impression of the smoky air around her swirling madly, as if she were in the middle of a cyclone. Just as suddenly, it grew calm. The entire short-lived episode rattled her. She’d never experienced anything like it in any other encounter with a Smokie and she didn’t know what to make of it.

I did something bad, Andi, and I don’t know how to fix it.

“When I don’t know how to fix something, I talk it over with someone.”

You don’t always. You couldn’t figure out how to fix your White Rabbit chapter, but you kept working on it until it came out the way you wanted it.

“That’s different. I don’t really have anyone to discuss my game ideas with.”

Not true. You have a building full of co-workers and some of them write game apps just like you do.

He had her there. “I guess you’re right. I’ll restate myself. When I don’t know how to fix something outside of work, I
usually
talk it over with someone.”

That’s better and I agree. Talking things over usually helps.
He sighed and when she heard him again, his voice was emotional, like he might cry.
I should have talked things over with her instead of suspecting the worst.

“Her who, Denise?”

You’ve been busy.

“I guess I was curious about who you were and how I might help.”

Were. I am past tense now, aren’t I? Find out anything bad about me?

“No.”

You were looking in the wrong places. I’m the worst kind of man.

“I can’t comment, since I still don’t know what you did that was so awful.”

The scent of smoke became so overpowering, Andi thought she might have to leave the building and cross the street to get away from it. What was going on?

Denise and I were married for almost thirteen years. We never intended to have children, or at least I didn’t. For four years, that worked out great, then Christian came along and I…I had no idea how I would feel when I had a kid. He was a little miracle and I loved him so much, I thought my heart would burst from it. Two years later, we had Aria. I didn’t think I had enough space in my heart to love another child, but I was so wrong.

“I don’t have any children, but I understand what you’re saying.”

The funny thing is, my love for Denise grew stronger, as well. That’s why it destroyed me when….

“When what?”

His voice broke.
When she had the affair.

“I’m sorry, Clem. I didn’t know.”

Don’t be sorry for me, Andi. Be sorry for Denise. I was mistaken. She wasn’t having an affair, but I didn’t know it until I died. She was taking an oil painting class. Portraiture. She was painting a portrait of our family to gift me on my birthday, which is in February.

Andi found his statement odd, and not in a good way. With that realization came another—it was more ominous than odd. A prickly sensation ran up her arms. “I don’t understand. Why should I feel sorry for Denise?”

Because…I thought she was having an affair and I…oh, dear God, Father in Heaven, please forgive me!

“Clem?”

I put a contract out on my beautiful Denise, Andi. I hired someone to kill her.

Just like that, the smoke vanished.

Andi called Clem’s name repeatedly, in vain.

Lacey stuck her head around Andi’s partially opened door. “Everything okay? Who’s Clem?”

Andi improvised, thankful she had a quick mind. “You know, I heard that Bobby Darin song ‘Clementine’ earlier on the radio and I just can’t seem to get it out of my head.”

Lacey laughed. “I’ve had that happen. It drives me nuts!”

“I know, right?”

“Hey, we’re going over to Java Josie’s for hot chocolate. Wanna come?”

Still rattled by Clem’s admission, Andi vacillated. Maybe getting out of the building, if not off the block, would be good for her, even though it was only an hour until quitting time. “Sure. That’s sounds yummy.”

Downstairs, Ted, Sue, and Rico waited with coats on. Rico took one look at Andi, scowled, and said he’d forgotten something he had to take care of on the game he was coding. Andi couldn’t imagine what was so urgent it couldn’t wait fifteen minutes, but didn’t ask. She was starting to wonder if she’d done something that displeased him.

. . .

Andi didn’t want to bother Father Riley during his dinner hour again, so when she called this time, she asked if he’d be free later in the evening. “I’d like to be free right now. I haven’t got any power over here. How about you?”

St. Gemma’s was only a block away from the Belt. “We’re good.”

“You’re lucky, then. Some idiot apparently couldn’t tell it was snowing. He came off the bridge too fast and slid into a power pole. I can see lights on across the street to the south of us, so it must have knocked out everything from Eleventh north to Seventh.”

It always cracked Andi up when the priest talked like everyone else she knew. “Yikes. Well, what if we go out for dinner somewhere? My treat.”

“I’d like that, but you don’t have to treat.”

“But—”

“No buts, young lady. Let’s go somewhere close. I’d like to get out and walk. I’ve been cooped up all day dealing with parish issues. I could use some fresh air.”

He mumbled something more about
damnedable parish politics
, but Andi couldn’t quite make it out. She only knew it must have been unpleasant for him to resort to profanities. “Want to go to Trattoria d’Italia? I can meet you there in half-an-hour.”

“Sounds perfect. I can tell from your voice that you have something big to tell me.”

“Boy, do I,” Andi said. “Really big. See you soon.”

After she signed off, she called up the browser on her iPhone and plugged in
hire contract killer
.