Roses Are Red; He's Dead (A Mellow Summers Paranormal Mystery Book 9) (6 page)

“Oh, but you managed to bring your boyfriend,” exclaimed Aimie.

“Yeah, well,” I replied, “I had to promise to do something he loves later on today.”

“Oh, like what?” asked Aimie.

“Stargazing,” said Greg, before I could respond.

“You don’t like looking at the stars?” asked Aimie.

“Normally I do,” I said, “but in the summer, when it’s warmer.”

“I’m sure there is a way you two can keep warm tonight, while staring at the stars,” Aimie said, with a wink.

“Stop talking to me like that you old crone!”

We all turned towards the harsh voice behind us. It belonged to a man, who looked to be in his 60s, as he continued to berate his wife.

“Don’t you call me an old crone you flabby old fart. You know, a few sit-ups, and a little less beer, wouldn’t hurt you!” His wife put her hands on her hips, daring him to respond with a snappy comeback.

“One of these days, I am going to—”

“Oh, you’ve been saying that since the day I married your sorry butt.”

We watched the two as they continued to berate one another. “Who are they?” I finally asked.

“Morgan and Burt,” laughed Aimie. “The old, married couple around here. I overheard Emily congratulating them on their 35th year of marriage. Hard to believe, right?”

“Hello, everybody,” said a female voice as the instructor arrived.

We all took our places, spreading out our mats.

“I know that it is a bit chilly this morning, but I think we will be okay,” the instructor continued. “I want everyone to stand with their hands pressed together out in front of you, with your feet together. Breathe in slowly and exhale.”

I glanced around as the people around me followed the instructions, each had their eyes closed, while meditating. Aimie seemed to be enjoying herself. Chad walked past the yoga group. Unable to stop myself, I allowed my gaze to follow him, wondering where he was going, but that was the least of my worries. A broken tree branch followed after him. I watched in astonishment as it floated after Chad, who remained unaware of the danger that trailed after him.

“Billy,” I whispered to myself.

I couldn’t see Billy—he was remaining invisible—but knew that he was the one with the tree branch. Why else, would a piece of wood be following after Chad?

While the others in the yoga class prepared for the downward dog pose, I bolted for the hovering tree branch. My shoes made squishy noises as I ran through the class, knocking a few of the attendees over in the process, focused on stopping Billy from whatever it was he planned to do. The broken tree branch raised higher into the air. My shoe caught on a mat just as I reached the edge of the cleared area and I stumbled forward, grabbing onto the hovering branch to stop myself from falling. My sudden impact forced the branch away from Chad.

Billy jerked the branch away from me, but I held on, tightening my grip. I tugged it away from him. In retaliation, Billy yanked hard, trying to hit Chad with the branch. I refused to let go. I planted my feet into the snow and leaned back, doing my best to maintain my balance as Billy jerked the branch in every direction in his attempt to free it from my grasp.

“Let me at him!” Billy yelled at me.

I refused. As splinters from the branch’s bark dug into my skin, I gripped it harder, giving one last yank. Billy let go. I fell backward, landing on my rump with the snow forming a mound around me.

“I’ll get him, yet!” shouted Billy, but only I heard him, thank goodness.

I dropped the branch. As I rose to my feet, brushing the snow off of me, I noticed the confused faces staring at me. “Uh…” I began.

“Mel, that was amazing!” said Greg as he ran up to me, giving me a hug. “Though I don’t think this was the appropriate time for a spectacle, but those mime classes have really paid off.”

“Mime classes?” I said to him, wondering what he was talking about.

“Just go with it,” Greg whispered in my ear.

“What is going on here?” asked someone.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” began Greg, “but Mel has been learning how to be a mime and I guess she wanted to give us a show.”

“That was interesting,” Chad said before leaving.

“That was awesome!” said Aimie. “I almost believed that you were really struggling with someone.”

“Thanks,” I said, still catching my breath.

Judging by the looks on the faces surrounding me, I could tell that only half of them believed Greg’s story.

“All right,” said the instructor, irritated at having her class interrupted, “time to move into child’s pose.”

Greg helped me back to my mat. The rest of the yoga class went smoothly, but I kept a wary eye out for Billy, in case he decided to show up again.

After the morning yoga session, Greg and I decided to go get something to eat. I was famished. We went back to the restaurant. We walked into the crowded area, with its tables, made just for two people, spaced around the area, each with a tiny lamp in the center.

“Welcome,” said the host. “This way please.”

Greg and I followed the man. At first, I was curious as to why he didn’t ask how many needed to be seated, before remembering that this was a couples retreat; and what couple wants a third party along?

Our waiter showed up. “Anything to drink?” he asked.

“Two coffees, please,” I replied, before realizing that he was the same waiter who had served us last night. “Matherson,” I read the nametag. “Is that a first or last name?”

“Oh, sorry,” said our waiter. He recognized us. “It’s you two.”

“We can go, if it’s a problem,” said Greg, getting ready to stand up.

“No, it’s quite all right,” said Matherson. “Turns out, you were telling the truth last night. It’s my last name”—he pointed at his nametag—“I don’t use my first name much.”

“Oh? What is it?” I said, curious.

“Bernie.”

“I can see why you don’t like it,” Greg said.

“It is not Bernie.” Billy said, but only I heard him. “He doesn’t look like a Bernie.”

“Uh, I think we’re ready to order,” I said, trying to ignore Billy’s comments.

Greg gave me a questioning look, but my glance told him that we needed to get rid of the waiter ASAP.

“Sure,” Matherson held out his notepad.

“I mean, does he come across to you as a Bernie?” Billy continued.

“We’ll both have waffles, with bacon,” I told our waiter, “but I’d like mine with your peach sauce.”

“Peach sauce?” exclaimed Billy. “That stuff will ruin your waffles.”

I cringed, wishing that Billy would disappear. “Go away!” I hissed at him from the side of my mouth.

“What?” asked Matherson.

“Nothing,” I said. “Can we get some cream with our coffee, too?”

“Sure,” said our waiter.

“Fine,” snapped Billy. “I can tell when I’m not wanted.” He left.

“He was here again?” Greg asked after our waiter had gone.

“Yes,” I replied, “but I think he left again.”

“So, what do you want to do?”

“We need to find out if Chad really did kill Billy,” I said. “Maybe, when we’re finished here, you can learn a little more about Chad, and I’ll see about getting Billy to stop trying to exact revenge.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Our food arrived and we ate, not bothering to take our time as we both had things to do. Once done, we paid our check and left, running into Aimie and Patrick on the way out.

“Hey, you two,” greeted Aimie. “Getting a bite to eat?”

“We just finished,” I said, “but maybe later?”

“It’s a date!” said Patrick.

“Oh, you guys”—Matherson, our waiter, ran up to us with the money we had used to pay out check—“because of last night’s events, Emily has said that your meals here are free of charge. Sorry, I should have…”

He stopped speaking the moment he noticed Aimie and Patrick.

“Thanks,” said Greg, taking the bills from Matherson’s hand. “We really don’t mind…”

“It’s policy,” said Matherson, with a robotic note to his voice, his eyes still focused on Aimie and Patrick. I thought I had seen recognition in them, but before I could say anything, Matherson left with a quick, “Have a nice day.”

“What was that all about?” demanded Greg, confused. “He acted like he’d seen a ghost.” He looked at me and I gave a quick shake of the head, answering his unspoken question. Billy was nowhere to be found.

“Probably nothing,” said Patrick.

“We’ll definitely catch up with you later,” said Aimie, pushing Patrick along to a table.

We said our good-byes and left, walking out into the crisp air as it mingled with the warmth from a heating lamp.

“Okay, so we’re agreed,” I said. “You go find Chad and make sure Billy doesn’t try something, and I’ll see what I can find out around here.”

“Just be careful,” said Greg.

“You too.”

Chapter 5

With
a little bit of nosing around, I learned where Billy’s apartment was. He lived on the resort in a small, one-bedroom place in the basement of the main building. Being the janitor, Emily had decided that it was best if he lived there so that if his services were needed, he would be available.

I glanced around as I approached the warped door of his apartment, making certain that no one saw me go in there. Thanks to all of the time I had spent with Tiny and his friends, I managed to jimmy the lock, which wasn’t very secure to begin with, and slip inside, unnoticed. Darkness greeted me, except for a sliver of light that poked through the two foot, rectangular window. I felt for a light switch. The moment I had found it, I flipped it on.

I almost shrieked when I got a good look at Billy’s apartment. What a mess! Empty bags of chips and cereal boxes lay strewn all over the floor. No matter where I stepped, my foot crunched candy wrappers and dried, hard candies that had melted into the stained carpet. My foot caught on a wire that had tangled on the thin fibers of the carpet, tripping me. I reached out, grabbing the sides of a chair, the smooth and gritty material making me cringe. I looked at the chair. Gum, burrowed into the threads of the fabric, dotted it in a multicolored coat of spit and stickiness. I lifted my hands off the chair, wiping them on my pants in a poor attempt to clean them.

Plastic cups rattled against one another as I crept through the room. Where would I start? I didn’t know what I was searching for; I just knew that I had to find something that would tell me why Billy had been murdered. My hand brushed a pile of magazines, knocking them off of a nearby table, exposing a phone and answering machine. The number 4 flashed in red on the machine, indicating that there were messages.

I pressed the play button and listened to the four messages.

Message 1:

Hey, Billy! Where are you? I’ve been waiting here for 20 minutes.

Message 2:

Yes, Billy Randall, this is Tonia from the Heweitt Creditors. I am calling to inform you that you are past due on the payments of your account. Please call me at 800-693-9100, extension 301. If you fail to contact me by the 5th of March, legal action will be taken.

Message 3:

Billy, I’ve been waiting here for over an hour for you to show up. If you’re not here in five minutes, we’re through!

Message 4:

Uh… wrong number.

I frowned. Nothing there for me to go on. I turned and meandered further into the room, knocking over a table in the process. It crashed to the floor and I cringed, hoping that no one had heard that. Something small and red caught my eye and I reached down and picked it up.

“Look at what you’ve done!” Billy yelled, popping into the room. “I had this place organized.”

“Organized?” I replied. “You call this organized?”

“Well, what do you call it?” asked Billy.

“A disaster area.” I kicked an empty beer can across the room to further illustrate my point.

“It is not! What are you doing here anyway?”

“Trying to figure out who murdered you and why.”

“I already told you who did it.” Billy’s semi-transparent form turned red.

“But you said yourself that you never saw the person who struck you on the head,” I said, trying to reason with him.

“But I know it was Chad!”

“How? Why?”

“Because.. because… I don’t like him.”

“Okay,” I said.

“He has everything and…”

“That doesn’t mean that he killed you,” I interrupted him. “We need proof. Where were you when you died?”

“I was on the hiking trail that goes into town,” said Billy.

“What were you doing there?”

“Does it matter?”

“Please, just answer the question.”

“I was picking up garbage,” said Billy. “People are such slobs sometimes!”

I glanced around the biohazard area I stood in, known as Billy’s apartment. “Did you see anything?”