Junkyard Man Page 8

  “That was when the Millers were selling and the city had slapped Harry Peter with a code violation. Will thought between that and the guy’s age that he’d either move or die within the year. And their place was priced accordingly. Kat makes good money, but neither of them had a big down payment. That house was a bit of a stretch for them as it was.” She shrugged. “They took a gamble that Harry Peter would be gone and his yard and home fixed up before they either got ready to sell or Will went too crazy staring at it each day. Him losing his job and starting the inn just pushed the timetable forward.”

  And upped the stress. “You sure you want to cross him off of our suspect list? Sounds like he had motive, and if he’s the hot-tempered type…”

  Daisy rolled her eyes. “Not that kind of hot-tempered, though. I could see him getting mad and throwing something that accidently knocked old man Peter’s brains out, but not running him through with a sword. Although if Harry made him really, really mad, then who knows.” She sipped her coffee. “I think Kat’s going to leave if Will doesn’t settle the heck down. It’s not just the money thing. She loves him, but he’s driving her crazy obsessing over the inn. Having their house as a business? Having him home all day, hounding her about keeping the house perfect, wanting her to bake muffins for the guests and crochet doilies as gifts…I give her two months and she’ll be stuffing suitcases in the car and heading to her sister’s.”

  So Will definitely had a motive. He’d never admit that it was him driving Kat away. No, he’d blame the money. And the solution to the money issue was to make the inn profitable. And the solution to that was getting their hoarder neighbor to clean up at least the front and backyards.

  “Okay, I’m leaving Will on the list. How about the nephew?”

  “Bert Peter? I guess. I think he loved his uncle at one time, but five years ago the old guy threw a toaster at him. Poor guy had to get stitches on Christmas Eve. Bert, I mean, not Harry.”

  “Christmas Eve?”

  “Yeah. From what I could hear, and trust me, the whole neighborhood could hear. I’m surprised you weren’t privy to this one. Anyway, Bert had come to take his uncle out to midnight Mass, which is a nice thing to do. But Old Man Peter decided that Bert was trying to lure him out of the house so he could sneak in and steal some fancy-pants stuff he had in the back room or the basement or something.”

  Yikes. “It seems like a stretch to stab an uncle for throwing a toaster at you five years ago, though.”

  Daisy nodded. “Yeah, but Bert’s all he’s got, I mean had. Harry dies and Bert gets everything, including the fancy-pants stuff in the basement. I don’t know how much that stuff is worth, but the house is paid off, and judging from the UPS deliveries every day, I’m thinking the old guy had one heck of a savings account.”

  I thought for a second. “Okay, then why stab him with a sword? Why not just dump a bunch of his blood pressure meds in his coffee, or replace them with NoDoz or something? And the sword through the box seems kind of emotional, not a cold-blooded murder for inheritance.”

  “Maybe the UPS guy killed him because he’s sick of hauling heavy boxes of junk through a maze of old washing machines.” Daisy wiggled her eyebrows as if she’d just solved the crime.

  “Maybe Harry Peter was single-handedly keeping the UPS guy in business,” I countered.

  “Maybe it was the meter-reading guy.”

  “Maybe it was Miss Scarlet in the library with a candlestick.”

  “Or Colonel Mustard. I always thought he had a shifty-eyed look about him.”

  I slugged down the rest of my coffee. “I hate to kick you out, but I need to get going if I’m going to make the ten o’clock service. Wanna come to church with me?”

  Daisy shuddered. “Are you kidding? Naked in the middle of a forest, that’s how I worship. Say a prayer for my soul, okay?”

  “I always do. And don’t forget your film debut tomorrow. J.T. is expecting you at the office bright and early to play your part.”

  I’d been checking up on my boss’s YouTube video over the weekend, watching it over and over to boost the views. Surprisingly, it had a few hundred followers, although most of them were probably local police and friends he’d cornered into being extras. I wasn’t sure why Daisy had accepted the invitation. She was normally pretty good at saying ‘no’ in a voice that brooked no argument. Instead she’d seemed flattered, as if J.T. hadn’t asked half the town to play a part in his dramatic reenactments. Maybe my friend harbored secret dreams of making it big in Hollywood.

  Daisy finished her coffee and I escorted her to the door, just so I could hold Taco while she left. I no longer had to worry about Mr. Peter feeding him chicken sandwiches, but I was oddly reluctant to let the cat out of my house.

  He’d been in my neighbor’s home at the scene of a murder. I just wanted him safe in my house, safe in my arms. As Madison had done last night, I cuddled him up to my face, feeling him purr as I watched Daisy walk down the sidewalk.

  I was safe in my house, relaxed after yoga, energized from the coffee, feeling loved after spending the early morning hours with Daisy, and comforted by Taco’s soft fur and the knowledge that upstairs slept Judge Beck, Madison, and Henry. My family, whether they knew it or not.

  Chapter 10

  I’d been so tempted to just stay home and read or knit while sitting in the garden, but by the time the church bells rang at noon, and we’d all filtered out of the sanctuary, I was glad I’d showered, put on a dress, and hauled myself to the ten o’clock service.

  Reverend Lincoln shook my hand and I waited out in the foyer for him to finish speaking to each of the parishioners as they left the service. When it was clear things had quieted down, I approached him with an apologetic smile.

  “Do you have a moment, Reverend? I was hoping I could speak to you.”

  He turned to his assistant minister and asked him to finish up, then ushered me down the hall into his office. I sat, and instead of sitting on the other side of the desk, he eased himself down into the chair beside me.

  “How are you doing, Kay?” He took one of my hands and gave it a quick squeeze.

  I knew exactly what he meant. This had been Eli’s and my church, although we hadn’t attended more than three or four times a year. When my husband had died, Reverend Lincoln had delivered a beautiful service and eulogy. Just thinking about it brought tears to my eyes. It was probably one of the reasons I hadn’t been to church since the funeral. Being here, seeing the minister, just brought that day all back to my mind. Fresh. As if Eli had taken his last breath in my arms all over again.

  “There are days where I think I’m fine, where I feel the sunshine on my face and look at my cat and am glad to be alive. And there are days…well, there are days when I’m not doing so well. I have roommates now. They help.”

  He smiled. “Judge Beck and his two children. I was so glad to hear that you were able to work things out. Being able to keep your home, having close friends to ease you through this time of transition, it’s all important.”

  I nodded, not sure how to approach the topic I wanted to discuss, so instead I skirted around it. “I’m worried that I’ve started thinking of Judge Beck and his kids as family. My parents have passed away and so have Eli’s. We were only children and had no children of our own. I’m scared that with his loss, I’m latching onto a substitute family, and that it’s inappropriate. I’m their landlord, their roommate. I know that Judge Beck considers me as a sort of friend, and Madison and Henry think of me as an honorary aunt or grandma or something, but when his divorce is final, he’ll leave. And in two years, Madison will graduate high school and leave. They’ll all leave and it’s going to break my heart because in the next two years I’m going to become even more attached to them. I can’t help it.”

  “That happens even with family, Kay. I can’t tell you how many of my flock I’ve consoled when their children have gone off to college, or have gotten married and moved away. By the time they’re in their seve
nties, they’re lucky if they get a call on major holidays and a visit once per week.”

  “That isn’t making me feel any better,” I told him.

  He laughed. “What I mean is that you can’t hold back from connecting with people, from forming meaningful relationships and attachments out of fear that one day they might drift away. If this happens even with children and parents, then there’s a risk it will happen with friendships and honorary relative relationships.”

  I tried to take his words to heart. “But who will I have then?”

  “Did you have Judge Beck and his children three months ago? No. You’ll continue to develop new attachments to different people as times goes on, Kay. If you’re lucky, there will be people who are there for you throughout the majority of your life, but you need to trust that God will send you who you need, that if one person leaves your life, he’ll give you someone to fill that emotional gap. Trust in your faith, trust in the Lord to not leave you lonely.”

  I thought of Daisy who had stood by me for so long. Then I thought of Mr. Peter across the street, who’d obviously been lonely and feeling a loss of self-worth. Where had God been for him? But he’d thrown a toaster at his nephew. Maybe he hadn’t been willing to accept those that God sent him.

  And there was me. And Taco. I remembered how happy Mr. Peter had been holding my cat, calling him Taco-schmacko and spoiling him with bits of chicken sandwiches. I remembered his excitement when I brought the pitcher by. How his eyes had lit up at the thought of fixing up an antique toaster and mixer for me. Maybe right there at the end, Mr. Peter had felt that sense of friendship, of comradery that he’d denied himself for years—maybe even decades.

  “I’ll try,” I told Reverend Lincoln. “I’ll try, but I’m scared.”

  “Of course you’re scared. I’d be surprised if you weren’t. Ten years ago, your life was turned upside down when Eli had that accident. Honestly, Kay, I don’t think you’ve ever really recovered from that blow… You just threw yourself into Eli’s care and never truly grieved or came to terms with how that accident changed your life as well as his. Then after all those years of burying your feelings and emotions, Eli passes away and suddenly you’re faced with it all. It’s like grieving in double-time. I know you’re scared, but from my vantage point, you’re handling it remarkably well. You’re finally able to grieve, and you’re using your support network and making new friends and close relationships to help you weather the storm. I’m here for you, Kay. I know you’re not someone who likes to attend service every Sunday, but I’m here for you during the week as well.”

  This was making me feel better—it was making me feel strong enough to broach the topic that had brought me to church today.

  “I see ghosts. Is that a problem? Because I think the main ghost I’m seeing is Eli, but I see other ghosts. I’ve discovered two murder victims in the last three months and each time I’ve seen ghosts. My ophthalmologist at first thought it was floaters from my cataract surgery, but this last appointment he recommended I talk to you or to a grief therapist.”

  My minster stared at me, obviously struggling to process what I’d just said. “Floaters. So, you’re seeing blurry round shadows as an optical condition?”

  “No. These are shadows. They’re humanoid in shape and always in the corner of my vision. I can’t quite focus on them but I can see them and in the last few months, they’ve become more distinct. There’s one that is around mostly in the evenings, especially in my house although he’s sometimes with me while I’m out shopping or at work. That’s the one I think might be Eli’s ghost. But the other two…they appeared when I discovered the murder victims.”

  “Kay, I truly think that grief and loneliness can bring a person to imagine their lost loved one as being present. That’s normal and, in time, these imaginings will lessen. As for the other two…well, I think that shock can sometimes bring the mind to see things that aren’t there.”

  He didn’t believe me. Well, he believed me, but thought it was part of processing my grief and shock. If he’d experienced what I had on a daily basis, then maybe he’d have something different in mind than “it’s normal”.

  “But with the one murder victim, I saw the ghost before I discovered the body. Before I even had the idea that there could be a body.”

  He thought for a moment. “Describe when you saw the first ghost.”

  I thought back to when I’d found Caryn Swanson’s body. I’d been returning to my car in the parking lot of MegaMart. “I always park way in the back section, so I can get a little exercise in going to and from the store. There was this sudden patch of cold. The sky seemed to dim. Then I saw the ghost. After the ghost vanished, I saw a shoe by the edge of the parking area where a hill led down to a draining ditch and the highway. That’s where the body was.”

  He nodded. “What if you saw the shoe, but hadn’t quite registered it yet? Your unconscious mind saw a woman’s shoe and thought the worst because you yourself had just suffered a loss and it was fresh in your mind?”

  “I guess so.” Maybe. I was sure I hadn’t seen the shoe before the ghost, but maybe he was right.

  “And the second one?”

  “Taco had made a habit of visiting the guy across the street. He’s elderly and a hoarder and he would feed him. Taco snuck out one night and I went to get him, but no one answered the door and I heard my cat inside, so I let myself in. I saw the ghost right after I went into the kitchen and discovered his body.”

  The minister smiled and patted my hand. “Weren’t you worried? He was elderly. He hadn’t answered the door when you knocked. I doubt you would have just walked into his house if you hadn’t been worried that something had happened to him. Again, your concern thought of the worst. And since you’d lost Eli and a few months earlier had discovered a murder victim, you immediately imagined the worst. And that imagination manifested as what you think of as a ghost. Kay, this is completely normal. You have experienced three deaths in four months. It’s going to be the first thing that comes to your mind for some time. It’s going to be your worst-case-scenario for a while.”

  Maybe he was right. “So you don’t believe in ghosts? Or you just don’t think that what I’m experiencing are ghosts but something else entirely?”

  He thought for a moment. “Our souls leave this world when we die. Ghosts are manifestations of our grief or fear or guilt. They’re the product of strong emotion, but they have nothing to do with the person who has died. The ghost at your house isn’t Eli’s spirit. It’s just your way of processing his loss.”

  I sighed, not sure whether his words were a relief or whether I’d be happier to know what I was experiencing was a spirit. I didn’t want to tie Eli to this world, but I did miss him, and I did feel that there was a lot of unfinished business in our relationship. But perhaps that was why my mind was conjuring a shadow.

  “So what should I do? How do you recommend I deal with these…ghosts, for want of a better term?”

  “I think whenever you see one, especially the one that you identify as Eli, you need to examine your emotions at the time, as well as the situation. Were you doing something that reminded you of your husband, that you used to do together? Were you feeling vulnerable or lonely, or wishing for his company, advice, or comfort? Once you’ve identified that, just let yourself feel. Miss him. Feel the ache of his loss in your life. Remember that there are others who can give you company, advice, and comfort in his stead. They’ll never replace him, but you don’t need to be empty without him.”

  Let myself grieve. It was hard. I felt like I’d be grieving forever, like I’d never recover from Eli’s death. And Reverend Lincoln was right. I’d not been able to really deal with the turmoil of the accident, so I was grieving double.

  It was so painful that sometimes I worried that if I let myself go, if I allowed myself to truly face what I’d lost, that I’d never recover. I could only take grief in little bits at a time. Maybe that meant it would take me longer to heal than
others, maybe that’s was why I saw these ‘ghosts’, but it was better than falling down into a well so deep that I’d never be able to climb up again.

  I stood and Reverend Lincoln did the same, giving me a quick hug. “Be gentle with yourself, Kay. And remember, family is anyone who loves you. And you, my dear, are very, very loved.”

  Chapter 11

  I eyed Henry’s ice cream, most of which was surrounding his mouth like a chocolate beard and mustache. He’d insisted on the extra-large cone, and was struggling to keep pace with the melting—struggling and failing.

  “Dork. I told you to get it in a cup,” Madison told him. She’d chosen a banana split and was trying to chop up the banana so that she could get a tiny sliver in each bite.

  “Miss Kay is going to make you hose off outside before you go in the house,” Judge Beck teased his son. He’d been reluctant to order anything for himself, but the kids badgered him until he got a butterscotch sundae with nuts and whipped cream.

  Myself, I was more of a hot fudge woman. As in extra hot fudge. I think I would have been happy if they had just filled the cup with hot fudge and foregone the ice cream, but I needed to at least make an attempt to appear civilized. No cherry. No whipped cream. No nuts. Just a gallon of hot fudge on my creamy-smooth soft serve vanilla ice cream.

  “Forget the hose, I’ll just toss you in the hot tub,” I told Henry.

  “Ewww.” Madison wrinkled her nose. “That’s disgusting. He’ll make the water dirty with his all that ice cream.”

  There were enough chemicals in there to take care of any health-related concerns, but I noticed that Henry seemed to not be hearing either his father’s teasing, or mine and Madison’s comments. I turned and followed his gaze across the parking lot, wondering what had captured his attention. We were eating at the open-air metal benches outside of the Tastee Cone which was opposite a shopping center. Henry was either staring at the grocery store, the liquor store, any number of spiffy cars that were assembled in an impromptu car show at the edge of the lot, or the people milling about the impromptu car show.