Cold Shadows: Ghost Whisperers of Portsmouth prequel by Lisa Bouchard

Author:Lisa Bouchard [Bouchard, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-14T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Thea

The door to Anderson’s Pub creaked open, casting a sliver of daylight across the dingy hardwood floors. I stepped inside, the heavy aroma of stale beer and cigarette smoke invading my nostrils. Delia scrunched her nose as she followed behind me, the door slamming shut and enveloping us in dim lighting.

Glasses clinked and idle chatter filled the space. A few patrons glanced up from their drinks as we made our way to the bar. I slid onto a stool, the cracked leather squeaking under me.

“What can I get you ladies?” the bartender asked, raising an eyebrow at our out-of-place presence.

“We’re here to speak with James Anderson,” I said. “Is he around?”

The bartender jerked his thumb toward a door in the back. “Office is back there. Knock first.”

I hopped off the stool, exchanging a look with Delia. She gave a subtle nod and we headed for the office door. My fist rapped against the wood, the sound echoing in the narrow hallway.

A gruff voice bid us enter. The door creaked open to reveal James sitting behind a cluttered desk, ledger open in front of him. His eyes gleamed at the sight of us.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” James said slowly, leaning back in his chair.

I crossed my arms. “We’re investigating Margaret Sinclair’s murder. We have reason to believe you may know something about what happened that night.”

James’ expression hardened, his jaw clenching. “I told the police everything I knew when it happened. Margaret was a friend, her death devastated me.”

My eyes bored into his, searching for any hint of deception. But his gaze remained steady, giving nothing away.

Delia circled the desk, trailing her fingers along the wood surface. “Funny, because our sources saw you arguing with her just prior to her death and claim you were out quite late the night Margaret was killed.” She paused, glancing at him sideways. “Almost like you were establishing an alibi.”

I tried not to smile. Our “sources” were the newspaper articles we’d read last night.

James’ composure finally broke. His eyes blazed with anger. “How dare you accuse me under my own roof,” he seethed through gritted teeth. “Get out!”

I grabbed Delia’s arm, leading her toward the door. As we left his office, I knew one thing for certain—James Anderson was hiding something about the night Margaret Sinclair was murdered. And we were going to find out what it was.

I hesitated at the doorway, glancing back at James. He had slumped in his chair, head in his hands. For a moment, he looked utterly defeated.

Delia tugged at my arm, urging me to leave. But something held me there. I let out a sigh.

“Look, we don’t actually think you killed Margaret,” I said. “But we know you’re not being completely honest either.”

James lifted his head, regarding me wearily. “You’re right. I didn’t kill her, but...” He trailed off, gaze distant.

I stepped back into the office, taking the seat opposite him. Delia hovered uncertainly near the door.

“But what?” I prompted.

James ran a hand over his face.

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