Dying for the Past (A Gumshoe Ghost Mystery) by O'Connor TJ

Author:O'Connor, TJ [O'Connor, TJ]
Language: eng
Format: azw
Tags: mystery, washington d.c., novel, police, soft-boiled, humorous, washington, paranormal, tucker, mystery novel, mystery fiction, washington dc
Publisher: Llewellyn Worldwide, LTD.
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

thirty-seven

After Professor Hahn left, Angel and I went home. I didn’t tell her about my encounter with Vincent earlier. Instead, I lied and told her I hadn’t found him. She had enough on her mind without wondering why he was threatening her—on top of some nut-case stalking her. I wanted to get things square with Doc first. That was impossible as Doc must have taken a vacation and disappeared for a while.

It bothered me that Doc lied. I asked him point-blank about Benjamin. Why didn’t he tell me it was him? What was he hiding? And why hide it from me?

I pondered this and many mysteries of the universe—not really—until Bear arrived a little after six in the evening. He wandered in, relaxed onto our couch like he owned the place, and laid back to take a nap.

Before my death, he was my partner and best friend—more than a guest in our home. Since then, he had become a more permanent fixture. While it wasn’t until today he admitted I was still around, he had been a rock for Angel for all facets of life without me.

Angel came in from the kitchen and handed him two-fingers of my best bourbon. She slipped into the over-sized chair opposite him and curled up. “Any luck, Bear? Did you find anything on Bonnie or Stephanos?”

“Not a darn thing.” He drained half the glass. “The FBI is blocking me every step of the way. They took the case away from me.”

“Can they do that?”

“They can and they did.” Another glug of bourbon. “But the stolen donations and your stalker are still my cases—and I’ll use them to my advantage. I’m meeting Spence over at the Vincent place in a little while. We’re going to stake the place out.”

“What for?”

He winked. “Coincidences.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in them.”

I said, “He doesn’t, Angel. That’s the point.”

Bear emptied his glass and went to the bottle on the fireplace mantel and refilled it. “The money was stolen and there’s another body out there somewhere, too.”

“The one Tuck saw?” she asked, gesturing at me sitting in the leather recliner beside her. “The one he says he killed—or, well, was inside someone and killed him?”

“The word is ‘possessed,’ dear,” I said. We both love old horror movies and spook flicks. Our favorites are those when the devil and evil spirits possess people and run amuck. Now, it’s not quite as fun. “You can say it.”

“Yeah, possessed.” Bear followed her gaze to my leather chair, tipped his glass toward me, and took a sip. “Whoever has the house wired up left a lot of weird surveillance gear in the attic. And the same someone is following you around—one plus one is two. They have to be connected.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. Some of those photos of you were at the Vincent House. And they could be the key to this case.” He sat back down. “Someone had the entire house under video cameras. Our techies haven’t found any recordings yet so whoever did it must have them.

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