Knock, knock... (9 page)

"Sometimes, I just like to be without it for a while." In fact, the more he painted, the less he wanted to be connected to the world twenty-four-seven.

"If you say so." She shook her head. "Please call him. It will save my stress levels."

He walked into his office, sat down and reached for the phone. "Hello, Grandfather. Yes, the arrangements are being made. Yes, everything will be ready for Bernice's funeral on Friday."

Silence, then his grandfather gave his two cents worth. "Harumph. If you already knew what I was going to say, why did you call me back?"

Rolling his eyes, Roman sat back and stared up at the ceiling. "So that you would know that I know. Stop worrying. Bernice will go to rest in fine style."

"So long as Charles doesn't go changing anything. Damn, that man has been calling me constantly."

Roman grinned. "You two have talked a half-dozen times a day for decades. Today isn't going to be any different."

"I know." A tired sigh wove through the line. "We're sure going to miss her."

"And yet, you still have each other."

"And you have no one. Why aren’t you married with a family of your own?"

Roman groaned silently. Since he'd returned to Portland, his grandfather hadn't quit harping on Roman’s single status. "I was married, remember?"

"That was a childhood romance. It lasted what...two years? Then divorce. Bet you don't even remember her name," barked his grandfather. "Young kids these days… You don't know what marriage is anymore."

There wasn't much Roman could say to that. Not anything that he hadn't said a dozen times before. "When I find the right woman, I'll get married again. Until then, I'll just enjoy my single status."

"Ha. When was the last time you went on a date? You're always working."

Finally he had something new to add. "That's not true. I'm going on a date on Saturday night. I'm taking a young woman out for dinner."

"Do I know her?" Grandfather asked suspiciously.

"Yes, you do. It's Shay."

"Ah." His grandfather chuckled. "That would make Bernice happy. She always thought the two of your should meet. She spoke highly of Shay’s business acumen – and for Bernice that was something. But a couple of times, I sensed she wanted to say more about her but she always stopped herself before saying what was on her mind."

That fit. Bernice wouldn't likely have said too much to his grandfather. Grandfather's comments were nothing if not pointed. He said at his age, he shouldn't have to hold back for fear of offending anyone. Still this behavior hadn't just started. He'd been very vocal all his life.

"Where are you taking her?"

"Not sure yet. I haven't had a chance to try out too many places here."

"Take her to the Sandors. Great seafood."

"Maybe." Except all the patrons there were Grandfather's age. Roman had actually hoped to take her dancing. He didn't know if she danced or not, but with that body she was probably a natural. And he sure wouldn't mind holding her in his arms for a little while.

And he didn't know what she was hiding, but she was hiding something.

And he wanted to find out exactly what.

***

Finally some action. After the old bat died. Not much yet. Not enough for Shay to understand. But she would figure it out. And the police would, too. Eventually. But by then they wouldn't be able to do anything about it.

And damn, if Shay didn't look to have another hunk at her heels. At least the type of man she favored – he’d hovered by her side at the Foundation reception. Roman Chandler. Wealthy businessman and budding artist. The Chandlers are a well-known family.

He looked good too. Damn good. In many ways, the two suited each other. And Roman Chandler had walls, too. Getting around them was possible, but it would take time – time that wasn't available.

There was a deadline to meet. A death to honor. Justice to be served. It was long past due. But it will be done… Then I can move on.

Monday mid-morning…

A
fter Roman left the office, Shay pulled in her scattered thoughts and hit the first speed dial number on her phone, trying for a second time to make this call. She leaned back in her comfortable chair, hoping Roman's brother was available. She couldn't ignore the niggling unease in her belly. Something wasn't right.

Ronin must have recognized her on caller ID. "Hi Shay. How are you doing?"

The calm, warm voice on the other end made her smile. How anyone could do the job Ronin did and still have such a lighthearted personality amazed her. Though she didn't know Roman's brother all that well, Ronin'd been there for her every time she needed him. He was a good man to have on her side. As he'd proved when Darren died. She could only hope his brother was a good man, too.

She laughed lightly. "I'm fine. As always."

"Not if you're calling me, you aren't." He paused. "I heard about Bernice. I am sorry." His tone turned serious. "So what's the problem?"

And that was the best part about dealing with the same people over time, the relationship was already in place, and you could go directly to the heart of the matter without the small talk. She passed over Bernice's death and got to the point.

"Dr. David Cummings, the man behind the Westside Dental Center, has passed away. Our foundation funds the center. I'm wondering if you have any details, and if this is something I need to be concerned about."

"I haven't heard anything about this." His tone was brusque. "Is there a lot of money being funneled into that project?"

She heard the tapping on his keyboard as he searched for information.

"Over a million at this point. It's a dental practice for kids in need. It's constantly busy. I think there are four dentists working full time and all the support staff. It's totally charity funded."

"Hmmm. From your end, is there any reason to suspect that there's a problem?"

"Not sure. The application had been received as per the annual deadline, but there were a couple of issues that were flagged so it was brought to my attention. They aren't big. It was more like someone else filled out the paperwork this time instead of the regular person. Someone who didn't know the ins and outs of the Center’s paperwork."

"Hmm." Ronin's voice was thoughtful, distant. His keyboard clicked a few more times. "David Cummings keeled over at his home, apparently while talking to a neighbor. According to the eyewitness, he'd been alone for maybe a half hour before he died. Apparent heart attack. No signs of a fight.

"Because he had no history of a heart condition and was only fifty-two, it raises some questions, so an autopsy..." His voice trailed off as he clicked through a few more screens. "It’s scheduled for later tomorrow. Depending on case load."

"Understood." This gave her nothing new to go by. "If you hear of anything odd, let me know, and if anything pops up on my end, I'll give you a ring."

"Thanks. And hey, go easy on my brother. He's been waiting to meet you since forever."

Ronin rang off, leaving Shay spluttering, staring down at the phone in her hand, her mind full of Roman – again.
Damn.
She tried to refocus on the problem at hand.

She couldn't run any scans on David's body, as he was already gone, but every action and reaction required energy. And the first law of the conservation of energy said that energy cannot be created nor destroyed. It can only change form. Therefore, the energy involved in this business had either left behind a trail, transformed that trail to something else, or hadn't existed in the first place.

Meaning he'd died by natural causes.

That happened.

The energy from a paranormal being could have physically touched him in such a way as to cause a heart attack. If that were the case, in theory, then its energy would still be on David's body, but it would be dissipating rapidly. It would be difficult for that energy to change form on a corpse. Not an easy medium to work with.

Not that it wasn't possible. The more she understood, the more she realized she didn't understand anything...

There were assholes out there; some were psychics who had skills far beyond anything she'd ever been able to imagine. And it was so not easy to catch up to them.

Stefan might know who and how, though.

She tuned in and sent him a message. It bounced off the door to his mind. She sighed. He was likely painting.

He'd get the message when he stopped and opened his psyche up to the rest of the world again. In the meantime, was there anything she could find out on her own?

She pondered that. Shay knew Dr. Maddy could scan a body remotely. Shay hadn't had much luck with distance scanning.

But there was a technique whereby Shay could retrace her path to take another look at places, people and events that she'd already experienced. In rare cases, she could go back to certain situations that loved ones had experienced by hitching a ride on their memories.

It was great for remembering details. Not great for determining murder or murderers. Still, she couldn't quite let it go. It would at least tell her if anyone in the office held any serious animosity toward David – something worthy of a second look.

So should she try at home, or from here?

Making a sudden decision, Shay stood up, walked out into the main office and saw that both of her office staff had left to take their lunch breaks.
Good.
She returned to her office and locked the door. Setting the phones so incoming calls all went straight to voicemail, she settled into her chair.

She closed her eyes and pictured the center where David Cummings had worked, as it was on her last visit. That's how her skills worked. Because she’d been to a place once, she could visualize it and access it from her mind.

The front door of the center loomed and she pushed it open mentally and walked in. Shay smiled at the office staff, busy on the phone and talking to customers. Just as it had been last time. She hooked into her energy's memory and retraced her steps through the last visit.

David, looking happy, saw her and smiled. He excused himself from the discussion with the office manager and walked over, hand out to greet her – as he had that day.

"Nice to see you."

Her body reached out to shake his hand while Shay's astral body watched the interaction from outside the physical plane. Separated from the physical reality, Shay was free to observe the interactions involving others around her.

Moving forward, David led her to his office.

Shay studied the room and the energy trails of the people who'd entered and left – their energy, wispy and dispersing. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But if there'd been anything obvious, she'd have noticed it on the day she'd actually been there. At least she hoped she would have.

Now that she wasn't grounded in the physical experience, she could take the necessary time to look around. See what else might be going on. She couldn't separate from the memory to wander on her own, but she could turn around and see the main office, the dashes and flares of energy as people communicated with one another.

Every word spoken required energy. Every facial expression required energy and as it manifested, it gave off energy that went to the other person in the exchange. She could see the exchanges. The energy also blended and blurred, shared and moved through the room as people said one thing and meant another. Or if someone spoke to one person but wanted to speak with another. The first person would receive the energy as it was directed to them, but some energy snuck around that person and snaked over to the person that they really wanted to speak with.

Trails and lingering blankets of energy spoke of lots of interactions at many levels.

The staff had their interactions with each other, with the customers and with their bosses, and then there were messages, spoken and unspoken, about their private lives – the stuff people shared with each other and the stuff they kept hidden. And then there were the lies. She hated seeing the details of some people's personal lives.

Some of it was incredibly private and she tried to move on quickly.

And for every action there was always an equal reaction. The energy pushing the message was going to be buffered by the person perceiving or receiving the message. The bottom line was this: everyone left vestiges of themselves behind, and connected to others, and only a few special people understood that some people could see it all.

Some people – like her.

At least when she dropped her walls she could see it all – unless the person protected themselves like Darren had. She refused to drop her walls in public because she'd be inundated with the onslaught. Right now, having stepped back into a memory as she had, it was easier to deal with others' energy than if she were in real time. Like watching a movie instead of participating in a play. She could also apply a filter of sorts and focus acutely on what caught her attention.