Page 4 of A Midsummer Night’s Ghost (Murder By Design #8)

FOUR

“Do you remember how I got married last week?” Alyssa Dembowski asked me as she put an adorable polka dot satin top on a hanger the day after our move.

I’d forgotten I had that top. I would have to put it back in the outfit rotation now that it had been rediscovered. Moving had its advantages.

But this wasn’t the time to worry about my wardrobe. We were talking about Alyssa’s “wedding.”

I paused and pulled my face out of my closet, where I was filling a shoe organizer in an attempt to unbury myself from boxes. I eyed my best friend.

“I don’t exactly think I could forget that you got drunk at a police function and married a random stranger three hours after you met him. What about it?”

Unlike me, Alyssa was brass, unapologetic, confident, and very analytical when it came to her career and her finances. When it came to her personal life, however, she was impulsive, the life of the party, and probably on some level still the insecure sixteen-year-old who was bullied mercilessly for her weight.

It led to her having a revolving door of boyfriends and dates, and now, apparently, to a husband. They’d run into each other at the Fraternal Order of Police annual tattoo social event and a mere three hours later drunkenly got married by what I had to assume was an equally drunken judge.

“That’s completely false. I met him with you months and months ago when that old guy died in that lake house you were staging.”

“You met the sheriff for like five minutes. But fine. I’ll give you he wasn’t a totally random stranger.” He also wasn’t exactly a fan of me, so that was a little awkward.

“Thank you.” Alyssa held the blouse up in front of her and paused dramatically. “We’re going on a first date.”

“You and your husband?”

“ Yes .”

“Well, that’s exciting. Where are you going?” Just because the sheriff had seemed annoyed by me finding a dead body in his jurisdiction didn’t mean I wasn’t rooting for Alyssa to have a happily-ever-after.

I stuck my camel-colored sling backs in a shoe slot. Everyday shoes got the organizer. The special ones got their own storage containers put up on a shelf, with a photo of the shoes inside on the outside of the box for easy access. I liked my closet tidy. I couldn’t say this was the closet of my dreams, but Jake had given me custody of the primary bedroom’s closet and he was using the guest room.

“It’s a surprise. He planned the whole thing. Isn’t that romantic?”

Romantic was one way to interpret that. Terrifying was another.

“Are you sure the surprise isn’t you at the bottom of the lake?” I asked skeptically. “I mean, you don’t actually know this guy all that well.”

“He’s a sheriff. He’s not going to kill me.”

I wasn’t touching that one with a ten foot pole.

“Share your location with me. Does Jake know your new husband? I should ask him before you go anywhere alone with this guy. What’s his full name? I confess, I can’t remember it.”

The way she dramatically announced, “Lawson Hill” I half-expected doves to fly out of a box at her words. “I’m sure Jake will tell you he’s amazing because he is.”

Right. Lawson Hill, the older guy with salt and pepper hair, who Alyssa had insisted gave her the “look.” Apparently, she had been right.

“I’ll ask Jake about him before you go out with him tonight.”

“It’s not a big deal. I’ve already spent the night with him after our wedding.” She hung the blouse in the closet and waved her hand. “It was fine. He’s sweet. I wouldn’t have married him otherwise. He was a perfect gentleman. Well.” She picked up a pair of tailored pants and grinned. “In that he didn’t say or do anything rude or violent he was. I wouldn’t say he was a total gentleman, if you know what I mean.”

I obviously knew what she meant. But considering I’d known Jake for years before I started dating him, our dealings with men were not on the same playing field. Alyssa was the soccer star, kicking goals and taking headers, and I was observing game play from up in the stadium nosebleeds.

Alyssa did look happy. She was wearing a skintight off-the-shoulder sweater and wide leg jeans with full makeup and loose curls. She had on stiletto boots, making me feel less than glamorous in my leggings and giant sweatshirt. I had been phoning it in with my outfits lately, I had to admit.

“Please don’t ever let Jake’s mother get wind of the fact that you’re now married. She’ll lose her mind if she finds that out when Jake and I aren’t even engaged.”

Alyssa slipped the pants onto a hanger. “I feel like she would be judgmental about me getting married after only meeting someone twice for a total of four hours.”

“No, she’ll judge you if you get divorced, not on how or why you got married.” I was only half-joking.

“I did wait until marriage to sleep with him. I should get points for that.”

We looked at each other and both burst out laughing.

“That feels like a loophole,” I told her. “What did your parents say about all this?”

“They’re on a heavy metal rock cruise right now so they’re in the middle of the ocean with spotty cell reception. I’ll tell them when they get home but you know they won’t care. They’re high half the time and super happy. Even more happy now that THC is legal.”

Alyssa’s parents were Gen X through and through, still dressing like they had in the eighties and going to concerts all the time. Her dad wore Converse and an AC/DC T-shirt almost every day. Her mom looked like she was ready to jump on a motorcycle at any given moment. They were in their cannabis era, as Alyssa liked to say, both semi-retired and determined to live like they were still twenty-two.

They were also a lot of fun to be around.

“You have no idea how jealous I am of that.”

“Yeah, well, they’re definitely nonjudgmental, which I love. But someday when I have kids I’m going to miss having a mother who wants to babysit every weekend and a father who wears a sweater vest.”

“My mother is never going to babysit. Not even for ten minutes.”

“I thought she always pressured you to have kids.”

“She does. Doesn’t mean she plans to help me raise them. Which is her right, don’t get me wrong. Jake’s mother is going to be the one who helps all the time but will also rearrange my furniture when she’s babysitting. The babysitting won’t come without a price. Not that Jake and I are having kids,” I added hastily, because I didn’t want to jinx my own future in discussing something Jake and I hadn’t even really discussed.

“Of course you’re getting married and having kids with Jake eventually. You just bought a house together. I wonder what my mother-in-law is like,” Alyssa said, holding a dress up against herself in the mirror. “God, you’re tiny. This dress looks like it was made for a bitty baby.”

That’s a new backhanded compliment I haven’t heard before. Usually my small frame earns me, “Are you okay?”

“I’m short and there’s nothing I can do about that. I never really gained the weight back that I lost when Ryan died either. I’m fun size, what can I say?”

“I love that for you.” Alyssa put the dress in my closet. “Have you seen Ryan recently?”

Alyssa is a skeptic. She thinks Ryan is a figment of my imagination. Some sort of grief conjured delusion. But she’s a supportive friend so she does ask about him and the whole spiritual medium unintentional side gig.

“Yes, and he was kind of a jerk to me. He said I mother Jake, which is creepy. Also, some guy died at the senior center and no one seemed to think it was anything other than natural causes but Ryan insisted it was a homicide.”

“It’s easier to kill old people because that’s what everyone assumes—natural causes.”

That made me jerk back and hit my head on the buckle of a belt that was dangling down. “Ow,” I said automatically, even though it didn’t really hurt.

Alyssa’s words had struck a chord.

Ryan’s intel said it was a homicide. Just because at first glance no one in emergency services didn’t think it was didn’t mean a thing.

“You are so right,” I said. I dropped the suede pumps in my hand and pulled my phone out of my hoodie. I typed in James Kwaitkowski’s name.

What popped up was not his obituary, as you would expect, but a few social media hits and his rap sheet. He’d been convicted for not paying child support and for domestic battery.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm, what?”

“I don’t know.” I went to his social media page and started scouring through his posts. He typed in shorthand, with zero punctuation, which wasn’t a crime, but should be, but otherwise I didn’t see any violent rants and cussing out of the ex-wife or girlfriend. I also didn’t see any pictures of his child or children either.

It was mostly James in bars with a variety of people his age, holding up drinks.

The one bar, Danny O’s, appeared to be his favorite haunt, based on the number of times he marked himself there. I couldn’t tell from the pictures if it was all the same place. One dive bar looks the same as any other. But given the crowd seemed to be the same people and the background was generally the same, it was a fair assumption he was a Danny O regular.

“Do you want to go to Danny O’s with me later this week?” I asked Alyssa.

“Ew, no. Why would you want to go there? That’s one sketchy and…sticky bar.”

Not reassuring.

I knew vaguely where it was but had never even contemplated going in there before today. It definitely looked like a third shift bar, given the number of smokers outside of it at seven in the morning.

“To see what the patrons at Danny O’s know about our recently deceased spirit?” I asked, hopeful. I didn’t want to walk in there alone and start asking questions. I’ve been told I look like a social worker. I showed her my phone. “It’s his favorite bar.”

Alyssa eyed me. “If I say no, you’re going to go alone, aren’t you?”

I nodded, biting my lip.

“Oh, Lord.” She sighed. “I’ll go with you. I’ll ask Lawson to go with us if you don’t want to ask Jake.”

I didn’t want to ask Jake. I didn’t want to lie to him either. “But if you invite Lawson, then Jake will find that weird. If I just say you and I are going out, he won’t think anything of it.”

“You and I just strolling in there is going to be weird. We’re going to have ninety-year-old convicted felons hitting on us.”

“There are worse ways to spend a Thursday night?” I posed it like a question because I couldn’t convince even myself that this wasn’t a bad idea.

Alyssa snorted. “I would take laser hair removal over this. A colonoscopy. A meeting with the IRS because you owe them money.” She paused. “Okay, not the last one.”

“See, there are worse things.” I shoved my platform wedges onto the closet shelf. “What should I wear?”

“A gun.”

That made me laugh. “You’re exaggerating.”

But not by much.

A blast of hot air that smelled like fried bologna hit me in the face when I yanked open the door to Danny O’s at nine that night. I had wanted to go immediately but Alyssa wisely pointed out that even barflies don’t usually hit the local watering hole before seven.

“At least they don’t cheap out on the heat,” Alyssa murmured behind me. “It’s like a sauna in here. A stinky sauna.”

Multiple sets of eyes turned our way in curiosity. I suspected it was habit to see who was entering the bar, but in our case, our entrance was met with raised eyebrows.

I had taken Alyssa’s advice and forgone the usual uniform I wore of sweater sets and wide legged pants with designer shoes. Instead, I had put on jeans and a basic sweater with boots that could best be described as chunky. They had been a gift from Alyssa’s dad, who had attempted to convince me to learn how to ride a motorcycle. Which had resulted in me screaming on the back of a hog for five minutes straight while my noodle arms clung to his waist in a manner that felt inappropriate, yet necessary for survival.

“I appreciate these boots from your dad.”

“I honestly wish my dad was here right now,” Alyssa said.

“I agree.” I sidled into the dim establishment and found the most open spot at the bar. It was tempting to grab Alyssa’s arm for support but I had to pretend I could handle this.

The bartender approached as we took two stools. He was around sixty, covered in tattoos, sporting a grizzled beard. “What can I get you ladies?”

In the nick of time, I stopped myself from ordering wine. “Uh, a light beer.”

He gave me a funny look but nodded and turned to Alyssa. “How about you?”

“Tito’s on the rocks.”

He seemed to approve her choice more than mine because he smiled. “Sure, sweet thing.”

Alyssa grabbed my knee and squeezed it hard beneath the bar.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from her. She obviously didn’t want to be overheard.

Told you we’d get hit on.

That made me roll my eyes.

Just you.

“Do you recognize any of these customers?” she asked in a low voice, leaning on her elbow so she could talk directly to me, blocking the patrons behind her, presumably so they couldn’t hear her but also as a front so that I would appear to be talking to her while I was actually checking the customers out.

I was impressed with her subterfuge.

Glancing over her shoulder as casually as possible, I took stock of the people present. As to be expected, there was a couple of ancient men nursing drinks, seemingly alone. There was a young couple who arguably were not old enough to be drinking. Then a mixed group of three women and two men of varying ages.

The one woman looked like someone I had seen in James’s pictures.

“Maybe.” I opened my phone and did a casual (in my mind, anyway) check.

Obviously no one else agreed, because the woman slid off her stool and stalked over to me. “What are you doing?”

She looked like she was around forty, heavy eye makeup, a pack of cigarettes tucked into her bra. She also looked menacing, completely different from the cheerful pics I’d seen of her posted online.

“Uh, just having a beer?” I couldn’t help it. My voice rose at the end, turning the statement into a question.

“I’ve never seen you here before and you’re messing with your phone too much. Are you taking my picture? I’m not drinking.”

Alyssa jumped in. “No one is taking your picture. Everyone our age messes with their phone too much. It’s a national plague.”

“I don’t care if you’re drinking or not,” I assured her.

“You look like a social worker.”

There it was. I didn’t even have a sweater set on. “I’m not a social worker.”

“I’m not losing custody of my kids again.” She scowled at me.

I tried to smile reassuringly. “I’m not with CPS. I’m just wondering if anyone here knows anything about James Kwaitkowski.”

The bartender slapped my beer glass down so hard it sloshed over the edges and I jumped. “What about James?” he demanded.

Alyssa gave me a look like “what are you doing?” but I figured there was no way to get any information without actually asking about James. Besides, I didn’t want to hang around here longer than was necessary.

“I work at the senior center,” I lied. “I was there when he…”

Three sets of expectant eyes drilled into me. Another man had come up behind the woman and put his palms on her shoulders.

“When he what?” New Guy asked.

“Did he quit his job?” the woman demanded. “That son of a bitch. I knew he’d do this. He’s trying to weasel out of paying child support to me.”

So James and the ex he owed child support to partied together regularly at the bar?

Huh. That seemed like a mixed message to me.

“Well. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but he passed away,” I said, lowering my voice into a sympathetic hush. I hadn’t expected that no one in his circle would know he died. I would have thought the police would notify the mother of his child, but maybe she’d been at Danny O’s instead of at home when they had swung by.

Or they’d called her and she hadn’t called them back, because this was a woman who looked suspicious regarding law enforcement.

“What?” She stared at me blankly. “What do you mean?”

The man behind her swore and took a menacing step toward me. I eased back a little on my stool.

“I mean he died. At work. At the senior center. They think he had a heart attack.”

Shock crossed her face then she instantly became angry. “How do you know he’s dead and I don’t? I’m the mother of his child, his ex-wife. His girlfriend now, off and on. We’ve been on this month, actually, and it was going really well. Was he cheating on me with you?”

“No! I told you, I work at the senior center. I have a boyfriend and she’s married.” I jerked my thumb in Alyssa’s direction.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” she said disdainfully. “James was charming.”

Not from what I had seen. Of course, to be fair, that was post mortem. Maybe he’d been a swell guy prior to death. “I only met him once. But I was at the senior center when…it happened.”

“So why are you here then?” the man asked.

The other three people with them had come over and now we’re encircling me and Alyssa like a schoolyard fight was about to ensue.

Nope. No and no. Time to leave.

“I saw he comes here all the time and I just wanted to raise a glass to him.”

That almost sounded believable. I tapped Alyssa’s leg and threw a twenty on the bar top. We both slid down our stools but we were left with very little room. Alyssa’s knee accidentally bumped the second man, perilously close to his crotch.

“Did you just touch my man?” one of the other women, who had frosted tips and an unlit cigarette dangling from her mouth, asked.

She looked about sixty-five and super unhappy.

At the moment, I understood her vibe. I wasn’t thrilled with the circumstances either.

“Not on purpose, trust me,” Alyssa said, throwing her hands up. “Now can you please step back so we can leave. I’m sure this news has been unsettling for you.”

“What’s “unsettling” (yes, she used air quotes) is that you’re hitting on my man right in front of me.”

“I am not hitting on your man,” Alyssa snapped. “Seriously, back up.”

I was grateful Alyssa was with me. I would have been like a baby bunny in a cage full of Rottweilers if I were there by myself.

Though I was regretting not taking her up on her offer to drag Lawson along with us.

I’m sure that me wanting to go to Danny O’s to investigate a crime that wasn’t even considered a crime would have gone over well with him and made a fabulous second impression of me. He had already thought I was slightly nuts the first time we met.

“Don’t talk to my friend like that,” James’s ex-wife/girlfriend said, sticking her finger in Alyssa’s face.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to slide through between the two women. My heart was starting to race and I had serious doubts about my ability to defend myself in a bar fight. I patted my back pocket to make sure my phone was still there.

Not that I could call for help if I was down on a sticky bar floor fending off the tobacco tag team duo.

As it was, I was starting to suffocate on the overpowering scent of Stetson cologne and cheap beer. I again tried to ease past the women when the blonde made like she was going to forehead bump me into unconsciousness.

She didn’t but I still screamed, which made her laugh.

In good news, she shifted to the side.

“Hey,” Alyssa protested. “What is your problem?”

“I’ll show you my problem.”

“No, you won’t,” I said. I grabbed Alyssa’s hand and dragged her through the opening we were given, praising Alyssa’s father in my head for buying me the boring but highly practical boots.

We stumbled out of the bar and ran a full block before we stopped, winded. I was bent over gasping for air and checking to make sure we weren’t being chased when Alyssa burst out laughing.

Now that we were safe, I gave a nervous laugh as well.

“Oh, my God,” Alyssa said. “That was so…ridiculous. And a little scary.”

“Very scary. Though you were seriously badass.”

“I try. I’ve had a lot of experience with bullies. So much for our investigation skills though. All we did was give them information.”

“That really wasn’t useful at all,” I lamented.

We started walking back to my car.

“We did learn James is charming,” she said with a grin.

We both laughed again. “I think those ladies have low standards. She was dating the man she was suing for child support. That seems like a poor choice.”

“As was us coming here.”

“I will concede that point. But the ex obviously didn’t kill James. She seemed genuinely shocked.”

“One ex down. Probably seven ex-wives to go.”

She was joking, but a quick search on my phone in my car proved she wasn’t far off. “Only four,” I told her cheerfully. “How does your weekend look?”

Alyssa groaned. “Bailey. That’s such a bad idea.”

I unlocked the car. “Do you have a better one?”

“No. But I can tell you that I was actually checking that guy out.”

I paused with my hand on the door handle. “You cannot be serious. If that is true, I may need to rethink my friendship with you.”

“Not the way she was thinking though.” Alyssa gave me a sly smile. “I was looking at his forearm when he blocked blondie from beating us up. He has a brand new tattoo. You can tell because it was scabbing over.”

“Yuck. Okay. Of what? Who cares?”

“Get in the car and I’ll tell you. I’m not sure those women still won’t follow us. And there is some guy who is following us.”

Glancing back, I saw she was right. One of the guys seated at the bar was walking toward us, gaze drilling into me.

“Yikes.” I obediently slid in the car and once she was in, I made sure the doors were locked before pulling out of the parking lot. “So…?”

“It was a date. Tuesday’s date. Day, month, year. New ink, still shiny from lotion. With a skull. Now why do you think that is?”

My heart started to hammer. “Because he already knew James was dead. It was a memorial tattoo gotten right after James died.”

“Bingo. That guy knew.”