SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) Read Free Page B

murders.”
    “Okay,” I shrugged. “You were trying to catch a killer, so how’d you end up a patrolman?”
    Dodge Benson got up and started a pot of coffee. I was probably annoying him and he hoped that coffee would sober him up and I would disappear. He was probably right. As the coffee brewed, he sat back down and continued eating his eggs.
    “How’d you end up a patrolman?” I asked again.
    He glanced at the coffee pot, which wasn’t finished yet. “The victims were prostitutes and my chief didn’t think their deaths were important. He wanted me to stop working the cases.”
    “You were pulled from the case and put back into patrol?”
    He scowled at me. “No, he pulled me from the cases so I could oversee the security for a visiting dignitary from France.”
    “As a patrolman?” I asked.
    “I’m a Homicide Inspector,” he growled. “NOT a babysitter.”
    “Okay, I think I’ve got it. You disagreed with your chief and that’s why you got busted down to patrolman.”
    “No, I was busted back to patrolman because that dignitary filed a complaint against me.”
    “Why?”
    “He had the audacity to hand me his drug pipe as he exited his limo. I threw him in handcuffs and hauled his ass down to the station.”
    “Okay, I know I don’t understand a lot about police work, but isn’t it your job to arrest people who use illegal drugs?”
    Dodge shook his head and mumbled, “Diplomatic immunity.”
    “And you hate being a patrolman so much that you decided to kill yourself?”
    “I wasn’t going to kill myself,” he said, but wouldn’t meet my eyes.
    “It sure looked like it to me.”
    “I just had a bad night, that’s all,” his tone was low, almost a whisper.
    “What happened?”
    He glared at me, got up, poured himself a huge cup of coffee, and drank the entire cup. Then he stared at me.
    “Waiting for me to disappear?”
    “Yes.” He poured another cup of coffee.
    “Who’s Cynthia?” I asked
    He gulped his coffee down, then looked over the top of the mug at me.
    “I’m going to disappear anyway, right? Why not talk to me?”
    He shrugged.
    “Who’s Cynthia?”
    “She was my wife.”
    “Did she leave you because you were busted down to a patrolman?”
    “No,” he shook his head and frowned at me.
    “She died?”
    He nodded.
    Was that why he wanted to kill himself? To join her? It didn’t work that way. My parents were killed in a plane crash. When I died, I was excited because I thought I’d see them again. I couldn’t find them. They had moved on, but I hadn’t. “Was she sick?”
    “No.”
    “Then what?”
    He put his head into his hands.
    I wished I could reach out and touch him but I couldn’t. “I’m sorry.”
    Dodge looked up at me. His eyes filled with tears but his body was tense with anger. “She was killed.” Then he refilled his coffee mug and drank the entire mug.
    Three cups of coffee was a lot of caffeine, but it wasn’t going to help him. “I’m not sure the coffee’s going to work.”
    “Why?”
    “I’m not exactly a hallucination and you’re not asleep.”
    “What?” He raised both eyebrows and crinkled up his face.
    “I’m a ghost.” I shrugged.
    The cup slipped from his hand and shattered on the floor.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 3
     
     
    Dodge didn’t bother to clean up the mess. He marched down the hall to his bedroom.
    As I ran along behind him, I tried to talk to him, “Well, I am and…”
    He put his hands over his ears and sang the “Star Spangled Banner” at the top of his lungs.
    He slammed his bedroom door in my face. I just walked through it. No big accomplishment for me. He glanced back, scowled, then put his hands back on his ears and continued the song.
    When he pulled off his shirt, I gasped. God, he was gorgeous - all muscles and thick black hair covering his chest. I think he heard me gasp because he sang louder. He went into his bathroom and shut the door. Everyone deserves privacy in the