Chapter Eleven - Part Two: Murder or romance?

 

   This time, I felt better prepared for what was to come.  What could be more frightening than Bigfoot and a permanently scarred ancient Indian Chief?  Right?

   Madam was there waiting for us.  The lights in the chandelier were turned on, and she looked quite clear and well rested.  She didn’t, however, look happy.

   “What’s wrong?” I asked.  “Are we late?  Is there some kind of spirit hanging around in the corner waiting to scare us?”

   “Funny,” she said in a sarcastic voice.

   Actually, my feelings were a little hurt.  I’d just been chastised by a ghost.  The hits kept coming.

   “A young lady was found deceased behind one of the buildings up the street.  The police have cordoned off the area and are just now starting their investigation.  Charlie, do you think you might be able to go up there and get some information?”

   “Do my best,” he said, turning to hurry down the stairs.

   I was instantly hit with a wave of panic.  I’d thought that Megan was safe, but now that was in question.  “What did she look like?” I asked Madam.

   “I’m sorry, Susan.  I don’t know yet,” she replied.

   “What do you mean you don’t know yet?” I asked.  “You’re supposed to ‘just know’ things!  Is it Megan, or isn’t it?”

   “Truly, Susan.  We’re going to have to wait for Charlie to get back.  I don’t have the answers that you’re looking for right now.  I’ll get them, but I don’t have them for you yet.”

Madam continued.  “It looks like we’re going to have a bit of time on our hands here.  Since you’re the client, not Charlie, why don’t we keep your mind occupied by interviewing another investigator while Charlie’s out?”

   “I, I’m not sure I can right now,” I stammered.  “What if the dead girl is Megan?  Oh please, God, don’t let it be Megan.  Please don’t let her be hurt.  Just tell me what you want.  I’ll die for her if it will save her from dying.”  By this time, I was sobbing.  If Megan had been killed, I knew that I would die just so I could be with her.

   “Oh, dear girl,” said Madam.  “That’s not how things work, and you know that.  I seriously don’t think that Megan is dead.  It just doesn’t fit the facts that we have for this case.  If you’ve ever trusted anyone, please try to trust me.  When Charles gets back we can get an update.  Until then, let’s just try to stay as calm as possible.”

   “I’m not sure that I have it in me to talk with another spirit right now,” I confessed.  “I can feel my brain closing down from fear.  Can we wait for Charlie to get back?”

   “Certainly.  Now that’s something we can talk about.  Tell me about you and Charles,” she stated in a directive tone of voice.

   “Charlie and me?  What do you mean?  There is no Charlie and me.  I met him yesterday, and he’s been extremely kind and helpful.  At a time when I would have felt unbelievably alone, he stepped in to help.  That’s all there is.”

   “I don’t think so,” Madam responded.  “There’s more going on between you than either one of you is willing to admit.  You might not even realize it, but it’s there.”

   “How long have you been single?” she asked.

   “I’ve always been single,” I answered.  “My daughters’ father didn’t marry me.  He claimed that, because of his line of work, it would’ve been too dangerous for the girls and me to be legally tied to him.  I think that was just a line of crap.  One day he left, and never came back.  That was it.  His ‘other line of work’ was probably another family.  He’s the first and last man I ever loved.  And look what happened to me.  I turned into a single, alcoholic mother of two girls who have suffered their entire lives.  And now one of them might be dead.  I hate that man, wherever he is.”

   “Are you sure?” asked Madam.  “It sounds to me like you might still love him.  That kind of extreme emotion only comes from love and hate, and there’s a line the width of a silk thread between the two of them.”

   “No,” I assured her.  “It’s definitely hate.  I can’t believe how he used me, and then deserted all of us.  Especially Riley and Megan.”

   Just then Charlie came bounding up the narrow stairway.

   My world stopped cold.  I didn’t know how life could continue if the dead girl was Megan.  “This might be the last moment in my life when I have two living daughters,” I thought, as I started to breathe erratically.

   “Hold on, Charles,” said Madam.  “Susan, put your head between your knees.  You’re starting to hyperventilate.   Passing out isn’t going to help.  You can handle this, whatever the news.”

   “Yes, you can,” said Charlie.  “It’s not Megan.  She appears to be about the same age as Megan, but that’s it.  This girl has long dark hair.  It looks like she’s wearing a yellow dress, but now it’s covered with blood so it’s hard to tell.

   A memory flashed through my brain.  “Oh my God,” I cried out, getting over my near bout of hysteria.  “That sounds like the young lady I saw walking down the Promenade last night.  She was with a good looking young man, probably late twenties or early thirties, with the most perfect white teeth.  They were both dressed as though they had either just been in or were just going to a club.”

   “Do you think you’d recognize the girl if you saw her again?” asked Charlie.  “It might be important.”

   “I don’t know.  I was still reeling from everything that happened last night, and the man was the one who really stuck in my mind.  I’d definitely recognize him if I saw him again.  He looked so respectable that I’d actually wished Megan would go out with someone like him.  How shallow was that?  I could have been wishing for my daughter to date a potential murderer!” I gasped.

   “Well, we’re a long way from that conclusion,” declared Charlie.  “I think it’s important for you to give a report to the police.  Why don’t you go back to your hotel room, and I’ll have them call you there?  As horrible as this situation is, at least we know that it’s not Megan.”

   “You’re right.  Okay,” I agreed.  “I’ll walk back, but I’m going to avoid going down Broadway Street.  I don’t want to see what’s going on down there.”

   “Well,” stated Charlie slowly, “it might actually help if you do walk back that way.  There’s quite a crowd out on the sidewalk.  If you look around and see the same man that you saw last night with the girl, let one of the police know right away.  Try and be as nonchalant as you can, so you don’t gain his attention.  Arsonists, murderers, psychopaths – all have a proclivity for going back to the scene of the crime.  They view their crimes as a work of art.  Strange, I know, but true.  There’s no way of knowing if this is even the same girl that you saw last night, much less whether she was killed by the man she was with when you saw her.  And even if both of those are true, there’s still no way of knowing if he’ll return to the scene of his crime.  There are a lot of ‘if’s’ there.  Just stop by and check it out for anyone familiar.”