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  THE EX WHO CONNED A PSYCHIC

  Sally Berneathy

  Copyright ©2014 Sally Berneathy.

  http://www.sallyberneathy.com

  Original cover art by Alicia Hope http://www.aliciahopeauthor.blogspot.com

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  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without express written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or to actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  Amanda roared into the parking lot of the Dallas Police Department substation and brought her Harley Sportster to a stop. Charley was, of course, riding on the back. In the two years they’d been married he hadn’t spent a lot of time hanging around, but now that he was dead, she couldn’t get rid of him.

  She locked the bike, dismounted, slid off her helmet and glared at him. “Do not start on me again!”

  Charley spread his hands in a gesture of innocence. The September sunlight glinted off his blond hair much as it had done in life, though everything about him, including his hair, was slightly more translucent in his ghostly state. “I just think that detective’s taking up too much of your time, making you come back in for more questions again.”

  “Really? We’re trying to make sure those three creeps who murdered Dawson’s parents and kidnapped his brother are put away for the rest of their lives, and you think it’s taking too much of my time?”

  Charley shrugged and looked away. “Seems to me you could have done it over the phone instead of in person.”

  “You’re jealous, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about. It’s not about my time. It’s just because you think I’m attracted to Jake Daggett.” She was, but she wasn’t about to admit it to Charley.

  Charley’s cheeks flushed faintly pink. Interesting that he could still blush when he had no blood and no body to hold any blood. He looked away and didn’t respond to her accusation. Lying had been his favorite form of communication in life, but in death Charley couldn’t lie so he sometimes had difficulty maintaining a conversation.

  Amanda started across the parking lot toward the front door of the substation.

  “You could at least wait until I’m dead,” he mumbled.

  “You are dead. If you hadn’t been murdered, our divorce would have eventually become final no matter how long you fought it. Either way, I’m not married to you anymore and it’s none of your business if I decide to date somebody.” While it wasn’t any of his business, his presence was a definite deterrent to any sort of relationship. Bound to her by an invisible tether, he couldn’t get farther away than a few hundred yards and usually refused to go even that far, especially when Detective Jake Daggett was around.

  “You’re a cold woman, Amanda.”

  “Actually, I’m a little hot after riding over here in this leather jacket. I think the temperature must be about ninety already.”

  “Amanda Caulfield?”

  Amanda looked up at the sound of her name. A young woman with dark hair bounced down the steps leading to the front door of the station.

  The woman paused in front of Amanda, her smile bright, her brown eyes sparkling. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember me. Teresa Landow. I sat behind you in third period history class.”

  Amanda forced her lips upward in what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of a smile. “Teresa. Of course I remember you.” Like she’d ever forget one of the most annoying people she’d ever met. Teresa—cheerleader, prom queen, homecoming queen, girl most likely to succeed and to be hated by every other girl in school. Amanda gave her a quick once over. Damn. She still looked great in her skin tight jeans and boots with three inch heels that elevated her tiny frame almost to Amanda’s height. Her hair, falling sleek and straight down her back, glinted blue black in the sunlight.

  “You’re looking good,” Teresa said. “Is that gear for real? Are you a biker chick now?”

  “I ride motorcycles, yes.” Amanda glanced over her shoulder. “That’s one of mine.”

  Charley wrapped his arms around himself and gave a mock shiver. “From the frigid tone of your voice, I’m going to take a wild guess and say this woman was not your best friend.”

  Amanda turned back to Teresa who appeared to be looking at Charley. Of course she wasn’t since nobody but Amanda had the privilege…or curse…of being able to see and hear Charley.

  Teresa’s gaze shifted to the Harley. “I’ve always thought riding a motorcycle would be fun.”

  “It is. I got my first bike the summer after we graduated. Oh, but you left just before graduation, didn’t you?” Even as Amanda spoke, she remembered the stories and wished she could call back her words. She didn’t like Teresa but hadn’t meant to be cruel by bringing up painful memories.

  Teresa shrugged. “Dad made some bad investments and we lost the house. Moved to a less expensive part of town.” She recited the disastrous events as if they were of little importance though Amanda recalled hearing at the time she had been devastated.

  Charley edged closer. “Guess you got her put down for whatever she did to you in high school.”

  Amanda forced herself not to look at him, not to reprimand him, to keep her gaze focused on Teresa. “Well, it’s great to see you again.” She moved forward as if to go around the woman.

  But Teresa stepped backward, remaining in her path. “Your dad’s a lawyer, isn’t he?”

  “He was. He’s a judge now.” The woman was coming out of the police station and asking about a lawyer. Amanda had a feeling she knew what was coming next.

  Teresa’s cheerleader smile drooped slightly. “Oh. Well, if he’s a judge, I may be seeing him soon. My husband was murdered, and they’re looking at me as a suspect just because I hated him and had good reason to kill him.”

  Amanda flinched and felt a flash of sympathy for the woman she’d envied and hated in high school. “Been there, done that.”

  “No kidding?” Teresa’s gaze flickered to the side, again almost as if she could see Charley. “Your husband was murdered and they blamed you? Who’d you get to represent you in court?”

  “It didn’t go that far. They didn’t have any real evidence against me. It was all circumstantial, and we found the real killer.”

  “That’s wonderful! Maybe you could help me find out who murdered my husband.”

  “Oh, well, uh…”

  “She probably did it herself,” Charley said.

  “I did not!” Teresa snapped.

  Charley moved closer to Amanda. “Okay, that was weird.”

  Teresa couldn’t have heard him and responded to his accusation. Maybe she was responding to Amanda’s hesitation, assuming it meant she thought Teresa was guilty. “I’m sure you didn’t. The police will find the truth.”

  Teresa rolled her eyes. “Not likely. I just talked to them, and they don’t want the truth. They only want a conviction. The cop in there was very rude to me, acted like he didn’t believe a word I said. Told me not to leave town.”

  Amanda w
asn’t sure how many homicide detectives they had at the small substation, probably not a lot. “What was the detective’s name?”

  “Jake Daggett. Hot guy, but a complete jerk.”

  Charley snorted.

  “That’s the guy who had my case. He’s okay. He just likes to come on as the bad cop. I’m not sure they have a good cop. You’ll be fine.” Again Amanda tried to move around Teresa.

  Teresa took her arm to detain her. All traces of the happy cheerleader were gone. She looked downright desperate. “Amanda, I need your help.”

  “My help? I guess I could ask my dad to recommend a good criminal lawyer.” She tried to free her arm but the smaller woman’s grip was astonishingly strong.

  “I’m a psychic,” Teresa said.

  “A what? Psychic? Like on television?”

  “Yes, exactly like on television. My grandmother was too. I inherited it from her. My mother didn’t have the gift or maybe we wouldn’t have lost everything.” She gave a wry grin. “We’re gypsies. Well, we were a few generations ago. I’ve always had the gift, and it’s how I’ve been earning a living since Anthony and I split up.”

  “You were separated when he was murdered? Me too.” Amanda felt a glimmer of kinship with this woman she didn’t particularly like. “We were getting a divorce but he got himself killed before it was final.” The archaic expression was the way she looked at it. Charley had got himself killed by being a greedy blackmailer.

  Teresa stepped back and held a hand to her chest, her eyes wide. “Me too! He left me for some blond bimbo who had a bigger boob job than mine and then he got himself killed.”

  “Your husband cheated on you? So did mine!” They were practically sisters.

  “We need to go somewhere and talk.”

  “I can’t right now. I have to meet with Detective Daggett about another case. Maybe we can get together for lunch sometime.” Even though they shared membership in the cheated-on sisterhood, Amanda wasn’t sure she wanted to pursue any kind of involvement with the former cheerleader turned psychic.

  “How about dinner tonight? We have way more to talk about than we can get to over just lunch.”

  “Well, uh…”

  “Amanda, this is probably going to sound crazy, but I swear it’s the truth. You have a spirit attached to you.”

  Amanda gasped.

  Charley gasped. “She can see me?”

  “Of course I can see you. You’re a man, tall and blond with blue eyes and wearing a white knit shirt and khaki slacks.”

  She could see him. Somebody else could see Charley. Amanda bit her lip and tried to take it in. She had been certain she was the only one who could see and hear Charley. But now, unless this was some kind of a trick, Teresa could see him. “It’s my ex-husband, Charley.” Her voice came out barely above a whisper.

  “Oh, you know he’s here? I didn’t realize you were psychic too.”

  Amanda shook her head. “I’m not. He’s the only ghost I’ve ever seen. I hope he’s the only one I ever have to see.”

  “Did he tell you who killed him? Is that the way you were able to prove your innocence?”

  “Yes, I did,” Charley said proudly. “You can really see me?”

  “I couldn’t miss you. You still have a strong presence on this plane. You didn’t get very far away. But I can’t see my own husband’s spirit, and none of the spirits I’ve talked to have seen him either. That’s got to be why I’ve been led to you, Amanda. I don’t know if he’s hiding from me because he wants to see me go to prison or he’s just on such a low plane, the other spirits can’t see him. But maybe, since your husband’s spirit is so close to the earthly plane, he can talk to mine and find out who murdered him.”

  “Uh…” It was the only thing Amanda could think of to say.

  “I don’t know your husband,” Charley protested. “How am I supposed to talk to him?”

  “You haven’t been doing this very long, have you?” Teresa asked. “You’re stuck at a very low level. You must have been a bad husband.”

  “I—” Charley stopped with his mouth open. His lips twisted and he tried again to form words, probably to deny he was a bad husband. “I—” He sighed and gave up the attempt. “I was a bad husband.”

  Amanda laughed. “He can’t lie anymore. It’s a terrible state for somebody who couldn’t tell the truth before.”

  Teresa compressed her lips and nodded. “He’s definitely at a really low level. But if you help me, I’ll help him move on to a higher plane.”

  “You will?” The feeling of sisterhood was growing. “You can help him move on?”

  “Of course. I can help him move into the light.” She shrugged. “I’m a psychic.”

  And she’d just become Amanda’s new best friend.

  Chapter Two

  After making plans to meet Teresa for dinner, Amanda and Charley continued into the police station.

  “She makes me feel almost real again because she can see me,” he said as they climbed the steps. “Of course you’re the most important person in my life and having you see me is what matters, but how would you feel if most people just looked right through you like you didn’t even exist?”

  Amanda was also thrilled that Teresa could see Charley but for a very different reason. Teresa had said she could help him move on, into the light. Divorces often took a long time, and the year since Amanda had filed for divorce from Charley wasn’t an unusually extensive period compared to some. Nevertheless, most people going through a divorce didn’t stay within a couple of hundred feet of each other twenty-four/seven.

  She stopped at the front desk where a young woman sat behind a bullet-proof partition. “Amanda Caulfield to see Detective Jake Daggett.”

  The receptionist smiled. “I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  “She smiled at me,” Charley said. “Maybe she can see me too.”

  “Thank you.” Amanda felt certain the woman could not see him, but she could be wrong. She’d been certain Teresa couldn’t see him.

  “I’m getting stronger. Pretty soon I may get my body back.” He waved at the young woman. “Hi! I’m Charley!”

  Without a glance in Charley’s direction, the receptionist dialed an extension.

  He sighed. “Maybe not everybody can see me just yet.”

  Maybe just Teresa. Maybe she really was a psychic. Amanda didn’t believe in psychics, but a few months ago, she hadn’t believed in ghosts.

  A door opened behind her, and Amanda turned to see Jake. His dark hair looked as if he’d been running his hands through it all morning. He probably had. His dark brown eyes gave him a dangerous look and Amanda knew from experience how intimidating he could be. But at the moment sparks glowed from the depths of those eyes, and his lips curved upward in a smile. She found her own lips responding.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi. Glad you could come by.”

  “No problem. Glad to help.”

  Charley darted between them and scowled. “Why don’t you two just get a room?”

  “Let’s find a conference room where we can go over these documents.” Jake lifted the folder he held in one hand.

  Amanda winced at his unconscious response to Charley’s snipe. She stepped around Charley to walk through the door Jake held open. Charley reached out as if to stop her. A chill shivered through her as she moved determinedly through his arm.

  When she brushed past Jake, even though they didn’t touch, she could feel the warmth of his body. A nice contrast to Charley’s chilliness.

  “Right over there.” Jake pointed with the folder.

  Amanda had first been to the station a few months ago as a suspect in Charley’s murder. Though her last couple of visits had involved meeting with Jake to give her statement on the recent kidnapping and murders, a much more positive experience than the first visit, she did not like being in the dismal interrogation rooms. They were all the same—rectangular with ugly rectangular furniture, and they were all creepy. Maybe
the ghosts of the guilty people who’d been grilled in those rooms lingered just out of sight. She’d have to ask Teresa if she’d seen any.

  She preceded Jake into the room, set helmet, gloves and keys on the scarred wooden top of the ugly rectangular table, and sat tentatively on one of the ugly wooden chairs. Charley sat beside her. He didn’t pull out the chair, of course, just sank through the table.

  Jake took a seat across from her and spread the contents of his file on the table. “If you could look over these, and if everything’s correct, sign above your name, then I’ll witness your signature.” He slid a couple of the documents toward her.

  Amanda scanned them, verified that everything was true to the best of her knowledge, and signed.

  Jake scrawled his signature below hers then put the papers back into his folder.

  Their meeting was over. A few minutes, a couple of pen strokes. Wasn’t that what he’d said when he called? But she felt irrationally disappointed. She wasn’t sure exactly what she’d thought might happen in the police substation, but this brief encounter wasn’t it.

  She started to rise from her chair, but Jake didn’t move. He studied her, his gaze intense, no longer sparkling. He cleared his throat. If it had been anybody other than the self-possessed cop, she’d have sworn Jake looked uncomfortable. That wasn’t possible, of course. Maybe he had gas.

  “So how are Dawson and his brother doing?” he asked. “Any problems with PTSD?”

  Amanda sat down again. “No. They’re fine. Actually, they seem more relaxed than before. I think being able to come out of hiding and not have to tell lies about who they are has been an enormous relief.”

  Jake nodded. “Good.” He clicked the end of his pen a couple of times. “And your mother? Is she doing okay?”

  “Which one?”

  Jake grinned, his features relaxing a little. She’d been right. He was uncomfortable. What was up with that? Was he going to tell her something she didn’t want to hear? Question her about…what? She hadn’t done anything illegal lately. “Both of them,” he said. “The redhead with the gun and the socialite with the Mercedes.”