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"Spirited Justice"


Prologue
Beauty, Brawn and Brains

By Begin Again

The pageant's allure masked a chilling reality in the glitzy world of Beauty, Brawn, and Brains, where beauty and strength met intellect on an international stage. Behind the glamorous facade and the breathtaking performances lay a series of sinister events that had unfolded over the years. Contestants disappeared without a trace, workers were found dead under mysterious circumstances, and even those who once celebrated the event became victims of an unseen threat. 

The deaths seemed inexplicable at first, but as the pattern emerged, the world suspected a more profound, more insidious force at play. The international community watched in horror, their questions unanswered and suspicions growing. 

At the heart of the turmoil was Lila Whitaker, a pageant contestant and a brilliant medical researcher. Her murder and the subsequent theft of her groundbreaking medical research cast a dark shadow over the event. Her work, which promised to revolutionize the medical field, vanished along with her life, leaving behind a trail of grief and unanswered questions. 

Thomas Whitaker, Lila's father, was imprisoned for reasons known only to him and those who had witnessed the unraveling of his life. His grief over his daughter's death fueled rumors that he might have orchestrated the chaos as part of his quest for vengeance. From his prison cell, his bitterness and obsession with the pageant's dark secrets were evident, but whether he had the means to enact such a grand scheme remained unknown. 

However, the whispers of his involvement were just one thread in a complex web of intrigue. The pageant's organizers, its elite promoters, and even rival contestants had secrets that could be connected to the string of murders. Each had their own motives and hidden connections, clarifying that Thomas Whitaker was not the only person with a possible agenda. 

As the investigation into Arthur Beckett's murder, a well-known pageant investor and lawyer, begins, the investigators will uncover the true extent of the pageant's dark history. The investigation will peel back layers of deceit, revealing a network of potential suspects and a conspiracy far more extensive than one man's vendetta. 

In the dazzling world of beauty and brains, the search for truth will navigate a labyrinth of deception, where the real culprits and their motives remain obscured in the shadows. The pageant's deadly legacy, a history of unexplained deaths and disappearances, will slowly come to light, challenging investigators to unravel a mystery steeped in danger and deceit. 

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti — Morgue Medical Examiner

Danielle "Danny" Delahanty - Spirited ghost detective

Eleanor Bennett - Beloved Ghost Advisor and sometimes detective

Matthew Donatelli - Disillusioned but experienced detective

Jenna Bradford - Journalist with an inside track

Naomi Henderson - Lawyer/ex-lover of Matthew Donatelli


Chapter 1
Murder on Fifth Avenue

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Detective Matthew Donatelli staggered into the morgue, where the potent smell of antiseptic hit him like a brick wall. His head throbbed with each step as he navigated the cold, sterile room illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights. After drowning his sorrows in a fifth of whiskey the night before, he was paying the price.

Dr. Rosa Galotti, with her tools spread across the metal cart, was about to begin the autopsy of the late Arthur Beckett, a distinguished lawyer. His body lay on the metal table, a nasty gash visible on his temple. She glanced up from her paperwork and raised an eyebrow at Matthew's disheveled appearance. "Rough night, Detective?"

Matthew managed an unintelligible grunt as he tried to focus his bloodshot eyes on the file in front of him. "Just another night," he mumbled as he rubbed his temples.

Adding to the detective's miserable morning, the morgue door creaked open, and in walked Danielle Mason, a vision straight out of a noir film. She twirled into the room in her vintage 1940s outfit — a knee-length navy-blue polka dot dress with a cinched waist, a small beret, and polished low-heeled shoes, exuding an air of morning freshness.

A song rolled off her tongue. "I'm singin' in the rain, just singin' in the rain." She twirled her umbrella with a practiced flair, scattering tiny water droplets everywhere like a dog shaking his fur.

"What a glorious feeling! I'm happy again. I'm laughin' at clouds, so dark up above."

Dr. Galotti's eyes widened, perplexed by the woman and her impromptu performance. "Uh, what on earth?"

"Good morning, everyone!" Danni exclaimed, striking a theatrical pose. "Hope I'm not too late for the party."

She closed her umbrella and offered an unapologetic smile. "Traffic was atrocious, and my coffee took a detour from cup to mouth." She glanced at the stain on her blouse but hastened on. "You really need a place to put these wet umbrellas." She quickly leaned it against the wall.

Rosa Galotti rolled her eyes at Danni's antics but couldn't suppress a smile. "I'm afraid the theater is one block down from this building. This is the Metropolitan Police Department Morgue."

"Forgive me. There wasn't time to change from my last gig." She studied her dress. "Though it leaves one feeling perky on a rainy day." Danni drifted closer to the autopsy table. "If you are Dr. Galotti, then I am in the right place, per my instructions."

"You are here for the autopsy?" Rosa's eyebrow shot up. She had her doubts this woman should be there, but Matthew was not contributing anything to help with the situation.

"My orders came on the fly, but I'm sure this is it." Danni proudly flashed her badge and smiled. "You've got something or someone for me to study under that sheet."

Rosa shook her head and replied, "I do. If Detective Donatelli would care to join us, I'll introduce you to Arthur Beckett. The doctor raised her voice, "Detective!"

Dr. Galotti's voice jarred Matthew back to reality. He opened his eyes and turned toward Danni. He squinted in confusion, and then recognition settled in, moaning, "Not you, again?"

Danni froze mid-step, and all thoughts of singing vanished from her head. She spun around. "Detective Donatelli! I wasn't aware —"

He glared at her and growled, "Neither was I."

Sparks of unresolved history crackled in the air. Any remnants of last night's fog lifted from Matthew's brain.

Danni recovered first. "Aren't you supposed to be solving the mysteries, not watching the action unfold at the end of a doctor's scalpel?"

Matthew raised an eyebrow. "Danielle Mason, quick with the snappy retorts as always. What brings you to our fair city?"

"Oh, you know, just trying to expand my horizons. And apparently, my tolerance for formaldehyde."

Dr. Rosa Galotti interrupted their exchange. "Since this is my morgue, would someone like to tell me who this young lady is and why she is dancing in my sanctuary?"

Matthew cleared his throat. "Sorry, Rosa. Let me introduce you. Please meet Danielle Mason."

"Danni! I prefer Danni." She glared at Matthew, then added, "Pleased to meet you, Dr. Galotti."

"Likewise, I am sure. Are you someone new to our staff? I don't recall seeing you before, though it's evident that our resident detective, with his glowing personality, is familiar with you."

"I've been here a time or two. I rotate between jobs, landing wherever my services are needed."

The doctor smiled. "That sounds interesting. I've never heard of rotating detectives. It must be something new."

"Quite new, actually. I think my grandmother's best friend was the first." She glanced at Matthew, wondering if he would enlighten the good doctor or if she should.

He inhaled sharply and moved toward the doctor's table. "Miss Mason —"

"Danni."

He shot her a look meant to stop her in her tracks. "You don't have to make this more difficult than it is."

"Me — difficult? You're so unkind. I never understood why Eleanor spoke so highly of you."

He mumbled some unintelligible words under his breath and then started again. "The department has had the pleasure of Danni working with us several times. Her — unique skills — have proven very helpful in solving a few cold cases."

"What he's dancing around — excuse the pun — is that I am a ghost."

Rosa's eyes widened. "A ghost? I know this isn't April Fool's Day, so what's the joke?"

"No joke." Danni pirouetted. "I'm an honest-to-goodness ghost."

All Detective Matthew Donatelli could do was moan.

Danni smiled at Rosa. "Not everyone can see me, but since the detective and I work so closely and you will be involved, I thought it might be beneficial to introduce myself."

"I work with dead people for a living. They don't talk to me, well, not verbally. We communicate physically."

"I'm different from your usual cadaver."

"So, after all my years as a professional medical examiner, you want me to believe I am now communicating with a dead person — a ghost?"

Sensing this conversation was swirling down the drain fast and furiously, Danni took matters into her own hands. She raised her finger, lifted the scalpel from the table, and floated it in front of the doctor. As Rosa's eyes flashed to Matthew, Danni disappeared, reappearing by Rosa's side. She shrugged. "I'm a ghost."

Wide-eyed, Dr. Galotti picked up her scalpel. "A ghost! Okay, sure. Why not?" Muttering to herself, she added, "This should be interesting."

Danni's eyes fell on Arthur Beckett's head. She winced at the sight of the gash. "Oh, how dreadful! Poor Arthur."

Rosa glanced at Danni, still unsure of what was happening. "After the first second, he didn't feel a thing."

"Not exactly what I had in mind for my first morning back."

Matthew smirked. "First time?"

"It's my first time at an autopsy, yes. But I've seen my fair share of—" Danni hesitated before saying bodies. "Well, let's just say I've had some wild science experiments."

"You sure you're up for this? Autopsies aren't exactly dinner party conversation."

Refusing to be shut down by Donatelli, Danni offered him an angelic smile. "It's a good thing I skipped breakfast. Besides, I dealt with worse. Have you ever dissected a frog in high school? This is just bigger, a less jumpy version."

He shrugged. "If you say so. Just try to keep your coffee down. Rosa doesn't like messes in her morgue."

Danni smirked. "Can't be too strict. She let you in, didn't she?" She grinned and added, "I'll do my best!"

As Dr. Galotti pulled back the sheet covering Arthur, Danni's eyes widened in horror, her hands flying to her mouth. "Oh, my stars!" she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave. "That is — well, I never — maybe —" Her eyes widened with shock. "In my day, women didn't see such things!"

Rosa stifled a laugh while the detective tried to suppress a grin. "Welcome to the modern world, Danni."

Donatelli grinned. "Can you put your eyes back in their sockets and show Rosa your unique skills?"

Visibly shaken, she composed herself and moved closer to examine the body. "Well, this is certainly — an experience," she said, her voice trembling slightly. She leaned in, scrutinizing the gash on Arthur's temple. "This wound — it's precise, almost too precise. It reminds me of something I saw during the war."

Rosa looked intrigued. "The war?"

Matthew, trying to bridge the gap, sputtered. "Danni means it's like wounds she saw when she studied the Vietnam War. Someone with surgical knowledge did this."

Rosa nodded. "A strong possibility. So, we're looking for someone with medical expertise."

"Given Arthur's prominence, it must be someone who had access to him, someone he trusted."

The morgue door swung open, sending Danni's umbrella clattering to the floor. Three pairs of eyes turned toward the noise.

Danni vanished from sight, sensing Naomi's presence and knowing she needed to stay hidden. She floated invisibly, watching the interaction closely.

Naomi Henderson entered the room with an air of unshakeable confidence. Her impeccably tailored suit and cool demeanor drew the tension in the room tighter.

"Matthew," Naomi greeted him with a curt nod.

"Naomi," Matthew replied, his tone flat.

Her eyes focused on the body on the table. "Poor Arthur. What a tragedy."

"Ms. Henderson," Matthew said, "you were still in contact with Mr. Beckett?"

Naomi's gaze turned to the body on the table. "Yes, since they dropped all charges in his case, he remained at the firm."

Danni, invisible and hovering near Naomi, whispered to Matthew, "She's hiding something."

Dr. Rosa Galotti interjected, her voice steady. "Ms. Henderson, when was the last time you saw Arthur?"

"Last week," Naomi responded coolly. "He was preparing for an important case and was under a lot of stress."

Rosa's gaze narrowed as she continued, "Stress is one thing, but it doesn't explain a precise gash to the temple."

Naomi's face remained impassive. "Of course, Doctor. Just stating the facts."

"Then, Ms. Henderson, do you have any insights into why someone would want to murder Arthur Beckett?" Matthew pressed.

Naomi's eyes met Matthew's, her expression carefully controlled. "Detective, that's your job, isn't it? But my first guess might include you."

"We must be auditioning for a comedy hour today." Matthew snarled and walked away, putting space between him and Naomi. "If you have any information that might help, it would be appreciated."

Danni floated closer to Naomi, her ghostly form nearly brushing against her, mumbling in her head. "Something doesn't add up here."

Naomi felt a chill, and her gaze flickered briefly toward Danni's invisible presence but quickly returned to her composed mask. "I'll leave the investigation to you, Detective. If you need anything from me, you know where to find me."

"Of course — you were still rooming with Arthur, weren't you?"

Naomi turned away with a huff, her back stiffening as she walked toward the door.

Matthew muttered, "We're not done yet."

Naomi's sharp retort carried over her shoulder, "Oh yes, we are!"

After Naomi left, Rosa glanced at her vacant spot. "What was that about?"

Danni reappeared, her expression stern. "I don't trust her. She's hiding something."

Matthew rubbed his temples, feeling his unresolved past with Naomi. "We have history, Naomi and me. Let's just say our past was very — intense."

Rosa raised an eyebrow. "Intense? Do I need to worry about this becoming a soap opera?"

Matthew sighed. "Let's stay focused on the case. Naomi is a professional. Whatever happened between us won't affect the investigation."

Danni's gaze softened. "Matthew, if you need my help, I'm here."

Matthew nodded. "Thanks, but no thanks. I don't need you messing with my relationships. Let's dig deeper into Arthur's life and see what we can uncover."

Danni's ghostly presence shimmered with resolve. "I'm ready to work." Her mental notes included the verbal battlefield between Matthew and Naomi and her history with the deceased.

As Rosa began the autopsy, Matthew and Danni exchanged looks. The case was just beginning with no leads, and they would need every bit of Danni's ghostly insight and Matthew's detective skills to unravel the mystery of Arthur Beckett's death.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner

Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective

Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor

Matthew Donatelli -- Detective

Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant

Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer / ex-lover of Donatelli -


Chapter 2
When Trouble Knocks Chap 2

By Begin Again

Matthew tried to slip away while Danni exchanged a few words with Rosa so her silent approach caught him off-guard.

"Aren't we in a hurry? Are we trying to catch up with Ms. Henderson?" Danni's form materialized at Matthew's side as he stepped into the elevator.

"I thought you were chatting with the good doctor. How'd you catch me so fast?" Matthew pushed the button as Danni leaned against the back wall.

"The perks of being me! You know, now you see me, now you don't." Danni chuckled. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to leave me behind."

"I wasn't. I have work to do. We have a murder victim in the morgue."

"So, it wasn't Ms. Henderson you were worried about?"

"Why would I worry about her? I don't know how she found out about Bennett being in the morgue. It's not like he was found in her apartment or anything."

Danni mulled over this for a moment. "Where was he murdered?"

"Outside the rear door of Bayside's Metropolitan Museum of Art."

"In an alley? Isn't it odd for someone like him to use the back entrance? Are there any cameras?"

"The one outside the door wasn't working, but the team is checking for other cameras in the area."

Danni nodded thoughtfully. "So, what's the story with you and Naomi?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but we had a brief relationship."

"You mean an affair? It must have been brief. It hasn't been that long since my last visit."

"Not brief enough." Matthew sighed.

"Touchy!" Danni smirked. "Fine, then what about our deceased and your ex?"

"She represented him in a case a few months ago and won. His wife filed for a divorce and is leaving him with hefty alimony payments."

"Were you involved in the case?"

Matthew sighed, wiping his forehead. "Yes. I was convinced he was guilty, but she found a technicality to get him off."

"What was the technicality?" Danni pressed, sensing this was important to the case.

"Some crucial evidence was thrown out," Matthew replied curtly.

"Evidence you gathered?" Danni's gaze sharpened. "What was wrong with it?"

"I found it in Naomi's house."

"You went into her house without permission and found this evidence?" Danni frowned. "So, you broke into her place?"

"No! It wasn't like that." Matthew's frustration was palpable.

"Okay, instead of me pulling teeth, just tell me what it was like."

Matthew took a deep breath. "We went out for dinner at Manzutto's. She invited me back to her place for a nightcap, and... one thing led to another. I spent the night. In the morning, I was looking for a razor in the bathroom dresser and found Bennett's bank statements. Hefty sums were deposited in his account twice a month, and he was transferring it to an offshore account."

"Hiding it from his wife?"

"I wasn't sure. A red flag went up because, as far as I could tell, it wasn't money from the law firm."

"Hmm. Now you've got my attention. So why was it deemed inadmissible?"

"Because Naomi said it was an illegal search. She denied she had invited me to stay overnight and claimed I got her drunk so I could search her place for evidence on her client."

"And did you?"

"And did I what? Get her drunk? She did that all on her own while putting on a strip show for me. Nothing was planned. It just happened."

The elevator stopped on the second floor. Matthew exited, alone to any onlookers, but Danni swooped ahead, claiming his office chair and sifting through a stack of papers on his desk.

As Matthew closed the door behind him, she spoke. "It took you long enough. You're moving slower these days, are you?"

Matthew spun around, eyes scanning the room. Danni was nowhere to be seen.

She chuckled. "I'm over here in your office chair, which, by the way, needs to be replaced. It feels like I'm sitting on a board with no padding."

"It suits me. I tend not to hang around the office that way," he snarled. "I'm doing just fine, so why did they send you here?"

"I don't have all the details, only that Beckett's murder is just the tip of the iceberg."

"Such as?"

"Now, Donatelli, you and I know it's our job to investigate and uncover the truth. So, shove your attitude in a drawer somewhere, and let's get to work."

"Get out of my chair!" Donatelli rounded the desk and asked, "Is it safe?"

"Yes, Master! You can have your stupid chair."

Matthew sat, sighed, and opened a desk drawer, pretending to shove his temper into it, and closed it, turning the key. "Satisfied?"

Meanwhile, Danni had closed the blinds on the interior windows, blocking out the other offices and allowing her to materialize again. "Perfect!" She smiled, pushed aside a stack of papers, and perched on the corner of the desk.

"That's what chairs are made for," he snapped, quickly adding with an exaggerated smile, "But if you're comfortable."

Danni smiled. "Just checking if the attitude was in the drawer."

Matthew chuckled despite himself. "So, what's our next move?"

Danni leaned in, her expression serious. "We need to follow the money trail. Those bank statements you found might lead us to the killer."

"Agreed. And we need to keep a close eye on Naomi. If she was involved with Beckett, she might know more than she's letting on."

Danni nodded. "I'll start looking into his financials and see if I can trace any suspicious transactions. You keep digging into Naomi's connections. There has to be something we're missing."

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Why don't you take Naomi?"

"Because you know her and can get closer than I can. Just don't make it too close."

"I assure you that's not going to happen." He ran his hands through his hair. "This case just keeps getting more complicated."

"That's why they sent me," Danni said with a wink. "To help you untangle this mess."

Matthew couldn't help but smile. "Yeah, you run with that. I think they don't know what to do with you, so they keep dumping you in my lap."

Danni frowned. "Funny!"
*****

"It's not my day," Naomi muttered as she pushed through the Metropolitan Police Department's double doors. "First, Donatelli and Bennett, and now it's raining."

She hadn't expected Donatelli to be at the morgue so early, considering she knew how he spent his nights lately. Finding him there had rattled her, something that rarely happened to her.

As she hurried down the steps, the hair on her neck bristled. Suddenly, she had the eerie sensation that someone was watching her. Her eyes darted around the square but saw no one.

Her mind raced as she hailed a cab. Slamming the door as she climbed in, her eyes met the cabbie's stare in the rearview mirror. "Where to?"

"Lancaster and Rural," she replied, giving her office address. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, still feeling eyes on her. "Actually, no. Take me to Number 12, Eagle Plaza instead."

The cabbie nodded and changed direction. As they drove through the city's bustling streets, Naomi's eyes darted to every shadow and alleyway. She scrutinized every passenger in cabs that stopped near hers. She couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up to her apartment building. The towering structure was sleek and modern, with reflective glass and a minimalist design. She hurried through the marble-floored lobby, barely nodding to the doorman as she rushed to the elevator. The ride to the tenth floor seemed to take forever, the soft music doing nothing to calm her nerves.

When the door glided open to her floor, she almost ran down the hallway to her door, fumbling with her keys in her haste. Once inside, she locked the door behind her, double-checking the deadbolt. Leaning against the door, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart.

Her apartment reflected her status as a high-powered attorney. It was spacious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city skyline. Tastefully decorated with modern art pieces and sleek, contemporary furniture, the open-plan living area enhanced the apartment's aesthetic appeal. A grand piano stood in one corner, untouched for months, while shelves lined with legal books and awards showcased her achievements.

Tossing her suit jacket aside, she moved to the bookshelf lined with law journals and art books. She scanned the journals until she found the one she wanted. She tipped it forward, and the shelf clicked open, revealing a secret door to a small office with high-end computers and surveillance equipment.

As she gathered some papers, a voice from the doorway startled her. "Long time no see, Naomi."

Naomi whirled around, her heart pounding. A man she recognized all too well stood there, his presence sending a chill down her spine. "How did you get in here?" she demanded, her voice shaking.

The man smiled coldly, stepping closer. "Naomi, I'm offended. You were so much friendlier the last time we met."

"What do you want?" She stepped away, keeping some distance between them.

"We need to talk about Bennett and the mess you've gotten yourself into."

"What mess? I had nothing to do with Arthur's death.

"Maybe, maybe not, but I think you know more about it than you're willing to share. Is that why you were at the police department earlier? Did you clear your conscience with your friend?"

"Leave Donatelli out of this. I wouldn't tell him anything, and you should know that." Naomi sneered at him. "For that matter, why would I tell you anything if I knew what Bennett was involved in?"

"Don't play dumb, Naomi. We both know you're smarter than that," he replied, stepping closer. "I have my reasons for being interested in Bennett's dealings. And I know you were involved in something — unsavory."

She glared at him, fear mingling with anger. "What are you talking about?"

Her visitor pulled a small, leather-bound notebook from his pocket, flipping it open to reveal handwritten notes and a photograph. "I came across this while digging into Bennett's background. This notebook has details about a weekend in Mexico years ago. I know you were there. And I know things went terribly wrong."

Naomi's breath caught. She had tried to leave that part of her life behind, but it seemed it was catching up. "What do you want from me?" she asked again, more quietly this time.

"I want to know everything you know about Bennett's activities," he said, his tone serious.

Naomi laughed. "You're the one with the connections. You should know more than me."

Her visitor grinned. "I wasn't sleeping with him. Men tend to talk when they're in bed."

"He wasn't in my bed!" Naomi snapped. "I was simply helping a co-worker, nothing else."

The man reached into his shirt pocket and tossed a 4x6 photograph on the table. "That's not what this says."

Naomi gasped, and her face turned red with anger. "I swear I didn't sleep with Arthur."

"Then explain the picture. It sure looks like you and Bennett are having a good ole time."

"It's a fake!" Naomi grabbed the photo and stared at it. It was a picture of her in bed with Bennett. "Where did you get it? I don't know how someone made this, but it didn't happen."

"You'll have a hard time convincing anyone otherwise." His menacing tone sent chills down her spine.

Naomi ripped the picture into pieces. "It's a lie, and you know it. You're just trying to back me into a corner."

"Not me, but somebody is. And I'm sure that wasn't the only copy either."

"I want to know who gave it to you?" To prove her defiance, Naomi turned her back on her visitor. "If you want anything from me, you will have to give me something in return. Who's behind this?"

His fingers caressed her neck. "I've got a lot to give —" She jerked away.

A woman's voice rang out from the kitchen. "Miss Naomi. It's Claudia. Are you home?"

It was Tuesday, and Claudia was scheduled to clean the apartment. Naomi was usually gone, but today was different.

Her eyes flared, and she inhaled sharply. "She can't see you here."

"Go talk to her. I'll leave by the front door. Just keep her occupied." He didn't wait for her answer, but he stopped when he reached the bedroom door. "Don't think this is over. I'll be back."

Naomi slumped against the desk, catching her breath, telling herself now was not the time to weaken. Claudia's call reminded her she was supposed to be headed to the kitchen.

 

Author Notes
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner

Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective

Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor

Matthew Donatelli -- Detective

Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant

Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer / ex-lover of Donatelli -


Chapter 3
Spirited Justice Chap 3

By Begin Again

At two a.m., Jenna entered her home, dropped her keys on the table, shut off her phone, and collapsed across her bed, shutting out the world. The dark, ominous clouds outside her window matched her weary body. She needed sleep.
 
Now, less than three hours later, something in her journalistic mind had wakened her.
 
Jenna moaned and rolled over in bed, her blurry eyes straining to see the clock. Another agonizing groan escaped her mouth. It was five fifteen. "Oh, Jenna, go back to sleep."

A late-night dinner with pageant investors had turned into a long night of questions and few answers. While attending a golf outing, Pam Hinsley, the wife of a local software mogul, heard rumors about several murders and scandals connected to the pageant over the past five years. Once she shared her concerns, the table conversation became a frenzied output of suggestions that stretched from canceling the pageant to modifying it and a few doubting Thomases refusing to put any stock in any of it.
 
Jenna fumbled for her phone on the nightstand, finally grasping it and squinting at the screen. She dialed her assistant's number, expecting to leave a message.

On the first ring, a young, trembling voice answered. "Museum of Fine Arts. This is Emily speaking."

"Emily, it's Jenna. What in the world are you doing there so early? I had planned on leaving you a message."

"Jenna! Oh my God, Jenna!" Emily's voice was high-pitched and frantic. "I've been calling you for hours. Something terrible has happened."

Jenna yawned. "Calm down, Emily. I'm sure it's not that horrible."

"It is! Arthur Bennett is dead. Police say it was murder. Right here outside our back door."

Jenna's heart stopped. "What? Arthur murdered! It can't be!" She swung her legs over the side of the bed so she was in an upright position. Her mind was racing with thoughts ranging from who, how, and why to how it would affect the pageant.

"There are police everywhere. Anyone who was here last night has been called in. Everyone is freaked out. It's horrible, Jenna. You've got to come in right away." Emily's words tumbled out in a panicked rush.

"Do you know who is in charge of the investigation?"

"Yes, it's Detective Donatelli, and he's asked me three times why you aren't here." Emily sniffled. "He's not in the best of moods."

"He never is lately. Don't let him get to you, Emily." A wave of dread replaced her fatigue. "I'll be there in thirty minutes." She ended the call and buried her head in her hands. Her worst nightmare had just come true.

Undressing, she stepped into the shower and screamed, "What the heck?" Her old water heater had chosen that very moment to stop working, and the water was ice cold. She lathered up at the sink and then bit the bullet by rinsing off with cold water. By the time she'd finished, all thoughts of sleep were gone, and her head was clear.

With chattering teeth, she dressed while her mind raced back to dinner last night. Pan Hinsley's words echoed in her mind. Had someone at that table known more than they were letting on? Was Arthur's murder a random killing, or was it somehow part of a darker picture?

Grabbing her briefcase, Jenna knew she would wear two hats today. As a journalist, she needed to write the whole truth behind the murder, and as a pageant coordinator, she had to keep the event afloat amidst the chaos. As the door slammed behind her, she shoved the thought of Matthew Donatelli out of her mind, focusing on how everyone else must be feeling.

*****

As Jenna rushed up the steps to the front of the art museum, the glaring signs of a crime scene disrupted the usually stately atmosphere. The museum's grand facade, with its classical columns and intricate carvings, appeared to shrink into the background as law enforcement took center stage. Several police cars parked haphazardly outside in the early morning light, their flashing lights casting a red and blue glow across the marble steps.

Inside, the sounds of official activity filled the ordinarily quiet and reverent galleries. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across doorways, and forensic teams moved carefully among the art pieces, documenting evidence and taking photographs.

Emily, visibly shaken by the ongoing events, waited by the entrance with a look of concern. She hurried over to Jenna as she entered, holding two large cups of coffee.

"Oh, Jenna, I'm so glad you are here." She took Jenna's briefcase and handed her the steaming cups.

Jenna smiled at her assistant. "You are a blessing, Emily. Thanks for thinking of the peace offerings."

"I remembered it was his favorite, so I hurried outside to the vendor and got two cups. Anything to appease the lion!"

Jenna suppressed a chuckle at Emily's description of the detective. "His growl is much worse than his bite."

"You could have fooled me. He's in your office," Emily muttered.

"Thanks for thinking of coffee, Emily. I know I sure need it, too." Jenna thought momentarily and added, "Because I won't be waving any white flag."

Emily winced as she watched her boss hurry toward the elevator. She felt like she'd just sent Daniel into the lion's den, and the outcome might not be good.

Jenna made her way through the busy museum, past the flurry of activity, preparing to face Donatelli. The elevator ride gave her a few moments to prepare for Matthew's unpleasantness, something she didn't understand. When she'd first met him, he'd seemed more vivid, almost with a little devil-may-care attitude, but recently, he had become sullen and difficult.

When the elevator reached the third floor, she stepped off and hurried down the hall to her corner office, a place she usually considered her safe zone, but not this morning.

As she opened her office door, she immediately felt a subtle chill. Though the room was warm, the cool sensation was unmistakable.

Donatelli sat behind Jenna's desk, rummaging through some papers she had left there. He didn't look up nor pretend that he wasn't snooping. Instead, he greeted her with a snarl, "Nice of you to join us, Ms. Mason."

Jenna refused to take the bait. "If I'd known there was going to be a murder or that you would rifle through my desk, I'd have made better plans."

"I'm not —"

"Yes, you were, Matthew." Jenna handed him the coffee and put hers on the desk. "Here, drink this. Maybe it will help your spirits."

"I don't take bribes. And there's nothing wrong with my spirits."

"It's not a bribe." Jenna glanced around the room. "So, you've brought company with you."

Donatelli's eyes finally met hers. "Just a few dozen law enforcement officers. It is a crime scene."

Jenna chuckled. "I was referring to your nemesis."

"My nemesis? I don't know what you are talking about, Jenna."

"Okay, play it cool if you must, but I know Danni is here."

A soft giggle came from the corner by the window, followed by Danni's voice: "I told you she'd know I was here."

Donatelli turned his head toward the window and an invisible Danni, who perched atop Jenna's credenza. He spoke in a low but threatening voice, reminding her of the golden rule when they were in public. "Not seen or heard."

"You're being such a snot-nose today, Matthew." Danni remained invisible but continued to talk, "Forgive him, Jenna. We were at Bennett's reveal this morning when his lady friend dropped in. It wasn't a pretty sight."

"His lady friend. I must have missed out on that one." Jenna raised an eyebrow. "Matthew, are you dating again?"

"Not that it's any of your business or hers, but no, I am not. Now, can we discuss the murder instead of my life?"

"Of course, but I doubt I can shed any light on the case." Jenna drank the steamy brew.

"Your calendar indicated you had a meeting with Bennett last night."

"Hmmm. You weren't snooping, but you know what's on my calendar. If you'd read further in the addendum notes at the bottom of the page, you'd have discovered it changed to a dinner meeting with several investors, including Bennett, which is exactly where I was until two this morning." Jenna sipped her coffee before continuing, "Bennett was not there."

"What can you tell me about him?"

He's a significant investor in the pageant world. I'm not privy to why he didn't attend or why he was at the art museum. I don't recall any meetings he needed to attend."

"Any possibility that he was thinking of backing out of his investment?"

"No, on the contrary, he seemed eager to be more involved. I've seen him talking with staff and the participants every day. From what my assistant tells me, he's even been mentoring a few of them; after all, he has been involved with the pageant since its beginning." Jenna glanced toward the window and smiled, not saying a word, but knowing Danni knew she was happy to know she was here. She turned to the detective and sighed. "You going to drink that coffee or just let it get cold?"

The detective pushed the chair away from the desk, pulled his lanky frame upright, and snarled, "I've got work to do." However, he took his coffee with him as he left the office.

Jenna called after him, "Try to have a good day, Matthew," and closed the door behind him.

She faced the window. "I didn't know you were working here again."

"Neither did I until this morning. I was ripped off the stage in a small theater in England and transplanted into the Metropolitan Police Department's morgue. How's that for transatlantic flights?" Danni giggled. "Especially when he'd been having a late night with the bottle again."

"I haven't seen much of Matthew since Eleanor left. What's going on with him?"

"I don't know the entire scoop, but it's something to do with his lawyer friend, Naomi Henderson. You should have seen the sparks fly when she arrived at the morgue."

"Naomi Henderson. I vaguely remember writing a story about her. She represented a guy in court and got him off on a technicality or something."

"She sure did. It was Arthur Bennett, and Matthew says he had the guy, but she accused him of an illegal search."

"Wow! Accusing Matthew of screwing up and then getting the case kicked out." Jenna grinned. "Doesn't sound like a plan to make friends with our detective."

"It gets worse. He was enjoying some physical exercise with the lady at the time if you know what I mean."

"Matthew was sleeping with Naomi? Oh, brother! No wonder he's a grouch."

"Well, I have to work with him. Speaking of that, I suppose I should see what he's up to now. Maybe I'll see you later." Danni laughed. "Before you see me!"

Jenna grinned. "I got your joke, Danni. Now go and stay out of trouble."

The coolness left the room; then, suddenly, it was there again.

"Danni, did you come back? Is something wrong?" Jenna could sense a presence before she heard the voice.

"No, Jenna, darling, it's not Danni."

"Mother! What on earth are you doing back in Bayside? Not that I'm not thrilled to hear from you, but I thought you and Dad were enjoying time together."

"We are, but I got word that things were going to get rocky around here, and I asked to come. You know, I love you, but I also worry about Danni. She doesn't always take her job seriously, and Matthew needs to count on her now."

"I know you can't predict the future, but should I be worried about the pageant?"

Eleanor hesitated as she considered her answer. "I can say you need to be careful because the pageant isn't what it appears to be. Sinister people are lurking in the background."

"And you can't give me a clue. A man is dead!" Jenna pleaded.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can only help and try to lead you away from the danger. Matthew will be Danni's problem."

Jenna sighed. "Looks like he's going to need a lot of coffee."

She sank into her chair, contemplating Eleanor's warnings, as the coolness left the room, but not before a gentle breeze touched Jenna's cheek, and she heard a soft "goodbye."

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner

Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective

Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor

Matthew Donatelli -- Detective

Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant

Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer / ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend and enemy of Naomi


Chapter 4
Spirited Justice Chap 4

By Begin Again

As Jenna made her way through the museum, she stopped to offer support and answer questions to the staff and participants, knowing how traumatic the situation was to everyone.
Spotting Sophia with her guide dog, Max, she hastened to her side. "Sophia, I didn't expect to see you and Max here, especially today."

"It's okay, Jenna." She inhaled and smiled. "You're wearing that perfume I love. It reminds me of my mother baking cookies with lots of vanilla."

Jenna laughed. "It's Lamonde Creme Vanilla, my favorite. You're very smart to recognize me by my perfume."

"Guess it's one of the perks of being blind. My other senses kick in."

Jenna bent and rubbed Max's head. "Hi, boy! Are you taking good care of Sophia? It's kind of scary in here today."

"We're not afraid, Jenna. Sad that someone died, but it happens in life, right?"

"Yes, unfortunately, it does, but I was concerned you might feel overwhelmed by memories about Lila."

"She's always with me, but I know she's happy where she's at. She wouldn't want me to stop living."

"I agree. But I want you to be careful and keep Max by your side at all times. You'll promise me that, okay?"

"Not to worry. He never leaves me." Sophia patted her dog's head. "He's my eyes."

Jenna said her goodbyes and continued on her rounds while Sophia and Max headed to their secret place.

"Good morning, Sophia and Max." Trixie, a newbie wardrobe assistant, stopped pushing her rack of costumes and patted Max. She lowered her voice and whispered, "Have you heard what's going on? It's really creepy knowing a murder happened outside our doors."

Sophia nodded. "Yeah, Max and I are just trying to stay out of the way." She'd heard the wheels of the rack Trixie was pushing, so she quickly asked, "Any new costumes?"

"Sure, would you like to check them out?"

Sophia's face lit up with excitement. "I couldn't think of anything I'd rather do right this minute. Do you have the time?"

"Of course, I do, especially with all the confusion happening, nobody's looking for costumes." Trixie scanned the costumes and chose a soft velvet one. "Let me guide your hands. This one is an evening gown. It is a luxurious deep purple velvet with silver sequins across the bodice.

Sophia ran her hand across the fabric and then up toward the neckline. "It's so soft, Trixie. The girl wearing it will swoon."

Trixie picked another one. "This is much more elaborate. It has lace and beadwork. Here, feel the detail." She guided Sophia's hands over the delicate lace and beadwork. Sophia's fingers traced the patterns, feeling the texture.

"Wow, the detail is incredible. What color is this one?"

"It's a pastel pink with dark pink beads. It's designed for a fairy-tale theme." Trixie placed it back on the rack and checked for any others that Sophia would enjoy. "Oh, you have to feel this one, Sophia. It's made of satin, and it shimmers under the lights."

Sophia's fingers glided across the cool, smooth texture, and she sighed. "It must be beautiful. It feels so elegant. What color is it?"

Trixie's eyes lit up. "It's my favorite. The vibrant emerald green matches my eyes. It will be stunning under the lights."

"Thank you, Trixie. That was awesome, but I know you have work to do, and Max and I shouldn't stop you. We'll see you later."

Trixie laughed. "It's never a problem, Sophia. I love knowing you love the costumes as much as I do, even if you can't see them. But you're right, my luck, someone is looking for these, so I better go. See you later."

After walking through the museum a short way, Max abruptly stopped, putting Sophia on full alert. "What's wrong, boy?"

The dog's ears perked up, and he began sniffing. Sophia listened, hoping she could tune into whatever Max was sensing. She thought she heard a muffled cry but wasn't sure. Max tugged gently, wanting to move forward, so Sophia followed.

As they moved among the stacks of crates and boxes, Sophia could hear the crying better. "Hello! Is someone here?"

Max yelped and moved Sophia closer to a few boxes. Finding a girl, he nudges her hand.
She sniffled and mumbled, "Please, leave me alone."

Kneeling beside Max, Sophia reached out and touched the girl's arm. "It's okay. I'm Sophia and this is my guide dog, Max. We just want to help."

"No, just go away."

"If I do, someone else is just going to hear you crying like we did. I know a quiet place to go. Please, let me take you there. You're upset and maybe need a friend."

Hilda looked up, wiping away her tears. She hiccupped as she spoke, "The police, especially the detective, scared me. He asked so many questions."

"That was probably Detective Donatelli. He's having a bad day and not being very nice. Come with me, and we'll go somewhere he won't find us."

Hilda nodded and stood up. "My name is Hilda." She looked at Max and then Sophia. "You're blind! How do you get around this place? I have a difficult time."

"I've been here a lot. Max is an excellent seeing-eye dog and my best friend."

*****

"What is this place?" Hilda asked as she looked around the room.
 
"It was my aunt's dressing room years ago," Sophia explained. "But she —" Sophia hesitated, not wanting to upset Hilda with a mention of her aunt's murder. "She passed away. Over time, it became a storage area. Now it's my hideaway."
 
Soft, muted light from a single overhead bulb cast a warm glow over the room. The walls were painted in a subdued, neutral color. Above a worn-out couch, a slightly faded framed picture of Lila, Sophia's aunt, captured her radiant smile.
 
In the corner stood an antique dressing table with a few items from Lila's past — an old jewelry box, a nearly empty perfume bottle, and a stack of handwritten notes. Sophia had added a soft throw blanket to the couch for comfort. Nearby, overstuffed boxes held various dusty costumes and accessories.
 
Discarded posters, props, and pageant paraphernalia were stacked from floor to ceiling near the front of the room, leaving a narrow walkway for access to Sophia's secret place.
 
Smiling, Sophia said, "I don't mind sharing. This can be your quiet place, too, whenever you need to collect your thoughts."
 
Hilda joined Sophia on the couch. "Thank you. I didn't know where to go. I just wanted to hide."
 
Sophia's eyes softened with understanding. She could feel Hilda's distress, her own heart aching for her friend. "All of this because the detective asked you questions?"
 
"Yes—no—oh, it's just that I'm worried about my brother. My parents sent him to watch over me, but now I think he's in big trouble."
 
"Why? Did he do something wrong?"
 
"The police are questioning him."
 
"About the murder?" Sophia gasped, her eyes widening in shock.
 
"Yes, but he didn't do it. I know Klaus. He was angry with Bennett, but he wouldn't kill him. They argued, that's all."
 
"Do you mind me asking why he was angry?" Sophia's voice was gentle, but her curiosity was piqued. There was more to this story than Hilda was letting on.
 
Hilda dropped her head, unable to look at Sophia. She mumbled, "Because of me."
 
"I don't understand, Hilda. What does he have to do with you?"
 
"I'm so ashamed. I didn't want to be sent home without competing, but he said he would make sure it happened if I didn't do what he asked." Hilda mumbled, "He's a powerful man."

Confused, Sophia asked, "What did he want you to do, Hilda?"

Tears streamed down Hilda's face. "He touched me and made me do terrible things."

Sophia gasped and pulled Hilda into her arms. "Oh, Hilda, how awful. You need to tell the police." Tears streamed down her face as well.

"No! I can't." Hilda's body trembled. "I told Klaus, and now they think he killed him. If the detective finds out I lied, who knows what will happen? Klaus will go to jail for something he didn't do, and I will be sent home."

Max pushed his muzzle against Hilda's leg, giving comfort in his way, too. The three of them sat silently for a few minutes as the girls regained their composure.

An alarm on Hilda's watch brought everyone to attention. She shut it off and stood. "I'm expected to report to the committee in fifteen minutes, so I better go. Thank you, Sophia. You've been so kind."

"Remember, you can always come back, even if I'm not here. It's a quiet place to rewind."

"Thank you. I will." Hilda ruffled Max's fur. "You're such a good dog. Now take care of her."

"Don't worry. He always does."

Hilda hugged Sophia and said goodbye before she hurried out the door. Sophia heard the bell and knew she was gone.

*****
Sophia sat on the sofa with Max by her side, wondering how she could help Hilda. She certainly didn't want to be responsible for getting her sent home, nor did she want to sit idly by while her brother was sent to jail. She raised her arm above the couch, letting her fingers touch the wall until she found Lila's picture. She lifted it from its hook and clasped it to her chest.

"Lila, I miss you so much. I can't believe this is happening again. Another murder and maybe a family member being unjustly accused. I don't know what to do."

A gentle, almost imperceptible chill filled the air. Max's low growl warned her that someone was there, but she hadn't heard the door, which was odd, especially since she'd put a tiny bell above it, a warning when it opened.

"Who's there?" Sophia listened for a sign but didn't hear anything.

Max left Sophia's side and moved forward, sniffing the air. Eleanor's hand ruffled his hair, calming him. "Good boy, Max. I just want to talk to Sophia, okay?"

Wagging his tail, he returned to the girl's side.

"Hello, Sophia. My name is Eleanor. Please don't be afraid," she said in a voice that seemed to wrap around Sophia like a warm blanket.

Sophia tilted her head slightly, her expression cautious but curious. "How did you find me? I didn't hear the door open."

Eleanor's soft voice soothed Sophia's nerves. "I have my ways," she said mysteriously. She moved closer to Sophia. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Ghosts? You mean like the ones at Halloween?"

"Not exactly. Those kinds can be quite scary, but there are some who are simply here to help. That's the kind I am."

"You're — a ghost?"

"I'm here to help, and it seems your friend needs help urgently."

"Hilda? Were you listening to us?" Sophia didn't know how to respond to such blatant eavesdropping.

"I was, but in a grandmotherly way. I wanted to help. I think we can do something to ease her fears."

"We, meaning you and me. But how?"

"It will require some trust on your part. Do you think you can do that?" Eleanor gave Sophia time to think about what she'd said.

"Well, Max let you in, and he's a pretty good judge of character, so I guess I can trust you too. But what can a ghost do?"

"Detective Donatelli —"

"I don't want anything to do with that man. He's not nice."

"Actually, he has a heart of gold, but he's struggling right now with a few problems of his own. He doesn't mean to be so abrupt and mean."

"I don't know about that. I've seen him in action, and it comes fairly easy to him."

"You do want to help Hilda, right?"

"Yes, of course I do."

"Then, I ask you to trust me. I will arrange a meeting with the detective. If you want, I'll be there."

"I want! Don't leave me in a room alone with that man, because I can't promise what Max might do."

Eleanor reached out and whispered in Max's ear. His paw patted the air and then moved closer to Sophia, nuzzling her leg. "I think Max is giving his okay."

Sophia laughed. "I think you are right. I'll meet with him, but only if you are there."

"We can do that. Let me talk to him, and then I'll let you know when he can arrange the time. I promise he will be on his best behavior."

"Is that possible?"

"It is. He just needs some encouragement and I'm the person to do that. Now I better go. You get some rest, and I'd stay clear of the pageant area for the rest of the day."

"Don't worry. I've had enough excitement. Max and I will stay right here."

The chill left the room, and Sophia sensed she was gone. She found Lila's picture and spoke to it, "Lila, was Eleanor a sign? Did you send me a ghost?"

She pulled the throw across her legs and rested her head against the arm of the couch, drifting into a restful sleep.

Author Notes Thanks to everyone who reached out to me regarding the missing three chapters. Thankfully this one was sitting in my portfolio and waiting for me to post. At this time, the others are somewhere in computer heaven... lost to me. The trials of getting old... or maybe it's just that mistakes happen.


Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner

Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective

Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor

Matthew Donatelli -- Detective

Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant

Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer / ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher


Chapter 5
Spirited Justice Chap 5

By Begin Again

The precinct was unusually quiet, with only a handful of officers lingering at their desks. A few more filed out, their shift over, leaving the place almost deserted.

Donatelli waved good night to one of the other detectives and leaned back in his chair. "Looks like it's going to be a late night for you and me, kid. You like Chinese, right? Hope so, because that's what I ordered."

The scent of burnt coffee was faint in the air. "Chinese is good as long as you don't wolf it all down." Danni wrinkled her nose. "When will anyone remember to shut off that coffee pot so it doesn't burn? I can't stand the smell."

"Remind you of anything? Hell, maybe?" Donatelli smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "That's why my coffee comes from across the street." He leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. "I probably could use some of that steamy mojo right now."

A sudden knock on the outer door, followed by the delivery man's voice, echoed across the room, "Chinese Takeout for Donatelli."

A lone voice called out, "Hey, Donatelli, you order enough for me too?"

Matthew yelled, "Go home, Frank. Your wife's waiting." He pushed back his chair, muttering, "It's about time." He glanced at Danni, a grin spreading across his face. "I already paid for the food. Go tip the guy, will you?"

Spying his billfold on the corner of the desk, she grinned. "Sure thing!" With a wave of her pointer finger, she opened the wallet, and several bills floated up into the air, hovering above the desk. "Looks like I got three fives."

Matthew jumped out of his chair, snatching the money out of the air. He opened the office door and handed it to the driver, who approached the door. "Thanks, keep the change." He nodded and took the bags of food, closing the door behind him.

Half smirking, half snarling, he glanced at Danni. "You're so funny!" Setting the bags on the desk, he motioned toward them. "Let's eat."

The pair sat across from each other, sharing sweet and sour pork, jasmine rice, egg rolls, and Moo Shu vegetables.

Danni watched Matthew work his chopsticks like a pro, shoveling the food into his mouth.
"I guess you were hungry." She laughed.

Matthew stopped midway to his mouth. "Am I eating too much? Here, take what you want."

"No, I'm not that hungry. I think an egg roll will suffice."

"Are you sure? That doesn't sound like much."

"I'm fine. Finish it." Danni pushed the carton of vegetables toward him. "These are good for you."

Donatelli leaned over his chair and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. "So is this."

Danni frowned. "I don't think so, my friend. Not tonight. You need a clear head so we can figure this out." She snatched the bottle off the desk and put it on the credenza behind her.

"Last I knew, you're not my mother."

A voice spoke from behind the detective. "Neither am I, but you need to listen to her."

Matthew spun his chair around at the sound of the woman's voice and groaned. "Eleanor! Are you guys teaming up on me?"

Danni shook her head. "Don't look at me. I thought she was in England with Charles."

Knowing Danni would resent her arrival, she flashed a smile in her direction. "I was, but something told me the two of you were going to butt heads and not get this case solved."

Danni frowned at Eleanor. "I'm not a newbie anymore. I can do this without you looking over my shoulder. It's not that I don't love you, but I need to prove myself."

"By bickering with Matthew?"

"It's just a little teasing. It's not my fault the guy walks around with a hangover three-fourths of the time."

Matthew chose one of the egg rolls and bit it in half. "Ladies, I am sitting right here."

Eleanor sighed. "He's right. There's work to be done."

"Exactly what we were doing all day. We did just fine." Danni smirked.

Matthew confirmed Danni's remarks with a nod, taking another bite of an egg roll.

"Really! So what did you find out at the art museum? Besides ruffling Jenna's feathers."

"Is she behind this visit? If so, I can give her a few choice words." Donatelli's voice rose an octave or two.

"No, she's not, and you will mind your manners around my daughter. She's having a difficult enough time with the pageant, the rumors, and now a murder."

The detective shrugged. "If you can't swim with the sharks, get out of the water."

"Matthew, that's enough," Eleanor scolded. "Give me a quick summary of what you found out today."

Danni chuckled. "That shouldn't take long. He made half the place angry and the other half too frightened to talk to him."

"That's not true. I have a young man in custody, sweating it out in a cell. Witnesses said he was fighting with Bennett shortly before the time of death."

"Did he admit to the murder?"

"No, of course not. The guy said he was arguing with Bennett but swears he was alive when he left him. But then, what else would he say?"

"And that's all you've got?" Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "Sounds like a hard day's work!"

"It was our first day. Give me a little time, and I'll break the guy. He'll be signing a confession before you know it."

"No, he won't. Unless you force it out of him."

"Why not?"

"Because he didn't kill Bennett, though the man deserved it."

Danni choked. "Eleanor, did you just say our victim deserved to be killed? What are you basing that on?"

"Two of the girls you terrified have information that proves Bennett was far from squeaky clean. They are too afraid to talk to you."

"I don't bite!" Matthew finished his egg roll. "Okay, so my growl gets a little loud, but that's not a reason to withhold information. Who are these girls? I'll send a patrol car to pick them up, and they'll tell me what they know."

"No, they won't. But if you put on a nice smiling face tomorrow, I will take you to one of them, and she will tell you everything she knows. And before you start sputtering — what she knows is important."

"You tell me then."

"You know I can't. I found your witness and convinced her to talk to you. The rest is up to you. See you tomorrow at ten." Eleanor faded away.

"How can she do that? Come in here and order me around. I'm not going to let her do that."

"Really, Donatelli? I wouldn't say I like it either, but she came up with more information than we did today. Trust me, if Eleanor says she's got a witness, she's got it."

He shoved the last egg roll into his mouth, muttering, "I suppose. Now, can I have the Jack Daniels?"
*****
The private jet descended through the clear azure sky. Its polished fuselage glinted in the midday sun. As the aircraft approached the runway of the small Mexican airport, the pilot could see the aftermath of the recent earthquake. Though still standing, the control tower had visible cracks running along its structure. Scattered debris lay across the tarmac, but the main runway remained intact except for a few surface fractures.

The static echoed from the pilot's radio, and his voice filled the plane. "I'd fasten your seatbelt, Mr. Carter. This might be a bumping landing."

Angelo opened the shutter on his window and looked outside. He saw a partially collapsed hangar, its corrugated metal roof crumpled like paper. Nearby buildings bore the scars of the tremor with shattered windows and broken facades.

The pilot's voice came through the intercom again. "We're about to touchdown, sir."

Upon touchdown, the jet's wheels hit the ground with a thud, sending a cloud of dust and small debris flying. Angelo felt a slight jolt as they taxied over a cracked section of the runway.
As the jet slowed to a halt, one emergency vehicle, lights flashing, appeared nearby. A sleek black limo parked outside the one undamaged hanger.

The jet rolled to a stop, its engines winding down with a deep hum.

"Welcome to Mexico. Enjoy your stay."

Angelo, the sole passenger, unbuckled the seatbelt and stood up, stretching his legs after the long flight from Chicago. The cabin's luxurious leather seats and polished wood accents seemed surreal against the backdrop of the earthquake's aftermath.

As he descended the narrow staircase, the warm Mexican sun greeted him with the faint scent of dust and distant sea air. He glanced around the airport and felt thankful that his departure from Chicago had been delayed by a few hours.

The limo eased across the tarmac, stopping to the left of the stairs. The driver, dressed in a crisp, dark uniform, stepped out and opened the door for him. Angelo nodded in acknowledgment as he approached, feeling the coolness of the air-conditioned interior wash over him as he settled in the back seat.

The limousine smoothly navigated around the damaged sections of the airport. Angelo glanced out the tinted windows, taking in the sight of the cracked control tower and its missing windows.
As they exited the airport, the driver spoke, "Mr. Hernandez is expecting you, sir. We will be going directly to the villa."

Angelo leaned back, his mind shifting from the earthquake's impact to the upcoming meeting. He'd rather not have this one-on-one meeting with Carlos Hernandez, but he didn't have a choice. You don't refuse the invitation when Carlos sends a private jet — not if you're smart.
*****
Angelo straightened his suit jacket as he exited the limousine, nodded to the driver, and walked briskly toward the veranda. The housekeeper opened the door as he approached.
"Welcome back, Mr. Carter. Mr. Hernandez is in his office."

Angelo smiled. "Thank you, Maria. I know my way."

He walked down the long hallway, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor. The door to Carlos' office was open, and the scent of his favorite Cuban cigar filled the air. Angelo could see Carlos behind his mahogany desk, a cigar in his hand. He tapped his knuckles against the door.
Rising from his chair, Carlos greeted him with a warm smile. "Angelo, I hope you had a pleasant flight. The weather was a bit unexpected a few hours ago."

"I saw the damage at the airport, but the villa withstood it all."

"Yes, even Mother Nature fears Carlos Hernandez's wrath." He laughed, a deep throaty sound coming from deep inside his body. "Please, let's drink, and then we'll talk."
*****
The sun was setting, and a cool breeze drifted across the veranda. Carlos had suggested they sit outside and enjoy the view while they talked.

Taking a slow drag from his cigar, Carlos gazed across his land, satisfied with what he saw — miles and miles of land that belonged to him. He would let no one or anything jeopardize what he had worked so hard for, including his son, whom he loved dearly.

"So you have an update for me, Angelo?" He watched as his bourbon swirled around the glass, a silent reminder of his authority. His sources had given him the answer, but he wanted to hear it directly from Angelo.

"I paid her a visit, just like you asked. We had a cordial conversation. She was nervous, but she wasn't talking — at least not yet."

Carlos sipped his drink, his eyes narrowing. "Not yet isn't good enough, Angelo. I sent you to do a job. I don't like loose ends. Did you do it or not?" His voice was sharp, cutting through the evening air.

Angelo cleared his throat. "Her cleaning lady interrupted us before I could press her harder. But I got enough to know she's scared. She knows she's in deep."

Carlos leaned forward in his chair, his tone turning icy cold. "Did you mention Jose?"

Angelo shook his head. "No sir, I figured that was a detail best kept between us for now. She believes Arthur Bennet's blackmail died with him."

Carlos leaned back in his chair, swallowed some of the bourbon, and sighed. "Good! We need to keep it that way. Jose's actions were reckless, but I can't have American authorities sniffing around because of his stupidity. We need to ensure Naomi stays quiet. Permanently, if necessary."

Angelo raised an eyebrow as he felt his heartbeat quicken. "You want me to take care of her?"

Taking a long drag from his cigar, Carlos paused before answering, "Only if it comes to that. First, I want you to pay her another visit. This time, make it clear that any attempt to talk will end badly for her. And Angelo, no more interruptions, understood?"

"Understood, sir. I'll make sure she gets the message loud and clear."

"That's a good boy, Angelo. Remember, unfinished business is bad for both of us. Don't make me regret putting my trust in you."

"I won't, Carlos. You can count on me."

Maria stepped out onto the veranda. "Excuse me, sir, but the cook wants to know if Mr. Carter will stay for dinner."

Without a moment's hesitation, Carlos answered, "No, Maria. Angelo was just leaving for the airport. He has important business in the States."

Angelo finished his drink, stood, and offered his hand to Carlos. "I'll get it taken care of, sir."

Carlos stared at his guest, then smiled. "The limo is waiting. Come back when you can stay longer."

Angelo nodded and walked down the pathway toward the limo. Even in the steamy Mexico sun, he felt a chill, knowing Carlos was watching him.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer / ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - her older brother and protector
Angelo Carter - private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 6
Spirited Justice Chap 6

By Begin Again

Carlos Hernandez's private jet began its descent into the bustling airport. The runway lights twinkled below like scattered diamonds against the inky night. Inside, the cabin was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engines. Angelo sat by the window, staring at the approaching city lights, lost in his thoughts.

"Welcome back to the States, Angelo. We'll be landing in just a few minutes. Hope you enjoyed your trip."

Angelo sighed. It wasn't the trip he'd expected, especially with Carlo's abrupt send-off. Any other time, the two men would have enjoyed a steak dinner followed by hours of the best wines, liquor, and entertainment money could buy. But today, it had been different.

The meeting had been brief and unsettling. Angelo couldn't shake his unease as he departed the Villa. A coldness had replaced the usual banter and camaraderie. Angelo couldn't put his finger on it, but he was sure Carlos was hiding something, and this uncertainty was starting to gnaw at him.

The jet touched down smoothly, the tires skimming the runway before striking the tarmac firmly. The cabin lights brightened as the plane taxied to a halt.

As the door opened and the cool night air rushed in, Angelo took a deep breath, thanked the pilot, and descended the stairs. His thoughts were focused on Naomi and Carlo's underlying threats to silence her. Angelo could deal with dirty work, the kind that involved intimidation and coercion, but no one had ever pressured him to kill anyone. It left a foul taste in his mouth, especially since the someone was Naomi, a woman he cared about.

After a brief stop at the airport's private customs facility, Angelo weaved through the crowded terminal. He could skip the baggage area since he'd only brought a small carry-on. His eyes scanned the sea of faces, half out of habit and half with a futile attempt to clear his mind. Suddenly, a familiar face caught his attention.

"Jose?" After his initial surprise, everything clicked in Angelo's mind. He'd thought it strange that the pilot hadn't conversed with him during the flight, and now it made sense. Jose had been in the cockpit, but they had kept his presence a secret. But why all the secrecy? What was Jose hiding?

Jose was engaged in an animated conversation with a small group of men, a rather odd mix. Two middle-aged men wore expensive, tailored suits and spoke with authority. One man, younger than the others, wore jeans with a dark blazer. It had an elegant lapel pin featuring the crest of Germany's Heidelberg University and words - semper apertus, their motto, embroidered on the pocket. His striking blue eyes, blonde hair, and square jaw screamed German descent. On the other hand, the remaining man's muscular frame and numerous tattoos under his leather vest labeled him trouble.

Angelo ordered a cup of coffee from the coffee shop while keeping an eye on his friend. Jose looked different from the last time he'd seen him at the Villa. He appeared tense, his usual playboy demeanor replaced by a look of unease. Choosing a vantage point near the cafe, partially hidden by a cluster of travelers waiting for their orders, Angelo watched and wondered.

What are you up to, Jose? Does your father know you have come to the States, and who are these men? The mystery of Jose's sudden appearance and his companions piqued Angelo's curiosity, leaving him with more questions than answers.
*****
A master at materializing into a perfectly normal woman, Eleanor exited the bathroom stall and checked the mirror. She smoothed her blouse, adjusted her hair, and took a deep breath before entering the bustling terminal.

"Okay, Dylan, where are you?" she asked herself eagerly. She'd been elated to learn that Charles's nephew would have a short layover in Chicago and expressed his desire to meet up with her. Crowds weren't her thing, but she'd make do for Dylan.

As she navigated the crowded terminal, she focused on finding Dylan and overlooked Angelo until it was too late. She bumped into him gently, her hand brushing against his arm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Eleanor exclaimed, stepping back with an apologetic smile. "I wasn't paying attention."

Angelo looked at her, slightly startled but quickly recovering his composure. "No problem," he said with a polite nod.

Eleanor gave a distracted nod and continued on her way, but the brief contact left her with a strange sensation — a jolt of unease that she couldn't quite place. Shaking off the feeling, she refocused on her mission to find Dylan. Spotting him near a book stand, she hurried toward him.
 
Dylan, engrossed in his phone, looked up and smiled warmly. "Eleanor!" His smile was genuine. "I wasn't sure you'd make it. Charles sends his love."

A warm sensation covered Eleanor's body as she thought of Charles. "Is he worried about me?"

Dylan hesitated, then nodded. "He told me to try to convince you not to play detective again."

"Me? Play detective?" She grinned. "I assure you I only came to check on Danni and Jenna, not to get involved in any crime."

"You say that, but I know you enjoyed your last caper."

"Caper! Listen to you! You make me sound like Lady Sherlock Homes." Eleanor grinned and glanced around the area. Her gaze shifted to the man she'd bumped into earlier. A tall sign slightly obscured him and, of course, an array of people. The same strange sensation she'd felt earlier chilled her body. Her instincts said something wasn't right.

"Dylan, do you see that man by the coffee kiosk over there?"

Dylan laughed. "Now that narrows it down, doesn't it?"

"He's behind the sign. You can't miss him. He's wearing sunglasses."

"Okay. What's so special about him?" Dylan shrugged. "He looks like another tourist passing the time, just like me waiting to reconnect our flights."

"I bumped into him earlier and felt this strange sensation, but I didn't pay much attention because I was focused on finding you. I've got that feeling again."

Dylan scanned the area. "He might be watching that group of gentlemen by the entrance, but it's hard to say." He stopped to listen to the PA system. "I've got to go. They are announcing my flight."

"Go! And don't get tricked into buying any fake paintings while you're in California." She laughed and reached out to touch his hand. "Be careful."

"You're the one that needs to be careful. Please promise me you aren't going to get involved."

"Last call for Flight 2354 to San Francisco. Now boarding at Gate 18."

"Go, Dylan. You are going to miss your flight."

"Please be careful." With a deep breath, he headed toward his gate. As he walked past Angelo, he glanced his way, wondering what vibe Eleanor might have picked up on.

"I promise —" Eleanor blew him a kiss and watched as he hurried through the terminal to catch his flight. "To be careful, but I didn't say I'd stay out of it."

Her focus returned to Angelo as she watched him move from his location near the cafe, blending into the crowd. She was positive he was following the group of men who were on the move.

And she was only steps behind him.
*****
Angelo slowed and stopped to examine a gift shop rack as Jose and the other men waited near the elevator. He couldn't help but notice how different Jose looked since the last time he'd seen him. The playboy appeared tense, his usual happy-go-lucky demeanor replaced with a look of unease. He gestured animatedly and spoke in a voice too low for Angelo to catch the words.

One of the men, a tall figure with a stern face, placed a hand on Jose's shoulder, leaning in to speak. The interaction seemed more forceful than friendly.

Angelo's instincts told him that whatever was happening was important. He pulled out his phone, pretending to check messages while he snapped photos of Jose and the men.

"— about Bennett?" one of the suited men asked, his voice tense.

Jose scowled. "Are you —" Angelo couldn't hear the words, but Jose's posture exploded with anger.

The rough-looking man grabbed Jose's arm. "You or your father —"

Jose's voice rose as he yanked his arm away. "My father — nothing to do with — understand?"

"His — investigator — the woman lawyer."

"Angelo — my business — not your concern."
 
The bits and pieces of the conversation were choppy, but Angelo knew he'd heard his name.

Eleanor's curiosity kicked into gear after she overheard the men and sensed Angelo's tension. She made her decision, changing directions and moving closer to the group of men. As she approached, a sense of foreboding washed over her. Though they appeared to be nothing more than travelers or businessmen, the surrounding aura told her a different story.

The closer she got, the more she felt the cold, creeping sensation of something sinister. The air pulsed with a dark, almost evil energy. She could sense the undercurrents of deceit and betrayal in their presence, a twisted knot of intentions that made her spectral form shiver.

It wasn't just their words she heard — it was the feeling they projected. Their smiles were too sharp, their laughter hollow, devoid of genuine warmth. Their eyes had a hardness, a calculating gleam that spoke of ruthless ambitions and a willingness to cross any line.

Eleanor knew then that these men were not just discussing business deals or strategies. They were plotting something more insidious, and Angelo was somehow tethered to their schemes.
This realization hardened Eleanor's resolve. She had to help Angelo, whether he wanted her assistance or not. These men were not just a threat — they were a manifestation of the evil that had kept her tethered to this world, and she would not allow them to succeed.

"Excuse me," her voice filled with worry. "I seem to be a bit turned around. I've lost my briefcase, and I'm trying to find the information desk. Could one of you gentlemen point me in the right direction?"

Jose and his associates looked up, shifting their attention to her. The man in the expensive suit offered a polite smile. "Of course. It's just down that way, near the main terminal."

Eleanor nodded, giving him a relieved smile. "Thank you so much. One of the problems with getting older is that we tend to get disoriented easily."

"Happy to help."

Eleanor continued towards the information desk but glanced back and observed the group and Angelo.
*****
Noticing they were attracting attention, the one businessman quickly separated the two men. "I suggest a quieter place, maybe the lounge, to continue this discussion."

Jose looked around as if he sensed someone watching. Angelo ducked inside the shop while his mind raced, piecing together what little he'd heard. Somehow, these men knew about him, Naomi, and Bennett, but he didn't know what their connection might be. And why would Jose reveal his involvement to this mixed bag of men?

The group began to move, making their way toward the airport lounge. Angelo slid into the crowd, shadowing them at a safe distance. As he reached the lounge, he felt a strange chill, and a woman's voice startled him.

"I can help, you know."

He turned sharply, finding a slender, elegant woman standing beside him. She wore an outdated but striking outfit, and her eyes were sharp and curious.

Angelo frowned, annoyed at the interruption. "You again!" Angelo checked where the group was seated before speaking to Eleanor again. "Look, lady, you're mistaken. You need to stay out of this. It's not your business."

But Eleanor wasn't deterred. "Oh, I think it is. I'm quite interested in what they're talking about."

Without waiting for Angelo's response, she turned and walked toward the table where Jose and the men were seated. Angelo started to call after her, but something stopped him — a shiver down his spine that he couldn't quite explain as he watched her fade from sight. Gulping in disbelief, he chose a corner table and quickly ordered a drink.

Unseen by the men, Eleanor slipped into their midst, her form faintly shimmering as she leaned in to listen. The conversation was laced with tension as the burly figure with a deep voice spoke in low tones. "Are you responsible for Bennett's murder?"

Jose gasped. "Bennett's dead? I've been in Mexico. It's the first I learned of his death."

The suit spoke next. "He was found murdered outside the Art Museum. Now, the police are involved. The pageant and our organization didn't need that kind of publicity."

"So, you are accusing me or my father?"

"We aren't accusing anyone, but, interestingly, your father had his private investigator pay a visit to the woman lawyer."

My father's concerns have nothing to do with you," Jose snapped. "I'll take care of Angelo. I'm here because you said you had something big in the works and asked if I was interested. Now, you are accusing me and my family of murder."

"Calm yourself, Jose. No one is accusing you of anything. We are just asking business questions, that's all."

"Questions that have nothing to do with you."

"If the woman has the papers, it does have everything to do with us."

"What papers? And why would Naomi have whatever you're looking for?"

"We believe Bennett had them. And they are important to us — extremely important."

"So, that's why you contacted me, to get these papers from Naomi." Jose nodded and glanced around the table. "I could do that, but tell me, what's in it for me?"

"Not here. My office — tomorrow night at nine p.m."

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - her older brother and protector
Angelo Carter - private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 7
Spirited Justice Chap 7

By Begin Again

Detective Donatelli pulled up to the art museum in his cruiser, the engine rumbling to a halt as he slid into a no-parking zone near the entrance. Without hesitation, he turned on the red dashboard light, his claim of authority. He was late — again — but at this point, it was becoming his trademark.

He grabbed his suit jacket off the seat and shut the car door, not bothering to lock it. His hair was slightly disheveled, and dark circles under his eyes screamed lack of sleep, yet he took the museum steps two at a time.

The heavy doors swung open as he reached the top of the stairs. Standing inside, Danni waited with a mischievous grin. "What took you so long?" she quipped.

Donatelli shot her a look as he brushed past, muttering, "I thought you were going to stay at the station and go over Bennett's bank statements?"

"And miss out on the interrogation? Not on your life."

Together, they headed for the elevator. Inside, the well-oiled gears hummed softly as the elevator ascended.

Without warning, a faint shimmer materialized, and Eleanor appeared. "Good morning, Detective." She turned her head and nodded toward Danni. "Danni, that outfit looks very becoming."

"Too bad no one else can see it." Danni scowled.

Eleanor offered a knowing smile, then turned her attention to the detective.

He forced himself to breathe. "A little warning next time wouldn't hurt," he muttered. "You take five years off my life every time you do that."

"Forgive me, Matthew. The elevator didn't stop at my floor."

Danni giggled. "Ever heard of knocking before entering a room?"

Eleanor's eyes flashed toward Danni. "A slip in my manners, perhaps, but I'm sure you've been schooled on that subject more often than I." She smiled and turned her attention to Donatelli. "Do you know anything about Jose Hernandez?"

"Hernandez? Can't say the name rings any bells."

The elevator slowed to a halt before Eleanor could ask anything further, and the doors opened. Matthew stepped out, flanked by two ghosts — one he could see and one he could feel.
*****
Jenna's heels clicked against the floor as she hurried from her office. Her exit coincided with Matthew's exit from the elevator, and she almost collided with him, her face flushed.

"Jenna! Slow down." Matthew steadied her, keeping her upright as she stumbled slightly.

"I can't!" she spat. "Come with me. There's a problem on the stage."

"What kind of a problem?"

"The person who called my office said there was an accident. That's all I know." Jenna's eyes flickered to Eleanor and the detective. "You don't think it's another —"

"Murder? Don't jump the gun, Jenna. Maybe it is just an accident." He turned to address the others, but they were gone.

Jenna managed a smile. "Mother and Danni on the case. Aren't you lucky?"

Donatelli groaned, "Why me?" Although the detective knew either one of them could get closer to a situation than he could, he still choked when he had to swallow his pride. "Let's go, or they might have the case solved before we even get there."

*****
Sophia, Max, and Hilda had been amongst the first to arrive. Their faces were pale with shock. Murmurs and gasps spread through the growing crowd gathered around the motionless body.

Jenna and Matthew pushed through the cluster of onlookers and knelt beside the person on the ground. He checked for a pulse, nodding when he felt a faint but steady beat. "He's alive."

Jenna jumped to her feet. "I'll call an ambulance."

Donatelli looked around the crowd and chose two men, probably construction workers. "Can you clear some space? Get all these people out of here unless they say they have information about what happened."

Both men nodded and quickly began dispersing the crowd.

The man on the ground groaned and mumbled incoherently. Donatelli leaned in closer to hear him better.

"Tripped — dodging light —fell — scaffolding."

The detective's eyes darted upward, following the man's gaze to the scaffolding above. A light fixture dangled precariously from its mount.

Was it an accident or something more sinister?
*****
At the sound of the ambulance sirens, the crowd parted to allow the paramedics through. They swiftly began attending to the injured man, asking him about the accident.

Donatelli listened.

The man clutched his side, wincing in pain. "I — I tripped," he mumbled. "Must have lost my footing and — fell."

The detective crouched beside the man, his face etched with skepticism. " Are you familiar with working on scaffolding?"

The man groaned, "Yeah, twenty years."

Donatelli nodded. "That's a long time. Do you always work without a safety harness?"

The man groaned, grabbing at his side.

"I'm sorry, Detective. We've got to get this man to the hospital. You'll have to save your questions for later."

Donatelli nodded to the paramedic and moved out of the way. His eyes shifted to the scaffolding, and he hoped Danni had been able to find any clues.
*****
While Danni investigated the scaffolding, Eleanor walked through the crowd, listening to anything hinting at what had happened. Having been delayed from meeting Sophia and not seeing her near the stage, she was worried about the young girl and decided to check on her.

As she rounded a corner near Sophia's secret hideout, she paused, hearing a sound — much like a dog barking. As she reached the storage room door, she could hear scratching on the wood and thumping against the boxes.

She tried the door, but it was locked. Max greeted her with more barking. "It's okay, Max." She called out to Sophia. "Sophia, are you okay?" She knew something was wrong when she didn't get an answer except for Max's insistent barking.

She glanced around and then passed through the door. Max recognized her and jumped up, trying to tell her something was wrong. "Max, where's Sophia?"

She unlocked the door and swung it open. "Find Sophia."

Max barked and shot through the opening, his four paws a rapid patter against the marble floor as he hurried through the museum. Eleanor followed, her form a whisper of movement as she kept pace with the dog.

They wound through the museum, past exhibits and art pieces, deeper into the building, toward an area less traveled.

Finally, Max skidded to a stop, his hair bristling as he growled. A man dressed in black, his head down, moved from behind a dinosaur exhibit and raced toward the back door. As Max lunged toward him, Eleanor saw his face, and a chill ran through her.

At the same time, Sophia's voice rang out, "Max!"

Her faithful companion stopped his chase and raced toward his master, tail wagging furiously. Sophia buried her face against his fur and murmured, "Oh. Max, I was worried he might have hurt you."

"He's fine, Sophia." Eleanor's materialized form moved closer, but her eyes focused on Hilda and the young man she was clinging to. She might not have recognized the blue eyes and blonde hair, but the college jacket left an imprint in her mind. He'd been wearing it at the airport when she saw Jose and the other men.

The young man smiled at the girls, his voice smooth and reassuring. "It's okay now. He's gone."

Hilda looked up at Eleanor. "Johan saved us. Some man followed us to Sophia's hideout and tried to kidnap us."

Eleanor's eyes narrowed as she gave Johan a once over. "Lucky that Johan came along when he did."

"I'm glad I was there. The girls needed my help."

"How did you see what was happening with all the excitement this morning?"

"He was looking for me, Eleanor." Hilda sighed and hugged the young man again. "My parents sent him to check on me and Klaus. He's my guardian angel."

Johan smiled and tightened his arms around Hilda. "She's safe with me. And Sophia, too."

Eleanor smiled, "Thank you, Johan, for rescuing the girls."

She didn't believe a word of it, but she had no proof at the moment. There was something too polished, too rehearsed in his demeanor. Her mind raced as she tried to piece the clues together. This man wasn't here by chance — he was involved, but how and why?
*****
Meanwhile, Danni was making a few discoveries herself. As she drifted above the scaffolding, she inspected the scene without disturbing anything. She noticed something wedged between the railings — a torn piece of fabric, barely visible in the shadows. It was snagged in a way that suggested someone had been struggling. Nearby, a pair of wire clippers lay discarded, half-hidden under some ropes. In her viewpoint, the clippers were a key detail, and the torn fabric was a smoking gun. This wasn't an accident.

She floated down to the stage, nudging Donatelli. "You need to get a forensic crew up top before anything disappears."

Donatelli moved away from the scene before answering Danni, "You find something?"

"Signs of a struggle and wire clippers."

The detective smiled. "Good work, Danni."

The paramedics had the victim on a gurney and were about to leave the scene. Donatelli hurried to his side. Leaning close to the victim, he asked, "You didn't just trip, did you?"

Fear flashed through the man's eyes as he stared at the detective, but his only response was a guttural moan.

"Sorry, Detective, we've gotta go."

Donatelli watched as they wheeled the gurney through the crowd toward the ambulance waiting outside while he called in to order a forensic team to the site.

He had no idea what was going on or whether the murder and this attempted murder were connected, but something told him neither one was an accident.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - her older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 8
Spirited Justice chap 8

By Begin Again

"Naomi." The name slipped from Angelo's lips as he drifted in and out of his dreams. He was back on the beach with her. He felt the warmth of her body, the gentle rise and fall of her breathing as she slept in his arms. His heart throbbed with the memory of that moment, the tenderness, the unspoken longing he'd felt, but she never knew.

His dream blurred, shifting into something more muddled and surreal. He was no longer on the beach but in his bed. The sour taste of last night's liquor still lingered in his mouth, a bitter reminder of the excess he sought to drown his confusion. But no amount of alcohol could erase what he saw — or thought he saw.

With a groan, his eyes fluttered open, and his head throbbed as he blinked against the morning light. As his vision cleared, he froze, and his heart skipped a beat.

Eleanor stood at the foot of his bed. Angelo's eyes widened, and for a split second, panic seized him.

"Oh no," he muttered, sitting up too quickly, his head spinning with the movement. "I didn't — we didn't?"

Eleanor's eyebrow arched, and a hint of amusement danced in her eyes. "What? I'm not your type?" she teased, crossing her arms and giving him a playful smirk, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Angelo's face flushed with embarrassment, his hand going to his head as he tried to shake off the absurdity of his half-awake thoughts. "No, no! I mean, I didn't — I wouldn't — You're a — You're not even —!" He stammered, his mind still tangled in the confusion of sleep, unable to find the right words.

Eleanor chuckled, shaking her head. "Relax, Angelo. You didn't bring me home last night, and we certainly didn't — well, you know." She winked, her tone light, teasing him just enough to keep him off balance. "But seriously, I have a question. Those men last night — why did they draw your attention? Do you know them?"

Angelo expelled his breath that he didn't realize he'd been holding and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Jose is the son of a client. I was surprised to see him since I'd just left his father in Mexico, and no mention was made of Jose coming to the States. As for the others, I have no clue except their demeanor led me to believe something bad was going down."

"And you have no clue who any of them are?"

"The younger one was wearing a university jacket, so he probably studied in Germany. The two suits were businessmen, probably CEOs if I was to judge them by the threads they were wearing. And the thug, well, he just didn't fit with the others, so my guess is he's hired muscle."

"Hmm, that's an interesting group. We need to talk more, but something is happening at the art museum that warrants my attention. I need to talk to Donatelli. And you need some coffee."

"I don't need the detective sticking his nose into my business. I can take care of Jose."

Eleanor emptied the whiskey bottle and tossed it in the trash can. "Not if you keep drinking like this."

"Hey, cut me some slack. It's not every day I meet a ghost." Angelo stared at her, his eyes wide with disbelief. "That's what you are, right? I didn't imagine it, did I?"

"No, I'm an honest-to-goodness ghost. I'm not sure what I will tell our detective, but I promise to talk to you first. Will that suffice?"

"Yeah, that's good. I don't remember too much about last night after you disappeared. Do you do that to people often?"

"Only when necessary. It gets me what I want and saves on warrants, too." Eleanor smiled. "Did you have a better plan to hear what they were talking about?"

"Uh, not really."

Eleanor snapped her finger, and a large cup of steaming black coffee appeared in her hand. She gave it to Angelo. "Drink. Get cleaned up. I'll be back."

Angelo stared at the coffee cup. "Wow! That's awesome. Can you get me an order of steak and eggs with some hash browns on the side?"

"Don't push your luck, my friend," Eleanor smirked.

Angelo tossed her a sheepish grin. "Can't blame a man for trying."

Eleanor smiled. "And I'm not your mother. I'll be back."

Angelo looked around the room. She was gone, but the aroma of breakfast filled the air. A basket of freshly baked biscuits sat on the table, along with a platter of bacon, a large, medium-rare steak, two eggs over easy, and crispy hash browns.

Angelo stumbled to his feet and smiled. "I love you, Eleanor."
*****
A chill whispered through Jenna's office as Eleanor materialized again, her ghostly form solidifying into a more human appearance. She leaned heavily against her daughter's desk, feeling fatigued. With a wry smile, she muttered, "No one told me that being a ghost would come with jetlag — and no jet."

The morning's events had taken their toll — flitting from the art museum with Donatelli to finding Sophia and Hilda, then darting to Angelo and back again. All this back-and-forth, even in spirit form, was wearing on her. She wasn't used to such constant movement, and it was beginning to show.

"Pull yourself together, girl. You need to find Jenna or Donatelli for an update and then check on Sophia and Hilda. I don't trust their new friend."

As Eleanor turned toward the door, it swung open, and Jenna's assistant, Emily walked in. Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Eleanor.

"Oh, Mrs. Bennett, I didn't see you come in." She looked back at her office, then at Eleanor. "How did you get here? Was I at my desk?"

Eleanor's mind raced, searching for an explanation. She knew she had to tread carefully because Emily was sharp, and the last thing she needed was to raise suspicions about herself.

"Um," Eleanor began with a warm smile. "I'm sorry if I startled you. When I came in, you were busy on the phone, searching for something in the file cabinet. I was rushing to find Jenna, so I whizzed by without you noticing."

Emily blinked, still puzzled. "But I didn't hear or see you."

"You were just so involved in your work, honey." Eleanor sensed Emily's disbelief. "I'm sure it was just one of those things where you were so focused on your work that you missed me zipping by."

Emily opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment, Jenna walked through the door.

"Mom!" Jenna exclaimed. She crossed the room and hugged Eleanor. "I didn't see you after the ambulance took the injured man to the hospital, but Sophia told me something about a problem in the storage area. She wasn't very clear about what happened except to say you were there."

"I'm glad you saw Sophia. I had to leave for a while and hoped everything was okay. Did Donatelli determine it was a tragic accident?"

"Actually —" Jenna glanced at Emily, who was still looking bewildered. "Emily, could you give my Mom and me a few minutes? I'll catch up with you about those files they were calling about in a second."

Emily hesitated, her gaze flickering between Eleanor and Jenna. "Of course, I'll be at my desk if you need anything.' With one last puzzling glance, she nodded and left the office, closing the door behind her.

Jenna turned to her mother as soon as they were alone, concern creeping into her expression. "Mom, what's going on? You look —  I don't know, a little rattled."

"Charles warned me about traveling across from England, but I wanted a short visit. I hadn't expected everything else that's been happening. It's taken a bit out of me, which is something I hate to admit. And if you repeat that to anyone, especially Danni or Donatelli, I will never forgive you."

"Donatelli has no room to talk lately, and Danni, well, she's not had the opportunity to experience the travel and transition yet."

"I know her disappointment concerning that, but her time will come. She needs to control herself a little more discreetly."

"She's great at what she does, though. I imagine she'd even be more help to Matthew if she could work like you do."

"I'll put in a good word for her when I get back. Now tell me about the accident."

"Donatelli says it wasn't an accident even though the man claims it was. Danni found some great clues and asked Matthew to call in forensics before they disappeared. It looks like someone pushed the guy off and loosened the light to make it appear like he fell."

"Good one for Danni." Eleanor sighed, still feeling tired. "And Sophia and Hilda were okay?"

"Well, I can't really speak about Hilda. Something about her and a family friend went to breakfast, but Sophia and Max stayed behind."

"A family friend? Did her brother go with them?"

"No, Klaus was still waiting for Donatelli to interview him when all this happened. He had to get back to his office before the young man started screaming for a lawyer."

"I've got to speak to Sophia. I have reason to believe this family friend isn't on the up and up. You get with Emily —  and I am sorry about surprising her like that. I'm going to go find Sophia and Max just to satisfy my own thoughts."

"Okay, but if you are that tired, Mom, taking a little rest isn't against the rules."

"I know, but this is important. I'll be fine." Eleanor blew Jenna a kiss, waved a quick goodbye to Emily, and hurried out the door in search of Sophia and Max.
*****
Eleanor tapped softly on the storage room door. "Sophia, it's Eleanor. May I come in?"

She could hear Max whimpering on the other side of the door, but Sophia didn't answer.
"Sophia, are you alright? Please let me come in. I just want to check on you."

The young girl's voice was trembling. "Are you alone? I don't want to talk to the detective."

"I'm alone. Detective Donatelli had to go back to the precinct. It's just me."

After a pause, Sophia responded, "Okay. Max, come here, boy."

Eleanor opened the door and was greeted by Max's soft whimpering as he pressed his body against Sophia's leg. She recognized Sophia's anxiety and quickly moved to her side.
"I want to help, dear. I can see how stressed you are at the moment. Sometimes, talking helps. Can you tell me what's bothering you?" She patted Sophia's hand. "Let's start with what happened this morning."

"It happened so fast, Eleanor," Sophia began. Her fingers traced the worn fabric on the couch. "Hilda was here with me when we thought we heard yelling. We hurried out into the art museum, and I guess Hilda closed the door on Max. I wanted to go back, but she insisted someone might need our help. She grabbed my arm and led me toward the stage. Others were arriving at the same time, and I could hear people screaming that someone had fallen from the scaffolding."

"What happened next?"

"That's where it gets confusing. Someone grabbed my arm, and a man's voice told us to move away from the injured man. There must have been two of them because Hilda was being moved as well. Instead of heading into the museum, I realized we were being led toward the storage area. I tried to yell, but —" Sophia pulled her knees close to her chest, burying her face. "If only I could have seen them or if I'd have gone back for Max,"

"It's okay, Sophia. Take your time." Eleanor reached over and gently touched her arm. "Just think. Use your senses."

Sophia took a deep breath and exhaled. "They shoved something in our mouths, a rag of some kind. I remember thinking it smelled like tacos. I spit it out, and I think Hilda did, too."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, someone started shouting. It might have been Johan because later, after we were rescued, I thought his voice sounded deep, like the one yelling. And I know Johan was wearing the same cologne I smelled as we were dragged off the stage."

"Awesome, Sophia. See how much you remember about what happened." Eleanor's voice was calm and reassuring. "Do you remember what they were shouting?"

"I'm not sure. By then, Hilda and I were crying and begging them to leave us alone. One voice said something like I got this. Then I heard a thud. It might have been a punch, followed by groaning."

Sophia clenched her hands into fists, the memory still vivid in her mind. "I might have blacked out for a second. I'm not sure, but the next thing I remember is Johan telling us they were gone and he would protect us. He sounded so convincing, so in control, but —"

"But what? Trust your feelings, Sophia. What was wrong?"

"I heard footsteps running toward the back door. I think that's about the time I heard you, too."

"I think you are right. I arrived as a man with a hooded jacket ran out the back door. Johan was holding Hilda, and she was sobbing. I didn't see anyone else."

"He kept saying he was there to protect us, but the tone in his voice sent a chill down my spine. I didn't feel safe, Eleanor, not until I heard your voice."

"What was it about his voice? Was he angry? Or scared?"

"No, it sounded cold."

"Can Hilda recognize the men? She must have been able to see them."

"She says she was so terrified that she can't remember anything except they wore black and had masks on their faces."

"So why did Hilda and Johan leave? I am sure they would have been safer here with the police."

"Johan told Hilda she wasn't safe, and he wanted to get her away from the museum. I could hear they were moving toward the backdoor. I felt the air on my face." Sophia shivered at the memory. "I think Hilda was too shocked to question him. She just went with him. He kept saying it was what her parents expected of him."

"I don't know if I believe that story or not. Did he offer any proof? Or did Hilda believe him?"

"He mentioned that he was going to get Klaus out of jail, which sealed the deal for Hilda. Everything else is a blur. I was so scared for both of us and now that she's gone with Johan, I'm still scared."

"You did the right thing by telling me. I will have Jenna send someone to stay with you unless you'd rather go to her office."

Sophia's voice trembled, "Can't you stay?"

"I would like nothing better, but I need to speak with Detective Donatelli and tell him about what happened. We need to track down Johan and Hilda. We need to make sure she's truly safe."

Sophia nodded and ruffled Max's head. "I'll never leave you behind again." Max put his front paws on her lap as if he fully understood.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - her older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 9
Spirited Justice Chap 9

By Begin Again

 

After leaving the museum, Johan focused on getting Hilda as far away from the crime scene as possible and his troubling thoughts. He hadn't known about Jose's diversion plan and was shocked when the man fell from the scaffolding. Even now, his pulse quickened when he recalled seeing him fall and how things had unraveled so quickly.

How did that woman find us? Did she see Jose leaving?

Jose had told him not to worry but to be ready when he gave him the word. He froze when the man slammed into the stage floor, but Jose's snarl, "Get the girl," snapped him back into the present. They'd pulled the stocking caps down over their heads, grabbed the two girls, and moved quickly out of sight. Jose had been right. They went unnoticed as everyone focused on the accident.

But then he saw her approaching and improvised, tossing the stocking cap behind some crates. He punched Jose, kicked some boxes, and Jose ran out of the building.
 
Had it been enough to fool the woman?

Hilda's sobs brought him about-face back to the present.

"You're crying again. I thought you were feeling better. Forgive my manners. I got lost in my thoughts and failed at protecting you."

Hilda sniffled and looked up at Johan. "You didn't! You saved me, and I will be forever grateful. I'm sure it was a tough moment for you as well."

Johan gave a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about me. My only focus is making sure you're safe. I promised your parents I'd protect you, and that's what matters."

Hilda nodded, still trembling slightly. "And you've kept that promise. I know they'll be so relieved when they hear what happened. But — what do you think those men wanted from us?"

Johan hesitated before answering, "I've read about — how should I say this — kidnapping beautiful women and selling them to other countries. It is a possibility, though I hope it wasn't the case here."

Hilda gasped, her eyes widening with fear. "You don't think —" She shuddered, her hands trembling.

Instinctively, he gently pulled her into his arms, softly patting her back and releasing her before she became uncomfortable.

"There's a park over there. Let's walk a little and maybe find a bench till you have time to gain your composure. Would you like that?"

Hilda nodded. "That would be nice. Thank you, Johan."

As they strolled, her hand fussed with her hair still frazzled from the struggle. "I must look a mess," Hilda fretted. Her fingers tugged at the loose ends. "My hair got all tangled during the scuffle."
 
Seizing the opportunity to get closer, Johan offered his help. "Here, let me fix it." His voice was soft and reassuring.

Hilda hesitated, then nodded, allowing him to help. He gently removed the elastic band from her ponytail, letting her hair fall loose around her shoulders. His fingers lingered slightly as he arranged the strands.

"There," he said, stepping back to admire his work. "You look perfect. The sunlight brings out the golden glints in your red hair."

Hilda blushed. A shy smile played on her lips. "You're so kind." She felt a flutter of butterflies inside her chest.

Johan returned her smile, his gaze warm and inviting. "It's not kindness, Hilda. You truly are beautiful."

They found a secluded bench near a fountain as they continued their walk. Johan gestured for them to sit. The soothing sound of the water helped calm Hilda's nerves. Johan kept his arm draped along the backrest of the bench.

"It's lovely here, but shouldn't we go to the police department? Klaus will be waiting." Hilda stood and inhaled deeply. "I wish we could walk, but it's too far. We'll have to take a cab, I suppose."

"It might be too soon, Hilda. I know you want to see Klaus, but Detective Donatelli is probably tied up at the crime scene. Why don't we walk for a little while? We can enjoy the day, and then, in a little while, we can go to the police station. You don't want to go too early and sit inside all morning, do you?"

"I suppose you're right. It would be good to clear my head before telling Klaus. He's going to be so upset."

"Sounds like we've got a plan. Shall we go?" A look of surprise covered Hilda's face when Johan took her hand in his. He laughed and looked at their hands. "I don't want you to get lost."

Hilda laughed, too; after all, he was just holding her hand.

As they strolled through the quiet streets, Johan continued to engage her in easy conversation about the city, the pageant, and her family. They passed a jewelry store, and Hilda paused, admiring the lovely pieces.

A diamond necklace with a brilliant emerald stone in the center of a heart caught her eye. "Oh, that one is so beautiful."

Johan glanced at the necklace, then at her. "It's lovely, but I think it dulls compared to your green eyes."

Hilda looked away, embarrassed but pleased by his comment. His warmth and kindness made her feel safe, almost as if the earlier terror was only a bad dream. No one had ever spoken to her like that before. It gave her a heady feeling. She felt special — even if just for a moment.

As they continued their walk, Johan let his hand slip to her waist, a comforting touch on her back. Hilda found herself leaning into him, feeling a sense of security.

After an hour of wandering through the town, window shopping, and enjoying the day, Johan sensed Hilda would want to go to the police department soon. That wasn't in his plans.

"How about we get some breakfast? I'm starving."

Hilda's heart sank at the thought of another delay, but she could hardly refuse after all the time Johan had spent with her. Before she could answer, he patted his pockets and scowled. "I think I lost my wallet. I must have dropped it during the struggle earlier." He sighed, shaking his head.

"It's okay. We can eat later."

"Tell that to my stomach. If it growls any louder, people will report hearing a vicious dog." He laughed, and so did Hilda.

"My apartment is only a few blocks from here. There's enough stuff there to make us a decent breakfast."

"But — I don't want to impose." For the sake of dramatics, Johan let his shoulders droop, and he looked so sad.

Hilda's defenses crumbled. "Nonsense. After my rescue and spending so much of your morning with me, it's the least I can do." The logical part of her mind told her to be cautious, but the vulnerable part — the part craving comfort and connection — won out.

As they continued toward her apartment, Johan's subtle smirk went unnoticed by Hilda, who was too caught up in the feeling of being cared for — however misguided that feeling might be.

*****

The apartment building stood like a sturdy sentinel among the surrounding structures, its brick facade bearing the marks of time with a dignified charm. The building's exterior was a patchwork of weathered reds and muted browns, punctuated by tall, narrow windows framed in black iron. The second-floor apartment where Hilda and Klaus lived had its own distinct character, with a modest balcony overlooking a quiet street.

As Johan and Hilda approached the entrance, they found the doorman's station conspicuously empty. A small wooden desk stood at the front, equipped with a rickety bell and a neat stack of forms that looked rarely touched. The desk had a few personal items — a faded calendar, a half-read newspaper, and an empty coffee cup.

Hilda laughed softly as she noticed Johan's puzzled expression. "Henri, our doorman, is a dear, but he is a fanatic when it comes to coffee. He probably went on one of his endless coffee breaks. He drinks so many cups a day that he's practically a fixture at the local cafe at the back of the building."

Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she continued. "He complains about having to walk so far to get a cup. Apparently, it's too much of a hassle for him to brew one here." She pointed at the coffee machine and the rack of pods on the nearby table. "He's an eccentric old man, set in his ways, but he reminds me of Santa Claus."

Johan raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Hilda smiled. "He sports a pearly white beard. Nicely trimmed, but long like Santa."

Johan's gaze wandered around the entryway, taking in the small lobby with its polished marble floor and antique furnishings. He noticed a side door leading to the fire escape, a narrow metal staircase wound its way down the side of the building. The fire escape was partially visible through a window, its metallic structure contrasting sharply with the brickwork.

He focused on following Hilda up the stairs, her lighthearted chatter easing their tension. The quiet, familiar surroundings of the apartment building were a stark contrast to the earlier chaos, providing a temporary refuge for Hilda and a momentary lapse in Johan's calculated plans.

*****

"This is it." Hilda smiled. Her fingers brushed across the top of the doorframe until she found the key. "Klaus lost his key, so I left mine here so he could get in if I was gone."

"Is that safe?" Johan pretended to show his concern.

"I never thought about it since Henri's by the door, and I've never brought anyone here before except Klaus, of course."

Her hands trembled slightly as she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The familiar scent of her home was comforting, but the presence of Johan so close behind her added an unfamiliar excitement to the air.

******

Meanwhile, Angelo had enjoyed Eleanor's wonderful breakfast, taken a refreshing shower, and now resembled a decent human being. As he savored another cup of coffee on the balcony, his thoughts returned to Naomi.

Per Carlos's request, Angelo had flown to Mexico, unbeknownst to Jose and his friends. He'd rented a small room from a quaint beach motel, dull compared to Jose's accommodations at the nearby resort nestled into the cliffs. The private investigator wasn't on vacation. He was there to keep a close eye on the Playboy. Until the last night, everything seemed normal as he watched their partying unfold from a distance. He'd heard loud arguing and then silence. The party had ended abruptly. He kept a close eye on the Playboy, but soon, all the lights went out, and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He'd decided to take a walk to relieve his built-up tension. The soft sand and the rhythmic sound of the waves muffled his footsteps crashing against the shore. As he rounded the bend, he saw her.

Naomi huddled on the beach against some enormous boulders, wearing a bikini and silk coverup. A hiccup occasionally interrupted her sobs. Her disheveled hair clung to her face in wet strands.

He approached cautiously, his heart aching at the sight of her. Naomi, usually so composed, now looked utterly broken. The bottle clutched in her hand had long since emptied, and the remnants of her mascara painted dark streaks down her face.

"Naomi?" His voice was soft as he knelt beside her. "What happened?"

She looked up, eyes red and glassy. "Jose —he — he killed someone. A local. Made Bennett and me help him get rid of the body." Her words tumbled out in a rush, punctuated by her ragged breaths. She pointed toward the top of the diving cliffs. "From up there."

He'd reached out, taking the bottle gently from her trembling fingers. "Shh, it's alright. You're safe now."

Naomi's shoulders shook with silent sobs, and she leaned into him. He'd wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Her anguish seemed to seep into him, making his own heart heavy. He whispered soothing words, rubbing her back gently to offer comfort.

Exhaustion soon overtook her, and her head fell against his shoulder. Her breathing became steady, and her sobs subsided into soft, rhythmic breaths. He'd held her, feeling the warmth of her body against his. In that quiet moment, he could hear the gentle lull of the sea, like a distant lullaby.

He knew he couldn't stay forever, though every part of him wished to. With great care, he lifted her into his arms, feeling her soft body as he carried her back to her bungalow. The night air was cool against his skin, but the heat from his unspoken emotions kept him warm.

When he reached her door, he gently eased it open and carried her inside. He laid her down on the bed, his movements tender and deliberate. The vulnerability of her sleeping form struck him deeply; she looked so peaceful now, so innocent despite the chaos she'd endured.

He'd stood by her bed momentarily, his heart caught between the overwhelming urge to stay and the painful reality that he couldn't. He touched her cheek lightly, his fingers brushing away a stray lock of hair. A sigh of resignation escaped his lips.

As he turned to leave, he took one last glance back. He knew that, despite everything, his feelings for her had solidified in that quiet, fragile moment on the beach. Naomi might never know, but he would carry this night with him forever, a bittersweet memory of love found in the darkness.

The jarring ring of his phone chased his thoughts away. He looked to see who was calling. Carlos's face and name stared back at him. He took a deep breath and answered, "Good morning, Carlos."

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - her older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 10
Spirited Justice Chap 10

By Begin Again

"Angelo, what the hell is going on?"

"Carlos, slow down. Catch me up to speed. What's got you so fired up this early in the morning."

"Early? It's almost noon, you worthless baboon."

Angelo glanced at the clock and confirmed the morning had slipped away while he was lost in thought. "Guess I was so busy I didn't see that morning had come and gone."

"Busy in bed with some broad?"

"Don't I wish, but you didn't get all steamed up to talk about my love life. What's going on?"

"I got a call from a friend who mentioned that he'd seen Jose in the States. My son didn't mention anything to me, and neither did you. What are you two up to?"

"Carlos. I swear I didn't know Jose was coming to the States. I saw him at the airport with some men, but no one said anything to me about him being on the jet. I'm guessing he was in the cockpit, and your pilot was paid handsomely for keeping his mouth shut."

"You want me to believe that Jose was a stowaway on my private jet? You didn't check?"

"Why would I? I had no reason to suspect he would do something like that. If I did, I would have told you." Angelo took a deep breath, wondering if he should mention that the men didn't look too friendly. He decided against it at least for now. "He didn't even look at me, Carlos. He was busy with his friends."

"I don't give a damn what he looked at! You're supposed to be my eyes and ears, Angelo! I'm about to close a huge deal on some cattle and I don't need Jose doing something behind my back. He's my son, but it pains me to say this, he can't stay out of trouble. I pay you quite well to make sure he does. This is unacceptable!"

Angelo sighed. He didn't like babysitting a thirty-five-year-old playboy, but after what he saw at the airport, Carlos might be right this time. "I'll find out what he's up to, Carlos. But understand, I didn't —"

Carlos interrupted him, his tone was icy. "You better, Angelo. Because if Jose gets to your lawyer friend, things might get ugly."

Angelo's eyes closed as the moment on the beach with Naomi flashed through his mind again. "I know. I'll take care of it."

"You better!" Carlos paused and then his voice became threatening, "Angelo, you screw this up, there won't be a next time. It's your job to keep my son out of trouble, especially in the States."

"He's a grown man. I can only do so much."

"Then, for your sake and Jose's, it better be enough."

The call was disconnected.

Angelo picked up the cup of coffee and drank, making a face. Cold coffee wasn't doing it for him. He walked to the cupboard and took out a bottle of bourbon and a glass. "What the heck! It's afternoon."

*****

"Make yourself at home." Hilda tried to sound casual, but her voice wavered. She quickly picked up a few scattered pieces of clothing she'd tossed aside, trying to tidy the apartment.

Johan put his hand on hers as she clutched her shirt and bra. "Relax! Your apartment looks lived in. You should see mine. Well, actually, no one should. It's a mess."

"Do you need to hire a cleaning woman?" Hilda removed her hand from his and dropped the clothing on the chair.

"No, it's not that kind of mess. Just work stuff. Books and papers are everywhere. With your research, I thought your place might look the same."

"My research? I didn't know you —"

Johan covered his tracks. "Your parents — they mentioned it when they said you were entering the pageant. They are so proud."

Hilda grinned. "Of course, they would have told you and everyone else they talked to. I guess I hadn't thought about it."

She moved toward the kitchen, eager to busy herself with preparing breakfast, hoping to steady her nerves.

Johan followed her, his steps slow and deliberate. He studied her every move as she gathered dishes, a frying pan, a loaf of bread, and eggs from the refrigerator. The sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm, soft glow. He leaned against the counter, his eyes never leaving her.

When she returned to the refrigerator, he slipped up behind her. His chest brushed against her back, and his breath touched her neck as he offered, "Let me help you." Before she could protest, he reached into the fridge for the orange juice. He whispered against her ear, "You smell good."

Hilda froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The closeness, the warmth of his body against hers, sent shivers down her spine. She felt the heat rising to her cheeks as her mind scrambled to find a response. Finally, she stammered, "Th — thank you."

Johan lingered. Before finally stepping back to allow her to turn around. He handed her the orange juice with a smile. His fingers brushed hers as she took the carton. "I love quiet mornings like this. Things just seem special, don't you think?"

Hilda allowed her eyes to look at his. Her defenses crumbled under his gaze, making her feel wanted — needed — in a way she hadn't felt in a long time. A small voice in the back of her mind warned her to be careful, but she couldn't help but be drawn in, like a spider to its web.

She lowered her eyes when she answered, "It does feel — nice."

Johan's smile widened, and he stepped closer again. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder, and his thumb brushed her collarbone. "Let's enjoy this moment, Hilda," he said softly, his voice comforting yet alluring.

She swallowed hard. The line between danger and desire blurred as she nodded. Her heart was swept up in a whirlwind of emotions.

As quickly as he'd lured her in, he set her free. "Where's that breakfast you promised me, woman? A man could starve to death."

He laughed, and Hilda laughed with him before busying herself with making breakfast.

As they sat down to eat, the small kitchen filled with the aroma of freshly made coffee, scrambled eggs, and bacon. Johan's eyes strayed numerous times to Hilda as he enjoyed the food. While he sipped his coffee, he asked, "So, this pageant? I hear it's quite a prestigious event. You must be excited to present your research there."

Hilda's eyes lit up, her enthusiasm bubbling to the surface. "Oh, absolutely! It's been a dream of mine to present some of my work. The professors and other researchers I've been working with believe my findings could be a major breakthrough in the cancer department."

Johan leaned forward, feigning deep interest. "That's incredible, Hilda. It sounds like you're on the verge of something groundbreaking. I'd love to read your papers. It's not every day you meet someone with such an impressive mind."

Hilda's cheeks turned a rosy shade, clearly flattered by his attention. "To be honest, I didn't do it all alone. I was chosen to present it, but there were others, too."

"You are too modest. Your professor —" He faltered, searching for a name. "Oh, I've forgotten his name. I met him at your parent's home."

"Professor Higgins? He was at their home? I wonder why —"

Realizing he was on dangerous ground, his eyes narrowed slightly, and his expression turned to concern. "Or it might have been at the university. I'm not sure. But I do remember him talking about you and all the long hours you'd put into the project."

Puzzled, she added, "I thought it was all to remain hush-hush until after the official presentation."

"Well, he didn't actually say anything about the research. He merely mentioned what a diligent student you were and how you loved your work." He leaned back in the chair, sipped his coffee, then nonchalantly asked, "You do keep those papers in a safe place, right? You wouldn't want anyone to get their hands on them."

Hilda nodded, a proud smile on her face. "Oh, absolutely. I've hidden them in a place no one would ever think to look. Not even Klaus knows about it." The mention of her brother jogged her memory. Her eyes went to the clock. "Oh my, it's getting late. We really should —"

Knowing where the conversation was headed and determined to detour it, he reached out for the orange juice and knocked it over. The liquid spilled across the table and onto his shirt. "Blast it!" he muttered, standing up and wiping at the stain with his napkin. "I'm so clumsy sometimes. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to clean this up?"

Still feeling the effects of his earlier flirtation, Hilda shyly nodded. "Of course, it's down the hallway. I'll get something to clean up the table and floor."

With his shirt half-unbuttoned, revealing his chest, he smiled charmingly, "I'll clean it for you after I work on the stain on my shirt."

"No, you go, and I'll get this." She couldn't tear her eyes off him as he headed down the hallway. He glanced into her bedroom and saw her pageant gown hanging on a hook, but no signs of paperwork or even a computer.

Once in the bathroom, he removed his shirt, using the moment to collect himself and plan his next move. He'd purposely left the door open, and in the mirror, he saw her glance his way. He smiled deviously because he now had a plan and one he would enjoy.

*****

Eleanor materialized inside Detective Donatelli's office, bumping into a small table and knocking some papers to the floor. As she picked them up, she muttered, "I must be tired. My landings are a bit out of sorts."

The room was empty except for the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. The door opened, and Dr. Rosa Galotti stepped in, surprised to see Eleanor.

"Oh, I should have knocked. I didn't know anyone was here." She waved a folder in the air and then placed it on the desk.

Eleanor smiled politely. "I'm waiting for Matthew. Have you seen him?"

Rosa adjusted her glasses, and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I believe Matthew and his friend are at the hospital, waiting to question the man who fell from the scaffolding."

"His friend?" Eleanor suspected she meant Danni but was surprised the doctor knew about her.

"I still don't know how he did it, but he had me believing his new sidekick was a ghost."

Eleanor's eyebrow arched. "A ghost?"

"Yeah, silly, huh? But they really had me going! For the likes of me, I can't figure out how they did it."

"Magic, I guess."

"I'm lucky I don't have this other guy in my morgue, too, according to the detective." She sighed. "Well, I've got enough work waiting for me." She turned to go, adding, "Not that they will be going anywhere." She laughed at her own joke and waved goodbye.

As the door closed, Eleanor's body shimmered and faded away. She knew the kidnapping was a ruse, a ploy to isolate Hilda, but why? Whatever the reason, the girl was in danger, and she needed to find Donatelli fast.

*****

Eleanor popped into the hospital's fourth-floor bathroom, the smell of a strong air freshener blasting her nostrils as she materialized. Quickly adjusting herself, she stepped out and rushed through the door, only to collide with Donatelli in the hallway.

"Are you lost, Eleanor?" Matthew chuckled, one eyebrow raised and a smile playing on his lips.

"No, of course not!" Eleanor replied as she gained her composure. "I was looking for you."

Matthew pointed at the door behind her. "In there?"

She turned her head, her eyes widening as she read the sign on the door. It was marked "MEN."

"Oh dear, my coordinates must be off," she said with a nervous laugh. She brushed a strand of hair from her face. "But I need to talk to you. It's urgent! You need to come with me."

Before he could respond, a cool and slightly mocking voice echoed around them: "Fat chance of that happening. He's zeroed in on the scaffolding victim, and his one-track mind can't think of anything else."

Eleanor's expression hardened. "Hello, Danni. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. If he doesn't get to Hilda, there's going to be another victim."

"Hilda? Isn't that the sister of the guy Matthew arrested?" Danni inquired.

"I didn't arrest him. I brought him in for questioning." Donatelli snarled, not sure where Danni was at.

Danni tapped his shoulder from behind. "Okay, but you left the guy there and raced off to the next crime scene."

"Can you two stop bickering? I'm trying to tell you that Johan has kidnapped Hilda."

"Kidnapped! And who's this Johan guy? Dispatch hasn't told me anything about a kidnapping."

"Johan's story will keep for another time. For now, we must find Hilda." Eleanor pleaded.

Matthew's smile faded. "You're serious. You think this girl is in trouble?"

"Sophia told me what happened this morning, and I believe the scaffolding accident was a diversion so Johan could get to Hilda."
 
"Some diversion. Doctor says his spine is damaged."

Eleanor lowered her voice. "Hilda went with Johan because she believes her parents sent him, and they went to get Klaus out of that jail of yours. But Johan has other plans. Matthew, I am sure of it."

"Then, I need to check and see if they are at the precinct."

"I was just there. I didn't sense that they were anywhere around."

"Do you know where she lives? Maybe they went to her place."

"Ask Jenna or Emily. They should have her address on file."

"Okay, I trust your instincts, Eleanor. Let's get Jenna on the phone. This guy might be in surgery for hours."

"I'm ahead of you, boss. Got the address right here." A paper floated toward the detective.

He grabbed it out of the air and looked around. "Was that necessary?"
 
"Maybe!" Danni laughed. "Got to remind you that I'm still here someway, right?"
 
"Then, let's go." He stopped and grinned. "Sorry, but we have to take my car. I haven't learned how to fly yet."

"And the way you are going, my friend, you'll never learn." Danni snickered. "They only let the angels in and that's unlikely you'll qualify."

Eleanor rolled her eyes. "Danni, behave yourself. We've got work to do."

Author Notes
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 11
Spirited Justice Chap 11

By Begin Again

Johan stood outside Hilda's bedroom door — shirtless. His wet shirt hung from a hook in the bathroom. He was ready to put his plan into action.

"Hilda?"

The sound of her name sent a shiver down her spine as she leaned against the kitchen counter. Her hands trembled as she tried to steady her breathing. Trying to think, she moved to the kitchen table, gathered the breakfast dishes, and put them in the sink.

"Hilda? Where'd you go?"

Hilda's heart raced, her mind replaying the image of Johan shirtless in the bathroom. The sight of his muscular physique had taken her breath away.

She hesitated, gripping the counter's edge as she battled with herself. Her instincts told her to stay, to avoid the situation. But a deeper, more curious part of her — the part that was undeniably drawn to Johan — urged her to answer.

She bit her lip, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks as she thought of him waiting in the hallway for her. She knew she shouldn't go, but the pull was too strong.

Finally, with a shaky breath, she answered, "Coming, Johan." Her legs felt like they would give way, but she forced herself to move slowly to the hallway.

As she turned the corner, she could see him standing between the bathroom and her bedroom door. Her heart fluttered rapidly against her chest as their eyes met. He smiled, and a small, nervous smile flickered across her lips.

Johan's eyes roamed over her, and he stepped closer, bridging the distance between them. Hilda swallowed hard, her body responding to his nearness in ways she couldn't control.

"I was wondering — could I borrow a shirt from your brother? Mine's soaked, and I don't think it will dry any time soon."

Caught off guard by his request, Hilda stammered, "Umm, my brother's not here right now."

Johan tilted his head and stepped closer — his voice was warm and coaxing. "I'm sure he won't mind if I borrow one unless you prefer me to walk around shirtless until mine dries."

Hilda felt cornered. She finally nodded, unable to think of a reason to refuse. "I — I have some fresh laundry in my room. Maybe there is something —"

Without a moment's hesitation, Johan pushed the door open wider. Hilda stepped into her bedroom and headed straight for the laundry basket. She fumbled through the folded clothes, trying to steady her nerves by keeping her back to Johan. She felt her face flush as she sensed him behind her.

Johan's eyes wandered around the room, stopping on the stunning dress. He walked across the room, gently lifting it from the hanger. The fabric felt delicate in his hands. He turned to Hilda with a sly grin.

"This is beautiful, Hilda. Is it what you're going to wear when you make your big presentation?"

Hilda froze, unable to breathe, as he approached her with the dress. He held it up in front of her, his fingers grazing her shoulders. She shivered at the contact, feeling trapped yet strangely drawn to him.

Breathless, she whispered, "It's just — for the one night."

Johan leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear, whispering, "You'll look stunning." His voice was almost hypnotic. "Please, won't you try it on for me? I can't wait to see how perfect it is."

Hilda's mind spun, knowing she shouldn't, but his presence was overpowering. Against her better judgment, she nodded. Her voice was barely audible. "Okay, but just for a moment."

Johan's smile widened as he stepped back, watching her closely. Hilda took the dress from his hands. "You'll have to wait in the hallway while I get changed."

Johan smiled and stepped back to the doorway, leaving it slightly ajar. He peered through the opening, his eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Hilda took a deep breath and began to undress, her back turned to the door. Her nerves were screaming as she quickly removed her shirt and slacks.

As he watched her undress, Johan asked, "Are you decent yet?"

Timid like a mouse, Hilda answered, "Not yet."

But Johan decided not to wait. With a sly grin, he quietly pushed the door open wide and stepped inside, quickly closing the space between him and Hilda.

She gasped and spun around, trying to cover herself.

In a low, teasing voice, he asks, "Need a little help?"

She tried to back away, but he was too close — his intentions clear.
 
*****

The cruiser sped down the city streets, its lights flashing as Donatelli navigated through the traffic. Eleanor occupied the front passenger seat while Danni hung out in the back.

Eleanor's voice quivered with urgency as she voiced her concern for the third time. "Matthew, we need to hurry. The girl's in danger."

Matthew gritted his teeth, then snarled, "You aren't one hundred percent positive that this guy means her harm."

Eleanor huffed, "Who stages a scaffolding diversion to get a girl out of the building unless he's got something planned?"

"There is no proof that connects the two things. We can't be jumping to conclusions."

Danni finally piped in. "I hate to admit it, Eleanor, but he's got a point. Maybe the guy just wanted some time with Hilda and chose that moment to slip away with her."

"I trust my instincts and Sophia's, too. I know Hilda's in danger."

The detective swerved around a car, tossing his passengers from side to side. "It's not like I can teleport, and I've got laws to follow, and the traffic's a nightmare. You'd think people couldn't see the lights flashing."

"Eleanor and I could have been there and back twice by now."

"Yeah, yeah! I get it! But unfortunately, I can't just float through traffic. Mortals have to deal with it the old-fashioned way, whether you like it or not."

Danni sighed, "Come on, Donatelli, my grandmother drives faster than you. Surely, you've got some shortcuts up your sleeve."

"If only! But in the meantime, I'll do my best to get us there in one piece. You two might not care, but I don't have plans for dying today."

*****

The detective pulled the cruiser to the curb in front of Hilda's apartment. He glanced in the rearview mirror, rolling his eyes but smiling despite himself. "Your chariot has arrived. Now, which building is it, Danni?"

Danni looked at the note on which she'd scribbled the address. "Building C." She allowed her form to fade as they climbed out of the vehicle. "This sucks! I should be able to be just like you, Eleanor."

"I know." Eleanor nodded but still focused on the matters at hand. She pointed toward a tall high-rise with a large cement C on the front. "Come on. It's the building over there. I hope we aren't too late."

The trio hurried down the walkway toward Building C and the front doors. Donatelli grabbed the door handle and frowned. "They've got a locked entrance. Now, how do we get in? Anyone see an intercom so we can call the apartment?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I don't see anything except this pad where you punch in a code."

Matthew grumbled, "Great! Now what?"

Eleanor looked around and saw a man approaching them. She put on her most distressed look and wailed, "I'm sorry, Matthew. I just moved in and forgot the code."

Hearing her, the gentleman smiled. "It happens all the time. I can open the door with my code." He punched it in and opened the door, offering Eleanor a warm smile. "I'm in Suite 412 if you ever need help again."

He held the door open as Eleanor and Donatelli passed through, and Danni's translucent form floated by. Eleanor oozed with gratitude as she smiled and said, "Thank you so much. You're a lifesaver. I'll remember 412, for sure."

The man smiled and nodded at Donatelli before greeting a friend in the lobby.

Danni giggled at Eleanor. "Still strutting your stuff!"

Eleanor laughed. "If you've got it, why not flaunt it?"

Donatelli scowled. "Both of you are something else." A smile crept across his face as they moved toward the elevator. Eleanor waved to the man as the door closed.

*****

The trio exited the elevator on the sixth floor. The sign for Suite 624 pointed to their left.

"Looks like she's at the end of the hallway." Donatelli headed that way with the girls close behind.

He knocked on the door and waited. No one answered. His frustration mounted as he knocked again.

"We've got to find out if they are here." Eleanor moaned.

"No one answered, and I can't break in without a warrant."

Still not visible, Danni's voice echoed with determination, "I'm going in."

"You're not listening. We can't without a warrant," Donatelli snarled.

Eleanor stepped forward. "You need a warrant, but I don't."

"And she's not going without me," Danni added.

Without hesitation, Eleanor and Danni passed through the door, their forms becoming translucent before solidifying inside the apartment.

The two women found themselves standing in Hilda's living room. A few breakfast dishes were untouched on the table, and more were sitting on the kitchen counter.

Danni whispered, "Someone's been here."

Eleanor nodded. "And I think they still are." She pointed toward the closed doors in the hallway. "I'll unlock the front door for Matthew."

While she unlocked the door, Danni quietly eased her way down the hallway. The muffled sounds had grown louder, more desperate.

Eleanor rejoined Danni and nodded her head. They both faded into their translucent bodies and passed through the wall into the bedroom, materializing, one on each side of the bed.

Johan held Hilda down, a pillow pressed against her mouth. His eyes widened in shock as he saw the two women.

He stammered, "What the — Who are you?"

Danni answered in her best Clint Eastwood drawl, "Your worst nightmare."

Far too cocky, Johan laughed. "What's an old lady and a skinny toothpick gonna do, huh? You want some of this?"

He let go of Hilda and jumped off the bed, moving toward the door as if to escape.

Calmly, Eleanor bent over, and with a flick of her wrist, the throw rug beneath Johan's feet slid from under him. He stumbled, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance.

"Guess the old lady is faster than you think."

Danni's anger flared as he stumbled, and she raised one of the bedside lamps above her head, ready to strike. But Eleanor's foot tripped Johan before she could throw it, sending him crashing to the floor.

Donatelli rushed into the room with his gun drawn. "Freeze!" He looked at the girls, muttering, "I'll take it from here."

Johan mumbled, "You needed two women."

Donatelli pulled him to his feet and cuffed him as he grinned. "You don't know the half of it!"

Danni lowered the lamp and faded, her form translucent before disappearing entirely. She felt satisfied that she had participated in the action but sad that her role was over.

Eleanor hurried to Hilda's side. Her concern was evident as she knelt beside the shaken woman. "It's okay, Hilda. You're safe now."

Trembling, Hilda clutched Eleanor's arm tightly, her voice shaking and filled with fear. "How did you — no one knew."

"Sophia told me that you'd gone with Johan. She was worried."

Tears welled in Hilda's eyes as the reality of what almost happened sunk in. "I trusted him. He was going to —"

Eleanor wrapped her arms around Hilda, holding her close, offering her warmth and a moment of protection. "Don't think about it right now. Just be happy that we found you in time."

Hilda nodded and took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself. She glanced around the room, confused. "Weren't there — two of you?"

Eleanor smiled, understanding Hilda's confusion. "Oh, sweetheart, sometimes when we are scared, our minds play tricks. It was just me, here with you, until Detective Donatelli arrived. The stress and everything that happened made things a little fuzzy."

Hilda frowned as she tried to reconcile what she thought she saw with what Eleanor said. "Maybe — but I thought —"

"Don't worry about it, dear. You've been through a lot, but now you are safe, and that's all that matters."

Hilda nodded. "Thank heavens for Sophia."

"Yes, she's a very good friend."

"Johan was supposedly a friend of my parents. He knew about my research and my presentation. I didn't expect him to —"

Alarms went off in Eleanor's mind. "Your research and presentation? Is that what you're doing for the pageant?"

Hilda nodded. "I'm supposed to keep it quiet, but Johan knew."

"Did he ask about it?"

"He even asked if I kept it in a safe spot."

"You didn't tell him, did you?" Eleanor quickly added one plus one in her mind and came up with a possible connection to the pageant. Hilda leaned into Eleanor's embrace, finding comfort and letting go of her unsettling thoughts while Eleanor added to her own.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Bennett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 12
Spirited Justice Chap 12

By Begin Again

Warning: The author has noted that this contains the highest level of violence.

Naomi rubbed her temples, trying to relieve the day's frustrations. Even after several days, the office buzzed with conversations about the mysterious circumstances of Arthur Beckett's death.

Her gaze was distant as she sat at her desk and stared blankly out the window. The overcast sky mirrored her somber mood. She didn't notice the soft knock at her door or the figure that appeared there until a voice gently broke through her reverie.

"Naomi, are you okay?"

Startled, she blinked and turned to see her co-worker, a young office trainee, standing on the threshold, concerned. "What?"

"I was bringing you the mail, but you looked upset. I asked if you were okay or needed anything."

Naomi forced a small smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "No, I was just thinking about Arthur's tragic death. The police say it was murder."

The girl's hand flew to her mouth in shock. "Arthur murdered? He seemed like such a nice man, always offering to help me." She shook her head in disbelief. "Why would anyone want to murder him?"

Dark thoughts flickered through Naomi's mind — Jose, Mexico, Beckett's pandering to the young women, and the blackmail. The memories threatened to consume her, but she pushed them down, keeping a calm facade. "I haven't any idea," she replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil she felt within.

"Wasn't he staying with you for a while? Could he have left a clue of what was happening with him?" She laughed. "Sorry, I guess I watch too many mystery movies."

Naomi shrugged, but she could feel her heart beating against her chest. "I haven't given it a thought. It seems too strange to rummage through his private things."

"Well, they are in your house. Who else is going to claim anything? Certainly not his ex-wife unless he left a suitcase full of money." She gulped, and her eyes widened. "I can't believe I said that out loud. I apologize. It's all gossip, and I don't even know the woman."

Naomi smiled. "It's fine. Everyone knows she took him for every cent she could get. It wasn't an amicable divorce."

"I still can't believe someone would kill him regardless of what they say he had done."

Naomi nodded slowly. "You're right. There could be a clue somewhere leading to a suspect. I'll mention it to the police."

An icy chill crept up her spine as the words left her lips. The thought struck her like a hammer — what if she was next? The room seemed to close in around her. She fought to remain calm, but the fear had already taken root, gnawing at the edges of her mind, threatening to overwhelm her.

*****

With the afternoon hours being unproductive, Naomi resigned herself to leaving and putting in an appearance at Arthur Beckett's memorial. She wasn't in the mood for small talk with others, but it was the proper thing to do.

Inside the building, Naomi stood in a nearly empty room except for rows and rows of memorial bouquets, a symbol of respect without being present. As she signed her name in the guest book, she knew that even those who had come had not remained.

In the far corner, a man sat in a Queen Anne chair, his face obscured by dark glasses and a wide-brimmed hat. Naomi couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched, but he remained still every time she glanced his way, almost as if he were lifeless.

Uncomfortable standing alone, Naomi turned to leave, her footsteps echoing in the space. As she reached the door, a prickling sensation crawled up her neck. Looking over her shoulder, she realized the room was empty. The man in the chair was nowhere to be seen.

She quickly hailed a taxi, her heart racing from the eerie encounter. She climbed in and gave the driver her home address, eager to distance herself from the unsettling memorial.

As the taxi pulled from the curb, the man from the memorial slipped inside the black sedan waiting at the curb. The car's engine purred to life as it fell behind the taxi, following Naomi into the night.

*****

Naomi paid the taxi driver and hurried across the front entranceway into her building's foyer. Once inside the elevator, she could let go of the tension. She was home and safe.

She entered the apartment, kicked off her shoes, and dropped her purse and briefcase on the sofa. Mechanically, she moved through the kitchen, fixed herself a sandwich, and poured a glass of wine.

She carried her meal to the living room, sinking into the plush armchair by the window. Except for a tiny bite, the sandwich remained untouched as her thoughts whirled around Beckett's death and what he might have been involved in. She knew it had to be something more than the cover-up of the murder in Mexico.

Question after question gnawed at her. Finally, she stood and walked to the bookcase. Her fingers hesitated for a moment before she pulled back the book. The shelves clicked softly and then swung open, revealing his secret domain.

She stepped inside, pausing as a flashback of Arthur huddled over the equipment flashed through her mind. She remembered how secretive he'd been and insisted she did not come in. Now, considering the circumstances, she questioned why she hadn't been more curious about what he was doing and why he didn't want her to know. But then, after the Mexico trip, she didn't want to know what other dark secrets he might have had.

Naomi tried the computer, but her attempts to log in were futile. She had no idea what the password was, nor did she understand why he had two computers.

Frustrated but determined to learn about what went on inside her home, she began searching through the boxes.

Her heart pounded as she frantically pulled open the drawers, her fingers trembling as she rifled through the papers. As she tugged at one of the last drawers, it resisted slightly before sliding free. She turned it over, and there, taped to the back, was an envelope — worn, yellowed with time, and marked My Security.

Her hands shook as she peeled the envelope away and tore it open. Inside, a single note and a small, engraved key tumbled out. Naomi hesitated before unfolding the note, dread pooling in her stomach. The familiar scrawl read:

"If you found this, Naomi, my past has likely caught up to me. I am sorry for having exposed you to the threats. You might know that by now, but if not, you soon will. You aren't safe. Take the contents of the box and disappear. Find a new life before this one ends."

The engraved key felt cold in her hand, the letters Landen B12 glinting in the dim light. Her breath turned ragged, and a wave of fear consumed her as the reality of Arthur's words registered. Was it Mexico or something else that he was warning her about?

Crushing the paper in her fist, she struggled to use her professional mind to decide her next steps. After all, she was a lawyer. What would she tell a client?

Call the police! Call Donatelli. He would protect her, or would he? It was his job, but it was clear their personal life had come between them. What would happen if and when he learned about Mexico? What if there were things to incriminate her inside the box?

Her next thought was Angelo. He already knew about the cover-up and Jose's blackmail. Then she remembered his recent visit, and her head filled with doubt. Would he be on her side or his clients? What had he wanted that day?

Naomi's breathing was shallow, mixed with panic-filled gasps as she slumped into the chair by the desk, her head buried in her hands. The small room suddenly felt like a cell, and the walls were closing in on her. She couldn't believe what was happening — she was caught in the crosshairs of whatever Arthur was involved in.

As she lowered her hands, trying to find composure, her eyes shifted to a document on the desk. It was his divorce decree, but what made her blood run colder was the note scrawled across the top in bold, red ink — She knows!

What did he mean? Who is "she"? A dozen questions swirled in Naomi's mind, each more terrifying than the last. Did his ex-wife discover something sinister? Something that made her so angry she might have wanted him dead? Or was he referring to something even darker —something she had only begun to scratch the surface of?

Her fingers trembled as she reached to touch the decree, the red ink now seeming like blood on the page. The note from the envelope and the key to Landen B12 suddenly took on a new, menacing significance. What was inside that safety deposit box? How many secrets did Arthur have? The fear gnawing at her gut told her that whatever she discovered might be far worse than she could imagine.

The divorce between Patti and Arthur had been nasty. When she had learned of his womanizing and high-roller spending, she'd gone for the jugular, taking every penny she could get. That's why Arthur had lived in her apartment for the last few months. Could an argument have gone wrong, or was Patti capable of cold-blooded murder?

She turned the key over in her palm. A chill raced down her spine. There was another possibility — a deeper, more dangerous truth that could unravel everything Naomi thought she knew about Arthur Beckett —  and herself.

Exhausted, she sighed and left the room, desperate to escape the shadows lurking in every corner, remnants of the past, and the promise of danger that loomed over her own life.

Her hands trembled as she taped the key and letter behind the framed picture in her bedroom. After securing the items, she turned off the lights, hoping the darkness would bring peace.

*****

The black sedan parked in the shadows, its engine idling quietly as the two men inside watched the apartment across the street. Jose tapped his fingers impatiently on the armrest. Beside him, the driver, a silent figure with a cap pulled low over his brow, watched the lights in Naomi's apartment. The minutes stretched like hours as they waited, the tension inside the car growing with each passing second.

"When those lights go out," Jose muttered, his eyes narrowing, "we move."

The driver nodded, cracking his knuckles in anticipation. He'd done this kind of work before and knew when to wait and the time to act.

As soon as the lights in Naomi's apartment went off, the tension in the car snapped, and both men exited the vehicle. The driver, towering over Jose, fell in step behind him as they crossed the street, blending into the shadows.

The building's entrance loomed ahead, and they paused only briefly before opting for the stairs. The driver took the lead, his heavy boots making surprisingly little noise as he ascended the narrow stairwell.

Reaching her floor, the second man paused and checked the hallway. Signaling it was clear. They slipped down the corridor and stopped outside her door. Jose's hand hovered over the lock. He pulled out a set of tools with practiced ease and worked the lock. It clicked open in seconds, the door swinging silently on its hinges as he slipped inside. The apartment was quiet, save for the soft creak of floorboards beneath their feet. The bookcase standing away from the wall surprised Jose. It was something they wouldn't have found. He mouthed a "thank you, Naomi" as the two entered the secret room. Both men shoved their flashlights into their pockets since the lights were also on.

With the stealth of well-rehearsed criminals, they checked drawers and boxes in search of the papers. Jose's breath hissed through clenched teeth as his search turned up nothing.

"Anything?" the driver asks in a low voice, his tone more a growl than a whisper.

"Nothing yet," Jose snapped, slamming a drawer shut. "They've got to be here."

Desperate and enraged, Jose turned his attention to Naomi's bedroom. She stirred at the sound of the door creaking open, but it was too late. He was on her in an instant, his hands wrapped around her throat as she struggled, her eyes wide with terror.

She fought with every ounce of strength she had, but Jose's grip tightened, her vision blurring as she gasped for air. Just as she felt consciousness slipping away, he dropped her and knelt beside her limp body, rage written across his face.

"Where are the papers?" he demanded, his voice sharp as he leaned closer. "Beckett's papers — where are they?"
 
She whimpered, "I don't know anything about papers."

"Don't lie to me, Naomi!" Jose's voice is a harsh whisper, each word laced with venom. "The papers! I know they're here. Beckett didn't just leave you with nothing, so where are they?"

Naomi shook her head frantically, her voice breaking as she pleaded with him. "What papers? I don't know what you are talking about, I swear!"

"Bullshit!" Jose shoved her against the bed, his face inches from hers, eyes blazing with fury. "You think you can hide this from me? You're way over your head, sweetheart. You've got one chance to save yourself — tell me where those papers are, or I'll make sure you regret it."

"I don't know!" Naomi sobbed. "Please, Jose. Arthur never told me —"

"You're lying!" Jose's voice roared. He studied her for a moment, then nodded to the driver, who sneered as he pulled a knife from his belt. The blade caught the faint light, and Naomi's eyes widened in horror as he and Jose exchanged places.

"No, don't do this, Jose."

"Listen, lady," the driver growled, pressing the cold steel against her side. "You've got one chance to make this easy on yourself. Tell us where those papers are, or things are gonna get ugly."

"I told you I don't know!" Naomi sobbed, her voice trembling with fear. "Please —"

Jose watched her closely, his expression hardening. He knew she was hiding something, but her fear seemed genuine. He glanced at the driver, who looked back at him, waiting for the order.

"Do it," Jose said coldly.

Without hesitation, the driver plunged the knife into Naomi's side, silencing her scream with a brutal twist of the blade. She crumpled to the floor, gasping in agony as blood pooled beneath her.

The driver stepped back, wiping the blade on the bedspread as he glanced at Jose. "We're done here."

Jose nodded, though a part of him wondered if they'd missed something — if Naomi was telling the truth after all. But there was no time to dwell on it. The sound of a door opening, followed by footsteps, caught the driver's attention. He motioned to Jose, pointing toward the back of the apartment. Without hesitating, the two men slipped out of the apartment as silently as they came, leaving Naomi bleeding and alone in the dark.

As they disappeared into the night, Naomi clung to consciousness, knowing she had to survive — if not for herself, then to protect the secret hidden behind the picture frame. The key and the letter stood between her and the darkness, threatening to claim her.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 13
Spirited Justice Chap 13

By Begin Again

Being cautious, Angelo had parked his car a block away, blending it into the shadows of a quiet side street. He had moved quickly, staying close to the buildings as he approached Naomi's apartment. His pulse had quickened when he spotted a black sedan parked across the street. The car was a bad sign — Jose was here and, most likely, not alone.

He hadn't wasted a second. He'd slipped into the alleyway beside Naomi's building and took the back stairs two at a time, his senses on high alert. He'd reached the landing and found the spare key under the mat, the cold metal familiar in his hand. He silently unlocked the kitchen door and pushed it open, just in time to see two men sprinting out the front entrance.

"Naomi!" he called out, his voice tinged with fear.

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen and living room, catching sight of the ransacked secret room. His heart pounded harder when he saw the chaos inside, but she wasn't there. Panic flared in his mind, urging him to move faster.

He raced down the hallway, dread twisted in his stomach like a slithering snake with each step. Bursting into her bedroom, Angelo's breath caught in his throat. The sight before him made his blood run cold. Naomi lay sprawled on the floor, motionless in a pool of blood seeping around her, staining the carpet a deep crimson. The sight was like a punch to the gut, freezing him in place for a split second.

"No — no, no, no," Angelo whispered, rushing to her side. He dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he gently lifted her head. "Naomi, please wake up."

For agonizing seconds, there was nothing. Then, her eyelids fluttered, and a faint moan escaped her lips. Her gaze found his, filled with pain and fear. "Angelo, help me," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Angelo's mind raced. He knew he couldn't take her to the hospital. Jose would indeed find her there. And calling the police was out of the question; the situation was far too complicated and dangerous. He had to think fast.

Carefully, he scooped her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. He could feel her weak breath against his neck, and it spurred him into action. He needed to get her somewhere safe, somewhere hidden.

As Angelo carried her out of the apartment, a cold knot of fear tightened in his chest. The streets outside were eerily quiet, too quiet for his liking. He scanned the shadows, every dark corner and parked car, his instincts on high alert. He couldn't shake the feeling that Jose might still be nearby. The black sedan was gone, but that didn't mean Jose was.

Staying in the shadows, he carried her the block to his car. Every noise, every car passing by, sent a chill up his spine. After what seemed an eternity, he reached the car and gently laid her in the backseat. His eyes darted around the dimly lit street.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he slid into the driver's seat. A pair of approaching headlights glared in his rearview mirror. He waited, holding his breath and praying it wasn't the black sedan. As the car drove by, he expelled the air and started the car. His mind raced. Was that a shadow moving in the distance? Or was it just his imagination? He took one last look around and pulled away.

As he drove, he kept an eye on the mirror. His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. Every car that appeared behind him, every pair of headlights in the distance, sent a jolt of anxiety through him. He took a winding route, doubling back on streets, taking a side turn, anything to ensure he wasn't being followed.

He could barely hear Naomi's weak breaths as he drove. He contacted a retired doctor he knew who owed him a favor and could be trusted to keep this off the radar. The doctor agreed to meet them at the cabin.

*****

The tension in his chest eased slightly as Angelo navigated the final stretch of the dirt road leading to the secluded cabin. The woods closed in around them, their thick canopy providing cover from prying eyes. He was confident no one had followed him, yet it didn't erase the nagging worry that had settled in the pit of his stomach.

When he reached the cabin, Angelo parked his car and stepped out. The night was quiet except for the soft chirping of crickets. He carefully lifted Naomi from the backseat, cradling her against his chest as he approached the front door.

The cabin was dark except for a faint glow from the kitchen window. Angelo paused. He hadn't seen any cars, but the light suggested someone was inside. He couldn't afford to take any chances.

He laid Naomi on the wicker settee, took his gun out of the holster, and nudged the door open. As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately landed on a shadowy figure near the kitchen table. His heart skipped a beat. His finger gripped the trigger.

The warm aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air. The figure turned, and in the dim light, Angelo recognized the face.

"Jake?" Angelo's voice filled with relief.

The doctor nodded, setting down the coffee pot he'd been pouring from. "I hadn't been far from here when you called — my car's out back where your dad and I used to park. I hope you don't mind that I let myself in. Where's our patient?"

Angelo let out a long sigh of relief. "Of course not, but I must admit you gave me a scare." Angelo replaced his gun in the holster. "I'll get Naomi. She's right outside."

He stepped outside and returned carrying her, carefully laying her on the bed. "She's in bad shape. Doc."

Dr. Jake Hale, his dad's old fishing buddy, moved quickly to Naomi's side, his medical bag in hand.

"She's lost a lot of blood." Angelo swallowed hard. "It wasn't safe to take her to the hospital."

Jake nodded as he examined her, his hands moving with practiced efficiency. "Jose? This is Carlos Hernandez's son, right?"

Angelo nodded. "One and the same."

"You made the right call bringing her here," Jake murmured. "This wasn't a close call, Ang. She's lucky to be still alive." While he checked her vitals, he glanced toward Angelo. "There's a bag of O-negative blood in the refrigerator. Let's get it connected. Then I can stitch her up."

Angelo retrieved the blood. "Thanks, Doc. You thought of everything."

"That's my job. Besides, I owe you and your dad."

Angelo stared out the window, half expecting to see someone lurking in the darkness, but there was nothing — just the quiet of the woods and the occasional rustle of the leaves in the breeze.

As the night deepened, the cabin was steeped in a heavy silence, broken only by the crackling of the fire Angelo had lit to keep Naomi warm. Jake had left, promising to return with more supplies in the morning.

Naomi lay on the bed, her face pale and her breath shallow. Angelo sat beside her, his thumb gently stroking her cold fingers. His heart ached as he studied her fragile body, feeling helpless by everything that had happened.

"Please, Naomi," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you to pull through this. You need to know how much you mean to me."

His words hung in the air. He didn't know how to channel his desperation and fear. Naomi's life was on the line, and the danger was far from over. Jose was still out there, and Angelo knew he couldn't protect her alone.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against her hand. "We need help. Big time help. I don't know how we will get out of this mess, but I know I can't do it alone. I need you to stay with me, okay? I promise I'll find help."

Angelo closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing.
 
A voice broke the quiet. "Will I do?"

He jerked upright, his heart racing. He hadn't heard anyone enter, but a shimmering shadow stood in the doorway.

"Eleanor!" He fought to catch his breath. "You startled me."

She offered an understanding smile as she moved closer to the bed, her eyes shifting to Naomi and then to him. "I heard your call for help." Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at Naomi. "It seems like you're in quite a bit of trouble."

Angelo nodded, running a hand through his hair. "You have no idea, but how did you find us?"

"You might say my heart works like a homing pigeon. When someone I care about needs me, I sense it. You asked for help, and I came." She held out her hand. "Come, have some coffee and something to eat. We need to talk."

"We can talk, but there's nothing here except for coffee."

Eleanor smiled. "That's not a worry. I'll order in." With a snap of her fingers, a large plate filled with a double burger, french fries, and cole slaw appeared on the table. "This should do for now."

For the first time all day, Angelo smiled. "Where have you been all my life? I didn't know I was hungry until now."

"I'll order groceries later, but can you eat and talk simultaneously for now?"

"For you, I'll even stand on my head if you want."

"I'll settle for the first two. Now, tell me what's going on." Eleanor poured him some coffee and settled into the chair across from him. "Let's have it."

Angelo took a huge bite out of the hamburger and smiled. "You're the best!"

"I appreciate the accolades, but I need you to tell me what's going on so I can help. It looks as if the young lady is in bad shape."

It's Jose — he's not going to stop until he gets what he wants. If he finds out she's still alive, he'll come after her again. If I hadn't arrived when I did, she would not be here right now."

Eleanor's expression hardened. "Jose from Mexico? I thought his father ordered him to stay out of the States."

"He doesn't listen too well. Flew as a stowaway on Carlos's plane when I was coming back from the Vila. Now Carlos blames me."

"Jose is a grown man, isn't he? Why does his father think you can be his babysitter?"

"There's more to it than that. All I know is that Carlos ordered me to get some papers from Naomi. But Jose had plans of his own."

"That explains his conversation with those men at the airport. I didn't understand everything, but they were determined to get some papers. I might have misunderstood, but I thought they were Beckett's papers, not Naomi's."

"They are, but he had everything at her apartment after the divorce. So since he's dead, they believe she's got them."

"What's so special about these papers?"

Angelo hesitated, glancing at Naomi before meeting Eleanor's gaze. "I don't know if I have all the details. It has something to do with a young woman who was in the pageant a few years ago. Supposedly, she was murdered, and her research papers disappeared. Beckett was investigating the case. He was the lawyer for her father."

Eleanor's eyes widened as she listened. Her mind raced as she connected the dots. "A pageant contestant is murdered, and her research papers disappear. Did they find a suspect?"

"Yeah, her father. He's serving time in the state prison."

"Her father? Why would he kill his own daughter for her research? He would have plenty of opportunity to copy it if he wanted."

"Makes sense to me. But the jury convicted him, even though he claimed he was innocent."

"And the papers?"

"No one ever found them, at least until now. Arthur and Naomi spent a weekend partying in Mexico with Jose, and according to Carlos, Beckett told Jose he had them."

"Angelo, remember that University student at the airport? He tried to rape a young girl today. Her name is Hilda and she also was presenting her research work to the pageant. There must be a connection."

"You think the two girls and their research are connected somehow?"

Eleanor nodded. "It's too much of a coincidence. I wonder if there have been any other similar cases over the years?"

Angelo felt a chill run down his spine. "If that's true, those papers are even more dangerous to whomever has them than I thought. We need to find them before Jose does — or worse, before someone else pulling the strings gets to them."

"You need to stay with Naomi. Is the doctor coming back in the morning?"

"Yes, Jake said he would."

"Can he be trusted?"

"With my life, Eleanor. He's an old army buddy of Dad's, and they are brothers to the core."

"Okay. I'm going to leave and see if I can round up some reinforcements. If you need me, call me."

"There's only sporadic phone reception out here."

"Just yell. I'll hear you wherever I am." Eleanor smiled and faded into the night.

Angelo laughed. "That woman's got some strange ways, but she sure can whip a good meal." Angelo popped a salty french fry into his mouth. "Think I'll keep her around."

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy


Chapter 14
Spirited Justice Chap 14

By Begin Again

 
 
 
Aware of the security cameras surrounding the FBI Headquarters, Eleanor materialized in a narrow alleyway between a bustling coffee shop and an antique store. Trash bins, discarded boxes, and a few pieces of broken furniture cluttered the alleyway. Near a dumpster, a man in a rumpled, mismatched suit lay sprawled out, sleeping off the remnants of last night's drunk.

Her sudden appearance startled two stray alley cats rummaging in the dumpster for food. They jumped and landed squarely on the man's chest, jolting him awake.

Eleanor, adjusting her suit and smoothing a stray wisp of hair, watched as the man sat up, gently picking up the cats and nuzzling them.

He groggily mumbled to the cats. "It's okay, pals. We weren't expecting company, now, were we?"

Eleanor offered a warm smile. "Sorry to disturb you, but I guess I made a wrong turn."

Rubbing his eyes, he stared at her, still not sure he was seeing her. "You sure did, lady. Ain't no Hilton back here."

Eleanor stepped around him carefully to avoid the scattered garbage. "Actually, I'm looking for the FBI Headquarters."

"Those folks don't exactly have a reputation for their hospitality," he said, shaking his head and pointing down the alley.

Eleanor chuckled. "I think I can handle them." She turned to leave.

He grinned. "Yeah, I bet you can. My pals and I wish you a good day."

Eleanor answered, "Thanks, you, too!"

With a snap of her fingers, the man found a steaming Styrofoam cup of coffee in one hand and a hot breakfast in the other. The aroma of sausage and bacon filled the air. Two cans of tuna fish appeared by his leg for the cats.

The man stared at the food in disbelief. "Lady, am I hallucfying?"

Eleanor suppressed her laughter. "I think you mean hallucinating, and no, you aren't. It's just a little trick I picked up. Enjoy!"

As Eleanor walked away, the man quickly grabbed a piece of bacon and shoved it into his mouth. He stared at Eleanor as she disappeared around the corner.

He mumbled, That's some trick." and yelled at her. "Thanks! Come back anytime!"

He scratched the cats' heads as they feasted on the tuna.

He shook his head and smiled. "Kit and Kat, we must be dreaming in technicolor. Let's eat before I wake up, and it's gone." He shoved another piece of bacon into his mouth, letting a satisfying moan escape through his lips.

*****

As their morning began, FBI agents and staff filled the bustling lobby. Eleanor spotted Tango and Poppa chatting with a few other agents near the reception desk as she entered through the front entrance.

Trying to appear unaware of their presence, Eleanor approached the receptionist. "Excuse me. I have an appointment with Garth Woodman."

The young woman checked her computer but didn't find anything. She smiled at Eleanor and asked, "I'm sorry. I don't see anything on his calendar. Could you have gotten the wrong day?"

Eleanor's voice rose a bit as if she was distraught. "Oh dear! Are you sure? I just flew into Washington D.C. specifically to see him."

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Woodman isn't available. Maybe someone else could help you." The receptionist glanced toward Tango and Poppa, hesitant to interrupt their conversation but concerned about the agitated woman.

Eleanor fanned her face. "I - I don't know what to do. He promised to meet with me." She dropped her hand to her chest, dramatically staggering against the desk.

The receptionist's eyes widened with concern, and she called out to the nearby group. "Tango, Poppa, this lady needs your help."

Hearing his name, Tango turned and hurried toward the two women. As his eyes rested on Eleanor, he immediately recognized her. "Hey, aren't you the woman from that international art case?"

Eleanor offered a small smile. "Yes, I am." She extended her hand toward him. "It's nice of you to remember. I'm Eleanor Bennett."

A look of confusion flashed across Poppa's face as he joined them. "I thought you were —"

Eleanor interrupted him. "Here to see Garth. You're right. I have an appointment, but the young lady can't find it."

Poppa exchanged a look with Tango. "He didn't mention anything about a gh—"

Tango looked strangely at Poppa and took Eleanor's arm, leading her away from the desk and all the prying eyes toward a private conference room.

Once the door was closed, Poppa couldn't contain himself. "I thought you were dead."

"Technically, I am."

Poppa stepped backward, putting space between Eleanor and him. "How can you — be standing here — talking to us?"

"Easy! I come and go as I please." Instantly, Eleanor's earthly form faded and then reappeared on the other side of Poppa. She tapped him on the shoulder. "See how easy it is?"

The agent's mouth dropped open, and he stared at his partner. "Are you seeing this, or am I losing touch with reality? If you see it too, we both must have lost it."

Tango chuckled. "I thought you knew."

"Knew what?" Poppa swallowed hard. "It's some kind of trick, right?"

Eleanor smiled. "I'm afraid not. I'm an honest-to-goodness ghost, and I need to talk to Garth as soon as possible,"

Poppa dropped into one of the chairs, muttering, "I need a vacation." He raised his head and stared at his partner. "Why aren't you freaking out?"

"Maybe because Garth told me about Eleanor. It was hard to believe, but if the boss could accept it, I could too."

"Would have been nice if someone had given me a heads-up."

"Poppa, you wouldn't have believed us anyhow? Now, she's right here in front of your own eyes."

"And I still can't believe it." He shook his head and turned to Eleanor. "So, you just pop in and scare people, like a Halloween ghost?"

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "Halloween ghost? Not hardly. I am an advisor with the police department and have assisted your boss once or twice."

"No wonder he hasn't been himself lately. He probably thinks he's losing his mind, too."

"I assure you Garth's problems have nothing to do with me."

Poppa's eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at Eleanor. "You sure you didn't get things mixed up? The boss has been —" He glanced at Tango for backup. "Well, he's been a bit off lately."

Eleanor nodded. "I'm aware it's the anniversary of Allie's death, but I need his help on an important case."

Tango sighed. "He took some time off. Said he needed to be alone."

Eleanor couldn't hide her concern. "Do you know where I might find him?"

Tango nodded. "My guess is the cemetery. He visits Allie's grave a lot when he needs to talk."

Poppa stared at the floor. "The boss isn't himself. I'd say that's where you'll find him."

Eleanor thought for a moment and then spoke, "Thanks, boys. I'll see my way out."

Poppa gasped. "You're not going to do that disappearing thing again, are you?"

She grinned. "No, Poppa, I'll walk out the same way I came in."

"Whew! You'll have the whole place freaking out otherwise."

"Not to worry! I'll wait until I'm in the middle of the square."

"What? No, don't do that!" Poppa yelled.

Tango laughed at his partner. "I think she was kidding, Poppa." He quickly glanced at Eleanor. "You were kidding, right?"

"Yes, I'll be quite discreet when I disappear." She opened the door and stepped out into the reception area. As she left, her voice carried back to the two men. "I'm disappearing now."

Poppa jumped up and hurried to the door, sighing as he watched her leave the building.

*****

Woodlawn Memorial Cemetery was nestled behind rolling hills and tall rows of Washington D.C.'s tree symbol, the scarlet oak. When one entered the cemetery, it felt more like a park with its beautifully manicured hedges, wide gravel walking trails, not to mention the rippling waters of Rock Creek. Eleanor could easily understand why Garth had chosen this as Allie's final resting place, where the hustle and bustle of the city was left behind.

She stood on the sloped hill, watching him. He sat on a weathered bench, staring at the water. Off to his left was Allie's marker, adorned with fresh bouquets of pink roses. He held a beer in one hand and tossed pieces of his uneaten sandwich to the pigeons with the other.

Eleanor approached quietly, hesitant to disturb him but knowing she must. Her footsteps crunched against the gravel as she moved down the hill toward him.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she stopped near the bench. "Hello, Garth."

Barely glancing up, he said, "Eleanor! I didn't expect to see you here."

"I wasn't sure I would find you at all. You've been — hard to reach."

He took a sip of his beer and gazed at the river. "Guess I've been busy."

Eleanor joined him on the bench. "Busy feeding pigeons and drowning your sorrows?"

He tipped his Stetson up, exposing his face. She could see how tired he looked and heard it in his voice. "Something like that. Sometimes, I wonder if this is all there is left. Talking to her, feeding the pigeons, and waiting for the next case to distract me from — everything."

"You were never one just to sit and wait, Garth. You've always been a man of action. It's what makes you — well, you."

"Was, Eleanor. It's what made me who I was." He glanced toward Allie's headstone before he spoke again. "Allie... she was everything, you know? And now she's gone, and I don't know who I am without her."

Eleanor laid her hand on his knee, reassuring him. "You're still Garth. The man who's seen more cases through than anyone else I know. The man who doesn't quit, even when things get tough. You haven't lost that, Garth. You've just — misplaced it for a while."

"Tell that to Tango and Poppa. They think I'm falling apart."

"They're worried about you. So am I." She leaned against him, her concern evident in her voice. "It's okay to grieve, Garth. It's okay not to be okay. But you're still here, and some people need you. I need you."

Garth finally forced himself to look at her. The pain in his eyes was raw. "What do you need, Eleanor? Another case to keep me busy?"

"No. I need you because you're the best at what you do. But more than that, I need my friend back. The one who doesn't give up, even when things are hard. The one who fights, not just because it's his job, but because it's who he is."

Garth looked at Allie's grave. His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't know if I have any fight left in me."

"Then let me help you find it. We'll take it one step at a time together. There's a case — a big one. But first, let's get you out of here, Garth. Let's get you back to the living. This case — it's exactly the kind of challenge Allie would have loved. You know that, right?"

"Allie — she always had a nose for the impossible. She'd dig until she uncovered the truth, no matter how deep it was buried. She was relentless."

"Exactly. She couldn't resist a good mystery, especially if it meant helping someone who couldn't help themselves. This case —  it's about more than just helping some girls and solving a murder. It's about justice. It's about uncovering the truth, the way Allie always did. She'd want you to do this. She'd want you to dig deep, not just for the case, but for her."

"She was always better at seeing the big picture. I — I don't know if I can do it without her."

"You don't have to do it without her, Garth. She's still with you in everything you do. This is your way of honoring her, of keeping her spirit alive. Think about how she'd tackle this and want you to tackle this. For the truth. For the people who need it."

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "She never let anything stand in her way, did she?"

"Not a chance. She was fearless, just like you. And right now, these girls need someone fearless on their side. They need someone who can dig out the truth, no matter how deep it's buried. They need you, Garth. Just like Allie would have."

"What about Donatelli? Does he know you're here?"

"No, Matthew is having a little trouble of his own, too. Whether you believe it or not, you need each other."

"Me need Donatelli? Not on your life." He pushed his Stetson down over his eyes.

"For whatever reason, two fantastic law enforcement men have let the fire inside burn out. Together, we can stoke those embers, get them roaring, and save some lives."

"Eleanor, you'd have made one heck of a saleswoman. Did they teach you motivational speech before you became a ghost?"

"Nope, it all just comes from the heart. I believe in both of you." Eleanor paused. "So, are you going to get on that bull and come out riding it hard, or will you let Donatelli do it alone?"

"Fat chance! He couldn't even get on a bull. He needs me!"

"And — so do I." She stood and smiled at him. "I've got a girl in a cabin holding onto life by a thread and another one with Donatelli, who was almost raped and murdered. Don't take too long packing."

Garth shook his head. "I don't know, Eleanor. I'll talk to the guys and see what we've got going on. But I'm not making any promises."

"Think about it, Garth. Just don't take too long. I'd hate to see another girl get murdered." Eleanor stood and let her gaze study him before telling him, "I've got to go. It's your decision. I hope you don't let me down."

He watched as she faded away and then turned to Allie's headstone, muttering, "I'll bet you had something to do with that visit." Staring across the water, he added, "I told her I would think about it, okay?"

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 15
Spirited Justice chap 15

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Good morning, Danni." Eleanor's voice filled the room as her earthly body materialized inside Donatelli's office.

Danni looked up from the lounge chair, rolling her eyes. "Eleanor! What a surprise. I thought you'd left us and returned to Charles."

"Not just yet! Why? Does my presence bother you?" Eleanor hid her grin.

Danni smirked. "Actually, it does. I don't understand why you can physically be here, but I must remain invisible. No wonder Donatelli doesn't take me seriously."

"You and Matthew having problems?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow and questioned the younger ghost.

Danni frowned and answered with a sneer, "Lately, that man has problems with everyone. He needs to lay off the booze and find a good woman."

"I thought he was interested in the lawyer." Eleanor knew that had been short-lived but preferred to hear Danni's take on the relationship.

"He was until the detective side of him outweighed the romance side. He went for the conviction, and she shot him down."

"He lost to her in court? He's always so thorough."

"He hadn't meant to find some evidence in her apartment, but when he did, she said he did an illegal search. It never would have worked, anyhow. They're both too hardheaded. He needs someone sweet and kind, the opposite of him."

Eleanor laughed. "So, they say. Is that why the two of you butt heads so much? Hardheaded?"

"Hey, I'm trying to respect my elders, but —" Danni's eyes narrowed, ready for combat.

"Okay, Danni, you win. Where is Matthew anyhow?"

"He's talking to Klaus one more time. He still thinks he's good for Beckett's murder?"

"And Hilda? Has she seen her brother yet?"

"No, not yet. I put her in the conference room, and the poor girl fell asleep. She'd had a rough morning."

"I think I'll check on her." Eleanor moved to leave.

"Yeah, I've got to get back to these old pageant files and see if there might be anything to give us a clue."

*****

Eleanor silently slipped into the conference room in case Hilda was sleeping, but to her surprise, she found the young woman staring out the window.

"Are you okay, Hilda?"

She turned to face Eleanor, wiping at her tear-stained eyes. "I guess so."

"Looks like you've been crying. Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really. I can't believe I let my guard down with Johan like I did. I don't want to think about what might have happened if you hadn't found me when you did."

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Hilda. You missed your family and home, and Klaus wasn't there. Johan knew exactly what to do and say. He's quite the charmer."

"I told the detective how Johan asked so many questions about my research. It terrifies me to know that he might have forced me to give it to him."

"Tell me, Hilda, is your work about finding a cure for cancer?"

"Yes and no. It is about a cure, but there's much more to it than that. Of course, it's not just my work. There's an entire team that has put their lives into the study. Each person or group has been researching different components. I was chosen to present our newest findings."

"I don't have a scientific mind, but can you give me a quick summary of your presentation?"

"I'm not to speak to anyone about it until the big reveal, but I know there wouldn't even be a presentation without you."

"If you're uncomfortable, I don't want you to tell me any trade secrets."

"No, it's okay. Our research is about reprogramming cells and reversing diseases at the genetic level. It could be used for unimaginable harm if it fell into the wrong hands."

Eleanor nodded. Hilda's words jogged a memory of Jose, Johan, and the other men at the airport — different men with different lifestyles that didn't fit together. "Someone could either use it for the good of others and make a tremendous amount of money, or they could bury it."

"But who would want to bury it, Eleanor? Just imagine how many lives that could be saved."

"True, but it would do considerable damage to the pharmaceutical companies. They wouldn't be able to sell their drugs at outrageous prices. They would lose millions if not billions."

"But — if the research develops into what we think the possibilities are, it would be a blessing for people worldwide."

"It would, but some people only think of lining their pockets. Your research and other studies threaten their greed."

"That's what my professor said when the first girl was murdered and her papers went missing. He said he believed someone wanted to prevent the discovery. Of course, her study hadn't been as advanced, but it was a start."

"Someone was murdered? Was this in your country or somewhere else?"

"I thought you knew. Her name was Lila. She was Sophia's aunt."

"Our Sophia? Your friend?" Another puzzle piece fell into place for Eleanor.

"Yes, she was part of the first pageant. It was quite the scandal, but then they charged her father with the murder, and it all seemed to be forgotten."

"Her father?" Eleanor's mind buzzed as she sorted the information Hilda had given her. "I wonder if there could be a connection between the two incidents? Is Lila's father in prison?"

"Yes, but Sophia says he swears he's innocent. The weird part of it was Arthur Beckett was his attorney."

"Beckett? The man who was murdered recently?" Now, Eleanor's mind was racing. Could this be a break in the case? She needed to talk to Lila's father and see what he had to say about his daughter's death.

"Eleanor —" Hilda walked over to her new-found friend. "Eleanor — are you alright?"

"What?" Eleanor blinked. "Sorry. When you get my age, the train of thought jumps the tracks now and then. Guess I was lost for a moment."

"It's okay." Hilda smiled and asked, "Do you think I'll get to see Klaus soon?"

"Of course, dear. Why don't I go and check with Danni? Maybe she can bring you a snack or something else if you want."

"I'm not hungry. I just want to see my brother."

"Of course you do. I'll go and check."

Eleanor left the room, made a quick stop with Danni, and then left the building—her destination was Joliet State Prison.

*****

The prison loomed against the night sky, a cold stone and steel fortress. Coiled razor wire topped the tall, unyielding walls, glinting under the moonlight. The surrounding landscape was barren, except for an occasional car on the nearby highway. A lone watchtower stood vigil at the corner of the compound, its searchlight sweeping slowly across the perimeter. The entire setting screamed isolation.

Inside Cell Block C, two guards sat around a scarred desk, and another slouched in a corner, half-heartedly watching the television. A deck of cards lay on the desk, well-worn from countless games played to pass the endless hours of the night shift.

As the two men shared friendly banter over who was winning, the third one yawned, stretching lazily before glancing at the clock on the wall.

"I'm gonna make my rounds. You two try not to cheat while I'm gone." He pushed himself up from the chair, grabbed his flashlight, and headed down the corridor. His heavy boots echoed off the concrete floor as he moved through the dimly lit hall, pausing now and then to peer into specific cells.

Meanwhile, in a dark cell at the end of the row, Eleanor appeared beside Thomas Whitaker's bed. She observed her surroundings — a shelf serving as a desk, littered with papers and a law book, a metal toilet, and another cot with Thomas's cellmate snoring like a chainsaw.
She leaned over and whispered, "Thomas — wake up."

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. At the sight of someone standing in the cell, he jolted upright, rubbing his eyes. "Who —"

Eleanor pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh — not so loud."

Nearby, the guard paused to check a lock, then moved closer to Thomas's cells. The prisoner stiffened, his words catching in his throat.

Eleanor smiled and whispered, "Stay still. Let him pass."

The guard stopped at the cell door and let his flashlight move around the room. Satisfied with what he saw, he grunted, "Get some sleep, Whitaker." He moved the beam of his flashlight over Thomas one last time and then continued down the hall.

Amazed, Thomas hissed, "He didn't see you. How's that possible? Am I dreaming?"

"I assure you, it's not a dream." Eleanor's voice was calm but insistent. "You need to keep your voice down and listen."

Thomas stammered, "You're — not the devil, are you?"

"No, though some might have characterized me as such. Besides, would the devil offer to help you?"

"If — if he wanted my soul."

"Well, I don't want your soul, just your story."

"Wow, lady, I don't know how you got out of my head and into this hole I am in, but you sure are whipping up some black magic." He rubbed his eyes again, hoping to make it all go away. He opened his mouth to shout, but something in Eleanor's steady gaze stopped him. He looked over at his cellmate, who was fast asleep. "How come he doesn't know you are here?"

"Because I'm here to help you, not him." Eleanor needed him to focus on what she came there to learn.

Thomas scoffed, his twisted grin taunting. "That's what my lawyer said, too. You can see where that landed me."

"Are you referring to Arthur Beckett?"

"Who else? Did that piece of slime send you here?"

"Beckett is dead." Eleanor let that thought settle in Thomas's head before continuing, "By any chance, do you know anything about his death?"

"Lady, I don't believe any of this is happening, but for the sake of humoring myself, I'll tell you how happy it makes me to hear the news. As for killing him, have you noticed I'm locked inside these walls? They don't just let the residents take a leave of absence. He deserved it, but why would I kill him?"

"Because he put you here."

"Did you miss the part about he was my lawyer?"

"I understood, but my guess is he framed you and continued to blackmail you to keep you silent."

"For a figment of my imagination, you seem to know a lot."

"Not enough. I need to know your story."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I'm the only chance you've got of getting out of this place."

Thomas hesitated and then sighed. "What the heck! It's one heck of a dream, so I might as well take advantage of it."

"It's not a dream, but if it helps you to think that, then fine. Just tell me your story."

"Beckett — he's the one who set me up. But no one would believe it. I didn't kill my daughter. I loved her. I swear I didn't do it."

Eleanor's voice was soothing, "I know you didn't, Thomas." She reached out and patted his arm. "Start from the beginning. How did you meet Beckett?"

Thomas took a deep breath and exhaled. "It was in a bar. We were both trying to drown our sorrows with the whiskey. Two drunks from two entirely different walks of life. He asked if he could join me, and by the way he was tossing them down, I thought, what the heck, it was his money, and he didn't seem to mind."

"So the two of you drank, and Beckett kept the rounds coming?"

"Yeah. He was a real braggart. Telling me about all the money he had hidden in offshore accounts and how he fooled his wife into thinking he was broke. After a while, he moved on to the power he had over women, even the ones he worked with.

Eleanor's thoughts rolled off her tongue, "Naomi?"

"Might have been, but I don't know for sure. His excitement grew when he started bragging about the beautiful women in the pageant and how he had them under his thumb." Thomas stopped and buried his face in his hands.

"I understand, Thomas. Did Beckett mention a particular name that upset you?"

A sob escaped his lips as he lifted his eyes to meet Eleanor. "He was bragging about Lila. I couldn't believe it. My flesh and blood. She couldn't be mixed up with a man like him. I refused to believe it."

"What happened next, Thomas?"

"I followed Lila every night. I was sure I'd been wrong to suspect it was her, but I saw them together. I didn't mean to spy. I just needed to know what was going on. I stood outside, watching through the curtains. At first, they were kissing, but then —" Thomas started to choke on his words. "Lila — my sweet baby — started to struggle."

Eleanor spoke softly, trying to keep him talking, "You tried to help her, didn't you?"

"I wanted to, but — I got sick. I vomited in the bushes. That's when someone hit me from behind. When I woke up, Lila was dead. Her blood was on my clothing. They said it was me — that I killed her."

"But you didn't."

Thomas reacted bitterly, pounding his fist against the bed. "No. Beckett's the one who framed me. He took Lila's research papers and left me to rot in here. He even visited me, taunting me with the comforts he could offer — if I kept quiet."

"He blackmailed you into silence."

"Yes. He made it clear no one would believe me. I was a grieving father, supposedly driven mad by jealousy. But Beckett — he's the real devil."

Eleanor leaned in, sensing there was more to the story. "There's something else, isn't there? Someone else was involved."

Thomas's eyes shot to Eleanor's face." "How do you know?"

"Call it intuition. Tell me, Thomas. Who else was there?"

"Beckett had a cleaner — someone to take care of his dirty work. I don't know who, but I know he was there that night. He's the one who finished what Beckett started."

"I wonder if this cleaner also ended Beckett's life?"

"Does it matter? No one will ever believe me."

"We'll see about that, Thomas. I believe you. Your story deserves to be heard. The truth will come out." Eleanor moved away from the bed into the shadows. "I've got to go now, but trust me, I'll be back."

Eleanor's aura shimmered in the darkness as she faded away, leaving Thomas wondering if it had been a dream but praying it wasn't.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 16
Spirited Justice Chap 16

By Begin Again

Eleanor felt relieved to leave the confines of the prison behind her, but she was worried about Thomas. Donatelli had his hands full with Beckett's murder, and Angelo was with Naomi, so that left Garth, who wasn't in the mood to cooperate. That thought didn't settle well with her.

She needed a plan.

*****

Tango studied Eleanor's bulletin he'd found on his desk. A sideways glance told him Garth was on his way out. And the Stetson sitting low on his forehead was a sure sign that everyone better stay out of his way.

Poppa looked across his desk at his partner. "He's leaving. Maybe you can show it to him tomorrow."

Tango shook his head. "Eleanor was here yesterday and now this today. That tells me that tomorrow might be too late."

"He's a stubborn bull lately, Tango."

The FBI agent pushed his chair away from the desk and stood, turning to watch his boss head toward the exit. "Guess I take the bull by the horns. Wish me luck."

Poppa's eyes widened, but he only managed to say, "Are you sure —" before Tango hurried to catch his boss.

*****

"Wait up, Garth!"

The Cowboy stopped, his mouth in grumbling gear, as Tango approached. "This better be important. I'm sure you knew I was leaving."

"Yeah, I figured that, but I thought you might want to discuss what I have to say with Allie. The cemetery — that's where you were headed, right?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but yes, I was." He frowned at his agent. "What could you possibly have that might be worth a conversation between Allie and me?"

"A bulletin you received from Eleanor." Tango waited for the hammer to drop.

Garth glared at him. "If it was sent to me, why are you reading it?"

He hadn't snapped as badly as Tango had expected, so he felt better saying what he had to say. "One, because it was on my desk, and two, you haven't been reading much of anything lately."

Garth turned, muttering, "And I don't want to read anything now," as he headed for the door. Tango quickly stepped in front of him, struggling to remain composed under Garth's dark stare.

"Just give me a minute. That's all I ask, and then you can go."

"Eleanor told me about a case yesterday. I'm not interested. Donatelli can handle it." Tango didn't move; he just continued to return Garth's stare. Finally, Garth shrugged. "Considering you put your life on the line for that minute, it's yours."

"I'll cut to the chase, Garth. There's been a lot of trouble over the years, including deaths, accidents, and reports of pageant entries being assaulted. It's not just a beauty pageant. It's called Beauty, Brawn and Brains. Research papers were stolen." Tango paused, wanting to make sure Garth was listening. "Papers about a breakthrough in cancer."

"A breakthrough in cancer?" Garth grabbed the bulletin from Tango and read it himself. He handed it back and opened the door. "I'll be back in ten."

He stepped outside, leaving Tango frowning, unsure of what to do. Garth tipped his Stetson back, staring upward at the sky, and called to Tango, "Have the jet ready in an hour. We've got a case."

Tango smiled. His boss was back.

*****

Within minutes, Tango and Poppa had every available agent scouring the internet and official files for information about the pageant, including the murder of Lila Whitaker and her father, Thomas Whitaker.

Knowing Garth would want to start from the beginning, he had people track down Thomas's whereabouts and arrange for them to talk to him.

As the wheels of the jet left the tarmac, Garth was already studying the files.

"So, Tango, is our first stop at Donatelli's office, or did you have something else in mind?" Garth grinned, waiting for Tango's answer.

"You already know, don't you?" Tango laughed and shook his head. "That's the boss I'm accustomed to working with, always two steps ahead."

"It didn't hurt to check on our flight plan. It said we were headed to Joliet. I assume we are paying Thomas Whitaker a visit."

"And, of course, you are right. I've contacted the warden, and you can see him whenever we land."

"You've had longer to study these files, Tango. What's your take on this guy? Did he murder his daughter?"

"My gut says no, and I think Eleanor thought the same."

"Well, those are two people I would trust my life with, so let's see what Mr. Whitaker says. If he's innocent, someone pulled a lot of strings to get him locked up."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"You've got that right." Garth tipped his chair backward and slid his Stetson over his face. "Didn't sleep too well last night. Wake me when we arrive."

*****

Two armed guards stood at the prison's entrance, their expressions stern and unwavering. Garth flashed his badge against the glass door, stepping back as it swung open.

One guard told him, "We're on lockdown, sir, but the Warden expects you. " Garth raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.

A female guard seated outside the Warden's office stood and motioned for Garth and his men to approach. As they closed the distance, Garth quickly assessed the woman.

Her uniform was pristine, a stark contrast to the chaotic situation that had led to the lockdown. Her eyes were cold, she stood rigid, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, suggesting she had seen more than her share of bad days. "No-nonsense" didn't even begin to describe her.

"No firearms allowed, sir. You and your men will have to surrender your guns. You can place them in the lock boxes," she directed, pointing to a row of steel cabinets.

Garth's dark eyes drilled into her, but he complied, nodding to Tango and Poppa to do the same. Once their weapons were secured, the guard turned and knocked on the door to the Warden's office, opening it without waiting for a response.

"Sir, the gentlemen from the Bureau are here," she announced, her voice clipped and professional.

The Warden, a man whose weary face bore deep stress lines, looked up. He had regained control of his prison, but the cost was evident in the slump of his shoulders and the deep lines on his brow. "Show them in," he replied, his voice heavy with fatigue.

Garth, flanked by his agents, wasted no time. His expression was grim, his tone sharper than usual. "I see you've had some problems," he began. "We won't get in your way. I need a few minutes with Whitaker, and then we'll be out of your hair."

The Warden's face paled slightly. "There's a problem with that."

Garth's impatience flared. "It's my understanding the Director cleared us to speak with your inmate. Why would there be a problem?"

The Warden cleared his throat, his eyes darting nervously. "There was a fight in the yard this morning. And another incident in the shower area. Thomas Whitaker was stabbed and beaten in the showers. He's alive, but barely — he's under medical care, and it's touch and go."

Garth's jaw tightened as he absorbed the news. "Suspects?" His voice was sharp, demanding answers.

"There was a power outage that knocked some cameras out," the Warden admitted. "We're still piecing together what happened."

Garth's eyes narrowed, his displeasure evident. He turned to Tango, his words clipped. "Get copies of the reports filed on both incidents."

Before Tango could respond, the female guard muttered, "Don't look at me. That's not my job."

Garth spun around, his eyes blazing with barely restrained anger. He took a step toward her, ready to confront her insubordination, but the Warden quickly intervened, "I'll get one of the secretaries to make copies for you," he said, hoping to defuse the tension.

Garth paused, his gaze still locked on the guard, before nodding curtly. "Good. Tango, get the folder from the secretary." He turned back to the guard, his voice firm. "And I'll want our guns back — now."

The guard's expression didn't change, but her eyes shifted to the Warden. She knew better than to push further, especially after Garth's pointed demand. With a slight nod from the Warden, she moved to unlock the gun boxes.

The Warden, attempting to regain some control, cleared his throat. "The reports are on their way."

Garth didn't bother responding, his focus already shifting to their next move. "Can we see him?"

The Warden, looking even more worn down, shook his head. "He's not here. He was transported to the ICU at the local hospital."

Garth nodded curtly, clearly displeased but already calculating their next steps. "Keep us updated," he said, leaving no room for argument.

Tango secured the reports while Poppa and Garth reclaimed their weapons. Garth shot one last hard look toward the guard, and then the three men marched out the prison doors.

*****

Jose cursed under his breath as he bumped his head against the doorframe of the rented car. His swollen eye throbbed, and every muscle ached from the brutal beating he'd endured the night before. He hadn't needed to see the men lurking in the shadows to understand their message — it was as clear as the bruises on his body: Get Beckett's papers now, or suffer the consequences.

He knew the risks, but he couldn't afford to walk away empty-handed. He was gambling everything, including his life, by breaking into Naomi's apartment for the second time. He had no idea if Donatelli had the place staked out, or even if Naomi was dead. Maybe the unknown person entering the apartment had saved her, but at this point, all he cared about was finding the research papers.

With the hood pulled tightly over his head, Jose hurriedly closed the gap between the parked car and Naomi's building, his heart pounding with the urgency of his mission. The lock yielded with a reluctant click, and he pushed the door open. He paused to ensure he was alone, then swiftly made his way through the living room, where an overturned chair served as a stark reminder of his last hasty departure. The door to the secret room stood ajar.

Beckett's room turned up nothing but frustration, and the living room was a wreck of discarded papers and overturned furniture. His frustration mounted as he made his way to the bedroom, where the sight of Naomi's blood-stained bed stopped him cold. The memory of that night flashed in his mind — her startled gasp, the quick slice of the blade, the way she had looked at him with wide, disbelieving eyes.

Rage bubbled up inside Jose, a hot, seething force that demanded release. With a furious roar, he grabbed the nearest lamp and hurled it across the room. The crash echoed in the stillness, sending a shockwave through the air. A picture frame on the wall shuddered, teetered, then fell with a sharp clatter, shattering glass across the floor. He stood there, his chest heaving, fists clenched, as the remnants of his anger pulsed through his veins.

Something caught his eye amidst the wreckage — a small, folded note taped to the back of the frame. Beside it, gleaming dully in the dim light, was a key. His breath hitched as he realized what it might be for — the safe deposit box — the one where the papers were likely hidden.

Pain shot through his body, a reminder of the brutal beating he'd endured. His ribs ached with each breath, and his vision blurred as he bent down to retrieve the key. As his fingers brushed the cold metal, a shard of glass sliced into his hand. He hissed, instinctively jerking back as blood welled up and splattered onto the floor, mingling with the broken glass.

Cursing under his breath, he clutched his wounded hand, his pulse throbbing. He staggered to the bathroom, each step sending fresh jolts of agony through his battered body. The faucet squeaked as he turned it on, and he shoved his hand under the cold stream, watching as the water ran red. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it tightly around the cut, the fabric quickly soaking through with blood.

He knew he needed to leave, to get out. But as he turned to go, his eyes were drawn back to the bloodstain on the floor — a stark reminder of the violence that had taken place — Naomi's blood.

Was she dead? The thought gnawed at him and twisted his insides. The room was eerily silent. No crime tape marking the scene. Had the police not discovered what had happened yet? Or had she managed to escape?

The uncertainty gnawed at him, but he couldn't afford to linger. Clutching the key tightly in his injured hand, he steeled himself. Whatever had happened was done, and now he needed to find the secrets locked away in that safe deposit box.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Dylan - Eleanor's nephew and art curator
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 17
Spirited Justice Chap 17

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
 
"Something's off, Boss."
 
Tango stopped outside the SUV and looked back at the high-security prison, its imposing walls and watchtowers casting a shadow over the surrounding area.

Poppa nodded. "I agree. I felt the tension wasn't because of the riot or Whitaker's stabbing. Our cool reception —"

"Cool — it was darn right cold!" Garth chuckled and adjusted his Stetson. "I almost thought I was going to have to clock that woman. She was a woman, right?"

"More like a tank in woman's clothing." Tango grinned. "She wanted to take you on, and I don't mean in any womanly way."

"She might have given you a run for your money — just saying!" Poppa opened the car door and climbed inside. "You are a little out of shape."

"Yeah, you better get inside, pal, or any more remarks like that, and you'll find yourself walking." Garth closed the door and walked around to the driver's side. As he slipped behind the wheel, his mind was already in motion. "We all agree that some things aren't adding up, right?"

Both men agreed.

"I want an undercover team inside, and I mean like yesterday. If something we need to know is going down, I don't want them to have time to cover it up."

Tango dug his phone out of his pocket. "I'll contact the Director, and he can connect with the Attorney General and anyone else in the Justice Department who needs to put their stamp of approval on it."
 
"Make sure they know it needs to be done ASAP. I know Crockett. He'll put it off till next week."

From the backseat, Poppa added, "I'll get the staff digging into the warden's background and our friendly guard. We'll go from there."

"Good," Garth replied, his voice firm. "Let's head to the hospital. If Whitaker survives, he might be our only link to whoever's behind this."

Garth's thoughts were on high alert. Was the riot just a cover for the attack on Whitaker? And if so, what did he know that made him a target? Who would risk something so big, and why?

The answers might be waiting for them in the ICU, but time was running out. Hopefully, Thomas Whitaker was still alive.

********

Jose stumbled through the narrow alley, his vision blurring as he fought to stay upright. The cool morning air stung his lungs with each ragged breath, and each step felt like dragging his feet through wet cement.

Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping from the deep gash on his hand — a wound far worse than he'd initially thought. His heart pounded in his chest. The beating he'd taken the night before had left him bruised and battered, but the blood loss from the fresh cut was what threatened to bring him down.

He forced himself to keep moving, one agonizing step after another, his hand pressed tightly against the wound to slow the bleeding. The alley seemed to stretch on forever, a tunnel with no end in sight, and for a moment, he wondered if he'd collapse before he even reached his car.

But he couldn't stop. He wouldn't stop. Not here, not now. He had to get to the car. He had to make it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Jose reached his car, leaning heavily against the cold metal as he fumbled for his keys. His hands shook violently, slick with blood and sweat, and it took him several tries before he managed to unlock the door and collapse into the driver's seat.

The gash on his hand throbbed, sending sharp jolts of pain up his arm with movement. His mind raced, trying to process what had just happened and think of what to do next. The logical part of him knew he needed help and medical attention before he bled out or passed out from sheer exhaustion. But the other part of him, driven by fear and desperation, knew that calling an ambulance wasn't an option. Not with everything at stake.

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think through the fog of pain and fear. He couldn't call his father. That was out of the question. Carlos couldn't know what he'd gotten himself into, not yet. But there was someone else he could call, someone who might be able to help him out of this mess if he played his cards right.

Angelo.

Jose reached for his phone with trembling fingers, his breath hitching as he scrolled through his contacts. The screen seemed to blur before his eyes, but he found Angelo's number and pressed the call button before he could second-guess himself.

As the phone rang, he leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes and willing himself to stay conscious. He had to convince Angelo to help him. He had to stay in control, keep his wits about him, and not let on how bad things were.

The ringing stopped, and Angelo's voice came through the line, sharp and alert. "You've got guts, man."

"You — know I — was on the jet?" Jose swallowed hard, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice."

"I know — and a lot more. Who were those men at the airport?"

Jose closed his eyes, squeezing them tight as he tried to focus on what Angelo might know. "Nobody important." A wave of nausea swept through him. Time was running out. "I — I need your help, Angelo. I'm in trouble."

Angelo snapped, "Call your friends. I'm not one of them. Goodbye." The suggestion hit Jose like a slap in the face.

"Angelo, don't hang up!" Jose gasped, his panic flaring into anger. "If not me, think of my father. He would expect you to help me."

"You're right. He would, but you're not worth the risk of my life or anyone else's, Jose. So, you call your father and tell him I quit."

"I can't!" Jose's voice was fading. "I'm begging —"

After a long pause, Angelo spoke, his voice deceptively calm. "I'll come, but it's going to cost you."

Jose gritted his teeth, but he choked from the pain. "Anything — just come. My car — in the alley — Eagle Plaza."

"Naomi's place?" Angelo's rage spilled into the phone. Steadying his voice, he added, "I'm on my way."

Jose let the phone slip from his fingers as the call ended, his head lolling back against the seat. He had no choice but to trust Angelo now. But in the back of his mind, a gnawing fear took root.
 
Had he just made a deal with the devil?

*****

Angelo stared at his phone and then at Naomi. Dr. Jake had been there earlier to check on her progress, insisting she should be hospitalized. Aware of the risks, Angelo had refused. Jose's phone call told him the stakes were even higher now.

He slumped into the chair beside Naomi's bed, lifting her fragile hand into his and whispering her name. His mind raced, torn between the urgent need to deal with Jose and his growing frustration with the situation. He'd promised Jose he'd come, but how could he leave Naomi in such a precarious state? And why did he feel so torn between vengeance and necessity?

Without realizing he'd spoken aloud, Angelo said, "Eleanor, I need you."

Eleanor's ethereal presence appeared in the room, her shimmering aura casting a soft, calming light. She materialized behind Angelo.

"I'm here, Angelo," she said softly.

Angelo looked up at her, desperation in his eyes. "Naomi's condition is worsening, and I need to find Jose. I can't leave her like this, but I also can't afford to waste any time."

Eleanor's gaze was calm and focused. She moved closer, laying her hand on his shoulder. "She needs more help than you or your doctor friend can give her. I have a friend who knows someone with a private hospital. She'll be safe there."

"It would have to be a fortress for her to be safe."

Eleanor pressed her thin lips together and nodded. "I assure you, Angelo, it is. It's protected by the one and only Frank DiVito."

Angelo's eyes widened in surprise. "The mobster?"

Eleanor chuckled softly. "Yes, he has that reputation, but he is also a close childhood friend of Garth Woodman, my FBI contact. He has a benevolent side and manages one of the finest medical facilities in the world."

Angelo was taken aback. "A gangster running a top-tier hospital? That doesn't sound right."

"Sometimes people are more than they appear," Eleanor said with a gentle smile. "Frank's facility is indeed a fortress, and Naomi would be safe there. He has a sense of honor that makes him an unlikely protector but a trustworthy one."

"Oh, Eleanor, I don't know what to do. I need to get to Jose, yet I'd prefer to watch him die. I need to know what he knows and to do that; I need to keep him alive."

"Believe me, I understand."

"You do? Because I certainly don't."

"Listen to me, Angelo. I can't reveal the future, but I can steer you in the right direction. I can help you with Naomi if you trust me. You must go to Jose — before it's too late."

"But — Naomi." His worried eyes shifted to the woman on the bed.

"I'll contact Garth to facilitate the transfer to Frank DiVito's hospital. It's highly secure and will provide the best care for Naomi."

Angelo's eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you."

Eleanor squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "You're making the right decision. Go and get to Jose."

With a deep breath, Angelo made his decision. He knew he had to trust Eleanor and take action. "Alright. Get Naomi to Frank's hospital. I'll deal with Jose."

He quickly gathered his things and prepared to leave. As he was about to step out, Eleanor's voice stopped him.

"Remember, Angelo, to be careful. Time is of the essence."

*****

Angelo's mind raced with a flurry of thoughts, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly as he navigated the streets. The Eagle Plaza building loomed in the distance like a menacing sentinel. A fleeting image of Naomi crossed his mind, her pale face and labored breaths haunting him. He swatted the air as if to dispel the vision, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He had to save Jose, no matter what it took.

A blaring car horn jolted him back to the present, the other driver shaking a furious fist as he sped past. Angelo's anger surged momentarily, but he quickly steered his vehicle back into its designated lane, his focus sharpening. This was no time for distractions.

Turning onto a narrow side street, he headed toward the alley entrance where Jose was supposed to be. As he approached, his eyes narrowed, scanning the surroundings. Two shadowy figures caught his attention, their faces obscured. They were wrestling a limp body into a beat-up sedan, its paint peeling and windows cracked. His heart sank as he recognized the bloodied figure — Jose.

Angelo cursed under his breath. He hadn't gotten to Jose in time. The urgency in his chest transformed into a cold, steely resolve. He made a split-second decision to follow the car, hoping it would lead him to wherever they were taking Jose. Maybe there still would be a chance.

He trailed the sedan at a safe distance. The car snaked through a series of backstreets before pulling into the underground parking lot of a seedy hotel. Angelo parked his car a few spaces away and watched as the two men dragged Jose's barely conscious body from the sedan and loaded him into a black SUV with tinted windows.

Angelo's eyes narrowed as he watched their movements. These weren't just low-level thugs; their efficient, calculated manner revealed them as professionals. They moved with a purpose, their faces expressionless as they handled Jose.

As the SUV pulled out of the lot, Angelo quickly grabbed his phone, snapping a photo of the license plate just before the vehicle disappeared around the corner. He knew he had to act fast; time was slipping away.

Dialing a secure number to Mexico, he waited as the line connected. Carlos was Jose's only hope now.

It rang once before Carlos' gruff voice answered. "Hello."

Angelo didn't hesitate. Keeping the SUV in sight, he said, "Carlos, it's Angelo. We've got big trouble."

"With my son?" Angelo detected a quiver in Carlos' voice.

"He called me for help, and when I got there, I saw two thugs putting his bloody body into a car. I'm following them. My guess is these guys are professionals. I got a plate number, but you'll have to send in someone fast."

The silence on the other end of the line was chilling. Finally, Carlos spoke, his voice cold and measured. "Send me the details. I'll handle it from here. Keep following them, but do not engage. Do you understand?"

Angelo's jaw clenched. He knew Carlos was right, but the thought of letting someone get to Jose first didn't sit well with him. But he muttered, "Understood. I'll keep you updated."

Hanging up, Angelo sent Carlos the plate number and other details, then resumed his pursuit. The black SUV was still a few car lengths ahead, but he knew this was only the beginning. Whatever Jose had gotten himself into, it was now a matter of life and death — and Angelo was caught in the middle of it all.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 18
Spirited Justice Chap 18

By Begin Again

 

The sliding glass doors of the hospital lobby opened as Garth and his sidekicks entered. The lanky cowboy cut a striking figure with his signature Stetson and boots. The trio moved with a purpose that attracted curious glances from the locals, who mostly wore bib overalls or neon construction jackets. Their presence created a ripple of interest among the women, who couldn't help but smile as the elevator doors closed.

The elevator dings open, revealing the ICU floor. Garth, followed by Tango and Poppa, stepped out, immediately spotting a security guard at the end of the hallway. The guard's uniform and demeanor screamed "rent-a-cop."

Tango muttered, "That warden's a joke, boss. This is what he sends as security."

Garth approached the nurses' station. "I'm looking for Thomas Whitaker's room. I was told he was in ICU."

Glancing up from her paperwork, an uninterested nurse answered, "That's correct. He's in surgery now. I can't give you much information, but the officer on duty can help you."

Garth nodded and turned to give his men orders. "Secure the area, Tango. Get a detail over here." As he surveyed all the exit signs on the floor, he added, "You'll need one at every door."

Overhearing Garth's orders, the nurse rounded the desk and approached them. "This is a secured area, gentlemen. No one is allowed except during specific hours. I'm sorry, but —"

Garth cut her off with a confident flash of his badge and a charming smile. "We're with the FBI. I'm Special Agent Garth Woodman. Didn't mean to cause a ruckus, ma'am, but I believe the prison transported an inmate here with a critical stab wound."

The nurse nodded and glanced down the hallway. "Happens all the time, except it was odd that the prison ordered a security guard to stand outside his door. Must be one bad-ass criminal."

"Well, I'm not sure of that, but I know the FBI is interested in keeping him alive."

"Of course," the woman stammered, not accustomed to anyone ever caring about the inmates. "Mr. Whitaker is in surgery."

"That's good." Garth looked around the floor, evaluating the ways to reach their target if anyone was to finish off Whitaker. "We'll be securing your floor, ma'am."

The nurse, visibly flustered by Garth's commanding presence, struggled to find her words. "I'll have to notify —"

"You notify whomever you want. Just tell them that the FBI is in charge now, and no one is to enter Whitaker's room without being cleared by one of our men."

"You can't —"

Garth tipped his cowboy hat to the nurse. "I can, and I already did." Smiling, he added, "You have a nice day, ma'am." His tone left no room for argument.

*****

The study was sweltering under the intense Mexican sun, its heat pouring through the tall windows and casting harsh, glaring light into the room. Carlos, drenched in sweat, paced behind his massive mahogany desk. His shirt clung to his back, and sweat dripped down his forehead. He took occasional drags from a thick cigar, its smoke mingling with the air in a hazy cloud.

The rotary phone on his desk sat in the center of the room, a stark black object against the chaos of paperwork and scattered notes.

Carlos wiped the sweat from his brow as he stared at the phone. "Come on, Angelo, where are you?"

He leaned against the massive fireplace mantel, cursing the world in general. The sharp ring of the phone startled him.

His head snapped up, his face glistening with sweat, as he moved to answer the phone. His hand trembled slightly, and his voice was strained. "Angelo, do you have my son?"

There was brief static before a voice on the other end responded. "Carlos, it's Manuel. It's been a long time."

Recognizing the voice of someone indebted to the Hernandez family for a long time, Carlos was curious about the call but wanted to keep the line free for Angelo to call.

Impatiently, he answered, "We must talk later, Manuel. I am busy."

Manuel lowered his voice as he checked his surroundings, "I know who has your son. They are planning to kill him."

Carlos slumps against his desk, yelling, "Madre de Dios! ¡Esto no puede estar pasando con mi hijo!" He gasped for air and asked, "How do you know this?"

"Two big-shot Americano businessmen had dinner with Arturo at his restaurant, the Las Gringo. I was bartending and happened to hear Jose's name mentioned. The waitress is my niece, a very clever girl. She heard one man say money was no object if Jose disappeared."

Carlos's face hardened. The oppressive heat intensified as he leaned forward, the cigar's ember glowing brightly against his flushed face.

"You are sure they are the ones who have Jose?"

"Si — Arturo had me rent a car for them under a false name. I called them to tell them where to pick it up."

"Give me the phone number. I will take it from here, Manuel." Carlos's brain was already calculating the demise of these men, but first, he had to reach Angelo. After he wrote down the number, Carlos thanked Manuel. "Mucho gracious! Consider your debt paid in full. And after Jose is home safe, I will thank you with a substantial gift."

"Not necessary, my friend. I am grateful I could repay my debt."

Carlos added a quick goodbye. "Chao!" His voice conveyed relief, knowing his son was one step closer to being rescued.

The call disconnected, leaving him alone in the stifling heat, his mind racing to devise a plan.

*****

Knowing his American connections ran deep and strong, he dialed a number. Without wasting time, the voice on the other end assured Carlos they had a plan. Satisfied that his son would be rescued, he hung up the phone.

*****

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Angelo, the driver of the car he was tailing got a strange order from someone. The man on the other end of the phone kept it short. "Go through the car wash on Fifth and Hanover."

"The car wash? Have you guys lost your minds?"

"Just do what you're told. You need to lose this tail."

"Okay, but it doesn't make much sense."

"Trust me. It's going to be a big surprise."

The driver disconnected the call and shook his head. "We're supposed to go through a car wash at Fifth and Hanover."

"What the heck! In the middle of a job?"

"That's what he said. It's about fifteen minutes from here."

"Has the boss had one too many shots of tequila?"

"Maybe, but I just do what I'm told. The money's the same."

"So, the car wash it is." The passenger looked in the back seat at an unconscious Jose. "I don't think it matters to him. By the looks of him, we might not have to worry about shooting him. He'll already be dead."

The two men laughed, and the driver turned left, heading for Fifth and Hanover.

*****

Ten minutes later, the phone rang, and Carlos answered, expecting it to be Angelo this time. "Hello."

"It's me."

"Do you have Jose?"

"No, I'm still tailing these guys. They might suspect something because they've been doubling back and taking side streets for quite a while."

"Just keep tailing them, Angelo. I've made some calls, and things will soon be in place. Regardless of where they go, don't lose them. Understood?"

"Man, these guys are crazy!" Angelo couldn't control his surprise or disbelief.

Carlos's voice was calm. "What's wrong? Is something happening?"

"You're not going to believe this, but they're going through a car wash."

Carlos was glad Angelo could not see his smile. "A car wash? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. They are entering it right now. Listen, Carlos, I'm going to let you go so I can find a spot on the other side to follow them when they come out."

"Sounds great, Angelo. Keep that car in sight."

Angelo watched until the car disappeared inside the car wash, and then he parked by the exit, where he knew they'd have to pass him to get out.

A closed sign appeared on the front of the car wash.

******

The vehicle carrying Jose rolled into the car wash, the thick brushes spinning in preparation. Water cascaded over the car, muffling sounds from the outside. The soap began to foam over the windshield, obscuring their view.

Once the car was engulfed in darkness, the two thugs sat quietly, unaware of what was about to happen. The brushes thudded against the vehicle, masking the sounds of the car doors being yanked open.

In an instant, two men swiftly and silently executed the thugs. A silent shot hit the driver in the chest, causing him to slump forward over the wheel. The passenger barely had time to react before a bullet pierced his skull, sending him sideways against the door.

Two other men dressed in black lifted an unconscious Jose from the back seat and carried him to the car directly behind the first one. After moving the dead driver to the back seat, the new driver climbed behind the steering wheel, propping the passenger up against the door, and in less than three minutes, the car lurched forward and finished the car wash.

Outside, Angelo kept his eyes locked on the car wash as the vehicle exited and the driver slowly drove past. Oblivious to what had taken place, he followed closely behind.

Meanwhile, the car carrying Jose exited the car wash, slipping away unnoticed. The rescue had been successful, and Jose was now in the safe hands of men who would get him to a secure location.

*****

After traveling a few miles, the decoy car circled two barricades and pulled into a motel. The sign said it was closed for remodeling, so Angelo maneuvered his vehicle between two construction vehicles and a row of bushes.

He watched as the driver exited the car and headed inside one of the rooms. As he prepared to leave his car and move closer for a better look, the passenger door of his car opened, and a man with a handle-bar mustache slid into the seat. Catching Angelo off guard, the man shoved a gun into the private investigator's side. "Don't do anything stupid because I've been known to have an itchy finger."

"Who the hell are you?"

The man pressed the barrel of his gun against Angelo and snarled, "Shut up and listen."

Angelo, not one to be intimidated, pushed his luck and growled, "I don't know who you are, but I do know that Jose Hernandez is in the back seat of that car. Killing me is one thing, but killing him is a death sentence."

Without hesitation, the man smashed the butt of his gun into the side of Angelo's head. As he reeled from the hit, the stranger leaned in close, his voice a dangerous whisper, "I told you to shut up and listen. The men you were following are dead. Jose is safe, on his father's jet, flying home right now." His words were cold and factual, with no trace of emotion.

Dazed, Angelo mumbled, "I don't understand."

He interrupted him again, "Carlos doesn't like cleaning up messes. Don't make another one."

He exited the car as abruptly as he entered, leaving Angelo with a pounding head and the realization that he had been kept in the dark concerning Jose's rescue.

An SUV pulled into the parking lot with its lights off. The man inside the room exited and climbed into the vehicle. With blood trickling down his face, Angelo watched the SUV's taillights disappear down the road before he started his car and left.








Translation for : "Madre de Dios! ¡Esto no puede estar pasando con mi hijo!"
Mother of God! This can't be happening to my son.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 19
Spirited Justice Chap 19

By Begin Again

"Boss, haven't we had enough excitement for the day?"

Garth stepped out of the SUV, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Spit it out, Tango. Are you trying to tell me that our old friend won't roll out the welcome mat?"

Poppa had stayed behind to oversee things at the hospital while Tango and Garth made their next stop at the precinct, specifically to see Detective Donatelli.

Tango climbed out of the vehicle and gazed across the parking lot. "I'm telling you that waltzing in there unannounced is like tossing a burning match into kerosene."

Garth smiled, "That explosive, huh? Maybe Matthew has mellowed, and he'll be thrilled to see us."

"Not a chance, especially after he discovers you've already been stoking the fire."

"Listen, I came to town to interview a man about a five-year-old crime. Is it my fault that there was a prison riot and the guy got knifed?"

"No, but you rode into town with your guns blazing."

"Nonsense — I just picked up the slack where the warden dropped the ball."

The two men finished their conversation as they crossed the parking lot. Garth pushed open the door to the police precinct, and the familiar buzz of activity surrounded them. As he approached the front desk, the officer on duty barely glanced up.

"I'm here to check in with Detective Donatelli." Garth's southern drawl caught the officer's attention.

She looked up, her eyes locking with his. A smile crept across her face. "Agent Woodman, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"Would you believe me if I said I just had to see your lovely smile again, Officer Patrick?"

"No, but you can say it anyway. A girl always likes to be flattered, especially around this place." She flipped through some notes on her desk and added, "Donatelli's out now, but he'll be back shortly. He's got a suspect being brought up to the interrogation room."

"Sounds like there's a lot going on." Garth knew Officer Patrick was a good source of free-flowing information — a definite chatterbox.

"Yeah, the pageant has kept Donatelli busy."

The mention of the pageant put Garth on full alert. "Problems? Those beautiful ladies not wearing their dresses short enough for the detective?"

Officer Patrick compressed her laugh. "Not that he'd notice whether they were or not —"

"What red-blooded American wouldn't notice? Has he gone blind?" Garth offered an animated look of shock.

"No." She leaned forward and whispered, in a hushed voice, "He's got a thing going on with the bottle lately." She raised her finger to her lips. "Everyone knows it's how he spends his nights."

Garth didn't like the sound of what he was hearing, but more importantly, he wanted more information on what was happening with the pageant."So, you were saying he was busy with the pageant."

"Oh yeah, first, they found one of our prominent lawyers murdered at the Art Museum, then there was a suspicious scaffolding accident, and I just heard someone kidnapped a contestant."

"Wow, I see what you mean."

"Donatelli hasn't connected all the dots yet, but he's working on it. He got a break with the murder —" She scanned the notes in front of her. "Klaus Carlsson. His sister is a student at a research university in Germany. Then he's got another one — Johan Erickson. He's accused of kidnapping the Carlsson's sister. Caught him red-handed in the girl's apartment."

Garth glanced at Tango to see if the same alerts were sparking in his head, too. "Well, lovely lady, I've taken up enough of your time. It was nice to see you. I'll wait for our friend in his office."

Without waiting for permission, Garth went down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He knew the precinct well — too well, some might say. He stopped outside Donatelli's office and watched as a young, blonde-haired man was escorted into the interrogation room.

Instantly, Tango read his boss's mind. "Don't even think about it."

Garth shrugged his shoulders. "What could it hurt? I'll just say hello." Garth grinned. "Welcome him to the United States."

"Garth, you don't know a thing about him or the case. Let it go."

"A friendly hello, that's all." Garth headed toward the interrogation. "Go get some coffee. I've got this."

The guard recognized him and smiled. "Nice to see you, sir. You working this case with the Detective?"

"Let's just say I thought I'd say hello to our visitor. I understand he's from Germany. Has he asked for council?"

"Not yet. Witnesses say he was fighting with the deceased just moments before the murder, but that's all I know."

"Hmmm — Donatelli's on his way. Mind if I wait inside?"

The guard opened the door. "Be my guest, sir."

Garth stepped inside the room, circling the table while Klaus's eyes stared at him.

He leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Just here to say hello. Nothing to worry about."

Klaus didn't like the vibes this Cowboy gave off. He felt like his mind was being read before he spoke. He understood the other detective's rough side better, so he remained silent, staring at a spot on the wall.

Minutes passed in silence until the door burst open, and Detective Donatelli stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. "What the hell are you doing here with my suspect?" he barked.

Garth didn't flinch. "Spending a little one-on-one time," he replied, his tone as smooth as ever.

Donatelli's fists clenched at his sides, barely containing his anger. "My office. Now."

Garth shrugged, pushing off the wall. "Sure. If you've got coffee." He shrugged and grinned at the young man as he left the room.

Matthew stormed down the hallway, his footsteps echoing with fury against the tiled floor. Garth followed, keeping a slow, calming pace. As he neared the office Donatelli had disappeared into, he felt a coolness around him and paused and waited. Eleanor's ethereal form shimmered under the fluorescent lights and materialized beside him as he expected.

Seeing her expression, Garth immediately went on the defensive. "He started it."

Eleanor shook her head. "I saw what happened. You were antagonizing him by being in the room with Klaus."

"Wait a minute! It was your idea for me to get involved. So far this morning, I've been to a prison riot — Thomas Whitaker was stabbed —"

"Oh dear, me! Is he okay?"

"Undergoing surgery, but by the looks of the lack of security, someone hoped to finish him off."

"That can't happen, Garth. He's our link to the first murder."

"I've set up a detail and covered all entrances and exits. It didn't make the staff happy, but it's the only way to ensure Whitaker stays alive until I can talk to him." Garth looked down the hall. "Guess I owe him an apology for stepping on his toes."

Eleanor squeezed his arm.
 
"I'll try, but I'm leaving if he blows another gasket."

She sighed and slipped her arm through Garth's, a gesture meant to soothe, but when they walked into the detective's office side by side, it had the opposite effect.

Matthew's eyes widened in shock, then turned to rage. "You knew he was here?" he bellowed.

Garth's smile widened, unbothered by the outburst. "We keep in touch." He patted Eleanor's hand.

Eleanor stepped closer to the detective. "Matthew, please. There's no need for all this. Let's just —"

Before she could finish, Donatelli cut her off with a glare, his fists clenching at his sides. "Don't patronize me, Eleanor. Not with this guy."

"I would never!" Eleanor's finger bobbed up and down in his face. "You seem to forget how often I've helped you with cases. I was merely doing the same."

Still invisible except to Eleanor, Danni watched from the corner of the room. She studied Garth with interest, having never had the opportunity to meet the Cowboy. She was enjoying the fireworks. She couldn't decide which was better—the Cowboy's cool demeanor or Eleanor's moment of retaliation, something she'd never experienced from the grandmotherly woman.

Donatelli's gaze flickered, torn between anger and his inability to remain in control. "Get out of my office, Woodman. Now!"

"You promised me coffee." Garth returned the glare. "And I don't leave until I'm ready."

Danni giggled, and Eleanor looked at her. The hostility was getting out of hand. The two men were at a stand-off, neither willing to budge.

Eleanor's eyes pleaded with Garth. "Maybe we should go."
 
"Sounds like a wonderful idea to me," Donatelli snarled.

Garth looked at her, then Donatelli, before deciding to back off. He gave Eleanor a nod, turned on his heel, and moved toward the door, but not without firing a final shot. "You're a good detective, Donatelli. But you've got your nose in the bottle too much. My team already suspects there's more to this pageant than you can see."
 
As he exited, the detective slammed the door shut.

Seconds later, Danni materialized, her expression alternating between concern and amusement. Matthew's eyes narrowed as he spun around to face her. "When were you planning to tell me?" he snapped. "Who's side are you on? Letting that guy waltz in here like he owns the place."

His words stung, but Danni refused to let him see how he had affected her. "I wasn't aware of him or Eleanor coming here, but you wouldn't have listened even if I was. The Cowboy is right. You are too busy drinking yourself to death." She'd never used such a sharp tone with him.

Matthew froze. His anger flared and then changed to guilt, perhaps, or shame. He reached into his desk, pulled out a half-empty bottle, and stared at it for a long moment. Danni watched him, praying he'd put it back.

Finally, Donatelli sighed and dropped the bottle back into the drawer, his shoulders slumping slightly. "What's the point, Danni? Everything's gone to hell."

Danni's stare softened. "Only if you let it. Everyone's here to help you, but you refuse to see that. You don't have to do it by yourself."

He slumped into his chair and stared out the window, knowing Danni was right. It was time to face his demons before they destroyed him.

*****

In the hallway, Eleanor hurried after Garth. His stiff posture told her he wasn't in the talking mood.

"Where are you going?"

Garth stopped and turned to stare at her. "Back to Washington D.C., where I should have stayed."

"You can't leave it like this, Garth. You both need to come to terms with Allie's death and now is the time."

"What do you want me to do? It's his town — his case — though I suspect the cases are connected."

"I've never known you to start something and not finish it."

"You heard him. He doesn't want my help."

"Maybe not — but Thomas Whitaker sure needs it. Are you going to forget about him, too?"

Garth's thoughts flashed back to the prison and the hospital. He knew something was wrong there. Could he walk away and turn his back on it all? He knew the answer before he even asked himself the question.

"Okay, Eleanor, you win. I'm staying at the horse ranch. If Donatelli wants to talk, I'll be grilling steaks for the boys and me tonight. It's the best I can do."

Garth and Donatelli might be at each other's throats, but Eleanor wasn't about to let them tear each other apart. She knew the horse farm, with its peaceful surroundings and old memories, was the perfect place for them to confront the past finally—and hopefully, bury the hatchet.

She smiled. "I knew I could count on you, Cowboy."

Garth returned her smile. "Now, can you say the same for your hotheaded detective?"

"I think I can." Her voice was soft and hopeful. As she turned to leave, she stopped and added, "Frankie says hello."

Garth grinned. "You're welcome. I hope the girl does okay."

"Me, too!" Eleanor made a mental note to check on Naomi.

*****

Klaus had repeated his story twice and never changed a word. Matthew rubbed his eyes as he considered that he was telling the truth. "So, you're telling me that you argued with Bennett after finding out he was threatening your sister for sexual favors? Things got heated between the two of you. Beckett refused to listen to you and walked away. You followed him, but when you reached the door, you saw him arguing with a woman. You want me to believe this woman picked up a brick and hit him with it?"

"That's what happened. He called her some names, and she swore at him. She was wearing red high heels. I think one broke, and she stumbled. She grabbed a brick and hit him when he lunged at her. The man fell to the ground."

Donatelli knew the autopsy indicated a blow to the head, but the fatal moment came from a scalpel sunk deep into his temple. Things weren't adding up.

"Did you see anything else? Was the woman alone?"

"I think she was, but someone might have been in the shadows. I saw something move, but honestly, I just wanted to get out of there."

"Okay. Klaus. That's all for now. Your sister is waiting for you. She's had a rough day as well. Maybe you two can have a quiet dinner and piece things together."

The guard showed Klaus out of the room.

Donatelli pushed back his chair and stood. With the room empty, Danni materialized. "I think he's telling the truth. But who was the woman, and was there a third person in that alley?"

"Maybe his wife? Or another contestant?"

"Or the lawyer?

"Lawyer? Are you referring to Naomi? Why would she kill the guy she kept out of jail?"

"I don't know, but I know she's hiding something."

Donatelli shook his head. "I'm telling you, it's not Naomi." He walked to the door. "Don't we have another suspect to interrogate?"

"We do, but that doesn't put your girlfriend in the clear."

"Shut up!" He stepped out into the hallway, knowing Danni would have to disappear. He sighed, "It wasn't Naomi."

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 20
Spirited Justice Chap 20

By Begin Again

"Finding anything?" Matthew tossed a folder onto his desk, glancing at Danni as she rifled through files.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, yet." Danni sighed, her brow furrowed. "It's beyond me why a highly intelligent, well-to-do student would stoop so low as to attack someone."

Donatelli nodded, leaning back in his chair. "I never can figure them out. You've got the world at your fingertips, but you want to cross the line for something else."

"It can't just be about the girl, can it? With his looks and money, he could have anyone."

"Yet, he traveled to the United States to go after this one."

"Do you think he knew her before? Maybe he thought she'd be easier prey away from home. That's sick."

Donatelli shook his head. "I don't know what he's thinking. He's clammed up, demanding to see the consulate. But I'm about to give it one last shot before we get bogged down in all the bureaucracy."

"You think he could walk out of here?" Danni's eyes widened in surprise.

"Not if I have anything to say about it. Keep digging. There's got to be something we can use as leverage."

Danni nodded, though as Donatelli closed the door behind him, she muttered, "Keep digging? Like I'm a dog looking for a bone!"

*****

As Donatelli rounded the corner toward the interrogation room, his eyes locked on the woman inside, speaking with Johan. His jaw clenched, and irritation surged through him. The sound of his fury seemed to reverberate off the glass partitions as he shouted, "What is she doing in my interrogation room with the suspect?"

Before he could storm in, Eleanor materialized in front of him, blocking his path. His dark eyes and flushed face stopped mere inches from hers.

"Get out of my way, Eleanor. You've gone too far this time."

"She just needed a moment with him," Eleanor said, her tone calm but firm. "Two minutes. That's all I ask."

"Ask? That's rich," Matthew snarled. "Get her out, or I'll throw her out myself." He tried to push past her, but suddenly, his body froze as if time had stopped.

Inside the room, Hilda stood before Johan, her body trembling with fear and uncertainty. Her voice was a mere whisper. "Johan —"

The young man stared at her in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to understand why you did this. My parents  —"

"They didn't send me. I came on my own. I don't even know them."

Hilda gasped, "So, you lied. Why would you trick me like that? You rescued me only to hurt me?"

Johan's expression softened for a fleeting moment, then hardened again. "It was planned."

"Planned?" Hilda's voice wavered as the realization hit her. "Your kindness, your concern — it was all fake."

"I'm sorry." Johan turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "I didn't think it would be this hard."

"So, all those questions about my research — you never really cared about me, did you?" Hilda's eyes glistened with tears. "I see."

"You don't understand," Johan muttered, his voice barely audible. The weight of his actions seemed to crush him, and his shoulders slumped. He stared at the handcuffs binding him to the table.

Hilda shook her head, the depth of her naivete sinking in. "If any part of you regrets what happened, please — tell the truth."

Her plea hung in the air, raw and desperate. Johan looked up at her again, his resolve wavering, but he remained silent, his lips pressed into a thin line.

Hilda, fighting back tears, turned and walked out of the room just as Eleanor released the spell on Donatelli.

"Hilda, what the hell were you doing in there?" Donatelli's voice was sharp, slicing through the tension in the room.

Hilda jumped, then turned to face him. "I — I was just trying to help," she stammered. "I thought maybe he'd talk to me."

"Without my permission?" Donatelli's eyes narrowed, his frustration evident. "This isn't a game, Hilda. You shouldn't have been in there."

He looked furious at Eleanor and brushed past Hilda, entering the interrogation room and slamming the door behind him.

Johan met Donatelli's gaze and muttered, "I'm waiting for my lawyer."

"So," Donatelli began, his voice cold and unyielding, "you think a lawyer's going to swoop in and save you from this mess?"

Johan's eyes shifted uneasily, the brief moment of connection with Hilda still lingering in his mind. But he quickly hardened his expression again, as if clinging to his last shred of defiance.

A knock on the door startled them.

Matthew snarled, "Now what?"

A uniformed officer opened the door and stepped in. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but the man on the phone said it was urgent."

"Who is he?"

"I believe he said he was from the German Consulate, sir."

Donatelli glanced at Johan and then pushed his chair away from the table. "Transfer the call across the hall." His back stiffened, preparing for a fight, as he left the room.

*****

"Detective Matthew Donatelli speaking."

Thank you for taking this call, sir. The Consulate General of the Federal Republic of Germany has asked to speak with you."

"Put him on."

"Yes, sir. One moment."

A voice at the other end of the line spoke, "Detective Donatelli, it's my pleasure to speak with you. Thank you for taking my call."

"No problem. We're both busy men, so let's cut to the chase. When will your representatives arrive to take over my case?"

Not accustomed to such abruptness, the Consulate General cleared his throat. "I believe you misunderstood the nature of this call. We have encountered an issue at our end. There will not be any action, including legal representation, by us at this time."

Donatelli frowned. "Let me get this straight. You are telling me he has no legal representation right now?"

"That's correct. Nor do we expect any change in the future."

Unprepared for what he heard, Matthew quickly thanked the gentleman for his time and hung up the phone.

*******
With a grim expression, Donatelli returned to the interrogation room. Johan looked up, anxiety etched on his face.

As Matthew reclaimed his chair, he stared at Johan momentarily and spoke, "There's been a development with the German Consulate. It seems there will be no lawyer available. You're on your own."

Johan's face paled. He gulped, fighting back the panic that was threatening to engulf him. "There must be a mistake. They can't do that." His hands began to tremble.

Matthew shrugged his shoulders. "I guess they can. I just got off the phone with the German Consulate, and he said they had no one available. Do you have someone else to call?"

Johan's mind raced to Jose and the men who had brought him to do the job, but he immediately realized they hadn't given him any contact numbers. He was on his own.

Matthew knew he had Johan second-guessing his situation. "This is your chance to make things right."

*****
Danni rubbed her tired eyes and stretched, feeling the hours she'd spent staring at the computer screen without results. She wanted to stop — every muscle screamed for rest — but she knew she wouldn't. She had a job to do, and there was no way she'd let Matthew think she was a quitter.

Leaning back in her chair, she sighed in frustration. "What am I missing? Nobody's background is this squeaky clean. There has to be something."

She closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind. Then, faintly, a voice whispered, "Start from the beginning."

Danni's eyes snapped open, and she scanned the room. "Eleanor, was that you?"

Silence. No one answered.

"Great, now I'm hearing things," she muttered, half-expecting Eleanor to materialize. But the room remained empty.

With a shake of her head, Danni turned back to her computer, the words "Start from the beginning" echoing in her mind. She frowned, and then it clicked. "What's the beginning of someone's life? Duh, their birth!" She had never verified Johan's nationality.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she sifted through digital files. Suddenly, she froze, her breath catching as the document she needed appeared on the screen — the birth certificate —clear and undeniable.

Johan was born in the United States. His family moved to Germany a month later. He was an American citizen.

Her heart raced. Donatelli would be ecstatic.

Relief flooded her, but uncertainty quickly replaced it. Should she call Eleanor and let her deliver the news, or did she need to do this herself?

Arguing with Donatelli was one thing; arguing with herself was another. She knew she'd break all the rules if she walked into that interrogation room. She'd been reprimanded for minor infractions before, but this was different. The consequences could be severe.

She hesitated, weighing her options, but deep down, she knew what she had to do. This was her moment. Steeling herself with a deep breath, she printed the document and made her decision. She would deliver it personally.

With the certificate clutched in her hand, she headed for the interrogation room, her heart pounding with nerves and determination. As she pushed open the door, Donatelli looked up, surprise evident in his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, Danni wanted to turn and run. Whispering, "This is the moment!" she took a deep breath and entered the room.

Her appearance in the room shocked Donatelli. "Danni, I wasn't expecting you. Is everything alright?"

Unable to speak, she nodded, opened her folder, and slid the birth certificate across the table. Finally, she said, "I knew you'd want to see this."
 

Donatelli’s eyes widened as he read the document, understanding the significance immediately. He turned to Danni and said, “Fantastic job, Detective Armstrong.” He pulled out the chair beside him. “Would you like to join us?”  

Beaming from ear to ear, she slid into the chair, in full view of Johan, or anyone else who walked past. She asked herself, “Is this worth it?”  Her answer was a definite yes!

She glanced around the room, suddenly sensing a coolness. Eleanor’s ghostly figure shimmered against the wall behind Johan. She gave two thumbs up and then disappeared.  

Donatelli turned to Johan, holding the certificate in his hand. “Thanks to some fine investigating work by Detective Armstrong, we’ve — she’s discovered some crucial information.” Matthew slid the document across the table to Johan. “This official document shows you were born in the United States, which means we have jurisdiction. You, my friend, are as American as apple pie.”  

Johan paled as he studied the certificate. He swallowed hard, “How can this be?”  

Matthew motioned to Danni. “You want to tell him?”  

Danni nodded. “I discovered that you were born here in the U.S. and then moved to Germany before you were one month old.”  

Donatelli smiled, his voice calm but firm, “I’m sure this is a lot to take in, Johan. But here’s what this means for you: As a U.S. citizen, you’re fully subject to U.S. law. There’s no embassy stepping in to help you. No diplomatic protections. You’re just another guy in a lot of trouble.  

“But — I thought —”  

“I know what you thought. You figured the people you worked for would protect you if things went south. Maybe they even told you they would. But here’s the thing — they won’t stick their necks out for you now. You’re too hot. They’ll cut you loose and deny they even know you.  

Johan was visibly shaken.  

Donatelli continued, “Look, Johan, you’ve got a choice to make. You can sit here and say nothing, wait for a lawyer, and hope those people don’t hang you out to dry. Or you can start talking to me, help yourself, and maybe we can work something out that doesn’t end with you rotting in prison for the rest of your life.  

Johan’s voice trembled, “I — I didn’t know. About any of this. My whole life — I thought I was just — my parents — they never said.” His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table.  

“I get it. This is a shock. But you can make it right, Johan. Tell me what you know and who’s involved, and we can figure this out together. It’s your move.”  

Johan took a deep breath, visibly wrestling with his decision. Finally, he looked up at the two people sitting across from him, his expression one of resignation.  

Defeated, Johan quietly mumbled, “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know.” 

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 21
Spirited Justice Chap 21

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"Where do I start?" Johan's voice was low. His head hung down, his chin almost pressed against his chest. Fear, sadness, and even a touch of defiant anger glazed his eyes.

Donatelli seized the opportunity, his tone even yet pressing. "It's always best to start from the beginning and move step by step. We've already established that you've been living a lie —"

Johan's head snapped up, defiance sparking in his eyes. "You can't accuse me of something my parents chose to hide from me."

Donatelli leaned in, the air between them growing thick with tension. "Can't I? You've been playing their game, Johan, and now you're losing. Or do you believe you're just an innocent pawn?"

Johan's jaw tightened, and he glanced at Danni, who remained quiet but attentive, her pen hovering over the notebook. The silence was suffocating.

"From our background research on you, we know your family's influence at the university runs deep," Donatelli continued, his voice steady. "Your grandfather was the founder of a pharmaceutical company. That kind of power doesn't just disappear. It buys silence, control — and a lot of guilt."

Johan's gaze hardened. "Things aren't always as they seem."

"Enlighten me, then." Donatelli's eyes bore into Johan's. "Are you telling me you're not the heir to one of Germany's most powerful families? Because last I checked, German tabloids have you pegged as the most sought-after bachelor on campus."

Johan scoffed, making a bitter sound. "Do you believe everything you read? It's all a charade. A facade to keep the university from crumbling under the weight of its lies."

Donatelli feigned confusion, pushing Johan to reveal more. "I guess I don't understand."

"My grandfather and his associates — they gambled with the university's future," Johan admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "They invested in a project that failed spectacularly. It wasn't just the financial ruin they were facing — there were talks of prison. But none of this was shared with me until recently."

"So, when did you learn the truth?" Donatelli asked, his tone sharpening.

Johan hesitated, then continued, his voice strained, "A large pharmaceutical company stepped in, offering to fix everything. But it wasn't a loan or an investment. They wanted something in return. The university had been on the brink of a breakthrough in cancer research, but the drug company saw it as a threat."

Danni finally interjected, her voice soft yet probing, "A threat? Why wouldn't they want a cure for cancer?"

Johan's eyes flicked to Danni, a shadow of shame and anger clouding his expression. "Because curing cancer doesn't make money. The current treatments, the endless procedures — they're worth billions. A cure would destroy that."

Donatelli leaned back, letting Johan's words settle. "So, they made an offer — a deal with the devil."

"Yes," Johan said, his voice cracking. "They agreed to bail out the university, but only if they buried the research. The problem was that Hilda had already left for the States, taking crucial data with her. That's when they came to me."

Donatelli's eyes narrowed. "And what exactly did they expect you to do?"

Johan swallowed hard, his composure unraveling. His hands twitched, and his voice caught between anger and an unspoken plea. "They told me to follow her, gain her trust, and retrieve the papers — by any means necessary. If I succeeded, they would ensure wiping clean the university's debts and keeping my family's reputation intact. But if I failed..."

"You'd be the one to pay the price," Donatelli finished for him, his voice laced with disdain.

The room fell silent. The gravity of Johan's confession hung in the air like a heavy fog. Danni looked at Johan, her pen hovering above the notebook, as she considered her next question.

Before she could speak, the door to the interrogation room cracked open, and a uniformed officer stepped inside. "Detective, there's a call for you. It's urgent."

Donatelli shot a warning glance at Johan before standing up. "I'll be right back. Don't get too comfortable."

As Donatelli exited the room, Danni seized the moment, leaning forward slightly. "Johan, you mentioned earlier that this isn't the first time they've covered something up. What did you mean?"

Johan's eyes darted toward the door, his fear apparent. He took a deep breath, lowering his voice to a whisper, "There have been — other incidents. Accidents. People who got in the way — were silenced. I wasn't involved in that stuff. Much of it was the other guy they brought in — Jose. I don't know his last name." He stopped as if realizing he'd said too much.

"Don't stop now. If you want to salvage any part of your life, you need to be open and honest. What do you know about this Jose?"

"I know the guy scared me. He wanted to be like the guys from Germany so much and didn't care what he had to do. He got drunk one night and was telling me about people he'd murdered and how he'd blackmailed other people."

"Do you think he was telling the truth or just making himself look tough in front of you?"

"At first, I thought he was all talk, but then when he was telling the CEOs how he'd taken care of this lawyer woman and would soon have more research papers in his hands — they seemed to sit up and take notice of what he was saying."

Danni inhaled sharply. "Did he say what he meant about taking care of the woman?"

"Not to me, but later, I overheard the others talking about how he was a loose cannon, especially murdering some Beckett guy's partner."

Donatelli returned to the room. "Okay, where were we?"

Danni needed to talk to her boss, but not with Johan here. "I think we should give Johan a break."

"Are you crazy? He's going to tell me everything he knows right now."

Danni bit her lip. Whatever had happened when he left the room, he'd come back in a foul mood. She knew he wasn't going to listen to her, and what she had to say was important. "I think —"

Donatelli's frustration boiled over as he slammed his hands on the table. "Enough games, Johan! Start talking, or we're done here."

Danni flinched at the sudden outburst, but she quickly composed herself. She knew his temper well, but something else was at play here. Eleanor was trying to tell them something.

One moment, the room had felt stifling, but now a chill was settling around them — a true sign that she was nearby. Danni tried again.,"Matthew, I think we need to consider —"

He cut her off, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer to Johan. "He's hiding something. I can feel it."

Johan trembled, whether from fear or the cold, Danni couldn't tell. "I'm telling you everything I know," he stammered, his breath visible.

But the detective didn't notice. His focus was entirely on Johan, pressing him for more information, unaware that the room had grown impossibly cold. The lights flickered just once, but it was enough to make Johan jump.

The suspect shivered and looked around. "This place feels like a freezer."

"You're right. Something must be wrong with the air conditioner." Danni nodded, hoping Donatelli would end the questioning for now.

Distracted, Matthew snarled, "Shut the thing off then if you're too cold. I want to continue."

Danni didn't say a thing. She just stared at him. The lights flickered again, finally drawing the detective's attention to the change in the room.

He snarled, ensuring those in the room knew he wasn't pleased, "This better be good!" Turning to Danni, he nodded and growled, "Tell the guard to put him in holding."

Danni wasted no time moving across the room, opening the door, and asking the guard to remove the suspect. As Johan passed her, his eyes pleaded with her to understand, but Danni was already focused on what was about to unfold inside the interrogation room.

The sound of the door clicking as it closed was the trigger that set Donatelli into explosion mode. He snapped, searching the room, "This better be important, Eleanor!"

The ghost materialized across the table from him, calm as she shook her head. "Matthew, you need to learn to take signals from your partner. I believe Danni has something very important to tell you."

He spun around. "So why didn't you just say so instead of turning this place into an icebox?"

"Believe me, I tried!"

"Spit it out! What's so important that we had to stop the questioning when we had him right where we wanted him?"

"It's Naomi."

"Naomi! What's she got to do with Hilda and this guy?"

"Nothing that I know of. But Johan said a guy by the name of Jose was bragging to him and the other men that he took care of Beckett's partner and would soon have more papers in his hand. Then they'd know how important he was to their plan."

Donatelli's eyes widened as his body revolted at the possibilities. Spinning around, he screamed at Eleanor, "What about Naomi?"

"Have you talked to her?" Of course, Eleanor knew he hadn't, but rules were rules, and she couldn't reveal what had gone down until he discovered certain things himself.

Matthew grabbed his cell and dialed Naomi's number. It went straight to voice mail. He dialed her office and got the same thing. "I don't like being in the dark!" Without hesitation, he knocked over his chair and headed to the door.

"Where are you going?" Danni asked.

"To Naomi's apartment — you coming?" He was out the door, not waiting for her response.

Danni looked at Eleanor. She'd never seen him so out of control. "Should I go?"

Eleanor nodded, her eyes filled with sadness. "You better go. He's going to need you."

*****

Breaking all traffic laws, Donatelli made it across town in record time. Lumbering across the front square, he'd entered the elevator, punched in Naomi's floor, and pounded his fist against the elevator walls. When the doors opened, he rushed toward Naomi's door.

With his revolver drawn, he tapped on the door, praying for a response but fearing the worst.

Eleanor's voice filled the space. "Open the door, Matthew. It's unlocked."

"I need a warrant." His breath was ragged.

The doorknob turned and the door opened, leaving a small crack. She sighed, "Now you have probable cause."

Matthew stepped inside, his breath catching in his throat. The place was a wreck — furniture overturned, drawers pulled out and dumped, papers scattered everywhere. His heart slammed against his chest as he moved toward the bedroom, his gun at the ready.

Danni followed closely behind, her eyes scanning the chaos. "This isn't good," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Donatelli didn't respond. He was already at the bedroom door, pushing it open. The sight that greeted him made his blood run cold. The bed was soaked in blood, the sheets twisted and stained. He staggered back, bile rising in his throat.

"No," he whispered, his voice breaking. "No, no, no..."

Danni placed a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off, anger surging through him. "I knew it," he spat, fists clenching at his sides. "I knew something was off with her. Beckett's murder, the way she was acting — damn it, I should've done more!"

"Stop!" Danni's voice was calm but firm, trying to ground him.

He shook his head, pacing the room, the guilt gnawing at him. "She was hiding something, and I ignored it. I ignored it because —" He stopped, taking a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Because I didn't want to believe it."

The anger drained from his face, replaced by a crushing sense of guilt. He stared at the blood-soaked bed, his thoughts a tangled mess. But then, something clicked. He needed to think like a detective, not a grieving friend.

He turned to Danni, who had pulled out her phone. The sight made his frustration flare again. "Who are you calling? What are you doing?"

Danni met his gaze, her expression unyielding. "My job," she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "We need a forensic team in here."

His shoulders sagged as he nodded, finally accepting that she was right. He needed to focus. Naomi needed him to focus. He started searching the room, looking for anything out of place, any clue that might point him in the right direction.

A sudden chill swept through the room as he rummaged through the mess. He froze, his breath catching in his throat as he turned slowly, knowing what — or rather, who — he'd see.

Eleanor stood in the doorway, her presence both comforting and unsettling. She looked at him with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Listen to me," she said, her voice soft but urgent. "Naomi is alive. She's in a hospital, but you won't find what you need with her. Your efforts need to be on finding the clues and on Jose."

His mind raced, processing her words. Naomi was alive. Relief flooded him, but the reality of the situation fueled his anger. He screamed, "You knew! Why would you not tell me instead of putting me through this?" He stepped menacingly toward Eleanor. "What's wrong with you?"

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my choice, but you needed something to jolt you out of the stagnant place you've been wallowing."

"Do you know what happened?" His nostrils flared. "Where is she?"

Eleanor shook her head. "I can't tell you that. Not yet. You must trust that she's safe for now and focus on what's here. Who did this, and more importantly, why?"

Danni recalled Johan's words — "This guy bragged about killing Beckett's partner." She cleared her throat, knowing she was moving into dangerous territory with her own partner. "Matthew, while you were out of the room, Johan mentioned another man, a guy he thought would do anything to climb to the top."

"What's that got to do with this?"

Danni took a deep breath. "He said that Jose said he'd killed Beckett's partner, and soon he would have more of the papers."

Blood rushed to Donatelli's face as his anger climbed. "He told you! That should have been the first words out of your mouth. Are you an idiot? Some detective you are!"

Eleanor stepped between Danni and the detective. "Stop! Listen to yourself! She tried to tell you, but you were your usual belligerent self and failed to listen." She paused, wondering for a fleeting moment if he would strike her. Her voice was softer when she continued, "You need to think like the detective you are and stop blaming everyone else. I can't tell you whether Naomi will survive. What I can tell you is that you need to find who did this and bring them to justice."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"You know why — I can't change what is yet to be. That's your job."

He nodded, his focus sharpening. His mind clicked into gear, and his eyes scanned the room with renewed purpose. Something had to lead them to Jose or whoever was responsible, something that would make this right.

As Danni stepped out to make her calls, Donatelli felt a cold determination settle over him. Naomi was alive, but she wouldn't be safe until this ended. He owed her that much.

Author Notes Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - :Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)


Chapter 22
Spirited Justice Chap 22

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
“Hola.”

"Senor Hernandez, it's Dr. Rodriguez. Did I wake you?”

Carlos blinked awake, rubbing his eyes, realizing he’d dozed off in his office chair. “Si, but no worry. Any news on Jose?”

“Yes, I was there earlier but didn’t want to disturb you. The boy is recovering well.”

Carlos exhaled in relief. "Muchas gracias, Miguel. You’ve saved his life.”

“I did my best, but truthfully, your swift actions made the difference. Getting him here in time was critical.”

Carlos chuckled softly, though his voice revealed his weariness. “I’ll remind him of that. Might knock some sense into the boy.”

The doctor’s laughter carried over the line. “Our children often forget the sacrifices we make.”

“More than they should,” Carlos replied, glancing at the clock. He knew it was time to face Jose, but it wouldn’t be easy. “Thank you, Miguel. I’ll check on him shortly.”

“Be patient, my friend. Tomorrow always brings another chance.”

Carlos leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “Patience is running thin these days. The boy thinks he’s grown but still has much to learn.”

“Indeed. It is your house, Carlos. He should respect that.”

Carlos nodded, though there was no one to see it. “Perhaps it’s time he remembered what it means to be part of this family. He’s made mistakes. Now, it’s time he faces them.”
*****

“Ahh, the comforts of home sweet home.” Jose stretched and leaned against the rows of plush bed pillows. “How’s your steak and eggs, my friend?”

Alejandro smiled and swallowed his food. “Much better than anything I would have been having for breakfast at my house. You’re so spoiled, Jose.”

“True, you come from a large family. The chickens probably can’t even keep up with the demand.” The two young men laughed as they enjoyed the peaceful morning.

“Man, I swear, you keep bouncing back like a cat with nine lives. Yesterday, I was scared when they carried you in. I’ve known you since we were young, but never have I seen you in such bad shape.”

Jose winced as he tried to use his hand to push himself up. “Pfft, a little near-death experience never hurt anyone.” He grinned. “Besides, can you imagine all the broken hearts if I were to die?”

They shared a laugh; the sound was light and easy despite the severity of what had happened.

Alejandro chuckled. “Yeah, well, it must have been a party, my friend.”

“It’s not even a party unless I am there.” He paused, his expression turning serious with a familiar gleam in his eye. “Remember when we would sit on the riverbank and talk about how one day we would be richer than anyone, beyond our wildest dreams?”

“We were kids. How did we know life expected us to work for a living?”

“I found the secret, Alejandro. You and I are going to own the world.”

“Did you strike it rich in one of those abandoned gold mines? Maybe find a nugget or two?”

“Much better than gold, my friend. Toss me my jeans.”

Alejandro made a face. “Those things are caked with blood. What do you want with them?”

“Just give them to me, and you will see.”

Alejandro pushed his plate away and retrieved the jeans, handling them with two fingers. Jose laughed and reached into the pocket, coming out with a key. “This is our future. It will unlock billions. And it will all be ours.”

His friend teased, “A key to a treasure chest? Are we going to be pirates on the high seas?”

“We can be whatever we want once we have what’s in the box this key unlocks.”

“Tell me more.” Alejandro pulled his chair closer to the bed. “I’m not going to have to break into a house or something, am I?”

“Much easier than that." Jose glanced at Alejandro with a gleam in his eyes. “It’s for a safe deposit box in the States. You will walk into the bank, open the box, and walk away.”

Alejandro eyed the key, his brow furrowed. “And what’s inside?”

Jose grinned. “Our future. Papers that’ll make us richer than anyone could imagine.”

“Papers? And how exactly am I supposed to get them? They’re not just going to hand them over to anyone.”

“You’ll need to impersonate Arthur Beckett. Do you remember the guy? Beckett and his lawyer friend came down and partied with us for a week until things went south.”

A serious look crossed Alejandro’s face before he chuckled, shaking his head. “Impersonate Beckett? Man, you are pushing your luck.”

Jose smirked. “Luck’s gotten us this far, hasn’t it? Besides, you get those papers, and we’re set for life. I’m telling you that once you walk into that bank, you’ll feel the power and thrill of knowing you’ve got the world in your hands. Trust me, it’s going to be easy.”

Alejandro frowned slightly but couldn’t hide the excitement. “And you’re sure this is safe? What if something goes wrong?”

Jose chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t you trust me? Have I ever let you down?”

Before Alejandro could answer, Jose tossed the key onto the bed, watching it land between the pillows. “All you need is this. Everything else will fall into place.”

Outside the door, Carlos pressed his ear closer, his heart pounding in his chest. His son’s reckless laughter grated on him, each word tightening around the knot of anger and disappointment in his stomach. He wanted to burst into the room, to confront them both — but he knew that wouldn’t fix this. No, this time, he had to act differently. Jose needed to learn a lesson.

Reaching into his pocket, he dialed a number. When he heard “Hello,” he snapped, “Alejandro will go to the States. I want him tailed, and don’t lose him. Understand — this is very important to me. I will give you further details soon.”
*****

The afternoon sun washed across the sprawling fields, casting a warm golden glow as three magnificent horses grazed peacefully beneath the outstretched branches of a tall oak tree. Nearby, the soft breeze carried the aroma of grilling steaks. Laughter echoed from a small group of men, their faces relaxed and spirits light, a welcome contrast to the otherwise hectic rhythm of their lives.

A short distance away, Garth leaned against a weathered fence post, his sanctuary from the chaos. Here, he could feel Allie’s presence. Her spirit danced in the sunlight, her laughter a gentle breeze. He could close his eyes and, for a fleeting moment, feel her standing beside him, her hand on his arm, offering the tranquility he craved.

Closer to the barn, Eleanor and Danni sat together on a stack of hay, deep in conversation, enjoying the quiet. They had sought the shade of an old apple tree, its gnarled branches heavy with green leaves. The air smelled faintly of ripe apples, and the world slowed down. The tree, the breeze, the scent of apples — all of it — seemed to be in harmony, a rare stillness that brought comfort, even amid the lingering shadows of their world.

Donatelli approached, walking down the long, dusty gravel road. His city shoes kicked up small clouds of dirt with every step, and he wiped the sweat from his brow, clearly unaccustomed to the rhythm of country life. Though foreign to him, the landscape held a charm he couldn’t quite place. The quiet, the absence of honking cars and bustling streets, the simplicity of life here felt so different from the city he was used to. As he neared the gathering, he couldn’t help but feel out of place, yet intrigued by this simpler, quieter world — a place to lay the past to rest.

Wisps of Eleanor’s silvery hair fluttered in the wind as she took in the peaceful scene surrounding her. On the other hand, Danni fidgeted with a piece of hay, unsure how her ghostly mentor might receive her recent actions.

Pride gleamed from Eleanor’s gentle eyes. “You did well today, Danni.”

Taken by surprise, Danni took a bite of an apple before responding, using the time to calm herself. “I know I screwed up big time, but when I found that birth certificate —”

Eleanor chuckled. “You took the bull by the horns. I know — I saw how you surprised Matthew.”

The younger woman’s expression lightened, and a flicker of relief crossed her face. “I wasn’t sure how he’d take it, but I couldn’t sit there and do nothing.”

Eleanor playfully clapped her hands together. “That’s the spirit! Follow your instincts and consider the consequences later.” Mischief danced in her eyes. But —” The older woman’s tone softened. “You broke one of the biggest rules. Revealing yourself to the living without being given the opportunity is a serious matter. There may be consequences — ones even Matthew can’t protect you from.”

“I didn’t do it for the glory! We had nothing to leverage Johan with, and I saw the certificate as our chance. What was I supposed to do?”

“You did what you felt was right, and I respect that. Honestly, it reminded me of myself when I first started as a ghost detective.” Eleanor laughed. “I wasn’t exactly a rule-follower, either.”

“And you are now?” Danni couldn’t contain her laughter, regardless of how serious her situation might be.

Eleanor grinned. “I may bend a few rules now and then.”

Danni stared across the pasture for a moment before returning to the conversation. “You said there will be consequences. Do you think this will end my career with Donatelli?” She stopped and then turned to Eleanor with a sense of urgency, “When I sat down at that table, questioning Johan, I felt like a living, breathing detective.” She dropped her gaze from Eleanor. “I pushed it too far, didn’t I?”

“You walked a fine line, Danni. There are always risks when we bend the rules that far. But you also uncovered a crucial puzzle piece — Johan’s birth certificate changes everything.” She paused before adding, “I’m proud of you for taking that step, for trusting your instincts. Just don’t be surprised if there’s a price to pay for stepping outside the boundary.”

“I don’t regret it. Not for a second. But I hope it doesn’t cost me my place here.”

Eleanor smiled her grandmotherly smile, offering reassurance. “I don’t think it will. If anything, the powers that be might see your potential. Just be ready for whatever comes next.” Eleanor reached out to the young woman, her words a comforting embrace. “It’ll be okay, Danni. I’ll be right by your side to set them straight.”

As the two women laughed and relaxed, Donatelli joined Garth near the pasture fence, carrying his version of an olive branch — a twelve-pack of cold beer.

A knowing look appeared on Eleanor’s face as she watched them. “Men. Always takes a steak fry and a beer to work things out.”

Danni laughed softly as her nerves settled. “You think they’ll make peace or blow this whole thing up?”

Eleanor raised an eyebrow and watched the men. “Hard to say. Those two have a lot of unresolved pain, but from the look on Donatelli’s face, I’d bet he’s ready to bury the hatchet.”

Danni laughed. “And here I was, hoping to see some fireworks.”

“You might get your wish. Men like those two don’t always resolve things with words alone. But Donatelli — he’s changed. This case — Naomi — has shifted something in him.”

Danni nodded. “I’ve seen it too. Is he in love with her?”

“No, I don’t think so. My guess is that he blames himself for letting his personal feelings, his anger over losing the Beckett case, cloud his instincts. He feels he let her down and might have been what cost her life.”

“Is — is she dead?”

Eleanor shook her head. “She’s receiving the best of care in a safe spot, but Matthew needs to focus on the case, which will help her more than him seeing her.”

Danni nodded. “I understand. Tonight, I hope they make peace.”

Eleanor’s eyes twinkled, and her smile deepened. “They’ll find a way. Just like you and I did. Sometimes, mending fences is less about what you say and more about showing up, even if you don’t have all the answers.”

Author Notes Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Alejandro - Jose's childhood friend
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog


Chapter 23
Spirited Justice Chap 23

By Begin Again

"Look at the city-slicker!" Garth laughed as Donatelli approached. His suit and Italian leather shoes were covered in dust. "It's a cook-out, pal, not someone's funeral."

Matthew shrugged and handed him the twelve-pack of beer. "At least I got the beverage right."

"That you did! Now get out of that jacket and tie and make yourself at home. I've got a bottle of Kentucky's best bourbon over by the grill in case beers aren't strong enough for you."

Garth cracked open the twelve-pack, passing Matthew a cold one after he tossed his suit jacket and tie across the wooden fence. For a moment, they stood in silence, side by side, except for the neighing of horses and the distant sound of cows.

Matthew broke the silence first, leaning his forearms on the fence as he stared into the pasture. "Been a while since I've been out in the open like this."

"Yeah." Garth took a swig from his bottle and then gave a quick nod. "Glad you could make it."

Matthew's gaze lingered on the fields, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I can see why you spend time out here. It's peaceful. Allie — she loved it here, didn't she?"

Garth stiffened just slightly at the mention of her name. He cleared his throat, his eyes flicking toward the oak tree where he had often felt Allie's presence. "Yeah. This was her favorite spot. She'd train her horse out there for hours."

A beat passed, thick with memories, before Matthew turned his head slightly. "Eleanor was relentless about me coming out here today."

Garth chuckled. "Ghost or not, that woman knows how to get her way. She's a firecracker with a heart of gold and the nose of a bluetick coonhound."

"I know. The entire drive down here, I could almost hear her in my head, telling me not to wear a suit." Matthew's laugh was softer this time.

"You two seem to get along well." Garth smiled, glancing at him, trying to keep the mood light. "Just don't cross her, or you'll find yourself hog-tied faster than you can blink."

"Yeah, I've learned that the hard way," Matthew chuckled, but his smile faded quickly, and he sighed. "Speaking of hard lessons, she probably filled you in on the mess at Naomi's apartment."

"She mentioned it, yeah." Garth didn't reveal his involvement, waiting to see where Matthew was headed.

Matthew hesitated, his grip on the bottle tightening. "It's my fault, you know. All of it. Naomi got hurt because of me."

Garth's eyes narrowed, sensing Matthew's tension. "That's not what I heard."

Matthew sighed deeply. "I got too close to her — too comfortable. When I found evidence that could've nailed Beckett, I didn't handle it right. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I crossed lines. Naomi called me out for it. She said the search was illegal, and that cost us everything. Beckett walked."

"Well, I agree that would be a tough one to swallow. At this point, you aren't even sure your case is connected to your man Beckett, are you?"

"I knew something was off, and I didn't act. Now Beckett's dead, and Naomi's apartment gets ransacked. It's all connected, I know it."

Garth studied him for a long moment before responding. "You don't know that you could have prevented it. You didn't make those men break into Naomi's place."

"I could've stopped it," Matthew repeated, taking a long drink. His voice was bitter.

Garth gave him a thoughtful look. "Listen — Eleanor didn't tell me the details, but she did say Naomi's getting the best care possible. She's alive, and that's what matters right now."

Matthew's head snapped up. "You know where she is?"

Garth chuckled, leaning against the fence. He took a sip of his beer before answering. "Ever heard of Frank Divito?"

"The gangster? Who hasn't? What does a mobster have to do with Naomi?"

"Frank's an old friend of mine. He's helped me out several times. Behind the walls of his palatial mansion, he has a world-renowned medical hospital with the best of the best. Eleanor asked me to call, and I did. He sent a chopper and scooped Naomi up."

"You're friends with a gangster? That's quite a revelation, Garth." Matthew shook his head, his gaze wandering across the pasture. "And he's taking care of Naomi? Man, that's wild."

After a few silent moments, Matthew spoke again, his voice low and filled with emotion. "I loved her, you know."

Still trying to figure out where the conversation was headed, Garth decided to tread lightly. "Are you referring to Naomi or —"

Matthew finished his sentence. "Allie." He paused and added, "I think a part of me will always love her."

Garth's memories flooded his mind and heart, almost taking his breath away. Still, he understood where Matthew was coming from because it was impossible not to have loved Allie. Unable to expose his pain, his eyes focused on the horses as he spoke. "I know. I never doubted that."

Matthew bit the inside of his lower lip, struggling with his thoughts. His words were hard to say, but he knew it was time. "When she chose you —" He gulped and inhaled sharply. "It — it felt like my whole world was ripped out from under me. I couldn't understand why — what you had that I didn't. It gnawed at me for a long time."

Garth stared at his beer bottle before turning to look at Matthew. His voice was low and filled with emotion. "You're not the only one who questioned her decision. Why did she pick me when you were — well, you seemed more like her style? The truth is, she saw something in both of us. Something good. Something worth loving."

Matthew laughed, pushing back his bitterness. "She was always the optimist, wasn't she? Allie believed in people more than they believed in themselves."

Garth nodded, unable to say anything for the moment. He leaned over, got a couple of fresh beers, and handed one to Matthew. Allie's memories filled their thoughts and warmed their hearts, memories that were different, personal, yet emotional ties between them.

Matthew leaned against the fence. "it's difficult to admit, but I've been a mess since she passed. I didn't handle it well. Hell, I didn't handle anything well. And now, with this case, the old wounds are clouding my vision."

"You aren't alone. I've been burying myself in work, trying to outrun the grief. It can't be done. She's always here, isn't she?"

"It's like she's pushing us — but I'm not sure what's drawing her to the case — a pageant with a lot of women wasn't what interested her."

"You're right. Allie would be looking at something deeper past the pomp and circumstance."

"Agreed, but what?"

"I don't know much about the case you are working on, but when Eleanor convinced me to come out here, she told me about a Thomas Whitaker. He's serving time for the murder of his daughter. She was a contestant in the first pageant ever held."

"What prompted him to kill his daughter?"

"Well, I never got to interview him because he was stabbed after a prison riot. But according to Eleanor, he claimed he was innocent, and she believed him."

"Hmmm — maybe I could get more details from his lawyer."

"That's the thing — his lawyer was Arthur Beckett."

"Beckett? I'm investigating the guy's murder and his ties to Naomi. From what I hear, he was involved in the pageant and wasn't the upstanding person he tried to portray."

"Beckett visited the father at the prison, but from what Tango could find, he never made any efforts to reopen his client's case. Nor did the missing research papers ever surface."

Garth's last words caught Matthew's full attention. "Research papers?"

"Yeah, the pageant isn't just a beauty contest like most. It's called Beauty, Brawn and Brains. When the girl was murdered, they couldn't find the research she was supposed to present."

"Do you know what she was researching?"

"Yeah, that's what convinced me to take the cold case. It had to do with cancer cells and finding a cure."

"Cancer! There's your connection to Allie, pal." Matthew shook his head and laughed. "To my case, too,"

"What do you mean?"

"Hilda, the girl who was kidnapped and attacked from the pageant, believes that the guy was also after her research."

"Believes? You don't have anything to back this up?"

"Yes and no. The guy responsible is sweating bullets in my jail, but the incident with Naomi stopped me from interrogating him and getting the full story."

"And the research — was it on cancer as well?"

"I don't know the details because she was told to keep everything under wraps, and I hadn't connected the dots until this minute, but I believe it was."

"So, all we've got are these old stories. Nothing concrete?"

"Just rumors, stories from people who don't know the truth. But — it's strange, isn't it? Allie was sick, dying of cancer, and at the same time, there was all this research going on about it."

"She never talked much about it with me — at least not in a way that made sense then. But now? Looking back, I think she knew more. Maybe she was trying to finish something before —" Garth let his thoughts trail off, unable to voice the possibilities.

"I've been thinking about that. It can't be a coincidence, can it? There's gotta be something more to it. Is it possible she was trying to follow up on the first murder and the missing papers?"

Garth choked on his words. "What if — what if that research could've saved her, and someone — hell, someone didn't want that happening?"

"Exactly. Whoever's holding onto it is keeping us in the dark. But why?"

"Someone wants the research, but why? I'm sure it's all documented, so they'd be shot down if they tried to present it as theirs. It doesn't make sense."

Both men mulled over what had transpired during the last few minutes, searching for answers. Tango yelled across the yard that the steaks were ready.

A soft chuckle escaped Garth's mouth. "You and I both know she'd kick our asses for letting something like this get in the way of doing what's right."

Matthew's expression turned serious. A note of regret settled into his voice. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, Garth. And maybe I've held onto things longer than I should have. But I want you to know I respect you. Always have. You were the better man, and Allie saw that."

"We were both just men who loved the same woman. Nothing more, nothing less. She chose, and we both had to live with that. But it doesn't mean you were any less. Allie would've hated to see us at odds like this."

Matthew lifted his beer in the air. "To Allie, then. And to finding those papers. Let's finish what she would've wanted us to do."

Garth raised his bottle, too. "To Allie and solving this case. Now, let's go get those steaks."


Chapter 24
Spirited Justice Chap 24

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
"What the hell am I doing?"
 
The reflection in the window was a tall, well-dressed man with a hint of stubble on his jaw. Shaking his head, Alejandro knew it was him, but he didn't recognize the man. The reflection appeared confident, and he was anything but that.
 
The steam from his untouched cup of coffee spiraled upward, forgotten somewhere between the confident catwalk he strutted when he entered the coffee shop and his current nervous fidgeting. Mindlessly, he stared at the loose granules of sugar dancing on the tabletop to the constant strumming of his fingers.
 
His gaze darted around the room, searching for anyone who might be watching him. Panic crept up his spine, and suddenly, every man in a business suit seemed suspicious — an undercover lookout for the bank or, worse, the police.
 
"How did I agree to do this? I must be losing my mind?"

He'd repeatedly rolled Jose's instruction in his mind, memorizing everything he'd said. It sounded so easy, yet he couldn't see it happening. He was about to walk across the street into the bank and pretend to be a dead man. His hand touched his pocket, checking for the umpteenth time that the false ID, Beckett's ID, was there. It felt like a hot poker against his chest. He silently screamed, "I can't do this."
 
And then his childhood friend was inside his head, assuring him it would be okay.

He ran a hand through his hair while he listened to Jose talking in his head. "You can do this. You're somebody — an attorney who's making a fast stop at the bank. Use your charm. Smile and flatter the young clerk. You'll make her day, and she'll have you opening that safety deposit box in minutes. Remember — open it, grab whatever is in there, and leave. Don't walk too fast so you look suspicious, but don't hang around either. Just a quick wave and a smile, and you are out the front door. Stay focused, man. We are going to be rich."
 
He knew the conversation by heart. It had replayed in his thoughts all night, and now it was time.

Two men in dark suits walked past his table and left the coffee shop. Alejandro's gaze followed them as they crossed the street and entered the bank's double glass doors.
 
Had they been looking at him? Were they warning officials that he was there?
 
The fear of being caught tightened its grip, making every second feel like an eternity.

He felt like a neon light flashed above his head with a large red arrow announcing, "Arrest this man."

His phone buzzed, jarring him out of his spiraling thoughts. For a split second, his heart hammered, and thoughts of someone calling to stop him flashed through his mind. He snatched his cell off the table and stared at the screen. Jose's smiling face stared at him. He exhaled, barely realizing he'd been holding his breath.

"You feeling rich?"

The casual text mocked him, but the message put a stamp of reality on his day. His temperature rose as he felt the rush of blood pulsing through his veins and to his head. He rubbed his temples, hoping for the pulsing to stop. It didn't.

He pressed the call button on his phone. It rang once, twice, and finally, Jose's smooth, confident voice oozed through the line from the other end.

"Alejandro, my man, what's going on?"

He envied Jose's ability to make everything seem like it would go his way. He swallowed hard before he spoke, his voice hushed, "Jose, I don't know about this."

Jose's voice remained steady, "Listen to me. You've got this."

Alejandro's gaze moved from the coffee shop window, catching his reflection in the window and to the bank. "What if I mess up? We don't know how well they knew Beckett. They might figure it out."

"Beckett was just another customer, an unknown. All you have to do is walk in, hand them your ID, take the key, and get the box's contents. It's like winning the lottery."

Alejandro's laugh was hollow. "That's easy for you to say. You forget I am walking in there, pretending to be someone else."

"To them, you're just another guy. As long as you stay calm, they'll stay calm."

Alejandro rubbed the back of his neck. "What if they want me to sign something? My signature won't look like Beckett's."

After a pause, Jose's voice softened, "Listen, I trust you. I wouldn't have sent you to do this if I didn't believe you could. Now, you need to trust yourself. Just follow the plan — get in and get out."

Alejandro inhaled and exhaled, struggling to calm himself. Finally, with little conviction, he muttered, "I can do this!"

"Damn right, you can."

Taking another deep breath, Alejandro let it out slowly as he watched the people entering and leaving the bank. "Okay. I'll call you when it's done."

"I'll be waiting."

Alejandro hung up the phone and stared at the cup of coffee, now cold. He stood up and pushed his chair back, searching for the confidence his friend expected him to have. His legs felt like lead as he moved toward the door. Jose's words replayed in his mind —"You've got this!" He could hear the words, but somehow, he lost the sound of confidence in the translation.

It was now or never.
 
Outside, the bank loomed in front of him. He took one final breath, ignoring the stranger reflected in the glass door, and stepped inside.

"Buy a rose, sir?" a small voice cut through his thoughts.

Alejandro glanced down to see a boy with a tattered shirt and worn-out shoes holding a single red rose. A pang of sympathy tugged at him — this kid barely looked old enough to be alone. However, he turned to leave, his mind preoccupied with what he had to do.

"Great gift for your lady," the boy added, hopeful eyes staring at him.

Alejandro hesitated, then reached into his pocket, pulling out a few crumpled dollars. He handed them to the boy, taking the rose without another word. As he walked across the bank foyer, he smiled as if now he had a disguise.

He approached the front desk where the young clerk was stationed and offered a cheerful good morning.

She looked up from her computer, and her curious eyes met him with polite interest. "Good morning. How can I help you today?"

On the inside, his heart was pounding, but outside, he slipped into the act he had rehearsed in his bathroom mirror. His voice was smoother than expected, offering a touch of confidence he barely recognized. "Good morning to you, beautiful." He held up the rose with a grin. "I saw this and thought it would look much better in your hands than mine."

The young woman blinked in surprise, and a rosy pink crept across her cheeks. "Oh, for me? That's so kind of you." As she accepted the rose, her fingers brushed his hand briefly.

Alejandro leaned against the counter, smiling and trying to act like a man who did this every day. "You're the highlight of my morning," he winked, watching the smile cross her lips. "Sadly, I have business to attend to and need to access my safe deposit box. I'm running behind, so I hope this won't take much time."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, still smiling. "It should only take a minute or two. May I see your ID, please?"

Alejandro's fingers twitched as he pulled the false ID from his pocket. As he slid it across the counter to her, their fingers brushed again. Hoping to distract her, he added, "Do you mind me asking what cologne you are wearing? It smells so fresh, not heavy like so many women wear."

"Most men wouldn't even notice. It's called Cashmere." Flustered, her cheeks turned a brighter pink. "Let me prepare this paperwork so you aren't late for your appointment."

His pulse raced, but he added calmly, "Take your time, no rush." Inside his head — he was already mentally walking out the door with the papers in his hand.

The junior clerk typed something into her computer and slid a form across the counter with a pen. "I just need your signature here, Mr. Beckett."

Alejandro's throat tightened. His palms were sweaty, and an entire band of drums played inside his chest. He glanced at the form and picked up the pen, knowing this was it. One wrong move, one second too long, and this charade could fall apart.

From beneath his lashes, he saw the clerk twirling the rose in her fingers, admiring the delicate petals. Her cheeks were still pink. A smile crept across his face. She was not thinking about the task at hand, that he was sure.

Yet, his hand trembled as he scribbled a barely legible "Arthur Beckett" on the line. He slid the paper toward her, and the tension in his chest tightened as he waited for her reaction.

Without glancing at the form, she handed him his ID, murmuring, "I like your smile. You should have done that on your ID." Then, realizing she might have said too much, she grabbed a set of keys and motioned for him to follow her. "If you'll come with me, we'll get you to that safe deposit box."

When they reached the vault, she opened the heavy door with a swipe of her card, leading him inside. Rows upon rows of small, numbered boxes lined the walls. She gestured to the one marked with the number he'd memorized from Jose's instructions.

"Here it is," she said, unlocking the box with her key before stepping aside. "Just give me a call when you're done."

Alejandro nodded, watching her leave. The door closed behind her with a soft click. His hands were shaking as he inserted his key into the box. He sighed when he heard the click that unlocked the box.

Inside was a slim folder, plain and unassuming. He saw the name Lila Whitaker. His heart raced as he grabbed it, tucking it under his jacket. He didn't dare open it here — that would come later when he was safely out of the bank.

As he reached for the other papers, he heard footsteps coming his way. His pulse quickened as a man in a crisp suit appeared in the doorway — a bank officer.

The officer's eyes flicked from Alejandro to the open safe deposit box.  His eyebrow furrowed. "Excuse me, sir, I noticed the name Arthur Beckett on the records, but —"

Alejandro froze. His mind raced. "He knows I'm not Beckett."

He slammed the vault door against the officer's shoulder without a second thought, sending the man stumbling backward. He bolted, the folder tucked securely under his arm, adrenaline surging through him.

The officer shouted for security, but Alejandro didn't look back. He pushed through the heavy doors, knocking into a few customers as he sprinted toward the exit.

He could hear the commotion inside as he burst onto the street, but he didn't stop. His heart pounded in his ears, but he kept moving, one step at a time. He could feel the precious papers against his chest, and the thrill of the heist was nearly intoxicating.

Just a few more seconds —

Author Notes Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Alejandro - Jose's childhood friend
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog


Chapter 25
Spirited Justice Chap 25

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
 
 
Angelo stood in the middle of the atrium, amazed by the sheer beauty surrounding him. Sunlight filtered down from the vaulted glass ceiling, casting warm, golden light across the lush plants and sleek marble pathways. The vibrant greenery and gently swaying palms gave the space the feel of an exclusive tropical resort — an oasis nestled in the heart of a world where chaos usually reigned.

The contradiction gnawed at Angelo as he scanned the space, taking in the cascading waterfall that splashed into a crystal-clear pond. It had none of the cold, clinical sterility he expected from a hospital.

He found it difficult to comprehend that this superior medical facility, with its peaceful ambiance, was owned by one of the city's most dangerous gangsters, Frank DiVito. The fact that the FBI, a symbol of law and order, had to turn to this hospital underscored the gravity of Naomi's situation.

The buzzing of his phone interrupted his moment of solitude. He'd ignored it the first three times, but the caller's persistence was wearing on his frazzled nerves. His body ached from the sleepless nights of watching someone he cared for teetering between life and death.

The phone buzzed again. Carlos's name flashed on the screen.

Angelo massaged his temples. He'd been betrayed by someone he had considered a friend — one to be cautious around but one he thought he could trust. Now, he felt his loyalty had been manipulated.

The phone vibrated angrily against the table. He cursed under his breath. He had to face the inevitable and answer the phone if he wanted Carlos to go away.

His hand hovered over the phone.

One deep breath.

Then another.

Finally, he snatched the phone and pressed it to his ear, growling, "I have nothing to talk to you about, Carlos. You set me up."

"No, Angelo, that's not how it was."

"You aren't talking to one of your flunkies. You had me chasing a ghost while you pulled your son out of the fire. I refuse to be your errand boy. You and I are done."

"I did what I had to do to save my son."

"Mission accomplished, though I doubt it will be long before he requires a rescue again. Isn't that what you do, Carlos? Follow behind him, cleaning up his messes."

"Si! What you say is the truth, but what's happening now is bigger than you or me."

"What's happening is a woman is lying in a hospital, possibly taking her last breath, because of your son."

Carlos gasped. "For this, I am sorry. But listen to me — do you want her troubles to be for nothing?"

"You don't understand. If I saw Jose, I would kill him. Do you understand the hatred I have for your flesh and blood? I cannot — will not — clean up after him. He's your problem unless you want him dead, then I assure you, I could accommodate your wishes."

"I am not asking you to save Jose." Carlos paused, his voice filled with sadness when he spoke, "I will deal with him, but he has a plan in motion that must be stopped."

Angelo snarled, "A plan? What's he stealing now?"

"He has sent Alejandro to retrieve the contents of a safe deposit box. If the contents of the box get into my son's hands —"

"That's what Naomi's life was worth — a key to a safe deposit box?"

"Stolen research papers."

"What's so important about these papers?"

"I don't know the whole details, but I am told lives have been lost, but more importantly, lives can be saved if these papers are in the right hands."

"Your son's hands?"

"No! They must not reach Jose. That's why I need you. My men are preparing to get the papers. I am asking you to bring them to me. The jet will be waiting."

"Why can't your men bring them to you? It doesn't seem like a difficult task."

A silence fell across the phone line. Angelo could hear Carlos's heavy breathing as he waited for the answer. "You should not ask questions that would be better left unanswered. Let's just say they will be preoccupied with other affairs."

"Is this one of your tricks, Carlos?"

"No, my friend. I will turn the papers over to the authorities and my son with them."

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes, sadly, it must be done."

"If I deliver the papers to you, then we are through. I will not be at your call anymore. Understand?"

"Si! I understand. If you do this for me, I will honor your wishes."

"Okay, when do I go?"

"The jet is waiting now."

Angelo ended the call. He needed to check on Naomi and tell the staff that he would be leaving. He'd given them his cell number and left instructions to call no matter the time or day if there was any change in her condition. He despised having to leave, but if this meant he could cut ties with Carlos and Jose, it was what he needed to do.

*****

"Run! Don't look back — just keep going!" The commands blasted in Alejandro's head.

His breath came in ragged bursts as he forced his legs to move faster.

The shouting behind him grew louder, footsteps pounding against the pavement. He rounded the corner just as a gunshot shattered the air. The bullet's hiss cut close to his ear. His body jerked, ducking on instinct. His adrenaline surged.

"Who the hell was shooting? Had he missed the guard? Or was it someone else?"

Ahead, his rental car sat waiting. Thirty seconds  — that's all he needed to reach it.

But his mind screamed louder. "Run! Unless you want to spend the next decade in a cell, you better run faster than you ever thought possible."

He weaved between parked cars and darted into the street. A car was coming fast, but he threw himself into its path, praying they'd stop. Tires screeched, and doors swung open with military precision.

Before he could react, two men with cold eyes grabbed him. They moved like a machine, their grip unyielding. As another bullet whizzed by, they shoved him into the backseat of their black SUV. The doors slammed shut, and the car screeched off, vanishing down an alley.

"What the hell is going on?" Alejandro gasped, his breath hitching as panic set in. His heart raced, and fear gripped him like a vice. He twisted in his seat, glaring at the men in the front — Carlos's men. "Are you double-crossing the Hernandez family?"

One man, his face impassive, turned slightly. "Carlos sent us. We're bringing the papers back to the villa."

Alejandro's chest tightened. "I can handle it! Jose told me to do it." His voice wavered, the fear creeping in despite his best efforts to stay composed.

The man shook his head. "Not this time, Alejandro."

Alejandro's mind raced. Why not this time? Something was off, but they weren't giving him answers. This wasn't a rescue. Something told him that this might be the end of the line.

The car made a sharp turn, and his pulse quickened as they pulled onto a private road. His eyes widened as they approached a sleek private jet from Carlos' fleet. The plane wasn't meant for quick getaways but for people who needed to disappear. The realization hit Alejandro like a ton of brick. The jet was a symbol of his fate and a sign of the choices that lay ahead.

His heart hammered, but the panic gave way to doubt.

The car rolled to a stop. One man opened the door, gesturing for him to step out. Alejandro hesitated, scanning the runway. His mouth was dry, his nerves frayed.

"Get out!" The man's tone left no room for argument.

Alejandro climbed out of the SUV, his heart thudding as he spotted a figure standing by the plane. As he got closer, recognition hit him like a jolt of electricity.

Angelo.

Alejandro froze, uncertainty swirling inside him. Angelo wasn't the kind of man who got his hands dirty unless it was very important. If he was here, this was more than a mission for papers.

Alejandro swallowed hard. Angelo's presence meant he was about to be given a choice. And whatever choice it was, there would be no easy way out. Whatever Jose had promised him, it didn't matter anymore. Now, Carlos had control. And Angelo was waiting.

*****

Angelo watched as Alejandro stumbled toward him. He felt sorry for the young man. He'd been caught up in his hero-worshiping of Jose and had no idea how the situation could backfire so badly.

Stopping three feet from Angelo, clutching the folder, Alejandro's breath caught as his eyes locked with the private investigator. He could feel Carlos's henchmen looming behind him, their footsteps slow and heavy, closing in.

Angelo's lips curled into a smile. "Rough day, huh?"

Alejandro's glare was sharp, but the fear tightening his chest kept him silent.

Angelo shrugged casually, unfazed. "You don't have to talk to me." He tilted his head toward the folder in Alejandro's trembling hands. "I'm guessing that's what all the fuss is about. It's my job to bring whatever's in that folder to Carlos. Nothing more."

Alejandro tried to speak, but his throat was tight. "Wh-what about me?" His words came out jagged.

Angelo's expression remained indifferent, his eyes cold. "You're not my concern." He paused, his gaze shifting to the men behind Alejandro. "What happens when this plane takes off is between you and them."

One of the henchmen chuckled darkly. "Si, amigo, you like to dance, no?" His voice dripped with mockery. The other man tapped his gun lightly against his thigh as if considering using it.

Alejandro felt his legs weaken. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see the men out of the corner of his eye. Their expressions twisted with amusement, resembling wolves toying with their prey.

The man with the gun lifted it, his finger tapping the trigger as he pointed the barrel at Alejandro's feet. "Maybe you want to dance for us?" the man sneered.

The other man snickered, lifting his own gun as if ready to fire at Alejandro's feet and force him into a terrified jig. "Or maybe —" the man leaned in, his breath hot against Alejandro's ear, "you'd rather make love to the barrel, eh?"

A wave of terror shot through Alejandro's body, cold sweat running down his spine. He felt bile rise in his throat. His hand jerked, clutching the folder tighter as he considered his options —none of them good.

Desperation clawed at him. He thrust the folder forward with a trembling hand toward Angelo, his voice cracking. "Please — don't let them kill me. Here, take it. Take it, and just —just let me live."

Angelo didn't move at first, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out, taking the folder from Alejandro's hand.

One of the men behind him let out a disappointed groan. "Aw, come on, boss, we were just having some fun. Maybe we teach him a lesson."

Angelo turned his head slightly, a warning in his voice. "No one's dying unless I say so. Understood?"

The other henchman, the one with the gun, grinned. "But it's been a while since we had some fun."

Before Alejandro could react, the first man dropped a large duffel bag at his feet with a heavy thud. The zipper was half open, revealing neat stacks of cash inside—a lot of cash.

"You take this," the man said, his voice low and cold, "and start a new life. Far from the Hernandez family. You disappear, and you're a free man."

Alejandro stared at the bag, disbelief flooding his mind. His pulse pounded in his ears as the realization hit him. This was his chance — his only chance.

The man's voice cut through his thoughts, as sharp as a knife. "Otherwise, I promise you... you won't see the sun rise again."
 
Angelo looked at the terrified young man, realizing these men would rather kill him than see him live. He made a decision. "Take the car. I don't care where you go, but never come near the Hernandez Villa. Do I make myself clear?"
 
Alejandro nodded.
 
The first man tossed the car keys to Alejandro. "You are one lucky man."
 
Angelo turned toward the two men. "Sorry, boys, I guess you're riding with me." Glancing at a trembling Alejandro, he nodded, "I hear Canada is nice this time of year."
 
 

Author Notes Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Alejandro - Jose's childhood friend
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog


Chapter 26
Spirited Justice Chap 26

By Begin Again

 
 
 
 
The sun was setting as the limo drove up the long, winding road toward the villa. Angelo rested his head against the seat, taking in the beautiful landscape as the sun's golden rays kissed it goodnight. The serenity mocked what he knew awaited him inside.

The car slowed as it neared the mansion, its grandeur a symbol of power and control. But tonight, it was just a house where heads would butt, lives would change, and nothing would ever be the same.

During the plane ride, he repeatedly replayed this moment in his head, imagining the conversation with Carlos. He tried to rehearse what he would say, but nothing seemed right. As he walked through the garden with its fragrant honeysuckle blossoms, he was no closer to finding the right words.

His emotions churned inside him, a storm of conflicting feelings. Friendship and camaraderie reminded him that he and Carlos had been more than business partners. The outcome wouldn't be good no matter what happened in the next few minutes.

As Maria opened the door, Angelo took a deep breath, steadying himself. She touched his arm and murmured, "He waits in the study. God be with you and Senor Hernandez."

Angelo nodded and patted her hand. "Appreciate your prayers, Maria. It's a sad night."

He turned and walked toward the study as the housekeeper made the sign of the cross and hurried back to the kitchen, a clear sign that she wanted to be far away from the impending confrontation.

*****

The closed drapes blocked out the remaining sunlight and brought a sense of sorrow and tension to the room. Carlos sat behind his desk, whiskey in hand, staring at nothing. His sunken eyes, with their glazed look, sent a chill down Angelo's spine. The weariness and pain in his friend's face were not something Angelo was accustomed to seeing, and the sight caused his emotions to catch in his throat.

Carlos' usual robust greeting wasn't forthcoming. Instead, his voice was low, barely above a whisper, "Angelo, come in."

A few strides and, he moved from the doorway to the desk. Friendly formalities felt stilted. He didn't offer the usual handshake, and neither did Carlos.

He decided to skip all the pleasantries and face the monster in the room. "I let Alejandro go." His words, a confession of sorts, hung in the air.

Carlos set his glass down and nodded. "I figured that's what you would do."

"He's no saint, but Jose and their friendship always overshadowed his decisions. He deserved a second chance."

Carlos sighed, running his hand over his face. "He was a puzzle piece tangled in my son's choices." He looked down at his desk, his voice softening. "Sometimes I wonder if all this is my fault. Did I expect too much, or is the truth that I didn't expect enough?"

Angelo stepped closer and sat in the chair. Carlos slid the whiskey bottle and a glass toward him. He poured it and savored the burn as it slid down his throat.

Carlos' jaw tightened. "You have the documents, si?"

Angelo nodded and took the folded folder from his inside pocket. He slid them across the desk.

Carlos stared at the documents in front of him. "Where did I go wrong? How did we come to this moment where a father must choose between what's right and protecting his son?"

"You did what you thought was best. Unfortunately, Jose always wanted more. Now it isn't about the two of you anymore — too many lives are at stake."

Carlos stood, pushing his chair back. His hands gripped the edge of the desk, knuckles white. "One boy gets a second chance, but my son —" His voice trailed off.

Angelo could feel his pain but fought the urge to show sympathy. "I've cleaned up his messes more times than I can count. It's different this time. He crossed the line, and it can't be ignored."

Carlos remained silent, but the pained look in his eyes was unmistakable. He knew Angelo was right, and the thought of handing his son to the authorities gnawed at him.

"Though your ways aren't always right, you have always been an honorable man, Carlos. It's time to teach him the lessons he should have learned long ago. You must stop protecting him. You love him — that's why it must be done."

Carlos exhaled slowly. "I know. I have to turn him in. And I'll surrender the documents."

Still, Angelo tried to offer a sliver of solace. "It's the only way. You know that. If it were anyone else's son — you wouldn't hesitate."

He watched him carefully, knowing this wasn't easy for Carlos. The man wasn't just a kingpin in his world — he was a father, which made what would come next almost unbearable.

"I'll go talk to him," Carlos said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked to Angelo one last time, searching for some kind of validation. "For what it's worth — thank you for letting Alejandro go. Maybe there's some good left in all this after all."

*****

Carlos's hand trembled as it gripped the bedroom doorknob. A piece of him had died with every step from his study to Jose's room. He straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath, and willed his feet to step into the room.

He entered with a force he didn't feel. Shaking the folder in his hand, he mustered every ounce of anger from his body and yelled, "You've disgraced this family, Jose. You live a privileged life, and this is how you repay me?"

Lying comfortably in his bed, Jose didn't flinch. Amusement danced in his eyes as he flashed a cocky grin at his father. "Nice to see you too, Old Man. I'm doing fine, not that you bothered to ask."

"This is not one of your games. You act as if putting our family at risk is a joke. What you did —"

"What I did is prove I am better than you. I assure you that we will be swimming in money. You should be thanking me — kissing my feet." Jose's laughter was shrill, bordering on hysteria.

"Thanking you? You are a bigger fool than I thought. This is not about money. You can't erase the stain you've left on this family's name."

Still unfazed by his father's anger, Jose leans back on the pillows, smiling. "Come on, old man. You should be proud. Or is it too difficult to accept that I am not like you — I am better."

Carlos clenched his fists, shaking his head in frustration as he paced the room. "I wanted you to be better than me, but this is not the way. You are nothing but a reckless fool."

Ignoring his father, he asked, "Where's Alejandro? I must thank him for following my plan and bringing the papers. He wants a few extra dollars, I suppose."

Carlos stiffened, his eyes narrowing as he studied his arrogant son. "Your friend — has been taken care of."

Jose's smirk faded. His eyes flashed with anger. "What the hell does that mean? Only I can decide what Alejandro does and doesn't do — he is not your friend."

"Friend! To you, he is a puppet, a toy to amuse you. Nothing more."

"Alejandro understands me."

"Does he? Did he know you sent him into the lion's den without a plan?"

"I gave him a plan. He just needed to follow what I told him to do, and as you see, he must have done just that because you have the papers in your hand. I'll take them — now."

Carlos's gaze hardened, his voice cold and filled with a sense of finality Jose had never heard from him before. "You'll never get these papers, Jose. I won't let you destroy our family, not for greed. The papers are going back to where they belong. It's time for you to be a man."

Jose's sneer deepened, his hand twitching beneath the sheets. 'You never understood, old man. I'll prove to you how small you are, how I've already won.' And then, from beneath the sheets, the gun appeared. "Father, I'm sorry it has come to this."

A second of confusion flickered across Carlos's face as he stared at his son and the gun pointed at him. Before he could react, a shot rang out, mixed with Jose's high-pitched laughter. Carlos stumbled, clutching his side as blood seeped through his fingers. Gasping for breath, he collapsed against the edge of the bed before his body hit the floor with a heavy thud. For a moment, everything froze.

Then, like a slow-motion movie, the door swung open, slamming against the wall. Two of Carlos's men with guns drawn rushed into the room. One look at Carlos's body crumpled on the floor, covered in blood, and their weapons fired. Jose slumped against the pillows — his chest riddled with bullets.

Maria was frantic as she rushed down the hallway. Her hands flew to her mouth as she whispered, "Oh, Dios mio! Senor Carlos!"

A bodyguard, his voice filled with agony, muttered, "Maria, call an ambulance —"

But Angelo heard none of it. He was on his knees next to Carlos, hands trembling as he pressed against the bleeding wound. The sight of his friend's lifeless eyes hit him like a punch to the gut. His voice cracked, "Carlos, stay with me, please —"

Carlos blinked, his face pale. "Angelo — the papers — take them. Don't — let him — have them," he rasped, each word a struggle. "Go! Leave —before it's — too late."

Angelo's heart pounded in his chest, his mind reeling. "I'm not leaving you here, Carlos. You can make it — hold on!"

His voice was barely audible, his eyes watery, and he mumbled, "It's too late for me. You must go."

Angelo shook his head as tears blurred his vision. "I can't leave you — not like this."

"You — must."

Choking back his emotions, he squeezed Carlos's hand, knowing his shallow breathing was probably his last, and whispered, "Hasta que nos veamos de nuevo." (Until we meet again.)

Behind him, the bodyguards exchanged uneasy glances, and one stepped forward, grabbing Angelo by the arm. "Senor Angelo," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Come. You must go before the policia arrive."

Angelo hesitated, his heart breaking as Carlos's hand slipped from his grasp, but he knew he had no choice. He glanced one last time at his friend's lifeless form, his body cold and still on the floor.

His steps were hurried but unsteady as he made his way out of the villa. The once-grand halls now echoed with the chaos and violence of the evening. The distant wail of sirens grew louder as they approached.

Angelo reached the front door, pushing it open with a forceful shove. The cool night air hit him like a slap. He made it to the waiting limo, his breath ragged gasps. As he turned for one last look at the villa, his eyes were drawn to the windows of the study and the bedroom, where he had spent his last moments with Carlos.

With a heavy heart, he slid into the back of the limo, the door shutting behind him with a final click. The driver started the engine, and the car pulled away from the villa.

The plane was ready for takeoff, the engines already rumbling. Angelo barely noticed the bustling activity around him as he boarded. He sank into his seat with a heavy sigh.

As the plane began ascent, he gazed out of the window, watching the villa shrink. The lights of the mansion twinkled a haunting goodbye.

Author Notes Danielle "Danni" Delahanty -- Ghost Detective
Eleanor Bennett -- Beloved Ghost Advisor
Matthew Donatelli -- Detective
Jenna Bradford -- Journalist and Pageant Consultant
Naomi Henderson -- Lawyer/ex-lover of Donatelli -
Arthur Beckett - deceased lawyer, friend, and enemy of Naomi
Patti Beckett - ex-wife from a nasty divorce
Hilda - a pageant contestant and medical researcher
Klaus - Hilda's older brother and protector
Johan - a supposed friend of Hilda's family with a connection to Jose
Angelo Carter - a private investigator with a dark side
Carlos Hernandez - a Mexican landowner with power
Jose Hernandez - Carlos's son - a reckless playboy
Alejandro - Jose's childhood friend
Garth Woodman - FBI Agent
Tango and Poppa - FBI agents under Garth
Allie - his love who died of cancer (an investigative reporter)
Dr. Rosa Galotti -- Morgue Medical Examiner
Emily - Jenna's faithful assistant
Lila - a pageant contestant who was murdered for her research
Thomas Whitaker - Lila's father
Sophia - Lila's sister (blind)
Max - Sophia's best friend and guide dog

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