Status: This is my NaNoWriMo 2015 attempt. Let the horror begin!
To Kill a Ghost
Chapter Eight
Kirkland peered through the tinted windows of the café, The Book Nook. He couldn’t find the dark haired woman anywhere. Yes, he was about fifteen minutes early, but she was twenty minutes late. She was asking for too much trust in a bad situation, and he was no one to put his trust in these sorts of deals.
“I don’t believe my guest is joining me. Would you please make my order to go, and add a vanilla latte while you’re at it.” Kirkland told the waiter whose attention he finally caught. The collaged aged boy looked at him as if he had three heads. “Did I stutter?”
“You didn’t order anything yet, Sir,” the waiter said. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“One large black coffee, one vanilla latte, and two cheese croissants,” Kirkland repeated, “a blonde girl took that same order almost half an hour ago. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“No blondes work here, but I’ll have that out in ten minutes.” The boy’s voice shook as did his hand as he jotted down the order.
“Make it five, and I still might give you a better tip than you deserve.” He waved off the young boy as he continued to watch the streets. Nothing came toward his eyes, but the reflection in his well placed sunglasses showed a familiar woman walking slowly in a white, knee length skirt toward him.
Who does she think she is? Jackie-O?
A black hat sat atop her head, cocked to the right side. Its wide brim hid half her face, and left the other half in shadow. Kirkland decided at once that she didn’t think of herself as Jackie-O. She must have assumed this was a bad mafia movie, and it offended him more than he liked to admit.
“You’re late,” he stated as he looked down to the golden faced watch on his wrist. Kirkland didn’t like to present himself as fancy, but his leather banded, gold faced watch was the one luxury he didn’t mind showing off. The waiter had two and a half minutes before his tip got retracted.
“I am a working woman, Mr. Reeves.” She said with a crimson smile as she sat across from him.
“Such a shame. You see, I have other clients to attend too. Many of them are a far deal more important than a strange woman who didn’t give contact info.” Kirkland shrugged and glanced in the window toward the counter. The water scrambled with a brown paper bag. “Sorry, Stranger, I won’t be taking your case.”
“You do take cases though! Please, take this one.” Her voice hinged on a maddening plea.
“I’m shorthanded and I have a full schedule.” Kirkland smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe next time.” The waiter rushed out the door and to his side.
“This is your order, Sir.”
Kirkland glanced at his watch. “Two seconds early.” His smile reached his eyes now. He gave the boy a one hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“I…this…” the waiter stammered. Kirkland stood from his chair.
“Don’t thank me; just keep your mouth shut and your head down, Kid.” he patted the boy on his shoulder before he turned to leave.
“Why won’t you help me?” The dark haired woman half yelled as she moved to catch up to him.
“There are a number of reasons, but to name a few; number one, you remind me of my past; and number two, I’m pretty sure you’re with those FBI agents in that black surveillance van.” Kirkland looked down at her for a long moment. “I am a private investigator. Yes, I worked to pay my bills as a mercenary once, but that is not what I do now.” He ran his fingers through his graying hair, while hunching his shoulders.
“They’re not surveillance. I need security, and obviously I need to take my money elsewhere.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “They said you were the best. Obviously, you’ve lost your touch.”
“Tell that to the daughter who still thinks I’m a hard ass.” Kirkland retorted as he put on his sunglasses. “Insults don’t work.”
“He tried to kill me twice, now.” She whispered. He almost didn’t hear. “Once last year, he thought I was dead in an explosion. Sam destroyed twelve lives, but I survived. He found out I was alive and last month someone tried to shoot me in the park.” Their eyes locked. Something that seemed like understanding spread through them. “How would you like for your daughter to live that way?”
Kirkland shook his head. “I never said she was my daughter. She is someone’s little girl though.” He sighed again and took a sip of his coffee.
“Fine, we’ll talk about it more, Ms…”
“Wilson. My name is Sarah Wilson.” She answered. Relief flooded her features, but Kirkland still did not trust this woman.
“I don’t believe my guest is joining me. Would you please make my order to go, and add a vanilla latte while you’re at it.” Kirkland told the waiter whose attention he finally caught. The collaged aged boy looked at him as if he had three heads. “Did I stutter?”
“You didn’t order anything yet, Sir,” the waiter said. His brow furrowed in confusion.
“One large black coffee, one vanilla latte, and two cheese croissants,” Kirkland repeated, “a blonde girl took that same order almost half an hour ago. I haven’t seen it yet.”
“No blondes work here, but I’ll have that out in ten minutes.” The boy’s voice shook as did his hand as he jotted down the order.
“Make it five, and I still might give you a better tip than you deserve.” He waved off the young boy as he continued to watch the streets. Nothing came toward his eyes, but the reflection in his well placed sunglasses showed a familiar woman walking slowly in a white, knee length skirt toward him.
Who does she think she is? Jackie-O?
A black hat sat atop her head, cocked to the right side. Its wide brim hid half her face, and left the other half in shadow. Kirkland decided at once that she didn’t think of herself as Jackie-O. She must have assumed this was a bad mafia movie, and it offended him more than he liked to admit.
“You’re late,” he stated as he looked down to the golden faced watch on his wrist. Kirkland didn’t like to present himself as fancy, but his leather banded, gold faced watch was the one luxury he didn’t mind showing off. The waiter had two and a half minutes before his tip got retracted.
“I am a working woman, Mr. Reeves.” She said with a crimson smile as she sat across from him.
“Such a shame. You see, I have other clients to attend too. Many of them are a far deal more important than a strange woman who didn’t give contact info.” Kirkland shrugged and glanced in the window toward the counter. The water scrambled with a brown paper bag. “Sorry, Stranger, I won’t be taking your case.”
“You do take cases though! Please, take this one.” Her voice hinged on a maddening plea.
“I’m shorthanded and I have a full schedule.” Kirkland smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe next time.” The waiter rushed out the door and to his side.
“This is your order, Sir.”
Kirkland glanced at his watch. “Two seconds early.” His smile reached his eyes now. He gave the boy a one hundred dollar bill. “Keep the change.”
“I…this…” the waiter stammered. Kirkland stood from his chair.
“Don’t thank me; just keep your mouth shut and your head down, Kid.” he patted the boy on his shoulder before he turned to leave.
“Why won’t you help me?” The dark haired woman half yelled as she moved to catch up to him.
“There are a number of reasons, but to name a few; number one, you remind me of my past; and number two, I’m pretty sure you’re with those FBI agents in that black surveillance van.” Kirkland looked down at her for a long moment. “I am a private investigator. Yes, I worked to pay my bills as a mercenary once, but that is not what I do now.” He ran his fingers through his graying hair, while hunching his shoulders.
“They’re not surveillance. I need security, and obviously I need to take my money elsewhere.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “They said you were the best. Obviously, you’ve lost your touch.”
“Tell that to the daughter who still thinks I’m a hard ass.” Kirkland retorted as he put on his sunglasses. “Insults don’t work.”
“He tried to kill me twice, now.” She whispered. He almost didn’t hear. “Once last year, he thought I was dead in an explosion. Sam destroyed twelve lives, but I survived. He found out I was alive and last month someone tried to shoot me in the park.” Their eyes locked. Something that seemed like understanding spread through them. “How would you like for your daughter to live that way?”
Kirkland shook his head. “I never said she was my daughter. She is someone’s little girl though.” He sighed again and took a sip of his coffee.
“Fine, we’ll talk about it more, Ms…”
“Wilson. My name is Sarah Wilson.” She answered. Relief flooded her features, but Kirkland still did not trust this woman.
Linox stared at the camera while little lines of white noise flickered on the screen. Dedra never went to the room. Did she understand his clue? A billions things rushed through his mind as he began to wonder what was going to happen, and what must be happening over Kirkland’s lunch.
A dark shadow slowly came into view before a pale face entered the camera. Linox could recognize those silvery eyes anywhere. “I keep expecting her not be as good as she thinks she is, but then she always proves she’s better than that.” He said to himself. He took a bite from the apple he found in Kirkland’s fridge.
Dedra waved to the camera before he pushed opened the door. “No! What are you doing?” Linox hissed. Specks of juice sprayed over his computer screen, but he ignored it. The door was left standing open, but he could see nothing inside the room.
A woman with long legs, barely any clothes, and blonde hair ran from the room before the door shut. Why would Dedra close the door between her researcher and her target? What was he missing?
Linox drowned himself in Sam’s file but there wasn’t a word about Dedra or Kirkland in it. He finally gave up when the bell to the main office went off. Kirkland needed to know about this, but Linox couldn’t tell him. He tried to think of something as he entered the hall.
“Boss, you might want to…”
“Sarah, this is my researcher,” Kirkland said with a smile as he grabbed his arm. “This is Linox. Where is your partner?”
“Not back from her run yet,” Linox said breathlessly as he stared at the dark haired woman with blue-green eyes. Her dress was pristine white while her shoes were black and scuffed. She had long legs and eyelashes. Her eyes were more than sad; they seemed perceptive. She reminded him oddly of Dedra. “Is this the…”
“Yes.” His smile faltered. “This is the client.”
A dark shadow slowly came into view before a pale face entered the camera. Linox could recognize those silvery eyes anywhere. “I keep expecting her not be as good as she thinks she is, but then she always proves she’s better than that.” He said to himself. He took a bite from the apple he found in Kirkland’s fridge.
Dedra waved to the camera before he pushed opened the door. “No! What are you doing?” Linox hissed. Specks of juice sprayed over his computer screen, but he ignored it. The door was left standing open, but he could see nothing inside the room.
A woman with long legs, barely any clothes, and blonde hair ran from the room before the door shut. Why would Dedra close the door between her researcher and her target? What was he missing?
Linox drowned himself in Sam’s file but there wasn’t a word about Dedra or Kirkland in it. He finally gave up when the bell to the main office went off. Kirkland needed to know about this, but Linox couldn’t tell him. He tried to think of something as he entered the hall.
“Boss, you might want to…”
“Sarah, this is my researcher,” Kirkland said with a smile as he grabbed his arm. “This is Linox. Where is your partner?”
“Not back from her run yet,” Linox said breathlessly as he stared at the dark haired woman with blue-green eyes. Her dress was pristine white while her shoes were black and scuffed. She had long legs and eyelashes. Her eyes were more than sad; they seemed perceptive. She reminded him oddly of Dedra. “Is this the…”
“Yes.” His smile faltered. “This is the client.”