Chapter 13

K ate arrived at the downtown building, the Paragon, Shawn's ghost building, not sharing her plans with Simon. She was running on empty as it was, but she was trying to get everything checked on her list before the weekend and her plans for a day off that she rather desperately needed, if she could get it. If things blew up, then sailing with Simon just wasn't happening, and that was a simple fact of life. She'd long given up arguing about it because they needed whatever breaks they could get, and, right about now, she was even more confused about her current case.

The forensics work done on Robert Mulhouse confirmed the supposed suicide was really a murder. Amie Mulhouse requested her husband's body, but that wouldn't happen yet. So she wasn't terribly pleased about it. When she found out that a full autopsy was in progress, she caterwauled pretty heavily.

"He was shot, for God's sake. You don't need to do anything else," she cried out. "Talk about harassment."

Kate didn't quite understand how looking after her husband's death was harassing Amie, but, hey, certain people, particularly people who were potentially murder suspects, weren't exactly the most reasonable, as far as Kate was concerned.

As she waited for the realtor to arrive to open up the building, she studied the nearby area and saw several homeless guys standing at a corner. She figured they were probably the homeless guys Simon had spoken to earlier. Since she was ten minutes early, she headed off to talk to them first. They stiffened as she approached, and a couple of them gave her sly smiles. She just nodded at them casually and began, "Old Shawn, he hung around here a lot, huh ?"

They just nodded.

"Don't suppose you heard that he died, huh ?"

Their eyes widened, but they didn't say anything.

She nodded. "He was found in the Feldspar house on Farwell Street."

At that, the older man wearing a cap shook his head. "Not familiar with the area."

She added, "It's a pretty high-end place."

"No reason for him to be there," noted the other guy. "He stayed here, so why would he be there?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," she murmured. "The first problem is how Shawn even got from here to there. Do you know if old Shawn ever worked or helped anybody out?" They just frowned at her, and she continued. "Or maybe he had a friend, somebody in that area?"

"Aren't no friends up there, not for people like us," replied the eldest of the trio. "Any friends any of us had walked away a long time ago."

"Maybe you walked away too," she murmured, staring at him intently.

He nodded. "Maybe we did, at that."

"I don't begrudge you your lifestyle," she stated, "and, if this is where you want to be, I'm totally okay with your being here, just as long as you don't hurt yourself or anybody else." The homeless men almost visibly relaxed, as if realizing she wouldn't roust them from their spot. "I do worry that you won't stay warm enough over the winter and that things will be a little tougher than you expect them to be."

"They always are," one stated.

"And what about Shawn?… Was he happy out here?"

The talkative one shrugged. "Sometimes he tried to get jobs and returned to mainstream life, but it didn't work out so well for him. He had a lot of PTSD to deal with."

She'd heard that about many, many of the homeless. "Was he a military veteran?"

The tallest guy nodded. "Yeah, and it really affected him. He also had some other issues." He made a circling motion around his ear.

She smiled at him. "Yeah, I hear you." Of course many of the guys out here had issues, not necessarily mental ones. However, mental health was a huge factor in the homeless population. "You guys got any idea how Shawn might have gotten from here to there?"

They shook their heads.

She faced the tallest guy again. "What about you? How well did you know him? Would somebody have picked up Shawn and taken him home, maybe for a meal?"

He shrugged. "Could happen to any of us," he muttered, as he looked around, frowning. "Shawn really was a good guy. He didn't break into places or steal. He begged, but everything was handed over willingly," he explained, and a touch of sorrow filled his tone for what had happened to Shawn.

"What about the Feldspar house?" she asked, her gaze going from one to the other, but locking onto the older guy's face. "Do you know anything about that?"

The old guy shook his head. "Don't know no Feldspar house."

"That's where Shawn was killed, or at least where he was found," she corrected herself.

"Meaning he wasn't killed there?"

"We don't know yet." She looked from one to the other. "I have to admit we are a little stumped as to how he ended up there."

"Somebody took him there," the youngest of the three said, with a snort. "Even I can figure out that much."

She glanced at him, then nodded. "That rings true, but did you see anybody pick him up? Did you see anybody give him a ride somewhere?"

He shook his head. "I haven't talked to him in a while."

"Why is that?"

"He wouldn't let anybody into the Paragon. He was protective of it," he replied, pointing at the old abandoned building. "He said ghosts were in there."

"I did hear that he believed ghosts were there," she noted, turning to look at the Paragon. "Have you guys ever heard or seen any?"

One guy snorted. "We hear and see lots, but it sure as hell isn't ghosts."

She gave him a sideways glance. "I don't suppose you want to elaborate on that?"

"No, I sure don't," he snapped and turned his back to her.

She looked over at the older guy, and he shrugged, before adding more.

"Old Shawn was getting a little bit more tetched in the head all the time, but he kept saying ghosts were in the building, and somebody needed to make them happy."

"Maybe the ghosts killed him to make them happy," the youngest guy snapped. "I don't like this talk of ghosts." And, without warning, he booked it away from them. As Kate watched him run, she looked over at the others and asked, "Is that normal for him?"

"Yeah, it sure is," the older guy confirmed. "Too many drugs, so he's also tetched in the head."

She nodded. "If you remember anything else, call me." She handed over her card to the two guys. Then she pulled out a couple bills from her pocket and handed one to each of them. "Otherwise go get yourself a hot meal and a cup of coffee."

The older guy smiled at her. "Didn't think you would be all bad."

"No, I'm not all bad," she said. "I don't move along the homeless. I'm only here about the dead, and right now the dead is your friend Shawn, and I will do my best to find out what happened to him."

Just as she went to walk away, the other guy who had remained fairly quiet so far added, "There was a black truck."

She pivoted and asked, "When and where?"

He hesitated, then looked at the older guy, who just stared at him, almost as if giving him encouragement to continue. "I saw it the other day. Shawn was talking to the driver, and they… they seemed kind of friendly."

"Shawn knew him?"

He nodded at that.

"Did Shawn get in the truck?"

At that, he nodded.

She felt the first vestiges of excitement inside her. "Would you recognize the truck if you saw it again?"

He shook his head. "No, probably not. But it had a dent. "

"Okay, where is the dent?"

"Front bumper," he muttered. He looked back at the older guy again, obviously needing the other guy's approval to even talk to her, at least in his own mind. Then he finally said, "It was black and had 289 on the license plate."

"Where on the plate?"

"At the end of it," he said in a low voice, "and the guy was tall."

"How do you know he was tall?"

"Because his head came clear up to the top of the cab. I was just sitting here, thinking about how tall he seemed."

"Was there anything over the bed of the truck? Did it have a tonneau cover or a canopy?"

He shook his head at that. "No, it didn't, but it had those silver hooks sticking out on the edge of the bed for tying down stuff," he muttered. "I don't remember any more, except it was dirty, really dirty. I was thinking it would be a good graffiti truck," he shared, with a small smile.

"And which direction did they go?"

He stared at her blankly, then pointed down the road.

She nodded. "Any idea how long they were standing there, talking?"

He shrugged. "Five, ten minutes, I guess, but it was friendly, like they knew each other, but I don't know how old Shawn knew anybody with a truck like that."

"Because we all have a past that isn't this life," the older guy noted. "We all have history, and maybe Shawn bumped up against a bit of his. That happens from time to time."

"If he did, he didn't seem too upset about it," the other man said, with a surprised look in his buddy's direction. "Most of us turn and walk the other way when we see someone from our past. "

The older guy pondered that for a moment and then nodded. "That's true. That's true." He looked over at Kate and pointed. "Your lady is waiting."

At that, Kate spun around to see the realtor standing there, shifting impatiently on the steps to the Paragon building that Kate needed access to. She smiled at the two helpful homeless guys. "Thank you. Remember to get yourself some food." And, with that, she quickly crossed the road to talk to the realtor.

The realtor glared at her as she approached. "Jesus, we all have work to do. You could have been here on time."

" You could have been, yes," Kate replied smoothly. "I was talking to the guys across the street, while I waited for you to show up."

"Oh," the realtor's face twisted in a sour expression. "Jesus, the building's empty."

"Whether empty or not isn't the point," Kate explained. "I prefer legal access if I can get it, but, if you don't want legalities in place for your clients, I'll note that in the future."

"Oh, whatever," the realtor huffed.

As she walked into the building, Kate could see why Simon was in love with this place. She sighed as she stood here and stared up at the vast majestic entrance and the openness of the old building.

"What was that sigh for?" the real estate agent asked, but only curiosity seemed to fuel her curiosity, not her previous snarky attitude.

"I imagine this building was really something back in the day," Kate noted.

"Yeah, it sure was."

Kate turned to her and asked, "Where did you find the homeless guy staying? "

She shrugged. "A client told me where he was." She quickly led the way to the stairwell and pointed at the mess on the floor. "This is where he was sleeping."

"Did you talk to him?"

"Only to move the human," she muttered, with a wince. "I'm not generally a person who talks to the homeless."

Kate didn't say anything to that, just stared at the realtor.

"That doesn't make me a bad person," the realtor snapped.

"I didn't say it did," Kate clarified, still eyeing the other woman closely. "I just happen to know that Shawn, the homeless guy in question, has been murdered."

The real estate agent looked sick at that comment. "Jesus. See? That's one of the reasons I don't talk to them," she muttered.

"They have broken lives, lives that they get murdered for," Kate muttered, and she shook her head at that, "and don't even tell me that you don't know what I mean."

"If you mean they live vulnerable lives in society and are, therefore, exposed to a lot more crime, illness, and other unfortunate elements such as inclement weather"—Ariel nodded—"that's quite true. But if you are suggesting that homeless people get murdered more often than other people… I don't think we have statistics to support that theory."

Kate wouldn't waste her time updating this realtor's ignorance on the subject. Kate wandered the area, then put on a pair of gloves and sifted through the garbage left behind in Shawn's usual spot.

Not a whole lot to see. A couple empty food wrappers, a bottle of water with some odd substance in the bottom of it. Frowning, she tightened the bottle cap and put the bottle in an evidence bag. As she walked around a few other areas, she looked back at the real estate agent and said, "You don't have to stay."

The agent looked around nervously and nodded. "I do need to leave."

"That's fine. Go ahead and go." Kate smiled. "It's not as if I need to lock up when I leave."

"That's quite true." Ariel hesitated and then added, "If you do come up with anything, can you please let me know?"

"Why?" Kate asked, looking back at her.

"So I can tell the owner, of course," she replied in astonishment.

"I'll contact the owner myself."

"Oh, yes, of course." And, with that last uncomfortable move, the realtor made her escape.

As soon as she knew that the woman was gone, Kate turned, looked around at the building, and her thoughts just flew out of her mouth.

"Simon seems to really love you," she shared, "and I can see why, but secrets are here, lots of secrets, and I really want to find out what they are." After that, she did a pretty intensive search of the old building. It was mostly empty, with very little in the way of personal possessions of whoever else had been here. Yet she found glimpses of what this building had been at one point in time—multiple offices on various floors, plus a couple residential units.

She found various items and paperwork lying around, all of which, if she had time and budget money, she wanted forensics to go through. As it was, she carefully went through a lot of the paperwork, trying to get an idea of just what had been going on here and maybe what could have been the connection between this place and the Feldspar house.

As she wandered up and down the various floors of this building, she got a text from Simon, just two words.

Third floor.

She frowned at it and shook her head but headed up there anyway. She stared out one of the windows at the view and found such beauty and a sense of serenity in the city outside that she felt some of her tension easing.

"I hope Simon does buy you," she murmured. "He would do you justice."

And, with that, she walked along the third floor, nothing but offices set up here. At one she stopped because of the papers all over the floor, some of them water damaged. An old desk, scarred and well-worn, remained. She looked inside and found a couple of old business cards.

She smiled as she saw a private detective agency's name on both, but one was more crumpled than the other. She took the crumpled one and pocketed it for future reference and then continued her search. Simon had pointed her to the third floor, and here she was. Yet she just didn't know exactly what she was looking for.

As she entered the last office in the far-right corner, she groaned because this area seemed to have housed a ton of people for a very long time. She found empty food packages, old clothing, towels, and generally a disgusting mess. She walked deeper inside this room, grateful to be wearing gloves, as she saw needles and medicinal bottles in various corners.

She kicked away a pile of papers and uncovered a mangled briefcase, probably stolen in hopes of finding money, cash, or jewels inside. She almost laughed at that because it served them right if they thought they would get one million dollars out of this. Then she dropped down for a closer look at the papers, which appeared to be legal documents.

As she reviewed some of the pages, she saw Feldspar listed in the contact info. These were legal documents pertaining to the Feldspar family. Reading that, she got down on her knees and got to work sorting through the pages, not sure what she was looking for, but knowing more than ever that something was here, and she was determined to find it.

*

The next day, Simon was walking one of his rehabs, with Joe bringing him up to date, when his phone rang in his pocket. He quickly fished it out and groaned when he saw the name. "Ariel, what is your problem?" he snapped into the phone. "If I'm interested in a property, I'm interested when it suits me and not before."

A moment of silence came on the other end. Then, the real estate agent, her tone huffy, replied in a snappish tone, "I thought maybe you would want to know that the seller dropped the price."

He gave half a smile. "Of course they dropped the price, but it still won't make me jump for joy unless it's a major drop." Of course any drop showed that the owner had an interest in selling, and that was important information for Simon. "What did he drop it to?" he asked, keeping it casual, or at least trying to.

She sniffed in that way of hers that was enough to make it sound arrogant but held back enough so Simon really couldn't get pissed off at her, yet at the same time he wanted to .

"They dropped it one hundred grand."

Simon sighed. "So, they're interested in selling, but they're still a long way off from market."

"Why do you think that?" she asked. "It's prime real estate."

"Only if you're prepared to drop it and rebuild," he noted. "And, with the interest rates and the other major building going on downtown right now, I highly doubt that anybody is too interested at present."

"I've certainly had a lot of interest," she declared in a smart tone of voice.

"Good for you," he replied, deliberately not rising to her bait. "You'll probably get more nibbles, until they see the state of the building. I haven't been down to the city offices yet to see if there are any issues with the property. Have you?"

"No, of course not," she said, with a laugh that rang in his ears. "Who has time for that stuff?"

"Anybody who wants to sell it," he murmured, "or who wants to buy it."

"I'm busy. I've got to go." She wasn't having any of it. And she quickly disconnected.

He understood what she meant because really the responsibility fell to the buyer to check with the city to ensure that any problems were found at this point in time, not down the road after you had tied up millions of dollars to purchase a property that would quite likely be nothing but a headache. Simon surely didn't need that.

Joe looked at him intently. "You're after another property?"

Simon shrugged. "It's not that I'm after another property, but a property that's been on my wish list for a very long time is for sale."

Joe frowned. "I won't tell you not to buy anything else because obviously that's how I make my living too," he shared, "but we are spread a little thin right now."

"This one needs engineers on it before I get too cozy with the concept of taking it on," he added, with a small smile. "Besides… it also comes with ghosts."

At that, Joe's eyebrows shot up. "Ghosts?"

Simon nodded. "Apparently it's haunted, at least according to a homeless guy who had been living there for quite some time."

"Yeah, homeless guys being what they are," Joe noted, shaking his head, "I wouldn't put too much stock in his words."

"This guy wound up murdered just recently, so I don't know."

"Is he connected to the property?" Joe asked in a careful tone. "You don't need that. Most of my guys aren't superstitious, but I would really hate to see us rehabbing a building guaranteed to cause even more problems. We have enough as it is."

Simon nodded. "We don't need any more. I agree with you there."

"What building is it?"

"The Paragon."

Joe just stared at him for a long moment. "That's been empty for a really long time," he said cautiously. "It could be a pretty-big job."

"No doubt about that. It will definitely be a big job," he confirmed, "and, as you know, that's what we do."

Joe winced. "Yeah, we sure do, but wouldn't it be nice if we had an easy one for a change?" But he was smiling at Simon. "I do appreciate that we fix up these old buildings and don't just take the easy road and drop them. I know that a lot of people, if not most, would think dropping them was the answer, but…"

"But it isn't always," Simon finished his sentence, with a nod. "Lots of times it isn't the right choice."

Joe replied, "That one could be biting off a lot."

"Oh, it will be for sure, but that doesn't mean I'm not interested though."

"Right, and that's why that bitchy real estate agent's all over you." Joe laughed. "Anybody who's got money for buildings like that? No wonder she's calling you all the time."

"Sometimes I find her irritating. Most of the time actually."

"Sure, but how come that one hundred thousand drop in asking price doesn't interest you?"

"It interests me in the sense that it means the owner is serious about selling, but realistically it's not enough to make a difference."

"Seriously?" Joe asked.

"No, we're talking millions here to buy it and more millions to fix it," Simon pointed out. "I want us well on track before we get to that point. So, the lower I get that selling price, the better for us all. Yet I can't do anything until I check things out at the city, and I haven't had a chance to get down there yet."

"I'm heading down there this afternoon," Joe noted. "Do you want me to pick up something?"

"Yeah, I sure do," Simon said. "How are you at standing in line?"

Joe snorted. "I guess you're paying for my time, so what do I care?" Simon groaned at that, but Joe just laughed. "It's part of the business, and we don't really have a choice."

"I know, but wouldn't it be nice if we did? Anyway, if you're going anyway, I'll get you a list of the documents I need."

Joe nodded. "Seems as if you're plenty busy yourself these days, without spending hours down there."

"Neither one of us really has time for that," Simon conceded, "but I don't trust too many people to get the right documents."

"Right, and that's not something we can screw up either," Joe agreed, with a nod.

"Why do you need to go down?" Simon asked Joe.

"To check on the paperwork and to ensure all the permits were filed properly for one of our other projects," he stated. "The plumber told me that they were, but I got a weird feeling from him when he said that."

"Ah, yeah, if you feel something is wrong there, please go check," Simon suggested, "although surely you've got those guys on speed dial."

"I do, but, with a lot of illness and staff changes down there," he explained, as if thinking out loud, "I prefer to show up in person, so I can talk to one of the clerks I know. A lot of times I can get more answers from them than the actual inspectors."

"I'm not at all surprised," Simon said, "and you are smart to build those relationships when you get a chance." With that, Simon quickly provided the addresses and lot numbers of a couple properties he needed information on. "I'll need the entire city file on the Paragon building though. I can't even contemplate buying it until I have a whole lot more to go on." He frowned and asked, "The clerks won't tell the realtor if anybody pulls that information, will they?"

"No, but they might inform the owner, yet that's unlikely. If you think you have grounds for a lawsuit, I would say rest easy," Joe added, with a laugh.

Simon shook his head. "I don't think anybody gives a crap about lawsuits when it comes to this stuff."

"It's probably all considered public information and available for anyone who wants to pay to have it pulled."

"There you go," Simon agreed. "Head down to city hall and get me those documents then, because I really need to see all of it."

"Then what will you do?"

He winced. "I'll head back over to the Paragon building and have a look around."

"Didn't you say that homeless guy was murdered there?"

"He was murdered, but not necessarily there. I won't know that until I get there and see if it's been declared a crime scene."

At that, Joe shook his head. "I don't know how you can even handle any of that crap," he muttered. "I don't want anything to do with it."

"And I get that." Simon nodded, and he did. After Joe's brother-in-law's death, Joe was even more sensitive to police matters.

"Better you than me," Joe muttered, with a shrug. "I'll finish up a few things here and then run down to city hall."

"Okay." Simon gave him a nod.

With that task out of his hair, Simon took one final look at the job being done here, then turned and headed out. He picked up a coffee on his way to the Paragon building. Once there, he stopped for a long moment on the street and took a look. As always, it seemed to be completely deserted. He didn't really want the realtor to know he was here yet again. He could do only so much bluffing. Yet, if he continued to be caught on the premises, she would know he was far more interested than he wanted her aware of.

Yet he didn't really have any reason to keep it a secret. If people knew he was interested, a few would take another look just to see what Simon saw in the building. Still, most would walk away, thinking he was nuts. Half the time they thought he was nuts anyway, so that made no difference to him at all. Yet, if he could make this work, he wanted this building.

It was a special building and had tugged at him for a very long time. Thus, if he could make it work, he knew in his heart he would be happy to rehab it. His emotional response to a building was a large part of what he bought anyway, and was the reason a lot of people thought he was nuts. He never talked about the reasonings behind his interest in certain buildings. He kept that to himself, knowing full well that other developers would say he was completely dealing in lunacy, since business and emotions never worked well together. But Simon also knew that, at certain times in life, you had to make decisions based on things besides the bottom line. For him, it was all about saving some of these old buildings and about what they could mean to him and to others.

The street was busy with office workers racing out for a meal, trying to pick up something to go, or quickly eating with friends and then racing back again. That nine-to-five rut that some people flourished in, and that others just detested, was being played out all around Simon. He understood, but he much preferred being his own boss, but that also meant that he took hits personally, when they came, and he certainly had had enough of them to keep him on his toes.

Buildings had a way of deceiving even the most diligent inspection, never knowing when you would open up a wall and find a completely different ball game. You almost had to plan for the absolute worst case in these situations, and Simon could do that, provided it was a building he was prepared to go all in for. He just had to make that decision ahead of time and then be prepared to absorb those bumps when they came, ready to just keep on working from there, trying to make the numbers work. At the end of the day he always strove for everybody to win.

It wasn't even about winning for him. It was the challenge that appealed to him. It was about saving something special, about restoring something to its former glory, something a lot of people didn't agree with. Regardless, most of them did not understand his obsession with restoration, which was okay too.

He thought Kate understood, not that he had explained a whole lot of it to her, but she had an understanding that went far beyond what he'd ever expected from her. He found this interesting side to her personality particularly fascinating. It's not that she accepted anything blindly, but she accepted a lot of things without question and internalized whatever she was working to understand. She was methodical, and he loved that it wasn't blind belief. She seemed to take a pause on a specific issue, until she had a chance to see it from different angles and to work her way through it. He had to appreciate that because so many people didn't give him the benefit of the doubt, instead opting for an all-out thought process, generally leaving him in the dust, not exactly a comfortable place to be .

When he'd first started out at meetings for some financing, he'd been very careful to keep his reasoning for picking various buildings to something that the banking industry would understand, which was literally the bottom line, and only the bottom line. Once he'd managed to keep them out of it, he'd been more than happy. Now he just worked on the buildings that he wanted, knowing he could handle things within the time frames and other parameters required. So far, he didn't have to deal with any more of those people who didn't understand or didn't choose to understand. They were all about themselves, and Simon got that; he really did.

Everybody had to work, and some had their own dramas. Simon just didn't want it to be his drama. When the dramas came his way, that's when things could get ugly.

It was one of the reasons why he deliberately didn't let any realtor know he was interested in any property because all too often they used that as leverage to contact other clients, with a marketing ploy of Hey, so-and-so is looking at this property. If you want in, you better put in a bid soon . As expected, it tended to increase interest and to jump the prices. Half the time he wondered if the bidders weren't ringers, with the realtors doing it deliberately, just getting other people to show interest in order to bump up the prices. Personally, Simon wouldn't put it past Ariel to do just that. The seller may have dropped the price on this property, but it was still high enough that Simon wouldn't be dancing to anybody's tune about it, at least not yet. Maybe never if they didn't come to some better terms, assuming his engineers didn't return with a deal breaker.

The building reared up in front of him, as he turned the corner, and he smiled, once again struck with almost a sense of awe at the beauty and majesty of her. He headed to the front step and opened the door, nodding as he realized that the door itself wasn't locked, even if it should have been, even if the real estate agent was supposedly on top of it.

If it were his building, it would definitely be locked, but so many people didn't have that same sense of care, which bothered Simon. Those people determined the property, as is, had no value. Therefore, they wouldn't respect anything about it. Simon felt a certain reverence to every deal he did, but he didn't care whether the sellers had it or not. In fact, it would be better if they didn't just because that made it easier for Simon to secure the deal that he wanted and to close it and move on.

Walking through the main floor of the Paragon building, Simon felt that same familiar sense, almost a possessiveness, that this is mine proprietary feeling, as if ownership was a given, as if just the paperwork needed to be done. Yet he knew he could lose this one because that was just the nature of the real estate beast. Either he would pay up or he would walk, and right now neither was of particular interest.

Almost as if Ariel knew where he was, Simon's phone rang again, and it was his lovely stalking realtor.

"Just wanted to let you know that I've got interest from Sancurr Developments," she greeted him, her tone almost swollen in delight.

"Good. Let me know if they make a move." Sancurr was known for dropping anything and everything and putting up new buildings as fast and as cheap as possible, then selling it off and moving on. So not Simon's type of thing.

"Wait.… As far as I know, they are making a move, and this is your one warning phone call," she added in exasperation .

"Good for you. Sounds as if you won't have to worry about it sitting on the market for too long."

"If you wanted it, you could have avoided this step."

"As I've told you repeatedly, I'm still not sure I do want it. So it'll be interesting to see if Sancurr goes through with it."

"Why? Don't you think they will?" she asked warily.

"Somebody showing interest," he began, then laughed, "is one hell of a long way from putting in an offer—especially on this place."

"Do you even realize that you're not very far from losing the entire thing?" she snapped. "I don't know why I keep trying to help you out."

" Are you helping me out? Or are you helping yourself out?"

"It's business," she replied, her tone turning stiff. "God, you're impossible when you're in this mood." With that, she disconnected.

He smiled because she was probably right; he probably was impossible in this mood. But what he definitely wouldn't do was get pushed by her, and she hadn't yet figured that out.

As he walked through the main floor, he headed for the stairwell where Shawn had been the first time Simon had run across him. He felt an odd sense as he got closer and closer. He frowned as he turned around warily, looking to see if he was still alone. Maybe he wasn't, as if somebody else was taking Shawn's spot. As Simon stood here, he closed his eyes, trying to get a handle of what he was sensing, and damn-near jumped when he heard a voice. He turned, and this weird shimmer stood in front of him.

"Oh, no, no, no," he muttered under his breath. "Oh, hell no." He didn't want to deal with spirits. He didn't want to deal with that kind of stuff. It was bad enough dealing with the psychic crap he already had to deal with, without having to deal with ghosts too. Yet, sure enough, the ghostly spirit stood before him.

When a voice called out to him a second time, he realized just how bad it was. He stared for a long moment and then in a low whisper asked, "Shawn?"

A rumble came, and Simon wasn't sure whether that was a yes or a no, but he definitely got some response. Before he had a chance to even question the spirit, the shimmering ghost, or the shadow… or whatever the hell it was in that space, just disappeared.