Chapter 6

K ate walked up the front steps to Simon's building, where he resided in the penthouse apartment, wondering if she should have phoned ahead of time. She was just so damn tired that it seemed almost impossible to keep her brain flowing properly at the moment. As she got to the front door, the doorman, Harry, opened it for her and smiled. "Hey, Kate."

She lifted a hand in acknowledgment. "Is he home?"

"He is, indeed. Is he expecting you?"

"I don't think so," she said, yawning, "I should have called him, but I didn't."

"Do you want me to let him know you're on the way up?"

She shrugged. "If it's part of your mandate, feel free. Otherwise he'll find out in a few seconds." She walked over to the special penthouse elevator, stepped in, and pushed the button to get to the topmost apartment. As soon as the door opened, Simon stood there, waiting for her. She smiled at him. "There is something to be said for having somebody waiting for me with a happy welcome on their face."

He nodded. "There is, indeed," he replied gently. "Tough day?"

"It shouldn't have been, but, yeah, in some ways it was. How about you? "

"It was okay. I looked at a new building today."

She sighed. "Don't you have enough projects on your plate?"

"I do." He nodded in agreement, "but this one's been on my wish list for a while. Besides, it has ghosts," he added, with a laugh. She frowned at him, startled, because he didn't often joke about such things.

He shrugged. "Whether I like it or not… it is what it is. According to a homeless guy I came across sleeping inside, ghosts are in this one."

"Interesting," she murmured, as she walked in, kicked off her boots, and collapsed on the couch. A glass of wine was held out to her, and she groaned with appreciation. "I wonder if I come here for you or for all the things that come with you?" A moment of silence came, and she grinned at him. "Just kidding." She caught him smiling too.

"I'm sure you're not kidding because in your mind that really would be a question you would ask yourself," he declared, amusement in his gaze. "Most people wouldn't broach such things out loud."

"It's much better to bring those things out into the light," she muttered, as she collapsed a little deeper into the couch. "Otherwise they're just lying about everything."

"It's not that they're lying, but they're choosing not to look too closely."

She stared at him over the rim of her glass. "Isn't that lying by avoidance?"

"No, it's simply avoiding the subject," he stated, with a chuckle. "Something else I don't ever see you doing."

"Not that I'm trying to bring up something that's unpleasant," she began in a tired tone, "but it just occurred to me, as you handed me the glass of wine, how damn nice it is to know that I get a warm welcome, and with it comes a glass of wine."

"I understand that. I really do. I'm just not sure that everybody would."

"Maybe I wouldn't say it to everybody," she suggested, with a shrug. "Maybe I would just not worry about it and keep it to myself.… However, in your case, I really don't want there to be anything that isn't open and honest between us."

He laughed. "And some people would say that's going beyond open and honest."

"Probably," she admitted. "As you know, I don't do the whole relationship thing very well."

"I think you do it marvelously," he declared, as he sat down beside her and tugged her to lean against his shoulder.

"You're quite cold," he noted in concern, as he shifted and took the glass from her hand, tucking her right half onto his lap. "How come?"

"I forgot to take a jacket with me today," she mumbled, as she nuzzled against his chest and smiled at the furnace underneath her ear. "I wasn't even really thinking about it when I was out walking around during the day, but the nighttime weather is definitely turning colder. Hard to believe it's almost Christmastime."

"It is, indeed. Do you have a jacket?" he asked.

"I do have a jacket," she said, "and the cold outside has made me a little cold inside." Then she laughed. "Which makes total sense, doesn't it?"

"It absolutely does," he agreed, "but why do I think that also means you didn't eat today?"

She looked over at him, shifting so she could look up to see his gaze, and half smiled. "I did eat, just don't ask me what or when because I don't remember."

He groaned. "Which really means that you probably didn't eat very much."

She shrugged. "Why do I have to eat very much, as long as I'm eating?… Isn't that enough?"

"Not necessarily," he replied. "If you're not eating sufficiently for your needs, then you'll be even colder."

"That's not fair. I get food down, so why does everybody have to panic about the amount?"

"Because you work in a high-stress field, where you need that energy at a moment's notice."

"Yeah, well… I haven't done any running or even my workouts lately," she muttered. "I feel so out of shape these days." Then she yawned again and curled up deeper against his chest, feeling his warmth seep into her soul. "Just thinking of coming up with some energy to do what I need to do right now is beyond me."

"What do you need to do?" he asked curiously, as he cuddled her close. She murmured an answer, but barely legible. He tilted her head back and kissed her. "You're not even talking clearly. Are you that tired?"

She nodded. "Just let me close my eyes for five minutes." And, with that, she soon fell asleep.

When she woke up, she was in the same position. Pushing back, she lifted up bleary eyes to stare around. "Did I really fall asleep?"

He smiled and nodded. "You really did."

"Christ," she muttered, as she collapsed back down again. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," he said. "I'm sad to see you so overworked."

"I don't even know what it was about today," she admitted, as she shifted. "I shouldn't be this overworked and this tired, but apparently I am anyway." She got up, walked to the bathroom, and quickly used the facilities. As she came back, he remained seated on the couch. She asked, "I don't suppose you ordered food while I was sleeping, did you?"

He burst out laughing. "As a matter of fact, I did." Just then the doorbell rang, and he got up and walked over to see Harry, holding out his food. "Hey, Harry, thanks so much." With a nod from the doorman, the elevator took him back down to his post.

Simon carried the food delivery into the kitchen and asked her, "How did you know I did that?"

"I didn't," she confessed, "but I was really hoping you did because, all of a sudden, I'm starving."

"It goes along with being cold and exhausted. You've also been on some crazy cases without too much of a break, and all of that will have an impact."

"Maybe." She yawned again. "But what was this about ghosts?"

He laughed at her. "Yeah, we were talking about that before you crashed."

She nodded and slumped down on a dining room chair. She felt his concern and waved it off. "I'm fine.… I just need to wake up."

" Uh-huh , you don't look fine."

She half smiled as she looked up at him. "But I don't look terrible , and the nap left me more on the groggy side than I expected," she shared. "Other than that, I'm feeling pretty good."

"If you say so," he muttered, but she could sense the caring in his gaze.

She smiled. "I didn't really think I would like being fussed over."

"You're getting there," he noted. "You're still quite a way from letting anybody actually fuss , but it's nice to see you not fight it as much."

She shrugged. "I think you wore me down. Besides, it's kind of nice."

"You still aren't ready to move in here with me?" When she stared at him in shock, he burst out laughing. "No, I'm not pushing."

"Oh, God," she mumbled, "that is definitely not on my horizon." She watched the wince come over his face and rushed to say, "At least not right now."

"Don't mind me. I brought it up in the spur of the moment. I didn't really mean to discuss that now."

"But you did mean to," she noted. "I'm just not… I'm not there yet."

"I got that," he replied, with a nod, "and, as always, your honesty is appreciated."

She saw his shoulders slumping, as if she had let him down in some terrible way, and she knew she had. The trouble was, she hadn't even really gotten comfortable living in her own skin. So the thought of being in a partnership and living with him was scary shit, and she just wasn't there yet. "Maybe I'll get there soon," she added, "I'm just…"

"I know." He held up his hand in peace. "We'll park this discussion for now. You're just not there yet."

She nodded. "I'm really not, but I feel bad now."

"Don't," he murmured, with a wave of his hand. "Again, I shouldn't have brought it up."

"Sure you should, if that's something you want." She frowned and added, "I don't even know what that would be like. "

"Just more of this," he noted. "It's not as if it would be stressful."

"And yet"—she looked around his penthouse—"it certainly would be a jump up in my lifestyle, but not in a way I'm comfortable with."

"I know. You prefer to visit but not necessarily live here."

She winced. "It's a really nice place," she admitted.

"And you do like what you can have from it, but I get it. You're not a person to be swayed by the things that I can offer."

"No… I'm really not, and, for some reason, that makes me feel terrible."

He burst out laughing. "You are very much you , and I don't want you to change," he declared, still chuckling.

She glared at him, not sure what she had missed, or if it was something not important and if she should just walk past it. However, sometimes people mentioned things that she didn't quite understand, and it always made her feel as if she was missing out on something major.

He leaned over, kissed her hard, and announced, "Food, let's get food."

"What kind is it?"

"Chinese. I was looking for vegetables."

"Egg rolls?" she asked, as she bounded over to the bag.

"Yes, egg rolls, all kinds of stuff." He brought out six containers, and she stared in surprise.

"Wow, were you hungry?"

"I'm hungry, but I also know, if you crashed as you did, that you were also hungry." He quickly dished up two plates and served them on the dining room table.

As they sat here eating, she eyed him curiously. "Tell me about the ghosts."

He chuckled. "I should have known that would be the part you would remember."

"Hey, I didn't get the rest of the story, so I'm not exactly sure what part of it was for real or not."

"I'm not sure if it's real either." He quickly told her about the property that he was looking at.

When he gave her the address, she thought for a moment and nodded. "That's been empty for a long time now."

"It has," he agreed. "That's one of the reasons I'm looking at doing something with it." When he mentioned the listing price, she stared at him in shock. He shrugged. "We're not settled on a price yet, so I'm hoping to get it for quite a bit less than that, but that's their current asking price."

"Jesus," she muttered, "not in a million lifetimes would I earn that much money."

"No, it's not exactly money anybody earns," he replied, with a chuckle. "It's one of those investments where you hope that you get your money back and that you don't kill yourself in the process."

She shook her head. "I would kill myself in the process, but you apparently do pretty well with your rehab projects."

"Sometimes," he stated, with a smile.

"Have you ever lost big money on one?"

"No, not big money, and the ones that I would say I've lost money on are pretty close to making the money back to cover the cost. Yet, at the moment, they just won't make much of a profit," he explained. "Those are the ones that I tend to operate more as rentals, so on a longer-term return."

She nodded and stared down at her food. He was talking figures so astronomical to her that it just didn't compute.

"Don't worry about the purchase price," he added. "A ton of money will then go into the rehab as well."

"That's the thing," she said, putting down her fork and staring at her empty plate. "Not only are you putting out money to buy these properties, but, with the condition they're in and the amount of work they need, that's just about the same money all over again."

"If not more," he added.

She shook her head. "This homeless guy told you there were ghosts, huh ?"

"Yeah, and they came out at night. More or less every night," he shared, pondering that. "I don't remember exactly how he phrased it, but I definitely got the impression that he had seen them on a regular basis."

"Sure, but is this guy on drugs, and just what kind of ghosts are we talking about? For all you know, it could be smugglers using the place or thieves using it as a hot spot to meet up and exchange stolen goods."

He looked at her in fascination. "I say ghosts , and all you think about is criminal activity ."

She shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? When you consider it, most of these places are being utilized for something along that line, particularly when they are as abandoned and as unloved as that one."

"Maybe that's what it is, and not ghosts after all," he conceded, with a shrug. "I won't really know until I go back there one night and take a closer look." She stared at him, but he nodded. "Of course I'll go. I just don't know when."

"Sure," she muttered, still feeling dazed. "I can't imagine."

"What about your case?"

"Yeah, I'm not so sure about it," she muttered, "but we need to talk about the Feldspar. "

"The Feldspar," he repeated, staring at her. "I know lots of properties, but that one isn't ringing a bell."

"That's the house you told me to not enter today, or at least related to that property," she pointed out, as she leaned forward to study his face. "You want to explain that one?"

He looked at her and sagged back, as if his energy drained from him in an instant. "No, I really don't."

*

No way Kate would let that go, even if Simon wanted her to, because she really did deserve some explanation. He just didn't have a whole lot of explanation to give.

"Look. I don't really know what that warning was all about. All I can tell you is that I felt an absolute panic this morning, and it had to do with you, and I knew that you were heading somewhere dangerous."

She nodded. "We didn't see any danger outside the house. Then we didn't have any reason to go into the building within a few minutes of your call because we'd been sent to the wrong address by mistake."

He stared at her in surprise. "Really?"

She nodded. "That has never happened to me before," she shared. "So we got back into the vehicle and headed to the correct address, but now I'm quite concerned about the property you told me not to enter, the Feldspar house."

"Did you look it up afterward or something?"

"I was talking to Smidge," she began, trying to make it casual, "and he knew the property because of some famous murder history to it."

"Of course." Simon groaned. "It could never be anything happy or nice."

She laughed. "I haven't had a chance to look it up yet, but the press called it the Feldspar murders at the time."

He sat back, picked up his glass of wine, and twirled it around, trying hard to get his brain to figure out what was looping back and forth in his mind, staying just out of reach. Then it hit him and hit him hard. "Oh, that's right," he said, sitting up straighter. "Three generations were shot. Maybe the brain-damaged sister was supposed to be killed. Then, yes, three generations were supposed to be murdered." She stared at him. "It's just coming back to me now. You didn't look it up yet?"

"No, I planned to do that tonight. I just never got there, what with the current case I am working on."

"You should do some research into it," he suggested, as he stared off in the distance. "Now that I recall, it's unsolved."

"I don't know about unsolved," she replied cautiously. "Just because the media didn't hear about it doesn't mean it hasn't been solved."

He gave her a wry look. "The way the media works these days, it means exactly that." He watched her concede the point. "Anyway, if you do find out something interesting," he suggested, taking a moment to collect himself, "I know the world would appreciate an update."

"I don't know about how I would get any update, since you're the one who told me not to go in the house," she stated crossly.

"For some reason that's upsetting to you."

"It's not upsetting me," she clarified, raising her hand in protest. "It's just that, at the time, I felt stupid listening to you blindly."

"Don't, please," he replied, raising a brow, "because I only had a few minutes to get you on the phone and to tell you that your life was in danger."

"And yet it was fine," she pointed out.

"Sure, because you listened to me and left," he stated, staring at her in growing frustration. "If I'm telling you to get out of a place, it means we have a problem."

"I know," she muttered, showing her palms in surrender. "Anyway, I may go back there tomorrow." He stared at her and swallowed hard, and she nodded. "I know you don't want me to, but… if something is going on there, I should find out. I have to go there."

"You mean, something along the ghost line?"

"Oh, I wasn't thinking it was a ghost sending me out of the house, but rather some real-life horror," she murmured.

"And that could be," Simon noted. "Let's hope I don't get the same sense of panic."

"Hopefully whatever happened there at the time of your warning won't continue to be a problem tomorrow."

He shrugged. "I don't think so. I certainly can't imagine that it wouldn't still be dangerous. If you think about it, already so much could be going on in that place that, just from an energetic standpoint, it'll be a nightmare."

"Yes, but I'm not concerned about the problems of energetic ghosts. I'm concerned about some neighbor kid entering the place and getting blown up or whatever," she pointed out. Then she laughed. "I'm much less worried about energetic ghosts . You do know how bizarre that sounds?"

"I know."

"Anyway, why don't we completely change the topic? I was wondering… how do you feel about going out on the boat this weekend?"

"That's a great idea. I am definitely ready to step back for a few days. Shall we plan to leave on Friday and maybe spend the weekend out there?"

She pondered that. "The only thing would be if work becomes an issue."

He frowned, but her work would always be an issue. Still, he nodded, yet his frustration remained evident on his face. "We'll just have to work around that, but let's try. If we can't get out of the harbor because you get called in on a case, then that's just the way it is."

"It's a problem, isn't it?" she asked softly.

"No, it's not. It's only a problem if we make it one, and, like you… I really want to get back out on the Running Mate. " He sighed. "I'll arrange food for the weekend, and, if nothing else, we can stay on her in the harbor."

"That would be lovely," she said warmly. Then she looked back at the remaining food on the counter and asked, "I don't suppose I could have seconds, huh ?"