Chapter 15

"So tell me what we're doing again?" Shamus asked, fighting to keep his thoughts on anything but that hot kiss he'd shared with Ralph.

The hottest damn kiss he'd had in probably ever. She fit against him like a missing piece of a puzzle, and he didn't know what to do about that.

He was attracted to her, no doubt. If that kiss was any indication, chemistry wasn't a problem, but it was wrong of him to indulge in her charms. She was in a precarious position right now. Her future was at stake. He needed to focus on that, and so did she.

But damn…that kiss.

"Hey! Ghost Talker! What the fuck are you doing? Pondering your damn existence? Christ on a crutch, pay attention." Nina slugged his shoulder—hard.

Jesus, she was strong.

Shamus shook his head, trying to clear it as he took deep breaths of the frigid night air. "Sorry. Let's go over this again, for posterity."

"Here's the plan," Wanda said, batting at snowflakes falling fast and heavy. "The news report said they'd found a possible lead on a suspect in Ralph's murder, but they didn't say much else. No pictures of the suspect, nothing. People who loved Ralph are outside, holding vigil, demanding answers. That means people inside are distracted."

As Ralph had watched the anchorman talk about her case, flash her picture up on Nina's enormous flat-screen TV, she'd remained unusually calm, if not surprised so many people loved her and wanted her killer brough to justice.

Shamus had to admire her grit—she'd watched the entire broadcast of her death without flinching. Ralph wasn't nearly as afraid as she thought. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to sit through the airing of his life and death without at least cringing.

Marty nodded, tightening her fluffy scarf and readjusting her matching furry hat. "Likely, the police have a file on this suspect, right? If that's true, maybe we can get a look at it, maybe Ralph can figure out if the suspect is the same person who nabbed her in Hell. Get some kind of information about who this is. It makes sense to at least see if Ralph recognizes anything about this person."

"Because even if it isn't the fuck who took her to Hell, whoever this shit is needs to be punished for taking her out and putting her through this crap," Nina spat, cracking her knuckles. "I'm happy to oblige.

"It makes no sense, though," Ralph pointed out. "If the person who murdered me is the person who dragged me to Hell, how did they even get to Hell if they're human?"

Wanda's lips thinned. "Maybe they're not human at all…"

Ralph nodded, and if possible, went paler than she already was. Shamus watched as she looked at all the familiar faces of children she'd taught, now grown, parents of children she'd taught and, of course, her biggest champion, Hazel.

He gripped her hand, hopefully letting her know he understood and supported her.

Ralph gripped his hand hard and said, "You make a good point, Wanda. I mean, you guys are all living your lives on this plane and you're only half-human. So let's say my killer/abductor isn't human, what could I possibly have that they want enough to murder me for?"

Nina kicked at the snow piles. "No fucking idea. What I do know is, if what George and Dex say is right, and the fuck nabbed you to get your powers, might even be draining your powers right now, keeping your ass from taking more good folks of the planet to the afterlife, keeping you from staying here on this plane, don't you wanna know who it is and what we have to do to stop him? The only way to do that is to get a look at who the police are looking at. You did get a glimpse of him when you were in Hell, right?"

Shamus remembered her saying so. She'd said it had been a brief glimpse before Darnell saved her, but it had been so brief.

"I definitely did. How could I forget a trip to Hell and the star of my recently acquired nightmare? But the glimpse of him was brief. It happened so fast, Nina."

"So if we get nothing else from this little field trip, if this suspect doesn't ring any bells, maybe we can at least eliminate a douchebag. Capisce?"

George and Dex had explained their theory, reminding them it was only a theory. As of now, no one in the afterlife knew Ralph's ghost existed. No one knew she'd died.

They thought maybe someone—someone malicious and bound for Hell—had stolen her place in the waiting room. And Ralph had somehow attached to an item in her store, which happened to be something from Nina's house, sending her there instead of where she was supposed to go.

Dex further deduced the asshole who'd stolen her place in the afterlife, her position as a psychopomp with all the trimmings, was somehow draining her of all her abilities.

It explained the reason she was transparent, yet could still occasionally feel things, like her heartbeat. It explained why she was so tired after stopping Gloria from crossing and helping Kat and Drucinda get to the other side.

If this was all true, it explained everything…and it meant this dick was going to ruin Ralph's afterlife for her, if he got her into Hell without anyone ever knowing she existed.

Ralph would be lost forever in the never-ending maze Darnell claimed was Hell. She'd suffer unknown tortures until they found her—if they ever did.

The fuck Shamus would let that happen to her. She'd earned that prestigious spot.

And this has nothing to do with how stupid attracted you are to her, does it, Shamus? Saving her from this freak has nothing to do with wanting to keep her here on this plane for your own selfish reasons?

Marty's voice roused him from his dark thoughts. "Hopefully, if we can connect the two—the suspect and the dick who took Ralph to Hell—we can pass that info on to Titus. You know, George and Dex's boss? Maybe he can use his Heavenly powers on this guy and take him out of commission so Ralph can take her rightful place. At least, that's the hope. If the police have some information, like his name, maybe even a picture, that can't hurt our cause."

"Right," Shamus said, looking up at the police station from where they all stood in the parking lot across the street, the brick structure looming in the heavily bruised sky.

Two officers stood outside monitoring, while a throng of people held up signs that read Justice for Ms. Tucci. They also held candles, pacing back and forth in the chilly air, chanting. Ralph's picture was plastered on one sign, her beautiful face beaming, her dark hair spilling down her back as she posed with one of her many first-grade classes.

She looked happy, fulfilled, surrounded by what made her happiest—the children.

"Look at how loved you are, Ralph," Wanda whispered.

Her voice sounded far away when she finally acknowledged what people were doing in her honor. But her smile was soft and fond. In fact, her beautiful face beamed.

"That was taken in nineteen ninety-four. To think some of those children are now off to college, maybe already in jobs I hope they love. It makes me smile."

"You should smile," Marty said with admiration. "Look at all those young minds you helped mold. And they all love you. What a wonderful legacy you've left, Ralph. Tell me you're proud of yourself, because we're proud of you."

A tear slid down her cheek. He watched it fall and drop to ground. "I'm proud of them…"

Shamus turned to Ralph, who appeared overwhelmed by the outpouring of love, grabbing her hand again. "Are you okay doing this? You have to do it invisible, but you don't have to do it at all if you don't want to."

He watched as she squared her shoulders and appeared to summon her resolve. "If I want to stay here on this plane, continue to live my life, help people cross into the afterlife, then heck yeah. I'm ready. Are you guys ready?"

Nina cracked her neck by rocking it from side to side. "I'm always ready. So let's get it the fuck on." Pointing at Wanda and Marty, she said, "You two flirt your flirty eyes and sweet talk those two cops watching the crowd like the saucy wenches you are. We'll slip inside and I'll mesmerize whoever's at the desk."

Ralph pinched her temples. "Wait. Mesmerize? I'm still not clear on how that works."

"You don't need to fucking know how it works, Glow Stick. It works, but I can only do it for a little while, so I gotta work fast. I'll find out who's handling the case. When I do, you and Ghost Talker get in there, find the dude's desk, and see what you can see while I keep the guy mesmerized."

"You know, you don't even have to go if you don't want to. I could just take a picture of the file and show you afterward," Shamus reminded her.

Ralph's look was skeptical as she tied her hair in a knot at the base of her skull, leaving wisps of it framing her face. "Is that taking charge of my life? Making decisions for my well-being? I can't let everyone else do all the work, Shamus. Besides, they can't see me. I'm the best person for the job." She glowed as the streetlight in the parking lot shined down on her.

"But you can't open drawers or flip through pages of a file, either. That has to be done by someone who can physically touch those items. That can easily be done by me, and I can use the camera on my phone to snap pictures."

Ralph planted her hands on her hips as she floated an inch or so above him, her flowing shirt, billowing. "So what's your point? You don't want me to actively participate in saving my hide? I'm going. The end."

He was doing it again. Trying to protect her, brace her for something that might further traumatize her—like seeing the picture of her body in a chalk outline. Which he knew would only create an issue between them.

"Then let's do this," he said, dousing Ralph with the invisibility dust before he tried to talk her out of it any further.

He had a bad feeling he couldn't quite define, so he kept his mouth shut as they all made their way across the street to mingle with the crowd.

Did he mention he had a bad feeling?

* * *

Nina approached the front desk of the police station where an officer sat behind Plexiglas. The precinct was quiet, the tiled entryway glossy, the only sound the hum of the computers.

Shamus tried to stay out of Nina's line of vision, hovering beside her while Ralph floated behind him.

The officer's eyes lit up as Nina sauntered toward him, planting her hands on the ledge outside the Plexiglas.

His smile was cheerful, his eyes scanning the vampire from head to toe but so obviously trying not to gawk at her evident beauty. "How can I help you, Miss?"

Nina read his nametag and smiled. "Officer Pizzoli, right?"

He nodded and returned her smile again, his pleasant face doughy, his eyes large and round. "That's me. How can I help?"

"Look at me," she demanded, without even a little lead-in.

Officer Pizzoli appeared confused as he leaned forward on his arms, gazing at her through the Plexiglas. "Excuse me?"

Nina leaned in, too, narrowing her gorgeous eyes. "I said, look at me."

Almost instantly, his hazel eyes, seated beneath bushy dark brows, glazed over. "Okay," he murmured from a slack mouth.

Nina waited a moment before she demanded, "Who's investigating Raphaela Tucci's murder?"

Officer Pizzoli hesitated.

Leaning even closer, until her face was almost against the barrier, she pressed harder. "I said, who's fucking investigating Raphaela Tucci's murder? Answer the question, buddy."

His face went blank, his words wooden. "Detective Lemanz."

Nina grinned and winked at him. "Good job, Officer Pizzoli. Where is he?"

Without so much as a blink, the officer answered, "It's a slow night. Most of the detectives have gone home for the evening."

Ralph let out a sigh. Lucky them.

Nina nodded, her eyes fixated on his face. "Where's the dude's desk?"

Officer Pizzoli pointed over his shoulder at the rows of empty desks without even looking back, his eyes dead. "Third row from the back. The one with the bobblehead of a hula dancer."

Nina's eyes never left his face, but she snickered. "Open the door to the detectives' pit. Please," she demanded.

"Okay." He tapped a button that buzzed, the doors releasing.

Without ever taking her eyes from the officer's, Nina pointed in the general area of the door. "You two go. Make it fucking snappy. You got like three more minutes before my mesmerizing goes to absolute shit."

Ralph, who'd watched in complete awe and fascination, hissed at Shamus, who was also was transfixed by Nina's mesmerizing process. "Hurry!" she hissed as she floated through the doors.

Shamus took quick strides, slipping through the doors and heading directly for Detective Lemanz's desk.

The room contained probably fifteen desks with doors leading to the sergeant's and lieutenant's offices. All of them neatly lined up.

There was a white board with pictures of suspects in other cases, and details about the people in the pictures and their connections to the crimes they'd allegedly committed.

While she looked around, Shamus wasted no time.

He began sifting through pile after pile of papers littering the Detective Lemanz's desk. She floated to him, peeking over his shoulder and fighting the urge to take a deeper whiff of his cologne.

Suddenly, she saw it. "There!" Ralph shouted. "That folder with my name on it. The one with the sketches of fruit on the front." Ralph paused, looking over the sketch. "Wow, he's pretty good, that's an amazingly realistic pineapple."

Shamus agreed as he held it up to show her. "Yeah. He's really good. Look at that kiwi, huh? The detail is amazing."

"Hey!" Nina yelped. "This isn't a fucking art class. Find what we need and let's get the fuck out."

Shamus dropped the file to the desk and opened it. As he'd feared, the first picture was of Ralph's body, sprawled on the floor of her store, a pool of blood underneath her shoulder.

To her credit, she didn't make a sound, but Shamus could have lived out his eternity not seeing this kind, compassionate, beautiful woman's dead body.

"You still okay?" Looking at her face, he searched her eyes to find any signs of distress.

"Hurry up and keep digging," she insisted with determination. "We don't have much time before we get caught!"

He continued to flip the pages of the file, skimming the preliminary autopsy report, the pictures of her wounds the coroner had taken.

"There!" she yelled in his ear, making him jump. "Stop there."

Shamus looked down at yet another picture, this time of a man, but she couldn't tell if it was who had grabbed her in Hell.

Then he found another photo—one of a dead man with shaggy, greasy dark hair, lying on a sidewalk, a stab wound in his neck.

"Appears the victim, Raphaela Tucci, fought back before she was shot? Suspect got away, but later died of internal injuries," Ralph whispered, her tone appalled, her eyes wide as she gripped the strands of her necklaces. "What?"

Shamus nodded, still stunned. "You fought back. It says here the pathologist claims the stab wounds the suspect suffered are from a utility knife with your fingerprints on it. They think you were using it to open packages. You fought back, Ralph. You fought back."

She'd killed someone? The horror of that made her stomach roll. "I…I killed him… I…" Words failed her. It left her distraught.

And then she saw the suspect's name. The name Drucinda had said before crossing.

Michael.