The Haunting of New York City – A Short Story

John Hunter was stunned as he stood in Times Square. This was not the New York City he remembered from his youth. Of course, that was over 150 years ago. John was a ‘young-old ghost’ as the spirit community liked to call ghosts that died young a long time ago. Most ghosts are “ancient-old ghosts”, having died at an old age a long time ago. John decided to make the best of his situation and to start haunting. Haunting a city was certainly more interesting that haunting a Civil War battlefield and with a hole in his head, John figured he could still provide a good scare. 

He waited until a group of people approached him on the sidewalk. They were walking with their heads down as if praying. No matter, John decided to scare the hell out of them. He waited until they were just a few feet in front of him and then he manifested himself and yell “boo.”

No one even noticed. The closest person walked right through him without stopping or even looking up. John decided he needed to up his game. When the next group of people approached him, he removed his head and threw it at the closest person. Nothing happened. His head sailed right through the person, bounced down the street and rolled down the steps of a subway entrance.
John, or at least his head, lay on the subway platform wondering how in the world he was going to find the rest of his body when he heard laughter. He glanced over and saw a young man, a young ghost really, laughing at him. Finally, the young ghost walked over and picked up John’s head and held up so they were eye to eye.

“What are you laughing at?” John asked, irritated.

“Why, you of course. Let’s go find your body.” The young ghost carried John’s head under his arm and up the stairs to the street level. John’s body wasn’t hard to find; pedestrians were oblivious to it. They walked through it, not even bothering to lift their feet. The young ghost lifted John’s body and placed his head squaring on his neck. John looked down at his body. His head was backwards. He reached up and turned his head around. Then he looked around, found his kepis cap and placed it on his head.

“Oh,” exclaimed the young ghost. “You’re a soldier.”

John snapped to attention and saluted. “Private John Hunter, 22nd New York Volunteer Infantry at your service.”

The young ghost stuck out his hand. “Please to meet you, John. My name is Eston Morschauser.”
John shook Eston’s hand. “You’re young like me.”

“Well, I died young just last year. I guess I’m a ‘recent-young’ ghost as they say.”

“Maybe you can tell me what’s going on,” John said. “I tried to scare these people but they just ignored me. They keep looking at their hands. What’s going on?”

Eston laughed. “You’re way behind the times. Where have you been?”

“I was killed during the Battle of Antietam in Maryland when a Confederate sniper shot me.”

“In the head, I presume.”

John raised his eyebrows. “Yes, how’d you know?”

Eston poked a finger through the hole in John’s head.

John laughed. “Yeah, lucky shot.”

“So, what have you been up to the last 150 plus years?” Eston asked.

“I stayed on the battlefield marching in solemn formations every night for visitors at the Antietam National Battlefield.”

Eston shook his head. “That must have been boring.”

“Not for the first one hundred years. To tell the truth, each time I thought maybe this time we’ll win. But it was the same results every time.”

Eston laughed. “So, you finally asked for a transfer?”

“Yeah. Now can you tell me what’s going on. I can’t seem to scare anyone.”

“That’s because everyone is looking at their iPhones; playing games, reading emails or sending pictures,” Eston answered.

“Wait, wait. An eye phone? What’s an eye phone?”

Eston smiled. “Not that kind of ‘eye’. It’s a communication device, like a telephone.”

John shook his head which would have fallen again if he hadn’t held on to it. “What’s a telephone?”
“Wow,” Eston answered. “What war were you in?”

“The Civil War. I was killed in Sharpsburg, Maryland, on September 17, 1862. A sniper shot me at the Sunken Road during the Battle of Antietam.”

“Wow,” Eston said. “So that’s what, over 150 years ago? There’s been a lot of progress since then. We haunt things differently now days. I’ll show you how.” Eston looked around. As the next guy passed, he entered through his back and snatched the iPhone out of his hands. He brought it over to John.  “This is an iPhone.” The man stopped and started looking for his iPhone. When he saw Eston talking to John, he screamed and ran away.

John took the iPhone and looked it over. “You said it was a communication device. Where are the wires? How does it work without wires?”

“It’s wireless. I don’t have time to bring you up to date on all the progress made in 150 years. You just have to accept what I tell you. Okay?”

John nodded. “Okay. What do I do now?”

“Good,” Eston said. “We haunt these things now I’ll show you how to enter the operating system and tell you the type of things you can do there.” Eston spent the next thirty minutes explaining how an iPhone works. Finally, he said. “Most of the apps on the iPhone are paid for by advertisements. These ads pop up here and there; some from the top down, some from the bottom up and some from the sides. They can be very annoying. To drive a person mad, just make ads pop up one after the other.”

John didn’t know what an ‘app’ was but decided to hold his question. “It’s that easy?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. You can also mess with their e-mails.”

This time he had to ask. “What’s an e-mail?

Eston smiled. “It means electronic mail. People use it to send messages to each other. All you do is mess with the addresses. Just change the address to someone else. If the message says something intimate, send it to everyone in their address book. I once sent a bunch of emails from Hillary Clinton to the WikiLeaks.”

“I don’t know who those people are.”

Eston smiled, “That bring me to sexting.”

“What’s that?”

Eston smiled even wider. “Sexting means taking a naked picture or picture of one’s privates and sending it to a boy or girlfriend.”

“Good. I’m a private. Take my picture.”

Eston laughed. Not that kind of private. It’s a picture of your… you know… your thing.”

John blushed. “I would never do that.”

“Not your thing. People…live people do that.” Eston saw that this news puzzled John. “Don’t ask me why, they just do and we can haunt that.”

“How do I do that?” John asked.

“Simple. Whenever you see someone sexting, you change the address to someone else. I like to use a parent, if I know it, but just about anyone will do.”

“And that works?”

“Oh, yeah,” answered Eston. “You should see what I did to Anthony Weiner. But the best haunting is with selfies.”

“What are selfies?” John asked.

“People now days, especially, young ones, like to take pictures of themselves alone or with someone and send to other people. When you see that they’re about to take a selfie, you jump into the background and manifest yourself in true ghostly fashion. We call it photobombing, and it will freak them out.”

John had seen only one camera in his entire life, but at least he knew what a photograph was. “Anything else?” he asked.

“Are you kidding? There are a million ways to possess a cellphone. One of my favorites uses the GPS.”

John sighed. “And what, pray tell is a ‘GPS’?”

“It stands for Global Positioning System. It uses satellites to triangulate the position of a cellphone.”
John had no idea what ‘satellites’ were or what it meant to’ triangulate’, but he was overwhelmed and let it pass. “So, what do you do to the GPS?”

“Whenever someone asks for directions, you change them. You know, send them the wrong way on a one-way street or take them miles out of the way. It drives people crazy.”

“Anything else? I can’t handle much more.”

“Okay, one more and you’ll love it. Some cellphones use artificial intelligence and an artificial voice. People can talk to them and they talk back. Two popular ones are Siri and Cortana. All you do is take over the voice and talk in a creepy, voice and maybe with a hideous laugh. It will freak people out.”
John laughed. “Now I like that. I’ll try it.”

“Well, that’s enough for now. That’s the basics. “Oh, before I forget, today is Friday the 13th. All the ghosts in the city get together and ride the subways all night. I’ll come to get you after sundown. Happy haunting and welcome to New York City”

John said, “Thanks.”
​
THE END

Jen thank the woman and went to apartment 14. She planned to use the same strategy as she used with Jimmy’s wife. When the woman answered the door, Jen said, “Hello, my name is Mary Smith and I live in this building. I wonder if you have seen my cat.”  Jen held out a flier with the picture of a cat that she had downloaded from the internet. “She ran way and hasn’t come home. I open the door to bring in groceries and she ran out.
The woman took the flier and looked at it.

“I’m afraid not. You’re not supposed to have pet in this building.”

“I know, that’s way I’m not posting any signs. I’m hoping someone took her in. I hope no one reports me.”

“Come on in,” the woman said. The woman. “My name id Chang Ying. I was about to have some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“Yes, please,” Jen answered as she was ushered into the dining room. The luxury of the interior matched the luxury of the exterior of the apartments. “You have a nice apartment. Have you lived here long?”

“No, only a few weeks,” came the reply from the kitchen. Jen looked around the room, hoping to find a glimpse of Charlize’s laptop-no such luck. Chang Ying returned with a tray with a tea pot, two cups and sugar.

“You speak English so well,” Jen said. “I detect an accent, but I can’t tell from where.”

Chang Ying chuckled. “I’m from Singapore. English is our official language.”

“What brought you to the USA, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Chang Ying grinned and held up her left hand to reveal an expensive ring. “I’m getting married.”
“Congratulations,” Jen said. “How did you two meet?”

Chang Ying chuckled and sat back in her chair. “My fiancé doesn’t like me to tell the story, but we met online. I signed up with an agency that connects women with American men. We started talking, and Jimmy invited me here. After a couple of weeks, he proposed. We’re going to Las Vegas in two weeks to get married.”

“Oh, that’s exciting.” Jen said. “You’ll love that. What is your husband’s name?”

“His name is Jimmy Rich,” Chang Ying replied.

“What does he do for a living?”

“He’s a political consultant. In fact, he’s in Washington consulting a candidate for the Senate. He goes there every Monday and returns on Fridays. After the elections, he’ll move in here with me.”
“Wow,” Jen said. “Who is he consulting?”

“He won’t tell me. He says it’s all about timing. He’ll announce it at the right time.”
​
Jen and Chang Ying made small talk for a while and then Jen left the same way she came in through the garage.

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 50k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 14

Jen monitored Jimmy’s moment on her computer with the tracking software. A pattern was clear; Jimmy spent the weekdays with his family and weekends with his fiancé. He always went to work on weekdays and drove around Atlanta showing potential buyers houses. On Fridays he would switch to the BMW and go to the luxury apartments to stay through the weekend. Of coursed now he was married to Chang Ying. On Monday mornings he would switch to the Honda on the way to work and then go home to his family that night. Using similar names like Richards and Richardson made it easier to keep things straight.

By Thursday, Jen was ready to pay visit to Mrs. Richardson. First, she made sure Jimmy was busy with a buyer and wouldn’t drop in at home. This time Jen was prepared. She wore her blades and brought some fliers she had made. Now that she knew where Jimmy lived, she could park closer. She arrived at Jimmy’s front door and knocked. A pretty, Caucasian woman about Jimmy’s age answered the door with two kids in tow.

“Hello,” Jen said. “My name is Mary Smith and I live a couple blocks down the street. I wonder if you have seen my cat.”  Jen held out a flier with the picture of a cat that she had downloaded from the internet. “She ran way and hasn’t come home. I’m post these fliers and knocking on doors hoping that someone has seen her.”

The woman took the flier and looked at it. “I’m afraid not. There aren’t many cats in the neighborhood.” She started to close the door.

Jen stopped her. “I wonder if I could get a glass of water, please. I’ve been walking around all morning and I forgot to bring water.”

The woman opened the door wider and motioned for Jen to come in. “Please sit down and I’ll get you some water. I think I have a bottle I can give you.”

A few minutes later, the woman came back with a bottle of water and handed it to Jen. “Thanks,” Jen said, “Mrs…”

“Lourie,” the woman said. My name is Lourie Richardson.”

“Is your husband home? Perhaps he’s seen my cat.”

“No, he’s at work. He’s in real estate. I doubt he’d notice a cat around here. He works every day.”
“Every day?” Jen asked.

“Yes,” Lourie answered. “He shows buyers around during the week and on weekend he teaches a real estate class in Savannah.”

“Savannah?” Jen asked.

“Yes,” Lourie replied. “In order to become real estate agents, people must complete a 75 hours course online. Then they must pass an exam before they can apply for a license. Jimmy drives to Savannah every weekend to teach a review before people take the exam. His company pays for a hotel, so Jimmy stays in Savannah for the weekend.”

Clever, Jen thought. She thanked Lourie for the water and left. She knew Jimmy would go to the apartment where his fiancé lives after work on Friday. She decided to follow him and find out where his fiancé lives. She waited until 4 pm and drove over to the apartment building. She hid near the garage and waited for someone to enter. When they did, she snuck inside and found a spot not covered by security cameras and waited. She monitored Jimmy’s movements on her laptop. When he arrived, he parked in his designated parking spot and walked over to the elevator. When he entered the elevator and the doors closed, Jen rushed over to the elevator. The signal at the top indicated that Jimmy exited at the eleventh floor. That’s all she could do for now, so she went home.

On Monday, Jen knew Jimmy would head to work and then go home that night to Lourie. She thought it would be a good time to pay a visit with Jimmy’s fiancé. She got there early when she knew people would be leaving the building for work. That made it easy to sneak inside the garage. She took the elevator to the eleventh floor. Once there, she saw what she was looking for--a housekeeper. “Excuse me,” Jen interrupted her work. I’m looking for a woman that I was supposed to meet here. I know she lives on this floor, but I forgot her apartment number. Perhaps you know her. She’s Chinese. Sorry, but I don’t know her name.”
​
“Oh,” said the housekeeper. “You must mean Ms. Li. She’s the only Chinese person in the building. She lives in apartment 14.”

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 50k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 13

The next day, Jen drove Molly to the police station so she could give her statement on what happened in the courtroom. They were a block from the station when they were stopped by a police barrier manned by two officers. Jen stopped and rolled down her window as one officer approached the car.

“What’s going on officer?” Jen asked.

“There’s a Black Live Matter protest in front of the station,” she answered. “Where are you going?”

“We’re headed for the station,” Jen answered.

“You’ll have to go in the back entrance,” the officer replied. “Do you know how to get there?”
“Yeah,” Jen answered. “I used to work there.”

While Jen was talking, Molly was looking at the crowd of protestors. “Jen, is that the Jones standing on the sidewalk behind the protestors?” she asked.

Jen looked where Molly indicated. “I think you’re right.”

Suddenly, Molly yelled, “What the fuck?” and jumped out of the car. Jen moved the car to the side of the road and tried to catch Molly. Molly ran up to Hannah and Oni Jones. Six-year old Cleo stood in front of them. “Is Grandma Anna with you?” she half shouted. All three pointed at the protestors. There was Anna. She had locked arms with a line of other older women and stood between the protestors and police.

Molly ran over to Anna with Jen right behind her. “Anna, you can’t do this. You’re too old to be demonstrating. You’ll get hurt.” The Jones also walked over.

Anna looked Molly in the eye. “Bull shit. This ain’t my first rodeo. Enough is enough.”
“What kind of example are you setting for Cleo?” Hannah asked.

“The right kind,” Anna shot back. “In fact, I’ll do one better.” Anna unlocked her arms from the other protesters and began to take off her clothes.

“No, no, Anna,” Molly shouted. “Don’t do this.”

“Somebody got to do it,” Anna replied. “Maybe a naked old lady will make the evening news.”

After a minute, there she stood--naked except for her shoes. The Jones made an effort to cover her exposed body, but Anna pushed them away. Then Cleo began to get undressed. “What are you doing, dear?” Hannah asked Cleo.

“Grandma is right,” Cleo answered. “I’m going to join her.”

Molly grabbed Anna’s arms. “Anna, do something. You can’t let Cleo get naked too. There’re too many perverts around here.” Anna didn’t say anything. “Okay, okay,” Molly said. “I’ll take your place. You take Cleo to the back and stay out of the line of fire.” Before anna could protest, Molly locked arms with the women on either side of Anna. She looked at Jen. “Well, are you going to just stand there or are you going to join us?”

Jen was torn. “Molly, I’m a police officer. How will it look?”

“It will look like you want justice,” Molly answered.
​
Jen stepped in next to Molly and locked arms. The Jones took Cleo toward the rear where it was somewhat safer. Jen expected to get an ear full about protesting in front of the station when Jonah returned home that night. To her surprise, Jonah said nothing. She was thankful for that. 

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 50k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 12 (Cont.)

“Okay,” Molly said, hiding her disappointment. “That mean we’re looking for another woman who had the motive to kill Ken. Maybe the crime lab will get some DNA from it. We’ll wait and see.”

After Kiera left, Molly said to Jen, “Well, that was a big disappointment. Maybe she’s telling the truth. “By the way, Ken has his first court appearance tomorrow. Care to come with me. I’ve never been in court before. When the judge comes it, do we bow or genuflect?”

Jen laughed. “Do you know what’s going to happen?” Molly shook her head. “For this first appearance, they’ll bring Ken in with his lawyer. It’s rather routine. It’s usually a lower court. The judge will inform Ken of the charges and explain his rights. Normally, bail is set, but in this case I doubt there will be any bail or one that he can afford.”

Jen and Molly arrived at the courthouse early so they could get a front row seat near the defense table. Kiera arrive shortly later and sat next to Molly right behind the defense table. At the appointed time, two police guards arrived escorting Ken in shackles. Ken nodded at Kiera and sat down at the table. His lawyer sat next to him. A few minutes later, the court clerk and bailiff entered and remained standing. A minute later, the judge entered, and the bailiff announced, “All Rise. Court is now in session. Judge Paquet presiding.”

As everyone stood up, Kiera pulled out a knife and yelled, “You cheating bastard.” She then reached over the railing and stabbed Ken in the back. Ken yelled as the bailiff, and the guards rushed over. Kiera raised her knife to stab Ken again, but before she could, Molly grabbed her by the collar of her coat and pulled her back into her seat. Ken’s lawyer grabbed Kiera’s knife hand as the police guards subdued her. It was over in seconds. One of the guards lowered Ken face down onto the floor as the bailiff called 911. Kiera was taken out in handcuffs. Ken was taken to the ER along with his guards.
Later that afternoon, Jonah walked into Jen and Molly’s office. Molly immediately stood up. “I swear, Jonah,” she stammered. “I never meant for that to happen. I didn’t think for one second she’d try to kill Ken.”

Jonah laughed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, so save it for your disposition.”
“What?” Molly asked. “What are you doing here?”

Jonah chuckled. “What a day huh? I came to tell you to come by the station tomorrow and give us a statement. You’re one of several witnesses. By the way, you saved Mr. Rice’s life when you pulled Kiera back. Congratulations.”

“I just reacted,” Molly said. “How is Ken Rice?”

“He’ll live. The knife puncture one lung but missed any other vital organs. Of course, we may have to reschedule his court appearances.”

“How did Kiera get a knife into the court room?” Jen asked. “They have metal detectors.”

“That’s the funny part,” Jonah answered. “It was a plastic knife. It’s a wonder it didn’t snap in two.”
“What about Kiera?” Jen asked.

“Oh, didn’t you hear?” asked Jonah. “She confessed. She took a plea bargain. The DA won’t charge her in Sandra Rice’s murder if she testifies against Ken. She will still face charges for attempted murder. She and Mr. Rice planned the murder of his wife for the insurance, so they could be together. We have him now. There’s no way he’ll get out of this. I expect he’ll confess too. Nice job Molly.”

After Jonah left, Jen turned to Molly. “Way to go. You first case and you managed to get your client arrested for attempted murder. Don’t expect to get paid.”
​
Molly started laughing and couldn’t stop. Every time she looked at Jen, she would start laughing all over again. This went on for fifteen minutes.

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 49k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 12 (Cont.)

Molly picked up a stack of paper from the printer. “Ken and Kiera were together in Tampa in May. I scrolled through Kiera’s social media pages and she posted several pictures of herself in Tampa. She even wrote how beautiful it was. However, she didn’t mention Ken. Marty found out that Ken was there at the same time.”

Marty took the cue. “Affirmative. I checked the AFE website…”

“AFE?” Jen interrupted to ask.

“Sorry,” Marty said. “The Association for Facility Engineering. Their annual conference was held in Tampa at the same time. That’s when Ken got certified as a Facility Engineer. AFE posted a list and even a picture of all the candidates. Ken was in the picture.”

“They were smart enough not to stay at a hotel near the convention center,” Molly added. “but what are the odds. You know they slept together.”

“We’ll still need proof,” Jen added.

“I know,” Molly replied. “I already talked to Jonah. He said the case is still open and if they hooked up in Florida, that could be proof of motive. That’s all he needs to get a warrant to pull Kiera’s credit card history and telephone records. He called the hotel and confirmed that Kiera stayed there. He can get video confirmation. Ken had a room at the hotel by the convention center, but odds are he never slept there. We got her, Jen. I was right--the bitch lied to us. She never ended the affair with Ken.”

“Wow,” Jen exclaimed. “Now what?”

“I don’t know,” Molly answered. “I guess we wait for confirmation from Jonah. What did you find out about the mysterious Mr. Richard or Richardson?”

“I think his real name is Richardson,” Jen answered. “He has a family in the suburbs, a wife and two kids. He also engaged to a Asian woman.”

“What the fuck?” Molly said then glanced at Marty who scowled back. “That cheating bastard. What about Biyu?”

“No sign of her yet,” Jen replied. “No sign of her, but his fiancé isn’t Biyu. It appears he spends the week with his real family and the weekends with his new girlfriend. And get this… He met her through an agency that connects American men with Asian brides. I think that’s how he met Biyu.”

“Now what?” Marty asked.

“I plan to pay a visit with Mrs. Richardson,” Jen answered, “and the new girlfriend.” Just then a timer on Molly’s desk went off. “What’s that for?” Jen asked.

Molly jumped up. “I have brownies in the oven. Time to take them out.”

“You baked brownies?” Jen said, surprised. She had never known Molly to bake anything. A quick look from Molly told her not to question it. She glanced at Marty.

“I like brownies,” he said.

After Molly dashed out of the room. Jen walked over to Marty who stood up smiling. “Listen, Marty, Molly is my best friend in the whole world.” She poked Marty in the chest. “If you hurt her, I. Will. Shoot. You. In. Your. Good. Leg… Understand?”

The smile left Marty’s face. “Roger that,” he replied. “I would never hurt Molly. We just met. We’ve been dating for what” …One week? She told me what she has been through. I would never cause her any pain.”

“Just see that you don’t.”

“Don’t what?” Molly asked as she walked into the room with a plate of brownies still warm from the oven.

Jen turned around, “We’re just talking.” Jen had never seen this side of Molly. Of course, they never double dated or were around other guys except for Jen’s boys. Jen figured that that Molly was definitely flirting and wooing Marty. She had never seen Molly bake anything much less offer to bake. Jen decided that the less she said the better or she’d have to answer to Molly later. Jen had to admit that the brownies were good, and Marty scarfed down half the plate.

The next day Molly told Jen she had an idea on how to trick Kiera into confessing that her affair with Ken never ended. She showed Jen a photograph. It was of a clear plastic evidence bag. Inside the bag was a red thong and bra.

“Is this for real?” Jen asked. “That thong and panties sorta looked like mine.”

Molly laughed “I was pressed for time. I’ll buy you a new pair. I stole the evidence bag from Jonah.”

Jen laughed. “Remind me to lock my bedroom door. So, how do you see this going down?”

“I’ll show this picture to Kiera and say that a contact in homicide took then picture and gave it to me. I’ll ask if they’re hers. If she says yes, I’ll know she’s lying; trying to cover for Ken. I’m hoping she’ll confess to continuing the affair with Ken.”

“And if she says they aren’t hers?” Jen asked.

“Then I guess she’s telling the truth. I set up a meeting with her for this afternoon. Can you stick around as a witness?”

“Will you tell her you know that she hooked up with Ken in Tampa?”

“I’m not sure how to handle that. Let’s see what happens this afternoon.”

Jen agreed to hang around. When Kiera arrived, Molly showed her the photograph. “I asked a friend in homicide if there was any unusual evidence that indicated Ken was having an affair. He gave me this. It’s picture of a thong and bra. Are they yours?”

Kiera looked at the picture and turned it around a couple of times. “It’s hard to tell, but they’re not mine. Not my color.” Kiera showed little emotion.

Molly had hoped for a confession. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Kiera answered. “I told you Ken might being having an affair. He’s quite the playboy. 

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 47k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 12

On Friday, Jen decide to follow the elusive Jimmy Richardson. She knew by now that he always checked his post office box after work on Fridays. She parked in a spot where she had a good view of the entrance to the post office. Short after 4:30 pm, Jimmy showed up. Jen thought it would be best if she relied on the GPS tracker she planted on his cars rather than risk being spotted tailing him. After a short time, the tracking software indicated that Jimmy’s BMW was moving. Jen followed at a safe distance. She already had the address where he was heading from Charlize.

Jimmy drove up to a luxury apartment building and entered the underground parking. Jen decided that she could monitor the tracker from her office, so she headed back. Just after sunset, an alarm on her software told her that Jimmy was on the move. When the tracker showed that Jimmy had parked, Jen found the address. It was a nice restaurant downtown. She grabbed her camera and headed downtown.

Jen found the restaurant and used valent parking for her car. She decided against taking her camera inside the restaurant; too conspicuous. Once inside, she told the maître d, “I’m looking for a guy named Richardson.” The maître d looked puzzled and shook his head. “His wife is oriental,” she added.

“I think you mean Mr. Richards,” the maître d said. “He’s here with his fiancé. Shall I take you to his table?”

“No,” Jen replied. “I can find them.” She entered the dining room. Once inside the dining room, it wasn’t difficult to find Jimmy and his date, a young Asian woman, but definitely not Biyu. Jen took out her cellphone and snapped a picture while pretending to take a picture of another group. Jen left by a side exit.

Monday morning, Jen’s software told her that Jimmy was driving the BMW. Jen figured he would drive to the garage, switch cars and head to work. Thirty minutes later, her trackers told her that’s exactly what he did. The tracker indicated he was now at work. Jen decided to check out his office. Before lunch he drove to the real estate agency where Jimmy worked. She parked across the street and waited. She didn’t have to wait long. Jimmy walked out, got in his car and drove off.
Jen took that moment to check out Jimmy’s place of employment to see what she could find out. She walked in and was greeted in the lobby by an elderly woman sitting at a desk. “May I help you?” the woman asked.

“I’m looking for Mr. Jimmy Richardson,” Jen answered, using Jimmy’s real name.

“I sorry,” said the woman. “He’s with a client at the moment, and I don’t expect him back for some time. Can I make an appointment for you, or would you like to see one of our other agents?”

“No,” Jen answered. “That’s alright. I’ll just call him. Can I have his card?”

The woman removed a card from a holder and handed it to Jen. “Can I tell him your name?”

Jen put the card in her purse. “No thanks. I’ll just call him.” Jen left. Now she knew Jimmy’s real name was Richardson and not Richards.

Later that afternoon, Jen’s tracker indicated that Jimmy was leaving work in his Honda. To Jen’s surprise, he drove to the suburbs. When the tracker stopped moving, Jen located the address and headed out. The address was in an upscale Atlanta suburb. It was a gated community and a card key was required to gain entrance. Jen noted that there was no wall around the perimeter of the neighborhood. She parked nearby, found a way inside and walked to the address. By the time she arrived across the street from the address, she was worn out from walking. She wished she had worn her blades today.

The house looked like a typical upscale home for the neighborhood: two-car garage, fenced in backyard and well-kept yard with flowers and nice bushes under the windows. Jen thought if she used her camera, it would cause suspicion, and she could just stand around and stare at the house. She sat down on the curb and pretended to adjust her prosthetics. After a few minutes she saw a Caucasian woman through the front living room window. She was soon followed by two young children and then by Jimmy Richardson. Apparently, Jen concluded, Jimmy has a real family here, and is having an affair with a Chinese woman.

When Jen arrived at her home office, she was surprised to find Molly and Marty both there. “What’s going on?” she asked. Before Molly could answer, Jen walked over and offered her hand to Marty. “You must be William,” Jen said with a grin. “Molly has told me so much about you.”

Marty laughed. “It won’t work. Molly warned me about you. I’m Marty. We met last Friday at the VFW.”

Molly glared at Jen. “Not funny,” she said. Then she changed her tone and said, “Marty came over to help me do some research. We found out some things about Ken and Kiera”

Jen laughed at her weak attempt to embarrass Molly. She glanced down on Molly’s desk, and there was a dish of M&M’s. Pointing at the dish, she said, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Molly smile. “What? Our expensive monogrammed candy? It was your idea. I got you some too. I think yours are the ones with peanuts.”

Jen waited as Marty moved his stuff from Jen desk over to a coffee table. “I’ve found out some interesting things about my Mr. Richardson too,” Jen said.

“Richardson?” Molly asked. “I thought his name was Richard.”
​
Molly chuckled. “Well, it is, and it isn’t. I’ll tell you all about it, but you go first. What did you discover?”

The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 46k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 11

Prada slept in bed with Jen, squeezed in between her and Doc with Jonah on the other side of Jen. It was a bit crowded, but Jen thought it was sweet of the boys to let Prada share the bed. The next morning, Jen got up and gave Prada some kibble for breakfast. Prada turned up her nose at the kibble. Jen then made a cheese omelet with bacon for herself. She left the omelet on the table as she made herself a cup of coffee. When she turned around, the omelet was gone. She looked at Prada’s bowl. She hadn’t touched the kibble.

“WTF? Young lady,” she half shouted at Prada. “Did you eat my omelet?” Prada tried to look innocent, but the bacon and cheese on her lips gave her away. Jen just laughed and made another omelet and bacon.

As she was cooking, Molly came to the office to get Prada. Jen noticed she was wearing the same clothes she wore last night. “Prada’s good,” Jen said. “We just had omelets and bacon. Prada turned up her nose at the kibble.”

“Damn, Aunt Jen,” Molly complained. “You’ve spoiled her. I have to give her some meds, and I’ll take her home.”

Jen grinned. “So, you stayed all night with Marty? How was it?”

Molly smiled. “It was great.”

Jen chuckled. “Come on girl, I want details. Spill.”

Molly stopped smiling. “When have you ever shared any details about your sex life?”

Jen could see that she offended Molly. “That’s different. We’re in a committed relationship.”

Molly put her hands on her hips. “And what am I, your neighborhood whore?”

Jen walked over to Molly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that at all. I don’t want to fight with you over some guy. You must really like Marty.”

Molly relaxed. “Yeah. Jen, I think he might be the one. We talked all night.”

Jen chuckled. “You mean you didn’t tear each other’s clothes off as soon as you got inside his place and have sex like they do in the movies?”

It was Molly’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, we did that except it takes longer with a prothesis. That was a first for me.”

“Oh?” Jen chuckled. “I didn’t know you were a virgin.”

Molly shot a rubber band at Jen. “Very funny. I meant that I had never had sex with a one-legged man.”

“But you managed somehow,” Jen suggested.

“We managed,” Molly answered smiling.

“So, what’s he like?” Jen asked.

“Well, he has an engineering degree from Georgia University…”

“Georgia Tech,” Jen corrected.

“What?” Molly asked.

“His degree is from Georgia Tech, not Georgia University—two different schools.”

“So,” Molly said, a little pissed. “you checked him out already?”

Jen realized she screwed up. “Sorry, but I was worry about you. You left with a guy you just met and spent the night with him. What else about him?”

Molly sat down. “I don’t know how much you know, but he was born and raised here in Atlanta. He’s enrolled in the graduate program for his master’s in engineering. He’s real smart. He lost his leg in Afghanistan.”

“IED?” Jen asked.

“No, sniper.” Molly answered. “He doesn’t have much PTSD like we do. His is a mild case.”

Jed and Molly talked about Marty for a few more minutes. Finally, Jen asked, “Will you go out with him again?”

“Are you kidding?” Molly answered. “We’re going dancing again this Friday. I’m telling you, Marty might be the one. That reminds me, he said something that got me thinking. I told him about the case we’re working on for Kiera. He said to me that we’re looking for “reasonable doubts”. I asked what he meant by that and he said in a murder trial in Georgia, all twelve jurors must agree beyond a reasonable doubt that the defendant is guilty.”

Molly let that thought sink in. “I think that Kiera isn’t asking us to find who killed Sandra. I think she wants us to find reasonable doubt that he may not have killed his wife.”

Jen was a little puzzled. “So?”

“I think she’s playing us.”

“What?” Jen replied. “Why?”

Molly stood up. “Bear with me for a minute. Suppose that Kiera and Ken never ended their affair? Maybe they planned to kill Sandra. They just cooled their affair because they knew the police would discover it. That may explain why Sandra was stabbed only once. More stab wounds would indicate a crime of passion and implicate Ken.”

“But why?” Jen asked again.

“So, Keira and Ken could get married. Don’t forget, the police report said there was a million-dollar life insurance police on Sandra that was purchase six months prior to her murder. Excellent motive if you ask me.”

“Okay, I might buy that theory,” Jen replied. “but you have to prove it. How are you going to do that?”
​
Molly shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know… yet.” Molly removed Prada’s meds from her purse and walked over to Prada. Prada started to whine and tried to move away, but she couldn’t move fast enough without her harness and wheels. Molly caught her and gave her the pills.

I’m a little late posting today. The following is another excerpt from my work in progress, The Throuple Private Eye—Business is Booming, a Jen McDowell Series. This is the second draft. I’m at 43k words now. If you want to catch up, order the novella The Throuple Private Eye—Hate Crimes, on Amazon ($2.99). The link is https://www.amazon.com/dp/B084LTTHGN. Enjoy.

CHAPTER 10 (cont.)
 
“We’re going to call it a night,” Molly said. She kissed Jen on the cheek and left with Marty. On the way out, Molly turned and winked at Jen. Navada sat down to talk with Jen. Jen thought he was very charming. She felt as if he was just being polite and keeping her company.

As long as they had food or drinks, they could take off their facemasks. Navada got up and returned with a plate full of French fries for them to nibble on. He then when over to the bar a returned with two beers. Jen kept a close on the beers as the bartender filled the glasses. It was habit she developed on the police force. A girl can’t be too careful.

When they both removed their facemasks, Jen got a good look at Navada. She already had noticed his piercing blue eyes. Now she saw his eye lashes. He had beautiful, long eyelashes; the kind that a woman would kill to have. He also had a beautiful smile. He explained how he was Marty’s best friend and roommate from Georgia Tech. They also took ROTC together. When they were commissioned, he was commissioned in the Infantry while Marty, with his high GPA was commissioned in the Engineers. Navada was still on active duty, stationed at Fort Stewart, in Savanna, Georgia with the 188th Infantry Brigade.

Jen couldn’t take her eyes off his eyes. On his part, he held her gaze while talking. Despite herself, she was attracted to him. She decided she should slow down her drinking. She was two beers short of going home with him. She started nursing her beer. As Navada talked, Jen played with her hair—twisting and twirling it. Eventually, she moved her fingers down to the top button of her shirt and fiddled with it. She fantasized a little. He was funny. He made her laugh ever few minutes.

Soon she was convinced that Navada was flirting with her. She also realized that she was flirting with him. On the one hand she felt guilty because she had two live in boyfriends at home. She felt like she was cheating even though everything was innocent enough. On the other hand, she was excited to find out she could still attract a hot male like Navada. After she lost her legs, she thought no guy would be interested in her, Doc was an exception.

At one point, Navada lightly touched her arm. He pulled his hand back quickly and apologized. Jen liked it. She had noticed his arms earlier. He obviously worked out and was in good shape. She imagined that he had six pack abs. Finally, the bartender called last call. It was time to go. Jen said good night and started toward the door. Navada followed. Once outside, Jen stopped. “My car is just over there,” she said as she pointed.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” Navada said.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Jen said. Truth is, she didn’t trust herself not to jump into bed with him. “Listen, Navada,” she started to explain. “You’re a nice guy and all, but I’m in a committed relationship. Let’s not start something we can’t finish.” It didn’t sound like herself.“Oh, I see,” Navada said. “I understand. I was just being polite. Can I kiss you goodnight?”Jen shook her head. “Like I said, let’s not start something.” She turned and walked away. On the drive home, she kept kicking herself. Afterall, she thought. One hook up wouldn’t  hurt would it? Jen already knew the answer to her question. She began to review her conversation with Navada. The entire time she talked to him, he never once looked at another woman. Lord knows there were plenty of hot woman there with two good legs, she thought. So, what does that make him? Is he gay? A trans? A captain in the infantry—not likely. So, what is it? Maybe he’s a sociopath, or a serial killer. Nobody’s perfect.Something else seems a little off to her. She felt the same about Marty. Then it struck her. Navada and Marty were born and raised in Atlanta and yet hardly had an accent. She knew from her experience on the police force, that most people in Atlanta don’t have a distinct Southern accent. The accent is more Midland. In these guy’s case, Jen figured after four years college and a few years in the Army where everyone from all the over country are thrown together, the guys lost most of their accent. They hardly ever dropped a ‘fixing to’ or a ‘y’all’.

​Later that night, as Jen was working late in her office, Molly texted her. Attached to her text was a selfie of Molly grinning with Marty in the background removing his artificial leg. The picture wasn’t too clear, but Jen was certain that Marty was naked. Now she regretted not kissing Navada.
Jen decided to do a background check on Marty. It was easy enough to find information on him. He was searching for work, so he had a large social media presence. After a few clicks, Jen found what she was looking for.

Marty earned a BS in engineering from Georgia Institute of Technology, also known as Georgia Tech, here in Atlanta. He had a full ROTC scholarship and was commissioned a lieutenant in the infantry upon graduation. He served one tour in Iraq and was wounded twice. He later volunteered for a tour in Afghanistan where he was seriously wounded and lost his leg. He was awarded the silver star for his actions. Jen was impressed.

Jen figured she was stuck with feeding Prada and walking her. Jonah joined her on the walked but didn’t ask her about going out. Doc was watching a ball game. Actually, because of the pandemic, it was a rerun. Jen couldn’t get Navada out of her mind. It was one of those ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ situations. She decided that if she had sex with Doc and Jonah simultaneously that night, she’d forget about Navada. It was not the first time she lied to herself.