Ken Douglas - Dead Ringer

“The Ghost is back.” Jasmine pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes. They’d been up here since breakfast, without the air-conditioning on. It was hot. She was sweating. They had the window open a crack, but the little bit of sea breeze slipping in wasn’t enough.

“Let me see!” Sonya’s brown eyes were open wide as she replaced Jasmine at the window. Tiny, honey brown fingers pulled the blinds apart. She was afraid of the Ghost. “He’s so spooky.”

“He’s a policeman.” Jasmine moved up next to her. The one who looked like a ghost had come before, with the police, so Jasmine guessed he was a detective, because he was wearing ordinary clothes, even if they looked like he’d slept in them. She was a little afraid of him too, but if anyone could catch the killer, a ghost could.

The other man was wearing a dark suit with a vest, way too much for the beach on a hot day. He was the one who brought her mom home from the police station after what she’d seen in that mini market store in Long Beach. He’d been wearing jeans and a flower print shirt on that day, but Jasmine recognized him because of his long ponytail.

The Ghost knocked, then opened the door and they went into the condo. Darn, she should’ve locked the door. For a second she thought about going for the security guard. Danny could kick those guys out of there real quick, but she didn’t want to leave her spot at the window.

She bit the inside of her cheek, felt blood with her tongue. She didn’t mean to do it, she’d been concentrating too hard. She thought about how her mom had left on another of her writer’s retreats. A quick kiss on the cheek. A fast ruffle of her hair, then she was out the door with her suitcase. Gone for a week, studying and writing up in Big Bear. Did she know the cops were gonna come around? Was that why she took off?

No. If she did, she’d have taken her with her. Her mom was a scatterbrain, but no way would she have left her behind, not if she knew the Ghost was in town. Jasmine could hardly wait till tomorrow. She was supposed to be back then. Tomorrow everything was gonna be okay.

She’d miss hanging out next door with Sonya. No restriction on television time. At home, she could only watch for an hour a night. No broccoli, no cauliflower, no string beans and no spinach-her mom would hate that. Jasmine smiled, what her mom didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt her.

She stuck her lower lip out and blew her hair back from her forehead. Still, as much fun as she was having at Sonya’s, she wanted her mom back. Every second she was gone, worried her more. What if the killer had gotten her?

Down below, the Ghost looked out the door, almost as if he knew the two girls were watching. He seemed to be looking out over the ocean, but Jasmine wasn’t fooled. Those spooky eyes saw everything. It was scary. He walked to the fence between the condos and the sea, bent down and picked up a handful of sand, then he stood and let it slip through his fingers, almost like she did when she played at the beach everyday. Why’d he do that? He turned, went back to the condo, but just before entering, he glanced up at the clubhouse and for a second, Jasmine imagined those ghosty eyes could see through the wall. She shivered, but he went into her house and she couldn’t see him anymore.

Gay Sullivan was singing “My Girl” along with Smokey Robinson as she turned off the Pacific Coast Highway and into the drive for the Huntington Beach Sand and Sea Condos. “Beach Front Homes on the Sand,” the sign said. She braked at the security gate, turned off the CD player. The dashboard clock said 3:00, she checked her Rolex, 3:15. The dash clock was still slow, and they said they’d fixed it. She sighed. A classic XKE Jaguar was like a boat, you paid for the maintenance, then you paid to have it done again.

“How’s it going, Mrs. Sullivan?” the guard at the gate said.

“Okay for me, Danny boy.” She knew it pleased him, his name said that way.

Danny wore a frown. He was a fifty-eight year old black man with skin dark as Gay’s, who claimed never to have had a bad day in his life. He was the eternal optimist. So the frown worried her.

“What’s wrong?” Her first thought was of the girls.

“The police are back. They want to see Mrs. Kenyon. Now they think she’s missing.”

“She’s not missing. Margo’s off on one of her retreats. Jazz is staying with me.”

“You know it and I know it, but the cops don’t know it.”

“You didn’t tell ’em?”

“I don’t talk to cops.”

“Danny, I’ve got a feeling Margo’s in trouble.”

“Me too. You know what it’s about?”

“Nobody told you? You’re supposed to be the security here.”

“I guess the real cops don’t have much use for guys like me.”

“Well, I sure do, so listen up. Margo was standing in line at the check out behind Frankie Fujimori, at a convenience store in Long Beach, when some guy walks in, pulls out a shotgun and blows Frankie away. Guy pointed the gun at her, apparently changed his mind, then took off. Nobody saw the shooter’s face except Margo.”

“I saw that on the news. Nobody told me Mrs. Kenyon was there.”

“You’re surprised? You know how she felt about Fujimori. She would’ve walked barefoot through hot coals if it would’ve helped put him back where he belonged.”

“She’s a tough one alright.” Danny had that wistful look in his eyes. Gay thought she smelled marijuana. Ah well, God didn’t put her on this earth to judge others. She had enough trouble keeping care of Sonya and her own self.

“Yeah, she’s tough, but that shotgun in her face really shook her up. A cop had to drive her home, guess it was after you got off or you would’ve known. I had to drive her to the police parking lot in Long Beach the next day to get her car.”

“She left that brand new Porsche in a parking lot all night long? In Long Beach?”

“Police parking, but yeah. That’s how shook up she was.”

“I should know this stuff.” Danny narrowed his eyes. The faraway look was gone now. He was one hundred percent concentration.

“The cops want to keep it quiet. I think Margo does too. So don’t tell her I said anything. But it’s stupid of them not to tell you. I mean, what if the killer found out? What if he tried to get by you? You know, to get to her.”

“Nobody gets in here without a tenant clears him. But just the same, I’m gonna be twice as careful now that I know.” He slapped his holstered pistol, a gunfighter ready for battle. “And don’t you worry, I won’t let on you told me.”

“Good.” Gay smiled at him as he waived her past. Stupid cops, not telling Danny, how dumb.

She used her clicker to open the gate for tenant parking, found her spot and parked. At her condo, she saw the door next door was open. She clenched her fists, tensed. She didn’t like the thought of police in Margo’s home. She wasn’t a criminal.

“Yo.” Gay recognized Bruce Kenyon’s voice. He must’ve come in right behind her and parked in the guest parking. She turned and waited. “So, what’s the deal?” he said. “The guy at the gate says there’s cops here to see Margo.”

“I don’t know anything about it.” Gay sighed, she didn’t like Margo’s ex. She didn’t know anybody who did.

Bruce walked into Margo’s apartment without knocking. Gay followed. They were in the living room, making themselves at home. The Hispanic one sitting in one of the rattan chairs had his hair pulled back into a ponytail. The other one, the albino, was sprawled out on the sofa. Gay could spot a cop in a crowd any day, but these two would’ve fooled her.

“Mr. Kenyon.” The one in the chair got up, hand extended to Bruce, but it was the albino on the couch who didn’t get up that caught Gay’s attention. He seemed too relaxed, too at ease, as if he had every right to be where he was, as if he were sitting in his own home, in his own living room. She wondered if anything ever fazed him.