Psychic Evidence

By Costa Carol

A homicide detective and a county prosecutor risk their reputations and careers to bring a killer to justice based on evidence obtained at a séance. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press
• Release date: May 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781611608168

Costa Carol

Carol Costa is a professional writer and editor. She is also an award-winning playwright and a journalist. Carol has worked as an editor of books and newspapers, a business news correspondent, and managed a literary agency.Carol’s plays have been published and produced in New York City, Los Angeles, and regional theaters across the country. She has also worked as the Artistic Director of a community theater. She currently runs a Readers Theater in Tucson, Arizona that benefits a local charity.The first two books in the Dana Sloan series, A Deadly Hand, and The Master Plan, are now available as mass-market paperbacks by Harlequin’s Worldwide Mystery imprint.Other Books by Carol Costa include:The Seventh Messenger, a historical novel, Anaphora Literary PressWhen Nothing Else Was Right, a Dana Sloan Mystery, Open Books PressAsk Aunt Emma Again, Champagne BooksHappiness Awaits You! Open Books PressAsk Aunt Emma, Champagne BooksInvisible Force, Champagne BooksThe Master Plan, Avalon BooksA Deadly Hand, Avalon BooksLove Steals the Scene, Avalon BooksLabor of Love, Avalon BooksTeach Yourself Accounting in 24 Hours, (1st & 2nd Editions) Penguin USAThe Complete Idiot's Guide to Surviving Bankruptcy, Penguin USATeach Yourself Bookkeeping in 24 Hours, Penguin USAVideo Poker: Play Longer with Less Risk, ECW PressThe Complete Idiot’s Guide to Starting and Running a Thrift Store, Penguin USAHer play: The Last Decent Crooks, is available through Norman Maine Play PublishingComing soon from Norman Maine is a zany melodrama, The Phantom of the Soap Opera.Member: Dramatists Guild, Mystery Writers of America

Book preview

PSYCHIC EVIDENCE

by

CAROL COSTA

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Published by

WHISKEY CREEK PRESS

Whiskey Creek Press

PO Box 51052

Casper, WY 82605-1052

www.whiskeycreekpress.com

Copyright Ó 2014 by Carol Costa

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 (five) years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Names, characters and incidents depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author or the publisher.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

ISBN: 978-1-61160-816-8

Cover Artist: Susan Krupp

Editor: Laura Josephsen

Printed in the United States of America

Dedication

For Maria Lynn Costa, Esq.

PROLOGUE

The phone call came well after midnight. Lisa struggled to sit up in bed, her back aching from the position of the baby who was due to arrive in the next six weeks. She reached across Scott to answer it. The weight of her woke him up, but she already had the phone in her hand.

Hello, Lisa said into the receiver. Anger flared when the caller identified himself. Do you know what time it is? she asked in an annoyed tone.

Who is it? Scott asked.

It’s that Jackson guy.

Scott took the phone from her as Lisa heard Bonnie call out from her bedroom. Lisa got out of bed and went to coax Bonnie back to sleep. As she left the room, she could hear Scott talking to Wayne Jackson.

It’s late, Wayne. You woke up the whole house.

Lisa assured her daughter that everything was all right, and the little girl yawned and lay down again.

Lisa went into the kitchen and got a drink of water. It was the beginning of August, and the nights were hot and humid. The air conditioning ran night and day this time of year. Lisa drank a glass of cold water and then headed back to the bedroom thinking unkind thoughts about Wayne Jackson. He was such a creep. Why Scott had befriended him was a mystery to her.

Before Lisa got back to the bedroom, Scott came out fully dressed.

Where are you going? Lisa asked him.

Wayne has a problem. I have to go and help him out.

What kind of a problem?

Nothing for you to worry about, Scott said, putting his arms around her. He apologizes for waking you and Bonnie. I’ll be back in an hour. You go back to sleep.

Scott kissed her lightly on the cheek and let go of her. Lisa wanted to tell him to stay home and let Jackson find some other sucker to drag out in the middle of the night, but she shook her head and walked back to bed.

The door to the garage opened, and Lisa heard the car start and pull out of its parking space. Then she closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Lisa awoke the next morning to find Bonnie standing next to her.

Her blonde hair was sticking up in all directions and she had a frown on her two-year-old face.

Daddy’s gone and he didn’t make me breakfast, she told her mother.

Lisa glanced at the clock; it was after eight. Since she’d gotten pregnant again, Scott had been getting up early each day and making breakfast for Bonnie so Lisa could sleep a little longer.

I’m sorry, Lisa said. He must have had to go to work early today.

Bonnie shrugged. I want Coco Puffs, she said.

A few minutes later, Bonnie was eating her cereal and Lisa was calling Scott’s cell phone. It rang four times and then went to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message. Then she dialed the auto dealership. The salesroom wasn’t open yet, but her father-in-law was always there by seven.

Michael Brennan answered his direct line on the second ring. Good morning, Lisa, he said pleasantly.

Hi. Is Scott there?

You know my son doesn’t show up until well after nine, he replied.

Well, he’s probably on his way. Have him call me when he gets there, Lisa said.

They exchanged a few more words and then Michael wanted to talk to his only grandchild. Bonnie got on the phone and talked for a minute or two, and then Bonnie said goodbye and handed the phone back to her mother.

I’ll have Scott call you. You may want to try his cell.

I did, but he didn’t answer. He’s probably driving or forgot to turn it on again, Lisa said and hung up.

An hour later, Lisa called the dealership again. Scott still wasn’t there and still wasn’t answering his cell phone. Lisa was getting worried.

Michael Brennan came to the house at three. He was clearly worried too. Lisa told him about the phone call from Wayne Jackson and how Scott had left the house to meet him.

Do you have his number? Michael asked.

Lisa shook here head. I checked the caller ID, but it said unknown caller.

Michael called the police and was told an adult had to be missing for twenty-four hours before they would take a report.

Michael hung up and dialed the mayor’s office. Michael had contributed large amounts to the mayor’s campaigns and was not shy about asking Romero for favors. Scott is missing and I need help looking for him, Michael told the mayor.

Chapter 1

Detective Lon Perry looked at the photograph he had taken from Scott Brennan’s wife. The ring he was wearing in the photo matched his wife’s. Two hands clasping a heart crowned in diamonds was unusual. As he stared at the photograph, he remembered the promise he had made to the pretty young woman and her small daughter.

Don’t worry, Mrs. Brennan. I promise you I will find your husband. I won’t rest until I do.

Lon sighed. It had been three weeks now since Scott Brennan had driven off into the night and disappeared.

Lon's desk was off in one corner, grouped with the two others forming the Missing Persons Unit. He glanced at the tidy desk opposite his where Sergeant Randall usually ran things with an iron fist, but for the past three weeks, the sarge had been laid up recovering from knee replacement surgery. That put Lon in charge of the unit, the unit being Lon himself and Detective Augustino Castro, who belonged to Missing Persons half the time and to Domestic Violence half the time. So with the sergeant out of commission, Lon was basically just in charge of himself.

He made his way to the coffee room and looked at the donuts that were probably left over from the night shift.

Good morning, Lon. I hope you’re not going to snatch up the last chocolate donut.

The female voice came from behind Lon, and he turned around to look at Paula Taylor, the only female homicide detective on the force. Paula’s coal black hair was cut short, with a sweep of bangs across her forehead. She was a striking young woman with a light olive complexion, a flawless feature from her Latin mother. But it was the intense blue of her eyes from her gringo father that always made Lon feel as if he were being scrutinized. While Paula was not very tall, her slimness gave her the appearance of being sleek, and she moved with effortless grace.

It’s all yours, Lon told her. My wife has me on a diet again.

Paula picked up the donut and smiled at him. So how's it going over in Missing Persons? I’ll bet you’re really busy with Sergeant Randall out.

Right. Congrats on the big bust, Lon said as he carried his coffee past her and out of the room.

Thanks, Paula called after him.

* * * *

Paula knew that Lon resented her, and that made her uneasy but determined not to show it. When Lon had been transferred to Missing Persons two years earlier, Paula had been moved up to take his place in homicide. Unconfirmed rumors of a botched arrest had surfaced but had been quickly squelched.

A few days earlier, Paula had arrested two men wanted in a high-profile case of a murder at Rillito Park race track.

Paula carried coffee and the chocolate donut back to her desk.

She was in early this morning to catch up on paperwork. She started up her computer and opened the Rillito Park case file that needed to be updated. The phone on her desk rang.

Clark Kent on line one, the front desk dispatcher said with a chuckle.

Paulo grinned and accessed the call. They’re still calling you Clark Kent, she told the caller.

That’s wearing thin, Rick Stevens said. A few weeks earlier, Rick had chased down a purse snatcher outside of the courthouse. The purse belonged to an elderly woman who was trying to hail a cab. Rick was tall and athletic with a black belt in karate.

He had caught up with the culprit and brought the guy to his knees with a deftly landed blow. At the time, Rick had been wearing regular eye glasses instead of his customary contact lenses. The whole thing had been captured by a cameraman from one of the TV channels.

The whole episode made the six o’clock news, along with the woman’s comment that Rick had come to her rescue like Superman. Paula had to admit Rick had looked like Clark Kent as portrayed by the handsome actor, Christopher Reeves.

It’s the price of celebrity, Paula told him.

Right. I’m missing the arrest reports for your latest triumph.

I’m finishing them up now. I’ll e-mail them to you in a few minutes.

Good enough, Rick said.

Paula hung up the phone and went back to the arrest reports on her computer screen.

Paula was the current star of the Tucson Homicide Division, while Rick Stevens was the top prosecutor of Pima County. His conviction record was stellar and Paula was always happy when Rick was assigned to one of her cases. Making an arrest was only the first step in obtaining justice for a victim. The perps had to be tried, convicted and sent to prison to complete the case. That’s where Rick came in. Paula didn’t think anyone in the prosecutor’s office came close to Rick’s talents and abilities.

Paula finished the reports, accessed the internet and sent them off to Rick’s e-mail account.

Paula’s phone rang again. It was a police officer from the Tucson Airport.

I just ran the plate on a car that’s been sitting in short-term parking for weeks. It belongs to one Scott Brennan. Isn’t he the missing son of the car dealer?

I think so, Paula replied. I’ll transfer you to the detective in Missing Persons.

Hold on, the cop said. I think someone from homicide should come out too. I took the dogs out and they went crazy around the trunk area.

An hour later, Paula and Lon were at the airport. A locksmith had been called and he opened the car doors and the trunk.

No body, Lon said with a sigh of relief.

Paula peered inside the trunk and saw a large bag of dry dog food. That was what had gotten the airport dogs’ attention.

On the way back to the station, Paula and Lon discussed what finding Brennan’s car abandoned at the airport could mean.

He could have hopped a flight, Paula said. You’ll have to check on all outgoing flights for the time he vanished.

I already did that, Lon told her testily. And I checked all his credit card activity. No plane tickets, no car rentals, no charges at all since he left his house that night.

Sorry, Paula said. I didn’t mean to imply you weren’t thorough.

I’ll have to go back and interview the scumbag he left the house to meet that night.

Who’s that?

His name is Wayne Jackson. He’s an ex-con. Got sent up for dealing. He got out about a year ago and somehow was befriended by Brennan.

What did he have to say?

He didn’t say shit. Claimed that Brennan owed him money and he needed it to pay his rent. He called Brennan to meet him, but says that Brennan never showed up.

Do you believe him?

No, but I don’t have any reason to arrest him. His parole officer got him a job at Botanical Gardens. He shows up for work everyday and his boss says he’s a good worker. His parole ends in another month and then he’ll probably skip town. The hell of this case is Brennan’s wife and kid. Lisa Brennan is a lovely girl with an adorable two-year-old daughter and another baby due in a few weeks. I really wanted to find her husband for her sake.

You’re a good detective, Lon. I’m sure you’ve done everything possible in this case.

Yeah, but I don’t think Brennan’s rich daddy thinks I have. The mayor calls the chief every week wanting a report on the case. This car at the airport is just another dead end.

Do you think Brennan is dead?

Lon shook his head. I don’t know. His old man says Brennan traveled to Mexico all the time on business for the dealership. I guess he could be there, maybe shacked up with some señorita.

Paula nodded. If he’s hiding across the border, there’s not much we can do to find him.

Ain’t that the truth, Lon said. Ain’t that the damn truth.

Chapter 2

Scott Brennan’s car was towed in and the forensics team went over it but found nothing in it that would help locate its owner. The dog food in the trunk was a bag Scott had purchased for the guard dogs at the dealership.

With new cases to investigate, Lon Perry was forced to put Brennan’s case on the back burner. He had made another visit to Lisa Brennan to report their lack of any new leads on the case.

I won’t give up on it, Perry promised the young wife.

If I just knew one way or the other, Lisa told him. It’s the uncertainty that is driving me crazy. And Scott’s parents and sisters are suffering too.

Lon left the house feeling angry and depressed.

* * * *

Paula’s partner, Jeff Durando, had been on vacation all week. Currently, Paula and Jeff were the only two detectives in homicide. Two uniformed officers were scheduled to be promoted, but so far, that hadn’t happened. Jeff was coming back to work on Saturday morning, and Paula was taking the weekend off.

Paula’s mother had a big party planned for her Paula’s father’s birthday.

The party was Sunday afternoon, at the posh Arizona Inn. The inn was taking care of all the food and drinks, but Paula had promised to spend all day Saturday with her mother, helping to run the errands that her mom insisted would give the party her personal touch.

Paula’s dad, Jonathon Taylor, was a law professor at the University of Arizona. Rick Stevens had been one of his students and Jon was very proud of the success Rick had attained in the criminal court system. Jon always joked that he had taught Rick everything he knew.

It was Rick’s friendship with her father that had prompted Paula to seek Rick’s advice on the first homicide case she had investigated. She had figured out who to arrest, but she wanted to make sure she had enough evidence to make the arrest stick and get the creep convicted.

At the time, Rick was engaged and Paula had a steady boyfriend.

So, they had both ignored the attraction they felt for each other and ended up forming a solid friendship.

Two years later, Rick was divorced and Paula’s steady boyfriend was long gone. The two had remained good friends, but both were concentrating on their respective careers and that left little time for anything but a platonic relationship.

On Sunday, the private dining room at the Arizona Inn was filled to capacity with well-wishers.

Paula had been instructed to stand at the door to greet any latecomers and seat them at a corner table that had been reserved for those arrivals.

Paula’s older brother and sister were seated with their in-laws and kids next to the head table. Paula had opted to sit at the latecomers’ table. Within ten minutes, all the seats at the table were filled except