Nearly Departed, Max Schlienger [the gingerbread man read aloud txt] 📗

strains of classical music that were coming from elsewhere in the building. The pair emerged into an apartment with Spartan furnishings and the biggest stereo system that Dennis had ever seen. Speakers, both large and small, lined the room, and the melodies that Dennis had heard earlier jumped into clear definition. It was little more than ambient noise, but he had little doubt that the music could crack the foundation if it had been turned up to full volume.

“Okay,” said Bobo, gesturing to a couch. “Sit. Explain.” Dennis took the invitation, and placed his computer on the coffee table in front of him.

“Remember how you asked what the point of being a doctor or a priest was?” he asked, bringing the laptop to life.

Bobo furrowed his brow, and pulled the wig from his head. “No, not really.”

“I told you how everyone at the UFO convention was a doctor or a reverend,” Dennis reminded him. “It gave them more credibility, remember?”

“Oh, right, yes,” replied Bobo, nodding.

“Well,” Dennis continued, “it gave me an idea. So, I did a little research, and I found something that I thought you should see.”

“You said that already,” Bobo pointed out. “Couldn’t you have just, you know, emailed it to me? Or called me?”

“Uh,” Dennis stammered. “I was afraid my phone was being tapped.”

Bobo gave him a strange look. “No you wasn’t.”

“Fine, you’re right,” confessed Dennis irritably. “I just panicked and I wasn’t thinking straight. So sue me. Will you come look at this, please?”

Bobo grinned, which Dennis had decided was the man’s response to just about everything, and moved to take a seat on the couch. Dennis turned the computer to face him, and sat back expectantly as Bobo read through the page.

“Yes, very interesting,” Bobo said after a few minutes. “I like the part about the wrecking ball particularly. What does this have to do with us?”

“Look at the picture,” Dennis prompted.

Bobo towards the computer again. “Oh, yeah. That’s Elspeth’s house, isn’t it? Looks like someone scanned it in from a newspaper.”

“They did,” affirmed Dennis. “Read the caption.”

“When was this taken?”

“Read the caption!” Dennis repeated.

“Keep your hair on, September,” said Bobo. “Uh, right. So, it says that the house’s owner – Elspeth Palin, look at that – was approached by an anonymous party about selling it, right after her father’s obituary was printed.” He sat back, a triumphant smile crossing his face. “Ah, it was taken eight years ago. That’s when Evy showed up, yeah?”

“It isn’t related. Not to this.”

“Good to know.” Bobo looked at Dennis expectantly. When Dennis didn’t reply, he rolled his eyes. “Come on, out with it. What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“Look at who took the picture.”

Bobo sighed and turned his attention back to the computer. “Photo by M. R. Spinner,” he read. He paused, and his eyes widened slightly. “Blimey, ain’t that the PI?”

“It would be a pretty big coincidence if it wasn’t,” said Dennis. “And if it’s not a coincidence, then it means that he knew about Elspeth a long time ago.”

There was a brief glimmer of understanding in Bobo’s eyes, but it was quickly obscured by a cloud of confusion. “Wait, I’m lost. This bloke knows about Elspeth, and he knows about Harding, right?” Dennis nodded. “What’s that have to do with the shrink’s niece, then?”

“It’s Spinner’s niece,” corrected Dennis, “and I don’t think Spinner is a private detective at all.”

Bobo blinked. “What?”

“It’s been bothering me for awhile now,” Dennis explained. “I couldn’t figure out why he was interested in me, or why he cared what I was doing at Elspeth’s house. If he’s a private detective, then somebody must have hired him. If he’s not, then he must have some kind of personal investment at stake.” He took a breath, considering his own thought process. “Since Spinner was already suspicious of Harding, he must have figured that I was involved with the thing with his niece. Then, when he saw me at Elspeth’s house, he decided that I was up to something. So, he made a fake business card claiming that he was a private investigator, and tried to scare me off out of his own sense of personal justice.” He looked at Bobo, who was sitting in pensive silence.

“Okay,” Bobo said, tilting his head. “Just a few problems there, September.”

“Like what?” challenged Dennis. “What could I have left out?”

“How about the part where he follows you to Elspeth’s house the first time?” Bobo suggested. “Or did he just happen to be there when you showed up? Speaking of bloody big coincidences, I mean.”

“Well, he was already following me when I talked to Elspeth on the phone,” said Dennis. “He could have seen me write down the address, recognized it, and heard me set up my appointment with her.”

“Alright, fine.” Bobo made a conceding gesture, which he turned into a pointing finger. “Why’d he follow you the next day, then? It’s nothing to do with his niece, right?”

“Right,” agreed Dennis, “but maybe it’s a similar situation. Maybe he feels personally obligated to help her out somehow. I mean, he was obviously there when the article was written.” He nodded at the computer screen.

“Was he?” Bobo asked. “I don’t know, September. He took the picture, but that’s all we know for sure.”

“I think we can make a reasonable assumption at this point,” Dennis countered.

“Right, because reasonable assumptions are always on the mark,” replied Bobo. “Your man Spinner certainly thinks so.”

A frightening thought occurred to Dennis. “Wait, do you think he could have followed me here?” he asked. He looked at the window nervously. “Shit, he could be right outside!”

Bobo seemed poised to dismiss the thought, but hesitated and shrugged. “Let’s have a look-see,” he said, pulling his wig back into place. He stood up and walked to the window, where he brushed aside the curtains. “Blue car, right?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Dennis confirmed. “Is he out there?” Bobo didn’t respond. “Well? Is he out there?”

“Could be,” said Bobo, his voice low. “Come look.”

Dennis stood and joined the larger