Audrey Claire - Libby Grace 01 - How to be a Ghost by Audrey Claire Page A

question everyone who might have had contact with George Walsh before he died. That’s procedure. I’m sorry you don’t like it, but I will do my job. And I will …find my man—or wo man. Do I make myself clear, Mr. Lucas?”
     Miles nodded. He licked his lips and pushed a tuft of blond hair from his forehead. “I don’t have any letters from George. I destroyed them all.”
    My mouth fell open.
    “Why would you do that?”
    And why would you admit it? I thought.
    Miles glared at Clark, drawing his fingers into fists. “Because I refuse to be blamed for this. After I couldn’t find that note in the place I know I put it, I got scared. I knew someone was trying to pin this on me. No way am I taking the fall. No way! Not for him .”
    I was right about no love lost there.
    “I was with George a few times,” Miles said. “It was a fling, nothing more. But now I don’t have anything to prove it. I realize it was stupid to destroy the notes.”
    “Yes, it was,” Clark agreed. “What about emails?”
    Miles laughed, a humorless sound. “That guy? George wasn’t the computer type. He has a website for his hardware store, but he hired a man to do it for him. I bet he hasn’t ever gone to look at it and doesn’t know if he even has a contact email for work.”
    “Is there anything else you’d like to share about George Walsh?”
    Miles thought about it and shrugged. “He was a nice guy. A little pushy but nothing I couldn’t handle. I can’t imagine anyone hating him enough to kill him except—”
    “Could Mr. Walsh have been seeing anyone other than you or his wife?”
    At the question, Miles appeared insulted. “No.”
    That will be all, Mr. Lucas. Thank you for your time.” Clark dug in a pocket and pulled out a wrinkled business card. “If you write down my number, and call me if you think of anything else, I would appreciate it.”
    Miles snatched the card and stuffed it into a jean pocket. I grinned at the annoyance in Clark’s expression. He apparently did not have a big enough budget for business cards to go to waste and had wanted the card back. I almost patted his shoulder and wondered at his own knowledge of the internet and all he could find at reasonable prices. Maybe if I ever appeared to him again, I would inform him.
    I followed Clark outside, and we returned to the station. Just as Clark stepped out of the car and I floated from it, his sister Isabelle stopped in front of us balancing a basket over her arm. When she glared straight at me, I froze, unable to react or move. The world seemed to stand still, and time passed. Then her gaze shifted to her brother, and I realized my fears were unfounded.
    “Clark, I’ve been waiting here all morning for you,” she complained.
    “I’m sorry, sis. I had suspects to question.”
    “Never mind that.” I got the impression Isabelle usually brushed aside whatever Clark said. “What did you eat for breakfast?”
    “I—”
    “Cookies, I bet. When I have offered to make you breakfast every morning. You can’t live off cookies, Clark. It’s not healthy.”
    The chief ran a hand over his belly and sucked it in. I for one thought he was handsome no matter what.
    “I brought you a nice lunch. Roast beef on fresh bread,” Isabelle chirped.
    Clark’s gaze lit up. “Cheese?”
    “Dairy doesn’t agree with you.”
    He grumbled. “You should know.”
    “What was that, Clark Givens? I didn’t know I was such a burden to my big brother.” She lowered her gaze over eyes identical to Clark’s. “If you would rather I get my own place, please tell me, and I will be out of your hair.”
    I drifted a car length away as they argued walking into the station. The sister and brother were close, and for me to stick around would be an invasion of their privacy if they intended to eat together in his office. I watched my only way of having my questions answered disappearing into the building. At the last second, as Clark seemed about to turn around,