Other Worldly Ways (Anthology 1) by Connie Suttle Page B

she was younger."
    "You knew her?" Agent Ricks turned a speculative eye on Shane. Well, Shane seldom practiced discretion.
    "Not really. She donated to my charity. As a business expense," he added. "A hundred dollars, every year." At least he knew not to grumble over the amount. After all, Nina was still standing there, listening.
    "No regular contact?" Ricks stared at Shane, an eyebrow lifted. If he thought Shane might be intimidated by a lifted eyebrow, then he needed to go back to Agent School.
    "No regular or personal contact, no. She always mailed a check to the charity. That's it," Shane replied. "She sold a house to an acquaintance. He said she was in her thirties."
    "Was you acquaintance happy with her services?" Ricks' eyebrow was still lifted.
    "Yeah. Charlie loves that house. Said he got a deal on it, too."
    "Look," I said, pulling Agent Ricks' attention away from Shane. "I think you'll be a busy man if you start questioning everybody who ever bought a house from Miss Shelton. Besides, Charlie Dillon is on the City Council, in addition to being four feet tall. I also doubt his ability to find a ski mask that coordinates perfectly with his business suits."
    Charlie Dillon, an old friend of Shane's, was always impeccably dressed. He was also so deep in the closet he'd probably seen Narnia. And he was the best (and fairest) Councilman we had, so I wasn't about to out him. He was a kind, generous man, and didn't deserve what some Atlanta citizens would say about him if they learned he was gay.
    "Charlie is nice, I liked him. It wasn't him," Nina weighed in on the conversation. "The man at my door was too tall."
    "See, even Nina says this guy wasn't Charlie—he was taller than Charlie," I offered. "Two people eliminated already."
    "Two?" Detective Glass spoke up.
    "Well, three, if you include yourself," I said. "Agent Ricks is taller than six feet, Charlie Dillon is shorter than six feet, and I can only assume you have an alibi. That leaves the six-foot male population of Atlanta, Detective. Nina," I turned to her spirit, "is there anything else you can remember about the gunman?"
    "No." She was back to weeping ghostly tears. "Why would anybody shoot me? I was nice to everybody."
    "Honey, I don't know," I answered truthfully. "Some people are just crazy, and terrible things happen all the time." It wasn't the first time I'd had to answer that question.
    * * *
    "Steven says he's working late," I said, stuffing my cell phone in my purse. "Before you say anything," I held up a hand to keep Shane from pointing out the obvious, "I got tired of paying that investigator six months ago. All the reports were the same; only the women he was out with changed."
    "He's a pig," Shane muttered his favorite insult for Steven Francis. Steven and I'd been married thirty-two years. The only good thing to come of that marriage was our son, Steven Francis Jr.
    Stevie was so disgusted with his father, he joined the military before the ink dried on his college diploma. Now he was in special ops and seldom told me where he was or what he was doing. At least he let me know regularly that he thought about me and loved me.
    Steven, on the other hand, hadn't slept in the same bed for the past sixteen years. Not since his mother died, anyway. Yes, I can see the dead. I can also talk to the dead, plus a few other talents, if you can call them that. The moment I told Steven that his dead mother wanted him to change his ways, he started screaming that I was lying.
    The break had come shortly after, and the only reason we hadn't divorced is that Steven could ruin me—and likely have me stuck in a mental hospital for the rest of my life because of my unusual talents. Face it—what judge would believe that sort of crap?
    The money isn't Steven's, either—that's the biggest part of our problem. It's mine. He wanted it, and probably considered ways to get it and get rid of me every day. Shane helped in that respect—he'd told Steven repeatedly that if