SPIRIT OF CONSEQUENCE (A Spirit Walking Mystery Book 1) by Peggy Dulle

that’s really the weird part. Why haven’t I moved on? Why am I not in heaven?”
    “Is something keeping you here?”
    “I don’t know what it could be.”
    “Maybe it’s a who rather than a what.”
    “My parents are dead, I have no brothers or sisters, and I wasn’t involved with anyone when I died.”
    “How did you die?”
    That was a great question, but one I didn’t have an answer to. I don’t remember being sick, lying in a hospital, or anything like that. The last thing I remember was driving my car. Being a ghost was so frustrating; not knowing why I was a ghost was maddening.
    Dodge interrupted my thoughts. “I’m sorry, Samantha, if it upsets you to talk about when you died.” He shook his head. “That was really insensitive of me.”
    “It’s okay. It’s just that I’m not sure how I died.”
    “What?”
    “The best I can figure out is that I was in a car accident. The last thing I remember is driving my car down the curvy highway by my house.”
    “Did someone hit you?”
    “I don’t think so. It was raining and I was driving really fast, taking the curves by downshifting rather than braking. I don’t know how, but I figure I lost control of the car and crashed.”
    “Why were you driving at that speed in the rain?”
    “I always drove fast.” He frowned and I ignored him. “Besides, I’d been driving those roads since I was sixteen. I could drive them with my eyes closed.”
    He shook his head. “I bet you did.”
    “Did what?”
    “Drive them with your eyes closed.”
    I turned away and muttered, “Only a few times.”
    Ten minutes later we pulled up to an apartment complex on Nob Hill. Dodge slid his car to the curb. A patrol car waited out front for us.
    Dodge put in his earpiece, winked at me, and then said, “Let’s go get the bad guy.”
    “What do you want me to do?”
    “Stay with me until we get to Allen’s apartment. Then go in ahead of me and let me know if it’s safe to go in. I’ll follow with one of the patrolmen.”
    I slid out of the car and followed him. The fog had miraculously lifted and the night was clear. You could even see a few stars in the sky. It was quite nice weather for the city in June.
    Two patrolmen got out of their squad car as we approached. One was a tall stocky African American, the other a small wiry Asian. San Francisco had the most diverse police force of any city. Dodge shook hands with them. Their nameplates told me that Officer Bill Jackson was the taller man, and the shorter Officer Dan Choi.
    “What’s up, Dodge?” Officer Jackson asked.
    “I’ve got a source that says that someone is going to try and kill Allen Jorgensen tonight, Bill.”
    “Why?”
    “He’s part of a betting and extortion ring that I ran across while investigating a homicide.”
    “The prostitute murders?” Officer Choi asked.
    “Yes. I was going to have him picked up tomorrow, Dan, to answer some questions and to verify a suspect’s alibi. I guess his boss was afraid that he might let something slip about the operation while I questioned him about the murders.”
    “How do you want to play this?” Officer Jackson asked.
    “Jorgensen’s apartment is on the top floor,” Dodge told them.
    Officer Choi whistled. “That’s got to cost a fortune.”
    “The betting and extortion business pays well,” Officer Jackson pointed out. “Dan will stay in the front lobby and make sure Allen doesn’t slip out.”
    “Perfect,” Dodge replied. “You and I can go up and ring his doorbell.”
    The four of us walked into the lobby. It was richly decorated with blush carpeting, crystal chandeliers, and antique oak furniture.
    In the middle of the lobby sat a security guard behind a tall oak circular counter. Dodge walked up to him and flipped out his badge.
    “What can I do for you, officers?” The guard asked.
    “We need to see Allen Jorgensen,” Dodge told him.
    The guard glanced at his watch. “It’s after two in the morning. Mr. Jorgensen is