Moonrise Diner Page 3

  Forcing her best glad-to-meet-you smile on her lips as they arrived at the desk she said, "Hello. We're looking for Milton Spender."

  Reddick, whose black eyes were focused on a document on the desk, looked up at them. "Milt? Why would you want ta see that old son of a bitch?"

  Startled for a few seconds that Reddick would speak of a resident this way Amanda waited several seconds before speaking. "Uhhh, well, we have an old friend who knows Milt and wants us to check in on him." Her mouth formed a weak smile. "To see if he's okay."

  Reddick snorted derisively and rose from the chair he'd been sitting in. "It's your funeral, lady." He walked to stand in front of a bulletin board affixed to the wall behind him. After scanning a document pegged to the board he said, "Milt should be in the music appreciation class, that is if he felt like it today." He grunted. "Every days an adventure with Milt."

  Shaking his head he walked back to sit in the chair. "Got ID?"

  Phillip pulled out his wallet while Amanda opened her purse and extracted her driver's license from a pocket inside. After Reddick looked over their identification he asked them to sign their names in a visitors register.

  "Folks from Boston come all the way to Phoenix to see a bastard like Milt Spender..." He snorted again. "Makes no difference to me, but you've come a long way for nuthin'." He handed them each a fire engine red plasticized visitors pass with a clip to attached to their breast pockets instructing them to display them at all times while on the premises.

  "Thank you, Mr. Reddick. Which way to the class?"

  Reddick pointed to the wide hallway left of the desk filled with older men and women shuffling along aided by walkers, some in wheel chairs, others in track suits walking briskly along their sport shoes squeaking on the tiled floor. To a person they all appeared happy and content. "Follow the yellow line on the wall to G Wing, Room 128A."

  Amanda turned to face Phillip. Lowering her voice so Reddick couldn't hear them she said, "Why don't you find a place for a coffee? I want to speak with Mr. Spender by myself." Phillip opened his mouth to speak until she placed one finger over his lips. "No questions, please. I need to do this alone."

  Phillip nodded but his eyes told her he wasn't happy about her decision. Nevertheless he disappeared in the opposite direction after asking passing nurse directions for the cafeteria.

  Amanda watched him go her stomach jumping to its own beat since her nerves were on edge. This case had given her a nervous stomach. She hadn't been sleeping well since starting the trek to Arizona, and meeting her uncle and aunt's younger ghosts hadn't helped her condition. True, a major emotional weight had been lifted from her after she forgave Gib, but she had the sinking feeling this visit to Milt wasn't going to end well.

  She made her way along the maze of hallways following the yellow line painted on wall until she found G Wing. A sign with arrows under the big letter G showed room 128A was to the left.

  Taking in a deep breath she headed down the hallway letting the air escape her lungs and taking another deep breath as she walked. She passed a number of the white haired residents, all of who nodded as they offered her close-mouthed smiles. With all the smiling Amanda began to wonder of this was the Stepford senior's home and all these people were duplicates created by computers and microchips.

  The nurses she passed on the other hand didn't even look in her direction causing her to wonder about the effectiveness of the security system. In Amanda's line of work you tend to look at the details of a place when entering unknown territory. Often the minutiae of a place told you more than the people or the larger, more elaborate details.

  Staff who ignored the most basic security protocol showed they couldn't care less about the place where they worked and its residents, or the security personnel were incompetent, lazy, or both.

  Sure enough a portly man appeared from around a corner coming in her direction wearing a white shirt with shoulder patches reading Security, and black slacks. His blond hair was cut to half an inch from his round head. He rode a Segway. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes and the belt around his waist was heavy with all sorts of rattling tools, and numerous leather pouches.

  As he rolled to a stop beside her he gazed at her. The portable radio on his belt was on a low volume, but she could still hear snatches of conversations; something about a big game of some kind, and someone else talking about what they were making for dinner that night.

  "Hey, there, Miss, you got a visitor pass?"

  Amanda showed him the visitor badge clipped to the hem of her shirt.

  "OK, thank you, Miss." He nodded then headed away soon disappearing in an adjacent hallway.

  Watching the security guard until he disappeared she finally shook head. "Yup, that's a poor excuse for security. You called it girl," she murmured.

  Finally she found the room 128A and, after opening the door, stuck her head inside. The room was large; no doubt it could seat at least fifty people at tables at chairs comfortably. There were no windows and the walls were lined with billboards from famous Broadway shows.

  At the front of the room was a row of five occupied wheelchairs in front of which was a raised platform, upon which stood a rail thin brown haired man standing beside a small table where a mini stereo blared music. Amanda recognized the tune being played.

  It was a song from the Broadway musical Oklahoma, the one about the fringe on top, or something like that. Her dad loved those musicals and played the cast albums all the time when she was a young girl. But right now she had more important things to take care of, like catching a murderer and helping two ghosts pass over.

  One of the occupants of the wheelchairs had to be Milt Spender.

  Stepping inside she closed the door as softly as possible so as not to disturb the audiences enjoyment of the show tunes echoing off the walls. She walked as softly as possible toward the platform until she stood behind the wheelchairs, the occupants of which were exclusively male.

  How am I going to nail down which one is Spender without interrupting the class?

  It was then she noticed the man on the platform was glaring at her his brow marred by deep creases. He was trying to get her attention by mouthing something she didn't understand. She raised her hands in mock surrender and shrugged.

  Walking around to stand in front of the wheelchairs she studied each grizzled man. Two were thin, two were heavy, and one was medium. The three bears of the seniors set.

  One had a scar on his left cheek, one had wispy gray hair that touched his shoulders, and one was bald as a cue ball. Her nose wrinkled at the overpowering odor of garlic emanating from cue ball.

  The man at the end of the row glared at her with red-rimmed azure eyes. Unshaven, wearing a dirty, red and brown plaid night gown over sky blue pajamas, his bare feet rested on the foot rests of the wheelchair, he seemed the most likely candidate to be a retired cop. His eyes followed her as she walked toward him. Yup, cop.

  "Milt?" she whispered after stepping up to stand over him.

  He grimaced. "What the fuck do you want?"

  His tone suggested aggression, but his hands, buried in his lap, were trembling. And his head wobbled like a bobble head. Minutiae reveals truth.

  "Let's you and I get out of here, Milt. We need to talk." She sensed all she needed to do was push him a little harder and he'd be putty in her hands.

  Milt avoided her steady gaze. "I'm not going anywhere with you, bitch." He spat the words from between his cracked, dry lips, but his words lacked forcefulness.

  She moved so she stood in front of him again but he snapped his head in the other direction as if trying to escape. "Really?" she said. "Would you prefer we conducted our business in here?"

  Milt's eyes shifted to lock with hers. There was fear behind them. "No...I mean...not really..." He reached down to unlock the brake on his chair then began to wheel away using his hands to push the tires forward.

  She glanced at the man on the platform and nodded. He raised the index finger of his left hand. Wha
t a nice guy.

  Amanda followed Milt out the door to the corridor then down the hall until they arrived at a door with a picture of him his name written underneath in block letters. The picture of him looked pretty much identical to the man seated in the wheelchair.

  Milt slapped a stainless steel plate on the wall next to the door and it began to slowly open into the room. As the gap became wider the florescent lights in the ceiling inside flickered to life.

  When the door had opened sufficiently, Milt turned his head slightly to catch her eye, grunted then turned to face forward and rolled himself inside. Amanda followed him in watching him until he stopped at the window overlooking the golf course where in the distance one gray haired man was striking his golf ball while another man of a similar vintage watched from a powered cart.

  It was sunny outside but Milt's room was located under an overhang so very little sunlight came through the window.

  Milt's elbows rested on the wheelchairs armrests his hands clasped in front of him, clasping unclasping worrying themselves with nervous energy. He peered at the golfers his body trembling uncontrollably. "I've always knew this day would come," he said, his voice soft as sun warmed butter. "Are you going to kill me now?"

  Amanda snorted causing him to look at her surprise registering on his gaunt, unshaven features. "Milt, I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to help Lucy and Gib Dark."

  Milt shifted his bottom in his wheelchair. "Gib? Lucy? They're—"

  "Dead," she finished for him. "Yes, they are, but their ghosts are very much still around, and they don't want to be around, for lack of a term that would make some sense to a lay person such as yourself."

  Milt had stopped shaking the fear beginning to dissipate. "Sorry, I don't follow..."

  She nodded and moved to sit on the single bed facing him. "Gib claims you killed his wife, Lucy. I need to know if you did." She leaned toward him her eyes on his. "It's just that easy." Now that she was closer she detected the sour smell of sweat coming from Milt. She wondered when was the last time he bathed.

  Gib was gaining confidence now his arrogance returning. "I used to be a cop ya know."

  She smirked. "Yes, I know. You were Gib's partner." She looked out the window. "From the look of this place I'd say you were a corrupt cop."

  Milt's eyes narrowed. "How would you know?"

  Amanda chuckled. "Let's stop playing games, Milty, just answer my question; did you murder Lucy Dark?"

  "Lady, I have no idea who the fuck you are so I'm not gonna tell you shit."

  "From what I see, Milt, my boy, you may need my services sooner than later."

  "Oh, yeah, really? So who and what are you that a useless old man like me would require your services?"

  Amanda grinned. "I'm Amanda Dark, I'm Gib's niece and I'm a paranormal investigator. I also have a special talent helping spirits of the dead unable to cross over after their death due to unresolved issues while they were alive." The grin faded from her lips and she turned her attention to Milt. "You're dying. From your appearance I'd say most likely cancer."

  Milt's eyes went wide and watery. "How did you know?"

  "I know all, I see all, sorta like a modern day Wizard of Oz, only I don't hide behind a curtain." She paused to consider her next words then she had an idea.

  "Listen, Milt, I'll make you a deal, if you tell me who killed Lucy I'll help you cross over when the time comes."

  One corner of Milt's mouth curled slightly. "Who said I'd have any problem crossing over?"

  "Trust me, Milt, I'm a professional. I always know." Amanda paused to wait for Milt to mull over her offer. Truth was she had no idea if he'd have problems, she didn't know enough about him. She made her offer on the scant bits of details she'd gleaned after meeting him, her special intuition, and what Gib and Lucy said about him.

  It wasn't much to go on, but she was betting even if she missed the mark she'd at least have nicked a corner of truth.

  Milt might not actually want to go wherever it was he was headed after death if he was a crooked cop and a murderer. In her experience the after life was never what people expected, or so her spirit contacts told her.

  Milt moved his wheelchair slightly back from the window the tires making a soft burr sound on the tiles. His head hung down to his chest. "OK, but please help me. I've done some stuff I'm not proud of..." His voice dropped off and a gasp escaped his lips. He looked up into her eyes trails made by tears ran down his sunken cheeks.

  Her heart ached for him. This man suffered from terrible soul crushing pain. She resolved to help him no matter what it took.

  "Why don't you tell me everything," she said softly.

  In a halting voice Milt began his story.

  Amanda listened intent on his words filled with raw emotion concerning things he obviously hadn't talked about in a very long time.

  She was right about his terminal cancer. Since Milt was nearing his eighty-ninth birthday he had already accepted the inevitable end.

  He assured Amanda he hadn't killed Lucy. Though he was jealous of Gib, and thought Lucy was too good for his partner, he couldn't hurt either of them. Years after Gib left the police force Milt and his new partner were offered substantial bribes from drug dealers to look the other way.

  Since his finances had been wiped out in a real estate scam, and his wife left him, he decided he deserved to retire in style, so he accepted the offers and managed to accrue a significant amount of money. "I was wrong. Money isn't what's important in life," he said.

  He then explained that while he didn't kill Lucy he knew who did, but had been threatened with exposure of his corruption if he revealed the truth. He'd remained silent since that time.

  Amanda's heart rate increased. Now she was getting somewhere. "Who wanted to send Gib a message by murdering his wife?"

  Milt looked down at the floor. "That's what he always believed, but it wasn't true. The killer wasn't sending him any message..." His voice caught.

  "OK, so if that wasn't the motive then why?"

  Milt sighed his breath shaky. "Someone wanted Lucy for themselves... someone powerful...dangerous. When Gib and Lucy said no he threatened to kill her."

  "Who?"

  He looked up at her through bloodshot eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but the intercom speaker in the ceiling cut him off. The announcers voice was feminine, nasally, and slightly annoying. "Residents, there are now lemon cookies and green tea available in the cafeteria where we will be starting the bingo game shortly. So join your fellow residents for a full filled afternoon."

  As the announcer spoke Amanda stood and walked to the window over looking the golf course her shoes scuffing over the tile. Watching two new golfers swinging at their balls reminded her what a silly game golf really was.

  When announcer had finished she shifted her eyes to look at Milt and froze. His face was the color a concord grape, he gasped for breath, his gnarled hands clasping at his throat.

  Her heart beating rapidly, Amanda searched frantically for the call button to summon assistance. Finally her eyes landed on a panel with three colored buttons on the wall over the single bed crammed into an alcove. She hurried to the panel and pressed the black button marked NURSES STATION. Nothing happened.

  There was a speaker on the panel under the buttons. The label under blue button to the left of the black button said it was for the intercom. Pressing the button and holding it in Amanda shouted into the speaker. "Help! I need help!"

  After she released the button a man's sluggish voice replied. "Alright, lady, take it easy."

  "No, you don't understand..." Milt had begun to make choking noises and he shuddered as air rushed from his lungs then his eyes rolled back in his head.

  Amanda froze her eyes wide with horror as Milt's gnarled hands frantically undid the seat belt holding him in the chair. He tried to stand but instead he slumped forward until finally collapsing to the floor. First on his knees until he dropped on his belly his face bouncing off the tiles with his
arms and legs sprawled out from his torso bent at unnatural angles.

  Milton Spender was dead.

  ***

  Amanda joined Phillip in the cafeteria where he sat alone at one end of a table large enough for ten people with a cinnamon bun and a white ceramic mug in front of him. Amanda was relieved there were very few people in cafeteria at this time of day since it was just after two o'clock in the afternoon. The last thing she needed was anyone to overhear their conversation then having to explain it. Most people did not understand or appreciate her work.

  She could see a few bites were missing from the cinnamon bun but the remainder was untouched. The mug, which she saw contained black coffee, was half empty, or was it half full?

  "No good?" she asked nodding at the bun after sitting in an empty chair across from Phillip.

  "Terrible," he said, "dry as the dust in a vacuum cleaner bag and the icing is so sweet it hurts your teeth." He shrugged and raised the mug to his lips to take a sip. "Coffee's okay though."

  "Milt's dead."

  Phillip had raised his mug intending to take another drink of coffee, but stopped a few inches from his mouth the mug floating. "What? How?"

  "He was terminal." She shrugged. "It was just a matter of time."

  Looking away so he couldn't see the sadness in her eyes she cleared her throat. The truth was she had never gotten used to death no matter how much she experienced in her job. And Milt's end was truly terrible.

  She secretly hoped she never would since helping the dead was her motivation to become a paranormal investigator in the first place.

  "Wow," said Phillip before he took a generous drink of coffee then set the mug on the table. "Did he say anything important before he died?"

  She nodded still avoiding him. "He said someone else wanted Lucy for themselves, and when she wouldn't agree he threatened to kill her."

  "So who was this person?"