CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
Fairchild spotted Beatrice standing in the hallway next to his office door. He gave a slight moan and rolled his eyes; yet as he came closer he managed a bogus smile, “Good morning Ms. Reid, and what brings you here so bright and early?”
“I have new information about Alan’s death; he was murdered,” she said excitedly.
For a moment he had a surprised look come over his face as her news caught him off guard, but he steadied himself, knowing if her news involved him, surely she would have gone to the Chief. Fairchild opened his office door and motioned for her to enter and sit.
Making his way to his seat he asked, “This new information, what would that be exactly?”
“Alan’s ghost came to me last night and he said he was murdered, so you see he didn’t commit suicide. You need to start an investigation so you can catch his killer.”
“I know it’s been very hard on you these last few weeks, but I’m sorry to say I can’t change my report based on what you just told me. No one is going to believe, in your current state of mind, that you saw his ghost. It sounds more like you are just having a hard time letting go, and I understand…”
“I swear to god he was in my bedroom last night. He told me he was murdered. I’m not making this up, and I’m not distraught, he…”
“Uh, very well then, who did Alan’s ghost say killed him?” Fairchild wasn’t sure if he should follow this line of questioning or not, since it might open an ugly can-of-worms for him, so to speak.
“Well, he didn’t say who killed him, only that he was murdered and didn’t commit suicide. I swear I’m telling you the truth.” She was becoming frustrated at his non-belief with her new information.
Fairchild felt a sense of relief wash over him as she stated Alan’s so-called ghost did not finger him as his murderer, “I’m sorry Ms. Reid, but I’m not changing my report. To tell the truth, most folks around here just don’t believe in spooks or ghosts or such things. I think what you need is to get some rest and over time…”
“You’re not going to do anything about his murder?”
“Look, he wasn’t murdered, he killed himself. The coroner’s report proves it, as does our investigation. Just let it go. Move on with your…”
“If you won’t do your job, then I guess I’ll have to find his killer myself.” She folded her arms over her chest as if offering up a challenge.
“And just how will you go about that young lady?” Fairchild’s patience was growing very thin.
“Why, I’ll call Miss Stella and have her guide tell me who did it, yes, that’s just what I’ll do. I’ll get a reading and then we’ll know who killed Alan.” She stood and left his office in a huff.
Fairchild just stared as his mind raced. He wasn’t about to let her stir up trouble; especially if it would result in him going to the electric chair. She was acting very distraught, and should she commit suicide, most folks would simply say it was out of grief over the loss of her true love, he thought. If nothing better came to mind, he would give serious thought to plotting her demise, and the sooner the better he felt.