Ghost Mortem (Ghost Detective #1) - Jane Hinchey Page 0,25

will, Audrey. If something were to happen to you, the state would take a huge chunk of your assets because you died without one.”

“You’d need to have assets for that to be an issue,” I pointed out.

“Well”—he sounded almost cheerful about this—“now you do!”

Right. Now I had a four-bedroom house in a beautiful neighborhood, a Nissan Rogue, a cat, and apparently, a P.I. business. Oh, and I was responsible for any decisions concerning his dad. Not that that was an issue. I’d happily take on board Mr. Delaney’s well-being. Before he’d become ill he was an absolute sweetheart of a man. How would I tell him his son had died? No parent should have to bury their own children. It was heartbreaking.

“About your dad…”

“Don’t tell him,” Ben said. “He doesn’t remember me, hasn’t known who I am for over a year now. No need to upset him over something like this.”

“Something like this?” I protested. “Ben, he’s your dad. He has to know.”

“Does he though? Audrey, he lives in a world where he doesn’t have a wife or a son—he thinks he’s sixteen years old! Look, it’s just going to upset you more than it will him. The lawyers will notify the nursing home on the changes, and they’ll provide the new power of attorney documents. That’s all that needs to happen.”

I wasn’t convinced that was the right course of action, but Ben had a point. I could afford to wait, at least for a little while.

“I’m going to have to arrange your funeral, aren’t I?” It wasn’t that it would be a hardship. I’m a born organizer. It was just that it was another tangible truth. Ben was dead.

“Afraid so,” he grinned, unrepentant.

I snorted, turned the car onto the Esplanade, my eyes set on the Firefly Bay Hotel visible above the treeline.

"Where are you going?" Ben asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

I grinned. "I'm going to see what—or who—I can turn up at the hotel."

"Audrey," Ben warned.

"Don't ‘Audrey’ me," I grumbled. "I am now, officially, the owner of Delaney Investigations, and this is my first case. That requires me revisiting your open cases. You said so yourself."

"Yes, well…" He cleared his throat. "When I wrote that will I wasn't expecting to be dying anytime soon."

"Well, you did. Sucks to be you," I teased, tossing him a wink. "I wouldn't have to be doing any of this if you could only remember what happened. Or something useful, like the details of your open cases. I don't understand why you don't remember that." I'd descended from teasing to grumbling, beyond frustrated that Ben couldn't remember what he was working on. "Oh!" Another thought hit me. "You were working on something with Detective Galloway. But there was no record of it on your computer. What does that mean?"

"Off the books," he said darkly, brows drawn together in a frown.

"You were working—with a detective of all things—off the books?" My voice had gone up an octave in outrage. "Benjamin Delaney, how could you?"

"What?" he protested. "I've worked off the books before."

"Not that. I meant working with the cops. After the way they treated you?"

He sighed. "Audrey, you have to let that go. I have. I've moved on, no point dwelling on it."

"Ben, they squeezed you off the force—a job you loved. They lied. They made you look like a bad cop when we all know you weren't. It's appalling."

"I know, I know, but it's done."

"Corruption on the force is never done." I was just getting started, my indignation rising. "Look how Clements and Mills treated me, arresting me on the spot. Intimidation." I shook my head, my hair flipping around and whipping me in the eye. "Ow." Taking one hand off the wheel, I rubbed at my stinging eyeball, tucking my hair behind my ear to clear my vision.

"Audrey!" Ben yelled. A car horn sounded and I looked up in time to see a four-wheel-drive bearing down on us.

"Shit!" With a yank of the wheel, I got myself back onto the correct side of the road and cast a quick glance at Ben. "You okay?"

"Well, it's not like I can die again," he muttered. "But I'd prefer it if you didn't join me. Just...both hands on the wheel, eh, Fitz? Please."

"Pft, it was fine." But I gave in and wrapped my fingers around the steering wheel, tight, only because Ben looked like he might just soil himself and I wasn't sure what the end result would be. Ghostly slime? Who knew?