Ghost Mortem (Ghost Detective #1) - Jane Hinchey Page 0,52

my feathers, having to get his permission. This was going to be a long twelve hundred hours.

"Thanks." I tried to keep my sarcasm to a minimum, but the snark was strong and he didn't miss it.

"You wanna back out?" he asked.

I shook my head. No, I did not. Without a word I pulled up the link to the PI school and began to fill out the online application. He watched in silence, then leaned forward, reading the screen.

"Your middle name is — ?"

"Don't you even!" I cut him off with a glare. "That name is never to be spoken. If we are going to have a successful working relationship we need to be very clear on this."

He jerked back in surprise, but a smile curled the edges of his mouth and that dimple flashed at me. Damn him. "Got it."

I finished filling it out and hit print. Galloway signed it. All that was left to do was mail it in and then wait to be formally admitted to PI School.

After I found the extra files he needed, I copied them on to a second USB and handed it over.

"Thanks." He took it from me and slid it in his pocket.

"Now what?" I asked.

"Now I go take down these corrupt bastards and you go interview Sophie Drake and read Baxter's journals," he drawled.

I frowned. "I know that." I huffed. "I meant...with us. How does this work?"

"Just call me when you need me. And don't do anything stupid. Or illegal," he added.

I followed him out of the office and to the front door. He left without saying goodbye and I watched from the front door as he crossed the lawn to his car. It was never going to be a hardship watching this man walk away. I sighed. Ben, who stood by my side, gave me an icy blast in the side, which I translated to be an elbow to the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," I whispered out the corner of my mouth. "Stop drooling."

Ben chuckled. "It's going to work out, Fitz. You'll see. You're going to ace PI school."

"I am?"

"How can you not? You've got Kade as your official supervisor, and then you've got me, who'll be working by your side every step of the way."

He had a point. "That almost feels like cheating."

"An advantage for sure," Ben agreed, "but you'll learn in this business to use everything and anything at your disposal to get the job done. And you have me. You can't fail."

"Oh God, don't say that! Murphy's Law kicks in whenever you say something like that," I protested.

A car door slammed and I turned my attention back to Galloway who gave me a wave before pulling away. I saw Mrs. Hill's curtains twitch again and frowned.

"What?" Ben asked, following my line of sight. "Problem?"

"No. Mrs. Hill is a busy body, for sure. I'm thinking if she's constantly got her nose glued to that window, then who better to ask about your visitors in the days leading up to your murder?"

Ben shrugged. "The police will have that under control. They've already got her statement."

He was right. And I was in no rush to go and speak with Mrs. Hill. It was doubtful she'd tell me anything, anyway, since I was her least favorite person on earth. Sighing, I returned inside, grabbed my bag and keys and it wasn't until I was pulling away in my 1970s Chrysler that I realized I'd forgotten to take Ben's car. Again.

"Sophie Drake?" I approached the blonde woman who was currently posing with duck lips taking selfie after selfie.

"Yeah?" She didn't even glance my way. Instead, she flipped through the images on her phone and bit out a sigh of frustration. "I'm off my selfie game today."

"Sorry to hear that." I wasn't, but then, she wasn't listening to me anyway.

"It's an assignment," she explained without looking up. "Social Media. I'm doing an essay on how to be an influencer."

"Right." Another minute passed. Then two. Okay, enough was enough. "Sorry to interrupt." I wasn't. "I'm Audrey Fitzgerald from Delaney Investigations. I was hoping I could ask you a couple of questions. It won't take long."

Her head jerked up and her blue eyes studied me, taking in my worn jeans, faded T-shirt, and flip-flops. The look on her face said she didn't approve of my fashion choices. "Who from who?" she asked.

"Audrey Fitzgerald," I repeated. "Delaney Investigations."

"What's that? Like, a health service or something?" She frowned.

I barked out a laugh, then realized she was serious. "Errr.