Ryley blinked, and the image was gone.
Had that been her imagination or had Kitty put that image in her head? “Neat trick.”
There was an instant when it felt like the pool house was inhaling, a pregnant pause. Suddenly, Ryley’s arms felt like razor blades were carving paths in her flesh. Her breath froze as she tried to make sense of the phantom pain.
“Get out.” The words were screamed in Ryley’s mind, scratching her subconscious like cut glass.
“Ouch.” She growled and lifted her sleeve. Two red lines formed on her skin resembling the track of fingernails. “Son of a…that was unnecessary. You want to play?
Ryley held her arm and moved back into the room and yanked the sheet from the easel, exposing the canvas beneath.
Her breath caught, and she covered her mouth with her hand.
Chapter 21
Attached to the canvas with a tack was a picture. A man and woman were lying on a bed, naked from the waist up. The picture was taken through a curtain into a room Ryley recognized.
Only the woman in this picture wasn’t Kitty. It was Rosalind.
And the man wasn’t the guy from the hotel; it was Kitty’s husband, Christopher Lynch.
“What’s that they say about keeping your friends close but your enemies closer?” Stretch said, appearing next to Ryley. “Those two look might cozy.”
“Where were you? A spirit just attacked me.” She lifted her arm and shook it in front of Stretch’s face.
Stretch waved in dismissal. “You’re still in one piece. Your precious doctor should have warned you she’s the bad influence.”
It was in that moment Ryley realized her trusted shrink was just as guilty at being an imperfect human, just like Ryley and Stretch. It should have brought her comfort to know they were cut from the same cloth. It didn’t.
She frowned at the realization.
Was this a setup? Why hadn’t Kitty wanted Ryley to look? It was incriminating. The picture would have pointed fingers.
Ryley yanked the picture off and opened the manilla envelope holding pictures of Kitty’s affair. She was about to stuff the picture inside when she paused at the words stamped on the back. Logan Bane, PI. “Man, he gets around.”
“If only I wasn’t dead. I’d fight you for him.” Stretch chuckled.
With a scowl at her ghost sidekick, Ryley slid the picture inside the envelope and closed the latch. Christopher and Rosalind were huddled together in the kitchen when Ryley returned. Their heated discussion stopped the second Ryley opened the door.
“I have to go,” Ryley headed toward the front door without making eye contact with either cheater.
Rosalind’s heels clicked on the tile as she hustled after her.
“Well?” Rosalind put her hand on the door frame, stopping Ryley from getting in her car.
Ryley ground her molars together, seething at how her shrink was trying to play her. “I have one question,” Ryley said, trying hard to rein in her anger. “You know I’m not one to judge. God knows I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”
“Ryley, what is it?”
“You’re sleeping with Christopher Lynch. Your client’s husband?” Ryley shook her head in disgust. “When did it start? Was it after the first meeting, or did you wait until Kitty started having her own affair?” God, the ethics of it stunned Ryley.
Rosalind’s mouth parted.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought,” Ryley said and glanced upward. Phillip was back in the window, watching them. “Listen. I will help Kitty cross over, but I can’t do that if you keep secrets from me. No wonder she’s haunting you.”
“How did you know?” Rosalind asked.
“She had a private investigator, and someone attached the picture to her easel. As if she was about to paint it. I would have considered it incriminating evidence if she hadn’t tried to stop me from looking at it. It was like she didn’t want me to see it.”
“Do you think if that picture had been found, it would have framed Christopher and me?”
Phillip vanished from the window. She snorted. “I think had the picture been there when the police took Kitty’s body out, one or both of you would be in jail.”
“How did it get there?” Rosalind asked, wrapping her arms around her body.
“Maybe the kid? Maybe one of the maids? I don’t know the answer to that, but I’ll be sure and ask Kitty when she starts talking to me,” Ryley said, climbing into her car.
She drove to her home across town, locked the pictures in her car, then grabbed a change of clothes.
When she walked into the bar, Kent was carrying a stack of clean glasses, and prepping for their busy night. “Sorry, I was running late.”
“Tell me it’s because a date went so well that you were getting lucky. One of us should be getting lucky.” Kent chuckled.
“Not quite. More of dealing with things that go bump in the night. I’m going to change, and then I’ll help you,” she called out.
The second she stepped into the bathroom, and locked the door, a chill skirted her spine. The feeling of being watched overwhelmed her. “Getting your jollies by watching me in the afterlife is no way to get through the pearly gates.”
Her comment was met with silence, but the chill dissipated. Changing the tee-shirt she’d been wearing to the tank top sporting the bar’s name with a v cut into the neckline, she sighed mentally. As far as uniforms, it was a bit spicy, but nothing too provocative.
She stuffed the shirt in her bag and gathered her hair in a ponytail before unlocking the door and heading back into the office, where she tossed her bag for safekeeping.
The night passed in a busy blur. Wednesday night specials and the band playing always brought in a good crowd, and there was a wide variety of cliques in the house. The cowboys straddled their chairs on one side of the room. The frat boys loud and obnoxious occupied the middle causing a ruckus from too many drinks, and the nine-to-fivers were congregated and talking shop at the table at
