The case was deemed unsolvable. And that’s when Liz Trevor gained notoriety for her relentless pursuit. It caused a rippled effect. No partner. No children. No pets. And very few friends.
The missing was no longer missing. Liz persisted that the missing person was not missing at all, as his distraught wife had thought to be. It took fourteen long months, many sleepless nights, and a bushel full of money to find the so-called victim. Of course, he was none too happy when Liz found his hiding spot. It meant Charles Weston, a hedge fund analyst who not only embezzled money from investors but defrauded an insurance company, would stand trial. The guilty verdict saddled Charles Weston with a lengthy prison sentence and “restitution.”
This case put Liz Trevor in the spotlight. Something she did not like at all. Her private investigation agency consisted of three people; two were distant cousins who needed a job. Unlike what people thought of Liz, she had a huge heart and a nose to solve the impossible. She was so good at her job that the dead manipulated her into taking care of their unfinished business. But unlike living clients, the dead never paid the bill.
Liz knew instantly when a spirit needed her help. She could smell them—the smell of salt. Her sense of smell magnified beyond the normal sensory perception of living people. Both cousins, Hayley Walters, and Andrea Foster, assumed Liz had a special connection to those who were “in-between” and the need to finish “business” before being able to find their way into the light. So, when Liz set them down to inform them of their next case, it came to no one’s surprise.
“Ladies, what we have here is a typical cold case,” said Liz as she handed Hayley and Andrea each a manila folder. “Inside, you will see the details of the unfortunate death of Leslie Higgins, age 23, classified as a homicide back in 1982. There was little evidence collected. A piece of rope was used to bind her wrists and the chain from around Ms. Wiggin’s neck. Cause of death—strangulation. Other than these two pieces of evidence, nothing else had been collected by the local police. Granted, DNA wasn’t even conceived back then, so there may have been other clues or evidence. It wasn’t a surprise when the detectives could not solve the murder.”
Hayley and Andrea scanned over the typed notes. Each remained silent. “A reward was offered, which resulted in no leads whatsoever. Ms. Higgins had just arrived in Sarasota, Florida, a week before her death. No next of kin is listed. Her parents died when she was twelve. She grew up in an orphanage in Jersey. By eighteen, she decided to try her luck in New York City. There, she spent the next four years of her life as a freelance journalist,” explained Liz.
“What made her decide to move to Sarasota?” asked Hayley as she closed the folder. She removed a piece of gum from her jeans and shoved it into her mouth. Andrea’s hand shot out toward Hayley. “Sorry, Hayley. It was my last stick,” she said with a forced smile. Andrea’s eyes narrowed at her cousin.
“A job. The Sarasota Gazette sent Higgins a letter and asked her to cover a story for them. They were short on investigative journalists. I guess Higgins was good at what she did for a living.” Liz leaned back in her high-back chair.
Hayley sighed and then snapped her gum. “Is this a paying client?” Andrea placed her folder on the desk.
“What difference does it make? You still get paid. I don’t hear Andrea complaining,” replied Liz.
“Well, cuz, is this one dead or alive?” asked Andrea. She already had her iPad out scrolling.
“Dead…and she doesn’t want to reveal her killer,” added Liz. Both younger women looked at one another.
“That’s messed up,” commented Andrea. “Who wouldn’t want to give up the name of their killer? I thought that was the whole purpose of this…whatever we do…I guess we call it justice, but to them…as in the dead, we give closure so they can move on up!” She put her hands up in the air.
“I know. It’s frustrating. I asked her several times to no avail. She won’t give up the name,” said Liz.
“Why are we wasting our time then? We have a butt load of cases from paying clients who want to help in any way they can. Unlike the dead…making it more difficult for us,” said Hayley. Her cybersecurity and IT data analyses degrees were crucial in solving crimes and searching for lost people.
“It’s not a waste, Hayley. I get it. People who are stuck here instead of there,” said Andrea, pointing to the ceiling. “They deserve justice, too.” The twenty-three-year-old crossed her arms. A blond ponytail swung behind her round head. With a pair of huge wire-rimmed glasses perched on her tiny nose, she looked more like a scientist than a forensic and digital evidence technician.
Hayley uncrossed her long, muscular legs. She stood almost six feet tall. With short brown hair and a lanky upper body, she looked like a track star even at forty-eight. “You’re nothing but a bleeding heart, cuz.”
Liz stared at her cousins. The only family she had on this earth—alive. Unlike either of them, she had the instinct of a natural tracker. And, of course, she had her unusual ability to converse with the dead. Even at the delicate age of sixty-five, Liz knew her job would take her beyond the normal expectations of private investigating. Her short, round stature and white-cropped hair made her look like a typical grandmother. But there was nothing typical about Liz.
“Let’s take a vote,” insisted Liz. “All in favor of a living client, raise your hand.” Hayley raised her long arm. “All those in favor of a dead client, raise your hand.” Two hands shot up.
Hayley rolled her eyes as she crossed her arms. “There’s nothing easy about this case. I still feel it wastes our time when we have so many other ‘doable’ cases. But majority rules.” She shrugged her shoulders.
Andrea and Liz smiled. They knew their cousin was a softy down deep inside, even though she tried to conceal it. And with nothing left to say, all three women got to work.
The Leslie Higgins homicide would prove to be one of the most difficult cases the Salt & Pepper Private Investigators Agency tackled in their fifteen years of existence. Even though it had been only eight years since Andrea Foster joined her cousins, she had proven a valuable asset. There was no denying her solid background, entailing forensic and digital evidence. It had cost Liz a pretty penny regarding the electronic and technical equipment needed to support Andrea’s investigative skills. But in the end, it had seemed to be its weight in gold.
Hayley had researched the dead women’s background as far back as she could, considering there was no mainstream internet until the 1990s. Finding out about the life of Leslie Higgins would have to be investigated the old-fashioned way. She had already booked a flight to Sarasota, Florida.
“You’re leaving tonight?” asked Liz. Her desk was cluttered with stacks of paper. She liked having things at her fingertips.
“Yes. I’ll be at the Marriot. I’m hoping it won’t take me more than a few days to track down a relative or even a friend of hers. When will you be arriving?” asked Hayley. Liz was busy scribbling notes down on a yellow legal pad.
“In a couple of days. I want to visit the Sarasota Police Department and talk with their cold case detective. I might be able to even speak with the first officer on the scene—if he’s still alive.” Liz gave a half grin.
“How will you explain to them why you are investigating a cold case?” asked Andrea as she walked into the office, snapping her gum.
“Most of the time, I don’t. They are happy someone else is looking at a case that remains unsolved. I wing it,” explained Liz. Suddenly, she could smell it—salt. She abruptly stood up with her nose in the air.
“Are you kidding me? She’s…she’s here?” whispered Andrea. Liz always smelled the apparition before seeing it. A ghostly swirl faded in and out in the corner next to the steel drawer cabinet.
The other two women followed Liz’s gaze. They couldn’t smell or see anything. But remained still and silent.
“Leslie…we need your help. I know you don’t want to reveal the killer. I’m not sure why that is. But we need your help?” asked Liz. She narrowed her eyes. The woman’s body was transparent. A linked chain hung around her neck, then disappeared below. The smell of salt intensified, and Liz thought for a brief moment she might sneeze. The woman’s hand outstretched into emptiness. A rope dangled from her wrist.
“Leslie, please. We know about the chain and rope. What else are we missing? You need to guide us in the right direction.” But as Liz took a step forward, the apparition dissipated into nothingness. The smell of salt lingered in the air.
“Did she give you any other clues?” asked Hayley. She remained seated behind her desk.
“Unfortunately, no. She keeps showing me the chain and rope. I’m hoping they still have the evidence collected at the scene. But any good detective knows to resubmit the items for DNA,” explained Liz. She plopped down back into her worn chair.
“Now you know why I don’t like working for dead clients. Plus, they don’t pay—at all!” said Hayley.
“It’s so amazing watching you, Liz. It’s freaky. I wish I could see them like you do,” exclaimed Andrea wide-eyed.
“Well, I smell them more than anything. I have to figure out what she’s trying to tell me. She keeps showing the same thing over and over. We’re missing something. Maybe once we’re down in Florida…” Liz didn’t bother to finish. She ran her hand through her thin grey hair.
Hayley arrived in Sarasota by midnight and headed straight to the Marriot after picking up her rental. She was surprised by the nightlife. People packed inside the hotel’s bar. After checking in, she decided on a nightcap. Her loose blouse and tight jeans were a bit out of place. Many of the patrons were dressed for a fancy night out. But it didn’t stop Hayley. She couldn’t care less about being stared at. She was used to it. Her height made her an oddity before anything else.
She squeezed in and found an open stool. She then ordered a dry martini. Hayley rarely drank. But this was a special occasion. It marked her fifteenth year of private eye sluicing with her cousin. One she stumbled upon by pure chance. She sipped her drink and glanced around. People were laughing and conversing with one another. Music piped from above.
“Excuse me,” said a voice next to her. She turned to look at the man beside her. He was attractive by all standards. He was almost as tall as she and, from his manly looks, roughly the same age. His short black hair was streaked with grey, giving him a “Sam Elliot” look. He had a shaven face and a single stud in his left ear. Definitely a man of this century. His body is lean and muscular. A dark blue shirt and tie with dress jeans that fit snug. He smiled as he watched Hayley look him up and down.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he said, moving a tad closer. Hayley turned to face the bar as she sipped her drink. She did not answer the man.
“I’m sorry. Bad pick-up line. I’ll leave you alone. Enjoy your drink,” he said as he turned to move away from her.
Hayley was by no means looking for male companionship. Her job filled her life. But sometimes, she needed distractions. Maybe she could justify him to be just that—a distraction.
“Sure!” she called out to him. He abruptly stopped and stepped back towards her. By now, the music had died down.
“My name is Jim Neighbors.” He held out his hand. Hayley reciprocated immediately. It was warm and soft.
“As in Mayberry, the television sitcom?” asked Hayley, still holding his large hand in hers. He released his grip and smiled.
“I get that all the time. My last name is spelled N-E-I-G-H-B-O-R-S. And I can’t sing,” said Jim.
“I’m Hayley, spelled H-A-Y-L-E-Y. And I can’t sing either.” They both chuckled together. She placed her empty glass down on the bar. Jim signaled the bartender.
“What can I get you?” asked the middle-aged man.
“Another for the lady…and I’ll take whatever is on tap,” said Jim. He placed a fifty-dollar bill on the counter. The bartender swiped it up, then moved down a bit to make Hayley’s drink. A couple of minutes later, he returned with both drinks and change.
“Thanks,” said Jim and left a ten for a tip. He gulped the beer and winced.
Hayley watched him before taking a sip from her glass. She was not used to drinking, and one was definitely enough. Jim wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“Do you live here in Sarasota?” asked Jim.
“I don’t know,” replied Hayley. She never gave out information. There were predators everywhere.
“I see. I get it. You’re not going to answer any questions, are you?” he said, tilting his head. Hayley stared into his dark blue eyes.
“No…I’m not. I appreciate the drink, but I have to go.” Hayley slipped off the chair. Jim backed up into another man.
“Hey…asshole…watch it!” said the intoxicated man.
“Sorry, buddy,” replied Jim. He lifted his hands in the air.
“I’m not your buddy, idiot.” The drunk man shoved Jim knocking into Hayley.
“Come on now, take it easy. Just call it a night.” Jim turned to face Hayley. The inebriated guy lifted an empty glass from the bar to swing at the back of Jim’s head. Hayley was quick. In three consecutive moves, the drunk man was lying on the floor, trying to figure out how he got there.
“Go home and sleep it off,” shouted Hayley standing above the dazed stranger. Jim couldn’t believe what just happened. This woman took a drunk man to the floor in seconds. A wide smile crawled across his face.
Hayley stepped over the man as a crowd gathered. She pushed people aside and walked away. Jim hurriedly followed her through the lobby of the hotel.
“Wait up, Hayley!” called Jim. Hayley glanced back over her shoulder. She stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the number three.
“Where did you learn to do that?” asked Jim. Hayley let out a sigh.
“You seem like a nice guy…but I’m not that kind of girl. I hope you get lucky, Jim; it just won’t be with me. Goodnight.” The doors of the elevator swished open. Jim stepped back as Hayley entered the elevator. He couldn’t help smiling as the doors slowly closed.
Liz Trevor’s flight was bumpy. The storm delayed the landing in Sarasota. She arrived two hours late. Hayley remained in her hotel room working on the information she did have. Liz had texted late last night stating she would be arriving first thing in the morning. But as usual, the weather did not cooperate.
Liz glanced at her cell phone then sent a quick text to Hayley. She headed for the baggage area to pick up her suitcase. By then, Hayley should be waiting outside. Almost twenty minutes later, Liz stood outside in the heat. The humidity soared above normal for this time of year. Early August was always hot—but then again so were the rest of the months for the state of Florida.
Hayley had rented an SUV. She maneuvered over to the side lane marked “arrivals.” Liz was standing there busily looking at her cell phone.
“Need a ride?” called Hayley through the passenger window. Liz glanced up at her cousin. She was happy that the two of them were close. Almost like sisters.
“How are you?” asked Liz as she opened up the back door and slung her small bag inside.
“Fine. I was surprised by your text. How were you able to get a flight out so quick?” asked Hayley. Liz slipped into the front seat and shut the door. Hayley put her blinker on and proceeded to blend in with the exiting traffic from the busy airport. Minutes later there were racing down the freeway.
Liz glanced around at the scenery. It had been a while since she had been in Florida. In fact, the last time, it did not end so well.
“They had a cancellation. I snagged it. A bit pricey, but that’s nothing new. Anyway, I want to get to the Sarasota Police Station as soon as possible. I’ll check in at the hotel later. What are your plans for today?” asked Liz.
Hayley moved in and out of traffic with ease. The sun was beating down through the windshield. Both women were glad they brought sunglasses.
“I was planning on driving around where Leslie Higgins stayed the brief period she was here. Maybe someone remembers her or the unsolved murder,” replied Hayley.
“Good idea. Can you drop me off at the station?” asked Liz. Hayley gave a slight nod. The outside of the police station was a standard brick building. There was a parking lot attached to the side. Hayley pulled the rental in and left the engine running.
“Text me when you’re finished. I’ll come back and pick you up.” Hayley released the door lock. Liz opened the door.
“Good luck. Hopefully, someone remembers something.” Liz got out of the car and strolled to the side door of the station. Seconds later, Hayley had blended into the traffic.
Liz tried the door and it was locked. She hurried to the front glass door. It opened with ease. As she stepped into the police station lobby, she noticed the cameras above. An officer sat at a huge desk behind a bulletproof partition. She looked like she was in her early twenties fresh out of the academy.
“May I help you?” she asked with a smile. Liz smiled back.
“Yes. My name is Liz Trevor. I’m here to see the cold case detective on staff.”
“Do you have an appointment?” asked the female officer.
“No. I’m from Cleveland, Ohio. I’m a private investigator with the Salt & Pepper Agency. We’re working on a cold homicide case,” explained Liz.
The young dispatcher gave a slight nod. “Give me a moment. You’ll want to speak with Detective Jim Neighbors. Have a seat. I’ll see if he is in.” And before Liz could say another word, the dispatcher was on the phone.
Liz sat down in one of the empty chairs. She took out her phone to text Hayley. Suddenly, the side door buzzed open. A handsome man in his mid to late forties, tall, lean, and muscular, stepped into the lobby. His square jaw and groomed hair accentuated his male appearance. Tight jeans, shirt and tie, and cowboy boots. A gold badge hung from his belt along with the black holster on his hip.
“I’m Detective Jim Neighbors. What can I help you with, ma’am?” he strolled up to Liz and outstretched his large hand. Liz stood up and shook the detective’s hand.
“I’m Liz Trevor, a private investigator with the Salt & Pepper Agency in Cleveland, Ohio,” she replied
“You’re a long way from home, ma’am. We don’t get too many PI’s here in Florida. How can I help you, Ms. Trevor?” asked Jim as he crossed his arms.
“Please…call me Liz. Is there a place we can talk privately, Detective Neighbors?” asked Liz.
“May I ask what this is in reference to?” asked Jim.
“The Leslie Higgins cold case from 1982.” Jim’s eyes widened. He had reviewed the murder book more than once.
“You’ve got my attention. Let’s go back into one of the empty interview rooms.” He gestured to Liz towards the locked door. A buzz sounded seconds later. Jim held the door open for Liz, then took the lead. They walked down the narrow hallway to the last room on the left. He punched in a code, and it opened. Inside sat a small square table and three folding chairs.
“Please have a seat,” said the detective. She sat down across from Jim.
“I won’t take up too much of your time, Detective Neighbors. Would it be possible for me to look at the Leslie Higgins murder book?” asked Liz.
Jim studied the older woman. He could use of new set of eyes. But he had to make sure of her identity. But before he could say another word, Liz had pulled out her ID and credentials. She slid them over to Jim.
Jim gave a slight nod and examined the documents then looked back up at Liz. “We don’t get too many private investigators looking into our cold cases. In fact, I don’t remember any. Usually, it has to do with a missing person or civil cases concerning child custody.” He slid her papers back.
Liz immediately placed them back within her worn leather briefcase. “I was hoping to review the murder book.” She waited for his response.
“We don’t normally ‘share’ information, especially when the case is open. May I ask your interest in Leslie Higgins? Especially since you are from Ohio.” He leaned back tilting the folding chair.
“Let’s just say…I’m looking into for a friend.” Liz did not give up any more information.
“That’s pretty vague. Did you know Leslie Higgins?” he asked.
“No…not while she was alive,” replied Liz. “Detective Neighbors, have you made any progress on the cold case?” He let out a sigh.//
If you would like to read the entire novella you may download it FREE HERE.
About the Author
Alice Baburek is an avid reader, determined writer and animal lover. She lives with her female partner and four canine companions. Retired, she challenges herself to become an unforgettable emerging voice.
About the Author
