The Dead Speak Ill Of The Living (The Dead Speak Paranormal Mysteries Book 1) by Robert Wilde Page B

thought.
      
It was then that the Agent’s phone went off, she checked the caller, raised an
apologetic hand, said “I have to take this,” and rushed out of the room. And
down the stairs. And from the sound of it the front door too.
      
“Let’s get on with it.” Dee instructed as Joe deposited the rucksack carefully
on the ground and took the machine out. It was on in a trice and Joe asked “Is
there anybody there?”
      
“Could you not have thought of something original?”
      
“Sorry Miss Writer For A Living.”
      
“Hello,” came the digital voice.
      
“Are you male or female?” Dee asked.
      
“Male?”
      
“Okay, turn it off, “ and Dee stood to go.
      
“Wait, wait, you’ve got to help me!”
      
That got Dee’s attention. She turned and crouched down. “Go on.”
      
“I’ve been killed!”
      
“Oh really,” and Dee started recording.
      
“My brother did it, he killed me to inherit my estate.”
      
“A large estate?” Dee did the questioning, as she was trained to do.
      
“Yes, I’d won the lottery and not had a chance to spend it.”
      
“And who killed you?”
      
“My brother.”
      
“Harsh,” Joe commented.
      
“I see, and he’s got all your money?”
      
“Actually no. He didn’t realise, but I’d left all the money to Tompkins.”
      
“And that’s your partner?”
      
“What? No, Tompkins is my cat. Was my cat. Is my cat.”
      
“Joe, stop smirking at the client. So your cat is, what, a millionaire and your
brother is getting away with murder?”
      
“Yes.”
      
“And you want us to prove this and take it to the police?”
      
“No,” and the digital voice did pick up on the sound of sighing, “I want you to
kill him. I want revenge.”
      
“I don’t think we can do…” Joe said, but the voice cut him off.
      
“I can reward you. He hasn’t got all my money.”
      
“We aren’t killers…” Joe went on.
      
“How much money?” Dee said.
      
“Enough to buy this house.”
      
“But there are four of us…”
      
“Enough to buy a quarter of this house.”
      
“I see…”
      
“We’re considering this?” Joe asked Dee.
      
“That’s exactly what we’re going to do, we’re going to call the group and
consider this.”
      
“Just don’t harm Tompkins,” said the voice, concerned about something living at
least.  
      
      
Pohl relaxed back into one of Dee’s armchairs, looked at the cup of tea in her
hand, and knew that the host wouldn’t mind her bringing her own china. Which
she’d done, which was how Dee had seen an eggcup for the first time in about
twenty five years. But Pohl hadn’t bought her own tea as Dee’s selection was
always good, and she took a little sip of the piping hot drink. She was thus a
little surprised by what was said next.
      
“How do we all feel about murder?”
      
The foursome were all sat round, all with drinks, which was why Nazir almost
choked on his. “What did you say Joe?”
      
“Murder, any, err, major objections?”
      
Nazir thought, for a second, that someone had discovered something they
shouldn’t, but Dee took over.
      
“We’ve been hired. If we want to be hired. But there’s a problem.”
      
“You found a ghost which wants us to kill someone?” Pohl deduced.
      
“That’s it, yep.”
      
“You best tell us the whole story.”
      
And Dee did, with Joe adding the odd point, Estate Agent, Ghost, Cat and all.
Finally there was silence. Then Nazir gone to grips with it. “Tompkins is a
stupid name for a cat.”
      
“I think the elephant here is asking us to kill someone, rather than changing
the cat’s name.”
      
Dee nodded at Pohl to agree, but Nazir said “a cat which could buy us all up. I
expect at least something fluffy.”
      
“What did you tell him?”
      
Dee replied to Pohl, “that we’d discuss it.”
      
“And we’re sure he was