Cope noticed the reporter didn’t have a camera or a cameraman with him as he’d done yesterday. He knew he could very well have a recording device on him. After tricking him into coming to this motel, Cope wouldn’t put anything past the man.
“Surprise, it’s Chet Hines.” Jude sounded ready for a fight.
“Why do you all look like you’re about to kick my ass?” Hines took a seat in an empty chair.
“The game is up, asshole. We know you were the one who sent me the email tricking us into coming up here. I’m also guessing you’re the one who’s paying for our rooms?” Jude crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, that was me,” Hines said, not breaking eye contact with Jude.
“Explain it all. Now!” Cope wasn’t usually the rude or the loud one, but his entire Labor Day weekend had been hijacked by this man who was running an agenda of his own. One that Cope was ill-prepared to handle. Tennyson was the one who’d been working cold cases for the last seven years or so. Cope had only done it once or twice.
Hines sighed. “My godfather is Dan Rather.”
“Who?” Jude asked.
“He hosted the evening news on CBS, I think,” Fitzgibbon said. “He was part of the big three in the eighties and nineties, Tom Brokaw, Peter Jennings, and Dan Rather.”
Cope had heard those names, but to be honest, they didn’t mean much to him. “Okay, so your godfather is a television reporter.”
“Not just a reporter—one of the greatest newsmen this country has ever seen. My father worked for CBS. He wrote a lot of the copy that was read on air to the American people. He’s won eight Peabody Awards. I have one, but he’d already earned five by the time he was my age. I’ve only worked for newspapers here in Maine and now for the ABC affiliate out of Bangor. Do you have any idea how down-market my station is?” Hines shook his head. “The Cyrus Longfellow case is the biggest news story of mycareer. It’s probably the biggest news story to hit Old Orchard Beach since a prize-winning bull broke out of its pen back in 1976 during the Bicentennial celebration and was on the run for three weeks. This is a Podunk town in a Podunk state. I want something bigger for me, for my career, and solving this case is the key to that bigger thing. I’ve done my research, Cope. I know who you are and what you’ve done to help people over the years with your gift. I had a friend who met with you in Canada a few years back when you were involved with the family members of some of the passengers who were lost onTitanic. You’re thebestthere is at what you do.”
Cope sighed heavily, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Okay, let me get this straight. You have ambitions to get out of Maine and break into a bigger news market. So instead of working your ass off and sending your resume to every larger market television station in this country, you conned my husband into bringing our family here? You involved my six-year-old son and one-year-old daughter in a murder case for your own personal gain. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Hines dropped his head. “I’m not proud of my actions.”
“Bullshit,” Jude muttered. “You got exactly what you wanted, but I’ve got breaking news for you, asshole. You’re not getting the answers you want.”
Hines’ attention moved to Cope. “Are you saying Cyrus didn’t make contact with you last night?” He wore the look of a desperate man, as if he knew all of his machinations were for naught.
“Oh, he showed up all right. Gave my son night terrors. If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never forget the sound of my little boy screaming.” Jude could hear the sound in his head. There was no way he was going to subject his son to another night like that justso the asshat sitting in front of him could win some award that would make him seem worthy in his own eyes and to those in his family.
“I’m sorry that happened to your son, Cope. I had no idea Cyrus would act that way. I’ve never read or heard of any guests of the motel reporting that kind of behavior.”
Cope didn’t believe the reporter for one second. “That’s because all those reports and sightings are bullshit stories cooked up by people who want their fifteen minutes of fame. Cyrus told me he’s tried to communicate with every ghost hunter or enthusiast that stayed in room 13, and until last night, no one could communicate with him.”
“Are you saying you had a conversation with the ghost of Cyrus Longfellow?” Hines’ eyes widened, taking on an almost crazed look.
Cope nodded. “He told me all about his exploits in life and in death. He told me that he knows who killed him and will never tell anyone. He also is very happy staying where he is at the motel and has no intention of ever crossing over. Cyrus has a level of fame he never had in life and doesn’t want to give that up.”
“He knows who killed him, and he won’t say a word?” Hines’ mouth hung open in obvious shock. “Why wouldn’t you want people to know? Why wouldn’t you want to be avenged? What the hell is wrong with him?”
“Spirits have their own agendas, Mr. Hines.” If Cope had a nickel for every time he’d said that over his career, he could buy an island in the Caribbean and live like a king. “Cyrus has his full mental faculties, just like he did when he still had a pulse. He has dreams and goals, again, just like he did when he was alive.I don’t know about you, but there’s no one on Earth that could convince me to do something I didn’t want to do. It’s the gift of being an adult. I go where I want, when I want, and not even my husband can control me. Let’s face it, that’s exactly what you want to do with Cyrus. You want to control him so that he’ll give you the information you need in order to launch your career into the next level, and Cyrus wants no part of it. His spirit isn’t a circus clown, there to amuse you. He’s not a trained seal who will bark or do tricks on command. He’s a restless spirit who, even after being brutally murdered, is still lost in a life of sex, debauchery, and hedonism. Cyrus doesn’t owe you, me, the owner of the motel, or anyone else anything.”
Hines slumped in his seat, wearing a dejected look on his face. To Cope, the man looked like he’d just lost his best friend.
“Did you kill Cyrus Longfellow?” Ronan asked with his game face on.
“What?” Hines shrieked. “Are you crazy? Why would I kill Cyrus?”
“Because he refused your advances,” Jude said with a smile.
“How did you know that?” Hines looked absolutely lost.
“Cyrus told me last night,” Cope said. “It crossed my mind that being rejected is a common trigger to violence.”
Hines mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, with no sound coming out.
“If we find out it was you, I won’t hesitate to call the police and have you brought in,” Fitzgibbon said.
