Chapter 1

Brenda lay on her stomach, groggy from lack of sleep. She had hardly slept since moving out of the hotel and into 707 Edgemere. When she did manage to fall asleep, she had horrible nightmares about all sorts of men pulling at her. In her waking moments Brenda wouldn't have given any of them the time of day. Will had noticed her sluggishness at work and had suggested it might have been a bad idea to buy a house where someone had been murdered. Normally Brenda would have agreed. She wasn't completely insane. But the girl that was Zoya Petrovna had touched something inside her. It wasn't so much that she wanted to be near the girl's spirit but somehow she felt she owed her – as crazy as that sounded.

Brenda dragged herself out of bed and stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee. She smiled. The kitchen was her favorite room in the house. Zoya may have been young and a prostitute but she did well in renovating the house with granite countertops, maple cabinets, and hardwood floors that gleamed.

After she got her first whiff of the coffee as it trickled into the pot, Brenda went into the living room to do a few sit-ups with her eyes closed. As hard as she had tried she had never been able to give up her affinity for sweets, which she ate when under stress or to reward herself for a job well done. In her job she was usually stressed and she always closed her cases, so, she regularly made herself do a few sit-ups. She was thin and wiry and wanted to stay that way. However, this morning after five sit-ups she collapsed backwards on the mat and opened her eyes. That's when she noticed the tell tale stain on the ceiling.

"Oh, no," she groaned. It had been raining for three days now, ever since she had moved into the house. "Now I'm going to have to pay someone to fix the ceiling! Darnit!" She pulled herself up when the doorbell rang.

Brenda peeked out and saw a man in work clothes. "Yes?" she said, opening the door slightly.

"It's me, Jesus," the man said, making a move to come inside.

"Do I know you?"

"You better know me, you owe me money" Jesus laughed. He stopped laughing and peered at Brenda closely. "Wait, who are you?"

Brenda didn't usually like to pull rank but she thought this situation called for it. "I'm Deputy Chief Brenda Lee Johnson. That means I'm a cop, a high ranking cop, who will not be extorted—"

"Extorted? I don't know what that is but I do know the young lady who lives here owes me seven thousand dollars for the work I did in the kitchen."

Brenda's first impulse was to compliment him on the great job he had done but now didn't seem like the appropriate time. "Well, Jesus, I'm sorry to tell you that the young woman you're referring to is not able to pay you. She's dead."

He tried peeking over her shoulder into the house. "She don't seem the type to skip out on paying me but are you sure she's dead? "

"I can send you the crime scene photos. Stabbed in the back with a serrated blade." She shook her head in disbelief. "Don't you read the papers or watch the news?"

"I've been out of the country. Dominican Republic to see my family. I just got back yesterday. I only came back now because Ms. Petrovna said she'd have the rest of my money today and I could finish touching up the work."

"Well, as I've said, Ms. Petrovna no longer resides at this residence, and as far as touching up the work is concerned . . ." Brenda thought on the leak. She couldn't get him to fix it and not pay him the seven grand. Still, it didn't seem right not to pay him. But she didn't have seven grand. "I'm sorry, Jesus. You're getting soaked and I have to get to work." She attempted to close the door but he stuck his foot in.

"I'm sorry too, Miss, but I need my money."

"I kindly thank you to take your foot out of my door before I have to arrest you for trespassing!"

Jesus paused for a long moment then slowly pulled his foot out of the doorway. "You don't pay me my money?"

"I don't owe you any money. That was Ms. Petrovna, and she's dead, remember? Good day now," Brenda said as sweetly as she could manage and closed the door. She let out a deep sigh and went into the kitchen to get her coffee. She really should pay Jesus. She looked in the pantry and found a bucket to put underneath what she was sure would soon be a leak.