Page 14

He grins. “True, and a fact my mama calls to remind me of daily since I arrived.” He schools his features into a more serious expression. “The big professional reason is that I host a podcast called Beau’s Boos and Beyond. It focuses on the supernatural and sharing some of my experience and wisdom with like-minded folks, and I’ve always wanted to pursue stories outside of my home state.”

I make a mental note to check that out later.

“The other reason is more typical. I haven’t seen much of the world and wanted to travel outside my little bubble back home in a big way. England’s always been interesting to me. Mama and I watched all the seasons of Downton Abbey together. And lately, we’ve been binge-watching Midsomer Murders.” He pauses. “There can’t really be that many murders in the countryside here, right?”

I choke back a laugh. “If movies and TV shows like those are what have informed your ideas about England, I dare not ask what you think about Scotland.”

Beau waggles his eyebrows. “I’ve seen Braveheart and Highlander. All I know is Scotsmen in kilts is where it’s at, honey.”

That manages to get a little snort of laughter out of me, which he seems delighted by.

I school my expression. “Let’s get back to the whole ghost whisperer thing. You’re seriously not put off by any of this supernatural stuff? Doesn’t any of it scare you?”

It sure as shit scared me when I saw my first ghost after being medically brought back to life.

Beau considers my questions as he drains the last of his beer. “Like I said, it’s always been a part of my existence. I guess you could say it’s just something I live with. Admittedly, it can be difficult at times. As you might imagine, ghosts wanting my attention while I’m with fellow members of the living can create quite a pickle if I talk back to them. Folks think I’m off my rocker, but if I don’t respond, some spirits can become awfully darn persistent in ways that can get disruptive. I’ve certainly lost some friends and partners over the years because of it.” His smile turns sad. “For those who can’t see beyond the Veil and remain oblivious to those spirits still lingering in this world, it’s mighty hard to understand what you and I can see plain as day. That expression seeing is believing is most people’s reality.” He arches an eyebrow. “I imagine you haven’t met anyone who gives a whole lot of credence to what you might have told them about being able to see ghosts, now have you?”

I have to grimace at that. He’s not wrong. Liz believes that I believe I can see them, but she won’t be jumping on the supernatural phenomena bandwagon anytime soon.

“My former colleagues think I’ve gone round the bend.”

I quickly learned that allegiances don’t last when you share something like being able to see the supernatural.

Beau tilts his head. “Former colleagues?”

I drain the rest of my pint and look away. “I used to be a detective inspector for the Met. It was my life until I was involved in an incident while on the job. I was injured pretty badly, enough that my heart stopped beating for nearly two minutes until the EMTs arrived and were able to revive me.”

That’s when I started seeing things that I’d never seen in my entire life.

Beau reaches out and takes hold of my hand, startling me. I look into his sympathetic eyes, mesmerized once more.

Damn this inconveniently timed attraction!

“I’m so sorry that happened to you, honey. It must have been terrifying.”

His hand is warm on mine, and it sends a tingle of awareness up my arm that I try to ignore.

I don’t like to talk about my accident, so I skip over the details. “I was in hospital for several weeks, and once I was released, I went through an even longer recovery period. The review board at work decided that, based on the medical reports and future prognosis, I needed to take early retirement on an ill-health pension because I couldn’t perform my duties as a police officer anymore.”

Beau tilts his head.

I shrug. “Nerve damage and a broken leg that now has a shit ton of pins in it to hold it together and doesn’t quite work like it used to. Most of the time, the nerve damage from my spinal injury doesn’t impede my daily life, but when I have a flare-up, which I can’t always anticipate, mobility issues can last for long stretches of time. In other words, I can’t reliably chase criminals anymore.”

“You miss it,” he says with an air of understanding.

I swallow thickly. “I do. It’s why I finally signed on with ExorSquad, no matter how shady they seem, to get involved in paranormal investigations. Once a detective, always a detective.”

Beau leans forward on the table, eager interest written all over his face. “I’ve always had a thing for famous fictional detectives and private investigators. Sam Spade, Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, and so on.” He rests his elbows on the table and his chin on his clasped hands. “Tell me more about ExorSquad and how you got involved in this type of work.”

I give him a quick rundown of the past few weeks since I found their advert and how I underwent training before being tossed in the deep end to sink or swim. By the time I’m telling him about some of the gadgets they gave me, he’s laughed himself silly, tears streaming down his cheeks, and I can’t stop the flush of embarrassment evident on my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I really shouldn’t laugh, but those ExorSquad folks clearly don’t know what they’re doing. Do you have that handbook on you?”

I sigh wearily, take it out of my pocket, and hand it over. He starts flipping through it, alternating between chuckling to himself and scoffing in disbelief.

“Do you want the good news or the bad first?” he asks when he finally looks up.

“I have a feeling neither are particularly good.”