Ghost Haven didn’t feel as safe as she expected when she got out of the security van. The walls seemed to move in the wind. The door knocker was dull and tarnished unlike when she’d visited just weeks ago.
Mrs. Mere yanked open the door. “It’s about time you got here. The haunted graveyard is changing. You need to paint it before it disappears.”
Tabitha frowned. She wasn’t here to paint the graveyard. She paused. There wasn’t any graveyard.
“But--” Before she could finish her sentence, Mrs. Mere wavered then turned into a large black spider that scurried through the scullery door into the kitchen.
Tabitha shuddered. She hated spiders.
The scene changed. She found herself in the old gallery. It was still dark, dirty, dusty. Evidently the ghost hadn’t let Debbie and Courtney clean it.
Tabitha shivered as a chill wind seemed to sweep through the room.
In her waking mind, the dream seemed strangely familiar, but the room changed. It was no longer dark, dirty, dusty. It was filled with sunlight, the furniture looked new.
The portrait of her ghost was no longer hidden behind the curtains. It was hanging to the side of the French doors that opened on to the balcony. The features were clear. The gold on the brocaded dress and long pointed hat was shiny. The fabric at the end of the cone shaped hat floated.
Tabitha tried to move toward the portrait. She wanted to see what her ghost looked like in real life. She had started cleaning the portrait but had forgotten it when she began working for Cabot.
A girl about sixteen floated through the paneling. She was wearing a burgundy and gold brocade dress. The same dress she had worn in the portrait.
Her hat was long and pointed, the same one she had worn in the portrait. The fabric on the end floated like gossamer. As Tabitha watched her she wondered how the girl kept the cone on the back of her head.
Tabitha wanted to ask her about the hat. She had always wondered how those hats had stayed on. Did they have their hair in a bun that the hat hung on?
The girl turned to look at Tabitha, a frown on her face. “You need to find me.” Her voice was ethereal, other worldly, oddly musical. “You need to come. It is safe here. You are needed.” The voice seemed to fade with each word.
With each word, the girl became more transparent, more invisible.
“Wait. Don’t go. Let me--”
The girl turned ghostly, no longer invisible, no longer transparent, but a see-through white. Her hands were no longer empty. There was a long, thin knife in her hand. She floated toward Tabitha raising the knife, higher, higher, until she plunged it—
Tabitha woke to her own scream.
Courtney ran into the room. “Tabitha, are you alright? What happened?”
Tabitha shot up in bed, her eyes wide with fright. Her hands shaking, her mind still reeling from seeing the knife plunge through her heart.
Tabitha grabbed Courtney’s arms in a death grip. “It was horrible. The ghost tried to kill me. She plunged a knife into my heart, but it wasn’t really there. It just went through me.”
Courtney gently patted Tabitha’s back. “It was just a dream. A nightmare. You’re okay.”
Tabitha lifted her hands that shook like she had palsy. “That was a bad one. I can’t remember one that bad.”
Courtney handed her a drink of water. Tabitha drained the cup, then handed Courtney the glass. “Thanks. Getting stabbed is dry work.”
Courtney gently rubbed Tabitha’s back. “Tab, do you think the nightmare was caused by someone shooting at you?”
“I don’t know. It could be a combination of everything.” She looked at her roommate. “Courtney, did you ever get the picture gallery cleaned?”
“No. We haven’t had time since we opened. We just took your suggestion and called it the haunted gallery. People love it. I find guests sitting on those dusty, dirty couches nearly every time I enter the room. Most of the time, they will be sitting with their eyes closed.
They tell me they can feel our ghost. They seem to love being scared to death.”
“Do you still have Mark’s book on Ghost Haven?”
“You mean the one that told you about the secret passages?”
“Yes.”
“I brought it to give back to Mark, but with all the problems, I keep forgetting when I see him.”
Could I see it? During the dream, I got the feeling I need to know more about our ghost. I don’t know why.”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all.” Courtney protested. “But I’ll go get it.”
Tabitha could feel her nerves vibrate like the strings on a harp. Why the ghost? Why now?
Chapter 27—Scotland Yard
Ed Tolliver put down the phone. “We’ve caught a case. Get your stuff together. I’ll call London.”
Georgette looked up from her computer. “I thought Hinckley pulled us out of the rotation. He said he wanted every last report from every last case finished by the end of the week. I understood we’re being audited.”
Ed shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on.” He pulled his phone from his pocket. “I wonder where London is.”
“Right here.” London strode through the open door. He grabbed his away bag while Georgette and Tolliver grabbed their forensic bags.
“Farmer and Deacon are downstairs loading the van.” London took the largest, heaviest bag from Georgette. “Grab those duplicate reports on Jess Duval, will you?”
Georgette and Ed’s eyes met. London had made it very clear that he didn’t want to know anything about the Duval case or Tabitha Black’s part in it.
When they were in the van Deacon said, “Where are we going?”
“Old Billingsgate Market.” London’s voice sounded carefully neutral.
“Old Billingsgate Market?”Farmer looked over at London. “Boss? Why there? That’s a pretty upscale area.”
“Our body is under a bridge on Thames Street near Old Billingsgate Market.” London explained patiently. It was clear to his team that he knew or felt something he wasn’t telling them.”
Tolliver looked over at London. “Out with it, boss. Something’s up. Hinckley pulled us out of the rotation because we’re so far behind on our reports. He told us we’d be working nights and weekends until those reports were caught up.”
Tolliver signaled to turn right. “Two hours later we’re told we caught a case. There is something fishy going on and it’s not at the Old Billingsgate Market.”
London couldn’t hid his grin any longer. “As you know there have been two attempts on Tabitha Black’s life plus a break in and an attempted break in. Parker seems to think that Black murdered Jess Duval which you also know.”
London rubbed the scar above his temple where a bullet had lodged in his head. “What you don’t know is that Hinckley is beginning to wonder if Black was the original target with Duval as collateral damage.”
“It’s about time.” Farmer exploded. “We could have told him that if he’d have asked us.”
“True.” London agreed. “However, part of the problem is that Parker--” He stopped, staring straight ahead.
After a few moments, he turned, looking at each of his team, making sure he caught their eyes. “This is strictly confidential. Not a word of this must be spoke outside the van or our office with the door closed. Is that completely understood?” There was a note in London’s voice that none of them had heard before.
“Hinckley told me I could tell you, but to swear you to secrecy.” He waited until everyone in the van had agreed to keep their mouth’s closed.
“He’s concerned that Parker is too focused on the Duval murder. From what different people have been telling him including Mark Brown, Tabitha’s barrister, Parker is only looking at Tabitha as the murderer.”
“That’s true.” Georgette confirmed. “Jeff Wilson is Parker’s chief forensic specialist. The reason he asked me to help on his team isn’t because his second in command is sick which he is, but Jeff says he c
ould handle that. He’s afraid that the wrong person will be arrested. When the case gets thrown out of court, Jeff will be blamed. It’s happened before.”
London nodded. “I don’t blame him for being worried. It doesn’t make any of us look good when a case gets thrown out on a technicality.”
“So how does this murder we’re going to investigate tie in with the Duval murder?” Deacon looked over his shoulder for a second before turning back to look out the windscreen.
“Adolphe Pasqual is missing. He was Jess Duval’s roommate.”
“And frustrated lover.” Georgette added. “Tabitha said he called her. They met at the deli around the corner from Tabitha’s building. He told her that he knew who her new lover was. He said he’d seen them together. She tried to get him to go to Jarret but he wouldn’t. He said he wasn’t sure.”
“She said he shouted that he knew who Duval’s murderer was and he’d get him.”
Tolliver pulled up behind a yellow, blue and white squad car.
London strode across the street to the crime scene tape. He showed his ID.
“What have you got?” The big bobby shoved his hat off his forehead. His big red face got redder. “What’s the Yard bein’ called in for? This is just a wino. Reeks of the stuff.”
London didn’t raise his voice. “How was he killed?”
“Looks like he staggered into the road, got hi’ selfhit by a car.” London motioned for his people to get to work. Georgette pulled back the plastic sheet, looked, then turned away. Her face was chalky white. She closed her eyes, obviously fighting back nausea.
Tolliver put his hand on her shoulder. When he saw what she had seen, he too, turned a grayish white.
London walked over. The man’s face was completely missing. There was blood, brains and bone in the surrounding snow. There were a few blond hairs around the outside of the skull, but all that was left.
London turned back to the Bobbie. “You couldn’t warn my team of what to expect?” His voice was like a two-edged sword.
The Bobbie snorted. “Na one warned me, did they? Your precious team needs to toughen up if they’re goin’ be workin’ the docks. Docks ain’t fer sissies.”
London pulled out his notebook, took a special note of the Bobbie’s name, writing it in his notebook, underlining it three times.
The Bobbie looked uneasy but didn’t move.
“Have you questioned anyone about this death?”
“Na. Ya got here ta fast.” He pointed to a woman sitting on a bench facing away from the crime scene. “She found the body. I tol her she’d hav ta stay until you got here. She wasna happy.” His voice got louder, more vehement.
“You stay here.” London looked like he could murder the Bobbie. “Ed, come with me, please.”
Ed handed the camera to Farmer, hurrying over to London. “That woman there found the body. Damn Bobbie left her sitting there by herself.
“You want me to interview her?”
“We’ll both do it.”
Tolliver nodded. “I take it we treat her with kid gloves.”
“Unless you want her to puke all over your boots.” London’s grin was mirthless, his face white.
“Boss, have you got a headache? You’re looking a little peaked around the eyes.”
“The scar is bothering me a bit. Doctor said it would pull some. If it gets too bad, they’ll have to go in a remove the extra tissue.”
“It seems like cutting you open to remove scar tissue just makes more scar tissue. Doesn’t make sense to me.”
London nodded. “I agree.”
They stopped before a woman who looked to be in her early forties. Her face was a translucent white. There were tears on her cheeks. Her hands were chapped and cold looking.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting so long.” London pulled out his warrant card. “I’m Detective Chief Inspector Charles London. This is my Detective Sergeant, Edward Tolliver.”
She looked up at him for a long moment as though she wasn’t sure why she was sitting on a snow-covered bench. She motioned for him to sit down. She scooted over to make room so they could set on either side of her.
Ed pulled out his notebook. “Could I have your name, miss?”
“Kimberly Monson. I work across the way at the paper company. I’m a secretary there. I just hope I have a job when you’re done here.”
London smiled. “I’ll send Ed over with you. He can explain to your boss what happened and why you were detained. Would you please tell me what happened leading up to you finding the body?”
Kimberly shook her head. “I was running late. If I’d have been on time, I wouldna of seen what I saw which’ll haunt me for the rest of my life.” Tears started running down her face.
London reached in the side pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a clean white handkerchief and handed it to her.
“I was hurrying from the bus stop down that way.” She pointed to the main road. “That man was walking ahead a me, weaving back and forth, mutterin’ to himself.”
“So he was alive when you saw him?” Ed clarified.
“Yea. I saw the whole thing. I was hurrying to get around him when I slipped on a ruddy bit of ice and landed on my tush.” She rubbed her hip.
“I was have a go at gettin’ to my feet. They kept slidin’ out from under me. Probly a blessin’. I’m that ashamed to admit I was cussin’ him fer not helpin’ me.”
He started a cross the road. A monstrous black van slammed inta him as he bot ta the middle a the road. Threw the poor man to where he is now.”
London stood, looking from the intersection to where the body lay. “That’s eighteen meters.”
Ed nodded. “At least. Were you able to get a license number?”
“Na. There was a bit of somethin’ coverin’ it. I did see a T at the beginnin’ and an 8 at the end, but that’s all.”
“Then what happened.” Tolliver had a hard time not dropping his ‘h’s’.
Her face went whiter, her mouth sagged. “Tha’s the orrible part. The man ga out, walked ta where the bloke was layin’. He looked at him a moment. Then he got back in his truck ‘n ran over the poor bloke’s face.”
London’s face was a blank mask, but Tolliver couldn’t hide his horror.
“What did the man who did this look like?” London turned back to her.
“He was wearin’ an old gray coat, patched in a lota places. A dirty purplish scarf, ‘n a black porkpie hat pulled low down ta the scarf. He had on big, ugly sunglasses. But he was a big man—as tall as you.” She looked at London. “Broa shoulders.”
She stopped. “It’s odd when I think about it.”
Ed looked up from his notebook.
“I thought it was odd at the time. It’s still odd.”
“What’s odd?” Tolliver kept his voice gentle even though he wanted to tell her to hurry up. They had a murder to solve.
She broke down sobbing into London’s handkerchief. “He was wearing polished dress shoes with that old coat. You know the men’s kind that have laces.” Her voice was so thick that Ed said, “You said that he was wearing polished dress shoes?”
“Ya. He made sure to step around the body. Tha’s wha made me notice.”
Ed patted her on the back. “I’m sorry you had to see that. You’re a wonderful witness though. Most people would have gone into shock.”
She blew her nose. “Not such a great person. I guess I passed out. I dinna see where the van went.”
“We can tell by the tire tracks. It’s so cold the snow isn’t melting.” London looked at Tolliver.
“Miss, can you tell us what the victim looked like? Did you see his face?”
“Na. He had a big black floppy hat on. That’s all I saw.”
London left Tolliver to get her contact information. He walked over to where Georgette was checking the man’s pockets. “Nothing in the pockets, but I found this under his body.” She pulled out an evidence bag. There was a small painter’s knife with Tabitha
’s name on the handle.
“It looks just like the one in Duval’s flat.”
“Well, it wasn’t Tabitha that killed him.” Tolliver said. “Kimberly said she saw a big man—wearing polished dress shoes.”
London looked at Deacon. “Please take Ms. Monson over to her work. Tell her boss she was detained as a witness in a hit and run. See if he’ll let her go home. If so, take her home and make sure she gets inside okay.”
Deacon nodded. “Will do.” He walked over to Kimberly, spoke briefly to her, then helped her to her feet.
“Could it have been a big woman?” Farmer asked as he finished taking pictures.
“She specified a man.” London looked around the crime scene. “I suspect she’s the kind of woman who notices men.”
Farmer nodded. He walked away from the body. After looking closely at the tire treads that ran over the victim, Farmer took more pictures.
“Have you been able to identify him?” London stood watching Georgette finish fingerprinting him.
I’m running them now.” After a long minute, she shook her head. “Nothing in our data base. I’ll try Interpol next but if he was a regular citizen, he might not be in the data base.” She tapped a few spots on her phone. “I’m running Aphis and Interpol. We might get a hit.”
Tolliver said, “We can find out what Pasqual had to eat last night. If this bloke has the same thing in his stomach, we’d be a step closer to identifying him.”
“Here’s the coroner’s van.” Tolliver motioned toward the big white van coming around the corner.
“He’ll be livid I didn’t wait for him before I started my examination, but I was careful not to disturb anything.”
Jeremy Thomas, the assistant medical examiner, climbed out of the van. He walked over to look down at Georgette. “You know you’re supposed to wait until I get here to do anything to the body.”
London walked over from examining a grate a few feet from the body. “I authorized it.” He held out his warrant card.
Thomas examined it then said, “You know the rules.”
“You’ll have to take it up with Chief Superintendent Hinckley. I’m just following his orders.”
Thomas closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Just move so I can get on with my examination.”
The Ghost Dances the Nutcracker Page 14
