by Angie Fox
I was starting to agree with him.
Tar edged up behind me, forcing me into the room.
“We’re not leaving,” Marjorie said, her eyes darting to the ooze. The air grew heavy. This was bad. “Not until you tell us what you’re doing with the judge’s case.”
A long shadow fell over the room.
“He’s hiding it.” A sinister voice surrounded us. “From me.”
Black tar ran freely down the walls and over doorways. Marcus passed through the burning ooze like it was nothing as he stepped from the darkened hallway across from us.
Chapter 22
Marjorie turned to Marcus, shocked. “You found Greasy Larry’s papers.” Black tar oozed down the paned glass wall behind her. “That’s how you learned about the baby.”
Shane gripped the case tighter. “Hold up. Baby?”
Her gaze darted from her husband to her lover. A stream of black tar bubbled up between her and Shane. “In 1916, before I ever met you, before Graham met Jeannie, before I married Marcus, I gave birth to a child, a little girl.” Marjorie clenched her hands together in front of her. “I gave her up.” She glanced at Marcus, frightened. “I had to. I couldn’t raise her alone.”
The brute’s lip curled smugly. “What you mean to say is that Graham didn’t want either of you.” He ran a hand down his chin as he advanced on her. “What a mess, darling. You sleep with our best friend and he tosses you over, along with the brat. Seems I’m the only one who ever wanted you.”
“It wasn’t like that,” she exclaimed, but I could tell his words had gotten to her. Marjorie backed away as far as she could go, up to the edge of the black sludge. “Graham and I were never in love. We were never meant to be together. We were…experimenting. Learning. We made a mistake.”
“A big one,” Marcus countered, flashing her a smile that would have been charming coming from anyone else. “All those years neither one of you ever breathed a word about it. And here I thought Graham and I shared everything. Wait.” He gave a dark laugh. “I suppose we did.”
“You’re disgusting,” Marjorie declared, retreating from him. The heel of her shoe edged into the tar. “Oh!”
She darted forward, into Marcus’s arms, and hastily shoved him away. Marcus let her go. For the moment, at least.
“You’re a tease, baby,” he smirked. “You like to play it sweet,” Marcus rumbled, rattling the windows, sending ooze cascading down the walls. “But you left out the best part. The part where you married my best friend. Our best friend. In secret.”
“I—” she began.
“Don’t bother denying it,” Marcus snapped. “I’ve already confirmed that you’re damaged goods.”
She swallowed hard. “We had to marry! Just for a little while. We wanted our baby to be legitimate. We wanted her to have a chance if the truth ever came out.”
Marcus nodded to himself, turning to pace a few steps. “Just like you had to marry me a couple years later. Because I’m your friend.”
“You were safe,” she said, her voice small.
“Right. Good enough until you decided you wanted some excitement,” he snapped, the glass crackling under his anger.
He cocked his head and strolled toward her. “I knew you were about to leave me for this bum. So I’m picking the sad little locks on your personal this and thats, trying to figure out how to get my wife to stay,” he proclaimed to the room, his tone genial, his expression murderous, “when I find your letters to your secret daughter.”
“You leave her out of this,” Marjorie whispered.
Marcus grinned. “I hired Larry to check her out. Turns out he didn’t have to look far.”
“Larry told you everything,” I said, horrified.
“For a price, like everyone else.” Marcus shrugged. He whipped around to face his wife. “All this time, I thought I’d won! I’d gotten you, not Graham. Instead, I married a slut and a divorcée.” He stopped in front of her. “Well, congrats to you,” he said, once more crowding her dangerously close to the seeping tar. “You got the better end of the deal.”
Her eyes were wide, her voice shaky. “Stop this. Please. I said I’d stay.”
He smirked. “For now. Because Shaney dumped you,” he said, pointing to the diamond dealer, who stood trapped in a circle of tar near the animal cages. “But what’s to stop you from running off with the next guy who looks at you sideways?”
Shane looked ready to risk the oozing liquid. “You said you’d hurt her if I didn’t end things. I held up my end. Now you need to leave her alone.”
“Yeah, it would have gotten ugly,” Marcus interrupted, “if you’d forced me to damage my own wife.” He turned to her, his rough words taking on a soothing tone. “I wouldn’t have enjoyed cutting you. I tried to make it easier for you to stay.”
She gulped, afraid to move.
“You need to know,” Shane said to Marjorie, the love he had for her clear in his expression, “I’d never hurt you or leave you if I had a choice.”
She nodded, overwhelmed. I hoped she believed him.
Marcus brushed a lock of hair behind her ear in a gesture that could have been mistaken for affection if I hadn’t known it was all about control. “I’m in charge here,” Marcus stated. “I can make your afterlife a living hell.” He rubbed a curl of hair between his fingers. “But we don’t want that, do we? I wish you could learn to love me. We could be so happy.”
This guy was sick, but I couldn’t let it distract me. I had to make sense of what had happened. “You were meeting Larry by the snake cage to get the proof about EJ’s parents,” I said, hoping to draw his attention away from his poor wife.
Marcus huffed. “Larry wanted cash. Lots of it. It took a few days.” He stroked Marjorie’s cheek. “You were worth it to me.”
“But you never got it,” I said. Otherwise, EJ’s adoption papers wouldn’t have still been in Larry’s briefcase.
Marcus’s lip curled into a rueful smile. “It was going to be really simple. Until Larry met me in the snake cage to tell me I can’t have the documents I need to keep my wife in line.” His fists tightened. “I could have killed him for that.”
“You did,” I whispered, cringing as my voice carried in the old, high-ceilinged room.
“Not really,” Marcus scoffed. “It wasn’t my fault. Dumb bastard made some bad choices. Said he didn’t want to hurt a kid. Damned crook picked the wrong time to grow a conscience.”
He eyed his wife.
“Greasy Larry was my only link to the truth. When we met near the snake pit that night, I told him I’d choke it out of him.” Marcus rested a hand on Marjorie’s neck, and her eyes went wide as he gave a little squeeze. “I lost control. Just one hard squeeze.” Her eyes widened as he tightened his grip. “Old buy-and-sell Larry let me kill him rather than ruin a kid’s life. Ain’t that pathetic? He didn’t even know the brat.”
So Greasy Larry did have his limits. He’d died for them.
“He deserved it,” Marcus stated, his hand lingering on his wife’s throat before he released her, leaving her breathless. “I’m tired of people thinking they can decide things for me.”
Marcus strode past Marjorie, through the slime. He held out his hand to Shane. “Give me the briefcase.”
“Why?” Marjorie croaked. “What else is in it?”
Marcus smiled at her. “Plenty on you. I’m doing you a favor.”
Shane glared at him, ice cold. “Screw you.”
Marcus chuckled. “What were you going to do with it in here? Hide out and read all the dirt on your ex-lady love? Maybe try to tear up the evidence on your mob contacts? Why bother? You already got caught.”
“I want to know why you wanted it so bad,” Shane said through clenched teeth. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve had it on you since the live girl found it.”
Larry must have had something on Marcus, something Marcus couldn’t destroy.
Shane’s plan hadn’t been half bad. The menagerie would be a nice
, quiet place to search the evidence—until Marcus arrived.
Shane backed toward the animal cages, cracking open the case as he went.
I had no idea what he planned to do, but I knew it would hack off Marcus. I braced myself, ready to create a distraction.
“Drop it,” Marcus snapped, “or I’ll get very angry.”
A drop of black slime dripped from the ceiling, the chill of it grazing my cheek. I leapt back, and Marcus laughed as it sizzled on the floor beside me.
“You’re out of time,” the dominant ghost told his rival. “Or at least she is.”
We all looked to Marjorie. While Shane had been talking, the slime had surrounded her until she stood in a pool of it. She cried out in horror as it climbed her legs.
“Take it.” Shane shoved the case at Marcus. “Make this stop.”
Marcus grabbed hold of the briefcase with a sneer. The lake of tar receded, and he let the other man rush to his injured lover. “You’re pathetic,” Marcus grunted. “I don’t know what she ever saw in you.”
Shane steadied Marjorie as the pool of slime retreated. He brushed at her legs where the tar had engulfed her. “I’m fine. Fine,” she insisted, clinging to him. “He’s hurt me worse.”
“I’m trying to make our marriage work,” Marcus insisted.
She released Shane and stood tall in front of her husband. “You don’t want to love me. You want to own me.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Marcus said, running his hand down her arm. “None of it does. He directed his hard, cold gaze to me. All of this stayed hidden until the live girl stirred things up. If we kill her and agree to walk out of this together, no one has to know.”
Heavens. I froze. It was the perfect solution.
For them, at least.
My heart squeezed. Marjorie’s eyes widened as she looked from her husband to me.
“You’re sick,” she whispered.
Marcus was so focused on his wife, he didn’t see Shane behind him. Shane’s image glowed bright and clear. He rose up, powerful as I’d ever seen him, fueled by passion, love, anger, and I didn’t know what else. “Get your hands off her!” He drove down onto Marcus with everything he had.
Marcus raised a hand and knocked him back, straight into a streaming wall of tar.
“Shane!” Marjorie broke free. Marcus let her. She ran a few steps then watched in horror as her lover screamed and disappeared into the muck.
The image of Marcus flickered slightly as if the energy had cost him, but then he glowed strong once more.
“If only that would get rid of him for good,” Marcus said dryly.
But ghosts couldn’t die. They could only hurt.
Poor Shane.
He loved Marjorie and she loved him, but a happy future for them seemed out of reach.
“You bastard!” Marjorie grabbed the briefcase from her husband.
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, towering over her.
She threw the case at me. “Catch, Verity!”
“I can’t!” If I touched it, it would disappear in minutes and go straight back to the upstairs bedroom that Marcus controlled. Besides, I needed to show it to Inspector De Clercq tonight.
I tried to duck, but the case caught me on the shoulder and landed hard on the floor. It skittered into the darkness behind me.
“No!” All our work. All of Marjorie’s sacrifice. It was as good as gone.
I ran for the case. I needed to get it to De Clercq fast.
I charged into the darkened hallway. Toward the alligator and the lion and anybody else who wanted to kill me.
I could feel the chill of Marcus behind me, beside me, everywhere.
“Idiot girl,” he ground out, grazing me as he surged past, the stinging cold force of his touch making me stumble over my feet. I fell hard on my knees.
He let out a victory yell and barreled ahead, straight into the grip of a half-dozen old-timey police officers and one smug investigator De Clercq.
“You are under arrest,” he said as Marcus struggled against the two burly officers, “for the murder of Judge Larry Knowles.” The hallway darkened to pitch-black. I could smell the tar bubbling up.
Then the cuffs clicked on and the shadows lifted.
De Clercq’s mustache twitched. “I’d say that’s the end of that.”
“The case.” I pointed to the ground where it lay.
“I’ve got it,” De Clercq said crisply, very much in his element. “The briefcase is no longer your concern.” For once, I was glad to have him leave me out of it.
Frankie stood several feet behind De Clercq. I gave the investigator a wide berth and sought out my friend.
“You’re here,” I said, coming as close as I ever had to hugging the gangster. “Thank heavens. How did you know I’d be here?”
“By the trail of destruction,” the gangster said. “I mean, seriously. An alligator?”
“That wasn’t mine,” I told him, keeping an eye on the police while De Clercq read Marcus his rights.
The black tar smoked and evaporated from the walls of the snake room. Marjorie cried out and rushed to a nearly transparent Shane slumped against the far wall.
“He’s going to be hurting for a while,” Frankie said, hands in his pockets, observing the situation as if he’d planned for it to go down this way all along. “That’s some toxic rage old Marcus had going.”
“Will Shane recover?” I asked, watching his eyes open as Marjorie fussed over him.
“It takes a lot of pent-up anger to produce tar like that,” Frankie said, cringing. “When you get that on you, I won’t lie, it can damage the spirit permanently. You just have to hope the guy is strong enough to recover.”
With Marjorie’s help, I had hope that he would.
Shane had been willing to risk everything for her. He’d stood by her no matter what. Perhaps they could be happy together.
Marjorie deserved someone who loved her, and perhaps crusty old Shane did as well.
A police photographer with an old-fashioned camera stopped to get a photo of the briefcase on the floor. The flash nearly blinded me.
“I’m glad you were here to back us up,” I said to Frankie. “We would have been in real trouble without you.”
The mobster tried to shrug me off, but I saw the tilt of his mouth and the pleasure behind his jaded eyes. “I had officers following Marcus,” he said as the photographer took another shot.
“Truly?” It seemed like a very un-Frankie-like move, and I wouldn’t put it past him to lie.
“It wasn’t hard,” Frankie said, straightening his tie as if this were par for the course. “De Clercq had a half-dozen plainclothes officers handy. He made me promise not to tell.”
“Since when can you keep a secret?” I asked.
He ignored me. “The officers were observing, but they didn’t know what they were looking for.”
“And you did,” I said, smelling the baloney.
Frankie drew the cigarette case out of his pocket. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just insult me.” He selected a smoke and lit it. “Turns out I do know when a guy looks shady.” He blew smoke out his nose. “We’d been observing Marcus for three days, and he never put down his drink once. Until he did.” Frankie took another drag. “He ditched it like it was on fire and headed for the menagerie. That meant something big was going down.”
“Like he’d caught a whiff of Shane in his territory.” He was the dominant ghost, after all.
Frankie nodded. “We just had to stand back and let him incriminate himself.” He waved a hand. “With your help.”
Yeah, I did help a little bit.
But something was still bothering me. “The briefcase. Frankie, I touched it. It’s going to be gone soon. There’s something in there that Marcus doesn’t want us to see.”
Once it disappeared, it would return to Marcus, and there was no telling where he’d hide it. “I doubt Marcus is going to let it reappear in Larry’s old room.”
>
“Marcus isn’t the dominant ghost anymore,” De Clercq said. “Not since the cuffs went on.” The investigator watched his men lead Marjorie’s husband away. “I have an officer waiting upstairs for it to reappear.”
“So ghosts can get into Larry’s room now?” I said to the inspector.
He inclined his head. “Graham and Jennie Adair control their home once more, and I have no reason to believe they won’t cooperate with our investigation.”
“True,” I said. The Adairs would be thrilled to have their house and their lives back, even if they would be saddened to learn the ghost who had caused their torment for so many years had also been an old friend.
De Clercq paused, toying with the end of his mustache. “I must admit I did not expect Larry Knowles to die because he tried to do good.”
“People change sometimes,” I said, eyeing Frankie.
I’d never pegged the gangster as one to actually buckle down and contribute to the investigation, either.
Frankie cleared his throat and became overly interested in blowing smoke out of his nose.
“What about Shane?” I asked, watching him embrace Marjorie. He’d regained his form, and it appeared the star-crossed lovers were well on their way to a reunion. Only Shane had done dirty work for the mob, and justice meant he and Marjorie would be separated again.
“Shane Jordan has served his time,” De Clercq said.
“He has,” I said, pleased to see justice prevail once more. According to the article, Shane Jordan had been sentenced to prison. He’d served that sentence during his lifetime, and as a dead man, he was free.
“We watched him steal the briefcase from Marcus,” the investigator said. “Quite clever. He waited until Marcus stepped up to the bar. Marcus put the case down and it was gone before he could say, ‘No olive.’”
“We weren’t even sure Marcus was the dominant ghost,” Frankie said. “I hadn’t gotten a good look at the actual briefcase in the bedroom, you know, with all the slime and the yelling.”
“What’s in it?” asked Marjorie from behind him. She held Shane’s hand. He appeared a bit unsteady still, but that was to be expected.
The investigator nodded to a colleague, and the man snapped the case open.
