She grinned and poked him lightly in the ribs. "You're not afraid of ghosts, yet those guys scare you?"
"Spirits I can handle; I know their ways," he said, giving her a one-armed hug. "Like the man said, the only certainties in life are death and taxes. I deal in both. Death's not the ending it seems, but I know what can happen when the investigation branch finds a scent. It gets bloody!"
"You won't have anything to worry about here," she said reassuringly. "If we're right and Bruce is playing fast and loose, let him take his lumps and like 'em. You were hired to do a job and that's what you're doing. If necessary, I can give evidence about seeing those documents in his apartment, and cite good reasons for not reporting him. Just pretend you heard and saw nothing."
"Easy enough to do." He kissed her on the cheek. "I've got enough on my plate with this case. I can't spare time worrying about tax evasion."
"What do we do now?"
"Hmm? Oh, first we'll check my sensors, and see if anything cropped up during the night." He frowned. "There's the little matter of that fall Dave had. I'm not one hundred percent convinced it was accidental."
She gazed at him with narrowed eyes. "You figure a ghost may have pushed him downstairs?"
"It's possible. I've come across similar incidents. There was a case I investigated in Norfolk—that's the County of Norfolk, England—where a ghost actually stopped someone from falling downstairs."
"Wonderful!" She gave him an impish grin and poked him in the ribs again. "I did guess you weren't referring to Norfolk, Virginia."
"Well, yeah. Sorry. I've noticed most Americans make that assumption, though."
"Okay, I'll grant you that. So, it's not unheard of for spirits to help people. I also know from the Chestnut Mansion case that it's not unheard of for them to be dangerous!"
"Exactly, and I'm sure we're facing a potentially dangerous case here." He rubbed his chin. "We really need to look into the matter of Joe Minotti, the gang leader, and his sidekick Ezra Ellis. Hopefully our archivist friend has uncovered some historical data about him by now. I sent Cutie-Boy to rest, but it didn't give closure to the other two. Not every traumatic death results in a haunting, love, but it happens often enough for me to want to cover all angles." He frowned. "After the scene in the diner, I find I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."
"It will."
"Yes, it will. We also need to go up to Canning's Vale where Gerry landed. Somewhere in that valley is a cave, and inside that cave are two bodies. Once they can be recovered, at least one troubled spirit will be laid to rest."
"That's what I like most about you, darling," she murmured. "You care about people."
He hugged her. "I care about you most, Claudia, because I love you."
"I love you too," she said, kissing him slowly. Then she drew back and her smile flashed in dull afternoon light. "I'm so freakin' glad I hooked up with you, Mr. Grey, you know that?"
"I do." He kissed the tip of her nose.
They resumed walking, Claudia's hand in the crook of his arm. "Are you really worried about meeting my family?"
"I suppose I am, in a way. It's so important that they approve of me."
"Why so?"
He blinked at her. "Don't you think it'll be better if they like me?"
"Martin, I'm sure they'll approve and I'll be really glad when it happens. In the unlikely event they don't, then it's not the end of the world, lover." She slipped her arm around his waist and hugged him. "As long as we can be together, I don't care what other people may say or think."
He hugged her back. "That means everything to me, my darling."
"Me too. Besides, it won't happen. My folks don't bite. Well, my dad might."
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, charming!"
She giggled. "No, don't worry; his bark's far worse than his bite."
"So all I've got to do is get a bottle of 1920 Glenfidich to give him and hope it works?"
"You do that, and he may just give you my mom as well!"
* * * *
They checked the sensors. Some showed activity they were able to attribute to the party the previous night. One showed an anomalous reading in the passageway outside the office, but the data was too vague for Martin to interpret.
"Where next?" Claudia asked.
He smiled. "Sorry to sound like a horror-movie cliché, but let's go down to the basement."
She gave a snort of laughter. "Okay, I'll find a flashlight with poor batteries and go explore a remote and dangerous part of the basement while you try to fix the fuses!"
He tapped his chin and pondered theatrically. "You know, I think it would be better if we didn't follow the script."
"You're the boss!"
Martin had his magnetic resonance meter to hand as they descended the stairway behind the reception desk. The route down to the basement was lit by a series of thick plastic fittings screwed to the wall. As they passed the halfway point the LED flickered. "I'm getting something," he said, and stopped. He sniffed the air. "Smell that?"
She sniffed delicately. "Is that ectoplasm again?"
"Yes." He pointed to scuff marks on the wall. "At a guess I'd say Dave fell here."
Claudia examined the black and gray marks. "You think something may have pushed him?"
"Either that, or it prevented him falling further."
"Is that possible?"
"Oh yes. I can think of a couple of instances." He smiled. "Remember Captain and Mrs. Cloverdale and their daughter? Spirits can be helpful too, you know."
"Okay, you convinced me there. Do we go on?"
"May as well, while we're here."
The fuses to the main building were in a recessed closet in the wall at the foot of the stairway. "This is what Dave was trying to reach," Martin said, opening the door.
"Would a spirit have tried to prevent him from doing so?" Claudia looked at the array of switches and black boxes fixed to the wall inside. "If so; why?"
"Maybe it was to prevent something from being discovered?"
"You're quite right, sir."
The gravelly male voice seemed to reach into their brains without passing their ears. They turned slowly and saw the pale figure of a man—or, rather, half a man. His body looked quite solid and real from the waist up. He was middle-aged, with a jowly, fleshy face on which stubble made a dark shadow; his hair was black and streaked with gray, and swept back from his forehead in a widow's peak. They could see the worn white shirt and the faded and patched blue denim dungarees he was wearing. Below the waist, there was nothing. Sad dark eyes gazed at them fixedly.
Martin heard Claudia gulp quite audibly alongside him. Moving slowly, delicately, he took a step forward, noticing how cold it had become. "In the name of peace, may we help you?"
"In the name of peace, you can certainly help me, sir."
"I know you," Martin said softly. "You were tending that bonfire down by the drive the night we arrived. Am I addressing Mr. Gottlieb?"
"That's me. I want you to find my boy," the apparition said emphatically. A thick arm rose like a gun barrel to point at the stairs behind them. "One of those things tried to kill that man who came down here last night. I stopped them. It'll not come back here, but they're growing in strength. You, sir and ma'am, are the only hope we have left."
With this last plea he faded quickly from sight, leaving them staring at the bare floor of the basement.
* * * *
"Why could we only see his top half?" Claudia asked as they climbed back up the stairs.
"It's connected to the amount of power a spirit possesses, and the desire to be seen by mortals. Oddly enough, it's quite common. That helpful spirit I mentioned earlier? It had manifested in just that way."
She paused with her hand on the door handle. "Gerry seems to manage just fine."
"Yes, mainly because he has such a desire to end his connection to this world and move on. Even so, he can't sustain it for very long and physical barriers like a closet or a bag can contain him."
She shook her head and pushed the door open. "A shame; I like the guy."
They walked out into the reception hall. "Me too, but you've got to remember he's only here because of what happened."
"Granted. Martin, what do we do now?"
"I think it's time we made plans to visit that valley." He glanced up at the gallery. The office lights were now on. "Looks like Bruce has finished with Greg. We should go up and see if he can find a local guide."
They walked upstairs. "Come in!" Bruce called when Martin knocked, and they walked into the office. "Hi," Bruce said in distracted tones, looking up from a heap of paperwork. "I fixed Greg if that's what you want to know."
"That's okay, Bruce, we're not after Greg. We just called to tell you we'll be going up to the valley tomorrow to locate that cavern, and hopefully the bodies."
"Is that wise?" Bruce asked, peering out the window. "The weather's real changeable around here at this time of year."
Martin glanced at the window. "There's a general thaw on at the moment. From the forecast it's likely to stay mild for the next few days. I've looked at the map, there's a track only ten miles from the valley. If we set out early enough, we should reach the place in good time."
"You really need someone who knows the area," Bruce said doubtfully. "We have local guides here during the summer, but they're not on contract at this time of year."
"If you could give us a few names and phone numbers, perhaps we could hire one on a private basis?"
"You'd have to ask Laurel, she deals with the day-to-day stuff."
Martin ignored Claudia's irritated tch when the name was spoken. "Whoever it is, he or she would have to be trustworthy. There could be a lot of this Scotch still up there. I'd hate to have anyone tempted by it. By the by, did Joanne return the Scotch?"
"Huh? Yeah." Bruce thought for a moment. "Yeah, I think she did. Wait one, I'll check." He bent down to the window locker and opened the door. Instantly, Gerry appeared, looking woozy as always. "Yep, it's here."
He made to close the door but Martin stopped him. "Wait a moment, Gerry's here."
"Oh, excuse me!" Bruce said in a sour voice. "I wouldn't want to be so impolite as to shut a ghost up in a closet! Martin, I hope you find what's needed to settle this, it's getting very tiring."
"What the hellsh he flappin' on at?" Gerry asked in aggrieved tones. "Ya think I like being here?" He turned bleary eyes on Martin. "Hey, Martin, I gotta tell ya somethin' important! There's a guy working here who's a Fed!"
"Really?" Martin asked, flicking a glance at Bruce, who had turned back to his paperwork.
"Yeah! Down in that workshop where that guy's bit o' skirt took me. He was goin' on to her about some missin' bonds or other."
Martin blinked. "Really?"
"Yeah. What's the matter with you?" Martin tipped his head slightly to indicate Bruce, who was sitting half-turned away from the conversation as if he wanted nothing to do with it. Gerry followed his glance, then nodded and winked. "Oh, I geddit!" He grinned. "He could be the one goin' in the can! Okay, I know only you and your li'l lady can hear me.
"The girl gave thish Fed the Scotch bottle and he got real excited. When she'd gone last night he checked the label over and made a call on one o' those dinky li'l telephone things." He shivered. "Can't say I liked it when he did that. It made me feel like I had the 'flu or somethin'. Anyways, whoever it was called him back, an' he got even more stirred up."
"That's interesting, Gerry," Martin said with a wink. "Bruce, would you mind if I took the bottle with me up to Canning's Vale tomorrow? I think it could be a great help in settling this case."
"Sure, whatever," he said, waving at the locker. "Take it now if you want. When or if you find the site, could you bring me back another bottle? Preferably one without a free ghost attached!"
* * * *
Donna was behind the desk and looked at them with frank curiosity. Gerry grinned and waved to her, which of course she couldn't see.
Martin took Claudia's arm. "I think we'd better go to our cabin," he murmured. "We need to talk to Gerry."
Pete was up a ladder working on an electrical cable to one side of the doors when they emerged. He paused in his work and regarded them from beneath lowering brows. Gerry stopped, swaying slightly, to give him a hard look. Martin nodded to Pete and hurried the pace until they were back in the cabin. He unwrapped the bottle and placed it on the table.
"So, Gerry, what were you saying about Pete?"
"That guy up the ladder? He'sh lookin' for some bonds. Shomehow, they're tied up with that booze I was flyin' in."
Claudia frowned. "Pete's a Treasury agent, so he must be looking for federal bonds."
"I only know a little about them through my work at the tax office," Martin said, sitting on the bed. "The international dealings aren't really my department. What are they, exactly?"
"They're a kind of paper money drawn directly on the US Treasury, which makes them every bit as good as specie. I think there are some restrictions attached to their use, but essentially, anyone possessing a bond can cash it in and the government has to honor it."
"An' this guy reckons I had some of theesh?" Gerry said, giving her a puzzled look. "All I had on my plane was booze!"
"What do you remember of that consignment, Gerry?" Martin asked. "Who brought it to you, and what did it look like?"
The ghost thought for a while. "It was all in crates, wrapped up in tarpaulin. The guys up in Dundas opened one at the top an' showed me the booze, but I didn't need to shee it, I could feel it sloshin' around when we loaded it."
Claudia nodded. "I reckon it would be easy enough to slip a packet of bonds inside one of the crates. For their own security, those men wouldn't tell you they were there. Was it the first time you'd made a bootlegging flight for them?"
"Yeah. My first and only bootleggin' run. Things were real bad back then; I needed the money for my family." Gerry sank to the floor and put his hands to his head, the picture of despair. "Oh, Christ Jesus! What happened to them when I didn't come back?"
"Gerry, I told you we can find out for you," Martin said softly. "And we will! You'd be surprised at the amount of information there is to help us search. We'll find your remains then we'll find your surviving family or your descendants, so you'll get a proper burial. You'll be at peace after all this time."
"Yeah, that's what I want, more 'n anything." The ghost sighed and stood up shakily. "You're gonna look for my plane?"
"Tomorrow."
"Martin, we'll be heading across rough country," Claudia pointed out. "I've got nothing in my luggage which can cope with that. New York City's got most things but it's kind of light on mountains. We'll have to get some proper clothing."
"You're right." He glanced at his watch. "We can head into Gainesville now, the shops—ah, stores—will still be open. There's a hiking and camping equipment store on the main street. We can get the necessary gear there."
"What about Pete?" she asked.
"I'll speak to him before we do anything tomorrow. If he's a Treasury Agent, he should be told what's going on." He rubbed his hands together. "Now, before it gets too late in the day, shall we go shop?"
"Martin, you know the sweetest things to say to a woman," she said and smiled.
* * * *
The powerful thrust of take-off ceased, the plane leveled off, and the seatbelt sign went out with a loud chime. Ursula Baker kicked off her shoes, tilted her seat back and drummed her fingers on the armrest. The Avro RJ-85 was climbing out of La Guardia right on time, en-route for Syracuse less than an hour's flight away. She looked out the window at the urban landscape rolling away below, and sighed inwardly. It wouldn't be a long flight, yet it served to give her more time to ponder over her course of action.
Inside her coat pocket was a USB flash drive containing some information she would very much like to have Bruce's explanation for. A great deal of money figured in the expenses claimed by Mr. Martin Grey, paranormal investiga
tor, and she had begun to smell a king-sized rat. It had worried her enough to book the earlier flight without telling Bruce she was on her way.
* * * *
They bought two pairs of sturdy boots, a portable gas stove, sleeping bags and a small tent in case they had to camp overnight. A visit to the Wal-Mart supplied packaged food then they returned to the resort and a quiet dinner in the restaurant.
When they returned to the cabin, Gerry was nowhere to be seen.
"He's spending some down-time, I suppose," Martin said, looking round.
"I don't mind." Claudia yawned noisily. "Oh, I am so tired!" She sank onto the bed to pull her shoes off. "He seems a nice guy, it's just I'd prefer some privacy right now."
"We've had a busy day." Martin sat behind her and began to massage her shoulders.
"Mmm, that feels good!" she murmured, slouching as the tension left her under his touch. "Please, don't spoil this moment by telling me what time we've got to be up tomorrow morning."
"Okay, I'll just say 'early' for now," he chuckled, kissing the nape of her neck.
She reached back and pulled his arms around her. "I'll try not to dwell on that," she said, leaning back against him. She twisted her head to look at him. "Y' know, I'm tired, but I don't feel sleepy."
"Let's take a shower, and get into bed," he suggested.
She grinned. "Deal!"
She got up and went into the bathroom. Martin locked the cabin door. Claudia set the shower running, then returned to where she had left her suitcase and began to unpack some clean clothing. As she lifted the items she gave a small grunt of annoyance.
"Martin, someone's been messing with my things!"
"What?" He went over to look inside her open case. Everything looked neatly packed. "How do you know?"
She clicked her tongue. "Martin, a woman knows when her things have been messed with! The questions are, who did it, and why?"
"Maybe it's another one of the staff, trying to cause trouble like Greg did."
She shook her head. "I'm not convinced. This has been done too carefully for that."
Mr. Grey and the Spirit from the Sky Page 16
