by Sharon Pape
“That’s very kind,” she said, “but I have a lunch meeting right after I leave here.” She didn’t actually have a meeting, unless you counted potentially talking to Zeke, and that certainly had nothing to do with lunch, but it seemed like the most courteous way of declining the sandwich.
“Yeah, I’d pass on the PB myself if I had a better offer,” Eddie said, already biting into the second half.
In an effort to adopt a more casual, “we’re pals” kind of posture for her next round of questions, Rory leaned back against the counter a couple of feet from where Eddie was seated munching away on his sandwich. She needed to seem completely nonthreatening if she wanted him to confide in her.
“Listen, Eddie,” she said, “can we talk off the record?” She set her pen down to show him that she’d stopped taking notes.
Eddie bobbed his head. “Yeah, why not.”
“Good. I’d love to get your take on the recent rash of dog thefts. I mean, being in the dog business and all, I’m sure you’ve got your finger on the pulse of things.”
He popped the last of the sandwich into his mouth and washed it down with several loud gulps from the can of soda.
“Gotta get a fridge in here,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Warm soda just doesn’t cut it.” He paused to burp rather delicately. “Sorry, I gotta learn to eat slower and chew more. Turns out my mother was right,” he said with a sheepish grin. “So, you want my opinion on the dog thefts, huh?” He gnawed on the inside of his cheek while he thought about it. “I don’t know. Maybe the economy pushed some poor slob to do it, or maybe it’s some nut job with a bone to pick . . . ‘bone,’ hey’d you catch that?” He laughed, enjoying his own cleverness. “I’ve always had a way with words.”
Rory produced a smile, wondering what had ever given him that idea.
“Have any of your customers been hit?” she asked. Having seen the police reports from Leah, she already knew the answer, but she was interested in seeing if Eddie was going to be truthful with her.
“Yeah, six of them if you can believe it,” he said glumly. “A real bummer. Means lost business for me too.” After a moment of silence, during which he contemplated the linoleum, he raised his head and looked at her with his magnified eyes. “It’s a good thing dog people can’t stand to live without man’s best friend,” he said, perking up nicely. “After a couple of months, almost all of them bought replacements.”
Rory managed to nod, although she was taken aback by his quick emotional U-turn. She couldn’t imagine replacing Hobo as if he were a worn-out lightbulb. Of course, to be fair, the stolen dogs had not been Eddie’s pets and he did have a business to run. There was no requirement that he love or mourn the loss of every dog who passed beneath his shears.
“Unfortunately Brenda Hartley won’t be replacing her dogs anytime soon,” Rory said, keeping it vague to see if Eddie was aware of her death.
“Not in this lifetime,” he said with a low chuckle, to show her that he understood her meaning. “Not that I had anything against the woman. She paid her bills on time and almost never complained.”
“But she did complain on occasion?” Rory prompted.
“One time. She said I didn’t get all the knots and clumps out of her dog’s coat. I spent more than an hour on that big mutt. So I told her I can’t be expected to work all day on one dog unless she wanted to pay me by the hour.”
“Some people think the world revolves around them,” Rory commiserated, to see how much more she could get him to reveal. “Did she refuse to pay the bill?”
“Nah, nothing like that.” Eddie slid down from the counter and brushed a few bread crumbs off his jeans.
Rory knew she should let the Brenda line of questioning go. She was trespassing on police turf. But how was she to know which questions might field valuable information for her own case until she’d asked them? Besides, anything she learned about the murder case she’d take directly to Leah. That sealed the deal. The last nagging voice of her conscience was stilled.
“Do you think she was killed by someone who came to steal her dogs?”
Eddie frowned at her, the hoop in his eyebrow lowering until it brushed through his lashes. “Wait a minute, what the hell’s going on here? You seem a lot more interested in murder and dog thieves than you are in this article you claim to be writing.”
Rory had overplayed her hand and he was calling her bluff. She straightened up and stepped away from the counter so that she was facing him. “I’m sorry,” she said, going for sincerity with a side of humble pie. “I was laid off from my newspaper gig two months ago, and I’m having trouble letting go of the hard news angle. But the story about your business is great, and I promise to do it justice in the piece.”
Eddie stared at her for a moment, as if considering whether he should believe her. “Yeah, whatever,” he said finally. “I gotta get back to work.”
Rory thanked him again and promised to send him a copy of the magazine when it came out, but she was speaking to his back. Eddie was already halfway to the grooming area.
Chapter 16
Rory stopped at the supermarket on her way home. She’d been so busy lately that she’d been resorting to fast food and either her jeans were shrinking or she was gaining weight. She had to start eating better if she didn’t want to buy a whole new wardrobe. She filled the cart with the makings of salad, fruit for snacking, yogurt for lunch and a rotisserie chicken for dinner and stoically resisted the siren call of the cookie and chip aisles. She was reaching for fabric softener when the air in front of her started to shimmer as if she were dizzy or seeing a mirage. But since she didn’t feel light-headed and hadn’t been wandering the desert dying of thirst, she quickly realized what was happening. In that same instant Zeke appeared, at least the top half of him, as if he’d been in such a hurry that he’d forgotten to bring his legs along. In spite of this deficiency, he was still mighty pleased with himself, judging by the grin on his face.
Rory immediately checked up and down the aisle to see if anyone else was there to witness his impromptu magic act. With a sigh of relief she saw that she was alone.
“Get out of here,” she said as fiercely as she could in a whisper. “Have you lost your mind? Get out now!”
Zeke’s image wavered, faded, then disappeared bit by bit, like pixels in a television image, until only his grin was left hanging in the air, Rory’s very own Cheshire Cat. Over the past few months she’d developed a real empathy for Alice; living with the marshal was a lot like living in Wonderland. Just before Zeke’s smile winked out, an elderly couple turned into the aisle. Rory held her breath, hoping they hadn’t seen it. No such luck.
“Oh my Lord,” the elderly woman gasped, her hand flying to her heart as if that would keep the rebellious organ from jumping out of her chest. “Did you . . . did you see that?” she asked her husband, her eyes fixed on the spot where Zeke’s mouth had been just a moment earlier.
The husband, who’d been trailing a few feet behind with their cart, came to an abrupt stop beside her. “You okay, Francine?” he asked, his forehead rumpled with concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Rory had all she could do not to burst out laughing from nervous tension, but she kept a sober face while she put the bottle of fabric softener into her cart.
“I did. That’s it exactly,” Francine replied, unwilling to look away in case Zeke’s mouth did an encore performance. “You didn’t see it?”
“See what? All I see is you and that young woman up ahead. Maybe it’s the new blood pressure medicine the doctor put you on. I think you’d better call him when we get home.”
Francine finally turned to look at him with an exasperated scowl. “There isn’t a damn thing wrong with me or my medicine, you old fool,” she snapped. “If you’d just watch those programs about the ghost hunters with me, you wouldn’t be so blind to what’s going on right under your nose.”
“Okay, here we go again,” he murmured in t
he weary tone of one who’s already been down this particular path too many times. He started pushing his cart again, leaving his wife to either follow or stay behind without him.
Francine squared her narrow shoulders and marched along in his wake. As they approached Rory, who’d stopped to read the label on a bottle of stain remover, Francine couldn’t seem to resist the chance to corroborate what she’d seen and prove her husband wrong.
“Excuse me, miss,” she said hopefully, “by any chance did you happen to see something . . . well, something a bit strange a minute ago at the other end of this aisle?”
Rory was sorely tempted to tell her that she had. And more specifically that what she’d seen was a ghost, or part of one anyway. She would have loved to see the look of vindication on the older woman’s face and the look of utter shock on her husband’s. But after a quick assessment of the consequences, and with a silent apology to Francine, Rory chose to simply smile and deny that she’d seen anything out of the ordinary.
Rory set down the two grocery bags she was carrying and unlocked the front door, but when she turned the knob and tried to push it open, it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t seem possible that the door could have become warped over the past few hours. She looked at the hinges, but they looked the way they always looked. Not that she had any idea what she would be seeing if they were keeping the door from opening. Frustrated, she put her shoulder to the door and pushed again with all the power she could muster. This time it moved a couple of inches, before suddenly flying open the rest of the way. Rory lost her balance and stumbled inside, where Hobo was whirling in gleeful circles. So much for the mystery of the door. Hobo was a very effective doorstop. It would be great if all of her investigations were that easy to solve.
As she turned back to bring in her packages, she groaned. The wooden molding around the left side of the doorway had been ripped off and whittled down to a pile of toothpicks. Something must have happened to make Hobo more desperate than usual to escape and find her. And she had a good idea where to lay the blame. The problem was that she and Zeke hadn’t had much to say to one another since their last fight. Their interactions had been minimal and only related to business matters, but Rory knew if they didn’t patch things up, her family dinner could turn into a full-fledged disaster. Before the incident in the supermarket, she’d actually been on the brink of proposing a truce. Nothing seemed to please the marshal more than hearing her admit that she was wrong. But even though they’d have to come to an accommodation and soon, she was no longer in any mood to hoist a white flag. She grabbed up the groceries and stormed into the kitchen with Hobo plastered against her as if they were hobbled together in some strange five-legged race.
“Ezekiel Drummond,” she fumed as she threw the perishables into the refrigerator, “we need to talk.”
“Pleased to see you too, Aurora.” His voice floated to her through the air. “I’m afraid I’m a mite indisposed. My little outing today used up more energy than I anticipated.”
At the sound of Zeke’s disembodied voice, Hobo tucked his tail and circled Rory, whimpering and trying to find a way to scale her body and climb into her arms.
“It also seems to have set Hobo back to day one,” she raged as his claws sought purchase, scratching her thighs right through the jeans. She managed to push him down and herd him to the back door and an alternate form of sanctuary. As soon as she held the door open, he dashed outside.
“That was not my intention, but I suspect my efforts to travel cause some turmoil in the ether.”
“We agreed that you wouldn’t keep trying to do that,” she said, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, since she had no specific focus for her attention. Not only was he invisible, but his voice didn’t seem to be coming from any one direction. “You could have caused a panic in that store today. People could have been hurt.”
“That agreement had two sides to it as I recall,” Zeke said. “You were goin’ to spend some time practicin’ with me in the yard where there’s no audience besides the mutt.”
“I’ve been busy,” she said defensively, her fury losing some of its steam. He was right. She’d been putting it off, hoping he’d forget. Who was she kidding? His refusal to move beyond the here and now until he had answers about his death was testament to the fact that when he set his mind to something he never let it go.
“Okay. Okay. You’ve made your point.” She sank onto one of the chairs. “As soon as you’re up to it, we’ll get started.” If she was going to ask for his cooperation with her family it was now or never. She wouldn’t find herself in a better bargaining position anytime soon. “On one condition.”
“You do like your rules and conditions, don’t you?” There was a mocking tone to his voice, but Rory let the remark slide, more interested in moving forward.
“I’m going to have my family here for dinner next week. I want your word that you won’t suddenly appear or cause any kind of problem or spectacle.”
“I will be the very model of virtue.”
“Never mind the flowery sentiment. Trust me when I tell you that they will not let me remain here if they think I’m in any danger. And as you may have noticed during the past hundred years, for most people, ghosts equal danger.”
“Knowin’ you, it’s right hard to believe anyone could make you do what you don’t choose to.”
“Zeke . . .” She drew his name out as if it were a warning. Then the telephone rang, cutting her off. “Don’t go anywhere; we’re not done,” Rory said, reaching for the handset.
BB was on the other end. “News flash, bulletin, hot off the presses,” he said by way of greeting. “Reggie just handed me the results of the DNA tests.”
“Great.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no, it all depends on what you were hoping to find,” BB said philosophically. “Both the letter and the envelope were clean, except for a few partial prints of yours. Since there was no DNA to match the hair sample to, all we can tell you is that the owner of the hair has no criminal record.”
Rory thanked him and once again asked him to pass her gratitude on to Reggie. On a previous occasion she’d suggested that perhaps she should deal directly with him so that BB didn’t have to play middleman. BB had assured her that he didn’t mind and that his colleague preferred to remain in the shadows in a Deep Throat, undercover way.
Rory hung up the phone, frustrated. She wasn’t any closer to knowing who’d sent the threatening letter. All she could say for certain was that the sender had done a topnotch job of not leaving any clues behind.
“Joe Kovack’s DNA wasn’t on the letter,” she told the empty room. When Zeke didn’t immediately respond, she had a fleeting image of herself old and gray, talking to invisible people, a legacy of her days with the marshal. Well, old anyway; she had no intentions of being gray.
“Then we can’t eliminate him,” Zeke said finally. He sounded happy enough with the results.
“We can’t eliminate or accuse him,” Rory pointed out.
“So, how did it go with Eddie Mays?” he asked, grabbing the reins of the conversation.
She figured he didn’t want her backtracking to more ultimatums. That was fine with her; she’d said enough on the subject anyway. She had his word not to interfere with her family, and if she badgered him about it, she’d only succeed in changing his mind. Instead she related the details of her interview with Eddie.
“Sounds like a freak you’d see in a sideshow back in my day,” he said after hearing Rory’s description of the man.
“These days it’s all a sideshow,” she said with a laugh, glad to let go of the anger. “People like Eddie don’t even raise eyebrows anymore. And though I wasn’t crazy about his appearance or his attitude, as far as I could tell he was being honest with me.”
“Then we’re right back to where the bronc threw us.”
“That about sums it up,” she agreed, thinking that someday she ought to put together a book of the marshal’s pithy observations and words to
live by.
Zeke took his leave, promising to return as soon as he’d recouped enough energy. Rory was relieved to be alone. She and Hobo could use some quiet time themselves. She was trying to decide between peach and raspberry yogurt for lunch when the doorbell rang. She never had any stopby visitors, unless she counted Aunt Helene, and she saw clients by appointment only, so she couldn’t imagine who would be there in the middle of a workday. When she opened the door she found the mailman holding a manila envelope that required her signature. She’d completely forgotten about the information she’d requested from the U.S. Marshals Service.
Chapter 17
Rory took the envelope back to the kitchen, disappointed by how light it felt. Hobo was standing at the back door waiting to be let in. When she held the door open for him, he sniffed the air and cocked his head, his ears like furred antennae trolling for ghostly noises. Once he was satisfied that there was no current danger, he bounded across the threshold. He stopped for a long, noisy drink from his water bowl and then ambled over to the table where Rory was seated. He took up his usual spot at her feet, dribbling excess water on her in the process.
Rory didn’t notice. She’d opened the envelope and withdrawn the five sheets of paper that were inside. When she’d first thought of contacting the Marshals Service, she’d had, as it turned out, unrealistically high hopes of finding enough information to shed light on Zeke’s killer.
The man with whom she’d spoken at the local headquarters in Brooklyn had entered her name and address into his computer along with her request for a Freedom of Information application and immediately asked if she were related to a Michael McCain. It had taken her a second to realize that he was referring to Mac. Her uncle had only used his given name on official papers and it sounded as alien to her as if she were hearing it for the first time. Once she’d recovered her wits, she confirmed that Michael was indeed her uncle, now deceased. Apparently Mac had also requested an application from the Marshals, but according to them, he’d never returned it. One of the many pieces of his life that had been left hanging when he’d been murdered. She’d hung up the phone buoyed by the reminder that she was following in his footsteps and completing work he had started. It made her feel as if she were still bound to him by some fine cosmic thread.
