Canyons of Night Page 11

“Remember,” Slade said. “No one in this office talks to anyone about the investigation. Clear?”

  “Clear,” Kirk said.

  “Clear,” Myrna said. “Nothing like this has happened around here since those two hikers got lost in the Preserve five years ago.”

  The door opened. Devin charged into the office. In his excitement, he forgot to remove his sunglasses.

  “What’s a stalker, Grandma?” he demanded.

  They all looked at Myrna.

  “A stalker is a very bad person,” Myrna said. She glanced at Slade. “Right, Chief?”

  “Right,” Slade said. “Very bad.”

  Devin frowned. “Do you think the dead guy came here to hurt Miss Enright?”

  “It’s a possibility,” Slade said.

  “In that case, I’m glad he croaked,” Devin said fiercely. He whirled and ran back toward the door. “I gotta go tell Nate.”

  The door closed behind him.

  Myrna sighed. “Some things seem so much simpler when you’re that age.”

  “Yes,” Slade said. “They do. I’ll be in my office if you find anything.”

  He went down the hall. Rex was napping on his back on top of the row of file cabinets that lined the wall. All six paws were in the air. The stolen purse was nearby.

  “I hope you’re enjoying the hell out of that purse because you’re the one who’s going to have to deal with Charlotte when she discovers you ripped it off,” Slade warned. “Don’t expect me to pay for it.”

  Rex’s blue eyes snapped open. He rolled to his hind legs, picked up the purse, and hopped down onto Slade’s desk.

  Slade reached for the crystal-studded bag. “Let me see that thing.”

  Rex chortled and graciously released the antique purse. When Slade took it he got a little jolt of energy. It was like inhaling a woman’s tantalizing perfume. Pleasant and ever-so-slightly exhilarating.

  “You’re getting a rush out of the energy infused in this thing, aren’t you?” he said to Rex. “Must be a psychic version of dust bunny catnip.”

  Rex chortled happily. He retrieved the purse and scampered up onto the wide windowsill. He started to bat the cord that controlled the slatted shades.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going to try to take it away from you,” Slade said. “That purse is your problem. I’ve got enough of my own.”

  He lowered himself into the ancient chair behind the big, battered desk. Both pieces of furniture looked as if they had served several generations of his predecessors. He was pretty sure that the desk, along with the vintage wooden chairs, slatted window blinds, and file cabinets filled with yellowed paperwork, qualified as antiques. Like the town, the police station looked as if it had been caught in a time warp.

  The desk chair groaned when he turned to face the computer. He had thought about picking up a can of oil down at Herb’s Marine Supply but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble. He wouldn’t be hanging around long enough to bother with repairs and maintenance issues.

  The one piece of equipment in the office that qualified as state-of-the-art was the computer. It was not department issue. It was his personal computer. He fired it up and settled in to do some serious research on Jeremy Gaines. Kirk could handle the routine background check. He would be able to access police department and business records but he did not have access to the FBPI files. If Gaines had been involved in the dangerous world of the para-weapons business, the information was more likely to be buried in the Office files.

  Half an hour later he sat back and thought about what he had discovered. He contemplated possibilities for a while and then he picked up the phone and made a call.

  When he finished the phone call, he got up and started for the door.

  Rex grabbed the purse and leaped down to the floor to follow. Slade picked him up and plopped him on his shoulder.

  “If I were you, I’d hide the purse,” he said.

  Rex ignored him.

  Chapter 11

  “YES, DAD, I’M FINE, REALLY.” CHARLOTTE STOOD BEhind the sales counter, holding the phone to her ear with one hand while she studied the screen of her computer. “It doesn’t look like I’m going to be arrested for murder, at any rate.”

  “Arrested.” Daniel Enright was both stunned and outraged. “Are you telling me that there was ever the slightest possibility of your being charged with that bastard’s murder? You said the authorities called it a heart attack.”

  “Right, right, a heart attack,” Charlotte said soothingly. “I was just trying to reassure you.”

  “Using the words arrested and murder in the same sentence is not a good way to reassure me.”

  “I didn’t mean to alarm you, really. Everything is under control.”

  “I was right about Gaines, wasn’t I?” Daniel said grimly. “He was stalking you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean, maybe? Why else would he have followed you to Rainshadow?”

  “I’m not sure, Dad, but it’s possible he came here to steal something from my shop.”

  “And dropped dead at the scene?” Daniel did not try to hide his skepticism.

  “I know, it doesn’t sound very likely, does it? But that’s how it looks.”

  A dark shadow blocked the light that had been streaming through the glass door pane. Charlotte looked out toward the street and saw Slade. Rex was on his shoulder. Slade tried the door. When it did not open he looked at her through the window.

  Phone clamped to her ear, she moved out from behind the counter and crossed the room to unlock the door.

  “There’s really nothing to worry about, Dad,” she said. “The local chief of police happens to be a talent who used to work for the FBPI. He knows what he’s doing.”

  “Since when does a former FBPI agent take over a small-town police department?”

  “He’s making a career change. Hang on a second. He’s here now. His name is Slade Attridge.” She opened the door.

  Slade walked into the shop. Rex made excited noises. He waved the beaded purse at Charlotte.

  “So that’s where it went,” Charlotte said. “I had a feeling it had been stolen.”

  “What’s going on?” Daniel demanded on the other end of the phone. “What was stolen?”

  “Nothing, never mind,” Charlotte said. She pointed to the phone and mouthed the words my dad to Slade.

  “Let me talk to him,” Slade said. He plucked the phone from her fingers before she could object. “This is Slade Attridge. Yes, Mr. Enright, I’m the chief of police here on Rainshadow. Right. Yes. I understand, sir. No, she’s not a suspect. Yes, believe it or not, I do know what I’m doing. I’ll give you the name and number of my former boss. You can call him to get some background on me if you’ve got questions. Got a pen?”

  There was a pause. Charlotte heard her father’s muffled voice. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, exasperated. Of course her father had questions. Daniel Enright was a strategy-talent. He hadn’t become the CEO of a successful corporation by taking others on faith. He always looked below the surface.

  A few seconds later Slade spoke into the phone again. “His name is Special Agent Thomas West. He works out of the Resonance City office.” Slade rattled off a phone number. “Tell whoever answers the phone that I gave you that number. Yes, sir, I’ll keep an eye on Charlotte.”

  Charlotte made a face. “This is so irritating.”

  Slade met her eyes while he continued talking to her father. “Yes, sir, I am aware that there was some history between Charlotte and the victim.”

  Charlotte winced.

  “Yes, I agree. Gaines’s death was more than a little suspicious under the circumstances. If it was murder it was by paranormal means and there’s a special department within the FBPI that investigates those kinds of crimes. As it happens, that’s the department I worked for when I was with the Bureau. Yes, sir, I have investigated this kind of thing before.” Slade paused, listening. “Charlotte told you I was making a career change?”


  Charlotte started to smile. Slade raised his brows but his tone remained respectful.

  “Yes, sir, I’m planning to open a private security consulting firm,” Slade said. “I’ll be catering to Arcane-connected corporations like Enright, Inc., as a matter of fact. Yes, sir, I’m aware that there are very few security consultants who understand the problem of securing data and records against corporate espionage agents who possess paranormal powers. It’s a niche market but, I think, a potentially lucrative one.”

  There was another pause.

  “Yes, sir. Getting back to Jeremy Gaines, I did some research on him this morning. Looks like he probably had more than a few enemies. I have reason to believe that he was in the business of peddling stolen antiquities.”

  Charlotte blinked. “Jeremy was in the black market?”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll keep you informed,” Slade said into the phone. “Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do here.”

  He ended the connection and handed the phone back to Charlotte. “Your father is calling my contact at the Bureau as we speak to make sure that I’m actually qualified to keep an eye on you.”

  “Sorry about that,” she said ruefully. “My family has always been a little overprotective of me. You know how it is when you’re the youngest and the only girl.”

  “No,” Slade said evenly. “I don’t know how it is to be the youngest and the only girl.”

  She flushed. “Sorry. I guess you don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s not just that I’m the only girl in the family, it’s the panic attack thing and the fact that it’s linked to my talent. Everyone has the impression that I’m delicate. Never mind, tell me what you discovered about Jeremy. Was he really dealing stolen goods?”

  “Looks like it. I did some rough research using the Bureau’s files. I haven’t had time to check out the details but from what I could determine Gaines moved in murky circles. I don’t think he was actually a collector, just a broker.”

  “That explains why he never offered to show me his private collection. He probably didn’t have one.”

  “It gets more interesting. He wasn’t just dealing stolen antiquities. There are strong indications that he specialized in the really dangerous stuff.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean by dangerous?”

  “Weapons-grade para-antiques and antiquities. Objects that are powerful enough to kill.”

  “Oh, man. I know there’s a market for that kind of thing but I’ve never gone anywhere near it. I told you, he came to me looking for an Old World snow globe, a pretty toy, not some kind of para-weapon.”

  “And you did locate the snow globe.”

  “Yes. But as I said, I never gave him Mrs. Lambert’s name.”

  “Doesn’t mean he wasn’t able to find out her identity. If I’m right about Gaines, he was a pro. He survived for quite a while in a very dangerous business. All he had to do was follow you around or bug your phone calls or download data from your computer in order to discover Lambert’s identity.”

  She chilled. “Do you really think I led him to her? I have always tried to maintain good security for my clients.”

  “If Gaines was working the para-weapons market, he would have had the skills and the talent to break through any security system you bought off the shelf.”

  Charlotte felt utterly stricken. “If he managed to find Mrs. Lambert through me, then maybe her death wasn’t from natural causes. Maybe he killed her. Maybe I’m responsible.”

  “Take it easy.” Slade frowned. “You’re starting to hyperventilate. Breathe.”

  “Right.” She forced herself to go into the breathing ritual. “Damn, I hate this.”

  “You’re not responsible for Mrs. Lambert’s death. I checked that angle out, too. She died in the hospital of natural causes. She was there for several days. Her family was at her bedside.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “You said Lambert gave the bulk of her collection to one of the Arcane Society museums before she died?”

  “Yes, the Frequency City branch. The museum got everything except for the few pieces that she bequeathed to me in her will.”

  “Where are those objects?”

  “Here.” Charlotte waved a hand toward the crowded back room. “In some of those crates that Jeremy pried open. But there was an inventory with the bequest and I can assure you that there was no Old World snow globe listed. Believe me, anything that valuable would have gone to the museum.”

  “I checked,” Slade said. “The museum staff is still unpacking and cataloging the glassware they received from Lambert but they’ve got a detailed inventory. Someone is going through it now to see if there is an Old World snow globe on the list. I should have an answer tomorrow.”

  She was impressed. “You did all of that research today?”

  “It helps to have Bureau connections.”

  “Sounds like it.”

  Slade surveyed the shop. “Gaines thought there was something here that was of value to him, presumably that snow globe. He broke in to search for it. Someone else followed him here to kill him. Whoever it was must have been after the globe, too. The question is, did the killer find it?”

  “If he did, it would have been by pure chance. The objects that Mrs. Lambert left me were packed in with a lot of other glassware from my shop.” She paused. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “All of the glassware I deal in is psi-infused.”

  “Para-antiques are your specialty,” Slade said. “What about it?”

  “I’m sure you’re aware that glass is tricky in general because it doesn’t conform to the standard laws of para-physics.”

  “Something about it having the properties of both a solid and a liquid.”

  “Right. And glass infused with paranormal energy is downright unpredictable. What’s more, a lot of psi-glass packed together in a crate would produce a tremendous amount of interference. Even a talent with a strong affinity for glass, like a glass-light reader, for instance, wouldn’t be able to identify the radiation given off by a particular item if it was surrounded by a lot of other hot objects.” Charlotte looked around at the crowded shop. “And the problem would increase exponentially if there was a lot of other energy in the vicinity.”

  “Which would definitely be the case in here,” Slade concluded.

  “So, it’s just barely possible that the killer found what he was looking for that night but the odds are against it.”

  “Which means that he may come back to take another look,” Slade said.

  Charlotte pursed her lips, thinking. “Seems like it would be a lot easier to just pop into the shop posing as a collector of old snow globes.”

  “Good point,” Slade said. “Let me know if that happens.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know. I have to say, it has occurred to me that there’s an upside to this situation.”

  “That would be?”

  “You indicated that you were bored with your job here on Rainshadow. Now, at least, you have something to keep you occupied.”

  The edge of his mouth kicked up a little at one corner. “I’ll try to remember to think positive. I’ve advised Willis and Myrna that we’ve got a murder case on our hands but I’ve ordered them not to talk about it to anyone. Meanwhile, we’re going to let the stalker-who-dropped-dead-from-a-heart-attack scenario stand as the official explanation of this situation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, with luck, the killer will conclude that there is no active investigation and that you are not a threat to him.”

  She took a sharp little breath. “Do you really think that whoever killed Gaines might come after me?”

  “I think you’ll be safe as long as you and the local police appear to be satisfied that Gaines was a stalker.”

  “You are the local police.”

  Slade gave her hi
s hunter’s smile.

  “Yes,” he said. “I am.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “What I just promised your father I would do. Keep an eye on you.”

  Chapter 12

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING SLADE OPENED THE DOOR of the Kane Gallery and moved inside. Rex rode on his shoulder.

  Fletcher Kane, the proprietor of the gallery, stood at a table with Jasper Gilbert, the artist whose work hung in the Kane Gallery. They were examining a canvas on the table. The men looked up when Slade entered.

  “Good afternoon, Chief,” Fletcher said in his urbane, cultured tones. “Hope you aren’t too put off by recent events here in Shadow Bay. I can guarantee you that dead bodies don’t routinely turn up in our fair town.”

  “That’s what people keep telling me,” Slade said. “Thought I’d bring you up to date, Mr. Mayor.”

  His senses were closed down but the paintings on the walls of the gallery still succeeded in stirring the hair on his nape. The images were fiercely luminous scenes of the island. What set them apart from the works of other local painters was the surreal, otherworldly quality. The greens were psi green, the kind of green that was found only in the ruins and the Underworld. The reds and yellows were so hot it was a wonder that they did not set fire to the canvas. Whether by intention or artistic intuition, Gilbert succeeded in capturing the nexus energy of the island, Slade thought.

  Fletcher Kane was currently serving as Shadow Bay’s part-time mayor. He looked very much the way one expected the owner of a modestly successful gallery to look. With his lean frame, silver hair, and patrician features he exuded a refined elegance. Amber and gold rings gleamed on his long, tapered fingers. You had to look hard to see the dangerous edge beneath the surface.

  Jasper Gilbert, on the other hand, possessed just the right degree of scruffy eccentricity that one expected from an artist. He was big and bearded. His sweatshirt and baggy pants were stained with ancient and new paint splatters.

  Both men were in their early seventies. According to the background research Slade had gathered on them, they had lived on the island for nearly three decades.