Canyons of Night Page 12

  Jasper eyed Rex. “Does the rule against bribing an officer of the law extend to said officer’s dust bunny?”

  “No,” Slade said. “As far as I can see Rex doesn’t pay a lot of attention to the rules.”

  “Well, in that case, I believe I’ve got some leftover zucchini bread in the back room.”

  “Rex will be thrilled,” Slade said.

  “I’ll go get it.”

  He disappeared into the back room.

  Fletcher Kane studied Rex. “What’s he got in his paw? Looks like an old evening bag.”

  “Rex purloined it from Looking Glass.”

  “Purloined? Would that be professional cop jargon for ‘ripped off’?”

  “It would,” Slade said. “Charlotte tells me the damn purse is worth a few hundred bucks.”

  “Don’t even think about trying to slip that into departmental expenses,” Fletcher warned. “As mayor, I assure you I would spot it immediately.”

  “I’ll try to hide it under office supplies.”

  “Forget it,” Fletcher said. “How goes the investigation?”

  “The investigation is ongoing, as we in the police business like to say,” Slade said. “But for now it looks like a guy who was stalking Charlotte dropped dead in her back room.”

  “Convenient,” Fletcher observed.

  “Yes,” Slade said. “Very.”

  Fletcher looked knowing. “You’re not buying it are you?”

  “Not for a minute,” Slade said. “My department is aware that we are conducting a murder investigation and so is Charlotte. I’m keeping you in the loop because you’re the mayor. I realize that means that Jasper is also in the loop.”

  “A goodly number of people.”

  “Yes.”

  “You know what they say—if two or more people know a secret it is no longer a secret.”

  “I’m going to have to take that chance for now.”

  Jasper emerged from the back room with a large slice of zucchini bread on a plate. He set the plate on the counter. Rex watched each move with close attention.

  “Help yourself, Wonder Bunny,” Jasper said.

  Rex chortled with glee and hopped down onto the counter. He put his purse aside and attacked the zucchini bread with gusto.

  “That zucchini bread looks vaguely familiar,” Slade said. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it was made by Thelma Duncan.”

  “Good guess,” Jasper said. “It’s not that it isn’t great zucchini bread. It’s more a case of, who really likes zucchini bread?”

  “Rex, evidently,” Fletcher said.

  They all watched Rex polish off the bread.

  “It’s amazing,” Slade said. “He’s been eating zucchini bread every day since we hit the island last week and he never gets tired of it.”

  “Lucky Rex,” Fletcher said. “We had our fill about forty-eight hours into zucchini season. Don’t tell Thelma but we started composting the stuff.”

  Jasper lounged against the counter. “So what really happened in the back room of Looking Glass, Chief?”

  “Death by paranormal means,” Slade said.

  Fletcher and Jasper exchanged an unreadable look.

  Fletcher turned back to Slade. “That’s not good. Ghost-hunter work? Some hunters can pull a lot of ghost light aboveground.”

  “No, I’ve seen people who were killed with ghost fire. This is different.”

  “Got any theories?” Jasper asked.

  Slade gave them what he had. Both men absorbed the information in a thoughtful silence.

  “Black-market antiquities,” Jasper said. “Interesting. I always figured there was nothing but junk in Looking Glass.”

  “Gaines may have been after some relic that was shipped from Charlotte’s Frequency City shop,” Slade said. “She handled some high-end objects. I stopped here today to ask a favor.”

  “Certainly,” Fletcher said. “What can we do for you?”

  “Willis and Myrna are good but they’ve had zero experience in the illegal antiquities trade. Can’t say I’ve had a lot, myself. It wasn’t my specialty when I was an agent. But I figure you two probably know as much if not more about the business than most people do. It would be helpful if you could give me some background.”

  Jasper looked intrigued. “You think we’re experts because we’re in the art world?”

  “That and the fact that you are both Guild men. A lot of smuggling goes on in the Underworld. The Guilds handle protection for every corporation and research lab working the ruins underground. That means you know smuggling and you know antiquities.”

  Fletcher and Jasper looked at each other again, once more exchanging a silent message. Then they turned back to Slade.

  “Out of sheer curiosity, how the hell did you figure out that we were both Guild men?” Fletcher asked.

  “I’ve worked with some ghost hunters,” Slade said. “There’s a look.”

  Jasper elevated one bushy brow. “FBPI intuition?”

  “Well, that and the fact that I ran you both through the Bureau’s files.”

  Fletcher grimaced. “Should have seen that coming.”

  “Guess it’s what we get for asking Adam Winters to recommend a candidate for the police chief position here on Rainshadow,” Jasper said.

  Chapter 13

  THERE WAS SOMETHING VERY POWERFUL INSIDE THE wooden crate. An icy-hot frisson feathered Charlotte’s senses. She had unpacked about half of the objects. She studied the jumble of bubble-wrapped antiques that remained inside. It was impossible to tell which one of them was giving off the currents of strong energy.

  The doorbell chimed just as she selected one of the bulky packages. A subtle sense of awareness shifted through her. She did not need to look toward the door to know that Slade was there. She watched him walk into the front room. His lean frame and broad shoulders were silhouetted against the daylight filtering through the windows. Rex was with him. The dust bunny chortled a greeting.

  She put down the bulky, plastic-shrouded object she had just taken from the box and walked into the sales room. She stopped a short distance away.

  “Good morning,” she said. She looked at Rex. “Glad to see that Rex is enjoying his clutch.”

  “He carries it everywhere,” Slade said.

  “Are you, perhaps, a tad concerned about what it does to your image to be seen with a sidekick who carries a beaded clutch bag?”

  “No,” Slade said.

  She smiled. “Of course not.”

  “I stopped in to tell you that I just talked to the ME over in Thursday Harbor. They’re calling Gaines’s death a heart attack. There are no signs of foul play and they have no one pushing them to do an autopsy.”

  “As you predicted,” she said. “But you’re still certain that Jeremy was murdered?”

  “No question.”

  “What happens now?”

  “I’m looking deeper into Gaines’s background but it’s going to take time. He was a pro. He knew how to cover his tracks.”

  “What exactly are you looking for?”

  “Clients, other dealers he may have worked with. His competition. When a guy like Gaines gets killed, it’s almost always business-related. I thought I’d take another look at the scene of the crime.”

  She waved a hand toward the back room. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ve moved some stuff around,” she warned.

  “Doesn’t matter. The kind of evidence I’m looking for will still be there.”

  “Psi residue?”

  “Right.” He walked into the back room and crouched down in the area where Jeremy’s body had been found. Charlotte started to follow him and then stopped. There was no sign of Rex.

  “Where’s your dust bunny?” she said.

  “Not my bunny.” Slade crouched down and studied the floorboards.

  Charlotte did a quick search of the premises. She found Rex perched on a Second Century tall clock. He had
the clutch purse open beside him. When he saw her he chortled innocently and blinked his baby blues.

  Satisfied that Rex was not bent on the destruction of her shop, she went to stand in the doorway of the back room. Energy shivered in the atmosphere. She knew that Slade was running a little hot, not fully cranked but definitely rezzed. She folded her arms and propped one shoulder against the doorjamb.

  As she watched, he ran his fingertips across the floor. After a moment he got to his feet and walked slowly toward the rear door. He hunkered down a second time.

  “What do you see?” she asked, fascinated.

  “Same thing I saw the first time. I told myself that I was wrong but now I’m not so sure.”

  “Not sure about what?”

  “Cause of death.” He got to his feet.

  “But you said it was by paranormal means.”

  “No question about that. But as I told you, the ability to commit murder with psi energy is extremely rare. Any talent who could kill from this distance aboveground would have to be unusually powerful or possess an enhancing device. Maybe both.”

  “Right. So?”

  Slade looked down at the floor just inside the door, a cold, thoughtful expression hardening his features. “I can see the residue of the energy that was laid down by the killer when the murder was committed. It’s strong.” He walked slowly back to where Gaines’s body had been found. “But it is not, in and of itself, a lethal type of talent.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that the killer must have used a device of some kind to commit the murder. The thing is, para-weapons leave traces just like mag-rez pistols leave shell casings. This stuff doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. Definitely not crystal-based energy.”

  “Alien technology, maybe?”

  “No, alien technology leaves its own unique tracks. No question but that this was human psi generated through a para-weapon. But whatever it was, it was not a crystal gun.”

  “It was bad enough knowing that Jeremy was involved in the black market, but to think that he might have been dealing para-weapons is appalling. How could he do such a thing?”

  Slade looked amused. “Do I really need to answer that?”

  She sighed. “No. He was a sociopath so I guess it’s no surprise that he had no qualms about the kind of antiques and antiquities he traded. Any luck tracking down his associates?”

  “Some. Kane and Gilbert gave me the names of some heavy players in the black market. I came up with a few more from the Bureau’s files. But it takes time to check alibis. I’ve got Willis working on it now.”

  “What happens next?”

  “As I told Kane and Gilbert, the investigation is ongoing.”

  She took a deep breath and braced herself. “Given that status, would you like to have dinner at my place tonight?”

  He did not answer immediately, just studied her with a speculative expression.

  She flushed, took off her glasses and concentrated on removing a tiny smudge with the hem of her T-shirt. “Sorry. I had the impression that you might be willing to risk a second date. If I got that part wrong, it’s okay. I understand, really.”

  “You didn’t get it wrong,” he said, his voice perfectly neutral. “What do you want me to bring?”

  Her spirits lifted. “Maybe you’d better bring the beer. I don’t have any and I wouldn’t know what brand to buy for you.”

  “Fine. I’ll bring the beer. What time?”

  She eyed him closely. “You’re really not worried about another date?”

  “What additional damage could you possibly do to my ego this time around that you didn’t do the first time?”

  She cleared her throat. “That’s one way to look at it. Why don’t you come over around six thirty? That will give me time to close the shop and pick up a few things at the grocery store.”

  “That works. See you tonight.”

  He walked past her into the front room.

  Charlotte plunked the glasses back on her nose, got unstuck from the floor, and hurried after him.

  “Wait,” she called.

  He stopped, one big hand wrapped around the doorknob. “What?”

  “Thanks,” she said. She stopped. “I appreciate the second chance. I’ll try not to screw things up this time around.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  “We’ll keep everything casual,” she promised. “Just a couple of friends getting together for dinner.”

  “As opposed to the two-talents-stranded-on-an-island scenario?”

  “Right.”

  “Is that the way you want it?”

  “It’s probably best for now,” she said. Wistful regret shadowed her eyes.

  “Why am I getting the feeling that you’re the one who’s nervous?”

  “I am nervous,” she admitted. “I told you, when it comes to dating I’ve got a lousy track record.”

  “Maybe you should stop trying to analyze your dates’ rainbows.”

  “It’s a hard habit to break,” she said.

  “Maybe you need more practice.”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “See you at six thirty.”

  She relaxed slightly. “Great.”

  “I’ll bring the zucchini bread.”

  “Don’t bother. Thelma Duncan left two more loaves on my doorstep this morning.”

  “Rex will be excited.”

  A small, distinct clang reverberated from the corner of the shop.

  “Rex!” Charlotte yelped. She glared at Slade. “Your dust bunny is destroying my business.”

  “Not my dust bunny,” Slade said.

  Charlotte whirled around, searching for signs of mass destruction. She saw movement near the back wall and rushed through the tightly packed space. She finally saw Rex. He was perched on top of a dusty glass cabinet that contained an array of small amber and crystal objects. He had the clutch bag open and was in the process of leaning over the edge and reaching into the cabinet for one of the items on the top shelf.

  “No,” Charlotte said sternly. “You will not touch that. It’s a Marilyn Stone lady’s compact and it is worth at least eight hundred bucks.”

  “Forget the compact, Rex,” Slade said.

  Rex abandoned the compact and chortled at Charlotte. He cocked his head to the side in what he no doubt thought was a cute, appealing manner.

  Charlotte patted him somewhere in the vicinity of the top of his head. “I know what you’re up to,” she said. “You are trying to pretend that you are a sweet, cuddly little pet, but you are not fooling me. Not for a minute.”

  “Let’s go, Rex,” Slade said from the door.

  Rex bustled down from the glass cabinet with his clutch and flitted across the floor. Slade scooped him up and tucked him under one arm.

  “Tonight,” Slade said to Charlotte.

  There was a dark promise in the words. Charlotte stilled.

  “What about tonight?” she managed to ask.

  “I’ll take you into the Preserve after dark.”

  Excitement flashed through her. She smiled. “Great, something to look forward to. Besides the zucchini bread, I mean. It’s been fifteen years since I last broke the law and did some trespassing.”

  “I don’t want to spoil the moment but I have to tell you that, technically speaking, you won’t be breaking any laws if you go into the Preserve with me this time.”

  “To say I’m disappointed would be an understatement. Why won’t I be doing anything illegal with you tonight?”

  “As the duly constituted representative of the forces of law and order in these parts, I’m expected to deal with any illegal activities therein.”

  “But there isn’t much in the way of illegal activity due to the fence.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m not obligated to go in and patrol the place once in a while.”

  She laughed. “So I’ll be doing a sort of civilian ride-along tonight?”

  “Except we’ll be on foot.
”

  He opened the door and went outside onto the street with Rex. She leaned on the counter for a moment, watching Slade until he was out of sight. Little thrills of anticipation splashed across her senses. You’re getting a second chance, woman. Whatever you do, don’t screw up this time. You can do this.

  She straightened and went into the back room to finish unpacking the crate. Now that Slade was no longer around to distract her senses, she became aware once again of the dark energy leaking out of one of the bubble-shrouded antiques inside the shipping container.

  She jacked up her talent a couple of notches and reached for the bundled object that she had been about to take out when Slade had interrupted her.

  The instant she touched it, she knew that whatever was inside was the object emitting the strong energy. The object was surprisingly heavy for its size.

  Carefully she started to unwrap the antique. As she got closer she could make out the dome shape. A chill of awareness and excitement shot through her. The antique was very similar to a snow globe in shape.

  But when she peeled away the fine layer of bubble wrap, disappointment settled on her like a wet blanket. She was holding a paperweight, not a snow globe. The antique was made of glass but it was opaque, not clear. She shook it gently. Nothing happened. There was no scene inside, no sparkling snow.

  The paperweight was quite old. She kicked up her senses again. Really old, she thought. It was almost certainly an Old World object. In addition there was a large amount of energy in it. The combination made it almost priceless to certain collectors and museums. The paperweight might be a dull-looking object but it held the potential to be the biggest sale of her career.

  She put it on a table and picked up the itemized list that had accompanied the bequest. She had already examined it but she wanted to be certain.

  As she had remembered, there was no gray glass paperweight with an Old World provenance on the list. Don’t get your hopes up, she thought. A mistake had no doubt been made when the museum staff had packed up Evelyn Lambert’s vast collection. It was easy enough to see how a simple, rather unattractive paperweight had been overlooked and put into the wrong box.

  There was only one way to be sure that she had a right to the paperweight. She would contact the Lambert family lawyer to explain the situation. Meanwhile, the first priority was to find a secure place to stash the object. She remembered the old antique safe that her aunt had installed years earlier in the floor. It would be perfect.