Murdoch had contributed to the mayor’s last campaign.
Cobb frowned. “In view of what’s happened—”
”Let me finish, please.” A flush turned the mayor’s sallow cheeks apple red. “I promised Daryl that your officer’s witless pursuit of him would end. Yet”—she leaned forward, one hand chopping as fast as a sous chef ’s knife—“I personally saw her stop his car yesterday afternoon, lights flashing, everything but a siren.” The chief’s dark brows bunched in a frown. “Yesterday? What time?” The mayor looked triumphant. “Right after five o’clock. I was leaving our lot. I stopped and watched. She came up to his window and leaned down in a most menacing fashion.” I nodded. That explained the picture in Daryl’s cell. Had he taken it intending to show his friend the mayor? It was too bad I didn’t have the cell with me. I would poke it into the thickest portion of her beehive hairdo. I looked about for something that might work.
“Five o’clock.” Chief Cobb’s spoke in a considering tone. “Probably not close enough in time to be helpful.”
“Helpful?” The mayor glared, all pretense of civility gone. “How can it be helpful when a police officer disregards her superior’s instructions?” And, of course, made the mayor look ineffectual.
“Too bad she didn’t follow him this time. It might have saved his life. But I’ll talk to her, see if she picked up anything useful. Now . . .” He stood.
“Saved . . .” The mayor’s mouth gaped, revealing two gold crowns.
“You miss the morning news?” His tone was bland.
Bobby Mac and I always started the morning with Channel 4 news
Ca ro ly n H a rt
and
The mayor lifted her rounded chin. “I avoid television in the morn-ings. I focus on the positive. The world pummels us with negative images, turning our citizens fearful and defensive. As a concerned citizen and a devoted public servant”—she raised a clenched fist—“I demand to know why—”
“Yeah. Like you said in your last campaign, Neva. How did you put it? Embrace the positive, shed the draining chains of negativity.
I’d sure agree that skipping the morning news gives you a head start.
But you missed out today. Somebody shot Daryl Murdoch last night.
His body was found in St. Mildred’s cemetery.”
“His body?” The mayor’s mouth gaped like a hungry fish.
I edged an adorable thumb-size porcelain dog toward the edge of the chief ’s desk, my eyes fastened on that tempting mound of bleached hair.
A massive hand clamped on my wrist.
I shrieked.
“Shhh.” A warning growl.
The mayor’s chair tumbled backward. She stood and stared at the small porcelain figure that was still cupped in my palm, clearly hovering an inch above the chief’s desk.
The chief bounded to his feet, but he was looking at the mayor, not at his desk.
I opened my fingers and the little dog slid to the desktop.
Trembling, Mayor Lumpkin swung about and bolted heavily from the room.
Chief Cobb leaned forward, punched the intercom. “Colleen, you’d better let the mayor’s husband know that she”—he paused—
“isn’t feeling well. Have the technicians check out the heating system.
It made a strange noise. Kind of shrill. Then a whooshing sound.”
G h o s t at Wo r k
He grabbed a notebook and pen. As he walked toward the door, he righted the chair and swept the room with a final, puzzled glance.
The minute the door closed, I heard a deep-throated rumble, not so distant this time and definitely not thunder. “Bailey Ruth.” If Wiggins had been visible, I feared his face might have that high red flush that used to be called apoplectic.
“Precept Six.” His voice rose almost to a shout. “Precept Six. ‘Make every effort—’ ”
My head swiveled as I followed the sound of his voice. Wiggins was pacing back and forth in front of me. Perhaps if I offered a cold compress . . .
“—not to alarm earthly creatures.’ And what have you just done?”
Nervously I picked up the little porcelain dog.
“There you go again.” He was breathing heavily.
“I haven’t gone anywhere,” I protested, sure of that fact. I was still here. I hadn’t moved—
“That dog! Put it down. Its levitation astounded that poor woman.”
Served her right in my view, but, of course, I kept this thought to myself. I carefully eased the little dog to the desktop.
“Once again you have transgressed the Precepts. Moreover, you are Reverting!” His tone put the accusation on the level of gravest malfeasance.
