see things that they don’t. They tend to think I’m a real psychic, regardless of what I say. Or they accept the work I’m able to do, know I don’t want to explain and let it go at that. Like David. As far as others are concerned, I avoid the topic. Too many people want stock tips and that’s something I truly can’t give,” he added dryly. “Look, I’m a really early riser. I’ll run out to buy a new lock, and I’ll make sure that Jackson and the group get in here to set up some cameras. That’s something we almost always do in this kind of investigation. It’s possible that the killer will realize the Dragonslayer has been identified and try something else. But it’s also possible that...”
He paused, looking at her and wondering if he should go on.
“Possible that?” she urged. She’d stiffened, and he felt she expected his answer, but dreaded hearing it.
“A victim might appear,” he said flatly.
“What?” she whispered.
He drew in a breath, hoping he wasn’t going to sound ghoulish. “It was important for me to touch the victims today. Sometimes, the dead actually talk on the autopsy table. Kat Sokolov can tell you more about that. I may be repeating what you might already know or suspect, but...we should think about it. From what most of us have discovered, ghosts don’t like to be with their mortal remains if they’re trapped on this plane for whatever reason. But if they do stay behind, they may appear where they feel they can find someone to help them achieve justice. If any of the victims did somehow come through here, they could be caught on camera.”
She stared at him, her eyes stricken.
“You okay? You don’t need to fear the dead.”
“It’s one thing to think about Blue hanging around the tavern—he’s my ancestor and he obviously stayed because he loves the family and loves the tavern. But...”
“Murder victims only stay because they need help,” he said.
Abby nodded. “And they just might be caught on camera.”
“Don’t worry. I sleep lightly and I’m just a few steps away.”
He was surprised when her smile was deep and real.
“Funny how things go, huh? You pissed me off when I first met you. That wasn’t very long ago, and tonight I’m really glad you’re here!”
“Let’s go up, shall we?”
“Yes, let’s go up,” she said.
She walked ahead of him, directly for the stairs. When they were both back in the apartment, she locked the door to the outer hallway. It was a good measure, even if they were alone in the restaurant. She walked down the hall to her room, beyond the door that led to Gus’s. She hesitated there. “Good night.”
He found himself hesitating, too. “Good night.”
She started to speak, but paused again. “I, uh, meant what I said. I truly am grateful that you’re here.”
“I’m truly grateful that you let me be here. Though I am curious now.”
“About?”
“Your home on Chippewa Square.”
“It’s pretty,” she told him. “You’ll see.”
“Well, good night.”
“Good night,” she said. That time, she walked in and closed her door.
Malachi did the same. He smiled as he did so. There was something about her...
As he’d said, he was very glad he was there.
Again he lay awake for hours, trying to concentrate on the case and put all the facts in order. Three female victims now, and one male. The killer, to Malachi’s mind, had killed Rupert Holloway for coming too close, so the victimology didn’t completely fit. That meant the killer was after pretty young women.
Those who might be seen the way women were once seen, as damsels. Lovely young women as prizes.
They’d all been found in the river.
As if forced to walk the plank, at least, symbolically.
And then there was Gus. Dead in the tunnel.
He looked around the room in the dim light, once more wishing he could have met the man. He imagined him as temperate, prone to liking people. But he’d lived a long time and been through a lot. He loved the river, history, antiques—and his granddaughter. She’d grown up with confidence and ability and the strength to choose her own path in life.
“She’s a beauty, Gus,” he said aloud. “And a strong, smart person. I couldn’t know you, but I’m proud to know her.”
He realized that his thoughts were going in a direction he’d never expected when he’d headed down to Savannah. But there was no denying she had a beauty any man would instantly admire and somewhere in his heart—or libido—instantly desire. He’d lost Marie five years ago. When she’d died, they’d been young and madly, almost insanely, in love. While he’d engaged in a few brief relationships since her death, he’d never really known any of the women and nothing between them had ever done more than touch the surface of his emotions.
Maybe this was different because of the ghost thing.
And maybe it was because of the way she looked. Or the fire that seemed to simmer within her, a passion for laughter as well as justice.
At some point, he dozed. He wasn’t sure if he opened his eyes and saw Blue Anderson there, standing over him, and then walking to the window—or if he dreamed it. He managed to get some sleep.
His phone rang early around 7:00 a.m. It was Kat Sokolov.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
“Not really. Yes, but I need to get up.” He liked Kat. But he liked Will, too, and the other members of the Krewes he’d been brought in to meet after Adam, Logan and Jackson had brought him to their offices. She was the tiniest, cutest little blonde and didn’t look like any medical examiner he’d ever met. But she certainly knew what she was doing.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading to the morgue. I’ll be attending at the next autopsy,” she said.
“I hope the local guy, Dr. Tierney, likes you better than he seemed to like me,” he told her.
He heard the soft sound of her laughter. “Not to worry. Adam Harrison has done his magic. We’re officially invited in. Jackson and Angela will be down at the local station, giving a heads-up on what we believe, based on what we’ve seen and learned from you and Abby.”
“We’re looking for a would-be pirate,” Malachi said quietly, “who likes to take the ring finger of the left hand as a souvenir. And...I, uh, have a finger to give you.”
“What?”
“Gus was onto something. I think the killer lost one of his trophies in the tunnel, and Gus found it before he had any idea of what was going on. It might be why he asked Abby to come down here.”
“You found it where?”
“In one of his drawers. I need to get it to you.”
“I’ll run by for it,” she said. “Maybe pirates liked to make necklaces out of the bones of people they killed? I’ll research my pirate lore,” Kat promised him. “Oh, and Will’s taking over for Dirk this morning as head pirate on the Black Swan to keep an eye on that ship. And Dirk.”
“The guy really does seem devastated,” Malachi said.
“And I gather he can be a very good actor—as a pirate, at least.”
“Excellent plan. And I’ve heard Jackson gets along well with the local police.”
“He has his ways. Not that he has a lot to say yet. They’re probably looking for a white male, with or without a companion,” Kat said. “Someone who knows the river.”
“And has a boat or a ship, or access to one,” Malachi added.
“Big river,” Kat said.
“Yes, it is. Keep me posted.”
“Back at ya.”
Malachi checked his watch. Time for a cup of coffee before starting the day. In fact, he could smell coffee coming from nearby, not from the restaurant below.
