“What is this?” Dennis looked from the ghost to Spinner and then finally to Bobo. “She remembers both of you guys, but not me?”
Bobo lifted his shoulders and made a face that suggested his contentment with being clueless. “Maybe it’s our skin?”
“That’s stupid.” Spinner kept his eyes firmly averted from the ghost.
Bobo shrugged again. “Well, I mean, what else could it be?”
“It does so remind me of Dante,” Evy sighed wistfully.
Bobo blinked. “Who?”
“The servant boy,” Dennis realized. He rubbed his forehead. “God, I’m stupid. Elspeth mentioned him, remember?”
“Yeah, she said Evy weren’t too nice to him.”
“It must have been an act, or maybe Elspeth just didn’t recognize flirtation when she saw it. She was pretty young, after all.” He looked at Evy. “That was it, wasn’t it? You and the servant – Dante – were lovers.” The ghost said nothing, but the look of humble embarrassment on her face was answer enough. “Actually,” Dennis continued, turning back to Spinner, “Elspeth mentioned that someone else had visited Evy, back when she first appeared. She said that he had dark skin. So, that fits with what you were saying, too.”
“I’m so pleased.” The detective still wouldn’t look at Evy. He looked sick, Dennis thought. With a sigh, he held out his hand to Bobo.
“Give me the knife.”
“Here, September, the bloke’s on our side!”
“I know,” Dennis replied. “That’s why I’m cutting him loose.”
“Oh. Well, you had it last.”
It took a moment of searching, but Dennis finally found the blade near where he had cut the tablecloth into strips. He took care in freeing Spinner’s limbs, worried that the man might lash out as soon as the bonds were gone. He watched Dennis closely, but only moved to gently massage the places where he had been tied.
“You’re still in deep shit, kid,” the detective muttered.
“Don’t I know it,” Dennis said with a sigh. “I told Sam that I’d be there with the key. He’s going to get pretty suspicious when I don’t show up.”
Spinner’s brow furrowed, and he looked around the room for something. Before Dennis could say anything else, the detective pulled his shoes from underneath the chair. “What key?” he asked.
This constant repetition was becoming tedious. “Sam and Eric had a safety deposit box where they stored the money from their last job. Eric had the key to it, but he gave it to his daughter.”
“It must have been a lot, if it was worth waiting this long for. Why trust... you know, her... with access?”
Dennis glanced at the chair, empty again, and wondered if the ghost could still hear them. “I’m not sure about that yet. She said she was waiting for them to get back from somewhere, but that’s it. I think she was working with them.”
“You think?” Spinner scoffed. “Damn it, kid, you’d better be sure about it before you talk to Harding.”
“Whoa, wait a minute!” said Dennis hurriedly. “I’m not going anywhere near him.”
“But now we can get him!” Spinner clapped his hands together greedily. “We can finally make him leave Elspeth alone.”
A heated discussion followed, with Dennis adopting the stance that they were better off leaving the situation behind, and Spinner insisting that they take action. Neither of them was willing to shift, and Bobo offered his own brand of input by jumping in with what were probably supposed to be amusing witticisms.
“Let’s at least find the stupid thing, okay?” Spinner finally relented. “I’ll even let you hang onto it. Just make sure that it’s out of the house in case Harding shows up.”
“Funny, he said the same thing about you,” muttered Dennis. “I’m kidding. Why would he show up now, anyway?”
“The same reason he hired you, boss.” Both Spinner and Dennis turned to look at Bobo. “What? Just me? Okay, well, the shrink was afraid that Elspeth would recognize him, yeah? But she’s not here now, and he knows it.”
“There you go, kid,” said Spinner. It was a reasonable explanation, despite being almost identical to the one that Harding had offered. If it hadn’t been for the picture that proved the psychiatrist’s deceit, Dennis might still have sided with him. He supposed that was what made the man such a successful con artist.
“I don’t suppose you know what a safety deposit box key looks like?” Dennis asked.
“Yeah, I do.” Spinner drew a shape in the air with his finger. “Back then, they usually had a clover-shaped head. If that doesn’t do it, something else will.”
“Alright. Bobo, show him the drawer.”
The three of them crowded through the door to the kitchen, with Bobo leading the way. The drawer was still open, and Dennis got his first real look at the assortment of items it held. In addition to a section dedicated entirely to keys, there was a neat stack of pens, a few loose safety pins and rubber bands, and a half-empty tube of glue. Spinner ignored the other items and started pawing through the keys, raising a few of them to his eye for inspection. One of them, apparently no different in appearance from the others, seemed to satisfy him.
“Here we go.” He held the key out for Dennis. “There’s teeth on both sides, see?” Dennis took it gingerly and turned it over in his hand. Well, he supposed he’d trust Spinner’s judgment.
“What’s the big deal with this, anyway?” Bobo asked. “Couldn’t the shrink just say he lost it?”
The detective shook his head. “The bank doesn’t keep a copy, and they’d need Eric’s signature to drill open the box. Since he’s dead, they’d need the signature of a family member.”
“Wouldn’t the shrink need a signature, too?”
“Not necessarily. He wouldn’t be able to drill it, but he could still get in with the key.”
“Wait, this doesn’t make sense.” Both men turned to Dennis. “If the Palins were here illegally, how could Eric have gotten an account in the first place?”
Spinner sighed. “It’s a bank, kid, not the port authority. Back
