ponytail.
She gazed at Michael. Sunlight gave her chestnut hair a reddish gleam and made the spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks stand out. Her braces gleamed silver.
'If I didn't know you, Sheriff Valenti,' the girl said, 'I'd hightail it back home and call nine-one-one.'
Valenti showed her an easy smile. 'I'm glad that you didn't, Kelli.'
'However,' Kelli said, 'I also know that you're not the sheriff of Roswell anymore. And I'm guessing that you used the crowbar to break into Mr. Wilkins's garage. So I want an explanation of what you and the hunk are doing here.'
Valenti looked at Michael.
Hunk? Michael thought, feeling more than a little embarrassed. The girl was maybe twelve years old and acting way beyond her years.
'There's been an accident in town,' Valenti said, looking back at the girl.
'Mr. Wilkins had a heart attack,' Kelli said. 'I saw it on the news just after lunch. The local news team interrupted the baseball game. Then they kept interrupting so much, I figured I'd go for a ride and catch the box scores later. The game was a blowout anyway.' She paused. 'That doesn't explain what you're doing down here.'
Sharp kid, Michael couldn't help thinking. And obnoxious.
'I came down to check on Wilkins's house,' Valenti said. 'I know he used to keep cockatiels. It looks like Wilkins's stay in the hospital is going to be a while. I know that he doesn't have any family that he can call to take care of the birds.'
Kelli pushed the motorcycle's kickstand down, then leaned the dirt bike over while she hopped off. 'I can help,' she offered, trudging toward them.
'Help?' Valenti repeated, and Michael could tell from Valenti's tone that that was the last thing he wanted.
'Sure,' Kelli said. 'Mr. Wilkins sometimes hires me to do housecleaning and take care of the birds.'
'I didn't know that,' Valenti admitted.
'Helping Mr. Wilkins is how I earned the money for the motorcycle,' Kelli said. 'I'm surprised that you remembered the birds. I was on my way down here to take care of them.'
'You've got a key to the house?' Michael asked.
Kelli rolled her eyes at him. 'There's other ways to get into places than with keys.' She glanced at the crowbar along Valenti's leg. 'Or crowbars.'
'I'm not used to breaking into places,' Valenti said. 'Usually I've been around to prevent that.'
'Well,' the girl said, 'you stink at it. But you did get the job done.'
'Thanks,' Valenti said. 'I think.'
Kelli stopped just inside the garage where the darkness started. 'Did you or the hunk think to bring a flashlight?'
'I've got one in the truck.'
'It's okay,' Kelli said. 'We can use mine.' She reached into her jacket and brought out a small halogen flash.
Michael was impressed, but didn't let it show on his face.
'Do you see Wilkins on a daily basis?' Valenti asked as they filed by the orange and green spotted Willis jeep.
'More like three times a week,' Kelli answered. 'Mr. Wilkins doesn't have as much money as a lot of people around here think.'
'Yeah,' Valenti said. 'I knew that.'
The girl shone the flashlight over the boxes of ore sample and tools at the back of the garage. 'Mr. Wilkins still went prospecting from time to time. I guess you knew that.'
'Yeah,' Valenti said. 'Sometimes I'd catch him out in the desert on that three-wheeler he used to ride, and
sometimes in the jeep, and I'd check on him. Make sure he had enough water and wasn't getting overheated.'
'Mr. Wilkins could always take care of himself in the desert,' Kelli said. 'It was people he didn't trust himself around. He didn't like going into town.'
'He came into town today,' Michael said. He glanced through the boxes and boxes of rock chunks and soil samples, not seeing at all why someone would be interested in them. They looked all the same to him.
'Wilkins went into Roswell occasionally,' Valenti said.
'Yeah.' Kelli turned toward the house side of the garage. The flashlight beam tracked across the wall, revealing two doors next to each other.
'Was today one of the scheduled days?'
'No,' Kelli replied.
'Are you sure?' Valenti asked.
'Yeah. Mr. Wilkins always had me watch his house while he was gone. I was one of the few people he trusted. During school session, he'd wait till I was home before he'd go into Roswell.'
'Then Wilkins either went to Roswell to see someone,' Michael said, 'or something chased him out of here.'
Kelli swung on him, shining the light in his eyes and causing him to raise a hand in defense. 'Sorry,' she said. 'Don't you work at the Crashdown?'
'Yeah,' Michael answered. 'I do that when I'm not helping Valenti burgle the houses of old rich people.'
Kelli grinned and laughed. 'I knew you weren't here about the birds.'
Valenti looked uncomfortable. 'No. That was our cover story.'
'So what's the real reason?' Kelli asked.
'Wilkins told people at the Crashdown that he was being chased by a ghost,' Valenti said.
'Is that what he told you, brown eyes?' Kelli asked Michael.
'He didn't tell me,' Michael replied. 'He told a friend of mine. I was standing there when he did.'
Kelli's face wrinkled. 'Did he say who the ghost belonged to?'
'No,' Valenti said.
'Swanson,' Michael said, ignoring the glare he got from Valenti.
'The news didn't say anything about that,' Kelli said.
'It's protected information,' Valenti said.
Kelli's eyebrows raised in understanding. 'You mean, in case it turns out someone was trying to scare Mr. Wilkins out of his house and steal his stuff.'
Actually Michael hadn't been thinking that far ahead, but the conclusion sounded logical to him and would give them the leverage they needed to keep asking questions. 'Yeah,' Michael said.
'That still doesn't explain what an ex-sheriff and a short-order cook from the Crashdown is doing here investigating,' Kelli observed.
'The new sheriff isn't interested in chasing down ghost stories,' Valenti said.
'And you are?' Kelli shot him a doubtful look.
'He's tired of Oprah and Montel,' Michael said.
'What about you?' Kelli asked.
'Do you think I want to be a short-order cook all my life?'
'And you're not going to be a short-order cook how?'
Michael smiled at her. 'Professional ghostbuster.'
Kelli smiled. 'Cool.'
Valenti grimaced, and Michael figured Valenti wasn't totally enthusiastic about the new cover story.
'Has Wilkins acted any differently lately?' Valenti asked.
'Mr. Wilkins has always acted different,' Kelli said. She gestured with the flashlight beam toward the ore samples. 'I mean, how many people keep boxes of rocks like this?'
Michael figured the girl had a point.
Nodding to the two doors, Valenti asked, 'Where do these doors go?'
Turning her light to the doors, Kelli said, 'The door on the left goes upstairs to the house, but the door on the
