Is that what you mean?”
Yes. He kept gesturing to his head.
“David didn’t just believe, he knew they weren’t true.”
Emphatic nod.
“He had proof?”
Yes.
We continued to piece a conversation together with questions, nods and pantomime. From what I could make out from Chance’s gestures, David had proof that Chance had tried to act on replacing the acid tank long ago, but Emery refused, citing costs. David had told him where he hid the papers that would show Chance was not to blame.
“Was David killed because of this?” I asked.
He nodded slowly. He placed a hand over his chest, eyes downcast, as if to say, “I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault,” I said, but I was lost for a while. When I had managed to regain my composure, I said, “I’ve got to contact Detective Russo.”
Chance wasn’t happy with this idea, but I ignored his gestures until he got frustrated and vanished. This time, I didn’t mind so much. I needed some time to absorb what he had told me.
I dialed police headquarters and asked for Russo. He wasn’t in, but the man who took my call said he would page him. I was grateful he wasn’t there; it occurred to me that it would be difficult to tell him that I had been talking to Chance Devereaux’s ghost. Only about fifteen minutes had passed when he called me back, but I was better prepared.
“Anything wrong, Dr. Blackburn?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “In fact, I think I may have some more information for you about my husband’s case, and perhaps another case as well. But first I need to ask you a few questions.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“Detective Russo?”
“I’m here Dr. Blackburn. Just what is this all about?”
“Maybe this would be easier to explain if we spoke face-to-face.”
“I’ll be right over.”
When he arrived, I could tell he wasn’t exactly pleased with me. I was surprised to see him betraying any emotion, and found it a nice change; somehow it made his face more interesting. He politely declined my offer of coffee and we went into the living room.
“You said you had some questions for me?” he asked when we were seated on the couch, just as Chance and I had been seated earlier.
“Yes. I was wondering if you were familiar with the case of Chance Devereaux?”
He didn’t answer at once, and while I waited for him to reply, Chance reappeared. I tried not to look at him, but Detective Russo caught me glancing away. “What’s bothering you?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Just now, something upset you.”
“I’m generally upset right now. You didn’t answer my question.”
“Yes, I’m familiar with the Devereaux case.”
“Do you believe he killed himself?”
Chance was gesturing to me to follow him. I wondered if he could use telepathy. I kept looking at Detective Russo, trying to tell Chance with my mind that he needed to be patient. It didn’t work. Chance walked over to the bookcase, and began pacing.
“I don’t believe I should discuss that with anyone outside the department,” Detective Russo said curtly.
“All right, if you can’t discuss it, you can’t. I’ll just tell you that I don’t believe he did.”
At that moment a book fell from the case with a thump that made me jump half out of my skin.
“You seem very nervous, Dr. Blackburn. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
I got up and picked up the book. Irving Stone’s Men to Match My Mountains. I looked up at Chance as I replaced it on the shelf. I finally understood what he was trying to say.
“I remembered that David had been very concerned about the allegations that were being made. He told me he had proof that Chance Devereaux had wanted to replace the acid tank, but that Mr. Emery refused.”
He didn’t seem to believe me. “That’s a very serious allegation. Mr. Emery could be subject to criminal prosecution if what your husband told you is true.”
“I’m almost certain of it.”
“And you think your husband was killed to keep him silent?”
“Yes.”
He eyed me skeptically. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”
“As you’ve noticed, Detective Russo, I’ve been very upset. David’s death was a horrible shock.” I didn’t have to fake my response there. Just thinking about it made the color drain from my face.
“I’m sorry, Dr. Blackburn,” he said.
“No, please. And please call me Anna-only my students call me Dr. Blackburn. All I’m asking is that you help me search the place where I believe David hid the papers.”
“And where would that be?”
“Our mountain cabin,” I said, daring to peek over at Chance, who was nodding and urging me to get going.
“Is that why your husband took off work on Wednesday afternoon?”
“What?”
He pulled out a notebook and flipped through it. Finding the page he was looking for, he said, “Your husband left work at about eleven o’clock Wednesday morning. He didn’t return all day. Said he wasn’t feeling well. A woman in the office-an Annette Mayes?-said she thought he left because he was so disturbed by the deaths of the three workers the day before.”
I had nothing to say. Chance distracted me, making motions that seemed to mean, “Stand up, let’s go!”
“Look, Detective Russo, could we talk about this on the way to the cabin?”
“Lady, before we take off on a two-hour drive, why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”
For three or four seconds, I actually considered doing it. But whatever sense I still had allowed me to remain silent. “I thought I could depend on your help. Obviously, I was wrong. I’m leaving for the cabin and I’m leaving now.”
“All right, all right,” Russo said in a peeved tone. “Let me call in.”
He made the call while I got my coat and keys and purse. Chance disappeared for a while. I looked at Detective Russo, and realized he probably didn’t have more than his suitcoat to keep him warm. I hesitated only for a moment before going into David’s closet. “I know you don’t mind, David,” I said as I took a winter coat out, “but it bothers me.” Chance suddenly appeared next to me, motioning me to hurry. “I am hurrying!” I said.
“Anna? Who are you talking to?” Detective Russo asked. He was standing at the bedroom door.
“Oh…just talking to myself. I was getting one of my husband’s coats for you. I thought you might be cold up in the mountains. There’s snow up there now. He’s a little-he was a little taller than you, so it might be too big. But it will be better than nothing.”
“Thank you,” he said, taking it from me. “Are you sure it won’t bother you to see me wear it?”
I looked away from him and shook my head. “Let’s go.”
Chance vanished. I figured he had his own means of transportation.
Detective Russo and I didn’t say anything to each other for about the first twenty minutes of the trip. Chance suddenly appeared as a reflection in the rearview mirror. I jumped a little, but fortunately, Russo didn’t see my reaction; he was looking out the passenger window.
He turned to me. “It was your husband, wasn’t it?”
“What?” I asked, puzzled.
“When I came into the bedroom, you were talking to your husband, asking him if you could loan me the coat.”
