Ghost of a Chance

by Dan Willis

  The woman next to Mayor Banes was a study in contrast to her husband, as she could only be his wife. She stood with her shoulders slumped, looking down, like a schoolgirl anticipating a scolding. Alex knew from the list of potential ghost victims that her name was Nancy. She was pretty in a small-town girl kind of way, with delicate features, blue eyes and dark hair. She wore a dress with short sleeves and her bare arms came down in a V before her where she kneaded her hands together nervously.

  “Thank you, Officer Thomas,” Chief Montgomery said, dismissing the officer. Once he left and the door was shut, Rooney looked at the Mayor.

  So, Banes is running this meeting.

  “I’d like to know just what you think you are doing, Mr. Lockerby,” Banes said angrily. “You can’t drag my wife’s name through the mud and expect to get away with it.” He was shouting now, and his wife cringed with every syllable. Alex couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or afraid. “I’ll have your license—”

  Montgomery stood up and the Mayor seemed to recover his temper.

  “The last time I heard your name, Lockerby,” Montgomery said, stepping out from behind his desk to take over this interrogation. “Captain Rooney here was telling me how it was your fault that this department staked out the customs warehouse over at the Aerodrome for no good reason. Now I hear you’re giving highly sensitive information to a tabloid reporter,” he walked around Alex as he spoke, sizing him up. “As you heard, the Mayor is quite upset, to say nothing of Mrs. Banes.”

  He stopped directly in front of Alex and looked him right in the eyes. Alex noticed that his eyes were a deep brown, almost black. His face was a mask, halfway between amusement and condescension. Alex was very glad he didn’t have to play poker with the man.

  “Would you care to explain yourself?” he said.

  It sounded like an invitation, a chance for Alex to tell his side of the story, but Alex recognized it for the trap it was. If he admitted to anything, it would be used at the roasting everyone was here to watch.

  “I’m sure you got a report from Ms. Kincaid and the FBI about my part in stopping the attack on the city last year,” he said.

  Alex caught Captain Rooney’s flinch out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his gaze on Montgomery. The Chief gave no outward sign that Alex had scored a point, but Alex detected a slight shift in his posture. He leaned away slightly. That probably meant that Alex was on the right track.

  “As for Mrs. Banes,” Alex said, looking at her. She had been watching him, but when he looked up, her blue eyes darted away. “I haven’t been talking to any reporters about her or this case.”

  Her eyes darted up to meet his. They looked soft and grateful, then they darted away again. Montgomery opened his mouth to retort.

  “And,” Alex cut him off. “There wouldn’t be anything for that hack to print if it wasn’t for my work. I made the connection between the victims. I found out who the ghost was likely to be after, and that reporter didn’t print any of that stuff until after I gave it to you.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” Rooney growled.

  “No,” Alex agreed. “It doesn’t, but if I wanted my name in the paper, I’d be down at the Sun right now telling them who the ghost really is and why he’s killing, instead of up here having my integrity impugned.”

  Rooney looked like he might explode, but Montgomery’s expression hadn’t shifted one bit. He paused for a long moment, letting the silence in the room stretch out. Alex knew better than to speak now. He’d said his piece and baited the hook, the next person to speak would likely be the loser.

  Montgomery smiled, and Alex realized that the Chief knew this game. Worse, he knew how to play.

  “Lieutenant,” he said to Detweiler. “Do you have any detectives working for you who would stoop to talking to the press?”

  Detweiler was grinning like a child who suddenly found himself in an unattended candy shop. Alex didn’t want to tell Chief Montgomery how to run his department, but Detweiler was giving away the game.

  “Wait,” Mayor Banes said before the Lieutenant could speak. “You know who the ghost is?”

  Alex nodded, looking the Mayor right in the eye.

  “And I can prove that your wife is just an innocent bystander in all of this. The ghost isn’t after her at all.”

  Nancy Banes gasped as if she’d suddenly been allowed to put down a heavy load and the Mayor put his arm protectively around her shoulders.

  “I don’t think—” Rooney began.

  “No one’s asking you to think, Patrick,” Mayor Banes said. “I for one want to hear what Mr. Lockerby has to say.”

  Montgomery raised an eyebrow, then gave an almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the point, but most definitely not the game.

  “I guess you’d better tell us what you think you know, Mr. Lockerby,” he said, returning to his seat behind the desk.

  Alex took out his notebook and tore out a page, dropping it onto Montgomery’s desk.

  “The ghost is a man named Duane King,” he explained as Montgomery picked up the paper. “He’s killing people who were once owners of a company called North Shore Development. Seth Kowalski and ten of his employees at the Suffolk County Assessor’s office formed the company so they could buy up land cheap, then sell it to rich people looking to build summer homes in the Hamptons.”

  “Why do you think he’s the ghost?” Montgomery asked.

  “Because,” Alex said. “King’s wife had tuberculosis, and treatments for that are expensive. He sold his house to get the money to pay an alchemist in Florida, but his wife died anyway. Kowalski and the people involved in North Shore undervalued his property so they could buy it at a tax sale auction cheap. They cheated King out of tens of thousands of dollars, money that would have saved his wife.”

  “Mr. Kowalski did that?” a fragile voice interjected. Nancy Banes looked directly at Alex but she didn’t look away this time.

  “I was his secretary for a year when I got out of school,” she said. “I was never part of any land company.”

  “I know,” Alex said. He leaned over Montgomery’s desk and pointed to a number written on the paper. “This is the file number for their articles of incorporation, and Lieutenant Detweiler can check it.”

  “We believe you,” Montgomery said, though Alex suspected that was only for the Mayor’s benefit. Detweiler would be double-checking everything Alex said; he might be an ass, but he wasn’t stupid.

  “What makes you think the ghost is actually Duane King?” Montgomery asked again. “If Kowalski and his friends cheated him, it’s a cinch they cheated others.”

  “This is about King’s wife,” Alex explained. “Think about the murders. Two stab wounds to the chest, one through each lung. The victims would drown as their lungs filled up with their own blood.”

  “The same way his wife would have died from tuberculosis,” Detweiler said.

  “Very good, Lieutenant,” Alex said.

  Rooney cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.

  “If King thought these people were responsible for his wife’s death, why did he wait so long to take revenge?”

  “That’s a very good question,” Chief Montgomery said, turning to Alex.

  Alex allowed himself to smile. Montgomery blanched a little when he saw it, but to his credit, he kept his poker face in place. He knew Alex was about to win their game.

  “He was in prison for twenty of those years,” Alex said. He turned to Detweiler. “Ask me why?”

  The Lieutenant sighed but played along.

  “Why?”

  “Because he murdered the doctor who had been treating his wife,” Alex explained. “She sold him a phony cure.”

  Chief Montgomery raised his eyebrows, then nodded again, conceding the game.

  “Where is Mr. King now?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Alex admitted. “But I imagine the Florida prison system knows. They wouldn’t tell me, of course, but they’ll be happy
to tell you.”

  Montgomery looked over his shoulder at the Mayor and something unspoken passed between them.

  “You’ll keep this information to yourself for the moment,” the Chief said to Alex.

  “Unless you want me to leak it to the Sun,” he said. The Mayor’s face turned dark and angry, so Alex rushed on. “I’m sure they’d love to hear that Mrs. Banes is no longer a potential target.”

  Montgomery laughed at that.

  “I’ll see to that myself,” he said. “As for you, this information of yours had better pan out.”

  “I know,” Alex said, putting up a hand to stop the Chief. “Or you’ll bury me in a hole and throw away the shovel.”

  “Something like that,” his voice was as smooth and calm as it had been the whole time, but Alex detected a slight note of irritation. He’d misjudged Alex. Bringing the Mayor here had been a bit of theater. Chief Montgomery intended for the Mayor to see him lay the blame for his department’s inadequacies at Alex’s feet. By not letting them set the narrative, Alex had turned the Mayor’s presence to his own advantage.

  He wasn’t sure if Chief Montgomery was impressed or angry, but either way he wouldn’t be forgetting about it. The next time Alex was in this office, he’d need a much bigger trump card if he had any hope of coming out without handcuffs.

  “Well,” Montgomery said, rising. “His honor and I have things to get back to.” He handed the paper from Alex’s notebook to Detweiler. “Run this down and double the guard on the remaining five members of North Shore Development. The ghost may try again, and I want him caught this time.”

  “What about the officers we’ve got guarding the others?” Captain Rooney asked.

  Montgomery thought about that for a moment.

  “Better keep them in place until we’re sure Mr. Lockerby’s information is good.” He turned to Alex. “I’m sure you can find your own way out.”

  Alex thanked him and fled in as dignified a manner as possible. He took the stairs down two at a time, worrying the whole time that Detweiler would come chasing after him.

  When he finally reached the street, he walked to the side of the building and turned down the alley between it and the next one. He sat down on the bare dirt and took a swig from his flask. He’d been prepared for Detweiler, even Rooney, but the Mayor and the Chief were in a whole other league. One word from either of them and he’d be rotting in a cell without bail.

  He sat there, resisting the urge to throw up and squeezing his hands together until the tremors subsided. Finally, he got up, brushed himself off, and headed across the street to the crawler station.

  22

  The Calm

  Alex trudged up the stairs to his fourth floor office, pausing on the landing as he caught sight of his door. Lockerby Investigations was written on a frosted glass panel in gold paint. Down in the bottom right corner, the ink-pot and quill symbol was painted as well, announcing that the office offered runewright services in addition to detection. It wasn’t an elegant office, or particularly well appointed, but it was his. The sight lifted his spirits.

  A sign hung on the door handle that read, closed for the day.

  Taking out his key, he let himself in, but left the sign on the door. He had work to do, and with Leslie gone, he didn’t want to be interrupted by potential clients. That hurt a bit, but it had to be done.

  Locking the door, he went straight to his office. A stack of notes sat there, all from Leslie. Thanks to the story in the Sun, a lot of people had come in seeking his services.

  There were a few legitimate cases among the notes, mostly missing valuables, cheating spouses, and even a lost dog. They’d be easy money provided he could get his finding rune working. With a sigh and a wish for a better class of cases, he set them aside.

  Many of the people in Leslie’s notes wanted runes done. Even though the runewright symbol was on his door, he almost never sold runes from the office. Simple barrier and mending runes could be bought from runewrights who sold their wares in shops or off carts. Most people who came in here wanted Alex’s finding rune — but that came with his services.

  With a sigh, Alex read through the list of desired runes. It would take several hours to write them all, and he simply didn’t want to do it. That didn’t change the fact that he needed the money, by tomorrow if he wanted to take Jessica somewhere nice for dinner, and selling the runes for which he had orders would make that happen.

  The thought of money made him check his pocketwatch. If Danny and Callahan found the bank robbers today, he could collect double his fee from Barton. That would be one hundred and fifty clams, enough to catch up Leslie’s salary.

  Of course there was a good chance that the cops wouldn’t find the tunnel until tomorrow. If that happened, Alex’s double or nothing bet with the Lightning Lord would roll over to nothing.

  Time to take another gamble.

  Alex picked up his phone and gave the operator Barton’s number.

  “Yes,” Gary Bickman’s voice answered.

  “This is Alex Lockerby. I need to talk to your boss.”

  “One moment.”

  If Bickman was glad to hear Alex’s voice, he hid it well. Of course he was a professional valet, dispassion was probably in the job description.

  “Lockerby!” Barton’s voice rolled down the line like thunder. “I was beginning to lose faith in you. What’s the good word?”

  “I found your truck,” he said. “It was part of a group of vehicles that have been stolen in recent weeks.”

  “Is the motor intact?” Barton’s voice was eager, almost desperate. Alex guessed that the new one wasn’t coming along as quickly as Barton had hoped.

  “The motor was missing,” Alex said.

  “I’m not paying you to find trucks, Lockerby,” he growled. “I need that motor.”

  “Take it easy,” Alex said. “I know why the thieves took your motor.”

  “I don’t care why they took it, I just need it back.”

  Barton’s voice was angry now. Absently, Alex wondered if the Lightning Lord could electrocute him through the telephone line.

  “And the police are looking for it right now,” Alex said in as soothing a voice as he dared. “The people who took it want to use it to help them rob a bank.”

  There was a long pause.

  “How would my motor help anyone rob a bank?” he asked, his voice now intrigued.

  Alex told him about the thefts and the kidnapping of Leroy Cunningham, and how that added up to a robbery.

  “I never thought about using my motor in mines,” Barton said. “That might be a whole new industry. You say the cops are searching for these kidnappers right now?”

  “There are a lot of buildings they’ll have to search, but they’ll find your motor sooner or later.”

  “I appreciate the update, Lockerby, well done.”

  “I was hoping I could get some consideration for that well done work,” Alex said, trying to keep his voice calm and even.

  “Like what?”

  “One more day on our bet,” he said. “The cops will find your motor by then and it’s a cinch the thieves didn’t take it apart, so it’ll be ready to show off to the railroad. Based on what we thought at the start, it’s the best possible outcome.”

  “You’ve got brass,” Barton said, amusement in his voice. “All right, one more day, double or nothing. But only because I like you.”

  With that, Barton hung up.

  Alex slumped back in his chair, letting out an explosive breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Now all he needed was for the cops to find the bank robbers. They wouldn’t want to release the motor, since it was evidence, but Alex had no doubt that once Andrew Barton got involved, that wouldn’t be a problem.

  He opened the desk drawer where he kept his liquor bottle and found it empty. He’d forgotten that he’d emptied it when Hannah Cunningham had come to see him. That seemed so long ago.

  Tossing the empty bourbon bottle in
to his waste basket, Alex got up and moved to the wall where his vault door had been painted in neat lines on the otherwise blank sheet rock. Taking a vault rune from his book, he activated it to reveal the heavy door, then opened it with the ornate skeleton key on his key ring.

  Inside, he had another bottle of bourbon on the file cabinet next to his writing table. This one was almost empty too.

  He poured himself a shot and downed it.

  Looking at his angled writing table, Alex decided that he might as well start writing the runes he needed. He’d done all he could for Leroy and Barton, and it was up to the cops to catch the ghost.

  He set the bottle aside and turned to make his way back to his office where the list of runes awaited him, but paused as a thought struck him. He walked to the secretary cabinet where he kept his important papers and a duplicate investigation kit. Opening the writing table, he rummaged through the drawers until he found an ornate paper card with a red border and gold Chinese dragons in the corners. The name, Lucky Dragon, had been printed in the same gold lettering across the top over a single line of handwritten text.

  Mister Lockerby and party are my guests.

  It was signed, Chow Duk Sum, though Alex knew there was no such person. The name was an alias for Shiro Takahashi, Danny Pak’s father — leader of the Japanese Mafia in New York.

  Alex had gotten Danny in some trouble about a year back and had to appeal to Shiro for help getting Danny out of it. Apparently Alex’s work met with the man’s approval, because that card arrived in the mail a week or so after the fact. It was inside a folded sheet of paper with a single word written on it.

  Impressive.

  Alex had worried that the obvious invitation was some kind of set up, but in the year that passed, no further communication had been received. It was probably safe. Besides, the Lucky Dragon was swanky, located in the inner-ring. Jessica should be suitably impressed.

  Making up his mind, Alex put the card in the back of his rune book, then walked back to his office and scooped up the list of needed runes. He had just turned back to the open vault door when his phone rang.