“I will,” said Poppy.
“And keep your emotions in check. We need hard-nosed reporting on this.” Lowenthal laid both of his thick hands palm-down on his blotter pad. “You have good reason to be caught up personally in the investigation, but don’t give in to the urge. This whole long case has been a kind of trial-by-ordeal for you, and so far you’re doing great, but I want you to leave your missing cousin out of it unless North brings him up. You got me on that?”
“I got you boss,” said Poppy.
“Good. Now go back and finish writing up the North interview. I want to have it in hand in thirty minutes. I’m going to work on this letter for a while.” He motioned for her to leave.
“I’m on it boss,” Poppy assured him, and went toward the door.
“Chop-chop,” Lowenthal called after her.
Poppy completed the interview story and handed it in with five minutes to spare.
“That’s great,” Lowenthal said when he had read it through. “He’s an arrogant son-of-a—” He stopped himself.
“That he is,” Poppy said.
Lowenthal chuckled. “Tell you what: you take the rest of the day off, no loss of pay. You’ve been burning the candles at both ends over the whole Hadley and Grimes investigation, and you could use a little rest. You and your aunt go out to dinner, or something nice like that. She’ll be on her way in three weeks, won’t she? Something like that, anyway—so you and she should spend a little time together before she goes.”
Startled by this unexpected gesture, Poppy blurted out, “Thank you boss. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Just make sure you call the Pearses tonight.”
“I’ll do it from home,” Poppy told him. “This is very nice of you, boss.”
“Yeah. Keep that in mind.” He pointed at his door. “I’m busy. I have a paper to put out.”
“I’m going,” she said, and did.
Traffic had not yet built up, so the trip to Aunt Esther’s house took less time than it usual; Holte did not accompany her, and Poppy decided it was because she had left early. She let herself in the front door and called out, “Miss Roth, I’ll be in the study,” while she hung up her coat. In the study, she sat down to add to the growing file of notes she had compiled during her conversations with Holte, information that she hoped to be able to confirm when and if Stacy were ever brought to justice. She was rolling bond, carbon paper, and onionskin into the platen, when she heard her name.
“You’re home early,” Holte remarked, taking on the appearance of a faint charcoal sketch.
“Lowenthal gave me two hours off,” she said. “Where have you been recently?” It had been three days since he last called on her.
“I’ve been following up on what Quentin Hadley remembered.”
Poppy gave this a little thought. “You mean about Stacy wanting to start a new antiques company in British Honduras?”
“That’s the one.”
“Did you have any luck?” Poppy watched as he grew a bit brighter.
“I’m beginning to make progress. At last.” Holte gave a sound that was vaguely like a sigh. “I think I’m on to something.”
“I hope so,” said Poppy. “For both our sakes.”
“Both? What does it have to do with me, beyond my asking questions of the recently dead?” Holte asked, drifting by her horizontally.
“Aren’t you trying to balance the books? Doesn’t your help get you closer to the time when you can move on, as you call it?”
“That is a consideration, but there are a lot more people out there that I haven’t haunted yet, who deserve my attention.” He sounded quite serious, but his tone, and his manifestation both lightened. “Besides, in general, I’m learning a lot, haunting you.”
“You mean you’re enjoying yourself?” Poppy was both stunned and amused.
“Not in the jolly sense, but in the intellectually stimulating sense, yes, I am,” he said with candor.
Poppy took a little time to appraise what he had just said, and she remembered what Aunt Esther had told her about facing fears. “Good,” she said. “So am I.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are thanks due to a number of people for their help in the preparation of this book; here they are – on the research end, Michael Plowman, Cheri McMasters, and E.W. Jones – on the reading end, Tania Eggers, Haley Kim, and Philip Horstmann, as well as Stephanie Moss, Margaret Lucke, Tamara Thorne, and Suzy McKee Charnas – on the manuscript preparation and promotion end, Patrick LoBrutto, Libba Campbell, Wiley Saichek, Connor Cochran, Charlie Petit, and Paul Huckelberry – and the just because end, Cedric and Jan Clute, Charlie Lucke, Linda and Wolf Hein, Christine Sullivan, Megan, Gaye, Lucia, Patrick, MaryRose, Steve, Brian, and all the rest of the every-other-Monday-night gang. I appreciate every one of you and all the insights and support you gave to this book.
—About the Author—
Chelsea Quinn Yarbro has published over ninety novels and nonfiction works and more than seventy pieces of short fiction. She’s known for her bestselling series of historical horror novels featuring the 4000 year-old vampire Count Saint-Germain.
Yarbro lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with the Gang of Two (her irrepressible cats Butterscotch and Crumpet).
Living Spectres: a Chesterton Holte, Gentleman Haunt Mystery Page 49