Ghost Walk

by Laurel Pace

  As she circled the ballroom, gathering up discarded tumblers and replenishing chafing dishes, Dani had the uncomfortable feeling that some of the eyes peering from behind masks were watching her. She was letting herself get paranoid, she knew, an excusable enough condition, however, considering the Whyte family's united front against her. Even during the best of times, she could have expected little more warmth from Rebecca, who made a point of flouncing her hoop skirt and bobbing away from Dani when they chanced to meet at the dessert buffet.

  Dani was juggling an armload of cake plates when the lights slowly began to fade. The dance band's lively swing tune dissolved into a few dissonant chords as the room was plunged into darkness. An undercurrent of murmurs and nervous giggles flowed among the guests. Dani propped her burden against the edge of the table and watched the procession of candle bearers moving through the Colonial Hall's entrance. To judge from their costumes, these were the Ghostly Guests, come to add a spooky touch of history to the twentieth-century revelers' party. Rather than risk bumping into someone and breaking twenty-odd china plates, Dani decided to wait until the performance was over before returning to the service area. When the lights at last came up, she backed away from the dessert table and almost collided with Darth Vader.

  "Excuse me," she apologized.

  The tall, powerfully built man's breath rasped heavily through the slits of the helmet's mouth shield, but he said nothing. Something about the way the monolithic figure stood facing her, not moving or making any accommodation, annoyed Dani. Who would come to a costume ball dressed as Darth Vader nowadays, anyway? Star Wars was old hat. As she hurried back to the service area, however, , Dani realized that her irritation was a defense against the unsettling feeling the black-clad giant had left with her.

  He was still lurking on the periphery of the room when she returned to watch the awards ceremonies. Now that she had a chance to take a breather and observe the ballroom, several of the costumes struck her as unpleasantly sinister. There was a mauve-faced Frankenstein with a hardware store's worth of bolts protruding from his head and neck, a fanged Dracula in a high-necked cape, and a Rasputin with wild hair spiraling from his mask down the back of his black cassock. Rasputin knew she was watching him; she could tell by the way he stood, back almost turned to the podium, while Theo "Blackbeard" Boynton cited various guests and roused the crowd to applaud.

  Determined to curb her overactive imagination, Dani re-focused her attention on the more playful costumes. The baggy-suited clown with bright orange hair was definitely more to her liking. She smiled when the surreal, wide mouth curved first into a grin and then into a sad frown.

  Dani jumped as Elaine lightly pinched her elbow in passing. "You have a phone call in the service area, Dani," she whispered over the two teetering columns of fresh drink cups she was balancing.

  "Thanks."

  Dani sprinted to the service area and grabbed the receiver propped next to an unused coffee urn. "Hello?"

  "Dani, this is Georgia. I just got a fax from Stuart in Rio." She took a deep breath, suggesting that she was looking over the transmission.

  "And?" Dani prompted.

  "Well, dear, Bandeira Branca doesn't look all that great. In fact, it looks pretty wretched."

  Dani could scarcely believe what her friend was saying. "What do you mean?"

  "First of all, the company isn't publicly traded, so that precludes your buying any stock. Not that you'd want to, though. The firm appears practically worthless. I mean, what's a shipping company without ships?"

  "No ships! But how can that be?" Dani demanded.

  "I know you're disappointed, but based on my experience, I'd say Bandeira Branca exists only on paper. At some point, it probably functioned as a business, maybe experienced a serious downturn and has remained a legal entity for tax purposes. That's just a guess, of course, but it's definitely not something you'd want to put your money into," Georgia advised her.

  Dani licked her lips, trying to put the wholly unexpected revelation into perspective. Why would Richardson have wanted to give her a worthless investment? It simply didn't make sense. "Does the company still have an office in Rio?" she asked, buying herself a few moments to think.

  "Let me have another look at this fax," Georgia mumbled. "A mailing address is all I see. No correspondent bank listed. Only one officer."

  "Does it give the officer's name?" Dani asked on impulse.

  "Uh-huh. Somebody by the name of Derek Cannaday. C-A-N-N-A-D-A-Y. Sounds American or maybe British."

  "Thanks, Georgia!" Dani said with a gasp.

  "No problem." Georgia sounded a little startled by Dani's suddenly breathless tone. "I'm just sorry my research didn't yield anything worthwhile."

  "I've got to go now, Georgia. I'll catch you later."

  Dani slung the receiver down and dashed to the cupboard where she had secreted her handbag for the evening. Derek! He had worked with Richardson in Brazil, would have been the most likely candidate to handle an investment in that country for his supposed friend. No telling how much money Richardson had entrusted Derek with over the years, money that he had earmarked for his daughter's future, money that Derek had squandered. Because Richardson had thought they were friends, he would have been easy to deceive, would have been unlikely to question bogus financial statements or to demand audits.

  Dani's mind was reeling as she dug her address book out of her bag and impatiently flipped the pages. She punched out the seven digits and then pressed her lips together, waiting for someone to answer.

  A businesslike female voice responded to her call.

  "I'd like to speak with Officer Joe Simpson, please." Dani's heart was pounding so thunderously, she imagined the policewoman could hear its reverberation on the other end.

  "I'm sorry, but this is Officer Simpson's night off. Can someone else help you?"

  Dani thought for a moment. The information she was about to offer was so sensitive, her conclusion so speculative, she had to be careful. The last thing she needed at this point was for Sam Butler to get wind of her suspicions. Prejudiced as he was against her, he was sure to discount her theory, might even spill the news and inadvertently give Cannaday a chance to escape. "No, thanks," Dani finally said. "I'll call him in the morning. Do you know what time he'll be in?"

  "Officer Simpson usually arrives in his office around seven."

  Dani thanked the policewoman and then hung up. She checked her watch. It was already past midnight. The party would soon begin to wind down. Another hour or so and they could start breaking down. By the time they cleaned up and returned the equipment to Moveable Feast's kitchen, it would be three o'clock or even later. Then she could go home, park herself by the phone and wait another four hours to call Simpson. In the meantime, she would try to stay busy and not let her nerves get the best of her.

  "Traffic by the punch bowls is starting to peter out," Ben announced as he rounded the corner into the service area. "A good sign."

  "Yeah," Dani agreed. "I think we can start doing some discreet K.P. duty." "I'll police the potted plants and the window sills for discarded junk," Ben volunteered. "Elaine is keeping a close eye on the food trays so they don't start to look too anemic, like you always say, we don't want 'em to think we'w holding stuff back for ourselves." Ben cackled. "That should just about do it, so why don't you kick your shoes off and take it easy back here for the rest of the evening? You've certainly earned the right."

  Ben's suggestion was tempting, but Dani never allowed herself to sit idly by while her helpers worked. Still, she was glad to hear that Ben and Elaine had the Colonial Hall well under control. Given her shaken nerves, she welcomed the chance to stay in the background as much as possible. "Have you checked the dungeon yet for litter?"

  Ben snapped his fingers. "Nope, forgot all about it."

  "That's okay. I'll give it a thorough patrol." And stay out of Darth Vader's and Rasputin's sight at the same time, she added to herself. Right now, the acid flooding her st
omach didn't need any additional priming.

  Dani armed herself with a large plastic bag before heading down the stairs to the Provost Dungeon. As she passed the rest rooms, she smiled at the jovial clown who was loitering in the hall. Although the Ghostly Guests had long since departed for their earthly homes, the entrance to the Provost Dungeon was still open. The subterranean chamber felt even clammier than she recalled from her prior visit with Theo, its dark cavities even less inviting. Even if she had not been eager to conclude the night's work, the dungeon offered plenty of incentive to make short order of her cleanup.

  As Theo had predicted, Dani spotted several wadded napkins and a number of cocktail picks before she had even reached the redcoat mannequin. She was bent over, trying to scoop the remains of a crushed snack cracker into a plastic cup when a shuffling sound stopped her cold.

  "Ben?" Dani waited in vain for an answer.

  For a second, she could only listen to the throbbing of her own heart as it futilely cast itself against the rib cage that held it imprisoned. Her shaking knees threatened to lock on her as she eased out of her crouch and slowly turned. Dani could see the door, but what stood between her and it? She could scream, but would anyone hear her? She could try to sneak out of the dungeon, but would she be able to elude the prowler? These terrifying questions fastened her with an ice-cold grip. Fear spread through her limbs, paralyzing them with its insidious poison.

  The one thing she couldn't do was remain crouched in the dungeon, a sitting duck for the stalker. The thought forced her into action. Dani hugged the brick column, pressing herself into its shadow. She edged around the column, her senses alert to the faintest stirring. Suddenly, a flutter of white from behind one of the columns caught her eye. The column was halfway between her and the exit. Dani weighed her options and then bolted for the door.

  She cried out when the hands seized her from behind, but her scream was cut short by the cord wrapped around her neck. While her heels flailed for traction against the gritty floor, Dani grabbed at the noose cutting into her throat. Her head and heart and lungs all felt as if they were about to burst, deprived of the oxygen they craved. She clawed at the nylon cord, desperately trying to loosen its murderous hold. The ill-lighted room was beginning to lose shape now, its shadowy corners ebbing and receding before her. She felt her legs giving out beneath her as bright spots exploded behind her eyes. When she pitched forward, she reached back, instinctively trying to catch hold of anything that would anchor her in the conscious world. Her hands snatched at a fuzzy mass and the cord loosened slightly.

  Her windpipe ached from the sudden gulp of air, but it was enough to give her a second chance. Dani managed to get one hand beneath the cord while her other hand clung to the wiry orange wig. She wrestled around to kick at her assailant. One well-placed blow earned a muffled groan and yet another reprieve from the noose. This time, Dani managed to yank the cord loose enough to wrest herself free.

  The now-bareheaded clown scrambled to recapture her. He grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her back. Dam jerked one fist free and landed a fairly solid blow against the garish white jaw. The slap that caught her across the mouth sent her falling back onto the floor. As he hovered over her, she scuffled back on her heels, just out of his reach.

  "It's no use, Derek! I know all about what you did, how you defrauded Richardson and then killed him when you learned he was going to give his share of Bandeira Branca to me and you'd be found out. I've already told the police." It was a bluff that she hoped was convincing enough to throw him off guard, even if only for a few minutes.

  The tattered clown paused and then shook its head. "If the police knew, Dani, they would be swarming this place. But only listen. Hear how quiet it is. No, I'm afraid no one knows but you and I. And soon it will be only I."

  Dani crawled backward, trying to regain her footing. "You may fancy yourself a brilliant criminal, Derek, but you're going to get caught. Just how did you manage to trick poor Adele Whyte into pasting that note together and sending it to Richardson? How did you poison her mind?"

  A low chuckle escaped the smeared red mouth. "That was the easy part. I didn't have to do anything! In fact, until you let the proverbial cat out of the bag just now, I was still guessing who sent that ridiculous note. You see, I had been wrestling with what had to be done, and Richardson unwittingly gave me the perfect cover when he showed me the extortion note he had received. The police would naturally link the note with Richardson's death—the perfect red herring, I might add."

  Dani could see he was taking a perverse pride in talking about his scheme. How long the sinister fascination would last, she had no idea, but talking at least distracted him from trying to strangle her. "You did send me a note, didn't you?"

  Derek's painted eyebrows rose slightly. "I wanted to discourage you, but unfortunately for you, my efforts have failed. You've been terribly tenacious, Dani, far more so than that pitiful excuse for a security man to whom you've gotten so attached. While he and the police were blundering around after the obvious—and useless—clues, you were thinking in more subtle terms. I was quite amazed when you showed up on the yacht that evening. You and I were on the same trail, you know, looking for things pinpointing the identity of Richardson's child. Of course, I knew what you only suspected, that he kept mementoes on the yacht. That's why I had to get rid of it."

  Dani rocked back on her heels, balancing herself against the sandy floor with her splayed fingers. "And you got rid of the letters by sending Bea to collect them from Richardson's office. I suppose those papers she took from the safe involved Bendeira Branca."

  Derek clucked softly. "You're not as clever as you think you are, Dani. I let Sapphira dispatch Bea to Richardson's office. The Whytes are so absorbed in saving face, they've never suspected something else might be afoot. Nor will they ever. In a couple of days, all vestiges of the Bandeira Branca Shipping Company will literally be up in smoke."

  Dani tested her still unsteady knees. "Someone is going to find you out, Derek. You won't get away with this."

  "They only say that in movies, Dani, and not very good ones at that."

  Just as Derek stepped forward, Dani sprang out of her crouch. Her apron ripped as he grabbed her. She managed to dig an elbow into his midriff, but he was still quick enough to wield the cord. The rope burned her fingers as she struggled to pull it out of his hands. She lurched backward when Derek unexpectedly released his hold on the cord. His hands were on her neck now, his bony thumbs pressing the breath out of her. She squeezed his wiry wrists, trying to break their grip. Dani's eyes widened with terror, staring up into the face of a madman.

  Suddenly, Derek's painted face gaped in surprise. His hands froze on her neck as Darth Vader and Rasputin charged through the door without warning. Derek stumbled, almost falling over the dummy redcoat. When he regained his balance, he studied his two adversaries and then made a break, trying to charge past the smaller of the two men. Rasputin caught him, sending Derek reeling back against the brick wall. While Darth Vader anchored handcuffs on Derek's wrists, Rasputin tugged impatiently at his mask. Still massaging her bruised throat, Dani blinked in disbelief as Ken's face emerged from behind the grotesque false face.

  "What are you doing here?" she gasped.

  "Looking out after you." The sleeve of the threadbare cassock ripped as he threw his arms around her, but Kan didn't seem to mind.

  "I was about to lose my mind when I couldn't get in touch with you. And then when my stockbroker friend called tonight and told me about the worthless company that Richardson thought he had been investing in, I almost panicked. I couldn't reach you or Simpson." Now that she was out of danger, Dani was perilously near crying.

  Darth Vader lifted his helmet as he guided Derek toward the door. "Thought I would suffocate in that thing," Joe Simpson complained, mopping his brow with his free hand.

  "You?" Dani gaped at the police officer who now held her nemesis firmly in tow. She pulled back from Ken, frowning up at him. "
How did you two find out about Derek's connection with Bandeira Branca?"

  "We didn't," Ken explained. "After that row with Sapphira and Adele, I started asking myself who else could have known you were Richardson's daughter? Theo and Rebecca obviously did, but I had seen them on the piazza at the time of the murder. Then I remembered an inconsistency in Derek's conversation. He had told me that he knew nothing about Richardson's having a child, but you said that Sapphira claimed he knew all along. Derek was conveniently supposed to be helping cover the exterior of the house the night of the murder. He could even have made that mysterious phone call from his car phone."

  "But why didn't you tell me you suspected him?" Dani demanded.

  "It didn't gel in my mind until I was in Washington. By then, I figured I needed to get the hell back here before something bad happened to you. With my being out of town, I knew there was a good chance Derek would decide to act."

  "You were right." Dani rubbed her neck again.

  Ken smoothed her hair back from her brow, gently caressing the tumbled waves. "Do you forgive me for cutting out on you?"

  Dani looked into the dark blue eyes that had suddenly grown earnest. "Yes, but only if you promise never to do it again."

  Epilogue