"Oh my God!" Claudia laughed long and loud until tears ran down her face. "Oh, sugarlips, that is just too priceless! Jesus, it's just the worst thing anyone in that situation could go through! What happened next?"
"Joanne's dad went in and prized Bruce free. He still had the cuffs on his wrists and ankles when he came out of the cabin. From the look on Pete's face I think he wished he could have left him to burn!"
"Oh, that's so bad!" Claudia stifled her laughter but Martin felt every little tremble of her supple body against his. "Oh, the poor man!"
"It can't have been nice anyway, knowing your daughter's screwing her boss. To have to rescue him after he was caught in flagrante delicto in front of all those witnesses must have hurt."
"Yeah." Claudia settled herself alongside him again. "We had the advantage; we knew they were screwing each other. It's going to be tough to keep a straight face when we see them all in the morning."
"Yes." Martin gave a deep sigh. "Much as I want to press on and finish this case, I think we'd better postpone tomorrow's trip until we can see what's what." He paused. "Sugarlips?"
* * * *
Martin was sitting at the table, checking his e-mail on the laptop when a knock came at the door. "Can you get it, hunnybunch?" Claudia called from the bathroom.
"Yes, no problem." He stood up and looked at the open door to the bathroom. "Hunnybunch? Claudia, please!"
"You don't like it?"
"I think I'd prefer Marty to that or sugarlips!"
"Okay, then, Marty it is!"
He grinned ruefully at the delicate note of triumph in her voice, just as the knock came again, more insistently.
It was Greg and Donna, looking pale and nervous, hovering on the deck like a pair of newlyweds. Donna clung to Greg as if stopping him from running away. "Mr. Grey, we really need to talk to you," she said, glancing up at Greg. "It's important."
Greg flushed. The bruise on his cheek stood out nicely, and Martin felt a guilty twinge of pleasure at the accuracy of his blow. "You'd better come in," he said, stepping back.
Claudia emerged from the bathroom, barefoot, wearing a brilliant scarlet robe and her hair tied in a towel turban. "Oh! Hi," she said. "Sorry, we weren't expecting company."
Martin ensured the e-mail attachment had downloaded properly, and shut down the laptop before he turned and looked the pair over. "You both look tired out. Won't you sit down?"
With a glance at one another they sat close together on the edge of the bed. Donna nudged Greg, who cleared his throat.
"It's about last night, Mr. Grey; about the fire. I started it."
"What?" Martin and Claudia uttered the word simultaneously and glanced at each other.
"I was forced to set fire to the cabin," he said miserably, his head hanging. Donna slipped her arm through his to support him.
Martin stared at him. "You were forced to do it? By whom, and why?"
"Bruce made me do it. He threatened to fire me over my taking a pass key and hiding under your bed." He looked up imploringly at Martin. "He would've done it too! And I love this job. If I got fired from here, I'd lose my college place and never get a good job anywhere else." He put his arm around Donna's shoulders and held her close. "I was going to refuse, but then something told me I'd got no choice, if I didn't we'd be ruined. We plan on living together soon, so we'll need the money."
Donna hugged him. "Greg told me all this last night. And I told Greg I wouldn't stay here if he got fired," she said in resolute tones. "There's no way I'd work with that man again, if he fired Greg!"
Martin looked at them nonplussed. Claudia came up and put her arm around his waist and stared at the two younger people. "I'm not saying we aren't flattered that you're telling us all this," she said quietly, "but I would like to know why you've come to us instead of Mrs. Kratzmer."
Martin looked at her; her eyes met his and she gave him a tiny nod.
Donna's eyes were moist. "I told Greg we should ask your advice, Mr. Grey. You were fair to him after his moment of stupidity, and you're not connected with the resort in any official capacity. Laurel's okay, but she has her loyalties."
"Indeed. Why would Bruce want you to set fire to his own resort?" Martin asked. "Especially when he was…occupied, next door. What's his motive?"
"I didn't know they'd be in there, Mr. Grey," Greg said, spreading his hands. "I'd have gone somewhere else to do it. As for why, it's down to insurance. Bruce is in over his head with the bank. He was careful not to let me see all the resort paperwork, using some excuse or other to justify it, but I know; I've seen some figures which just don't add up. I suspect even his wife and partner don't know about it. A nice insurance check would see him clear for a while.
"Bruce told me he wanted a small fire which would burn out a cabin or two so he could collect. I thought I'd choose one of the more dilapidated ones near the end of the row." He flushed. "I really didn't know he'd be in the next one with Joanne last night!"
"I think he knew Greg was beginning to suspect something wasn't right," Donna chipped in. "That's why Bruce was so glad to use his stupid frat-boy stunt to gain a hold on him. It would force him to side with Bruce. He even told Greg that if he did as he was told, it would save the resort and his job!"
"Greg, arson is a pretty serious charge in England," Martin pointed out. "I'd guess it has the same weight here. By telling us, you're placing a great deal on our shoulders. Are you seriously looking for our advice?"
"Yeah, Mr. Grey. Me and Donna talked all through this last night and we can't come up with anything. We trust you. We'll accept anything you advise."
"Then why don't you go to the police?" Martin said in an even tone.
"Because we've got no proof he blackmailed me into doing the job," Greg said wearily. "It'll come down to my word against his."
"And Bruce has an alibi for where he was last night. He was kinda tied up," Claudia murmured.
Martin smiled. "Joking aside, you're right. He could claim he couldn't have incited anyone to commit arson, especially as he would've been with Joanne in the cabin next door. It's a matter for the divorce court, not the criminal court."
"There's one other thing," Greg said carefully. "Pete Ashby saw me at the rear of the cabin just as the fire broke out."
"Ah." Martin sighed. "That complicates matters."
"Pete's weird anyway." Donna shivered. "I've seen him out and about at all hours of the day and night. God knows what he's doing."
"I think Mr. Ashby has a good reason for that," Martin said, shooting Claudia a glance. "In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to have a word with him. He may be able to help you."
"But he's just the general maintenance guy," Greg cried.
"Don't knock it," Martin said firmly. "It's just possible he could help you out of this hole."
Chapter Twelve
Pete was eating lunch at a table well away from the others when Martin entered the restaurant. The few staff around were giving the man a wide berth, avoiding so much as a glance in his direction. From the set of Pete's shoulders, that was just fine with him. There was no sign of Joanne.
Martin steeled himself and went over. "Mr. Ashby, I think it's time we had a quiet talk."
Two dark eyes like gun barrels swung up to regard Martin. "What have you got to talk to me about?" he growled, chewing his bacon and eggs.
"United States Treasury Bonds," Martin said, carefully emphasizing each capital letter. "Bonds which went missing—or were stolen—sometime in the 1920's."
Pete didn't bat an eyelid. For several seconds he stared at him as he continued to chew, then he pushed a chair out from the table with his foot. "Sit down, Mr. Grey, and say your piece. We'll be private enough here." His eyes flickered toward the other diners. "Those creeps won't dare try to overhear."
"I think I know where the bonds are. They're hidden in or near an old aircraft, up in a place called Canning's Vale, about fifteen miles from here."
"Interesting, but why tell me?"
"Because you're an undercover agent of the US Treasury. I know. I overheard you talking to your daughter about the case."
Pete's brows narrowed. "I thought you were sneaking about down by the utility room. You got damn sharp ears, Mr. Grey."
Martin shrugged. "Perhaps. And you should know, when I'm not chasing ghosts, I work for the British Inland Revenue Service."
Pete sneered. "You're hoping for a bit o' fellow feeling from another guv'mint man?"
"Of course not!" Martin said testily. "I'm giving you my credentials. Tax offices tend not to employ people who lie or cheat."
Pete's jaw worked on some more food then he swallowed. "Okay, so now we know the score." He glanced up at the other staff, a few of whom were leaving, and lowered his voice. "Yeah, I'm a Treasury Agent, and I'm looking for some missing bonds. Yeah, they went missing in the 1920's. Now, how do you know where they are, and what's your interest in them?"
"You know I've been conducting an investigation into paranormal activity here."
"Ghost-hunting!"
"If you like," Martin said equably. "It also means I have to conduct a lot of research into the background of the case. Although I've no written proof, I have reason to believe the pilot who's haunting this place was working for a criminal gang. He was hired to fly a consignment of bootleg Scotch whiskey from Canada into the USA, landing in the valley I mentioned in order to rendezvous with the gang. The bonds you're looking for may've been hidden in that consignment."
"Scotch, you say?" Pete's brows furrowed.
"Yes, the same consignment from which the bottle you were examining last night came."
A long pause stretched out between them. Distant clattering and a snatch of song could be heard from the kitchen. "You know a helluva lot about what I'm doing around here, Mr. Grey," Pete said slowly. "I'm not sure I like that."
"Like it or not, I know," Martin said firmly. "I'm going up to that valley tomorrow to look around, Agent Ashby. My interest in the Treasury Bonds and the Scotch is precisely zero. All I want is to find the remains of the pilot and, hopefully, another man who was working for the gang, so they can be given a decent burial. I'm inviting you to come with me. Are you interested?"
"Why are you so sure I won't just order you to stay clear and get my own people in there?"
"Because I suspect you're something of a maverick, Agent Ashby," Martin said crisply. "You're working here under cover, having cultivated a reputation for eccentricity to conceal your activities—if indeed the eccentricity's an act. Not only that, but your daughter is working here." Pete Ashby's knuckles tightened as if by reflex, which didn't escape Martin's notice. "I know nothing of US Treasury procedure, but I don't think they encourage the deployment of father-daughter teams in the field."
Pete snorted; whether it was from humor or disgust Martin couldn't tell. "No, they don't."
"So it'll be quicker all round if you come with us tomorrow and look. That way you'll save the US government the expense of mounting a full operation—which it'll appreciate, no doubt."
He gave Martin a hard look. "I'll have to think about this."
"Please do. One more thing, which may flavor the pot," Martin said. "We had Greg Dewar and his girlfriend Donna call at our cabin this morning. He confessed to committing arson last night as part of an insurance scam being run by Bruce Baker."
Pete's eyebrows shot up and Martin felt a minor triumph at having pierced the dour man's armor at last. "Dewar confessed to you?"
"Yes; and the poor little sod's as miserable as hell because he's got nothing to prove Baker put him up to the job. He told us you saw him last night, and that you almost caught him in the act."
"Yeah—almost. I've not got enough on him for proof, but if he's confessed…" Pete's brows furrowed once more and Martin could almost see the wheels beginning to turn in his mind. "Let me get back to you on this."
Martin nodded, stood up, and left the table. When he glanced back, Pete was staring into space.
* * * *
"Martin!"
He stopped half-way along the track leading to the cabin and turned to see Laurel Kratzmer hurrying after him with Ursula Baker following behind at a more sedate pace. Laurel was breathless by the time she reached him and it pained him to think how bad her lungs had to be from her smoking habit.
She gestured to Ursula, swallowed and managed to speak after a few seconds. "Mrs. Baker wants to speak to you; it's in connection with your contract."
He stared at her. "What? Why?"
"It's because of Bruce. There's been a development." She flushed. "It's connected with all the fuss last night."
Ursula strode up. A woman of middling height with her honey blond hair swept back, she wore a severe business suit in charcoal gray with a white shirt. Her face was flushed and set with anger as she stared up at him with frosty gray eyes. "Mr. Grey, I'd like an explanation from you," she said in a peremptory tone.
"I'm not sure what I have to explain to you or why, but I think we'd better discuss whatever it is in my cabin," he said politely. "If you'd care to follow me?"
Claudia was out when they arrived. A note on the table told him she was with Greg and Donna in their cabin to keep them calm, and, by the way, loved him to bits.
Laurel saw his smile. "Lucky girl," she said wistfully.
"I'm a lucky man." He folded the note and tucked it into his shirt pocket before turning to them. "Now, Mrs. Baker, Laurel; what's this all about?"
Ursula drew herself up. "It's like this, Mr. Grey," she said in clipped tones. "You know I'm one of the partners in this resort?" He nodded and she drew a folded sheet of paper from the inside pocket of her coat. "Okay, it means I normally have access to everything to do with the business, including the accounts of course. Imagine my shock when I found one section of our computer files relating to this resort closed off from me!"
She paused and looked at him, but he merely raised his eyebrows in polite inquiry. Frowning, she continued. "It didn't take long for one of my advisors to hack into the system for me. The files we found contained plenty of strange transactions conducted by my husband, including details of your daily expenses relating to your investigation. You'll note the considerable sums involved, Mr. Grey!"
He took the paper but didn't even glance at it, looking her directly in the eye instead. "Mrs. Baker, I'm sorry to tell you you've been misinformed," he said evenly. "I arranged with your husband to submit my expenses when the investigation is over, and not on a daily basis."
"Your contract says otherwise!" she snapped.
"You must have seen the original copy," he replied equably and went to his attaché case. Drawing out the document, he handed it to her. "As you can see, the terms were altered so I would commit to submitting my expense claims once the case was over. I find it easier that way."
With a guarded expression she took the papers and read it quickly, alternating glances between the sheets and his face.
"Your husband signed that document, as you can see, Mrs. Baker—and I counter-signed it. To date, I have not claimed a single penny—ah, cent—for expenses. Should you wish to examine my accounts, I'm happy to let you do so. I have receipts for every relevant item."
Ursula slowed the pace of her reading, until finally she nodded and handed back the contract. "That all seems to be in order, Mr. Grey." She flushed and some of the tension left her bearing. "I'm sorry to imply any wrongdoing on your part, but, as you no doubt saw last night, I was ready to chew nails and spit bullets where my husband and his affairs are concerned!"
"It's perfectly understandable," he replied, and finally glanced at the paper she'd given him. A professional poker player would have envied his facial control at that moment, he thought; the sums recorded on the sheet were considerable. "Mr. Baker's behavior was inexcusable," he said thoughtfully.
"That's putting it mildly!" she snapped then drew a deep breath. "Sorry, I'm all fired up still. Aside from his marital betrayal, Bruce's been engaged in financial act
ivities which are highly suspect to say the least. It was only by chance I found discrepancies connected with another of our ventures which led to this place. The more I looked into the situation, the worse it got. It's why I came down a day early, without telling my dear husband!"
"I see."
"After I cooled down some last night, I called our partner in New York, got him out of bed, and told him what had happened. We agreed to use our majority vote clause to close Bruce's access to all the resort accounts until further notice. It happened this morning, as soon as the banks opened."
"A wise move, Mrs. Baker," he said. "I'm a tax official by profession; it's best to get a grip on these matters as soon as possible."
Her lips twitched but her eyes held no trace of humor. "I'm glad you agree, because it makes what I'm going to tell you next more palatable for you. With all accounts closed for that reason, any and all contracts Bruce signed are also suspended until further notice. I'm sorry it should come to this, Mr. Grey, after all your hard work."
"Don't worry." He smiled. "I'm happy to say I'm close to finishing the case anyway. Payment or not, one way or another it'll all be over tomorrow."
She frowned; his reaction was obviously not the one she expected. "You're still going ahead?"
"Oh yes, there's every reason to carry on. As far as I'm concerned, seeing Gerry Maguire's spirit laid to rest is the overriding aim." He paused and looked her in the eye. "As for my fee, once you've straightened out the mess Bruce created, I fully expect to be reimbursed for my time and effort, Mrs. Baker."
She held up her hand. "Bruce signed the contract, Mr. Grey. After his illegal activities, neither I nor the Knight's Lodge are beholden to it. You'll be paid up to the moment the contract was suspended, but not after."
He gave her a thin smile. "Oh, but I'm afraid you are beholden to it, Mrs. Baker—in full. Remember when we first met by chance in that delicatessen in New York? You overheard me discussing an early case of mine with my girlfriend, Claudia. Bruce told me then he had some work involving a paranormal investigation, and told me to contact him about it once I'd finished my work there. You were present at that time, Mrs. Baker, and you raised no objection whatsoever. That implies tacit consent on your part for Bruce's engaging me. Claudia's a witness to that effect too."
Mr. Grey and the Spirit from the Sky Page 18