“So, you think that…”
“I don’t think anything yet,” Craig said. “We need more information from the experts before I can even speculate. Go on, please, tell me about this morning.”
“Oh. Oh,” John said. “This morning.” He looked longingly at his whiskey glass.
It was empty.
“You want another?” Craig asked.
“Yeah,” John said huskily. “Yeah. The long dead are one thing. Fresh corpses…or not so fresh corpses…”
Craig knew what he meant.
He had seen the body.
He scanned the bar area, but didn’t see Kieran. Declan Finnegan, however—looking like an old-time Irish bartender as he dried a glass, decked in a white apron tied around his waist—was behind the bar.
Craig walked over to him. Declan, he knew, had been fully aware that Craig was in the pub and that he’d been talking to John Shaw.
“You want another whiskey for him?” Declan asked.
Declan was the oldest of the Finnegan’s; he wore his sense of responsibility and dignity well. All the Finnegan family were attractive and charming people with different degrees of red in their hair, and they all had eyes in varying shades of blue. Even a casual observer had to note that they were related.
Declan tended to be the most serious in demeanor. He didn’t ask questions, not of Craig; he knew he’d learn what was going on if and when it was appropriate.
“Thanks,” Craig said. “Any idea where Kieran is?”
“She and Kevin were helping out. I’m not sure where they went. Sorry you had to come to the bar. Anything for you?”
“Soda water?”
Declan quickly poured him a glass from the fountain, and Craig returned to the table. Where the hell had Kieran gone?
She was helping her brother out today, which meant she was working here somewhere. If he was going to start worrying every time she wasn’t in sight, he’d to get a psych evaluation himself.
John Shaw took the whiskey from him; it looked as if he was going to gulp it down. Craig set a hand on his. “Hey, that’s prime stuff, my friend. Sip it.”
“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Shaw murmured.
“Okay, so, you got in today—”
“Early. Just after seven. This is an important true find. The historical value is immense.”
“Of course. I understand,” Craig assured him. “So, today. You haven’t opened any of the other coffins in the catacomb, have you?”
“No. Some of the coffins have disintegrated, and the remains are down to bones and dust and spider webs. Remnants of fabric…belt buckles, shoe buckles… “ John said, studying the amber liquid in his glass.
“But you found Ms. Gilbert in the first coffin?”
Shaw nodded glumly.
“What made you open that one first?” Craig asked.
The question seemed to confuse Shaw for a minute. “It seemed to be the best-preserved… “ He paused, staring up at Craig. “Actually, it was at an odd angle on the shelf. As if it had been moved. Oh…that was obviously because someone had been there! They’d put her body in it!”
“Do you remember it being that way the day before?”
“No! That must’ve been it. There was something different!” John Shaw said. “I didn’t realize it immediately. It was such a…subtle difference. The thing is, I thought I’d start with the best-preserved, but so did…. “
He frowned at Craig. “It was definitely the best-preserved. And someone else knew that, too. Her killer.”
Jeannette had been dead at least a week, possibly two. But she’d been placed in that coffin in a forgotten crypt much more recently than that.
The killer had learned about the historical find—he’d made use of it for his own designs.
“Excuse me,” Craig said abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”
He wanted to see where Kieran was; it suddenly seemed important.
She wasn’t at the bar. She wasn’t on the floor.
He hurried down the hallway to the office, not bothering to knock.
Kieran was there, and Craig let out a sigh of relief.
But then he saw that she wasn’t alone. She was sitting there, on the sofa in front of the desk, talking earnestly with her twin brother, Kevin.
They both looked up at him, startled—and their expressions could only be described as guilty.
A serial killer is striking a little too close to home…
A PERFECT OBSESSION
From New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham
ISBN-13: 9781488026249
Bride of the Tiger
Copyright © 1987 by Heather Graham Pozzessere
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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