‘Jonny thinks Troy Grange is interested in you,’ Serena said.
‘Yeah, Troy’s been dropping hints. He must be a masochist.’
‘He’s a nice guy.’
‘I know he is. I like his kids, too. He talked about the four of us driving down to the state fair this year.’
‘So?’ Serena asked.
‘So I told you. I’m taking a break. If I do anything, I’m going slow. Peck-on-the-cheek, knees-closed slow. For the time being, call me Sister Maggie.’
Serena had a hard time imagining Maggie as anyone’s idea of a nun.
‘What about you guys?’ Maggie asked, sipping her frappe. It was sensitive ground, her asking about the two of them. When Serena didn’t answer immediately, she added: ‘I mean, how is it with Cat living there? Instant family and all.’
‘It’s a struggle,’ Serena admitted. ‘I don’t think Jonny realized how difficult it was going to be. He had this idea that if we helped her, she’d turn herself around. It’s not that simple.’
‘No, it’s not,’ Maggie said.
‘I know you thought it was a mistake for us to take her in,’ Serena said.
‘Yeah, and I still do. Sorry.’
‘There are days when I agree with you,’ Serena acknowledged. ‘Even so, we love her, and she loves us. Unfortunately, that’s not always enough.’
Maggie said nothing more. They finished their drinks through another stretch of silence. Then Serena went on: ‘This case has brought back a lot of memories for Jonny. Memories of Cindy.’
‘I’ll bet.’
‘I don’t like competing with a ghost. Then again, I didn’t like competing with you, either.’
Maggie laughed, but it wasn’t a happy laugh. ‘You were never competing with me, Serena. I was never in the game. Even when Stride and I were together, there wasn’t a day that he wasn’t still in love with you.’
Serena didn’t hear bitterness in Maggie’s voice. Just honesty. Maggie grabbed the empty cups from the table and stood up.
‘Oh, and for what it’s worth,’ she went on, ‘you’re not competing with Cindy, either.’
‘I think I am.’
‘Only in your head. Not his. Did Stride love Cindy? Yeah, of course he did. Was it a nightmare to lose her? Yeah. But that doesn’t change how he feels about you. I saw it all winter when you weren’t here. Trust me, it was extremely annoying.’
Serena allowed herself a faint smile. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault. Anyway, it’s not Cindy coming between you two. It’s the fact that Cindy died. That’s his problem.’
Serena stared at Maggie, and for just a moment, it felt like they were friends again. Which they weren’t. But at least they’d moved beyond being enemies.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Stride thought he had everything, and then it was taken away from him,’ Maggie said. ‘He’s not sure he believes in the future anymore. He’s worried it’ll be stolen from him again.’
‘That’s always a risk.’
‘I know, and Stride doesn’t like risks.’
‘He asked Cat to live with us,’ Serena said. ‘That was a big risk. He was thinking about the future when he did that.’
Maggie cocked her head, as if Serena were the densest woman on the planet. Maybe she was. ‘You’re right. Doesn’t that tell you something?’
Serena let those words sink in. When they did, they made their way up the length of her body and gave her a little chill. Sort of like the breath of a ghost, invisibly touching the nerve endings of her skin. Maggie had said things she didn’t need to say, and Serena could only imagine how hard it was for her. In her shoes, she wasn’t sure she would have been equally gracious.
‘You know, you really ought to call Troy,’ Serena told her. ‘Go to the state fair with him and the girls.’
‘You think so?’
‘I do.’
Maggie shrugged. ‘What the hell, maybe I will. But only for the cheese curds. Damn, those things are good.’
*
They found Curt Dickes after dark near the lift bridge separating Canal Park from the Point.
It was a windy night. Waves in the narrow ship canal struck the concrete walls and sent clouds of cold spray into puddles on the sidewalk. Overhead, a bone-white light illuminated the crisscross metal span of the bridge superstructure. Threads of fog moved in and out of the steel X’s, making them invisible.
A cluster of twenty tourists huddled near the canal. Some had umbrellas. Curt Dickes stood in the middle of them, or Serena assumed it was Curt. He was dressed in a skeleton costume that included a skull mask covering his face and a top hat at a jaunty angle on his head. In his left hand, he clutched a plastic sickle that was taller than he was.
‘Do you hear that?’ Curt shouted.
He had a microphone under his mask, because his voice was amplified, and he used an echo effect that repeated his last words. Do you hear that that that that?
‘That’s not the wind. Oh, no. That’s the scream of Lars Olson. His ghost never leaves the bridge, and on nights like this one, you can hear him pleading for mercy. Who’s Lars Olson, you may ask? He was the ex-chancellor of UMD. He died a horrific death at this very spot. Someone tied a rope around his neck and hooked him to the span, so that when the bridge went up . . .’
Curt put a bony fist near his neck and tugged sharply, letting his head dangle sideways.
‘He was hanged hanged hanged hanged hanged.’
One of the children in the group of tourists gasped. ‘Did that really happen?’
‘All of my stories are true!’ Curt announced. ‘You can run, but you can’t escape the dead dead dead dead dead.’
Maggie waded into the crowd. ‘Oh, give me a break, Curt.’
Curt spotted Maggie and Serena, and the skeleton froze in place. With a flourish, he removed his top hat and gave them a deep bow. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the lovely Maggie Bei and Serena Dial, two of Duluth’s finest, dedicated to keeping tourists like yourselves safe from the criminal underworld. Ms. Bei, Ms. Dial, have you decided to join our happy group to hear more absolutely true tales of ghosts in the Zenith City? Tickets are just twenty-five dollars each, payable in cash only, no refunds.’
‘Lars Olson was a character in an Ellen Hart novel,’ Maggie announced. ‘She killed him off by hanging him from the lift bridge at the beginning of This Little Piggy Went to Murder.’
Curt scratched the top of his head with his sickle and offered a nervous giggle. ‘Well, sometimes fiction is stranger than truth, you know. I mean, stories do come to me second-hand from time to time.’
A restless murmur rippled through the crowd.
‘What about the ghost of the marathon runner?’ a woman asked. ‘Was that one true?’
‘Totally true!’ Curt assured them. ‘I’ve seen him myself.’
‘Marathon runner?’ Serena asked.
‘Barnabas “Batty” Burns,” Curt replied confidently. ‘Eighty-seven years old. Tried to run all 26.2 miles of Grandma’s Marathon. Made it to within ten yards – ten yards! – of the finish line and dropped dead of a heart attack. Tragic. To this day, he runs the last block of the marathon over and over, trying to make it to the finish line, and he disappears into wisps of smoke just before he gets there. I’ve seen him dozens of times.’
‘You are so full of crap, Curt,’ Maggie told him. She grabbed the skeleton by his bony arm, and Serena took the sickle and poked him in the back.
‘Folks, hang out here for a while, we need to borrow your tour guide.’
With Maggie on his left side, and Serena on his right, they quick-walked Curt along the wall of the canal. Waves slapped loudly on the pier and doused them as they marched away from the bridge. When they were out of earshot of the tourists, Maggie grabbed the top hat and yanked the
skull mask from Curt’s head. Curt, a twenty-five-year-old beanpole, tried to tame his greasy black hair. Musk cologne oozed from his skin.
‘Jeez, guys,’ he complained. ‘I’m trying to do a show here.’
‘Duluth has a cool history,’ Maggie told him. ‘Next time, try to stick to it, okay? No more Batty Burns the Long-Distance Runner.’
‘Hey, I’m a storyteller. There’s nothing wrong with that. Stride told me I should make an honest living.’
‘Well, you’re getting closer,’ Serena agreed. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not here to bust your ghost walk. It’s your other job we want to talk about.’
‘I’m not pimping anymore. I swear.’
‘Not that one,’ Serena said.
‘I found those boxes of camping gear behind the Duluth Pack store. I swear I thought they were throwing them away.’
‘Not that one, either,’ Maggie said. She held up an enlarged photograph of Janine’s ring on a piece of paper that quickly became sodden in the spray thrown from the canal. ‘Your other job, Curt. Fencing stolen merchandise.’
Curt put two skeleton hands on his chest in mock dismay. ‘Whoa, what? You got the wrong guy.’ He added an echo with his microphone: ‘Wrong guy wrong guy wrong guy.’
‘Save it,’ Maggie snapped. ‘You sold this ring to an accountant named Neal Fisher. He identified your photo, Curt, so quit playing innocent. Oh, and by the way, he ripped you off. He gave you two hundred bucks, and this thing is worth at least a few thousand.’
‘That asshole!’ Curt bellowed. ‘I know you can’t trust lawyers, but I figured accountants were okay.’
‘Where did you get the ring?’ Serena asked.
‘Um, let me see. I think I found it on the street.’
‘You found it?’ Maggie asked. ‘It was just lying there?’
‘That’s right. Over near the Depot. I figured it slipped off somebody’s finger. Their loss was my gain.’
‘This ring came from a stash of jewelry stolen nine years ago,’ Maggie told him. ‘The husband of the woman it belonged to got his head blown off during the robbery. People have been looking for the jewelry ever since, Curt. And now it shows up in your hands? That’s not a good thing. It makes me think you needed money back then, so you drove up there with a gun—’
‘No way!’ Curt retorted. ‘You know that’s not my scene, Sergeant. No violence. Not a chance.’
‘So where did you get the ring?’ Serena repeated.
‘Okay, somebody sold it to me. I gave them fifty bucks. And then I sold it to the accountant for two hundred. That’s commerce. Nothing wrong with that. Although now I wish I’d asked for a lot more.’
‘Who sold it to you?’ Maggie asked.
‘Just somebody I know.’
‘Who?’
Curt winced. His wet hair was shiny. ‘Look, are you sure you guys want me to tell you? Because I don’t think Stride’s going to be too happy about this. You neither, Serena. If I tell you, don’t blame me, okay?’
‘What are you talking about?’ Serena asked.
‘The girl who sold it to me,’ Curt said, ‘it was your girl. Cat. She’s the one who had the ring.’
He repeated her name, and it echoed.
Cat Cat Cat Cat Cat.
51
‘I’ll talk to her,’ Stride said.
He studied the closed door to Cat’s bedroom at the front of the cottage. He was seated in his red leather chair near the fireplace, and Serena stood against one of the dark wood columns that framed the nook where the fireplace was located. They could hear music through Cat’s door.
‘Do you want me to do it?’ Serena asked.
Stride stood up. ‘No, I want to deal with this myself.’
At Cat’s door, he knocked and heard her young voice answer from inside. He opened the door. Cat’s bedroom was small, with chambered windows facing the street, and two twin beds on the left and right. Cat was stretched out on her back on one of the beds, working on a book of Super-Advanced Brain-Tingling Sudoku Puzzles. She always did them in pen.
It was a reminder to him. This girl was smart. She had a gift, if she ever wanted to use it.
‘Hey, Stride!’ she said happily.
Cat rolled off the bed and gave him a hug. She did that most nights when she saw him. He felt bad that he wondered sometimes about her sincerity. He didn’t doubt that Cat loved him and Serena, but love was a complex thing for a girl like Cat, who’d been caught up in years of guilt, shame, and fear. He didn’t know if she could love anyone without trying to manipulate them.
Cat sat down on the end of her bed. She switched off the music. ‘What’s up?’ she asked.
Because she knew something was up. She could read his face. And he saw in her nervous brown eyes the uncertainty of a teenager who was keeping lots of secrets and wondering which one he’d uncovered.
Stride sat on the other bed. ‘I was thinking about your mother today,’ he told her. ‘I cared about Michaela a lot.’
‘I know you did.’
‘There’s not a day where I don’t feel regret about what happened to her.’
Cat hooded her eyes. ‘Me, too.’
‘Michaela told you to find me if you were ever in trouble,’ Stride said, ‘and you did. I’m glad you did, Cat. I didn’t always believe that things happen for a reason, but more and more, as the years go by, I do. Even when the worst things happen. I find myself realizing that the turns of life take us where we’re supposed to go.’
Cat was silent. She didn’t understand what he was saying, and when she didn’t understand, she got scared.
‘Do you like it here with us?’ he asked her. ‘Do you feel safe here?’
She nodded urgently. ‘Of course. You know I do.’
‘Then what’s going on with you, Cat?’ Stride asked quietly. ‘I need to be able to trust you, and I can’t. Neither can Serena. All summer, you’ve kept crazy hours, not telling us where you are. You’re hanging out with people you shouldn’t. You’re making bad choices. Why? We gave you a second chance, Cat. I gave you a second chance.’
‘I know you did, but I don’t deserve it. I’m not worth anything.’
He watched her eyes welling with tears, and he put up his hand. ‘Stop that. Listen to me. I don’t want to hear you talk like that. I don’t hold your past against you, and I never will. Who you were the day before you came here doesn’t matter to me, but what you do right now does matter.’
‘I told you, I’m not worth it!’
‘Well, I’m here to tell you that you are worth it,’ Stride said, ‘but that doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences, or that you get a free ride. You’re going to have to figure out a way to put the past behind you. You’re going to have to decide that your life – and your son’s life – mean something. And you’re going to have to look in my eyes and realize that I’m not going anywhere. Other people have turned their backs on you. Not me. And not Serena.’
He watched her. Her head was bowed, and she wouldn’t look at him. Maybe one day she’d be able to stare into his eyes and be her own person, but she wasn’t there yet. He exhaled in disappointment.
‘Serena talked to Curt Dickes tonight,’ he went on. ‘You know what he told her, don’t you?’
Cat chewed her lower lip. ‘Curt bought some things from me when I needed money. It was just a couple times.’
If Cat said it was a couple times, he knew it was many times. And that meant she’d been stealing.
‘What do you need money for?’ he asked.
‘Just day-to-day stuff. Buses. Music. Jewelry sometimes. I like jewelry.’
‘If you need money, you can come to us,’ he said.
‘I know, but I don’t like to do that.’
‘Are you buying drugs?’
‘No. How can you ask me that?’
�
�Because you’ve been lying to me, and I don’t trust you.’
‘I’m not using drugs. I’m not.’
Stride tried to stay patient. He couldn’t deal with all of this now. There was only one thing that mattered. ‘Okay, listen to me. You sold a black pearl ring to Curt a couple months ago. Where did you get it?’
‘I don’t remember.’
Which was a lie. Her face was flushed, and she couldn’t look at him.
‘Was it just the ring, Cat? Or was there other jewelry? I can describe all of it to you. Matching black pearl necklace and earrings. A diamond-and-sapphire bracelet. A hummingbird pin. An emerald brooch. Does that sound familiar?’
‘I only had the ring,’ she insisted. ‘How did you find out about it?’
‘Because that ring is connected to a gun, Cat. The gun and all the jewelry I talked about disappeared during a murder nine years ago. Now we’ve found the gun again. It was used in another murder last month.’
Cat’s eyes widened. ‘You mean at the bar – when Serena—’
‘That’s right.’
‘No! That can’t be. That’s impossible.’ She wrung her hands together and looked close to panic.
‘That gun showed up outside the Grizzly Bear Bar, Cat. Now some of the jewelry that went missing along with the gun can be traced to you. You. Do you realize the situation that puts you in?’ He got up and sat down next to her on the other bed. ‘Do you know anything about this gun? Or about the man who used it?’
She shook her head over and over. ‘No! I don’t know anything about a gun! Nothing!’
‘Then where did you get the ring?’
Cat looked dazed. And then she looked angry. ‘Talk to Al.’
‘Al?’
‘He’s my boyfriend. At least he was. He cheated on me. The ring came from his house.’
‘Did he give it to you?’ Stride asked.
‘No, I – I took it.’
‘You stole it? Why?’
‘I told you, I wanted money. And I like jewelry. You remember I always used to carry my father’s ring with me, right? I did that for years, but then I had to give it back. So I wanted – I wanted another ring to have. And I took it. Except I realized I couldn’t wear it, not with Al around. So I sold it to Curt so I could buy something else.’
Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7) Page 31