Chasing Ghosts

by Lee Driver

  Dagger started to second guess his motives. Was he trying to compete in some way with Nick Tyler? Would Nick turn around and buy her a Jaguar to show him up? Sheila would have asked for a Mercedes or Lexus but all Sara wanted was a PT Cruiser. Just to see that dazzling smile of Sara’s was enough for him. Then he frowned.

  “HEY! What about my truck?”

  CHAPTER 11

  Luther pulled his mask off and motioned for Padre to follow. They each had endured three hours of restless sleep last night knowing this was going to be an unusually gruesome autopsy. But they hadn’t realized how shockingly gruesome.

  Luther’s assistant, Gretchen, had completed the autopsy on Hank Hanover, the security guard found dead in the cardinal’s bedroom. No surprises there. He had been asphyxiated and his neck broken by a very powerful force.

  It was the remains in the hotel parking lot that Luther chose to handle. He loved challenges. When Padre had surveyed the crime scene, there had been something eerily familiar about the victim. Of course the body would be reduced to pieces that could fit in a cigar box. But it was the shoes they had found, the shoes with socks and feet. How many similar deaths had they found in their combined lifetimes? Zip. Nada.

  Luther settled behind a gray metal desk that looked like a holdover from his grade school days. If they ever had another earthquake or tornado in the Northwest Indiana area, he knew hiding under this desk would save his life. “Maybe my wife has been serving me a dose of psychedelic mushrooms, but this is just too bizarre.” Luther snapped up a piece of paper and flung it across the desk followed by a second piece of paper.

  “What am I looking at?” Padre asked. “These are fingerprints. You found fingers?”

  “The hands did their own walking, or flying in this case,” Luther said, eliciting a complete lack of humor from the detective. Luther cleared his throat. “They are identical.”

  Padre stared at the prints then waited, flapped his hand repeatedly for more information.

  “The prints on the left are from our guy in the quarry. The prints on the right are from our parking lot victim.”

  “No, no, no. Don’t do this to me again. My old heart can only take so much in one lifetime.”

  The high back leather chair squeaked as Luther rocked. His eyes took on a familiar gleam which told Padre the M.E. anticipated a stimulating case. “Same blood type, same prints, same socks, same damn shoes, and I bet once we get it back it will be the same DNA.”

  Padre held his head and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. “Why me, Lord? What’s wrong with Gary or South Bend? What have I ever done? Are you pissed I quit the seminary? Is that it?”

  “If you are expecting an answer, you’ve got a long wait.” Luther rattled more papers. “I’ve got more.”

  Padre straightened and glared across the table. “Can my heart take it?”

  “Don’t know. Those red hairs we found in the suite? Synthetic.”

  “Wig. So maybe the maid was wearing a wig.”

  Luther smiled. It was a devilish smile that told Padre he was enjoying this way more than he should.

  “Some of the clothing not completely burned looked like a uniform. And there were women’s athletic shoes near the wreckage.”

  Padre pulled out a stick of gum and shoved it in his mouth. He wanted a cigarette so bad that as soon as he left Luther’s office he planned to smoke ten in a row. Maybe he would just crumble them up and graze on them. “You’ve got that shit-eatin’ grin on your face. Let me have it.”

  “No other remains.”

  Padre paused a beat. “Gotta be. How can you tell with what little was left of the victim?”

  “Shoes were empty. Only one blood type on the remains.”

  “Were the shoes right by the car? Probably unrelated. It’s the employee entrance, someone probably dropped her work shoes accidentally. Same with her uniform.”

  Luther shrugged. “How many red-haired women on the housekeeping staff?”

  Padre shook his head. “Only one and she’s home nursing a newborn.” He could see Luther about to ask another question. After working so many years together he could just about anticipate how Luther’s mind worked. “We’ve gone over the camera footage from the hotel lobby. The employee entrance doesn’t have a camera, nor does the Presidential Suites floor. They want the rich and famous to have their privacy.”

  “What about your crime techs?” Luther asked. “Did they find any fuses? Remains of incendiary devices, something to point to how one body falling can result in such a large explosion?”

  “They had to wait for the cars to cool down before transporting them to the lab. They’ll let me know what they find.” Padre rose from the chair saying, “That it?”

  Luther placed what looked like a pen on the desk. Both ends looked melted from the heat. “This was still clutched in one of his hands.”

  Dagger inhaled the coffee and felt more like mainlining it. They had come up empty-handed when examining Esrey’s briefcase. There hadn’t been one questionable document. Only speeches, a daily calendar, travel itinerary, and correspondence. Fingerprint analysis also confirmed that Cardinal Esrey was Cardinal Esrey, age fifty-seven, born in Atlanta, Georgia, although he had lost his accent years ago, as far as Dagger could tell. His itinerary over the past five years had him crisscrossing the globe, visiting Rome several times a year, and he had been one of the few cardinals allowed to visit Cuba.

  Dagger read Esrey’s bio again, tried to piece together why and how he knew him. How could he be so sure he had killed Esrey five years ago when Dagger couldn’t remember where and exactly when it had happened? And the proof had been right across the dinner table from him. He had watched the cardinal’s eyes for some sign of recognition but if he had ever seen Dagger before, he hadn’t let on. And who exactly was Demko and his twin brother? Were they associated with radical groups or was someone else targeting the cardinal? Did Demko Number Two die the same way as Demko Number One?

  Sara walked into the kitchen wearing shorts and a floral top tied at her waist. As she reached for the coffee pot, her tanned midriff was exposed. Her sandals wrapped around her ankles like a Roman chariot driver. At the young age of nineteen, she hadn’t succumbed to the popularity of tattoos and body piercing. It was easy to understand why she would shy away from such fads. When she shifted, her jewelry, whether it be earrings or a necklace, would look out of place on a hawk or wolf. She didn’t even polish her nails. The only jewelry she did wear was one diamond stud earring which was a tracker so if she were ever injured in her shifted form, Dagger would be able to locate her. Her stud earring was a match to the one Dagger wore.

  “You are going car shopping dressed like that?”

  Sara looked down at her shorts. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Car salesmen take advantage of drab married women with three kids in tow. They get one look at you and they will jack the price up and convince you that you need every option they have to offer. You look like you don’t know a thing about cars.”

  “I don’t know anything about cars other than what’s cute.”

  “Which is why I’m going.”

  “No guns.”

  “No problemo.”

  “I was hoping to drive it home today.”

  Dagger parked the Navigator at the side lot of the Ritz. He had wanted to see the back lot where Demko had taken a dive. “Let them get the pin striping done and add the alarm and better sound system. Then we’ll take it over to Skizzy and have him remove the GPS tracking system. Patience. At least I didn’t shoot the guy.”

  And he hadn’t. He had walked into the showroom, Sara had picked out the car she wanted, a shiny candy apple red, and Dagger had told the salesman he wanted to see the factory receipt. The salesman had taken one look at the tall man dressed in black, his dark gaze that was unsettling, the slight bulge at his hip, and nodded in agreement. Dagger opened a suitcase of cash to pay in full. It seemed the salesman couldn’t write up the contract fast enough just
to get Dagger out of his showroom.

  Crime scene tape circled the back lot. Owners of the remaining cars in the lot had been irate that they couldn’t claim their cars until Padre had cleared the area. The charred vehicles had been removed. The lot looked as though it had been swept clean. Dagger stood back and stared up at the twelfth floor where one large panel of glass was completely missing. Crime techs had obviously removed the entire panel and taken it back to the lab. Workmen were busy inserting plywood, a temporary fix until a new window could be delivered.

  Dagger scanned the outer perimeter of the yellow tape, then took a slow stroll. “Keep your eyes out for a piece of metal,” he told Sara.

  “Has Skizzy identified it yet?” Sara asked, referring to the metal piece that almost hit Skizzy in the head at the quarry.

  “Other than being certain it’s a government implant, no. Hasn’t found anything in the government databases on it.”

  Sara stood back and concentrated on the surrounding area. If one were to get close, they would see that her eyes’ irises had become more elliptical in shape. She had called on the enhanced eyesight of the hawk to search the area. She focused on the lot itself, what might have landed under cars, against the curbs, near garbage cans. Then she focused on grass outside the taped area. The police would have no way of knowing how far away the evidence would have landed.

  “Looking for this?” Padre had crept up on them. He held out his hand, a round piece of charred metal in the palm.

  Dagger tried not to flinch as he saw the familiar piece of metal. “What is it?”

  “You tell me.” In Padre’s other hand was a lit cigarette. He took a long, satisfying drag, blowing the smoke out slowly.

  “I knew you’d fold, Padre,” Dagger said with a nod toward the cigarette.

  “Well, I live to quit another day.” He motioned toward the large area within the yellow tape. “Lot of debris over a pretty big area. Five burned out vehicles. Luckily only one fatality, except for the guy upstairs, of course.”

  Sara asked, “Have you identified him?”

  “The diver? Not yet. He was kind enough to leave some fingers behind. Other than that, not much of him left.” He held up the metal object for them to see more closely. “Except this.”

  “He had it on him?” Sara asked.

  Padre smiled, the proverbial canary sneaking a peek between the cop’s lips. “In him,” the detective said.

  Sara winced. “How can you be sure? It could have come from one of the cars.”

  “Skin, brain matter.”

  “It wasn’t all burned away?” Dagger only had to look at the metal once to know it was similar to the one Skizzy had from the first Demko.

  “Blown away was more like it.”

  He and Sara said nothing. But nothing is one of the worst things you could do around Padre. Sara feigned shock. “Do you think he was a terrorist? Who else would strap a bomb to himself?”

  “My bomb experts didn’t detect any of the usual bomb- making materials.”

  “Have you interviewed Cardinal Esrey?” Dagger asked.

  “Headed there now.” Padre caught sight of Sheila rushing across the parking lot toward him. “And it appears I’m leaving in the nick of time.” He moved in the opposite direction of Sheila, flicked his cigarette butt away, and sprinted to his unmarked car.

  “Damn.” Sheila smacked her notepad against her thigh. She turned to Dagger. “Did he tell you anything?” Although Sheila had finally faced the fact that her engagement to Dagger was off permanently, the only thing she had officially done was move his ring from her left hand to her right hanD.

  “No. For some reason he is really keeping this one close to the vest. Maybe having been in the seminary Padre’s trying to protect the cardinal. He’s going over to the Tylers to talk to him now. Why don’t you see what you can find out?” Dagger raked his eyes down her exposed cleavage and short skirt. “Although I think I’d change first before meeting with the cardinal.”

  Sheila narrowed her green eyes at him. “And what is your interest in all this?”

  “Just love a puzzle.”

  She gave an exaggerated swivel to her hips as she strolled back to her car, tossing a flirtatious smile over her shoulder before climbing in and driving off. If she was trying to annoy Sara, it wasn’t working. Sara instead had been concentrating on the charred area where Dagger’s truck had been parked.

  Dagger remembered seeing the news reports last night of the cars in flames in the hotel parking lot. Even when Sara had told him she had fallen out of the twelfth floor window with Demko but had shifted, it hadn’t dawned on him that she wouldn’t have been able to drive home.

  Dagger washed his hands over his face. “I hope like hell that the license plates are too damaged to trace. At least the serial number had been filed off.”

  “I’ve watched the CSI programs. They use something that can raise the numbers.”

  “Thanks for the encouragement.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Skizzy wheeled his chair from one computer to the next. He was in the concrete bunker below the pawn shop. Shelves of canned goods and water bottles could keep him supplied for years should the big one come, as Skizzy put it.

  “No one is this squeaky clean,” Dagger said as he stood by the printer reading additional information on Cardinal Esrey. Dagger picked up the metal plate Skizzy had retrieved after the first Demko’s death. He told him about the similar one Padre had shown him and how it might have come from last night’s victim.

  Without even turning from the computer Skizzy said, “Clone. Government has been cloning assassins for years.”

  “Padre wasn’t too forthcoming. Did you find anything in the medical examiner’s database?”

  “That’s the strange thing. He is treating this as a normal suicide without any mention of the metal contraption or an internal bomb, nothing. Authorities obviously don’t know what to make of it so they are keeping their suspicions off the public records.”

  Dagger set the metal plate down and picked up the Emails from Connie which Skizzy had found on Demko’s computer. “Have you found out anything more about these Emails?”

  “Not yet.”

  We have a problem, Dagger. Sara’s voice was infused with alarm.

  Dagger turned the page to the next Email. What is it, Sara? It amazed him that copper wire could block Skizzy’s bunker from electronic bugs but there wasn’t one thing that could stop telepathy.

  All the evidence is gone from the quarry. Not one sign of Demko’s remains.

  That doesn’t sound good. Certainly explains Padre’s cockiness lately. What are you doing at the quarry? Dagger asked. There was a long silence. Dagger knew exactly why Sara had gone back.

  Are Simon and Skizzy sure that Demko died?

  Dagger heard a distinct quiver in Sara’s voice. The Friday the Thirteenth killer had been a shapeshifter like Sara. Although they incinerated his remains to assure that he couldn’t regenerate, even Padre and Dagger himself had second thoughts as to its effectiveness. And now with a second Demko running around, had the first reassembled? Completely outrageous thought but Dagger’s life was anything but normal.

  Yes. I would have second thoughts, too, except for the strange way Padre has been acting. It’s a wonder he hasn’t choked on those canary feathers. I expect a call from him the moment he realizes the truck Demko’s body fell on was mine. Dagger thought about that for a second. Oh shit.

  What?

  Dagger turned to Skizzy. “Can you get into the police department records of stolen vehicles and fill out a report on my truck? Date the report yesterday morning. You have all the info on it, including the license plate number.”

  “Good as done.” Skizzy smiled a little too devilishly. Any time he could play around in the heads of the locals, he was in his element.

  Dagger told Sara, in thought only, what he had asked Skizzy to do.

  Of all the vehicles to fall on. I should have parked it on the street but I
wanted to blend in.

  Don’t worry about it. What’s done is done.

  That’s the second vehicle of yours I’ve destroyed.

  You never did like that truck. Sometimes I think you destroy them on purpose. Dagger smiled at that thought.

  I liked the ’64 Mustang convertible. I LOVED your Mustang convertible.

  Dagger sighed. My ’64-and-a-half classic Mustang convertible. It was a beauty.

  “All done,” Skizzy announced.

  Go on home, Sara. “Thanks, Skizzy. Now all I have to do is wait for Padre to get the heads-up on the identification of all the vehicles destroyed last night.”

  “And then what? Can’t dance around that old tune for too long,” Skizzy said.

  “Right. Then I’ll have to do what I don’t do best…come clean.”

  “I won’t take up too much of your time, Your Eminence.” Padre took a seat at the conference table in the Tyler mansion.

  “I’m just glad to have some quiet time to finish my speech. I understand the hotel is pretty hectic today.” Esrey was casually dressed in dark pants and shirt. He set aside his yellow lined pad to give the detective his undivided attention.

  Padre waited for Lily to set a tray of glasses and a water pitcher on the table. Once she closed the conference door, he pulled out his notepad and pen. “Had you met Hank Hanover, the security guard who was murdered in your hotel room?”

  Esrey appeared to wince at the word murdered. “No, I hadn’t. My assistant asked the hotel to arrange for security when we realized there might be some disruptions during my stay. I sent a letter of condolence to his family.”

  “The hotel claims they had not received a call for housekeeping yet a cleaning cart was outside your hotel room.”

  “Sorry.” Esrey shrugged apologetically. “I, of course, was here. I certainly don’t want to accuse Mister Hanover of anything but if he was inside of my hotel suite then it wasn’t what was understood of his services. Perhaps he heard something and asked housekeeping to unlock the door.”