Chasing Ghosts

by Lee Driver

  “That’s what I had thought, although housekeeping would have had to admit the intruder first and we can’t find the employee in order to ask her.”

  “I thought hotels had surveillance cameras.”

  “That certainly would make my job a lot easier. The floor you are on has had the cameras removed for guest privacy, which doesn’t make sense because these guests are statistically more likely to be victims of crime.”

  Padre flipped to the next page in the notepad. “Your assistant studied the photos I took of your hotel suite but doesn’t think anything had been stolen. Do you have any idea what the thief might have been looking for?”

  “Probably for me. Perhaps he was the father or relative of an abused child who wanted to voice his disappointment in the church. I have run into them for a number of years now. Most will sit down and speak rationally. Some are a bit vocal. But certainly no acts of violence.”

  “There’s always a first time. Six radicals disrupted Easter Mass at a cathedral in Chicago. Their issue was the Iraq war.”

  “Yes, I heard about that. We are living in some very conflicting times. I know the church has a lot of fences to mend, Sergeant.” Esrey poured two glasses of water and passed one to Padre. The French doors to the veranda were open and the sounds of riding mowers could be heard, sending the scent of grass clippings wafting through the air. “Have you identified the man who committed suicide?”

  “Not yet. If he had any identification on him, it was destroyed in the fire.” Padre didn’t want to share all of Luther’s findings. “We do have DNA but it will take a week or two to get those results.” Padre studied the extremely calm man. For having two people die in his hotel suite, he would have expected Esrey to cancel his speech and leave town. But he was standing firm, either from naiveté or sheer stubbornness.

  Padre made one more attempt to change the cardinal’s mind. “You can always reschedule your speech. If this man did mean to cause you harm or was so distraught to commit suicide, there may be others out there.”

  But even as he spoke, the cardinal was shaking his head back and forth. “I know it’s your job, Sergeant Martinez, but I’m not going to change my plans. From here I go to Rome for a special hearing with the Pope.”

  Translation: interview. Padre had heard that Esrey was being considered for an undisclosed post at the Vatican. The secrecy surrounding the appointment made Padre think that Esrey might garner an ambassadorship or special envoy assignment to a country where religion is frowned upon, thus the need for discretion.

  “The hotel management can’t explain how the intruder gained access to the executive level of the hotel.”

  Esrey thought about that for a moment, twisting and pulling at one eyebrow. It appeared strange for a grown man to have the nervous habit of a child. “Did you ever think, Sergeant, that maybe the man was a hotel worker? Maybe he had a key to my floor.”

  “The manager accounts for all of his employees. Doesn’t even have a housekeeping employee missing.”

  “Obviously, it isn’t that hard to get a key.”

  Padre pushed his chair away and stood. Something still wasn’t clicking. “You know, it was in the papers that Robert Tyler was hosting a reception for you. I can’t help thinking this guy was waiting for you to leave so he could search your hotel room, which tells me you weren’t his target.”

  “So then what was he after?”

  “That is the question now, isn’t it?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Sheila rushed down the circular drive. “Padre,” she called out.

  The detective stopped and turned. He gave her a once-over and nodded. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you dress so conservatively before.”

  Sheila looked down at her crisp white suit, white heels, white chiffon blouse buttoned to her neck. “Very convent-like, don’t you think? And I didn’t even get to talk to the cardinal. I was given his underling to interview.”

  Padre pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. This was the sign Sheila was hoping to see. A pause from Padre was like an invitation to dinner. She pulled her own cigarette from a case and took the light Padre offered.

  “The underling is a certified priest. Show a little respect. Did he have anything interesting to say?”

  “I don’t know. Might cost you.”

  Padre smiled. “Ahhh, you do know how to hold your cards close.”

  Sheila smiled back. “You know me. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

  They ambled down the circular drive to the parking lot. Padre’s dented unmarked squad car looked anemic next to the shiny silver Jaguar. Sheila changed cars about as often as she changed clothes.

  “Let’s see,” Padre started, “since we haven’t identified the man who jumped…”

  “Or was pushed,” Sheila interjected.

  “…or was pushed, the cardinal can’t say whether or not he knew him. He had been able to gain access to the executive floor and the cardinal’s suite which leads me to believe our jumper might have known the security guard.”

  “You think the security guard was casing the place out for some secret Vatican jewels and he and his partner had a falling out?”

  “Good theory but the cardinal’s assistant hasn’t reported anything of value missing.” They reached the parking lot where Padre stopped to gaze longingly at the Jag.

  “Doting Thomas…” Sheila laughed at the look on Padre’s face. “I’m sorry. It’s Father Donald Thomas but he dotes so much on the cardinal that I just had to peg the guy with a nickname. He moves like he mainlines caffeine with a little obsessive- compulsive thrown in for good measure.” Sheila shook her platinum hair and straightened her back as though she were a windup doll. “I have to iron his shirts twice, lay out fresh socks at noon, he likes two creams, one sugar, and it has to be the real stuff, no fake sugar. His bath is drawn at nine o’clock sharp.” Sheila moved her arms robotically as she mimicked Father Thomas. “Give me a break.”

  “The man is serious about his duties.”

  “Whatever.” Sheila flicked her wrist as though shooing him away. “Anyway, I asked him about any threats on the cardinal’s life in the way of phone calls and threatening letters. Doting Thomas either didn’t know or wasn’t saying.”

  Padre ran a hand over the hood of the Jag.

  “You’re drooling, Padre.”

  “A man can dream, can’t he?”

  “I’m supposed to give Dagger an update. Anything you want me to share with him to steer him in the wrong direction?”

  “He’s asking about this case?”

  “I can tell when something piques Dagger’s interest. He wasn’t just innocently strolling through the parking lot where the man took a dive. He was genuinely curious. Just haven’t figured out why yet and you certainly can’t convince me you didn’t get the same impression,” she added with a sly smile.

  The throaty sound of a powerful engine echoed down the drive. Sunlight danced off the windshield of a blue Jaguar XKR 100. The convertible screeched to a stop in front of them.

  Sheila smiled at the handsome man who leaped over the driver’s side door. His sun bleached hair and tanned skin spelled surf and sun. He pulled off aviator sunglasses and smiled at Sheila.

  “Like your taste in cars.” Nick Tyler wrapped Sheila in a bear hug. “Hi, sis.” Sheila wasn’t any relation. She was closer in age to Nick’s brother, Eric. But the Tylers and Monroes were inseparable when they were growing up. There were few multi- millionaire families in Cedar Point and they all traveled in the same circles.

  “Doesn’t anyone own a Prius these days?” Padre asked. “You know, good mileage, help the environment, go green.”

  “When the Cedar Point police department starts giving all their cops Priuses to drive, then I’ll buy one,” Nick replied. He had a handshake for Padre, then plopped down on the hood of Sheila’s Jag.

  “Just get back into town?” Sheila asked.

  “This morning. There’s only so much of nude beac
hes a guy can take.”

  “I thought you majored in business management?” Padre quipped.

  “I was managing business.” Nick grinned, revealing one deep dimple. “Thought I’d check out the Tyler resort in Martinique. Dad’s trying to win me over by sending me to the island resorts.”

  Padre’s phone rang. He checked the screen, then flipped the phone open. “Martinez.” His face slowly showed shock, then anger. “I’m on my way in.” He snapped the phone closed saying, “Well, some of us have to work for a living.”

  “Anything I should know about?” Sheila had watched his face with curiosity. She could read just about everyone’s face… sometimes.

  “Nope.” With a wave to Sheila, Padre said, “Adios,” turned and walked to his car.

  Nick watched the detective climb into the battered car and drive away. “So what’s happened that has the police on Dad’s doorstep?”

  Sheila filled him in on the cardinal’s visit and the deaths at the hotel.

  “The cardinal is staying here?” Nick looked up at the house as though expecting to see the cardinal watching them from a window.

  Sheila followed his gaze. “Nice guy for a clergyman.” She returned her gaze to the fading taillights. “Wish I could find a way to get on his good side.”

  “The cop or the clergy?” That one dimple showed itself as Nick climbed off the hood and carefully wiped the tail of his shirt across the spot where he had sat. “Good as new.”

  Sheila’s lacquered nails drummed on the purse she clutched to her chest. “Are you going to be in town for a while?”

  Nick knew Sheila well enough to know when she was hatching a plan. “Why?”

  “I thought you could be my eyes and ears around the cardinal, maybe pick up a few words here and there. I’m thinking he is playing down any death threats he’s received so as to quell any negative publicity. Maybe he did know the guy who pitched himself out of his hotel window. Maybe not. But he or his handler may slip up.”

  “Then you can do something for me.” Nick walked back to his car, reached into the glove box, and pulled out a small white box.

  “For me?” Sheila said.

  Nick laughed. “No, but I’d like a woman’s opinion.”

  Sheila set her purse on the car hood and stared at the box with the excitement of a four-year-old on Christmas morning. She carefully opened the lid and gasped. “Oh my gawd!” A dazzling pink diamond perched in a marquise setting sparkled in the sunlight. “Can I try it on?”

  “No! It’s supposed to be bad luck.”

  “Luck, schmuck.” Sheila slipped it onto her ring finger and gasped again. “This has to be at least four carats.” She held out her hand and admired the gem. Then the realization hit her as to the identity of the lucky girl and it was all she could do to contain her feelings of pity. Nick would be an excellent catch for any woman but the woman he was after loved someone else.

  “I know what you’re thinking.”

  Sheila realized her face must have read like a neon sign. “What’s that, sweetie?” She pulled the ring off and placed it back in the box.

  “I have more to offer Sara than Dagger ever could. Dad said he’d give me the resort in Martinique to run. What woman wouldn’t love to live in an island paradise? I’d buy her a palace fit for a queen. Her own private plane. Shopping trips to Paris. A second home in France.”

  Sheila handed him the box, her mind turning over scenarios. With Sara out of the picture, she might have a chance to get Dagger back. Nick was so young and naïve and she hated to see him get hurt. Dagger could claim that he and Sara are just business partners but she had seen the way Dagger protects her, had seen the two of them together. If there isn’t something there now, it’s just a matter of time.

  “You said yourself,” Nick reminded her, “that Dagger and Sara are just business partners. I think she may be a little infatuated with him, with his exciting life. But that’s all there is to it.”

  “Nick, players like you can have a different woman every night. But when it comes to marriage, you are always looking for the saintly virgin. And lord knows, Sara is probably the last one in town. Why don’t you just sleep with her and nip your curiosity in the bud?”

  “How do you know we already haven’t?”

  Sheila opened her car door and turned toward him. “A big sister knows such things. I can see it in the way you talk about her. The only thing missing is the word love.”

  “God, she’s beautiful, smart. Of course I love her. What man wouldn’t? She’s never jealous. Understands how my schedule and social status puts me in contact with a lot of other women but she doesn’t mind.”

  “And why is that, Nicholas?” Ever since Nick’s mother passed away, Sheila had always felt that Nick was missing some sound, motherly advice. Robert was too busy to offer any and Nick was too proud to display any weakness to his father. Eric wasn’t an expert on women seeing how his deceased wife tried to sell the family down the river. “Could it be she doesn’t mind because she doesn’t care?” She could see in his face that her words stung and she had to rein in her criticism. A plan was already formulating in her mind.

  “She has yet to turn down a date, even when it’s last minute notice. When I call her from Europe she is ecstatic to hear my voice. We have been to so many places and done so many things since we’ve met.”

  “Oh, sweetie.” Sheila walked back over and wrapped her arms around him. “Sara has been so sheltered from the outside world that she wants to see what’s out there. Dagger likes to stay below the radar, believe me. He wouldn’t be caught dead going to museum fundraisers, the theatre, or art shows. But Sara wouldn’t feel comfortable going alone.”

  “So you’re saying she’s using me?” The thought had obviously never occurred to him. He was used to using women, not the other way around.

  “I just want you to be prepared for her response. It may not be a direct ‘no,’ but she may say she needs time.” She climbed into her car and started the engine. “In the meantime, I might be able to give you a little help.”

  She left him pondering that comment as she sped down the driveway. The Lifestyles Editor at the Daily Herald was Gabby Goldstein. Gabriella’s phone number was on Sheila’s speed dial and Gabby was going to love this hot piece of gossip that was going to be dropped into her lap. Gabby may not have a current picture of Sara and Nick but the Daily Herald had some stock photos from one of the numerous out-and-about photo layouts that could be pieced together. Sheila couldn’t help but smile at her good fortune.

  CHAPTER 14

  He opened the suitcase and checked all the compartments, the nun zipped the outside compartments, jamming his hands deep, his fingers probing at the crevices. Next he dumped the contents from the briefcase out onto the bed and pawed through the papers and file folders.

  “Damn!” He moved to the bathroom and checked the toiletry bag again, spilling the contents onto the bathroom counter. Nothing. It had to still be in the suite but he couldn’t get back into the hotel yet. There wasn’t anything he could do now. At least he had already loaded the contents of the flash drive into the laptop. All he needed now was to decrypt the information.

  The police weren’t sure who the intruder had been or what he had been looking for. The safe hadn’t been touched. Had he followed them to Cedar Point to retrieve the flash drive? No one knew where they were headed. It had been a chance encounter at the airport. Or had it?

  “Are you sure?” Chief Wozniak rocked back in his plush leather chair, the crime scene investigator’s report between thick fingers. Baby fine tufts of red hair sprouted from the tops of his hands, a softer red than what was on his head. Beady eyes squinted at the fine print.

  Padre sat across the desk from the chief of detectives, wanting desperately to loan him a pair of bifocals but he knew John Wozniak’s ego wouldn’t permit anyone to see granny- type glasses perched on the tip of his bulbous nose. Their friendship dated back to seminary school before John chalked up two marr
iages with the third hanging by an apron string, and Padre began finding more satisfaction in saving the public from criminals than in saving souls.

  “As sure as I am that Dagger knows more than he’s letting on.” The report Padre had shared with the chief confirmed that the truck the alleged suicide victim fell on was Dagger’s. “The truck’s serial number confirms that it’s his even though the license plate was destroyed in the fire.” Padre slid another report across the desk.

  “What’s this?”

  Padre just sighed and motioned for Wozniak to read. Any other chief would have hauled Padre and Luther in for dereliction of duty. Since Wozniak was also involved in the Friday the Thirteenth case, he would be more open to the details of this case than the average cop. While Wozniak read, Padre studied the walls cluttered with photos, certificates, awards, keys to the city, photos of fishing trips. On the credenza behind Wozniak were pictures of the current wife and his son, Aaron, photos from scout outings where the chief was a scout leader. Padre fingered the gold cross under his shirt collar as he watched Wozniak’s eyebrows crawl up his forehead like furry red caterpillars. His eyes flicked to Padre.

  “Let me get this straight. A guy is blown to smithereens in the quarry and the same guy or a twin leaps out of the twelfth floor of the Ritz Hotel landing on Dagger’s truck.”

  “Don’t forget the part where we have records showing Lee Connors had called a cab to take him to Dagger’s place.”

  “Oh, I read that part where Connors visits Dagger yet he had already been dead for two days, in the trunk of his own car no doubt. But how do you tie Dagger to the guy in the quarry?”

  Padre told him how Dagger had jokingly told him, “The guy threatened me, I killed him and had Skizzy dump the body in the limestone quarry, but not before some bomb planted in the guy’s neck blew his head off.”