Inspector Specter (30 page)

“Marty, put the gun down.” McElone was looking up, toward where Ferry's gun was giving him away. “We have him.”

“His lawyer will get him off,” Ferry said, shaking his head. His finger was looking awfully itchy.

I looked up at him. “If you do that, they'll think the lieutenant shot him with the gun I gave her,” I told Ferry. “We'll probably both end up doing time. Because our alibi will be a ghost.”

“Get him to confess,” Ferry said. “Get him to confess and maybe I won't kill him.”

I got the voice recorder out of my bag. “He says you have to confess,” I told Buster.

But Buster was a tough nut to crack. Already tied up, staring at two guns in his face, he said only, “I want to see my lawyer.”

Martin Ferry pulled back the hammer on the gun he was holding. “Stand aside, Anita,” he said.

I told McElone what he'd said. She didn't hesitate at all. She stood directly in front of Buster Hockney and stared, for once, directly at the spot where Martin Ferry was floating.

“No,” she said.

Buster grinned. For a second. Until the gun swung around McElone and lined itself up with the back of his head.

In shock, Buster blurted out a confession. And Martin Ferry, looking at his ex-partner, took the gun down and handed it to me.

I gave it to McElone. She's the cop.

She immediately called for backup and started to lead Buster and Vinnie out of the apartment. Lay-Z was fine but passed out on the floor. We figured the cops could handle him when they got there. I followed the lieutenant, carrying the voice recorder that held the evidence against Martin Ferry's killer and the murderer of Harry ‘the Fish' Monroe. Behind me, Dad and Martin Ferry floated down from their respective perches and beat us outside, having the advantage of being able to pass through the walls and fly.

The police cruisers were already at the curb when we got downstairs; apparently McElone's reputation commanded respect in Seaside Heights, too. Vinnie and Buster were in patrol cars being taken in for booking before we could think about it, which was fine with me. I'd had enough weapons pointed at me for one day and just wanted to go home and hug my daughter for a couple of weeks.

It was, then, something of a surprise to see McElone allowing a tear to drop from her eye as the cruiser drove away. I didn't ask, but I assumed she was thinking about her children like I had been about Melissa.

She didn't look at me but stared straight ahead. “Thanks for coming to get me,” she said.

I didn't know exactly how to respond. “You'd have done it for me.”

“It's my job.” McElone never did anything the easy way with me.

“It's what a friend does,” I said.

Behind me, I heard Martin Ferry. “Awwwww . . .” he drawled sarcastically. “I might cry.”

“Don't stomp on the moment,” I warned him.

McElone looked down at me; the woman is tall and imposing. “I can't hear him, but I'm willing to bet Martin said something rude,” she said.

“You're getting the hang of it,” I told her.

“Swell.” McElone shook off the emotion she'd exhibited and looked at me. “Can you drive me to the Seaside Heights department?” she asked. “I imagine they'll have a few questions for us.”

“I just want to go home,” I said, trying unsuccessfully not to sound whiny.

“Nothing I can do about that,” she answered. “But if there's anything else I can do . . .”

“As a matter of fact, I have something in mind,” I told her.

McElone's eyes narrowed. “Is this a ghosty thing?” she asked as we got into the convection oven I called a Volvo.

“You bet it is,” I said.

“This is gonna blow your mind.” Maxie was smiling so broadly that I was afraid her lips would meet at the back of her head. Which in Maxie's case would only be the third weirdest thing to happen that Monday morning. “You'll just be completely amazed.”

I didn't think I'd be surprised at all, but I was letting Maxie have her moment. This was the last spook show the guests would see before the Senior Plus van came to pick them up and take them home, and I wanted the ghosts to be loose and happy to participate.

Melissa looked up and smiled knowingly. She and I had exchanged folded pieces of paper on which we'd written what we thought Maxie's surprise might be. We'd vowed to open them once it was revealed.

Kitty Malone, finally cleared by her daughter to visit again, was standing by the entrance to the room, looking a little baffled. I'd asked, but Maxie hadn't told her mother the big secret she was about to reveal. I hoped Kitty would be pleased.

The movie room wasn't entirely ready yet, but it was functional enough. I needed to stain the paneling and cover the floor, but the giant flat screen was up, even if not running at the moment. The room-darkening drapes I'd gotten for the windows were open, so sunlight was streaming through, no doubt causing my air-conditioning bill to skyrocket.

Joe and Bonnie, arms wrapped around each other's waists, watched the hanging light fixture turn itself on and off. Paul, enjoying his new role as animated battery, was pointing a finger and powering various devices. It was, frankly, more interesting if you could see Paul. Otherwise, it was just lights going on and off.

Don and Tammy didn't seem as fascinated in the show. They were staring into each other's eyes with oddly sad expressions on their faces. I've seen it when people have especially enjoyed a vacation and are sorry to see it end. Don put his hand on Tammy's, and I thought she might actually start to cry, but she held it together.

Maxie, still with the cat-v.-canary smirk, descended from the ceiling wearing a khaki T-shirt reading “Army Strong.” I nodded knowingly at Liss, who did the same back. “Here we go,” she said.

Kitty perked up when Melissa told her what Maxie had said.

Rita and Stephanie had walked in, iced teas in hand, and took part in the audience-participation part of the show, when guests were encouraged to toss stress balls in the air, where a ghost would catch it and lightly toss it back. Rita, having lost her nervous scowl, especially delighted in this, throwing one ball behind her back and having Maxie fly it directly over her head and drop it.

“Are you ready?” Maxie shouted now.

Dad, hanging back at the entrance, rolled his eyes. “We're ready! We've been ready for half an hour!”

My mother, just to his left side (and two feet down from Dad), pursed her lips. “Stop, Jack,” she said quietly. “Let the girl have her fun.” Dad looked suitably admonished.

Even with Maxie's huge reveal happening, my mind was elsewhere. Josh had given me a hard time for getting myself into danger—twice—even if McElone had been there with me. He liked the investigative part of my work but wasn't crazy about me getting guns pointed at me. I resolved only to get involved in things like tax evasion from now on. He reminded me that tax evasion had been used to jail Al Capone. I don't always use the best examples.

Jeannie, sounding more relaxed than she had in over a year, had called to thank me again for watching Oliver while she and Tony were gone. And she mentioned something about she and Tony taking another trip in six months or so, but I did not take the bait just yet.

I'd also heard from Phyllis Coates, who was running a story about the murders. Lenore Mancini and her son were both likely to go to jail, she said, although not for as long as Buster Hockney, Vinnie Monroe and Harry's wife, Teresa, against whom evidence (including Lay-Z's testimony, which had been painstakingly obtained from him in under three minutes) was building.

Paul had been in touch with Martin Ferry a few times since the arrests. Ferry said he was able to get out of the apartment building before his place was permanently rented out, though he seemed restricted to Seaside Heights. He was now happily haunting his old station house, taking special pleasure in annoying those cops who hadn't cared for him when he was alive.

I'd gone out to see Harry the former Fish at the end of the pier, and he had not been pleased to hear his wife had hired his grandson to drown him, then drown him again, and then stick him in his car. All in all, he said, “a bullet to the head does the job, for cryin' out loud.” It was difficult to argue. “That's why Vinnie was never going to get my territories. The kid has all the brains of an anvil.”

Phyllis had been told to keep my name out of the story but had gotten enough from McElone and the police records that “I wouldn't have had room for you anyway.” It was, somehow, both comforting and insulting at the same time.

Maxie flew to one of the windows, looked out, smiled even wider (she could have been an ad for a ghost toothpaste) and then closed the drapes. That part of the room went dark.

“That's it?” Rita said. “That's the big surprise?” Rita was making up for lost time ghost-fearing-wise.

“No,” Maxie responded, as if Rita could hear her. “There's
this
!”

She pulled the drapes apart again, and there, looking sheepish while trying to preserve some semblance of his dignity, was Everett Sandheim in his Army fatigues and a camouflage poncho, standing in an “at ease” position.

I held out my hand. Melissa low-fived me.

“So the drapes are open,” Tammy said. She sounded a little baffled.

“It's my boyfriend, Everett!” Maxie shouted. She got a look from Paul, who seemed stunned, applause from Mom and Dad, who appeared to think that was what she was expecting, and folded arms from Melissa and me.

“I don't see anything,” Stephanie called. “Did we miss something?”

Melissa was holding up my slip of paper, on which was written, “EVERETT.” I unfolded hers, which bore the same message, and flashed it back at her. I gave Maxie a look that indicated we'd have to talk later.

Paul, however, was dumbfounded. “You . . . he . . . I just . . .” He smiled—he really does like Maxie and was happy for her—and shook his head.

“Everett,” I said to the deceased soldier, “may we see some evidence of your presence, please?” I didn't know Everett that well, especially in his nonhomeless role, so I was treading lightly.

“Roger that,” he said. From inside the poncho, which vanished, he produced a drill rifle. A couple of the guests gasped.

“Everett,” I cautioned.

“There is no ammunition in the rifle,” he said, and I passed that information on to the gathering. They seemed to relax.

Then Everett did a drill routine, twirling the gun expertly, holding it out and then pulling back in rhythm only Everett could hear, impressing everyone with his precision, particularly those who saw the rifle performing all by itself. There was a rousing round of applause when Everett finished with a flourish.

In true military fashion, he did not allow himself a smile until after the ovation had ended (not, again, that most of the audience could see anything but the rifle anyway) and Maxie yelled, “At ease!” Then Everett's shoulders softened, and he reached out a hand to Maxie, who took it.

“I guess that does it, guys,” I told the guests. “The van will be here in about a half hour. I really do hope everyone enjoyed the stay. We loved having you.”

They gave
me
a round of applause, and I felt my cheeks get warm. There are moments in this business that really do make it all worthwhile.

The guests went off to pack their things, with Tammy and Don especially lagging behind, never letting go of each other's hand. It was inspiring to see a couple so dedicated to each other.

“You guys are really something,” I said as they ambled toward the stairway. Don turned to look at me.

“What do you mean?”

“I just love the way you hang on to each other,” I said. “Some couples, by the end of a vacation, would rather spend a week apart just for the change of pace.”

Tammy laughed a little. “Oh, we're not that special,” she said.

“You seem so sad to be leaving,” Mom told her.

Don shrugged. “It's just that after this, I have to go back to my wife, and Tammy'll be with her husband.” Tammy bit her lip; they held up their joined hands and walked to the stairway while we stared at them.

“Did he just . . . ?” Melissa asked.

“Later,” I said.

Once the civilians were out of the room, the rest of us gathered around Maxie and Everett. “I started trying to teach him how to move around, remember?” Maxie said. Of course I remembered; it had been my idea. But never mind. “So we got to know each other and, well, here we are.”

“Yes, we are,” Everett told us. He looked over at Paul. “You should let Maxie show you how to escape,” he offered. “She helped me.”

Paul shrugged. “Sometimes it's not so bad to be in one place,” he said. I smiled at him. Then he looked at Maxie. “Besides, she's tried. I think it's all about the pupil.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” Melissa demanded of Maxie.

“I didn't want your mom to make fun of me,” she answered, looking directly at me and adding, “You know how you are.”

“How
I
am?” I was having a hard time believing this whole conversation.

Maxie turned to face Liss. “And
you
just can't keep a secret from her,” she said, once again indicating that any negativity here would be seen as my fault. “I didn't want to say anything until I knew for sure Everett was interested. And I didn't know how to tell my mom, either,” she continued, swooping over to Kitty and waving a scarf to indicate her position.

“A military man,” Maxie's mother beamed.

“Roger that,” Everett confirmed.

“I'd always hoped you'd find someone responsible,” Kitty said.

This time it was Maxie who beamed.

“So I'm betting the cap Rita saw by the beach was Everett signaling you, Maxie?” I said.

Maxie very uncharacteristically looked away, but Everett said, “Yes, ma'am. I didn't think anyone saw me. I hope I didn't scare your guest.”

I tilted my head. “Not too badly. Don't worry about it.”

Before the adorableness became too much to handle, I had a text message buzz on my phone. I looked down.

McElone.

“I'm right outside your house. Have something for you.”

Some things never change. I excused myself and walked out to the furnacelike heat of the porch, where McElone was standing with her husband, Thomas, by her side. She was holding a messenger bag in her hands, flat.

“I never got the chance to thank you,” Thomas said before I could greet them. “You did an amazing thing, getting Anita back.”

I'm not comfortable with praise. I avoided eye contact. “Anybody would have done it,” I said.

“I doubt that, but even so, you
did
.” Thomas reached over and gave me a hug. “Don't you want to say so, too, Anita?” he asked.

“Yes, I do.” McElone looked like someone was suggesting she give up her front teeth, but she considered me straight in the eye. “I wasn't properly appreciative of what you did,” she said. “You probably saved my life. I am beholden to you.” And then
she
reached over and gave me a hug. Now I was
really
uncomfortable. Once we stood up straight again, I gestured toward the bag McElone was holding.

“Is that it?” I asked.

“Yep. It was still in the evidence room after all this time.” McElone looked around me into the house. “Is she in there?”

I must have smirked just a little bit, but I tried to hide it. “Yeah, but you don't have to come in if you don't want to.”

“Oh, I don't mind,” she said. “But I haven't been invited.”

Okay, so I was a bad hostess. I gestured them in and then led them to the movie room, where the mood changed noticeably when the crowd saw the lieutenant and her husband there.

“Fuzz,” Maxie said.

“I know her,” Everett told her. “She's a police officer, right?” Everett's memories of his homeless days are sketchy; he remembers his military years better.

“Yeah,” Maxie answered. “And she doesn't like people like us.”

“She doesn't like couples?” Everett seemed truly puzzled, but Maxie grinned at the word
couples
.

“Ghosts,” Paul corrected him.

“I think you both know my mother and Melissa.” But McElone was looking up into the air in the room, not toward any of the ghosts in particular, but she didn't know that.

“I have something for you,” she said too loudly. “To say thank you for helping.”

“Who's she talking to?” Dad asked.