Authors: LYNN BOHART
Giorgio moved off the hillside
down
to the path that extended along the backside of the building, mentally counting windows and imagining what lay behind them.
He passed the monks
’
quarters and stopped at the window he believed stood at the top of the main staircase in the conference center.
Something didn’t add up.
Unless Mallery Olsen left her room at some point
and was killed outside
, she had to have been killed
in
her room.
That complicated everything
because no one could have gotten her down the staircase without being seen
.
And w
hile someone from the conference could have slipped upstairs
to her room
unnoticed, a monk
going upstairs
would have stood out
to the bartenders
unless he was dressed in street clothes.
And what about this second murder?
Whoever the young man was buried in the garden, anyone could have arranged to meet him outside during the dinner, including a monk.
And
did his murder have anything to do with Olsen
’
s
?
Giorgio stood contemplating all of this when a creepy-crawly feeling began to inch its way across his shoulders.
He came to attention and looked around
thinking someone must have come outside again
.
But there was no one around.
Giorgio looked up the hill, but the officer guarding the muddy hole stood with his back to Giorgio. Giorgio looked toward the kitchen, but there was no one visible there either.
Was he being watched?
He’d had the same feeling once at the scene of a shooting when the shooter had been standing only a few feet behind him in a crowd of onlookers.
On a hunch, he turned back to the second floor window
at the head of the stairs
.
An overhanging tree thr
ew
a shadow across the window
, ye
t a faint image was barely visible against the glass.
He squinted, straining to make it out.
Suddenly, a
chill jolted its way down his spine.
It was the
boy staring
at him, his white shirt and black suspenders only dimly outlined behind the glass.
The youth raised his hand to point a finger directly at Giorgio, turning the creepy-crawly feeling into a full-blown shiver.
Giorgio turned and broke into a run, bursting through the kitchen door and sprinting down the hallway into the main lobby.
Adrenalin surged through his veins as he took the stairs two at a time, sliding to a halt at the top of the landing for the second time in only a few days.
The boy was gone, leaving only a cold hallway behind.
Giorgio threw open doors on either side
of the landing
this time
to make
quick searches of the rooms, but he was left standing disoriented in the hallway feeling a chill pass to the core of his spine.
What was going on?
Was he seeing a ghost or just letting his imagination get the best of him?
Not one person had mentioned the presence of a young boy on the premises
,
and yet he’d seen the same boy twice
.
Returning to the landing, he turned to the window where the boy had appeared.
Why had the boy pointed at him?
His eyes scanned the path below and then moved out into the flowerbeds and the area around the statues.
Maybe the boy wasn’t pointing at him
, but
at something else.
Giorgio surveyed the area inch by inch, quadrant by quadrant.
When he found something that didn’t look as if it belonged there, namely something that looked manmade, he paused, focusing on that spot.
Slowly, an image began to emerge.
Lying in between the raised roots of a large tree was a dark object about fifteen inches long.
He hurried down the stairs and returned to the area just below the window.
The rain had stopped and he stepped off the path, climbing through low-growing shrubs to a small rise where a tree arched over a bank of prickly bushes.
With his
hands
stuffed into
his pockets to protect them, he pushed his way through the snagging foliage to a bare spot only visible from above.
Tucked into a crevice made by two gnarly roots of the tree lay the object he sought.
Grabbing a handkerchief, he reached out and lifted up a wine bottle la
beled, “Crystal Moon Chardonnay
”
.
Giorgio studied the bottle wondering if this was a clue or just a piece of trash.
A quick glance to the window gave him the answer he was looking for.
The boy was back.
Giorgio held up the bottle and a moment later the boy vanished.
Chapter Twenty-T
wo
By four o’clock that afternoon the second body had been identified as Jeff
Dorman
, a young man who had attended the conference but left before the banquet.
None of the conference organizers knew anything about him.
The preliminary report showed he was killed by a forceful blow to the side of the head.
Time of death had not yet been established.
Officer Maxwell had volunteered to stand in on the autopsy so Giorgio could go home and change into dry clothes.
He came back wearing a Yankee baseball jacket and cap and was greeted by a small crowd of press people milling about the rear entrance.
He was forced to make a brief statement, saying there would be a press conference later that afternoon.
While this didn’t wholly satisfy anyone, it kept the throng at bay long enough for him to slip inside.
Giorgio had
missed lunch
and so
stopped at the vending machine for a Coke and a bag of corn nuts.
Angie hadn’t been home when he’d gone back to change which was a good thing.
He could stand down a killer but didn’t stand a chance with Angie.
Swan was at his desk when Giorgio entered, his back arched and his head thrown backwards.
The big cop let out a
groan as his muscles stretched.
“Want some ibuprofen or maybe a rack?” Giorgio inquired, not even trying to hide his cynicism.
“Naw,” Swan said, straightening up.
“I just need to start stretching again.”
He gestured to Grosvner who was watching Giorgio pop corn nuts into his mouth.
“He’s turning into a first-class police dog, don’t you think?”
Giorgio looked down at the dog and tossed him a corn nut.
“I guess,” he replied without conviction.
“It was probably just dumb luck.”
“I wouldn’t say that.
Bassets have an extraordinary sense of smell.”
Swan lifted his arms above his head as if reaching for the ceiling.
“That’s what those long ears are for, you know. They were developed to stir up and hold the scent.”
Swan’s voice squeezed out as he stretched upwards. “Same thing for all those folds in his skin.
The folds trap the scent.
I wouldn’t count him out.
He was bred to hunt small game.”
“So finding a corpse is the same as finding small game.”
Giorgio crunched on a nut.
Swan chortled as he lowered both arms.
“No, but he knew what he was digging for.”
“He could just be a digger,” Giorgio replied, taking a swig of coffee.
“Some dogs are, you know.”
“I doubt it,” Swan said leaning over to touch the floor.
“He could’ve dug anywhere in that garden, but he went to the very spot where a body was buried.”
He bounced once or twice, touching the floor and then straightened up, shaking out his shoulders.
“You know about cadaver dogs don’t you?
They can find a dead body under water.”
Swan gave Giorgio an influential look as if he was selling Grosvner’s attributes short.
“I think you’ve got a bloodhound on your hands.
They are part of the hound family, you know?”
Giorgio still looked unconvinced as he flipped another nut in the air.
Grosvner snapped it up.
“Well, I don’t think it will make much difference to Angie
.”
“
I take it s
he
still
doesn’t like him
.
”
Giorgio took his jacket off and draped it over the back of his chair.
“Let’s just say the jury is still out on that one.”
Swan took the hint and sat at his own desk.
“So, what do we do next?”
“If the Captain is
back
, I think we need to talk about meeting with the press.”
“How much are you willing to tell them?”
“Maybe it’s time to tell them everything.
I noticed a CNN truck out there.
If we don’t tell them what we know, they’ll find out anyway and we’ll look stupid.
Can you watch Grosvner?
I’ll be back in a few.”
He stood up and threw the last few corn nuts into his mouth before heading down the hall to the Captain’s office.
Forty-five minutes later, Giorgio stood on the front steps of the police department with ten or twelve microphones stuck in his face.
The small brunette was front and center.
Eventually, all reasonable questions were answered and he cut it off with the traditional, “That’s all for now,” and went back inside.
Swan met him in the hallway.
“How’d it go?”
“We’ll find out on the six o’clock news.
I just wish I knew how they found out about the finger.
That’s all they kept asking about.”
He threw a suspicious glance at Swan who threw up his hands.
“Don’t look at me.
There were a dozen officers there that night.”
He turned and followed Giorgio back to their office.
“Pretty hard to keep something like that a secret.”
“Okay, let’s start putting this puzzle together.
I want to find out what was in that second bottle of wine I found.”
He avoided saying anything about the boy.
No need to get the entire department talking about ghosts.
“Get McCready and let’s meet in the conference room.”
The lights flickered on in the conference room as Giorgio entered
with another can of pop
in hand
.
The chipped, gray walls were covered by an old chalkboard, a large map of the county
,
and several corkboards.
Two large file c
abinets sat in the corner
.
The linoleum floor was scuffed and dirty
,
and a meta
l wastebasket sat in the corner
overflowing with coffee c
ups and candy wrappers.
A long tabled filled the center of the room surrounded by metal chairs.