Alice Kimberley - The Ghost and the Femme Fatale

"Bert," the man muttered. "Nobody but my mother calls me Egbert."

"Okay, Egbert, who sent you to tail me?" The man snorted, rubbed the back of his head. "You got it all wrong in the tail department, fella. I wasn't tailing you." Jack squinted. "Oh, you weren't?"

"No. See, I saw that piece o' tail you're with-" he pointed at me-"and I thought I'd grab me some, too. She's not too expensive, is she? Looks like cheap goods to me."

Jack's meaty fist cocked back. "You son of a-" "Jack, don't!"

Too late. He'd knocked the other PI unconscious. I sighed. "That wasn't too smart, Jack. Now he can't tell you a thing."

Jack grabbed the guy's lapels and shook him. "Wake up, shitbird."

The man groaned.

As Jack shook him again, I heard something suspicious. In the street beyond the alley, a car was rumbling closer, only it wasn't rolling at a normal pace. It was cruising slowly, as if the driver were looking for something or someone.

"Jack, listen," I whispered.

"You made a mistake, Shepard," muttered the PI named Egbert. "A big one."

Just then, three gunshots came in succession. Someone was opening fire on us.

It was too dark to see anything but a few white flashes from a dark car window. Above us, an old fire escape pinged as bullets ricocheted off the rusting structure.

Jack reacted instantly. While I was still gaping in shock, he was pulling out his own weapon, returning fire, and pushing me farther into the darkness.

"Move, baby! Go!"

I did, stumbling farther down the alley a few feet before I realized I was holding weapons, too! I dropped the revolver into my pocket, and pointed the Lugar with two hands.

Before I could fire, Jack was next to me, pushing the gun's barrel toward the ground. "I said run. Not shoot!"

"But-"

"Let's go!" Jack hustled me the length of the alley and we turned down the next street. Then he stashed me in a dark doorway and told me to stay put until he returned. A few minutes later, he was back.

"They're gone," he told me, returning his weapon back to the shoulder holster inside his jacket. "Egbert and his ride both hightailed it out of here. But I'm not surprised."

"Why?"

"Those shots landed a mile over our heads. Whoever fired them didn't want to hurt us. They just wanted to scare us." "But who hired them?"

"Something tells me I'll find out soon enough."

"Here," I said, holding out Egbert's weapons. "You want these?"

Jack took them from me. He checked the safeties then pocketed them both. "You did good, sweetheart. Stop shaking." "I thought we were dead."

Jack touched my cheek, gave me the slightest smile. "Only one of us is dead, Penelope. And I'm glad about that."

I was, too, because life was short. I forgot sometimes, but this moment reminded me.

Jack reached over and drew me into his arms. His touch wasn't playful, like it had been in the car; it was tender, his expression ardent. This time, I didn't pull away; and when his mouth covered mine, I closed my eyes and let him drive

"PEN, WAKE UP! Come on, wake up!"

Someone was patting my hand. I tasted dirt, felt a sharp pain in my back and a dull throbbing in my head. "Where am I?"

"You're in the woods beyond Charity Point," a male voice replied. "Don't you remember?"

"What year is it?" I murmured, wondering where Jack had gone.

"Uh-oh, she's acting goofy, Fiona."

I opened my eyes to find Seymour crouched over me, his face pinched with concern. I tried to sit up.

"Wait, maybe you shouldn't move," he said. "Something might be broken."

"I've got to sit up, Seymour. Rocks are digging into my spine, and I think I have a bug in my blouse!"

Seymour called over his shoulder. "I think maybe Pen has a concussion."

I pushed Seymour away. "I don't have a concussion. And who are you talking to, anyway?" I sat up, did a double-take.

Fiona was pale faced, standing beside the mud-splattered golf cart. Grass stains streaked the cart's bright finish. Torn vines clung to the headlights and dangled from the rearview mirror. A low-hanging branch had ripped a ragged hole in the pink-and-white pokka-dotted canvas top. Taking the golf cart off-road and into the woods had obviously exacted a toll on the fragile vehicle.

"Let me guess," I said. " Seymour was driving."

"No, it was me," Fiona replied. "I saw Seymour follow you into the woods. I knew I couldn't catch up unless I had wheels. I drove up the trail and picked up Seymour first. We heard you calling in the distance, but we couldn't find you. Then we heard you scream."

"That's when I grabbed the wheel and made Fiona go off-trail, right through the brush," Seymour said. "And we finally found you."

"I appreciate it."

Seymour and Fiona helped me to my feet. I gingerly touched my head, groaned when I felt the lump above my forehead.

"No blood," Seymour said, inspecting my skull. "Just a jumbo-sized egg." He stepped back, pulled a twig from my auburn hair.

"I think I'm okay," I said.

Seymour frowned. "What the hell happened, Pen? Why did you run into the woods like some nutcase?"

I told them about seeing Dr. Rubino from the top of the lighthouse, then following the man into the woods. I glossed over the part about getting lost. Left out the crazy dream of tracking down clues with Jack Shepard in 1948 Queens, New York, and simply told them that a speeding biker ran me down.

"I'm going to speak with Chief Ciders again," Fiona said angrily. "This is unacceptable. It's trespassing. How long before one of these careless dirt bikers runs down one of my guests!"

Fiona helped me brush off the remaining dirt and leaves from my hair and clothes. "Did you recognize the biker?" she asked. "Someone you maybe saw around town?"

I shook my head. "I don't know… it happened so fast."

Fiona pressed. "What do you remember?"

I closed my eyes, massaged my throbbing temples. "Darth Vader," I said.

Fiona whispered to Seymour. "What does she mean, do you think? That he was all in black?"

Seymour snorted. "Well, I doubt she means he was waving a lightsaber."

"He was a big man," I continued, my eyes still closed as I struggled to replay that split-second flash of memory. "He wore a black leather jacket. His head was completely covered with a darkly tinted visor, and his motorcycle was big. I don't know what brand it was, but it was black and chrome." I sighed and opened my eyes. "That's really all I remember… hey, wait a minute!"

I turned to Seymour. "Do you remember seeing Hedda's granddaughter, Harmony?"

"Sure." Seymour smirked. "I'm a man and I'm breathing. How could I forget seeing her?"

"I meant, do you remember when we saw her at Mr. Koh's fruit bins this morning? Do you remember what happened?"

Seymour 's eyes bulged. "Oh, right! A big motorcyclist in a black leather jacket was flirting with her." He paused and then shrugged. "Of course, there are a lot of motorcyclists in the area, especially in the spring and summer. He might be the same guy, or he might not. We need more to go on."

I nodded. "Right now we just have to go."

Seymour blinked. "Go where?"

"Back to the store." I rubbed my forehead. "I may have taken one in the cranium, but I haven't forgotten that we need to take a look at Dr. Irene Lilly's brand-new book."

IT WAS NEARLY four o'clock when Seymour dropped me off in front of Buy the Book. We'd taken his car to Finch Inn because mine was still crippled by a dead battery.

"I'll be back as soon as I find parking," Seymour said and pulled away from the curb.

The store was crowded with customers, which was certainly gratifying. But I felt a little guilty for having left Sadie and Mina alone for so many hours on such a busy day. On the other hand, Sadie was all for my investigating Irene Lilly's death, and that's what I'd been doing.