P.J. Alderman - Ghost Ship

“Holt Stilwell,” she supplied.

“By Christ, woman! I care not a whit about the man’s name! Will you cease to be so difficult ?”

Her face must have blanched, because he sighed and then continued. “ Stilwell discovered the undamaged portion of the hull on his initial dive. Then he came back on subsequent days to retrieve a number of the tins.”

“Interesting.” To her knowledge, nothing of the sort had been found in either Holt’s house or his truck. If it had, Darcy certainly would have told her. “You don’t happen to know what he did with them, do you?”

“In that regard, I have no interest in helping you,” Garrett replied. “It’s not as if I followed the man around town between his dives. I just happened to be on hand, curious about what he was up to, when he was near the shipwreck. The fool was going to sell them in some kind of auction. He called it a name that doesn’t match any auction house I’m familiar with …”

“eBay, perhaps?”

“Yes, that’s it.”

“How do you know this?”

“Because I was right there, listening when he told his plans to the person who brought him out to the beach in his boat. Stilwell described that his intent was to hold a press conference, then open bidding on the tins.”

“What guy? Holt wasn’t diving with anyone else. At least, we haven’t been able to locate anyone—”

“The other person wasn’t a diver,” Garrett corrected her, looking impatient again. “But the person was quite angry with Stilwell. I presume that’s why Stilwell was murdered. I’ve never understood the reason to murder in circumstances such as those, when torture or a sound beating, at a minimum, can be far more effective—”

“Wait,” Jordan interrupted, excited. “Do you mean to tell me you saw Holt get shot?”

Kathleen stopped what she was doing and looked up.

Garrett shrugged. “Not that it’s of any import, but yes, I witnessed the entire affair.”

Chapter 15

YOU have got to be kidding me,” Darcy groused. “There’s an eyewitness to Holt’s murder, and it’s a ghost ?”

“Yes.”

“And he refused to tell you who did it.” Darcy’s expression was one of utter disbelief.

“Yep.”

The jazz band was on break before its last set of the evening. Customers who didn’t count themselves among the diehards had called it quits and left for home. Taking advantage of the momentary lull, Darcy, Jordan, and several of the men had retreated to a table on the far side of the room to discuss the latest development. Microbrew beer was flowing freely.

Darcy had moved into full rant mode. “I don’t fucking believe this! It’s not as if I can arrest a ghost as a material witness and compel him to testify.”

“He said he wouldn’t reveal facts that might implicate someone he felt the need to protect,” Jordan explained. “Actually, he acted oddly, given that he’s a sociopath. Sociopaths have no conscience.”

“This case is so in the crapper.”

“Who would a sociopath feel the need to protect?” Bob asked. “Another sociopath?”

“Maybe,” Jordan replied, unconvinced.

“No other dead bodies floating around that we know of,” Tom pointed out.

“What I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around,” Jase said, looking grimly at Jordan as he placed a full pitcher on the table and took a seat, “is that you were conversing with the ghost of a murderous drug runner in my kitchen. Did it ever occur to either you or Kathleen that you were in mortal danger from this guy?”

“Of course,” Jordan replied. “But what were we supposed to do? It’s not like I can control the movements of the ghosts in this town any more than Darcy can successfully arrest one. They can do pretty much whatever they want.”

“You could’ve run like hell.”

“I considered it,” Jordan admitted. “But he made it clear that I’d never get away. And call me crazy, but I definitely had the sense it was far better to humor him than to anger him.”

“Jase is right, though—the trend is worrisome,” Darcy said. “In the beginning, the ghosts with whom you came in contact were relatively benign. There’s been an escalation toward more dangerous ones since then, starting with the ghost of Michael Seavey.”

Jordan frowned. “I don’t think Michael Seavey is very dangerous. Not really.”

“He’s not exactly the local choirboy, either,” Jase retorted, standing to gather empties from the next table.

Darcy looked thoughtful. “Do you know what Garrett meant when he said he felt the need to protect someone?”

“No.” Jordan scrubbed her face with both hands. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, leaving her feeling like she’d been flattened by a truck. “I got the impression that at least partially, Garrett just didn’t care. Bob could be on the right track: Thinking from the perspective of a sociopath, you would feel a kinship to others like you. So he could just be protecting the identity of a fellow criminal. But I got the strong sense that it was more than that—that whoever had murdered Holt was someone for whom Garrett felt a sense of obligation.”

Darcy leaned her elbows on the table, pressing her fingers against closed eyes. “I’m now officially suicidal.”

“And it turns out I was right about the two murders being related,” Jordan continued. “Holt was salvaging the opium tins from the hull of the Henrietta Dale . His plans to reveal what he’d found and to auction off the tins were a threat to someone in present day.”

“That’s nice,” Darcy said.

“The question is, who? And what kind of threat?”

“Uh-huh.” Darcy hadn’t moved.

“This is progress,” Jordan insisted. “We now know Holt’s girlfriends didn’t do him in.”

“I don’t see how you can rule out Sally, though,” Bob argued. “Didn’t Holt date her sister, the one who committed suicide? That’s a hell of a motive.”

“Have you been able to determine if she has an alibi?” Jordan asked Darcy.

“No. Not unless we can nail down when she was on email that evening. We had to subpoena her Internet service provider, who declined to be nice and hand over her usage records. Subpoenas take time.”

“Well regardless, you should be thrilled to narrow the field of potential suspects,” Jordan said to Darcy. “What’s your problem?”

She opened her eyes to glare at Jordan. “Well, gee. I’ve got a ghost for the only witness to a murder. That means I have no proof that will stand up in court, and no real evidence so far. And we haven’t narrowed the field of suspects, we’ve eliminated most of them.”

“What about Crazy Clive?” Tom asked.

“He has an alibi,” Jordan replied, then looked at Darcy. “Unless you haven’t been able to verify it?”

“I’m still trying to get hold of some of the guests at the winetasting.” Darcy straightened on a sigh. “Even if you could get Garrett the Ghost to tell us who shot Holt, we’d have to figure out a way to trap the killer into confessing. Which usually gives the defense lawyer the chance to scream entrapment when the case comes to trial.”

“Garrett won’t talk,” Jordan said with certainty. She paused, thinking back over their conversation. “I’m convinced he was lying about something, as well. I just can’t figure out what.”

“Don’t even think about getting close enough to him to ask,” Jase growled, approaching with a loaded tray.

“I won’t,” Jordan hurriedly agreed. “Though as I pointed out, I don’t control the movements of the ghosts.”

“You can at least make an effort to avoid those locations where you think you might run into him,” Jase insisted.