Ghost of a Chance

“This is the home of David and Anne Watson,” Callahan said at last. “Earlier tonight, Anne called the police because her husband had locked himself in his study and wouldn’t answer her when she went to get him for dinner. When the responding officers got here, Anne had crawled through the vent duct from an adjoining room and found David dead.”

“Let me guess,” Alex said. “Two stab wounds to the chest?”

Callahan looked surprised and then a mask of disgust covered his face. “Does everybody read that rag?” he muttered. “Don’t tell me you believe it was a ghost?”

Alex laughed at that.

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” he said. “Everyone knows that ghosts strangle their victims.”

Callahan blinked as if he didn’t know whether or not to believe Alex, then Alex smiled.

“Funny,” he said without any trace of humor in his voice. “The guys who caught this case think it’s a copycat,” he went on. “They think the wife killed her husband and tried to pass it off as the ghost.”

“Any servants?” Alex asked, his mind shifting into gear.

“Just a maid,” Callahan said, “but she had the night off.” He puffed on his cigarette.

“Can I have one of those?” Alex asked.

The lieutenant rolled his eyes and held out his pack so Alex could extract one.

“You need a real job, Lockerby,” he said, flipping open his lighter. “I know you could pass the detective exam in your sleep; why don’t you come work for me?”

Alex lit his cigarette and sat back. He was about to say something sarcastic, but he stopped himself. Callahan hated private dicks and he didn’t much care for Alex personally, but the fact that he’d offered Alex a job was a sign of his respect for Alex’s skills.

It was flattering, and Alex resisted the urge to make a smart remark. He owed Callahan that.

“You wouldn’t want me working for you, Callahan,” he said at last. “I break too many rules. Besides, the official policy of the department is that magic doesn’t have any practical application in law enforcement.”

“We both know that’s crap,” Callahan said.

Alex nodded at that and took another drag on his cigarette. He’d been economizing so long that two in one day felt like luxury.

“So the wife was alone in the house,” Alex said, getting back to the murder. “Why do you think she killed her husband?”

“Not me,” Callahan said with a sour look. “It’s not my case. Third division caught it.”

Alex had never been too clear about how the police department allocated their resources. He knew that all the detectives for Manhattan worked out of the Central Office of Police near the park, but there were six different divisions. Callahan was the lieutenant over division five.

“It’s not your case,” Alex said, a light finally going off in his head. “That’s why we’re sitting here in your car instead of going inside.”

Callahan grimaced and nodded.

“But you think the wife is innocent and that’s why I’m here,” Ales went on. “So is she an old girlfriend or something?”

The lieutenant’s gaze narrowed.

“Current girlfriend?” Alex pressed with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re right,” Callahan said. “I wouldn’t like you working for me. I don’t know Mrs. Watson at all.”

“Then why do you care?”

“Listen, Lockerby,” Callahan said, jabbing his finger at Alex and sending ash flying from his cigarette. “Someone is killing people. This makes four and we’ve got nothing to go on. Nothing. That’s why you’re here. Maybe you can find something we missed. Maybe whoever is doing this is using magic to kill these people. Either way, that’s why we need you.”

Alex nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed. He tended to have the same opinion of cops that they had of him and he regularly forgot that some of them were just as driven and dedicated as he was.

“So the wife is my in,” Alex said. “Has she been arrested yet?”

“I don’t think so,” Callahan said, tossing the stub of his cigarette out the window. “They were still questioning her when I left to get you.”

As if on cue, someone stepped up to Alex’s side of the car.

“One of my boys said they saw you parked out here, Callahan,” the newcomer said. He was short and stocky with thinning hair and a crooked nose. “What are you doing back?”

“You still think the wife did this?” Callahan said, without answering the question.

“You bet,” the man said. “She obviously read that article in the Sun and used it as cover to kill her husband.”

“Why do you say that?” Alex asked.

The man turned his gaze to Alex. He had a round face and a crooked smile to match his nose. He wasn’t large, but he had an imposing sort of air about him.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said.

“Lieutenant Detweiler,” Callahan said. “This is Alex Lockerby. Alex, Lieutenant James Detweiler, Third Division.”

“I’ve seen you around the Central Office,” Detweiler said. “You’re a friend of Callahan’s boy, Danny.”

Alex nodded.

“You’ve got a good eye, Lieutenant. So, what makes you think the wife did it?”

Detweiler clearly wasn’t used to being put on the spot. He held Alex’s gaze for a long moment as if considering whether or not he could safely reveal his thought processes.