Ghost of a Chance

Her eyes darted up to meet his. They looked soft and grateful, then they darted away again. Montgomery opened his mouth to retort.

“And,” Alex cut him off. “There wouldn’t be anything for that hack to print if it wasn’t for my work. I made the connection between the victims. I found out who the ghost was likely to be after, and that reporter didn’t print any of that stuff until after I gave it to you.”

“That doesn’t prove anything,” Rooney growled.

“No,” Alex agreed. “It doesn’t, but if I wanted my name in the paper, I’d be down at the Sun right now telling them who the ghost really is and why he’s killing, instead of up here having my integrity impugned.”

Rooney looked like he might explode, but Montgomery’s expression hadn’t shifted one bit. He paused for a long moment, letting the silence in the room stretch out. Alex knew better than to speak now. He’d said his piece and baited the hook, the next person to speak would likely be the loser.

Montgomery smiled, and Alex realized that the Chief knew this game. Worse, he knew how to play.

“Lieutenant,” he said to Detweiler. “Do you have any detectives working for you who would stoop to talking to the press?”

Detweiler was grinning like a child who suddenly found himself in an unattended candy shop. Alex didn’t want to tell Chief Montgomery how to run his department, but Detweiler was giving away the game.

“Wait,” Mayor Banes said before the Lieutenant could speak. “You know who the ghost is?”

Alex nodded, looking the Mayor right in the eye.

“And I can prove that your wife is just an innocent bystander in all of this. The ghost isn’t after her at all.”

Nancy Banes gasped as if she’d suddenly been allowed to put down a heavy load and the Mayor put his arm protectively around her shoulders.

“I don’t think—” Rooney began.

“No one’s asking you to think, Patrick,” Mayor Banes said. “I for one want to hear what Mr. Lockerby has to say.”

Montgomery raised an eyebrow, then gave an almost imperceptible nod, acknowledging the point, but most definitely not the game.

“I guess you’d better tell us what you think you know, Mr. Lockerby,” he said, returning to his seat behind the desk.

Alex took out his notebook and tore out a page, dropping it onto Montgomery’s desk.

“The ghost is a man named Duane King,” he explained as Montgomery picked up the paper. “He’s killing people who were once owners of a company called North Shore Development. Seth Kowalski and ten of his employees at the Suffolk County Assessor’s office formed the company so they could buy up land cheap, then sell it to rich people looking to build summer homes in the Hamptons.”

“Why do you think he’s the ghost?” Montgomery asked.

“Because,” Alex said. “King’s wife had tuberculosis, and treatments for that are expensive. He sold his house to get the money to pay an alchemist in Florida, but his wife died anyway. Kowalski and the people involved in North Shore undervalued his property so they could buy it at a tax sale auction cheap. They cheated King out of tens of thousands of dollars, money that would have saved his wife.”

“Mr. Kowalski did that?” a fragile voice interjected. Nancy Banes looked directly at Alex but she didn’t look away this time.

“I was his secretary for a year when I got out of school,” she said. “I was never part of any land company.”

“I know,” Alex said. He leaned over Montgomery’s desk and pointed to a number written on the paper. “This is the file number for their articles of incorporation, and Lieutenant Detweiler can check it.”

“We believe you,” Montgomery said, though Alex suspected that was only for the Mayor’s benefit. Detweiler would be double-checking everything Alex said; he might be an ass, but he wasn’t stupid.

“What makes you think the ghost is actually Duane King?” Montgomery asked again. “If Kowalski and his friends cheated him, it’s a cinch they cheated others.”

“This is about King’s wife,” Alex explained. “Think about the murders. Two stab wounds to the chest, one through each lung. The victims would drown as their lungs filled up with their own blood.”

“The same way his wife would have died from tuberculosis,” Detweiler said.

“Very good, Lieutenant,” Alex said.

Rooney cleared his throat and all eyes turned to him.

“If King thought these people were responsible for his wife’s death, why did he wait so long to take revenge?”

“That’s a very good question,” Chief Montgomery said, turning to Alex.

Alex allowed himself to smile. Montgomery blanched a little when he saw it, but to his credit, he kept his poker face in place. He knew Alex was about to win their game.

“He was in prison for twenty of those years,” Alex said. He turned to Detweiler. “Ask me why?”

The Lieutenant sighed but played along.

“Why?”

“Because he murdered the doctor who had been treating his wife,” Alex explained. “She sold him a phony cure.”

Chief Montgomery raised his eyebrows, then nodded again, conceding the game.

“Where is Mr. King now?” he asked.