Nightwalker (Harrison Investigation #8)

Nightwalker (Harrison Investigation #8) Page 30

Darkness. Dillon felt inexplicably uneasy that night was coming quickly. Night—and darkness. He felt a stirring in his mind, an elusive idea that teased and then disappeared. Was something Ringo had just said a clue of some kind? If so, the word elusive was dead-on. Dillon couldn’t shake the sudden feeling that he needed to get back to town. He dismissed the idea that he had nearly been onto something. After all, he’d already known what happened here; it was clan lore.

“I’ll come back out here and explore again another day,” Dillon said suddenly.

Darkness.

The idea haunted him.

It was time to be getting back. Jessy had finished work hours ago now, and even though she’d sworn she wouldn’t go anywhere alone, that she would call her friend Sandra to pick her up, Dillon didn’t want her out in the dark without him to take care of her.

He left the saloon, and Ringo rose at last and took a last long look around the place before following him out.

At the car, Ringo paused before getting in.

“What?” Dillon asked.

“That’s the old cemetery over there. Can’t see much anymore. Looks like the crosses are all broken or long gone. But you can see some of the stones ringing the graves. They carried me over there. Took a look at me and said, ‘That bastard’s dead, just dump in him the ground.’ No, that’s not fair. Some preacher did say a few words over me.”

“We’ll bring flowers and set up a cross next time we come,” Dillon assured him.

“Whatever. I think my pa was half-Jewish.”

“We’ll get a star of David and a cross, how’s that?” Dillon said.

“I like it. And you can add whatever mumbo jumbo your people do, too, huh?”

“You got it,” Dillon assured him. “Now get in the damn car, will you? It’s an hour’s drive back.”

“So you admit you like him?” Sandra teased, speaking up to be heard over the crowd in the restaurant. “I think that’s great. Now tell me all the details. Well, no, not all the details, but…a few of them, okay? Is he as fantastic as he looks? You know, sometimes the pretty boys aren’t so hot in bed. I mean, they’re so accustomed to being adored that they think it’s all about them. They like the rabbit thing. Wham, wham, wham. I’m done, let’s light up a few cigarettes.”

“He’s not a pretty boy,” Jessy protested, laughing, happy to realize that the world seemed right again. Sandra always had that effect on her. The other woman was down to earth and funny, and even when she was serious, it was with a grain of irony. Life was what it was. Ups and downs, the good and bad. Sandra had perspective, and it was one of the things Jessy treasured about her.

In fact, the minute she had seen Sandra pull up in front of the casino, she had felt better.

Safe.

No longer so certain that a living stalker was following in her footsteps, that she might suddenly be whisked away, unnoticed. That she might disappear, with no one to tell her story.

Now Sandra leaned across the table and said, “Okay, no pressing on the sexual details. As long as he was good. I mean, if you’re only going to break down and have one affair a decade, it at least ought to be hot.”

“Sandra!”

“Okay, okay. So tell me about the ghost-busting thing,” Sandra said. “Does he find ghosts? And what does he do then? It’s not like he can call the cops and have them arrested. Tell me. I’m an inquiring mind, and I want to know.”

“Sandra, he didn’t go into details with me. It’s not like he’s allowed to talk about his cases.” She hated lying to Sandra, but she just wasn’t sure if she was ready to spit out the fact that, yes, there really were ghosts, and in fact she was being followed by one, and Dillon Wolf was trying to help her.

“I’ll bet he could tell some amazing stories,” Sandra told her. “I would love, just love, to hear a few of them.”

“As soon as he tells me some, I’ll share,” Jessy promised.

“Do we actually have a waitress here, or what?” Sandra frowned. “I’m in the mood for a margarita.” She looked around, trying and failing to catch a waitress’s eye, then said, “I’ll be back. Looks like I need to go to the bar if I’m thirsty. Salt or no salt?”

“I’m not sure I should—”

“Humor me. Salt or no salt?” Sandra asked.

“Hell, might as well go all the way. Salt,” Jessy told her.

As Sandra walked through a growing crowd to the bar, Jessy drummed her fingers on the table and looked around. She could see out to the street, where nothing suspicious seemed to be going on, so she took a minute to look around the restaurant. The place was open and airy, but busy, its reasonably priced food and proximity to several major casinos making it popular. It had to be one of the safest places in the world to be.

Not too many people were sitting at tables this early, though, she realized. Most people seemed to come in and just mill around. She saw Sandra hand a bartender her credit card, then turned back to study the room at large again.

And there they were.

Tanner Green.

And, beyond him, Rudy Yorba.

It felt as if her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t afraid. Tanner Green was seated at a little round-topped table just a few feet away. Rudy Yorba was two tables behind Green. Both of them were just watching her. She wasn’t sure that Green even knew Rudy was there, because the smaller man seemed to be trying not to be noticed.

This was crazy, she thought. Did one ghost automatically see another? Did some ghosts hide from other ghosts? Dillon seemed to think that Tanner Green hadn’t accepted the fact that he was dead. What about Rudy Yorba?

She glanced quickly back to the bar. Sandra looked back, smiled and waved, then turned to watch the bartender mix their drinks.

Jessy rummaged in her purse, and found her address book and a pen. She pretended to accidentally drop the pen. She wasn’t a coward by nature, and it was time to be proactive. She pretended to reach for her dropped pen but instead kicked it closer to Tanner Green’s table, then stood and walked to where he was sitting.

How the hell did she talk to a ghost without appearing to be stone-cold crazy?

She ducked down and picked up the pen, speaking softly and swiftly as she did so.

“I want to help you,” she said. “I need to know what you know. And, by the way, there’s a young man sitting just beyond you who apparently knows something or needs something, too. I’d really like to help you both.”

“Jessy, is everything all right?”

The voice startled her so badly that she almost slammed her head into the underside of the table as she stood.

Tanner Green was gone, and once again, Rudy Yorba had apparently followed him.

The man standing above her was real. She knew him casually because she’d chatted to him around both the Sun and at the Big Easy, where they’d sat and talked once after her show.

His name was Darrell Frye, and he was a pit boss at the Sun. In fact, he’d been running the craps table the night she’d made her money, though he’d been spelled by another man before Tanner Green had come in.

He was ambitious, she knew. He might be a pit boss now, but wanted to move up to entertainment manager at the Sun. He had told her as much when he had come to see the pirate show. It had been flattering when he told her that people from the Sun had seen her work, and he’d heard them talking about the idea of her moving over to one of their shows. He’d admitted that if he was the one who brought her over, it would help his own career.

“Darrell, hi,” she said, rising. “I just dropped my pen, that’s all. How are you?”

“Good, thanks, and yourself?”

“Fine.”

He was tall, six feet or even six-one, the kind of man who wore a suit well and was attractive without being drop-dead gorgeous. In fact, with sandy hair and eyes the same color, he wasn’t the kind of man you really remembered. He had always been nice to her, and honest, so she didn’t really mind that he had hoped to lure her over to the Sun at least as much for his own benefit as hers.

“You sure?” he asked her, concerned. “I heard that guy died right on top of you the other night.”

“Yes, he did, but I’m okay now.”

“It must have been horrible.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want it to be my usual evening, no.”

“Are the police bugging you about it?”

She shook her head. “No one is bugging me. I didn’t know the man. He walked in and fell on me, and that was that.”

“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. It’s been a shitty few days. First, Tanner Green. Then Rudy Yorba. He was a really nice guy. I hope you won’t hold it against the Sun.”

“I won’t and I don’t,” Jessy assured him.

“So you might still consider coming over to the Sun? I bet they’d let you help develop a project from the ground up,” Darrell told her.

“Thanks, I really appreciate the offer.”

“Margarita?” Sandra interrupted. She had two glasses and was standing next to Jessy like a guardian Amazon, tall, beautiful and obviously ready to go to war if Jessy was being harassed in any way.

“Thanks,” Jessy said, taking her drink from Sandra. “Sandra, I’d like you to meet Darrell Frye. Darrell, my very good friend Sandra Nelson.”

“How do you do?” Darrell said formally, smiling and offering his hand with obvious appreciation.

Only a blind man wouldn’t appreciate Sandra’s appearance, Jessy thought.

“I’m fine, thanks, nice to meet you,” Sandra said.

“Darrell is a pit boss over at the Sun,” Jessy explained.

“Oh,” Sandra said. “It must be tough there right now.”

Darrell shrugged. “I began my vacation the day after Tanner Green died, so I haven’t had to deal with any of it. They’ve asked me to come back in, though—they’re extra busy. Seems people are intrigued by everything that’s happened. Sick, huh? Anyway, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, Sandra. And, Jessy, please remember me if you ever want a change of scenery.”