Jayne Castle - Canyons of Night

There was another pause.

“Yes, sir. Getting back to Jeremy Gaines, I did some research on him this morning. Looks like he probably had more than a few enemies. I have reason to believe that he was in the business of peddling stolen antiquities.”

Charlotte blinked. “Jeremy was in the black market?”

“Yes, sir, I’ll keep you informed,” Slade said into the phone. “Now you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve got work to do here.”

He ended the connection and handed the phone back to Charlotte. “Your father is calling my contact at the Bureau as we speak to make sure that I’m actually qualified to keep an eye on you.”

“Sorry about that,” she said ruefully. “My family has always been a little overprotective of me. You know how it is when you’re the youngest and the only girl.”

“No,” Slade said evenly. “I don’t know how it is to be the youngest and the only girl.”

She flushed. “Sorry. I guess you don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it. It’s not just that I’m the only girl in the family, it’s the panic attack thing and the fact that it’s linked to my talent. Everyone has the impression that I’m delicate. Never mind, tell me what you discovered about Jeremy. Was he really dealing stolen goods?”

“Looks like it. I did some rough research using the Bureau’s files. I haven’t had time to check out the details but from what I could determine Gaines moved in murky circles. I don’t think he was actually a collector, just a broker.”

“That explains why he never offered to show me his private collection. He probably didn’t have one.”

“It gets more interesting. He wasn’t just dealing stolen antiquities. There are strong indications that he specialized in the really dangerous stuff.”

She frowned. “What do you mean by dangerous?”

“Weapons-grade para-antiques and antiquities. Objects that are powerful enough to kill.”

“Oh, man. I know there’s a market for that kind of thing but I’ve never gone anywhere near it. I told you, he came to me looking for an Old World snow globe, a pretty toy, not some kind of para-weapon.”

“And you did locate the snow globe.”

“Yes. But as I said, I never gave him Mrs. Lambert’s name.”

“Doesn’t mean he wasn’t able to find out her identity. If I’m right about Gaines, he was a pro. He survived for quite a while in a very dangerous business. All he had to do was follow you around or bug your phone calls or download data from your computer in order to discover Lambert’s identity.”

She chilled. “Do you really think I led him to her? I have always tried to maintain good security for my clients.”

“If Gaines was working the para-weapons market, he would have had the skills and the talent to break through any security system you bought off the shelf.”

Charlotte felt utterly stricken. “If he managed to find Mrs. Lambert through me, then maybe her death wasn’t from natural causes. Maybe he killed her. Maybe I’m responsible.”

“Take it easy.” Slade frowned. “You’re starting to hyperventilate. Breathe.”

“Right.” She forced herself to go into the breathing ritual. “Damn, I hate this.”

“You’re not responsible for Mrs. Lambert’s death. I checked that angle out, too. She died in the hospital of natural causes. She was there for several days. Her family was at her bedside.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Where does that leave us?”

“You said Lambert gave the bulk of her collection to one of the Arcane Society museums before she died?”

“Yes, the Frequency City branch. The museum got everything except for the few pieces that she bequeathed to me in her will.”

“Where are those objects?”

“Here.” Charlotte waved a hand toward the crowded back room. “In some of those crates that Jeremy pried open. But there was an inventory with the bequest and I can assure you that there was no Old World snow globe listed. Believe me, anything that valuable would have gone to the museum.”

“I checked,” Slade said. “The museum staff is still unpacking and cataloging the glassware they received from Lambert but they’ve got a detailed inventory. Someone is going through it now to see if there is an Old World snow globe on the list. I should have an answer tomorrow.”

She was impressed. “You did all of that research today?”

“It helps to have Bureau connections.”

“Sounds like it.”

Slade surveyed the shop. “Gaines thought there was something here that was of value to him, presumably that snow globe. He broke in to search for it. Someone else followed him here to kill him. Whoever it was must have been after the globe, too. The question is, did the killer find it?”

“If he did, it would have been by pure chance. The objects that Mrs. Lambert left me were packed in with a lot of other glassware from my shop.” She paused. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“All of the glassware I deal in is psi-infused.”

“Para-antiques are your specialty,” Slade said. “What about it?”

“I’m sure you’re aware that glass is tricky in general because it doesn’t conform to the standard laws of para-physics.”

“Something about it having the properties of both a solid and a liquid.”

“Right. And glass infused with paranormal energy is downright unpredictable. What’s more, a lot of psi-glass packed together in a crate would produce a tremendous amount of interference. Even a talent with a strong affinity for glass, like a glasslight reader, for instance, wouldn’t be able to identify the radiation given off by a particular item if it was surrounded by a lot of other hot objects.” Charlotte looked around at the crowded shop. “And the problem would increase exponentially if there was a lot of other energy in the vicinity.”

“Which would definitely be the case in here,” Slade concluded.

“So, it’s just barely possible that the killer found what he was looking for that night but the odds are against it.”

“Which means that he may come back to take another look,” Slade said.

Charlotte pursed her lips, thinking. “Seems like it would be a lot easier to just pop into the shop posing as a collector of old snow globes.”

“Good point,” Slade said. “Let me know if that happens.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be the first to know. I have to say, it has occurred to me that there’s an upside to this situation.”

“That would be?”

“You indicated that you were bored with your job here on Rainshadow. Now, at least, you have something to keep you occupied.”

The edge of his mouth kicked up a little at one corner. “I’ll try to remember to think positive. I’ve advised Willis and Myrna that we’ve got a murder case on our hands but I’ve ordered them not to talk about it to anyone. Meanwhile, we’re going to let the stalker-who-dropped-dead-from-a-heart-attack scenario stand as the official explanation of this situation.”

“Why?”

“Because, with luck, the killer will conclude that there is no active investigation and that you are not a threat to him.”

She took a sharp little breath. “Do you really think that whoever killed Gaines might come after me?”

“I think you’ll be safe as long as you and the local police appear to be satisfied that Gaines was a stalker.”

“You are the local police.”

Slade gave her his hunter’s smile.

“Yes,” he said. “I am.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

“What I just promised your father I would do. Keep an eye on you.”

THE FOLLOWING MORNING SLADE OPENED THE DOOR of the Kane Gallery and moved inside. Rex rode on his shoulder.

Fletcher Kane, the proprietor of the gallery, stood at a table with Jasper Gilbert, the artist whose work hung in the Kane Gallery. They were examining a canvas on the table. The men looked up when Slade entered.

“Good afternoon, Chief,” Fletcher said in his urbane, cultured tones. “Hope you aren’t too put off by recent events here in Shadow Bay. I can guarantee you that dead bodies don’t routinely turn up in our fair town.”

“That’s what people keep telling me,” Slade said. “Thought I’d bring you up to date, Mr. Mayor.”

His senses were closed down but the paintings on the walls of the gallery still succeeded in stirring the hair on his nape. The images were fiercely luminous scenes of the island. What set them apart from the works of other local painters was the surreal, otherworldly quality. The greens were psi green, the kind of green that was found only in the ruins and the Underworld. The reds and yellows were so hot it was a wonder that they did not set fire to the canvas. Whether by intention or artistic intuition, Gilbert succeeded in capturing the nexus energy of the island, Slade thought.

Fletcher Kane was currently serving as Shadow Bay’s part-time mayor. He looked very much the way one expected the owner of a modestly successful gallery to look. With his lean frame, silver hair, and patrician features he exuded a refined elegance. Amber and gold rings gleamed on his long, tapered fingers. You had to look hard to see the dangerous edge beneath the surface.

Jasper Gilbert, on the other hand, possessed just the right degree of scruffy eccentricity that one expected from an artist. He was big and bearded. His sweatshirt and baggy pants were stained with ancient and new paint splatters.

Both men were in their early seventies. According to the background research Slade had gathered on them, they had lived on the island for nearly three decades.

Jasper eyed Rex. “Does the rule against bribing an officer of the law extend to said officer’s dust bunny?”