Canyons of Night

Chapter 7

SLADE CROUCHED BESIDE THE BODY, PULLED ON THE plastic gloves that Myrna had magically produced from the back of a cupboard beneath the copying machine, and cautiously opened his senses. The haze of violent death shivered in the atmosphere. He didn’t have to go any hotter to know murder when he saw it.

“Who was he and what was he doing here in your shop?” he said to Charlotte.

“His name was Jeremy Gaines,” Charlotte said. She stood some distance away from the body, arms tightly folded beneath her breasts. “He was a former client of mine. I haven’t seen him since I left Frequency. I have no idea what he was doing here. I didn’t even know that he was on the island.”

Slade pulled a ticket receipt out of one of the dead man’s pockets. “Looks like he arrived on the last ferry yesterday evening.”

“I had closed up and gone home by then.”

“Later you walked over to my place.”

“Yes.” She fell silent.

He knew that she was remembering that he had left her at her door around eleven thirty. She had no alibi for the remainder of the night. He studied her for a moment.

“You look pale,” he said. “Are you okay?”

Her mouth tightened resolutely. “I’m fine. Had a bit of a panic attack when I found the body but I’m okay now.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” She raised her chin. “Don’t worry, I have pills if I need them.”

She did not want to talk about the panic attack, he realized. Fair enough, he didn’t like talking about his senses-related problem, either.

“Was Gaines a talent?” he asked.

“Yes,” Charlotte said. “He is also a member of the Arcane Society, for what it’s worth.”

“Like you.”

“Back in Frequency I catered primarily to collectors who are Arcane.”

“How long was he a client?”

“Not long.” She stopped.

“Might as well tell me the rest,” Slade said. “I’m going to find out eventually.”

She grimaced. “Jeremy was a client. He was very knowledgeable about antiques and antiquities. And he had money. I found a couple of nice Post–Era of Discord items for him. Then he asked me to locate a certain piece of late Nineteenth-Century Old World glassware for him. A snow globe.”

“Go on.”

“Old World antiquities are not my area of expertise. That is a far more rarified market. Most of the good pieces are in museums. But it was an interesting challenge so I agreed to see what I could do. Eventually I traced rumors of an Old World snow globe to the private collection of a woman named Evelyn Lambert. Mrs. Lambert was amazed that I had been able to track it down to her collection. But she declined to sell. I told Jeremy that she was not interested.”

“What happened?”

“Jeremy got angry when I informed him that the collector who owned the snow globe did not want to sell. In fact, he was furious.”

“Did you give him Mrs. Lambert’s name?”

“Certainly not.” Charlotte was indignant. “I always respect and protect the privacy of my clients. A lot of collectors are very secretive. Mrs. Lambert was one of those.”

“What happened after that?”

“Mrs. Lambert was so impressed with my expertise she wanted to talk to me about her plans to give her collection to one of the Arcane museums. I told her who to call to make the arrangements. We got to be friends. She was in her eighties and she lived alone. Her house was filled with the most incredible collection of glass antiques. She knew everything there was to know about glass, not just Colonial antiques but Old World antiquities, as well. I had tea with her almost every Thursday afternoon for two months until she died. I learned a great deal from her.”

“When did she die?”

“Several months ago. She left most of her glass to the Arcane Museum in Frequency but she was kind enough to leave a few very nice pieces to me.”

“What happened to Jeremy Gaines?”

Charlotte’s jaw tightened. Her eyes narrowed a little at the corners. “This is where it gets messy.”

“Talk to me.”

“I thought Jeremy had disappeared for good. I didn’t see him for months after he flew into that rage in my shop. But he showed up one afternoon shortly before I moved here to the island. He turned on the charm. Jeremy had a lot of that. My mother said it was probably an aspect of his talent.”

“Any idea what kind of talent he was?”

“I never asked. I didn’t want to get too personal. But I assume he had a strong psychic sensitivity for old paranormal objects since he was such an avid collector.”

“Ever see his collection?”

She made a face. “You know, you sound just like a cop.”

He looked at her.

She cleared her throat. “Right. The answer is no. He never offered to show it to me. I never asked to view it.”

“What did he want when he reappeared in your life?”

“He said he’d been thinking about me and he wanted to get to know me in a personal way. He said we had so much in common. He apologized for losing his temper the last time I had seen him and he asked me out on a date.”

“What did you do?”

“I declined. I had seen his aura rainbow the day he lost his temper. I didn’t like what I saw.” She shuddered. “Not that I needed to view his rainbow after that display of rage. That would have been enough to put off any sensible woman.”

“Anger-management issues?”

“Definitely. But in addition there was something else that I didn’t like. I’ve seen it before a few times. The ultralight in Jeremy’s rainbow was very similar to the bands of colors I’ve seen in the rainbows of the few true sociopaths I’ve had the misfortune to meet from time to time.”

The hair lifted on the nape of his neck. “You can see that kind of thing in a rainbow?”

“Yes, but only when someone is really jacked up. Unfortunately, I can’t detect the bad stuff in someone who is just walking down the street. Rainbows are linked to auras. They’re generated by strong emotions or strong talents. Or both. That’s why I didn’t . . .”

She stopped abruptly but she did not need to finish the sentence, he thought. They both knew what she had been about to say. She hadn’t perceived the true colors of his aura rainbow last night until things had gotten hot and heavy between them.

“I think I’m starting to understand why you didn’t have a lot of luck with your Arcanematch dates,” he said neutrally.

She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes it’s better not to know too much about a person.”

“You may have a point there.”

On the other hand, her talent was evidently what had kept her single all these years, he thought. It had kept her free until he could get back to her. But now he was the one who was facing a psychic prison sentence that would not allow him to be with her for long.

“Did you ever see Gaines again?” he asked.

“Yes. He seemed to become obsessed with trying to convince me to give him another chance. There were phone calls. He sent flowers. He discovered my address and showed up on my doorstep one evening with a bottle of champagne. He stopped by my shop the next day, apologized again and asked me out to coffee.”

“Stalker?”

She hesitated. “Well, my family worried that he was becoming one but I honestly don’t think that was the case.”

“Sure sounds like a stalker scenario.”

“Maybe.” But she was clearly not convinced. “In any event, after a week or ten days he gave up and went away. I truly believe that he just wanted me to take him back as a client. Jeremy being Jeremy, he assumed charm would do the trick.”

“Why was he so determined to become your client again? There must be a lot of good antiques dealers around.”

Charlotte’s brows rose. “Not a lot who have the feel for para-antiques that I possess. I told you, I’m very, very good at what I do. I have a certain reputation in the field. Jeremy knew that. It’s why he sought me out in the first place. He was a very serious collector. He wanted only the best.”

“And you’re the best?”

“I’m certainly one of the best. But that means that I can afford to be choosy when it comes to my clients.”

Slade contemplated Gaines’s expensive black turtleneck sweater, black trousers, and black running shoes. “Looks like he came dressed for a night of breaking-and-entering and dropped dead on the job.”

“Jeremy had no need to steal anything. He could have afforded to buy whatever he wanted.”

“But you refused to do business with him.”

“True, but there were ways around that. Gaines could have used another dealer as an intermediary. I probably wouldn’t have found out. Dealers work together all the time without revealing the names of their clients.”

“It wasn’t my area of expertise when I worked for the Office, but I’ve heard that the world of collectors who specialize in the paranormal is a very gray market that often slides all the way into the black market.”

“Collectors do tend to be reclusive, eccentric, and secretive,” she admitted. “Dealers who don’t respect that don’t last long in the business.”

Slade studied the body. “Gaines died here, inside your shop, sometime during the night. If he wasn’t stalking you, he must have been after something that he thought you had but which you wouldn’t sell to him if he came through the front door.”

“I honestly can’t imagine what he would have wanted that badly from my collection. He went for the more exotic objects.”

“But if he did want something from your collection, why didn’t he use another dealer to get it for him?”

“Exactly. It makes no sense.” She looked at the body. “This doesn’t look good for me, does it? I mean, what are the odds that one of my ex-clients who just happens to be wearing a lot of black breaks into my shop and drops dead from a heart attack?”

“Not good but fortunately for you, that’s exactly what it looks like, a heart attack or stroke. Got a feeling that’s what the medical examiner over in Thursday Harbor will call it.”

“But you don’t buy it, do you?”

“No,” he said. He got to his feet. “This was death by paranormal means.”

She looked shocked. “Are you telling me that someone actually used talent to murder Jeremy?”

“Talent or a device that generates lethal paranormal energy.”

Shock turned to bewilderment in her eyes. “What kind of weapon can generate that kind of radiation?”

“Certain crystals can be alchemically altered to become weapons-grade. But there are also some very high-level talents who can kill with their own natural power.”

She shuddered. “I’ve heard a few horror stories over the years. Everyone in Arcane has. But I thought the ability to kill with psychic energy was just another Arcane legend.”

“It’s extremely rare. Takes a hell of a lot of power and only certain kinds of talent can be focused in a lethal way. Since it invariably looks like the victim died from natural causes, the murder usually goes undetected.”

“You sound like an expert on the subject.”

“Detecting murder by paranormal means is what I do, Charlotte, remember? Or, rather, what I did when I worked for the Office.”

“Right. Sorry. I’m getting a little frazzled here. I can’t help but point out that if Jeremy was murdered, I’m the obvious suspect. He and I had a history and I don’t have an alibi for half of last night.”

“True, but what you do have is a talent for reading rainbows. Not exactly the kind of ability that your average rogue psychic uses to commit murder.”

She brightened. “And I certainly don’t possess any of those crystal guns you mentioned.”

He opened his senses a little higher and studied the darkly radiant pools of energy on the floor. “Someone does.”

“You’re sure?”

“Down in the tunnels it’s possible for a very powerful ghost hunter to commit murder from a distance by generating certain types of ghost light. But aboveground the killers who are strong enough to kill with their natural energy almost always have to have physical contact with the victim. Whoever killed Gaines did it from a distance of several feet.”

“You can tell that, as well?”

“Yes,” he said.

“What happens now?”

“Standard procedure. I’ll notify the authorities in Thursday Harbor and try to get in touch with Gaines’s family.”

“Are you going to tell them that you think Jeremy was murdered by paranormal means?”

“No. Like I said, the ME will call it death by natural causes.”

“Hang on. I admit, I was not a fan of Jeremy Gaines. Still, it doesn’t seem right to just ignore his murder. There’s a killer running around. For all we know he might still be on the island.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to investigate. I just said that it’s unlikely that I’ll find any usable evidence. It doesn’t mean I won’t find the killer.”

“But if you can’t arrest him, what will you do if you identify a suspect?”

“It depends.”

“It depends?” She unfolded her arms and waved her hands. “What kind of cop talk is that? There are rules about this sort of thing. At least there are supposed to be rules.”

“When it comes to crimes committed by paranormal means, the rules are a little vague.”

She gave him a speculative look. “In other words, if you decide that I murdered Jeremy, a lawyer wouldn’t do me much good.”

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think you killed him,” he said.

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open. It took her a second to get it closed.

“Good,” she said finally. “Great. I mean, that is a huge relief.”

“But if you did kill him, you probably had a real good reason.”

“Thanks. That’s supposed to reassure me?”

“It’s the best I can do at the moment.”

“And to think that I was worried about the two of us feeling a bit awkward the morning after.”