Canyons of Night

Chapter 12

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?”

“No,” Slade said. “As far as I can see Rex doesn’t pay a lot of attention to the rules.”

“Well, in that case, I believe I’ve got some leftover zucchini bread in the back room.”

“Rex will be thrilled,” Slade said.

“I’ll go get it.”

He disappeared into the back room.

Fletcher Kane studied Rex. “What’s he got in his paw? Looks like an old evening bag.”

“Rex purloined it from Looking Glass.”

“Purloined? Would that be professional cop jargon for ‘ripped off’?”

“It would,” Slade said. “Charlotte tells me the damn purse is worth a few hundred bucks.”

“Don’t even think about trying to slip that into departmental expenses,” Fletcher warned. “As mayor, I assure you I would spot it immediately.”

“I’ll try to hide it under office supplies.”

“Forget it,” Fletcher said. “How goes the investigation?”

“The investigation is ongoing, as we in the police business like to say,” Slade said. “But for now it looks like a guy who was stalking Charlotte dropped dead in her back room.”

“Convenient,” Fletcher observed.

“Yes,” Slade said. “Very.”

Fletcher looked knowing. “You’re not buying it are you?”

“Not for a minute,” Slade said. “My department is aware that we are conducting a murder investigation and so is Charlotte. I’m keeping you in the loop because you’re the mayor. I realize that means that Jasper is also in the loop.”

“A goodly number of people.”

“Yes.”

“You know what they say—if two or more people know a secret it is no longer a secret.”

“I’m going to have to take that chance for now.”

Jasper emerged from the back room with a large slice of zucchini bread on a plate. He set the plate on the counter. Rex watched each move with close attention.

“Help yourself, Wonder Bunny,” Jasper said.

Rex chortled with glee and hopped down onto the counter. He put his purse aside and attacked the zucchini bread with gusto.

“That zucchini bread looks vaguely familiar,” Slade said. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess that it was made by Thelma Duncan.”

“Good guess,” Jasper said. “It’s not that it isn’t great zucchini bread. It’s more a case of, who really likes zucchini bread?”

“Rex, evidently,” Fletcher said.

They all watched Rex polish off the bread.

“It’s amazing,” Slade said. “He’s been eating zucchini bread every day since we hit the island last week and he never gets tired of it.”

“Lucky Rex,” Fletcher said. “We had our fill about forty-eight hours into zucchini season. Don’t tell Thelma but we started composting the stuff.”

Jasper lounged against the counter. “So what really happened in the back room of Looking Glass, Chief?”

“Death by paranormal means,” Slade said.

Fletcher and Jasper exchanged an unreadable look.

Fletcher turned back to Slade. “That’s not good. Ghost-hunter work? Some hunters can pull a lot of ghost light aboveground.”

“No, I’ve seen people who were killed with ghost fire. This is different.”

“Got any theories?” Jasper asked.

Slade gave them what he had. Both men absorbed the information in a thoughtful silence.

“Black-market antiquities,” Jasper said. “Interesting. I always figured there was nothing but junk in Looking Glass.”

“Gaines may have been after some relic that was shipped from Charlotte’s Frequency City shop,” Slade said. “She handled some high-end objects. I stopped here today to ask a favor.”

“Certainly,” Fletcher said. “What can we do for you?”

“Willis and Myrna are good but they’ve had zero experience in the illegal antiquities trade. Can’t say I’ve had a lot, myself. It wasn’t my specialty when I was an agent. But I figure you two probably know as much if not more about the business than most people do. It would be helpful if you could give me some background.”

Jasper looked intrigued. “You think we’re experts because we’re in the art world?”

“That and the fact that you are both Guild men. A lot of smuggling goes on in the Underworld. The Guilds handle protection for every corporation and research lab working the ruins underground. That means you know smuggling and you know antiquities.”

Fletcher and Jasper looked at each other again, once more exchanging a silent message. Then they turned back to Slade.

“Out of sheer curiosity, how the hell did you figure out that we were both Guild men?” Fletcher asked.

“I’ve worked with some ghost hunters,” Slade said. “There’s a look.”

Jasper elevated one bushy brow. “FBPI intuition?”

“Well, that and the fact that I ran you both through the Bureau’s files.”

Fletcher grimaced. “Should have seen that coming.”

“Guess it’s what we get for asking Adam Winters to recommend a candidate for the police chief position here on Rainshadow,” Jasper said.