Scarecrow’s Dream (18 page)

Shane almost leapt off the sofa. “Who was this other person?”

“I don’t know. I wish now I’d asked. I was in the middle of my own project and it was one of those days when everything was in crisis mode.” Brian’s expression mirrored his frustration and anger. “Damn. This has me reeling. Could this really have something to do with what happened to you? Or Mom’s accident? It can’t all be coincidence.”

“I hate to say it, but yes, it’s possible. Is there anything else you can remember about what she said?”

“Not much. I told her I’d be glad to do the casting if all went well and she was able to get whatever was left of the script
and
find someone to complete it or give me some info on the characters. I asked her the title. After telling me the subject matter was pretty explosive she said the play was called
Trapped in the Basement
.”

I knew it was coming, yet when I heard the title it seemed to seal a final confirmation. Crimson had died so a killer could continue to enjoy the life he’d had for the last forty-three years.

Chapter Twenty-One

Shane and Brian continued to discuss the horrific possibility that Crimson Cloverly had been murdered. Had the killer been devious enough to provide chocolate-only goodies at tea, then persuade her to take a couple “for the road”, substituting them with several laced with peanuts?

It wasn’t the surest way to commit murder, but then, neither was shooting the tires out of a motorcycle. If it worked, great. If not? The killer doubtless had more than one back-up plan.

Shane told Brian to tell the police everything about their conversation. “They could check her cell phone, or a notebook organizer, if she carried one.”

“Will do.”

They said their goodbyes. Shane and I headed back to Addie’s car for the drive to Manhattan. We sat in silence for the first few minutes.

Finally, Shane came out with, “I need coffee. You?”

“Oh yeah.”

He stopped at a fast food joint we’d noticed on the way to Brian’s house, and ordered two coffees and two breakfast burritos. He parked in the lot so we could have some time to talk.

“So, where do we go from here?” I asked. “I mean, in terms of investigating?”

“Derek.”

“You don’t believe he’s involved?” I shuddered.

“No. I don’t. Then again, I always liked him so I’m a bit biased in his favor. But I am entertaining the possibility he knows something he doesn’t realize is important.”

“Oh, crap!” I shouted. “Speaking of important.”

“What?”

“I had a flashback while you and Mr. Martin were discussing the Matisse.” I told him about Rob witnessing a murder in the hospital, and that the victim had been Crimson’s brother.

“Shane, we knew Rob and Crimson were friends, but this kind of bond is much closer. And Rob swore there was some kind of proof.”

“Whoa. Holly, with deference to Mr. Shakespeare, you’ve just confirmed that the play really is ‘the thing.’ Slanderous accusations or embarrassment over past misdeeds are one thing, but if this captain realized Rob was about to ‘out’ him both as a traitor and a murderer, well, he’d have a good reason to make sure Rob’s play never saw the light of day. Hell, I’m surprised he didn’t take out Crimson years ago along with Rob.”

“My exact thought.”

Shane snapped his fingers. “Hang on a second. I want to confirm something.” He grabbed his cell phone and hit whatever let him access the Internet. I stayed silent while he searched.

“Ha! We missed this the other day in her bio. Remember when I said I thought Crimson had been offered a gig in Europe? She did a film there in ’73. She wasn’t around when Rob was killed.”

I was right with him. “I’ll bet our guy never knew she was Private Mike’s sister. There’s the whole name difference after all. And she didn’t witness his murder. Anyway, she takes off for Europe and stays safe. Ten to one she only became a threat when she found that old draft of the play and started talking to people about finally getting it produced. Obviously the wrong person found out… I mean, it’s all speculation but it seems to me our killer isn’t one to take chances.”

Shane waited until he’d swallowed a large bite of his burrito. “I agree. Let’s try to organize this into a timeline that makes sense. So, in the spring of ’73, as far as the killer was concerned, only Rob knew the full story. Then he found out Rob had asked you to help. Which again, begs the question, who else knew you were working with Rob, apart from you, me, and your da?”

“Not a clue. I haven’t had any flashbacks providing any answers. I’m not even sure when Rob told Frannie.”

“Is there some way to trigger your visions?” Shane asked. “I mean, nudge your memory where we want it to go? Does that sound horrible?”

I laughed. “A little sinister and unpleasant. But I’d be willing to try hypnosis or electroshock therapy or something equally loony if I thought it’d work. To be honest, I was surprised I had a memory that didn’t include you back at Brian’s house. Up until today all my flashbacks have either been with you or about you.”

“So what is the common connection?”

“I’m not sure there is one. My memories seem to center around wherever I am and the people I’m with.”

Shane nodded but didn’t say anything for a long moment. He appeared to be zoning out of the whole conversation.

“Shane? What?”

“We still have more than one murder to solve, but Holly, I can’t see much ahead for us other than grief. It’s tearing me apart.”

“What do you mean?”

“I want to see justice done and I have to assume you were sent back to me to either save me or stop another killing. But let’s assume we solve this. Will it change anything for
us
? What’s going to happen? Can you stick around forever as a ghost I can’t really touch? Or worse, I’m terrified the minute we learn who did this—the minute he’s brought to justice—you’ll disappear. I can’t stand losing you again.”

I waited a long moment before responding. “Believe me, the same thing occurred to me. It has ever since I remembered meeting you for the first time. I joke with Addie about haunting her but—pardon the phrase—it’s killing me to imagine being without you again. Do I cross into the light and hang out and wait for you?”

“Any way you look at it, our lives were changed back then. But we need to find out who did this. We have to stop him before he ruins any other lives.”

“Agreed. Enough wallowing in despair. Time for action. Shit. Brian Martin has a family. And Frannie Stutzgraft believes she’s safe but is she? I don’t want this creep coming after any of them on the off chance they have some information.”

“Let’s get to it, then.” Shane put his empty coffee cup and burrito wrapper into a bag. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

Shane eased out of the parking lot and back onto the street leading to the George Washington Bridge. I stared out of the passenger side window, obsessing about how much longer I’d be on earth, and whether everything we were doing had a purpose or whether proverbial tails were being chased in circles.

I felt a sudden tension in my neck and shoulders. “Shane?”

“Yes, luv?”

“I’m having a weird feeling, like something bad is going to happen.”

“Worse than what’s already happened?”

“I mean, more immediate. Like in the next few minutes.”

“Are you sensing danger?” Shane asked.

“It’s more a déjà vu vibe.”

Shane continued to head for the bridge. “Um, work with me here. No offense, but do you have anything more specific?”

I tried to force the feeling into something more solid. Nothing happened.

“Holly?”

“Hang on. Something…Shane! Quick, take the upper level!”

Bless the man. He didn’t ask why. He just moved—illegally, since we were in the “no changing lanes at this point” area—and swerved into the lane reserved for the second tier. Fortunately, the road wasn’t crowded and we reached the toll plaza without any issues. I sat back and tried to relax.

“Still twitchy?” Shane asked.

“Yes.”

He paid and continued on to the upper deck, staying in the right hand lane. I kept waiting for whatever awful thing I couldn’t identify to happen. So far all was serene and quiet. Just a pretty April day’s drive across a bridge, with the beauty of the Manhattan skyline in front of us.

“I guess I overreacted,” I told Shane. “What did I expect—the killer to swing down from one of the girders and shoot at us through the window?”

Shane laughed. “Addie’s got you watching too many movies.”

“Well, I still…” I never finished the sentence. I listened in horror to the sound of metal colliding with metal on the bridge’s lower level.

“Shane!”

“I hear it. Can you see anything?”

I rolled down the window and glanced behind us. Four cars had crumpled into a single accordion. I could see flames licking the hood of the second vehicle.

“Holly, you can be heard by everyone, right?”

“Apparently.”

Shane handed me his cell. “Nine-one-one.”

I punched in the numbers with shaking hands. The dispatcher assured me responders were already on their way and thanked me for the prompt call.

I laid the phone down on my lap. “She said the paramedics and cops and firefighters should be there soon.”

As soon as I finished my sentence I saw the flashing lights coming from both sides of the bridge. There was nothing more Shane or I could do other than pray.

We reached the Manhattan side of the bridge and then headed up to the Inwood area. Shane pulled over and found a place to park.

“I need to gather my wits and begin to breathe normally again. Hell. If we’d been on the lower level…”

“Yes.”

“Holly. You knew, didn’t you? This was the vibe you were getting?”

“Shane, this was so strange. I kept feeling we weren’t in danger as long as we took the upper level. How did I know?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Weren’t you complaining only last night to Addie and me that your one trick as a ghost was invisibility? Are ya now includin’ a mite of second sight to your skills, lass?” Shane teased.

“If a crystal ball in my brain could tell me who did what and where we need to go from here, believe me, I’d love to include ‘seer’ on my resume,” I said. “Which brings me to—”

“Where do we go from here?”

“Amazing. My exact thought!”

We both grinned.

“I’d like to give up driving for the day. Do you mind? We can walk or take the train if we decide to do any more investigating or interviewing this afternoon.”

“It’s fine.”

“Holly? You sound odd. What’s up?”

“I don’t…I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“What? Investigating?”

“No.
This
. Being with you but not being with you. Scared I’m going to disappear any moment. I just…can’t take this.”

Shane was silent for a moment. Then he turned my direction. “Holly, as crazy as it sounds, since I almost got shot yesterday and I’m chasing around like some spy in an old Ludlum thriller, well, the last two days have been the happiest I’ve had for years. I understand all your angst about us at this moment. I feel the same. I’m scared, too. I don’t have a clue where this is all going to end up, but I’ll take whatever time has been granted us for this chance to hear your voice, even if only for a day.”

I began to cry the moment he said these last days were his happiest. I straightened my non-existent shoulders and leaned over and kissed Shane’s cheek. “Okay, you Irish charmer, you did it again. Convinced me to be brave and see this through.”

He drove back to West 200th and the garage where Addie housed the car.

“I’d like to see if Jordan Matthews received any mail yesterday,” he said after he’d parked. “Check if any little notes were slipped under the door or messages left on the answering machine. It’s just a few blocks from here.”

“I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now. What if you’re recognized by any goons our killer may have hunting for you?”

“Hey! This, Holly, my love, is where your special talent could come in handy.”

I got it. “You want Invisible Girl to go in your place?”

“Why not? They can’t see you, let alone hurt you,” he said. He stared down at the keys he held and burst out with, “God, I hate this! It’s ’73 all over again. All the uncertainty and the feeling of not being in control of my own life. Wondering where and when the next attack is coming.”

“We need to stay positive,” I said. “We’re learning more all the time. It’s going to be fine. Absolutely fine.” I was trying to convince myself as well as Shane. “Okay. I’ll sneak into your place, grab your mail, and water the plants. Why don’t you head on up to Addie’s and I’ll meet you there in an hour?”

Shane responded with, “Sounds like a plan. Are you going to be all right?”

“No problem. As you said, if someone
is
there, he’ll never see me.” An evil idea grabbed me. “I can take advantage of my spectral state. Call out nasty things in a spooky voice. Any intruder will freak.”

Shane laughed. “I do love you, Holly Malone, for all yer wicked ways.”

We exchanged keys. Shane headed north and I headed south, cutting through the edge of Fort Tryon Park over to the numerous apartment buildings on Thayer Street. I checked the entrance in case anyone was about to enter or leave and glanced down the street as well. Quiet. Not even an inquisitive stray dog was out.

I let myself into Shane’s building and took the stairs to the third floor. I stopped in front of 3C—frozen and terrified.

The door was ajar.

I leaned toward the gap and heard two people. They were making no effort to be stealthy or quiet and were casually chatting with each other. One turned on Shane’s answering machine. The next voice I heard had an odd, muffled tone.

There were two messages. The first was from a dentist’s office confirming Jordan Matthews’ status as a new patient. The second was from the girl who’d unwittingly leaked Shane’s name, as Jordan, to the
Village Voice
.

“Hi, Jordy. It’s Tina. Just wanted to tell you a group of us are getting together Friday for the Save the Earth climate change demonstration. It’s going to be held at Bryant Park, like the last one, but we’re meeting at the diner at the corner of Dyckman and Broadway at five, if you want to join us there first.”

The machine clicked off. One of the intruders said something crass about protestors before adding, “We need to be there. It may be our chance to grab Halloran.”

“Alive, right?”

“For now. The damned script is what we’re after. Once we’ve got it, Halloran is expendable. But it needs to look like an
accident
. That moron Morgan had no idea what he was doing. Mugging in a park? Amateur hour.”

“We’re sure this Jordan fellow is Halloran?”

I heard laughter. “Take a look and tell me he’s not.”

I peeked through the crack in the door. Two men, both wearing sweatshirts and jeans, stood by a table in Shane’s living room. One of them held up a photograph. “Found this in the desk. It’s an old picture and I do mean old. But it’s him.” He handed over the photo.

The second man flipped it over and read aloud, “‘Shane and Holly. Cloisters Museum. March 1973.’”

“Obliging of him to name names.” He snickered.

“Yeah. Shit. Chick was a looker, wasn’t she?”

“A bit too thin for my taste, but pretty face. Is she someone else we need to find?”

The first man laughed again. “Only in a graveyard. She’s the one who went over the bridge the night Halloran got away. She was working with Rob Stutzgraft.”

“Who?”

The first man gave the second a look of disgust. “Shit, don’t you ever listen when you’re given a job? You’re worse than that idiot Morgan. Do a little research, man. Stutzgraft wrote the goddamned play.”

“So why not get it from him?”

“Crap, you’re beyond clueless! He’s already dead. Script is all that’s left. Okay. We got what we needed; let’s get the hell out of here. Make sure nothing’s out of place. Don’t want to scare the old man off. If he comes back here Halloran will be at the diner or the protest on Friday.”

“Unless he hauls his sorry ass out of town again. He knows how to hide. Did it well enough for forty-three years.”

The two men approached Shane’s front door. I ran to the window at the end of the floor’s hallway, brushing up against several plants on the sill.

They checked the hall, which looked empty to them, then locked Shane’s door.

I could have waited for them to leave, but I didn’t. I was furious, and I had the power to do something. Time for a little spook action. I opened the windowsill and then slammed it shut.

The sound startled them both. They glanced to the end of the hall to see if someone was lurking on the fire escape. Then they ran to the window. I didn’t let them get far. I pitched one plant and hit Creep Number One on his shoulder. He cried out but continued to run down the hall. I pitched the second plant and nailed Creep Number Two dead center in the chest. He fell to the floor and yelled at Creep Number One to “get” whoever was outside.

For the first time since I’d been back I was having a great time being a ghost. I raised the window again and once more slammed it shut.

I gave it about five seconds before letting loose with a huge scream, and following it up with my spookiest, “Leave Shane
alooooone
!”

“What the hell?” Creep Number Two was up again. “Who’s there?”

Why not answer? He couldn’t see me but he could hear me so I’d use whatever advantage I could. I called out, “I’m
Holleee
. I
diiieeed
but I’m back! I will hunt you to the ends of the earth if you hurt Shane. I’ll torment you for all
eternity
. Leave him
aloooooone
!”

I ran past them as they headed toward the fire escape and took the stairs two at a time. I’d decided any more howling would be overkill at the present time. Anyway, I doubted they’d heed the warning. They’d just convince themselves it was some trick Shane had set up. Stage effects. Still, anything I could do to put them off their game might help keep Shane alive.

Both men made it onto the street about five seconds after I came out the front door. They each looked down the street, trying to figure out who’d thrown potted plants at them while claiming to be a ghost.

Nothing. Not a single car was cruising down Thayer. The only person on the sidewalk was a very old lady walking with a cane. One thug went to the north end of the block, the other to the south, both looking for doorways their invisible tormentor could be using as a hiding place. Again, they found nothing and met each other in front of Shane’s building.

“Shit. This is stupid. We’re just freaking out over Morgan’s death,” the shorter of the two declared.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about Morgan. I just want to find Halloran before he finds a way to go public.”

I was going to follow them and see if they’d lead me to the man behind all this but they got into a car, and I couldn’t exactly climb in with them. But I leaned close to the open window and said, loud enough for both to hear me, “It’s not
ooveerr
. Leave Shane
alooooone
. I’ll be watching!”

The driver again yelled, “Shit!” His partner shouted something far nastier, and they sped off.

I began the walk back to Park Terrace, about thirty blocks. I stopped at the small children’s playground in Fort Tryon Park. It was a school day so the kids were safely in a classroom somewhere, learning great things. There were only one or two nannies who’d brought their toddler charges out. It was a windy day and I figured no one would notice if I rocked in the swing for a few moments. I needed to sit. I needed to be away from everyone, including Shane, and let the past few days fly into the air. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to worry.

But thinking and worrying were all I did, because I knew the assassins who’d been sent to hunt Shane weren’t going to stop. They wouldn’t be deterred by a voice in a hallway—no matter how spine-chilling—and loud noises, a few plants flying around, or a window opening and closing by itself.

Worse, I knew goons had the photo of Shane and me. Soon they’d start tracking down anyone who was close to Holly Malone, and that would lead them to Addie. The apartment was listed under
Kennedy
but it wouldn’t be hard to discover Adelaide Kennedy had been born Adelaide Malone. She and Shane weren’t safe anymore. We were losing time. We had to find out who was behind this. We had to stop them. Anyone this organized had resources we’d never be able to match.

Resources that would ultimately get Shane and Addie killed.