Ghost Ship by Alderman P. J

Author:Alderman, P. J. [Alderman, P. J.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2015-11-02T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

After taking a shower and downing several more aspirin tablets, Jordan stopped in at the neighborhood florist’s to pay for Hattie’s roses. The owner seemed more thrilled by the prospect of being robbed by a ghost than by Jordan’s offer to reimburse her for the loss.

By the time Jordan arrived at All That Jazz, Darcy was already holding a table. As Jordan crossed the room, she gave Jase a questioning look, wondering if he needed help behind the bar, but he shook his head. Relieved that she would have some down time, she headed for Darcy’s table, but ended up detouring to check in with Tom, who was sitting at a nearby table with two men she’d never met before. Both wore paint-streaked overalls, though, so she surmised that they worked with him.

“Any chance you can drop by the house tomorrow morning to help me dismantle a bookcase?” she asked Tom when she was within hearing.

He raised both eyebrows but refrained from asking outright. “What time?”

“Ten-ish? That gives me time to take Malachi out for breakfast.”

“I’ll be there.”

The pub was crowded for a Wednesday night, and several of the patrons weren’t drinking. Absently noting a number of ghosts dressed in old-fashioned work clothes, Jordan pulled out the chair across from Darcy and sank into it. An unshaven man two tables away caught her eye. While she was puzzling out why he looked familiar to her, he looked her way, locking gazes with her. He smiled, his expression more cocksure than friendly. Then he stood and left. She frowned, still not placing him, then gave up, shrugging the feeling away.

Malachi made the rounds, greeting everyone he knew with a lick, holding up his paw for a shake, then took up his favorite position on the floor by her feet. Not for the first time, Jordan wondered why the big dog didn’t seem to be wary of the ghosts in the pub, while at home, he frequently disappeared when they were around. Perhaps it had more to do with the level of tension in the house, versus the relatively low-key buzz from the ghosts in the pub, who were typically on hand to socialize and listen to the live jazz. Whatever the reason, she found it reassuring that he could see them.

“Looks like we’ve got four distinct sets of unidentified fingerprints at Holt’s house, not counting yours and Holt’s,” Darcy said by way of greeting. “Your fingerprints were all over the attic.”

“That would be from about three weeks ago, when I hunted through the boxes to find Michael Seavey’s papers.” Jordan propped her running shoes on the extra chair. “So three sets that are unidentified.”

Darcy nodded. “You did notice that there are mice up in that attic? Lots of them? Everywhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then. So much for worrying whether you contracted hantavirus.” Darcy shook her head, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

When officially off duty, Darcy typically exchanged her work clothes for outfits that were more flattering to her tall, slender build.

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