To Sketch a Thief by Pape Sharon

Author:Pape, Sharon
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2011-04-18T16:00:00+00:00

“Welcome back,” Rory said. She’d been sitting on the couch in the living room reading the newspaper, with Hobo beside her chewing on a stuffed toy, when the lights flickered and Zeke appeared in the chair kitty-corner to them. Hobo immediately dropped the toy and tucked his big head into the protective curve of Rory’s arm, like a furry, four-legged ostrich.

“Glad to be back.” Zeke grinned, a slash of dimples bracketing his mouth like exclamation marks. He appeared refreshed, even jaunty. And if he’d thought of any sarcastic remarks to make about Hobo’s hiding skills, he courteously chose not to voice them. Rest was apparently as good for a ghost as it was for folks still hooked up to flesh and bone.

“I have something to show you,” Rory said. With her free hand she reached for the manila envelope she’d left on the glass cocktail table, away from the threat of kitchen spills and stains. She shook the envelope until all the pages slid out, then picked up the sheet with the image of the railroad ticket and held it up for him to see. “Does this look familiar?”

Since Rory was still seated with the cowering Hobo for an anchor, Zeke stood up and came closer to get a better look at it. His eyebrows arched in surprise. “It surely does,” he said, straightening to his full height. “That’s a Pennsylvania Railroad ticket to Jersey City, New Jersey. Back in my day the train didn’t take you all the way into Manhattan, it being an island and all. You had to take a boat for the last part. Where ever did you come by that?”

“The U.S. Marshals Service. It was one of the only pieces of hard evidence they had from the day you were killed.”

“I’m impressed, Aurora.”

In the spirit of good sportsmanship, Rory didn’t chastise him for using her given name. “I want you to know that before Mac died he’d also been tracking this down.”

“I thank you for that,” Zeke said, his smile ebbing into a gentle sadness. “I never did lose faith in his efforts to help me.”

Rory wanted to ask him why he’d been giving her such a rough time about it then, but she snatched the words back before they could pass through her lips.

“Wait a second,” Zeke said, hunkering down and frowning at the image of the ticket. “That’s not my ticket.”

“Are you sure?”

“Damn sure. Look at the date it was purchased.”

Rory had seen the date, but it hadn’t raised any questions in her mind. She shook her head. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Well, I boarded the train for Jersey City on September the fourth. This ticket’s dated the fifth. And Trask was workin’ out here in Huntington for near on a month by then, so the ticket can’t be his, neither.”

“It belonged to the man who killed you,” Rory murmured, the words no more than a whisper. Although she already knew that Zeke had died in this house, in this very

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