“You were?”
“Oh, yes, and that’s probably why I like your boy David-even if I remain skeptical, wary and watchful. You see, his ancestor-Craig Beckett from many, many years ago-came back into town and saw that Eli Smith was hanged for his part in the attack and Victoria’s death. Maybe that’s what I hear!” Bartholomew said with a touch of bitterness. “Smith, eyes bulging, organs giving out, as he swung from the tree!”
As Katie glanced across the room, she saw a woman leaning against the wall near the ladies’ room. Her hair was loose, hanging down her back, and her clothing wasn’t the elegant apparel of a nineteenth-century lady, but more like that of a woman who worked hard in her home throughout the day. Her blouse was white cotton, open at her throat, which bore angry, red marks. She seemed very sad. Katie had seen her before, but the woman never spoke to her.
The ghost saw a table where a group of young children sat with a mother and father. The kids were drinking Shirley Temples and munching on fries.
The ghost drifted over to the table. She took an empty chair.
She looked longingly at the children.
The mother perked up, looking around. She nudged her husband, uncomfortable and not knowing why.
The husband asked for the check, and the family left.
The ghost faded away, still sad.
“I don’t believe that Danny Zigler was capable of either of the murders,” Katie said.
“You’re back to the same question,” Bartholomew told her. “Were they both committed by the same person? Or was this a copycat killing?”
Katie stood, deciding not to order any food. She left the girl bills that were double the price of the iced tea.
“Let’s go. I want to see if Liam is at the police station.”
“What? Why?” Bartholomew asked her.
“I don’t know-you said something that made me start thinking that somehow we’re missing something.”
“Like what?”
“Motive.”
“The killer is crazy in the head, that’s a motive!” Bartholomew said. “I’d hate to tell you a few of the things I saw in my day-just because someone could get away with it.”
But Katie was already moving. She heard Bartholomew sigh-and follow her.
It took a few minutes to get through to Liam on the phone, but David knew his cousin would find the time to talk to him. Eventually, Liam came on.
“Sorry, David, this place is insane today. Procedure. We’re bringing in everyone who worked at the strip club, and we’re trying to track down anyone who was at the strip club that night.”
“Understandable. What about Mike Sanderson? Has anyone pursued that angle?”
“We’ve put through some calls. Apparently, he became a salesman, and he isn’t working by computer. We’ve reached his wife, and she said he was traveling. She gave us all his numbers, but we haven’t reached him yet. We’ve contacted the Cleveland police to let them know that we need their help in a cold-case investigation.”
“So no one knows where he is right now, right?”
“No. But to go assuming he might be in the Keys or Key West again is a long shot, David.”
“I know. But it’s not the time to ignore any suspicion, however thin.”
“We’re not ignoring it, I promise. I don’t have much time. I have to get back to questioning folks. No one is under arrest-everyone is coming in willingly, so we have to make it all quick and cordial.”
“No word yet on Danny Zigler?”
“Nothing. There’s an APB out on him, and the black-and-whites have gone by his place to try to find him several times. We’re getting a search warrant.”
“Thanks.”
“So,” Liam said carefully, “what are you doing?”
“Following hunches.”
“Nothing illegal, please.”
“Liam, if I do anything illegal, I sure as hell don’t intend to tell you and compromise your position.”
“David-”
“Liam, I have the police reports and all the old crime-scene photos and info to study. Don’t worry, all right?”
“Keep me posted,” Liam said with a groan.
“I will,” David said.
And he would. After his next stop, he’d go by the station and turn in the credit card. The police might have already questioned the kid who had been with Stella.
He was glad to have the card; he wanted to talk to the kid. But he was pretty sure that Stella hadn’t been murdered by a chance john. Whoever had killed her had premeditated the murder. She’d been an easy mark. The display of her body had been far more important than her life.
He reached the house where Danny Zigler had his apartment.
It was on the second floor. He climbed up the stairs, came to the door and rapped on it loudly.
There was no answer.