“It’s still possible that Lizzie’s grave doesn’t really have anything to do with why he was killed,” Mo said.
He was thoughtful. “I don’t think so. The matchbook with Lizzie grave on it came from the Mystic Magic strip club. And Wendy Appleby, who worked there, was targeted when she came to hear Richard speak. They were killed together. It all has to mean something,” he said. He turned around abruptly. In the near-total darkness of the mausoleum, he couldn’t see the ghosts at all—they weren’t even puffs of white in the air. But he said aloud, “Thank you, Miss Hampton. Thank you, Major Andre. Right now I don’t know exactly what this means, but it may become very important.”
A silence hung in the dank air of the tomb.
Then Mo spoke. “You’re welcome, Aidan. If they’ve helped in any way, they’re pleased.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let me get you home so you don’t miss your call time.” He paused. Had Richard Highsmith been here?
The gate and the seal had given easily. Someone had come here not long ago. Richard? Or someone else?
“Let’s go,” he said.
“I should get there soon. And I still have to take Rollo to the house. Grace is picking me up there, so if I’m late, she will be, too.”
As he started to leave the tomb, he bumped into her and instinctively set his hands on her to steady them both. He felt as if the scent of her soap or perfume pushed away that of death and decay. The warmth of her body, so close to his, was vibrant, filled with life.
He wanted to pull her against him and hold her there and believe for just a minute that he’d found the answers. That they could step into the daylight together and...
“Sorry!” he murmured.
“It’s okay. I must say, a living human touch in here is nice.”
Rollo whined.
“Oh, yes, and so is a dog. A dog’s always good!” she said.
He left the tomb, catching her hand so she could easily follow. Rollo had no problem; it seemed he could see in the dark.
Aidan didn’t release her hand as he picked his way through the monuments and stones to go back down to the car. She didn’t seem to mind keeping her hand in his.
As he neared the pathway that would hide the vault from their view, he looked back. For a moment, he at least imagined he could see them.
The handsome Andre—“more unlucky than criminal”—and the beautiful woman he had secretly loved before his death.
The woman who’d paid the ultimate price for loving him.
He walked on down the hill, Mo’s hand in his, Rollo beside the two of them.
What the hell did it all mean?
If he could figure that out, he just might catch the killers.
12
Grace showed up just as they returned to Mo’s house. She spoke with Aidan while Mo took Rollo inside, fed him and made sure his water bowl was filled before heading out for the night.
They said goodbye to Aidan and got into Grace’s car to leave. Grace waved as she eased out of Mo’s drive.
Then she turned to Mo, beaming. “So?”
“So?”
“Have you two done it yet?”
“Grace! He’s an agent, working on the case.”
“He’s a man, honey. You mean to tell me you haven’t...” She shook her head. “You’re one asexual woman. If you don’t do something pretty soon, what a waste! A total waste. Do you want me to offer myself up? You can’t just let a divine hunk of masculinity like that go! What’s the matter with you? I mean, what’s available here? Tommy Jensen? Creepy Tommy?”
“Grace!” Mo protested.
Grace said, “Oh, we all like Tommy now. There’s nothing wrong with him. Granted, he’s more like a brother. And Phil’s like another brother from a different mother! Or Ron...never mind, he’s gay and in a good relationship. But what are you doing?”
“Grace!”
“Tell me you aren’t fascinated with the guy.”
“I am.”
“Oh!” Grace said, clearly surprised. “Well, then?”
Mo sighed and swung around to look at her. “What do you want me to do, Grace? Just say, ‘Agent Mahoney, the pickings here are slim, and you’ve got all the right parts, and they seem to be in working order. Should we have sex?’”
“No, that would be rude. Crude.”
“Worse than rude or crude. Humiliating!” Mo groaned.
“It’s the way you said it. Just, ‘I’d love to have sex with you.’ That would be the way to do it,” Grace said.
Mo groaned again.
“If you don’t see it, you’re blind. Sparks seem to pop off both of you when you’re together.”
“I’m trying to help him find a killer!”
“And he will find the killer,” Grace said with certainty. “That’s his job. It’s what he does. But he’s still a man and he deserves a life beyond work!”
Mo couldn’t argue with that. “Don’t we all,” she murmured. “I brought him by the Haunted Mausoleum today,” she said, hoping to change the topic.
“That should’ve been fun—but I’m sure you turned it into work somehow.”
Mo didn’t answer. “We’re just studying local legends, you know?”
“And only you could make that not fun!”