“If you were friends with Logan and worked with him, you were probably pretty intense as a cop,” Jane said.
“Intense? I think it’s a requirement. Anyway, I liked working in Houston. And I don’t mind being the sheriff in Lily. There is a lot here that’s good. I like the history, and the fact that my family’s from this area. Anyway, who knows what the future will hold?”
The velvet curtains were drawn back by an usher as they spoke; people surged out of the theater area and into the bar.
“Time for me to go,” Logan said, rising. He dug into his pocket and left a large bill on the table. “I’ll pick you up in the morning. Eight-thirty? We have a car you can use while you’re here if you want, but it’s down at the sheriff’s office.”
“Thank you. I’ll build up the skull tomorrow, get a more realistic look at measurements and have a more accurate image of soft-tissue depth, at least,” she told him.
“Thanks,” he said. “You should see the show while you’re here.”
“I did watch a few minutes of it before you arrived. It’s really cute.”
“Catch the haunted hayride, too.”
“Sounds like fun. Maybe I will.”
People were spilling out of the theater. He glanced at the crowd and grimaced. “Kind of a long day. I’m out of here. Good night.”
“Good night.”
He made a quick escape, and Jane soon realized why. It had been a full house and forty or fifty people were milling in the bar. It seemed a nice crowd; the show made people laugh and put them in a pleasant mood. Some people were going across the street to the saloon—too crowded at the Gilded Lily. She could see that the theater was good for all the businesses in the area. It brought those who then stayed at the Old Jail or other local bed-and-breakfast places or hotels and it brought people to shop and visit restaurants and use the stables.
Liz came sailing by to ask her if she wanted anything else before the crowd got crazy. Jane said no.
“I told you, you’re totally on the house,” Liz said, looking at the money.
“Sloan left that.”
“That man!” Liz groaned. “He always tips way too much. Well, Lily is his town, and he tries to make sure we all do well here. Wish he’d stay around!”
“You don’t think he’s going to stay in Lily?” Jane asked.
Liz shook her head. “No. Not forever, anyway. He’s popular here. He’s a man’s man, you know?” She laughed. “He doesn’t smoke, but I could’ve seen him as the Marlboro Man, sexy and rugged and good-looking. Don’t you think?”
“He’s a very attractive man,” she replied, trying to sound noncommittal.
“Be still, my heart!” Liz said, and then laughed again. “Oh, well. You sure you don’t want anything else—more tea, some coffee or maybe decaf?”
“No, no, I’m fine, thank you. I’m going to call it a night.” She reached for her purse; her food might be free, but she wasn’t letting a server work for nothing.
“Don’t you dare leave money. Next time, you can give me a tip if you want. Sloan tipped enough for five tables,” Liz told her. “Seriously, don’t you put down a dime!”
Jane didn’t want to insult the woman and she was afraid that insisting might just do so. “All right, thank you. But, please—”
“Next time!” Liz said.
Liz moved on, efficiently taking orders from the crowd now seeking chairs and bar stools.
Jane didn’t see Henri Coque, Jennie or any of the actors yet—just the people who’d been in the audience. She headed for the stairs. She glanced around to see if the slightest hint of an apparition might appear; none did. She was convinced, however, that she’d seen the image of a woman there earlier.
The ghost in her room? The spirit of Sage McCormick?
And had Sage been busy in the bedroom while she was gone?
Jane turned the key in her lock, opened her door, flipped on the light and looked around. Nothing seemed to have changed in the room. “Hello,” she said softly.
“Hey!”
The shout came from the hall. Startled, Jane swung around. Brian Highsmith was opening the door to the room beside hers. “You all right, Jane? Were you expecting to greet the resident ghost? If you’re worried, I can check out the room for you.”
Brian was serious; he seemed worried that she might be frightened, even though he knew she was an FBI agent.
“Just because you know how to use a gun,” he said, walking down the hall toward her, “doesn’t mean you might not be afraid of the theater’s reputation.”
“Brian, I’m pretty sure every old building has a reputation for being haunted.”
“But this is Lily.”
“Yes, yes, it is.”