“What books did he buy?” Sloan asked.
“The same books that stupid tourist did—and that you took the other day. You had a worse argument with the bastard than I did, Sloan. You told your deputy to keep his kid in jail overnight. He exploded over that!”
“How did you know?” Sloan asked. “Thought you hadn’t seen him.”
“I haven’t seen him,” Grant said, exasperated. “This is Lily—you sneeze and everyone knows it!”
“All right, Grant, thanks.” Sloan paused. “But I’m going to need to see your collectible books sometime soon.”
“Sloan, you can read through the night if you want. I have the original of the book Fogerty wrote after it all happened and he’d retired, and I have some of the newspapers from the day, but I don’t know what you’re going to get out of them.”
“I don’t, either. But I appreciate the opportunity to go through them.”
“You got it, Sloan. Whenever you want. Just so long as you don’t stop me from working today. The place is hopping!”
As Sloan let him get back to work, Mike Addison came outside, grinning.
It was bizarre that a local had been killed—viciously murdered, his throat slashed—and that no one in town seemed to mourn him.
But then, neither did his wife.
“What’s the smile for, Mike?” he asked.
“I just had some people check out of the B and B,” Mike told him.
“And that’s a good thing?”
“The wife was all freaked out. She said she saw the ghost of Trey Hardy sitting in the chair by the bed when she woke up. She made her husband get them a room at the chain hotel down the highway.”
“But don’t you want people staying in Trey Hardy’s cell?”
“Sure, but the more haunted the cell gets, the more I’ll have people clamoring to stay there. The wife is some kind of big blogger. Now I’ll have reservations for every night of the year!” Mike said happily.
It was while he was talking to Mike that Sloan saw Jane walking on the raised sidewalk from the theater to the Old Jail. Her costume today was crimson, and the color of her hair and eyes seemed to be enhanced by the color. She looked more beautiful than ever; he wondered if the ghost of Sage was pleased. She waved and made her way over.
“Wow,” Mike murmured. “Wow. You know her?”
“That’s Agent Jane Everett,” Sloan said, realizing that Mike and Jane hadn’t met.
“She’s a fed?” he asked incredulously. “Oh, but she’s an artist. She doesn’t...I mean, she doesn’t have a gun or anything like that, right?”
“She has a very big gun,” Sloan assured him.
“Hi,” Jane said to them.
Sloan performed the introductions. Jane was pleasant as she met Mike, but then she glanced at Sloan, a silent question in her eyes. He shook his head slightly, letting her know he hadn’t learned anything new.
“Mike is all excited. His guests ran out of the Trey Hardy room,” Sloan said.
“Oh?” Jane asked.
“Double income!” Mike said happily. “As soon as people hear, I’ll have someone else in. Double income—oh, yeah!”
“Hey, don’t rent it out for tonight,” Jane told him.
“Are you kidding me?” Mike asked. “Don’t you understand? This is a great thing for me. I can make double! The couple who left had paid ahead for the next few nights. I’ll rent the room out again, and I’ll be in good shape. That’s a rule when renting here—if you leave early, I keep the money!”
“I’ll take it for the night,” Jane said.
Mike looked at her in surprise. “You like ghosts, huh?”
“I love them.”
“I heard you were staying at the theater.”
“Oh, I am, but I’m here for a bit longer. I’d love to have the haunted Trey Hardy cell for a night.”
“Um, sure, but...” He glanced at Sloan and then asked her, “You, uh, wouldn’t shoot up the place or anything if you freaked out?”
“Believe me, Mike. I don’t freak out,” Jane assured him sweetly. “And I’ve almost never had to shoot anyone.”
“I’d feel kind of badly taking your money,” he said next.
“Oh, I’m here working. You’ll be paying for it in a way, too. Your federal dollars at work.”
“Well, then, what the hell! The room is yours,” Mike said.
“May I see it now?” Jane asked.
“Sure. Come on in!”
Sloan looked at her curiously, and she smiled. “I’d love to get to know Trey Hardy,” she said lightly.