Free The Sense of Reckoning by Matty Dalrymple Page B

clear. For me, a spirit usually appears either much as he or she was in life or not at all. But this whatever-it-is surrounding you could be a weak spirit having difficulty manifesting itself or a strong spirit largely but not completely hiding itself from me. You met Mr. Firth—which would be your guess?”
    Ann considered. “Weak, I suppose. He seemed indecisive. Ineffectual. I understand from the detective who investigated the murder that it seems likely he killed his wife after his father chewed him out about an unsuccessful investment, and it may be that his wife also made some insulting comment that made him snap.”
    “Well, weak isn’t necessarily less dangerous than strong. A child playing with matches can burn down a house as quickly as a professional arsonist.”
    Ann shifted nervously in her chair, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder. “What can I do about it?”
    “I don’t know. It’s a bit difficult to formulate a plan of attack if one is not even sure who the enemy is. Or what.” He gazed thoughtfully at her. “You could go back to the scene of his wife’s murder. See if you could leave him there. Like removing muck from one’s shoes on a boot scraper,” he said, clearly enjoying this rhetorical flourish.
    “Do you think that would work?”
    After a moment Garrick said, “No. How long are you staying in Maine?”
    “As long as I need to.”
    “I can’t imagine an extended stay will be required—within another day or two I should be able to tell you whether it’s possible to assist in this matter. However, it might be informative to see you at various times of the day. You killed him in the evening, correct?”
    “Jeez, Garrick.”
    “He died in the evening, correct?” he amended.
    “Yes.”
    “And I believe that he also killed his wife in the evening, yes?”
    “Yes, that seemed most likely.”
    “Very inconvenient, in view of my other engagement.”
    “Ah, the mysterious ‘other engagement.’”
    “It’s highly confidential.”
    “So you said.”
    Garrick raised an eyebrow at her crossly, then took a sip from a mug on his desk. “I can tell you that it involves a woman seeking information from her deceased brother. He appears for only a brief period around midnight and insists on discussing other topics, so it is taking some time to obtain the desired information. There is some urgency to obtaining the information, however, which is why I can’t reschedule the engagement.”
    “What is the information she’s looking for?” asked Ann.
    Garrick examined her speculatively for some time, then said, “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty—”
    “Of course.”
    Garrick tapped his fingers together. “This evening is not possible. Why don’t you come back tomorrow at, say, ten o’clock in the morning and we will see if this whatever-it-is around you has become more clear. If not, and depending on how my engagement goes tonight, perhaps tomorrow evening would be a possibility.”
    Ann, recognizing her dismissal, stood and retrieved her parka. Garrick followed her to the front door, opened it for her, and shut it behind her without a word.
    Ann pulled her cellphone from her knapsack and pushed the speed dial for Scott.
    “That was fast,” he answered.
    “Yes. He saw something but he can’t tell what. I’m supposed to come back tomorrow.”
    “Well, that sounds promising—at least he can see something.”
    “Yeah.” Ann felt unaccountably discouraged, although she realized she shouldn’t have expected instant results. “What are you up to?”
    “I’m just down the road at that cute building, want to meet me here? Then we could go for a walk, there are lots of hiking trails. I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes.”
    “When have you known me to wear anything other than comfortable shoes?” said Ann. “I’ll see you in a minute.” She slipped the phone back in the knapsack, slung the knapsack onto her back, and descended the steps to the walk. She