The doorbell chimed just as she selected one of the bulky packages. A subtle sense of awareness shifted through her. She did not need to look toward the door to know that Slade was there. She watched him walk into the front room. His lean frame and broad shoulders were silhouetted against the daylight filtering through the windows. Rex was with him. The dust bunny chortled a greeting.
She put down the bulky, plastic-shrouded object she had just taken from the box and walked into the sales room. She stopped a short distance away.
“Good morning,” she said. She looked at Rex. “Glad to see that Rex is enjoying his clutch.”
“He carries it everywhere,” Slade said.
“Are you, perhaps, a tad concerned about what it does to your image to be seen with a sidekick who carries a beaded clutch bag?”
“No,” Slade said.
She smiled. “Of course not.”
“I stopped in to tell you that I just talked to the ME over in Thursday Harbor. They’re calling Gaines’s death a heart attack. There are no signs of foul play and they have no one pushing them to do an autopsy.”
“As you predicted,” she said. “But you’re still certain that Jeremy was murdered?”
“No question.”
“What happens now?”
“I’m looking deeper into Gaines’s background but it’s going to take time. He was a pro. He knew how to cover his tracks.”
“What exactly are you looking for?”
“Clients, other dealers he may have worked with. His competition. When a guy like Gaines gets killed, it’s almost always business-related. I thought I’d take another look at the scene of the crime.”
She waved a hand toward the back room. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve moved some stuff around,” she warned.
“Doesn’t matter. The kind of evidence I’m looking for will still be there.”
“Psi residue?”
“Right.” He walked into the back room and crouched down in the area where Jeremy’s body had been found. Charlotte started to follow him and then stopped. There was no sign of Rex.
“Where’s your dust bunny?” she said.
“Not my bunny.” Slade crouched down and studied the floorboards.
Charlotte did a quick search of the premises. She found Rex perched on a Second Century tall clock. He had the clutch purse open beside him. When he saw her he chortled innocently and blinked his baby blues.
Satisfied that Rex was not bent on the destruction of her shop, she went to stand in the doorway of the back room. Energy shivered in the atmosphere. She knew that Slade was running a little hot, not fully cranked but definitely rezzed. She folded her arms and propped one shoulder against the doorjamb.
As she watched, he ran his fingertips across the floor. After a moment he got to his feet and walked slowly toward the rear door. He hunkered down a second time.
“What do you see?” she asked, fascinated.
“Same thing I saw the first time. I told myself that I was wrong but now I’m not so sure.”
“Not sure about what?”
“Cause of death.” He got to his feet.
“But you said it was by paranormal means.”
“No question about that. But as I told you, the ability to commit murder with psi energy is extremely rare. Any talent who could kill from this distance aboveground would have to be unusually powerful or possess an enhancing device. Maybe both.”
“Right. So?”
Slade looked down at the floor just inside the door, a cold, thoughtful expression hardening his features. “I can see the residue of the energy that was laid down by the killer when the murder was committed. It’s strong.” He walked slowly back to where Gaines’s body had been found. “But it is not, in and of itself, a lethal type of talent.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that the killer must have used a device of some kind to commit the murder. The thing is, para-weapons leave traces just like mag-rez pistols leave shell casings. This stuff doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen before. Definitely not crystal-based energy.”
“Alien technology, maybe?”
“No, alien technology leaves its own unique tracks. No question but that this was human psi generated through a para-weapon. But whatever it was, it was not a crystal gun.”
“It was bad enough knowing that Jeremy was involved in the black market, but to think that he might have been dealing para-weapons is appalling. How could he do such a thing?”
Slade looked amused. “Do I really need to answer that?”
She sighed. “No. He was a sociopath so I guess it’s no surprise that he had no qualms about the kind of antiques and antiquities he traded. Any luck tracking down his associates?”
“Some. Kane and Gilbert gave me the names of some heavy players in the black market. I came up with a few more from the Bureau’s files. But it takes time to check alibis. I’ve got Willis working on it now.”
“What happens next?”
“As I told Kane and Gilbert, the investigation is ongoing.”
She took a deep breath and braced herself. “Given that status, would you like to have dinner at my place tonight?”
He did not answer immediately, just studied her with a speculative expression.
She flushed, took off her glasses and concentrated on removing a tiny smudge with the hem of her T-shirt. “Sorry. I had the impression that you might be willing to risk a second date. If I got that part wrong, it’s okay. I understand, really.”
“You didn’t get it wrong,” he said, his voice perfectly neutral. “What do you want me to bring?”
Her spirits lifted. “Maybe you’d better bring the beer. I don’t have any and I wouldn’t know what brand to buy for you.”
“Fine. I’ll bring the beer. What time?”
She eyed him closely. “You’re really not worried about another date?”
“What additional damage could you possibly do to my ego this time around that you didn’t do the first time?”
She cleared her throat. “That’s one way to look at it. Why don’t you come over around six thirty? That will give me time to close the shop and pick up a few things at the grocery store.”
“That works. See you tonight.”
He walked past her into the front room.
Charlotte plunked the glasses back on her nose, got unstuck from the floor, and hurried after him.
“Wait,” she called.
He stopped, one big hand wrapped around the doorknob. “What?”
“Thanks,” she said. She stopped. “I appreciate the second chance. I’ll try not to screw things up this time around.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“We’ll keep everything casual,” she promised. “Just a couple of friends getting together for dinner.”
“As opposed to the two-talents-stranded-on-an-island scenario?”
“Right.”
“Is that the way you want it?”
“It’s probably best for now,” she said. Wistful regret shadowed her eyes.
“Why am I getting the feeling that you’re the one who’s nervous?”
“I am nervous,” she admitted. “I told you, when it comes to dating I’ve got a lousy track record.”
“Maybe you should stop trying to analyze your dates’ rainbows.”
“It’s a hard habit to break,” she said.
“Maybe you need more practice.”
“That’s a possibility.”
“See you at six thirty.”
She relaxed slightly. “Great.”
“I’ll bring the zucchini bread.”
“Don’t bother. Thelma Duncan left two more loaves on my doorstep this morning.”
“Rex will be excited.”
A small, distinct clang reverberated from the corner of the shop.
“Rex!”Charlotte yelped. She glared at Slade. “Your dust bunny is destroying my business.”
“Not my dust bunny,” Slade said.
Charlotte whirled around, searching for signs of mass destruction. She saw movement near the back wall and rushed through the tightly packed space. She finally saw Rex. He was perched on top of a dusty glass cabinet that contained an array of small amber and crystal objects. He had the clutch bag open and was in the process of leaning over the edge and reaching into the cabinet for one of the items on the top shelf.