Alex shrugged at that.
“That’s okay, Callahan,” he said. “Detweiler may not be quick on the uptake but he’s just got to find out how your victims are connected. I’d just be in the way.”
Callahan gave Alex a long hard look but didn’t say anything.
“What?” Alex asked.
“I thought you were smarter than that, Lockerby,” Callahan said. “Sure, Detweiler’s going to get off the widow as a suspect soon, but how many more people are going to die before he gets on the right track? I didn’t become a cop for the glamour, scribbler, I did it to protect people.”
Alex hadn’t considered that. It wasn’t his job to keep maniacs from running amok in the streets, after all. People hired him, and he did what they paid him for. If he did his job right, no one usually got killed.
“Talk to the Captain if you feel that way about it,” Alex said. “Fifth Division is the best he’s got and he knows it. Have him give the ghost case to you.”
“I can’t,” Callahan growled. “Detweiler’s wife is Rooney’s favorite niece. The Captain gives him all the breaks.”
Alex nodded, starting to see Callahan’s problem.
“And while Detweiler is stumbling around in the dark, the ghost is free to go on killing.”
Callahan nodded.
“So, what can I do about it?” Alex asked. “According to the Captain, I’m off the case.”
“The Captain can’t stop you from helping David Watson’s widow.”
“She won’t be a suspect much longer,” Alex said. “She probably won’t want to pay me once the police are officially looking for her husband’s killer.”
“Persuade her,” Callahan said.
Alex sighed. This ghost killer business had already ruined his link to the police and made him look ridiculous in the tabloids. If he pursued it and didn’t catch the ghost, he’d have egg on his face in front of the whole city. The tabloids would make him a laughing stock.
On the other hand, if he got the guy, he’d be a hero. The tabloids would print his name in big letters and make him out to be the best detective since Sherlock Holmes. That would bring in business.
“All right, Lieutenant,” he said with a resigned sigh. “I’ll go see Anne Watson tomorrow and get going, assuming I can find her.”
“She’s staying at the Waldorf,” Callahan said.
That explained why Leslie hadn’t been able to find Anne; the Waldorf was in the Core, and very expensive. Alex told Leslie to look at Inner-Ring hotels, figuring Anne wouldn’t want to spend the money on one in the Core. Apparently he was wrong.
“Well, at least she can afford my fee,” Alex said without humor. “She can get me access to her place, but what about the other crime scenes? Can you get me any of the files?”
Callahan scoffed at that.
“I’m risking my job the longer I stand here,” he growled, putting his hat back on. “You’re supposed to be some hot-shot detective — so detect.”
He moved to the vestibule and opened the door, looking back at Alex.
“It goes without saying that if you find anything, I’m your first phone call.”
“Scout’s honor, Lieutenant,” Alex said. He didn’t bother to mention that he’d never been a scout.
9
The Legwork
It was a quarter past nine in the morning when Alex got off at the crawler station across from the Waldorf hotel. He’d gone to bed early, just like he promised Iggy, but he felt like he hadn’t slept a wink.
The way his day was shaping up, he needed that sleep. Since the Waldorf wasn’t too far out of his way, Alex decided to stop there first. As he entered the sumptuous lobby, he remembered that he still had Leslie calling hotels looking for the widow Watson.
A row of phone booths stood against the side of the lobby and Alex made for them. When he fished a nickel out of his pocket, his hands shook badly enough that he had trouble dropping it in the slot. It was then he remembered Jessica and the flask of elixir.
“How could I forget her?” he asked himself, pulling the flask out of his jacket pocket and taking a swig. A moment later he wished he had forgotten. Jessica’s elixir tasted like dishwater.
Shuddering as he forced it down, Alex capped the flask and put it back in his pocket. He was supposed to take another shot at noon and he was already dreading it.
In the time it took him to put the flask away, the trembling in his hands had subsided and he easily dropped the nickel for the call into the phone’s slot.
“Lockerby Investigations,” Leslie said after the operator connected them.
“It’s me,” Alex said. “I wanted to—”
“It’s about time,” Leslie interrupted in a harried whisper. “Where are you?”
Alex explained about his visit from Callahan and going to see Anne Watson.
“So I called to tell you not to look for her anymore,” he finished.
“I haven’t been looking,” Leslie said, her voice indignant. “Do you have any idea what’s been going on here?”
Alex admitted that he didn’t; in fact, he had no idea why she seemed so upset.
“I have an office full of people here,” she said. “And those are just the ones that insisted on waiting for you.”
“What do they want?”
“They all read that story in the tabloids about the Runewright Detective,” Leslie explained. “They’re all here to get charms or wards to protect them from the ghost. One woman claims the ghost is living in her attic and wants you to drive him out.”
Alex laughed. He couldn’t help himself.
“Oh, real funny,” Leslie growled at him in a dangerous voice.
“Sorry, doll,” he said, managing to put on a straight face. “Tell you what, how would you like to close the office for the morning?”
“I can’t,” she said. “There might be some paying customers who come in and I’d like to eat next week.”
Alex remembered the money Andrew Barton had given him, patting his pocket to make sure it was still there.
“Don’t worry about that,” Alex said. “I need you to go over to the library and look up everyone the ghost has killed. All but one of them are society swells so they’ll be in Who’s Who.”
“What about eating?” Leslie wondered.
“I’ve got fifty bucks in my pocket right now,” Alex said. “Swing by the Waldorf on your way downtown and pick it up. I’ll leave it at the front desk for you.”
There was a long pause on the line.
“You on the level?” she asked.
Alex was shocked. Leslie had never questioned whether he was telling her the truth before. He was really going to have to make all this up to her.
“My word as a gentleman,” he said.
“Try again.”
“I swear on a bottle of twelve-year-old scotch?”
“Aw, you do care,” she said, her voice returning to its playful self. “How’d you dig up that much cash?”
Alex told her about his visit to Barton and his missing traction motor.
“When are you going to work on that?” she asked.
Alex sighed.
“Right after I figure out who kidnapped Leroy Cunningham and catch a murdering ghost,” he said.
“Good luck then. I’ll be at the library.”
Alex hung up, then went to front desk and got an envelope from the clerk. He slipped the fifty dollars into it, sealed it, and wrote Leslie’s name on it before leaving it with the man.
The widow Watson looked much better when she answered the door. Her dark eyes weren’t red, and her makeup wasn’t running. Alex had been right, she was quite pretty when properly made up.
“I was beginning to worry,” she said, inviting Alex in. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”