LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

      He smiled grimly. “Oh, I think I do.”

      “You’re new here, right?”

      “I haven’t been assigned here long, no. But I know the island. I was born here, Miss O’Brien.”

      “Ah,” she said, studying him. “Really? I’m going to guess that you’ve been away awhile. Because you should know that people like to come here and steep themselves in ghost stories, then party at the bars on Duval Street.”

      “They were drunk?” he asked.

      That seemed to give her pause. She shook her head. “No, actually, I don’t think they were.”

      “There’s a big difference between a supposed ghost and a dying man,” Dallas said. He took another drink of his coffee. It was good. Strong. Exactly what he liked and needed.

      “I might remind you, Mr. Samson, that I’m not the one who saw him. My guests told me that they’d seen a ghost, and since they were clearly terrified I did what I thought was the right thing—I gave them their money back and sent them where they’d feel safe.”

      He leaned forward, looking at her. “It’s Agent Samson, Ms. O’Brien. And while you were busy doing the right thing, weren’t you afraid yourself?”

      “Of a ghost? A supposed ghost? No.”

      He leaned closer to her. “What about the knife?”

      She shrugged. “They said he had a knife—and no, I don’t know why they thought a ghost was able to carry a real knife—and that he was about to do them in. I never saw the knife.”

      Liam returned to the table and told them, “They’re still at the hotel. I spoke to a friend at the desk. She’s slipping a note beneath the door, because they have their phones off—probably trying to get some sleep. We can stop on by when we leave here or wait to speak to them when they wake up. Hannah, the crime scene techs will probably be around for a few more hours. There’s a lot of foliage around the property, and they’re trying to find any clues—blood, broken branches, a scrap of fabric...whatever. Trying to figure out where he came from before he wound up in your yard and where the killer might have hidden.”

      She nodded thoughtfully. “We’re just a block off Duval,” she said. “I imagine...well, the backstreets here are pretty quiet once the bars close.”

      Liam nodded. “I’m going to take you up on breakfast before we go.”

      “Please do,” she said, rising. “Let me nuke it for you.” She turned to look at Dallas. “Agent Samson?”

      What the hell. He was hungry.

      “Sure,” he said. “Thank you.”

      She put the food in the microwave to heat, then set plates before the two of them.

      “Did you know who he was?” she asked. “Was he a criminal—or just a good guy who happened to be walking around carrying a bowie knife?”

      Dallas looked at her. She could also have an acid tongue when she chose.

      Liam said, “It’s a closed investigation, so I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything.”

      Hannah turned from Liam to stare at Dallas. “I see. I’m not sure how you’re going to keep a lid on things, but I guess I don’t really need an answer.”

      “Yes,” Dallas said quietly, making the decision to let her into the zone of trust. “He was a good guy walking around with a bowie knife. He was one of ours, an agent named Jose Rodriguez. Luckily he doesn’t have a wife or kids, and his parents died a long time ago in a South American coup. When the Bureau spins what happens, they’ll probably let the media think that he was a criminal—and he would have approved of that. It took him forever to get undercover. They won’t want that information getting out.”

      “I’m really sorry,” she said quietly. “And I won’t say a thing.”

      “Thanks,” he told her.

      An awkward silence reigned. Liam broke it. “Great quiche, Hannah. There’s a reason you’re known for having one of the best breakfasts in town.”

      “Glad you liked it, Liam.”

      “Very good,” Dallas agreed.

      She nodded. “Thanks.”

      “Was anyone else here?” Dallas asked suddenly.

      Hannah frowned. “What do you mean?”

      He thought she sounded a little defensive. “Exactly what I said. Was anyone else here? Do you run this place by yourself?”

      She let out a breath. “Valeriya Dimitri helps out with housekeeping, but she goes home at night. Bentley Holloway takes care of the grounds and does repairs. He works for a few other people, too, and lives in the little shotgun house next door. Neither of them is here in the middle of the night, and I called Valeriya this morning and told her to take today off because of what happened. She emigrated here from Russia about ten years ago, and she’s a lovely young woman who’s just happy to be living with her family here in Key West. And Bentley is almost as much an island icon as Fort Zachary Taylor. Neither of them would ever hurt anyone. Actually, you probably saw both of them earlier. They were out back in the alley. Valeriya was already on her way in to work when I reached her, and Bentley—well, like I said, he lives next door. The commotion probably brought him out.”

      “Bentley was the bald guy standing in the back,” Liam said to Dallas. “And Valeriya is a pretty blonde, so I doubt you missed her.” He grinned.

      “But they weren’t there when you found the body?” Dallas pressed.

      “No. I guess Valeriya decided to come see what was going on. I did tell her the cops were here and that I’d found a dead man. You can’t think her being there means anything,” Hannah said.

      “People do stop and stare at accidents,” Liam added.

      Maybe. But she and the handyman would both be worth talking to, Dallas thought. Liam caught his gaze. He was thinking the same thing.

      Just as they were swallowing their last bites, Liam’s phone rang. He answered it quickly and listened. “We’ll be right there,” he said, looking over at Dallas. “That was Shelly Nicholson. She and Stuart are up and anxious to speak with us. They’ve decided to cut their vacation short and head back to Miami.”

      “Then we need to get over to see them,” Dallas said, and stood. “Ms. O’Brien...”

      “Don’t worry, Agent Samson. I don’t intend to leave town,” she said drily.

      “Actually, I was going to say thank-you for breakfast.”

      “Oh.” A slight flush suffused her cheeks. “My pleasure,” she murmured.

      He nodded, still studying her. He hadn’t known her when he’d been a kid; he would have remembered her. Her eyes were unforgettable.

      “Please remember, don’t say anything about Jose,” he told her.

      “I don’t know anything, do I?” she asked innocently.

      He smiled. “Thanks.”

      Liam gave her a quick hug as she rose. “See you later,” he told her.

      Dallas followed him through the front of the house. The entry and parlor were large with a check-in counter created from an old telephone desk. The place was Victorian to a T and beautifully kept.

      He found himself pausing to look back. He knew that Hannah had stayed in the kitchen, but despite that, he had the feeling that he was being watched.

      “What is it?” Liam asked him.

      He shook his head and looked at his friend. “What the hell happened to the knife?” he asked.

      “Dallas,

Скачать книгу