Unless hed been helped.
Fascinating though the historical events were, Tyler was more interested in Julians death and the deaths of people who had died closer to the present. Thered been several of those, starting in the late 1970s.
One of the docents, Bill Hall, had been found at the foot of the staircase. While closing up at night, hed apparently tripped and fallen down the stairs, landing at an angle that had snapped his neck.
Eight years ago, a college student, Sam Daily, had told friends he was going to break into a historic house and rearrange a few items as a joke. It hadnt gone so well; hed tried to dismantle the alarm and a wire had shorted out, sending electric volts shooting through him. Hed been discovered on the ground near the back door the following morning.
Tragically the joke had been on him.
Just three years ago, another of the older docents or tour guides, Angela Wilson, had been found dead in Tarletons study. Shed been sitting in the same chair, in the same position, as Julian Mitchell. She had died of a massive heart attack.
One death from a fall, one from electrocution and one from what might well be a perfectly natural cause for someone of Angelas age, a heart attack.
And now a man dead of a bayonet shoved through his throatas if hed set his own chin atop it for the blade to run through.
Tyler drummed his fingers on the desk.
He was here because of Adam Harrison. Adam had a love of and connection to various historic properties. Technically, the Krewes were Adams teams, so they went where Adam Harrison requested they go. Everything that had happened here could have been natural or accidental.
But Adam had a knack of knowing when things werent right.
Add in the trashing of the small office in the attic.
Someone had been looking for something. What? And why?
And how did any of it relate to the fact that Artie Dixon was in a coma?
Tyler pulled out his cell phone and called Logan Raintree, one of his best friends, a fellow Ranger at one time, and now the head of their unit.
Is it somethingor nothing? Logan asked. Do you need the rest of the Krewe?
Something, Tyler said. And yes. Id like you to come here.
Any idea as to whats going on?
Nope. But the house has been closed down for the interim. I think we should set up here.
Well be in tomorrow night, Logan promised him.
Tyler hung up and put through another call. When he reached Adam Harrison, he asked about keys to the attic.
The board members all have a key, and so does Allison. Theres also a key in the small pantry or storage room, where the employees have their lockers and keep their street clothing. Its always hung on a peg there.
Is the pantry locked during the day? Tyler asked.
No, not from what I understand. The employees slip in and out when they have a break or need to get to their own belongings. No member of the public goes into the house without a docent or tour guide, and theyve never had trouble before.
Ill see if that key is still in place, but a lot of people have keys. They could have been usedor copied at a previous date.
How are you doing?
I lost my guide, Tyler told him.
I can call someone else.
Tyler hesitated. Maybe that was the right thing to do. Bring in someone who hadnt discovered a dead friend at the house. Someone who wasnt derisive of the investigation.
But he realized he didnt want anyone else.
And as far as her attitude was concerned It didnt matter if you believed the world was round or not, because it was round regardless of what you believed.
Eventually, Allison would accept the fact that something existed in the Tarleton-Dandridge House.
And as Todd had suggested, it liked her.
Thanks, Adam. Ill move along on my own for a bit, see if Ms. Leigh begins to show some interest. Im sure her heart is in the right place. Ill give her more time. The rest of the team will be in tomorrow night, and well see where we are then.
Adam agreed with him and they hung up. Tyler immediately went to the guides room; the key hung on a peg there, so access to the attic was ridiculously easy. He returned to the study, picking up the folders that held information on the board members. Pausing, he looked at the painting of Beast Bradley.
Hed been perceived so differently by the two artists.
He stood, fascinated by the painting, and walked over to it. A Plexiglas cover protected it and he saw that, apparently from the time it had been hung, it had resided on that wall to avoid direct sunlight.
He tried to read the signature of the artist and was surprised to realize that the name was T. Dandridge. He squinted to find the date; the painting had been done in 1781. The year the Colonies had finally achieved their independence.
He smiled. Yes, the artist of this particular likeness had truly loathed his subject.
Tyler left the study and went up the stairs, back to Lucy Tarletons room, and looked at the painting there. The signature appeared to be Josiah Bell. The work was dated 1777.
Thoughtful, Tyler returned to the study once more. A truism in life was that everyone perceived others in their own way. Where one person saw kindness in someone, another saw weakness. Where one saw cruelty, another saw strength.
Perception. Always nine-tenths of reality.
He smiled. Sadly, he was certain, Allison Leigh saw him as an oversize quack. A pretentious hick.
Amused, he considered his own perceptions of her. A woman with a lot of pride and yet humility. A lover of truth and honor, but stubborn and determined. Stunning with her pitch-dark hair and bright blue eyes, but dismissive of her looks. The woman was a scholar, after all, and took her work seriously.
He hoped shed come around. There was just something about hersomething in the helpless look shed given Todd, something that was kind and empathetic.
And despite the situationdespite her exhausted, annoyed and bewildered behavior toward himhe still found hersensual.
The ghost likes her, Todd had said. Yes, sometimes ghosts watched a person, and just as the living did, they knew who they likedand who they didnt.
He stared at the painting. It didnt move, but Todd was right. The eyes had been well-painted, giving the illusion that the painting could watch someone moving about the room.
He leaned back in his chair. I am here, he said softly.
He was greeted by silence. There were secrets in this house, but so far, the ghostly inhabitants were guarding those secrets.
Some of his coworkers had known from the time they were children that they had an extra sense, whether they saw it as a gift or a curse. Theyd had grandparents or friends whod appeared at their own funerals or talked to them in the middle of the night, or even showed up in other places.
Tyler, however, had no clue he had any unusual abilities until hed done a stint in the service and then come home to become a Texas Ranger. Hed loved stories about the Rangers all his life; becoming a Ranger had been a dream. It was when hed been a Ranger for a year that hed first experienced the unusual. The situation had been especially poignant. Drug runners had kidnapped their mules younger sister. The older sister had become a heroin addict, and when she hadnt been able to produce the money theyd wanted quickly enough, theyd killed her with an overdose. The younger sister had been left to rot at the bottom of a cistern out on the dusty Texas plain. A desperate, state-wide search had been instigated to find the seventeen-year-old. Tyler was standing in the middle of the sprawling ranch house where the drug runners were based when the older sister, pathetic, shaking and twitching, had appeared to him, begging him to help.
He thought hed been drinking too much; he tried to tell himself that he wasnt seeing what he was seeing. She followed him. She was next to him even when he was with other officers. She didnt know where her sister was, but he had to help her, she said.
He was trying. He was trying so damned hard.
He stayed on his shift for several extra hours, searching the house, the barn, the stables, everywhere. He headed back to a bar for the night and discovered the dead woman on the stool next to him. He went home and she invaded his bedroom.
The next morning he got up and joined the search again, quizzing his ghost relentlessly about the property.
In the end, he found the younger sister in the cistern. He found her aliveshaken and dehydrated, but alive. His crying, grateful ghost left him, and for months afterward, he wondered if the pressure of the case hadnt made him delusional.
Then hed walked into his office one day to see an old man sitting by his desk. No one else saw this old man, who wanted Tyler to find his murderer. Eventually he did.
The poor guys son-in-law had figured he wasnt leaving the world soon enough and had helped him meet his Maker.
For a long time, hed thought he was crazy. But as he and Logan Raintree worked together, they each learned that the other saw unusual things. That they both did. When Logan was approached by Jackson Crow, head of the first Krewe, and then Tyler was asked to join, as well, he felt it was the right thing to do. And it had been. Theyd solved cases. Saved lives.
And they uncovered the truth.
Hed also learned that not all ghosts walked over to a man and started up a conversation. Some chose to speak only to certain people.
Just like the living did.
He shook off his memories and returned to the information on the four board members who ran the private Old Philly History Corporation.
Nathan Pierson, forty-five, real estate broker by day, financially comfortable with excellent stock investments.
Sarah Vining, fifty-one, philanthropist, wealthy due to an oil inheritance.
Cherry Addison, forty-three, a direct descendent of the Tarleton-Dandridge family on the maternal side, a former model and sometime actress with family money. Married to an artist of increasing renown.
Ethan Oxford, seventy-two, lawyer and politician.
He needed to meet them all. The best way to do that might be to call an impromptu board meeting.
Tyler realized he wasnt giving the attention he should to the folders. He rose and stretched. As he did, he thought he heard something from the rear of the house.
He left the study, looking at the rooms and the elegant entry as he walked to the front door. Nothing seemed to have changed. He strode through the rooms and then to the back door, unlocking it to step outside.
The moon was waning, but it still seemed to be full. And beneath that light, in the middle of the yard between the kitchen and the stables, he saw a horse. A majestic animal, huge, black and sleek.
He walked over to the horse and the animal gazed at him. He felt a cold sensation as a large black head nuzzled his chest. He stroked the cool air, seeing the animals dark eyes and fine brow.
Hey, fellow, still pounding the beat, eh? he murmured.
The horse whinnied but couldnt answer any questions for him. A ghost horse couldnt speak any more than a living one could. But he was encouraged. If the horse was here, the house itself was opening to him.
He heard another soundwhining. He glanced down. There was a dog by his feet. a hound, large and tawny in color, with huge brown eyes that looked up at him trustingly. He hunkered down to touch the dog, feeling air, but aware that the hound knew it was being stroked. Thank you, boy. Thank you for coming to me, he said softly. If I can help, I will.
He was so involved with visions of the family creatures that he was startled when his phone rang.
Montague, he said quickly, grinning to himself. The ghost hound had pushed himnothing but a blast of air or imagination, but it had almost knocked him over.
Agent Montague, its Allison Leigh. Ive, uh, had a nap. If you want to talk, Im willing.
Ill be right by to get you, he said.
* * *
Allison had managed to convince herself that she was totally sane; she was just under intense pressure.
And she was going to do the sane and intelligent thing. See a shrink.
Annette Fanning sat on a stool at the counter, looking at her with concern.
She was grateful to Annette. Her friend had arrived just as shed come to, and when shed let Annette in and continued to run through her house searching for a sign that someone had been there, Annette had kept quiet and helped. Now, she stared at Allison.
Youre making more tea? What you need is a good shot, Annette told her sagely. And if you wont have one, I will. Youd barely gotten off the floor when I got here. You could have hurt yourself! I still dont understand what happened. You saw someone in your house, or you think you saw someone?
I dont think anyone was really here. Im sure Im just mourning Julian, which is something I wasnt able to do before. I mean, I found him, and then the rest of the night I was with the cops and at the station and back at the house, and then we found the office trashed....
You need a good shot of whiskey, Annette said again, getting up and going to the cabinet.
I dont want any whiskey. I just called that agent and said Id go out with him.
Now thats a plan. Hes really hot-looking, Allison.
Allison frowned at her. I dont mean go out in that sense. Im going to answer questions for him and tell him about people. Its not a date.
Thats a pity, Annette said. She was tiny and blonde and struggled to reach the bottle shoved at the back of the cabinet. You should get a real life, you know. You cant spend your life in the past.
I dont spend my life in the past, Allison said, getting the bottle for her. And I dont want a shot, really.
I doreally! Annette accepted the whiskey bottle and poured herself a measure. You havent gone out since you were dating Peter Aubrey, right? I thought you two were great together.
When he was clean, we were great. I cared about Pete and it was fun being with him. But I didnt have the power to change him. I picked him up from various gigs three times when his friends called to say hed passed out and needed help. And I went back to him twice when he said hed kill himself if I left him. I learned. It has nothing to do with mehe has to find a way to face his demons. I went to Narcotics Anonymous and learned that I cant change him. Only he can do that. If he ever gets cleaned up, goes into rehab and is serious about it, Ill consider seeing him again, Allison told her. Im not antisocial. Im not lonely. And now is not the time to worry about my social life. Julian is dead, Annette, and the house is in the middle of some investigation.... She let her voice fade away; Annettes big brown eyes were moist again.
I still cant believe it, Annette said. I cant believe that Julians dead.
Im sorry, Annette, I didnt mean
No, no, I know. She let out a long sigh. I called Nathan to find out if the board knew anything about funeral arrangements but no ones heard anything. The family wants the body shipped back to Indiana, but the morgue isnt going to release him untiluntil whatever, I dont know. There are still tests being done, I guess. Do you think hed been drinking or that he was high or something? This is all so mysterious. Oh! Nathan did say hed make sure we have a memorial in the next few weeks, no matter what. Julian had a lot of fans in the city.