Part 7 (2/2)

Charlie Holmes wasn't what I expected.

I sort of expected an overweight man in a beat cop uniform. Something very stereo-typical. Complete with several chins and a balding head. But the man that stood up from the chair I usually sat in wasn't anything like that. He was past sixty--that much I was certain of. Though his skin was remarkably unwrinkled. Oh there were laugh lines around his eyes, which were kind and dark brown. His hair was salt and pepper, with more salt than pepper, and he was as tall as I am. He was dressed in a regular suit--nothing fancy out of Sears--and he gave me a genuine smile when he looked at me.

He offered me his right hand. ”Lieutenant Charles Daniel Holmes.” He winked. ”Most friends call me Danny, but I think in this case you should call me Charlie. Less confusing that way. And you must be the new distraction in his life. It's very nice to meet you.”

I took his hand, hesitating just a tad. Lately me touching solid human hands with my own wasn't a good idea.

And it wasn't.

The skull was there. The sign this man--this very sweet man--was going to die.

d.a.m.n it.

”Captain Cooper called me, said he was being called in. Wanted me to come sit with Danny-boy here,” he gestured to my boyfriend. ”To tell you the truth, I didn't know this had happened. Oh, I'd heard about the incident down at the warehouse--but I never thought my Danny would be involved.”

My Danny. I realized these two had a history--and in the short time I'd known Daniel he'd never mentioned a man named Charlie Holmes. And in a way I was relived at not having to tell Daniel I knew his friend was doomed to die. The skull never gave me a time and a place--it was more of a marker that the death would be soon.

Once Dags and Rhonda came in Charlie did his introduction again. He smiled at Rhonda, though I could see in his expression he wasn't quite sure what to make of her black hair, lips, eyes and nails. And then he looked at Dags--and here he really looked confused.

Rhonda spoke up as she reached in her backpack and pulled out a pen and paper to hand to me. ”Dags here is helping us on a--” she hesitated. ”A project.”

”Project?” Charlie shook Dags' hand but kept his expression wary. ”I thought Danny here said you were a bunch of amateur detectives?”

Amateur detectives? s.h.i.+t...that made us sound like the s...o...b.. Gang.

Well--I guess in Daniel's eyes we were amateur. Pooh on him though for discussing us with someone we didn't know.

Rhonda was the one to answer. ”You could say that.”

Charlie seemed satisfied. ”Sorry to surprise you like this--but I would do anything for the captain. He's a good man.”

”So what's your a.s.sociation with Detective Frasier?” Dags asked in a very professional voice.

”I was Danny's mentor--sort of his sponsor when he joined the force. I was his first partner,” he chuckled. ”And the only one to survive.”

Yeah, I remembered Daniel talking about his partner past. Not exceptionally good.

”We worked downtown for several years before he decided to go for detective. He wanted more out of the job--and he wanted a bigger salary. He was seeing that news reporter at the time and I think she was having problems dating just a cop. She wanted something with a higher profile.”

Dating what news reporter? I looked at Dags and Rhonda, but it didn't look as if they were gonna ask that question, and I was busy holding hands with my man.

”So he made detective, and we sort of lost touch. He had that problem a year ago--with the one partner that got shot--and then Cooper called about this,” he looked over at Daniel. ”I must say, I never expected him to end up in the hospital. Though Cooper did tell me the doctor said he would regain full use of his leg again. Not sure if he'll be running after any skels for a while, but knowing Danny, he'll give it a try.”

I pursed my lips. I had no idea what this man was talking about. What the h.e.l.l was a skel? And did you spell that with a C or with one or two Ls? See when you write out your sentences, those things become kinda important.

Dags said, ”Are you retired?”

”Almost. Got a part-time job working several warehouses. Night watchman mostly. Very quiet and I think I can do that for a while. I wanted to get together with Daniel and tell him.”

”You have any kids?” Rhonda asked. She looked impatient.

”One. He was adopted. Trevor. He's in j.a.pan, learning j.a.panese. Been there for several years. I'd wanted him to come home after my wife--his mother--died. But,” he shrugged. ”He's happy. And I can't deny him that.”

I looked at Daniel. Did his eyes flutter? Would he be mad if I propped them open so I could see them?

”Zoe. We need to get back to the shop.” Rhonda and Dags left the room.

I lingered a moment, looking at Daniel. I really didn't want to leave, but I was also wondering about what had happened in that loft. I was sure the second Shadow Person wasn't like the first two that tried to throw Dags and Rhonda down the stairs. But I didn't know why I thought that. They all looked the same--just shadowy little people. So--why the difference? Why were the first two mean and that third one helpful?

And how on earth could anyone think theses things were Brownies?

”Zoe.”

I looked at Charlie. He had his hands in his pockets and was looking at me with a strange intensity. ”You go. Do what ever it is you do, okay? I'll be here with Danny. I promise. And if something happens, you'll know in here,” and he put his hand over his heart.

With a nod I leaned down and gave Daniel a kiss on his cheek and left the room.

”I like him,” Rhonda said in the elevator on the way down. She was looking at me.

I nodded. I could sense he was a good man--I just--I just wanted to stay here. I gave her a half smile and the door opened into the lobby.

It looked like any other lobby with its marble and tile flooring--one half old one half new. The industrial Berber carpet and the window covered atrium. The registration and admittance desk was to the right as we moved to the front.

And then it hit me--an overwhelming need to curl up in a corner. I--I had never experienced anything like this before. It was like every fear I had, every inadequate thought about myself, every random thing anyone had ever said to me and hurt me came flooding back into my memory.

I put my hands to my head and stopped.

”Zoe? Dags? What's wrong?”

I had to get a hold of myself--cause all I wanted to do was cry. I realized I was shaking, my head down. Oh dear lord you're in a hospital with a track record. Get out before they put you in a bed!

”What the h.e.l.l...is that?” came Dags' voice.

I did manage to move away from the center of the atrium, a few steps as Rhonda pulled on my arm. But I looked up to see Dags standing in the center, his right hand to his head, his eyes closed. He looked like he was going to fall over.

Literally.

The feeling intensified as I felt winter air come through the front sliding doors. And another feeling came to me--this one stronger. A culmination of familiarity, of force and of power. But this wasn't like the power I experienced when I took that lady in the hospital--this was a ghost of something--sinister.

Of something almost primitive in its subdued rage.

Everything around me turned to gray at that moment--the injured and the well, the visitors and the doctors as well as the furnis.h.i.+ngs and the sky through the gla.s.s. It was like stepping into a black and white movie, only the shadows around me undulated and moved, oozed and laughed in whispered voices.

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