Haunted Destiny (10 page)

“And Boulder lost them?”

“Not Ginny, just Hank, who disappeared, according to Boulder, gallantly telling her he had to help when he saw trouble.”

“What about Jensen Hardy?” Jude said.

“He slipped away from one of Beach's men the minute he left the ship.”

Jude let out an oath of frustration. Six. They still had six suspects—Hank Osprey, Roger Antrim, Jensen Hardy, Ralph Martini, Simon Green and Larry Hepburn. He mentioned that to Jackson, who shrugged.

“Six isn't so bad. We can watch, we can follow. If we get back to New Orleans without an arrest, we'll have resources to stay tight on every one of them. The Archangel may know we're close—which could scare him, make him go into quiet mode for weeks, months, even years. And then strike again.”

“He won't go quiet,” Jude said. “Not the Archangel. He thinks he's above us all, way better than we are—because we haven't caught him yet. But that's not what'll keep him going.”

“What will?”

“The medallions. The saints' medallions. He's on a mission. I don't know what it is. But he won't stop. Not until he has a girl for every medallion in the set.”

Jackson nodded thoughtfully. “Beach is posting a guard in the hallway all night. Clara Avery and Alexi Cromwell will be watched, I promise you.”

Jude grinned. “I believe you. And whenever possible, I promise
you
, I'll be watching them myself.”

* * *

Alexi tried to remind herself that she wasn't on a first date.

She wasn't on a date at all. Because she could see ghosts, she was suddenly on the FBI radar.

She hadn't encountered Byron Grant again, and she was surprised. She'd thought he might show up when she was playing. Maybe he'd spent himself trying to reach her and the FBI men and needed time to recoup. Or he was watching them from afar, perhaps convinced he'd already done whatever he could. It occurred to her that the next day, when the ship would be at sea again, she could take him on a tour. He might be interested in meeting a few of the other supernatural denizens of the
Destiny.

She heard a knock at the door and spun around to open it.

Jude was there.

She recognized the suit and shirt he was wearing. They could be purchased at the Haberdashing Haberdashery on the Promenade Deck.

He grimaced, as if reading her mind. “Honestly, it's better than some of the clothing I own.”

“It's a great suit,” she told him. “And you wear it well.”

“I thank you. And, I might add, you're so lovely in that red gown, the wearing of it should probably be considered illegal.”

Alexi laughed.

“Sorry. I'm out of practice. I haven't tried to be charming lately.”

She laughed again, and then they both stood there awkwardly. “I'm very sorry,” he said after a moment's silence, and she knew somehow that he was referring to Zachary's death in the war zone. “We lost many good men.”

“You served?”

He nodded. “Several years. Anyway, now I'm FBI. Glutton for punishment, huh?”

She held her head at an angle, studying him. “You have a distinct advantage, as they say. You have a dossier on me. I know nothing about you. Are you...married?”

“Divorced,” he said briefly. “Several years now. Anyway, shall we eat? Walk around? Chat with some friends?” He looked at his watch. “It's only five. You have a few hours. Passengers on the shore excursions won't be back for another two hours.”

That sounded impossible. The explosion and fire seemed so long ago—almost as if it had all happened days or even weeks ago instead of at lunchtime.

“Let's do all of the above,” Alexi responded. “I say we stroll the hallways deck by deck. Okay, not below us, since that's all engine rooms and storage. It actually takes up two decks. This one is called the Atlantic Deck.” She gestured around. “Above us is a mixture of crew and entertainment and ‘cheaper' rooms, and it's called the American Deck. And above that are some of the little cafés and lounges—such as the Algiers Saloon, where I work—and that's the St. Charles Deck. Next level is the Promenade, and then there's the Main Deck, and above
that
, the Lido Deck. We also have the Bridge Deck and the Sky Deck. And the original infirmary—not in use now, there's a nice modern one—is aft on the Promenade Deck, near the chapel. The chapel's never been updated. It's really beautiful with a stained-glass portal and carved pews and a lovely plain wood altar. The old infirmary is, of course, on the tours. I think you'll like it.”

“Because you intend to introduce me to ghosts there?” he asked flatly.

“If they're around,” she replied. “And you should definitely meet Captain McPherson.”

“Still watching over the old ship, eh?”

“Old captains die hard,” she said. Jude apparently wanted to be with her—and yet he seemed to hold himself at a distance. She suspected she knew why.

“I'm sorry,” she said.

“About what?”

“That you...that you're so unhappy with yourself.”

“I'm not unhappy with myself.”

“You're unhappy that you see the dead. It's a gift, really.”

“And you've always seen it as a gift?” he asked her.

She raised her shoulders in a shrug. “I'm one of those people who had tons of imaginary friends. Most people thought it was natural for a child. My mother didn't. She kept telling me I had to ignore my imaginary friends, and if I did, they'd go away. If I didn't, they'd make me crazy, wanting things from me. My grandmother told her once to leave me alone—that I had the ‘magic.' Grandpa had been a ‘magic man.' And it was prevalent in my family. I love my mother. I know she has whatever extra sense it is to know when she's not alone, but it terrifies her. Don't get me wrong. I love my mom. She's strong and wonderful, but seeing the dead does upset her. Some people are just...afraid.”

“I'm not afraid,” Jude said.

“Of course not. You're FBI. So you aren't afraid of anything.”

They'd started out on the Atlantic Deck, casually walking along. They'd passed a security office and were coming to the bank of elevators. He paused there and smiled as he looked down at her.

“Nope. One of the first lessons we learn is that only a fool ignores fear. I just know—or I believe—that the dead won't hurt us. They're trapped in their own form of Purgatory. Yes, I've managed to avoid admitting that I do see them. Except,” he added, “once, when I was in the service. A friend of mine was killed. They told me he'd died instantly, that he was dead before he and I talked. But I
know
I saw him, know we spoke. He saved my life by warning me about a sniper. And he had a message for his wife. I gave it to her.”

“There, you see! It's a very good thing,” Alexi said.

“You accept it so easily.”

She shrugged again. “With me, there wasn't much choice. And,” she said, smiling, “trust me, there are lots of people out there who sing and play as well as I do. Or better. I'm not putting myself down. It's just that there are more talented people in the world than there are jobs. Anyway, a number of musicians freak out, working in the Algiers Saloon with Blake and Minnie. I don't. So, in a way, my very different ‘talent' got me a job when I needed one.”

His expression was strange. His eyes were intense—and yet he still seemed distant.

Almost as if he wanted to be close to her, and couldn't quite take that step.

“But you were never able to see your fiancé,” he said.

She inhaled. The moment felt strange and painful to her. No. And she'd wanted to see Zach so badly. He'd been deployed for almost three months when he was killed. At first she could see his face clearly in her mind's eye. But with each passing day, she feared that she lost a little more of him. When she felt that way, guilt overwhelmed her, and it didn't matter how many times people told her he'd been dead for more than a year and that to honor him, she should live, pursue her own goals. And be happy. In fact, she'd promised Zach the same thing.

Did Jude fight the same battles?

“No. I've never seen Zach. He was a good guy. I wish you could've known him. He was never pretentious. He was courteous and he had a deep faith, much deeper than mine, I'm afraid, since I questioned his loss and that of so many other good people. I can't see him, but I do have faith that he went to something better, finer. My mother, in one of her strange moments of actually admitting things, said that Zach could go on, that he could leave this earth because he knew we'd all be okay, that I was strong and his family was strong. Anyway...we see those we see. I don't pretend to understand it.”

He studied her and she was surprised to experience an almost
physical
sensation.

He'd let a barrier fall, she thought.

Well, maybe.

“Shall we continue our stroll?” he asked her.

“That would be lovely, sir, lovely.”

“Ah, at the moment I'm feeling like Blake Dalton!” he told her. “With Minnie on his arm.”

He offered her his own arm, exactly as Blake would have done with Minnie.

She grinned and accepted it.

* * *

Everything seemed to be fine aboard the
Destiny.

Jude was glad to have Alexi as a tour guide; he'd already walked the ship from the highest deck to the lowest, including the engine rooms, storage area and the bridge.

But it was different, seeing the ship through Alexi's eyes, greeting the people she knew and learning bits and pieces of history.

They passed the exclusive suite, where an Egyptian prince had once stayed, and the “executive” suite, where two different United States presidents had enjoyed vacations.

On the Promenade Deck, Alexi asked, “Have you seen the chapel?

“Oh, yes,” she said, answering her own question. “Of course you have. But have you been in it?”

“Locked every time I went by,” he replied.

“You must've gone there at night. It's open during the day, and a lot of the time, you'll find the Reverend Mike in there.”

“I'd like to meet the Reverend Mike,” he told her. He recognized the name from the ship's list of crew and passengers. Since the Reverend Michael Hudson had not been a “possible suspect,” he hadn't continued to investigate him.

As they walked toward the chapel, Alexi explained that the services held there were nondenominational. The Reverend Mike was a great guy—and gave great sermons. “More like casual conversations, really.”

Jude expected someone older with graying hair.

The Reverend Mike was about forty, average height and size, with a ready smile and warm brown eyes that seemed to match the shade of his hair. He greeted them enthusiastically. Jude didn't think that Mike believed he was with the cruise lines; he didn't, however, press him about it. Instead, he told him about the chapel.

“Original to the ship. Whether times were good or bad, it was meticulously maintained. The walls are paneled in mahogany and the porthole is Tiffany stained glass. The art on the walls is from various churches worldwide. There—see?
Mother and Son
? The artist's unknown, but it's from Our Lady of Mercy, a church on the outskirts of Istanbul, which was built in 222 AD. The medieval knighting scene is from a Medici holding in Florence. The pews are cherrywood. I'm telling you, sometimes I feel like a curator instead of a minister!”

“You love the ship, I take it.”

“I do. I'm signing on for just one more contract, though. I'm planning to get married and settle down. I've been offered a position in a nondenominational church on the outskirts of the French Quarter. Besides, it's time to allow someone else, a new minister, to come aboard the
Destiny.
”

“Congratulations,” Jude said.

The Reverend Mike laughed. “A bit premature. I haven't found the girl yet, but I figured I won't find her if I don't settle down.” He smiled over at Alexi. “I did meet a few exceptional young women on this ship, but alas—not in the same frame of mind. Not looking for marriage just yet. And,” he added, “you probably know they're whispering about you and Mr. Crow all over the ship.” He turned to Jude. “If you and the other gentleman
are
executives with the company, I should tell you that my time on the
Destiny
has been excellent. Celtic American is definitely a superior cruise line.”

“That's gratifying to hear,” Jude said. Alexi had wandered over to the side, where a number of holy books were displayed, including beautifully bound versions of the Old Testament, the Bible in Latin and a King James edition of the Bible.

“Are you available every day, Reverend Mike?” Jude asked.

“Yup. All day, every day. And please, call me Mike. There's a buzzer to reach me if I'm not in the chapel or my office. But...somehow I'm not getting the feeling that you're looking for spiritual consultation.”

“Just asking about the chapel,” Jude said. “With all the valuable art here...I was thinking that, unfortunately, it might be dangerous to leave it open.”

“I keep an eye on the chapel,” Mike assured him. “So do our security people. David Beach, our head of security, as I'm sure you know, has a special affinity for the chapel. He had an uncle who served here as chaplain when the
Destiny
was being used as a hospital ship during World War II. But as far as access to the chapel goes, I have a key, David has a key and the captain does. When I'm not nearby—my office is the cabin right next door here—the chapel is locked. And only three people can open it.”

“Good to hear,” Jude said.

“So, that's really it? You two didn't steal up here in hopes of a whirlwind wedding? An elopement?” Mike asked.