“Jessy, he may be able to get Tanner Green to talk. And if Green talks, maybe we can find out how Indigo is involved in all this.”

She shook her head. “What is it with that place?”

“I’m still not sure, but the pieces are starting to fit. An ancestor of mine was killed there, and so was Ringo–both of them in the same shoot-out. This morning, your grandfather told me that you two had an ancestor who was there at the same time.”

“Oh?” she said coolly. “Was he a bad guy or a good guy?”

“He was a piano player.”

“A piano player?”

“Yeah. And no, I don’t know how he fits in. I just know that you’re in danger, and that whoever killed Tanner Green is probably the same person who ran down Rudy Yorba, and somehow, everything is tied to Indigo.”

She eased back in her chair, staring at him. “I think…”

“What?”

She shook her head. “I think I’ve lost my mind.”

“You haven’t.”

She poked at her salmon with a vengeance. “Where the hell does Emil Landon fit into all this?”

“I don’t know.”

“So where do we go from here?” she demanded.

“I’ll keep investigating until I find out what’s going on.”

She shook her head. “No way am I letting you push me out of this investigation. Thanks to you, I’ve had to face the fact that I see ghosts. I may even be making friends with a dead man in a ten-gallon hat and spurs. Don’t think that you’re not going to inform me of every move you make.”

“All right, here’s what’s happening next,” he told her, pushing his own food around on the plate. “We’re going to the Big Easy, where we’re going to go to the stage manager and find out what happened yesterday. Then I’m going to leave Ringo to watch over you, and I’m going to have a discussion with Emil Landon. Next I’m going to head over to the Sun to chase down your friend the pit boss, Darrell Frye, and find out why he conveniently managed to go on break just when a murdered man came stumbling into the building. Then, if there’s time, I’ll call Jerry Cheever and find out if he’s got any new info. And maybe I’ll drop in on Doug Tarleton—he’s the medical examiner. Also, there’s a young woman in the crime lab who has been very helpful, so I can take the opportunity to catch up with her.”

“Wait a minute. I never said Darrell was my friend. And I think you’re way off base if you really do suspect him. He just wants to lure me over to the Sun so he can climb the corporate ladder.”

“And I hope you’re right. Anyway, while I’m doing all that, Ringo can hang out with you, and maybe see something, hear something…”

So much for a nice lunch, he thought.

“We should go,” she told him. “You do know that I’m not entirely incapable, right? I’m smart, and I know how to be careful.”

“I do know that. But, Jessy, everyone is vulnerable, and you haven’t been trained in self-defense nor do you carry a gun. It won’t hurt to have someone—even a ghost—there to help if help should be needed.”

She digested that, then nodded stiffly. “All right. Point taken. But I will be going with you to talk to my stage manager.”

“Not a problem,” he told her, and signaled the waiter for the check.

“Here’s the thing,” she told him. “I’ve already been crushed by a dying man who bled all over me. I’ve seen ghosts. And maybe I am in danger. So I don’t want you keeping anything from me, anything at all. And you don’t have a plan, we’ll have a plan. I’m not a delicate flower. This is my life, and I intend to be just as involved in saving it as anyone else.”

He stared back at her, trying not to smile, glad to see her anger and her courage.

He just didn’t want her so courageous that she forgot to respect her fear—not to mention logic and self-preservation.

“Well?”

He let himself smile then. “It’s a plan,” he told her.

They rose, and he rested his hand on her back as they left the restaurant. He heard the jingling of Ringo’s spurs as they neared the car.

“Shotgun, if you don’t mind,” Jessy said to Ringo.

Ringo laughed, catching Dillon’s eyes, and slid into the back.

12

When they got to the Big Easy, Ron Pearl was actually up in the rigging, checking the machinery that controlled the sail that had fallen. He saw Jessy with Dillon and called down to tell them that he would just be a second. A moment later he was on the ground, facing them.

He was an agile man of about fifty, and he’d been in Vegas working on shows forever. He’d done it all, worked props and sets, even acted on occasion. His delight, however, was in managing a cast and all in the technical details that went into a show. Jessy had worked with him before, and she adored him.

“Hey,” he said. “I’m Ron Pearl. And you’re…?”

“Dillon Wolf. Jessy told me what happened. What went wrong?” Dillon asked.

“I actually called the cops about this, because I think we had a prankster up in the rafters. Someone who lost big in the casino and wanted to shut us down, put management out some money themselves,” Ron said, looking at Jessy. “I’m hoping it was a prank, anyway, and they didn’t know anyone was down there. So the cops came and took some prints off a backstage door, but I don’t know how much that will help. There were some weird scuff marks up there, too, and they took some pictures. They’re still checking it out, and I’ve made sure everything’s been resecured and is totally safe. I put a security guy up on the catwalk today, just to make sure nothing goes wrong.”

Jessy noticed that Dillon didn’t look entirely satisfied. “Mind if I take a look for myself?”

Ron started to frown; the rafters could be dangerous, and Dillon wasn’t one of his own. But Dillon didn’t give him a chance to protest. He leaped on stage and started climbing the rigging as if he’d been trained by Cirque du Soleil.

“Where the hell did you find him?” Ron asked Jessy.

“He found me,” she said with a shrug.

A few minutes later Dillon rejoined them on the ground. “It’s got a safety catch. Someone had to undo it on purpose.”

Ron stared at Dillon, clearly worried.

“Shit. I guess it’s a good thing the cops are on it. I don’t suppose you’re hanging around for the show?”

“No, he’s not,” Jessy answered for him. “He’s busy. He has a lot of things to do.”

“Well, see you later, then,” Ron said. “I’ll let the security guy know to be extra vigilant. Jessy, you ought to be back in costume and makeup.”

“I’m going right now,” Jessy said. “I’ll see you later,” she told Dillon coolly as she passed.

“I’ll be back,” he assured her.

“Take your time,” she said. “I can keep myself busy.”

“Good-looking guy,” Ron told her as soon as Dillon was out of sight.

“He is that,” she agreed.

Jessy headed backstage to her dressing table. April was already dressed and almost finished with her makeup. “Hey, there. Did you hear? Someone really was messing with the rigging.”

“Yes, I heard. But they’ve added security. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Go figure,” April said as she powdered her nose. “I was afraid to be a flight attendant. Who would have thought you could be in danger doing a kids’ pirate show?”

She left, ready to take her position backstage. They would be opening the doors soon.

Jessy followed her a few minutes later. She shifted the curtain slightly to look out to the audience. She could see kids filing in, along with a number of adults. She looked past them to the glass partition separating the theater from the lobby.

Grant Willow, one of the security guards, was at the door, watching the last people filing through the door. Next to him, Tanner Green was standing with his face pressed to the glass.

Behind Green, leaning against the far wall, one leg cocked for support and arms crossed over his chest, stood Ringo Murphy, keeping an eye on the proceedings.

He saw Jessy peeking out from behind the curtain and lifted his hat to her.

Oh, Lord, she thought. This was crazy. She was being haunted by one ghost and guarded by another.

“Places!” Ron called, and she stepped back, ready to make her entrance as Bonny Anne, queen of the pirate ship Treasure.

Once again, Emil Landon was waiting in his office, anxious to see Dillon.

“Well? Have you found out what’s going on?” Emil asked impatiently. “What have the cops found over at the Sun? Someone over there is guilty, has to be,” Emil said. “And I’m sick of holing up in here, afraid to go out.”

Hugo Blythe was just outside the door, Dillon knew. He had been surprised to find that other than the big bodyguard and the boss, the penthouse was empty. Not even the huge-breasted secretary had been in sight.

“The latest attack took place right here in your own casino,” Dillon told him.

“What?”

“There was an incident at the pirate show yesterday,” Dillon told him.

Emil Landon stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “You think that was an attack? It’s a kids’ pirate show. Some joker broke in and messed with the set. Nothing was broken, so what’s the big deal?”

“The ‘big deal’ is that one of your players could have been seriously injured,” Dillon said coldly.

Landon bristled at Dillon’s comment. “Don’t go mistaking my words for a lack of concern. I had the incident investigated immediately, but that’s all it was—an incident. That actress should have been offstage with everyone else by then, so no one could possibly have meant to hurt her or anyone else. This was probably some bored kid’s prank. What the hell does it have to do with someone being after me?”