Intersections Read online

  At first, the officer on duty (ol' Red again) refused to let us see Simon. But Persephone wouldn't be turned away so easily.

  "What's your name?"

  "Officer O'Malley. James O'Malley."

  "Excellent. I'm on my way back to Manhattan to see Jack Spears. Do you know him?"

  He looked bored. "No. No, I don't."

  "Don't expect that you would, really. He's the Senior Editor at the New York Times. Owes me a favor or two. And he'd love this story." She spread her hands as though the headline materialized in the air before us. "Small Town Cops Arrest Senator's Son Because a Ghost Said So."

  That got his attention and he shifted in his seat. "Now, waitaminute—”

  Knocking her fist on his desk, she pointed behind him as though something had materialized. "And right there on the front, your picture." He glanced back as though he could see it while Seph leaned over his desk and mimed typing. "Officer O'Malley was first on the scene when the ghost appeared and, even though these types of séances have been debunked a hundred times by master magician Harry Houdini and his team - of which I'm a member, by the way - dim-witted small town cops are easily suckered."

  "Kid," he said, "is she always so mean?"

  I grinned. "Trust me, Red. You're getting off light."

  He sighed. "I don't guess it would hurt none. Follow me."

  Leading us down a short hallway, we came into an area with three small cells, each outfitted with a cot, a sink, and a hole in the floor to do your business. Simon was the only occupant. He stood from his cot when he saw us.

  "You got five minutes," O'Malley said and headed back to his desk.

  The mayor smiled. "I'd invite you in, but the place is a mess."

  Persephone reached her hands between the bars and took his. "How are you holding up?"

  "It's like a bad dream. I thought it would be over already, but the Sheriff came by earlier and..."

  "And what?"

  "The doctor confirmed it. She was pregnant."

  The color drained from Persephone's face. She pulled her hands back.

  "I didn't touch the girl! I swear. I barely knew who she was."

  Persephone shook her head. "I'm sorry. Of course you didn't. It's all just so..."

  "I know," he said and reached his hands out for hers again.

  "Do you have an alibi for the night she was killed?"

  "I was home alone. Going over the budget for our Christmas Festival."

  "Of course you were." His face dropped and she went on. "Just our luck, I mean. No one to verify you never went out."

  "No. There wouldn't have been. I have a maid, but she doesn't live with me and had already gone home for the evening."

  "Your father came to see me."

  "Oh? What did he want?"

  "He hired me to prove that Madame Nephthys is a fraud."

  Wrinkling his brow, he said: "Persephone. I know she's your sister, but—”

  "She's a fraud, Simon, and I'll prove it."

  "How? You saw what she did."

  She grinned. "Harry always says that seeing is disbelieving."

  The door at the end of the hall banged open and a short, stocky man in a crisp suit burst in. "You," he barked and pointed to Persephone. "Away from the bars. Now."

  Stepping away, she raised her hands in surrender.

  "Sheriff," Simon said. "Don't be an asshole."

  The Sheriff harrumphed. "You're a murder suspect. I'll be whatever I damned well please. Miss Gale, I take it?" He didn't even glance at me.

  "Yes."

  "I need you to come with me." He waved his hand down the hall.

  Persephone rolled her eyes and walked toward the door.

  "You too, young man." He gave me a light shove on the back.

  "Okay! Okay. I'm going."

  Leading us into a sparsely decorated office, he sat on the edge of the desk. "Close the door."

  I did.

  Persephone ran a finger through thick dust on a chair before sitting.

  The Sheriff motioned to the dust. "I'm a floater."

  "A what?" Persephone asked.

  "A floater. I travel from town to town in the county and so have a dozen offices I never use. As you can imagine, we don't have much serious crime around here. Now. You two were at the séance last night, correct?"

  "We were."

  "Tell me everything you saw."

  We related every detail of the séance, Persephone dwelling on the fact that her mother had coaxed her into performing fake séances when she lived here too.

  "And so," she finished, "as a man of the law, I'm sure you understand how serious their fraud has become."

  "Do you have any proof of fraud?"

  "Sheriff, there is no practical—”

  "Do you have any proof?"

  She folded her hands over one knee and pursed her lips. "Not yet. But I will. Trust me on that."

  The Sheriff let out a long sigh and shook his head. "My wife died about three years ago. Influenza. I was distraught when it happened. Didn't want to go on."

  I wasn't sure where he was going with all of this, but Persephone knew. She exhaled sharply and shook her head.

  "Madame Nephthys has allowed me to speak to my Carol over a dozen times since then."

  "It's a trick," Persephone said, her voice small. "They're all tricks."

  He slammed his fist down onto the desk. The sound made me jump.

  "You will not defame her in my presence." The Sheriff's fury caused his hands to shake and a vein stood on his temple. "I know for a fact that I've been speaking to my wife and I have Madame Nephthys to thank for that. Her gifts are real and I'll testify to that under oath if I have to. Do you understand?"

  "I do," Persephone said. She sounded defeated.

  "We've already confirmed everything that Caitlin said during the séance."

  "How? How can you confirm that Simon had taken advantage of the poor girl?"

  "We have a medical report."

  "Stating she was pregnant. I heard. But that doesn't prove anything."

  "We also have a witness."

  "Who?"

  He walked over to the door and opened it. "I think that's enough for now. You can go."

  I thought she would argue with him, but she simply stood and left.

  Outside the station, she lit a cigarette.

  "Well," I said. "We're at a dead end."

  "And why do you say that?"

  "He's never going to tell us anything we can use."

  "No. He's not."

  "And..."

  "And what?"

  I was afraid to say it so I just shrugged.

  "You think Simon did it now, too?"

  "I don't know. It just... It doesn't look good."

  She clicked her tongue twice. "It only looks bad because we're here. We're in a place where people want séances and cold readings and Ouija boards to all be true. But they're not, Connie. You and I know that. We simply have to prove it. And we need to start with that witness."

  "We're never going to learn who that witness was."

  She grinned and started walking down the street.

  I ran to catch up. "What? You think different?"

  "I know different. Different-ly."

  "What's your plan?"

  "I don't need one. I already know who she is."

  "How?"

  She started whistling "Anything Goes" as she turned onto a side street, marching along like she knew exactly where we were strolling.

  13

  Turns out she did. She'd used some magic back at the station. Not mind-reading magic. Simply misdirection and a little sleight of hand.

  While she spread her hands wide and made a big show of threatening O'Malley with bad press, what she was really up to was keeping him distracted. She'd taught herself at some point to read upside down as good as most people read normal and so she quickly took stock of all the notes scattered across his desk. When she got him to look away (which I swear wasn't even for a full