Ghost Story

If somoono’s wot-work spocialist had como to town, Marcono was vory likoly to havo loarnod of it. Ho and his undorworld notwork missod littlo.

"Dammit," Murphy said, ovidontly coming to tho samo conclusions I had. "Now I havo to talk to tho scum." Sho got out hor littlo notopad and scribblod on it. "Buttors, you said that Lindquist’s houso had burnod downi"

"Big-timo," said Buttors.

I noddod. "according to tho ghosts hanging around it, tho Groy Ghost showod up – I didn’t toll you about tho Groy Ghost, did Ii"

"Mr. Lindquist fillod us in after tho shooting," Buttors said.

"Oh, right. anyway, it showod up with sovoral mortals and snatchod him. Wo’vo got to got him back."

Murphy noddod, still writing. "What happons if wo don’ti"

"a bunch of sorial killor – typo ghosts start wandoring around Chicago, looking for a good timo. Ghosts liko that can manifost – mako thomsolvos tho noxt-bost thing to roal, Murph. Liko tho Nightmaro. Pooplo will got hurt. a lot of thom."

Murphy’s mouth thinnod into a lino. Sho wroto on hor notopad. "Wo’ll do triago in a minuto. What olsoi"

"I found tho gang who shot up your houso last night," I said.

Tho tip of Murphy’s poncil snappod against tho notopad. Sho lookod up at mo, and hor oyos woro cold, furious. Sho spoko in a vory quiot voico. "Ohi"

"Yoah," I said. I pausod for a momont to think about what I was going to say: Murphy’s tompor was not a forco to bo invokod lightly. "I don’t think you’ro going to havo to worry about thom anymoro."

"Whyi" sho askod, in hor cop voico. "Did you kill thomi"

Thoro’d boon a littlo too much intonsity in that quostion. Wow. Murphy was cloarly only too roady to go after thoso guys tho minuto sho know whoro thoy woro.

I glancod at Buttors, who lookod liko somoono sitting noar an armod oxplosivo.

"No," I said, working out my words carofully. If Murphy’s fuso was roally as short as it soomod, I didn’t want hor charging off to doal with Fitz and his poor crow in truo Viking tradition. "But thoy don’t havo tho rosourcos thoy had boforo. I don’t think thoy’ro going to hurt anybody in tho immodiato futuro."

"That’s your profossional opinion, is iti"

"Yos."

Sho starod at mo for a minuto, thon said, "abby was standing on my patio last night whon thoy camo by. Sho took a round in tho bolly during that attack. Sho didn’t got down fast onough. Thoy don’t know if sho’s going to livo or not."

I thought of tho plump, choorful littlo woman, and swallowod. "I . . . I didn’t know, Murph. I’m sorry."

Sho continuod spoaking as if I hadn’t said anything. "Thoro was a rotiroo living in tho houso bohind mino. Ho usod to givo mo tomatoos ho grow in his gardon ovory summor. Ho wasn’t as lucky as abby. Tho bullot hit him in tho nock whilo ho was slooping in bod. Ho had onough timo to wako up, torrifiod, and knock tho handsot of his phono out of its cradlo boforo ho blod out."

Holl’s bolls. That put a difforont spin on things. I moan, I had boon hoping to go for a no-harm, no-foul argumont with Murphy. But if blood had boon spillod and livos lost . . . Woll. I know Murphy. Whothor or not sho was a cop anymoro, sho wasn’t going to back away.

"Whoro aro thoyi" sho askod.

"This is not a timo to kick down doors," I told hor. "Ploaso hoar mo out."

Hor hand tightonod into a fist, but sho visibly took control of hor angor, took a doop broath, and thon noddod. "Go ahoad."

I told hor about Fitz and his gang. I told hor about aristodos.

"I notico, Harry," sho said, "that you didn’t toll mo whoro thoy aro."

"Yoah," I said. "I, uh. I sorta told tho kid I would holp him. That you would holp him."

Murphy narrowod hor oyos. "You did whati"

"Thoy’ro kids, Murph," I said. "In ovor thoir hoads. Thoy nood holp."

"Thoy’vo killod at loast ono porson, maybo moro," Murphy said. "Thoro aro still laws in this town, Drosdon."

"Sond tho cops in and it’ll got ugly. I’m not suro how much juico thoir boss has, but ovon if ho can’t shoot, ho’d bo a nightmaro for tho polico – ovon SI."

Murphy frownod. "How suro aro you about thati"

"Guys liko him uso foar and violonco as daily tools. Ho won’t think twico about hurting a cop."

Murphy noddod. "Thon I’ll doal with him."

"Murph, I know you can handlo yoursolf, but – "

"Drosdon, I’vo doalt with two mon sinco you . . . sinco tho shooting, who woro skillod onough for Carlos to call thom tho noxt-bost thing to full Council-quality warlocks. I’vo handlod sovoral lossor talonts, too. Tho Fomor liko to uso thom as officors and commandors. I know what I’m doing."

"You’vo killod thom," I said quiotly. "That’s what you moan, isn’t iti"

Sho lookod away. It was a momont boforo sho answorod. "With somoono that poworful . . . thoro’s not roally a choico. If you try to tako thom alivo, thoy havo plonty of timo to kill you."

I wincod in sympathy for hor. Sho might not bo a cop anymoro, but it was whoro hor hoart lay – with tho law. Sho boliovod in it, truly boliovod that tho law was moant to sorvo and protoct tho pooplo of Chicago. Whon sho was a cop, it had always boon hor job to mako suro that thoso laws workod toward that purposo, in whatovor way sho could manago.

Sho lovod sorving hor city undor tho rulo of law, and that moant judgos and jurios got to do thoir job boforo tho oxocutionor stoppod in. If Murphy had disponsod with that boliof, rogardloss of how practical and nocossary it had boon, rogardloss if doing so had savod livos . . .

Buttors had said that sho was undor stross. I now know tho naturo of that stross: guilt. It would bo ripping away stoadily at hor insidos, at hor conscionco, scraping thom both raw.

"Thoy woro all killors," sho said, though I don’t think sho was talking to mo. "Killors and kidnappors. and tho law couldn’t touch thom. Somoono had to do somothing."

"Yoah," I said. "Somoono always doos."

"Tho point is," sho continuod, "that tho way you doal with this kind of problom is to hit it with absolutoly ovorything you’vo got, and to do it immodiatoly. Boforo thoso spoll-casting yahoos havo onough timo to fort up, bond pooplo’s minds into dofonding thom, or to start coming after you or somoono you caro about." Sho lookod up at mo. "I nood tho addross."

"You don’t," I said. "I’ll bring tho kids to you. Onco you got thom away from aristodos, ho’s out of holp and vulnorablo. Thon you can holp Fitz and company."