City of Masks Read Free

question, Beauforte raised his hand. "And don't ask me about that. She swears it's haunted, she wants somebody to unhaunt the place. She found out about you guys on the Internet or someplace, and I was coming to Seattle on business and therefore got delegated to check you out. You want the fine print on the supernatural end of it, you're going to have to talk to her. She won't reveal the details, and anyway I'd refuse to dignify her claims by repeating them."
    "But you were going to tell me about the 'unfortunate circumstances'of your tenants."
    Beauforte checked his watch again and looked out the window as if to verify the time by the slant of light across the rooftops. "You no doubt heard about it in the news, even up here. The Templeton Chase murder?"
    "That does ring a bell, but - "
    "Well, we'd rented the house to this fella Templeton Chase - Temp popular news anchorman on a big New Orleans TV station. Pretty wife, well-off, seemed like a good tenant after Momma moved out to Lakeside Manor. So one fine day after they've been there seven years, Mrs. Chase comes home to find Temp in the kitchen shot in the head. Caused a big stir."
    "Right, I vaguely remember. So how'd it turn out?"
    "Well, later on, some dirt came out about Temp having some under-the-table connections with big crime elements, I can't remember all the details. So some people said maybe it was a whack j o b . " Beauforte's face darkened and became more guarded. "I don't know how the police are doing now, but for us, surprise, surprise - kill somebody in a house, high-profile grisly murder, your rental value really takes a dive. End result is, Beauforte House is sitting empty again, almost two years now. We cleaned it up good and did some remodeling, but after a year of advertising and no takers, we took it off the market. Can't say as I blame anybody."
    "I thought you didn't believe in ghosts."
    Beauforte cleared his throat. "Has nothing to do with ghosts. You want to sit your kids down to breakfast in that kitchen nook where somebody got his head blown off? Where they had to scrape Temp's brains off the wall?" His expectant look suggested that he'd deliberately tried to upset her with the gory details.
    Cree nodded. For a moment, inside, she felt the familiar empathic dip and swoop toward the chaos and darkness, the tortured psychic space that would surround the murder. She pulled out of the dive, looked quickly to the sunlit landscape to anchor herself. She wondered if Beauforte had seen her mood change.
    When she'd steadied, she decided to return the provocation. "Why not? Haul the corpse away, clean up the gore, even give the walls new coat of paint. Then eat your breakfast. Why not?"
    "The idea just does something to the, ah, ambience, wouldn't you say?"
    Cree shrugged. "What's the matter with the ambience? What could possibly remain to discomfort a person?"
    He opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again. Finally he grinned sourly and said, "Touche." Then the smile faded and he looked at her appraisingly. "So, Ms. Black. Would it be safe to say the 'empathic techniques' you referred to earlier are your, uh, personal area of expertise? Your primary responsibility in your firm?"
    "You're very observant." Yes, he'd caught her sudden slide and recovery.
    "Which brings up the question, why would an attractive, intelligent woman like you want, actively seek out, involvement with places and situations like that? How the hell'd you ever get into this line of work?"
    Beauforte's eyes showed he'd caught the dodge. But he nodded, accepting it, then checked his watch again and stood up. "Well, this has been one of the strangest conversations I have ever had, but I can't say it hasn't been educational. In any case, I have a meeting to get to. Ms. Black, we'll go as far as to pay for one of your preliminary reviews. Hell, maybe if we can convince my sister we've done something, that'll fix her head. Chalk it up to the placebo effect." He paused, opened his lapel