Veiled Passages by Terri Reid Read Free Book Online Page B

the door for you.”
    “You’ll be careful, won’t you?” he asked.
    She nodded. “I promise,” she said. “I’ll get you out and I’ll be careful.  My friend, Clarissa, will help me too.  So we’ll both be careful.”
    Mr. Rupp started to fade away. “Thank you, Maggie,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
    “Bye, Mr. Rupp,” she said, waving at him. “Don’t be sad, I’ll find you soon.”
     

Chapter Eleven
    Mary slid the electronic key through the door lock and the little light glowed green.  She pushed down on the handle and after the familiar click, pushed the door open and let herself into the hotel room.  The room was incredibly spacious, even for a suite.  Mary strolled across the room and peered out the windows.  The view of downtown Freeport was expansive; she could even see the small Debate Site Park from her vantage point.
    Taking a deep breath, she turned back towards the interior of the room and concentrated on the ghost she had met the day before.  Peter…Peter Swift, she recalled.  She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to picture him, dressed, as he looked when he was still alive. Suddenly she heard the water in the bathroom running.  She slowly opened her eyes and made her way to the other side of the room.
    The door was only slightly ajar.  Mary peered in and noted that Peter was still dressed although he was definitely in the process of removing all his clothes and every shred of decency. But she couldn’t blame him, he had no idea she was here.
    Strategically turning away, she watched as the clothes piled up in the corner of the bathroom and then heard the door close.  She waited until she heard the splash of someone entering the tub and the soft whir of Jacuzzi motors before she turned around.
    A little surprised to see Peter swathed in a bath of bubbles, she studied his actions.  Nothing reflected the notion that he was inebriated.  He leaned over and manipulated the tub’s timer with no problem.  And when he leaned his head back against the tub, it was with a movement of relaxation rather than intoxication.
    The rumble of the traffic outside the hotel made it hard for Mary to hear movement on the other side of the door, so she just sat and waited to see what would happen next.
    Suddenly, Peter sat up and gasped deeply.  He placed his hand over his throat and tried to inhale, but Mary could see he wasn’t getting any air.  His arms floundered in the water as he tried to get himself out of the tub, but finally, with one last look of pure terror he sunk into the bottom of the tub.
    “See, I told you I was murdered,” Peter said, appearing next to Mary.
    Without turning, she whipped a towel off a nearby rack and handed it to him. “You need to cover yourself before we have any kind of conversation,” she said.
    “Fine,” he grumbled. “I’m covered.  But I want you to know that when I was alive, women fought over me.”
    She turned, skepticism evident in her face, and shook her head. “Yeah, well, we just won’t go there, okay?”
    He folded his arms and snorted. “I really don’t need to stand for abuse like this. I have served with a number of the…”
    “Alphabet agencies,” Mary interjected. “Yes, I realize that. But, what I don’t know is why someone would want to kill you.  And who could do it with such finesse that no one ever considered it to be murder.”
    He sighed and walked over to the tub, running his hand along the edge. Finally, he turned back to Mary. “That’s the problem,” he replied. “I was at a conference with murder mystery writers.  Any of them…well, most of them…would be able to plan and carry out a flawless execution.”
    “And how many of them would want to see you dead?” she asked.
    Turning to her, he met her eyes. “All of them,” he confessed.
    “Well, that narrows things down a bit,” she said. “Is there a way to get a list of the people who attended the conference?”
    He placed his hands