The locks had barely slammed home when she caught the slight movement in the doorway just across from her. "I've got fifty credits for information," she said without bothering to raise her voice. Street ghosts heard everything they wanted to hear. "If I get it, my aide and I won't have to follow through on a tip we got that there are illegal substances in the building."

"It's twenty credits just to ask. Thirty more for an answer."

"Fair enough." She dug in her pocket, pulled a single twenty chip out.

The figure that came toward her was gray. Skin, hair, eyes all the same dust tone as the street sweeping coat he wore. His voice was whisper soft, and the fingers that plucked the credit from Eve's palm did so without touching flesh.

"Do you know Patrick Murray, the floor scraper?"

"Seen him, heard him, don't know him. Dead now though."

"No, he's not quite dead." Like you, she thought, he's in some half world. But Patrick still had a chance to come all the way back. "Did you see anybody go in the club after hours this morning?"

"Seen him." The ghost's gray lips split open over gray teeth in a horrid smile. "Heard him. Don't know him."

"What time?"

"There is no time. Just day, just night. One came when it was more night than day. One came when it was more day than night."

"Two?" Her eyes sharpened. "You saw two different people go in, at two different times."

"First one rang in, second didn't."

"What did the first one look like?"

"One head, two arms, two legs. Everyone looks the same to me. Nice coat. Thick and black."

"Was he still here when the second man came?"

"They passed like ghosts." He smiled again. "One goes out, the other goes in. Then you came."

"You got your coffin up there?'' She jerked a thumb at the building.

"I should be in it now. It's too day out here."

"You keep it there." She passed him another thirty credits. "If I need you and come back, there'll be another fifty for you."

"Easy money," he said and faded back.

"Get me a name on him, Peabody. Run the building for tenants."

"Yes, sir." She climbed back in the car. "Two men. That backs Summerset's story."

"Our killer doesn't know enough about ghosts to have covered himself there. All he had to do was pass over money and promise more."

"Those types give me the creeps." Peabody punched in the request, waited for her ppc to search and find. "You'd think they could walk through walls, the way they look."

"You fix on Tranquility for a few years, you'd look the same. File all the names in case our ghost decided to load up his coffin and find another graveyard. Then contact McNab, have him meet us at the house."

"McNab?"

"Don't be pissy," Eve ordered, engaging wipers as a thin, wet snow began to fall. "I need Summerset's 'link logs checked." She engaged the car 'link again and contacted the hospital for an update on Murray.

"He could come out of it," she said as she drove through the gates of her home. "There's more brain wave activity, and he responded to VR stimulus. His wife's with him."

She barely stopped the car when she noted another vehicle scooting down the drive behind her. Her initial annoyance at the interruption faded when she recognized the car.

"Feeney."

He got out of his car, his skin pink from the Mexican sun, his clothes rumpled, his wiry red hair topped by an incredibly silly straw hat.

"Hey, kid." He dragged a box out of the car and, nearly staggering under its weight, carried it toward her. "Just got back, and the wife wanted me to bring you over a little thank-you for lending us the place. Some place."

He rolled his eyes. "Peabody, you gotta tag Dallas for a couple weeks there. It's a frigging Mex palace right on a damn cliff. You can be lying in bed, reach out the window and pluck a mango right off the tree. Got a pool the size of a lake and a droid to do everything but zip your fly in the morning. You going to let me in? This thing weighs fifty pounds if it weighs an ounce."

"Sure. I didn't think you were coming back till…" She trailed off when she reached the door and realized today was the day he was due back. "I lost track."

He dumped the box on a table in the foyer, rolled his shoulders. "So, what's new?"

"Nothing much. I got three homicides and an attempted, connected. Mutilations. Guy contacted me personally, set it up as a game with religious overtones. Last victim's in a coma, but will probably pull through. Roarke knew all the victims back in Dublin and Summerset just bounced to the top of the suspect list."

Feeney shook his head. "Never changes. I tell you I never turned on the screen for two weeks for anything but sports and – '' He stopped and his droopy eyes went wide. "Summerset?"

"I'll fill you in while we do the search. McNab's on his way over."

"McNab." Feeney danced after her, ditching his straw hat and his vacation mood as he went. "EDD's working with you on this?"

"Our guy's an electronics and communications whiz. He's got a high-end jammer among his toys. McNab's been cutting through the layers, and he managed to nail the source. But we haven't found his hole."

"McNab. The boy's good. I've been bringing him along."

"You can talk techno-jazz when he gets here. Right now I've got a straight search – and a 'link log to verify." She paused at the entrance to Summerset's quarters. "You want in, or do you want to go back and find your party hat?"

"I'll just call the wife and tell her I won't be home for supper."

Eve grinned. "I missed you, Feeney. Damned if I didn't."

He grinned wickedly. "The wife took six hours of video. She wants you and Roarke to come over for dinner next week, and the show." Wiggling his brows, he turned to Peabody. "You come too."

"Oh, well, Captain, I wouldn't want to horn in on – "

"Stow it, Peabody. If I have to suffer, you have to suffer too. That's chain of command."

"Another incentive," Peabody decided, "for increasing my rank. Thank you, Lieutenant."

"No problem. Recorder on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve; Feeney, Captain Ryan; Peabody, Officer Delia entering quarters of Summerset, Lawrence Charles, standard search for evidence."

She'd never been inside Summerset's private domain. It was just one more surprise. Where she'd expected the stark and utilitarian, straight edges and minimal style, was a lovely living area with soft, blending tones of blue and green, pretty trinkets on tables of honey-hued wood, generous, giving cushions, and an air of welcome.

"Who'd have figured it?" Eve shook her head. "You look at this and picture a guy who enjoys life, even has friends. Feeney, take the communications center, will you. Peabody – That'll be McNab," she said when the buzz sounded from the recessed house monitor on the south wall. "Clear him through, Peabody, then I want you to start in here. I'll take the bedroom."

Four rooms spread out from the living area like ribs of a fan. The first was an efficient office and control center where Feeney rubbed his hands together and dived into the equipment. Opposite that was an equally efficient kitchen that Eve ignored for now.

Two bedrooms faced each other, but one was doubling now as an artist's studio. Eve pursed her lips, studied the watercolor still life in progress on the easel. She knew it was fruit because she saw the huge bowl with overflowing grapes and glossy apples on the table under the window. On the canvas, however, the fruit was having a very bad season.

"Don't quit your day job," she murmured and turned in to his bedroom.

The bed was big, with an elaborate pewter headboard that twisted into vines and silvery leaves. The duvet was thick and spread neatly over the mattress without a wrinkle. The closet held two dozen suits, all black, all so similar in style they might have been cloned. Shoes, again black, were housed in clear protective boxes and ruthlessly polished.