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“The floor is open,” he said, walking back to the sitting area. He stood in front of us with crossed arms and a dour expression. This particular Master and captain of his ship did not like being out of control.
“Let’s start with the ghost,” I said. “He didn’t look anything like the photo of Mickey Riley we saw earlier.”
“No,” Catcher agreed. “If the FBI’s mug shot is accurate, and I tend to believe they’d get something like that right, that wasn’t him. And not just the wrong man—the wrong clothing, wrong style, wrong era. That wasn’t Mickey Riley.”
“But that was definitely Mickey Riley’s grave,” I said. “We’ve seen the burial records.”
“I am officially confused,” Mallory said.
She wasn’t the only one.
“No other grave was disturbed at Almshouse?” Ethan asked.
Catcher shook his head. “No.”
I tapped fingers against my knee, glanced at Ethan. “Is there any other reason to think some different ghost would be haunting Cadogan House?”
“Before Margot’s attack, there’d been paranormal activity in this House—other than our own—since we’ve been here,” Ethan said. “And I don’t know of any before we moved in, either.”
“What about the tunnels themselves?” I asked. “Any notable events there?”
“None on our watch, and the city didn’t keep separate records of tunnel incidents per se. Given how dangerous they are and how many sheer miles they cover, it’s quite possible someone died there. But we don’t know of any deaths or trauma that would prompt a disturbance like this.”
“Then we’re back to Riley,” I said. “We question all presumptions.” I looked at Catcher. “You said his remains are still with the medical examiner’s office?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Because they can probably verify whether it’s actually Riley or not.”
Catcher just blinked. “Damn. I should have thought of that.” He pulled out his phone, sent a message.
“No worries, Big Papa,” Mallory said, patting his arm. “You helped train her, after all.”
I could have lived an eternity without hearing her call him that, Ethan said.
No argument there.
“I wish Annabelle was here,” I said, and looked at Mallory and Catcher. “You know she’s barred from working outside her assigned graveyards?”
Their expressions were equally flat. Neither had much love for the Order, although they’d made some inroads there since Mallory’s Unfortunate Era of Evilness and her subsequent founding of Sorcerers Without Borders.
“Yes,” Mallory said primly. “That’s one of the post-Sorcha ‘reforms.’” Her air quotes were slow and dramatic, delivered with blue fingernails that matched her hair.
“I don’t mind the Order emphasizing specialization,” Catcher said. “I’m a weapons man, after all. But her specialization is the deceased. If she’s working that kind of magic, she should be able to work it wherever she’s needed.”
“And there’s no one on the sorcerer side to fill the gap,” Mallory put in.
Catcher’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out. “Well. We just got an invitation to visit the forensics lab.”
“Oooh,” Mallory said. “That’s creepy and interesting. I’m in.”
“In the meantime,” I said, “I’ll put on my research hat, see what I can find out about Riley and his crew and our mysterious and hateful stranger.” I felt a frisson of scholarly anticipation.
“It’s what you’re best at.”
I gave Ethan an arched eyebrow.
That I’m willing to discuss in public, he silently said. You are a woman of many talents.
