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Having a lethal supernatural entity loose was bad enough but thinking that it had its own hit list was even worse. Vic’s thought made him touch the amulet he was wearing.

“I went ahead and ran the list past your friend at the fire department,” Ross said. “He agreed that there were strange circumstances, but nothing that flagged them as arson or suspicious in a legal sense. Although I thought they were all questionable from a logical perspective.”

“Thanks.” Vic paused to drink his coffee. “At least we’ve done due diligence on them.”

Ross sat back in his chair. “I have a theory about the fire entity before it was bound. You didn’t grow up around here, but this area is known for periodic wildfires, and they can be big and dangerous. I’m sure that most of them really were natural. But what if…”

Vic looked up. “What if the fire creature added some to power up? Sure, why not? Was there any decrease in the incidence or magnitude in the years we knew the entity was bound?”

“The fires were larger back before that. Over the time we think it was bound, the fires became smaller, still very damaging, but not as huge.”

“Which tracks,” Vic said. “Once the entity is done with getting revenge, it’s likely to go back to big fires to power up. We’ve got to stop it.”

“I’m all for it. We just need to figure out how,” Ross reminded him.

“I’m working on it.” Vic ran a hand back through his hair. “Damn, but there are a lot of players involved and a lot of loose ends.”

“That’s why we get paid the big bucks,” Ross snarked before going back to his files.

Vic settled at his desk after he got a fresh cup of coffee. He had woken in the middle of the night wondering about the Dixie Mafia’s links to the gambling at the Ocean Visions Hotel and wondered if there might be someone left who had valuable information.

To his surprise, information was easier to find than he expected. Despite decades having passed, the dangerous allure of organized crime and gambling meant there had been articles written and a documentary produced. He was also pleased that most of the police files had been digitized and were available.

“Vic!” Ross’s raised voice roused Vic from his concentration, and he realized with chagrin that his partner had been calling for him.

“Sorry. I was bird dogging something,” Vic replied.

“So I guessed,” Ross said. “I wanted to know if you’d like a sandwich. I’m going to order one.”

“Yeah, sure, thanks,” Vic answered, still distracted by the thread of information he was uncovering.

Ross looked over his shoulder. “I’m guessing you found something interesting?”

“I realized that the casino and gambling elements at the hotel were connected to the Dixie Mafia. No one’s checked into those connections, and I didn’t want to miss something important.” He paused to take a swig of his now-cold coffee, grimacing at the taste.

Vic dug into his wallet and handed a couple of bills to Ross. “You know what I usually get. Chips and a soda too, please.”

“You’ve got it,” Ross assured him. “Happy digging.”

Vic went back to his research, continuing to read between bites when his sandwich arrived, jotting down notes and names.

“Find anything?” Ross asked when he got up to toss his sub wrapper in the trash.

Vic finished his last bite, wiped his mouth, and crumpled the wrapper into a ball. “A lot, surprisingly.”

“Do tell. I’m running down the mundane stuff we usually do, and compared to ghosts and witches and haunted hotels, it’s boring as hell,” Ross replied.

“Simon thinks that the Dixie Mafia’s witches may have helped to bind the fire spirit,” Vic said. “In exchange, Ocean Visions turned a blind eye to the mob running a casino and probably a prostitution ring in the hotel for years. Murphey also mentioned project Specter bringing in ‘outsiders.’”

“One hand washing the other,” Ross commented.

“And still being dirty,” Vic replied. “Even after the fire spirit was bound, the arrangement continued for quite a while. Once you start dancing with the Mob, it’s damn hard to stop.”

“No kidding.”

“A lot of the people involved on both the Mob and police sides are dead. But I found one guy, Frank Ferretti, who helped run the games and worked for the Dixie Mafia. He’s still alive and in jail. Got an appointment set up to go see him this afternoon. The warden agreed to cut him some favors if he met with me and was helpful.”

“Ferretti. I remember you mentioning him even before this whole ghost hotel thing,” Ross said. “One of the last old-time mobsters.”