Greywalker - Kat Richardson [18]
“Sure. Whatever you suggest.”
He frowned in concentration, poured dark tea into one of the glasses, measuring it against some spot on the filigree cage, then added hot water with equal precision.
He handed me the glass, saying, “Skelly sent you to us because you’ve been seeing strange stuff. So tell me about the strange stuff.”
I put up a hand. “Wait a minute. Let’s start with some background. I don’t know anything about you except that a doctor who seems a bit . . . unconventional suggested I talk to you. How can you help me? Just who or what are you?”
“Well, I’m a part-time linguistics professor at the U and I do some other research on the side—which is how I met Skelleher and my wife, Mara. I translate text to and from Russian, Czech, Polish, German, and a few other languages, and do related work in comparative religion and philosophy. I was a philosophy major once, and I got interested in comparative religion and started studying languages, met Mara, and one thing led to another. . . . I used to teach religion and philosophy, too, but budget cuts . . . you know.” He shrugged.
I looked askance at him. “And what does any of that have to do with my problem?”
Danziger gestured as he explained. “Well, when you really start to tangle with religion and philosophy, you eventually run up against all the mystical stuff about death and souls, the meaning of life, burden, responsibility, unity—all the really big, freaky topics. And then you have two choices: just jump over it and go on to the parts that don’t bend your brain, or dive into the bizarre and try to run truth to ground. I guess I just like wrestling with the weird stuff and I ended up writing a book about it. So now I’m ‘the ghost guy.’ ”
I scowled. I had no wish to be an experiment in flaky science. “So you’re some kind of parapsychologist.”
He shook his head. “I’m just a strange type of philosopher, really. I don’t know any ghosts, personally, except for Albert over there,” he added, pointing into a corner.
I looked, saw nothing, turned my head and saw a slender, weedy shadow just inside the door. It was not particularly thick, but it had baleful cat eyes that glared at me. I started.
“What is that?” I demanded.
Danziger smiled. “That’s Albert. We’re pretty sure he was a boarder in this house during Prohibition and died here from drinking doctored gin. Poor old sot.” Danziger shook his head and smoothed a hand over his hair, dispelling the last of the static so his dark hair flopped down and made him look like a half-wilted dahlia. “Anyhow, you can see him and that’s good. I can’t. I only know he’s there because I’ve figured out the cold spot. Fakers always look where I point and swear he’s right there.”
The door opened beside the ghost. A tall, slender woman with flame red hair stepped into the study. Her eyes were slanted and green as a cat’s, and she would have been stunning even if she had not gleamed from within. I doubted she’d been ill a day in her life.
She cocked her head as if to listen to the dark shape, then gave a rueful smile and shook her head. She spoke in a fluting Irish voice. “That’s lovely, Albert, but you’re blocking the door, aren’t ya? Now, shoo.” She flipped her hands at the shadowy form and it wafted away.
She turned to look at me and her eyes sparkled. “You must be Harper. I’m Mara. I see you’ve met Albert, our polygraph.” She walked across to the desk and leaned down to kiss Danziger on the cheek. “Hello, love. Sorry I’m late. Brian was being obstinate. Would you pour me some tea?”
She plumped down onto the other end of the sofa with a biscuit and a glass of tea.
Danziger pointed at my own glass. “You should drink your tea while it’s still hot, and try the biscuits and jam. The jam goes in the tea, not on the biscuits.”
I mucked about with my tea while Danziger picked up a biscuit and studied it, frowning, as he spoke. “I did some reading this morning based on what you told me last night, and Mara and I discussed it. Have you been in some kind of accident recently?”
Startled, I put down my tea, untouched. “Yes. Do I still