Gray Ghost Read Online Free PDF

without thinkin’ about it. There are no footprints that don’t belong to me or Mr. Vecchio. You’re not going to find any cigarette butts, or shreds of fabric, or paint scrapings on the rocks. Whatever didn’t get burned, the rain washed away. I admit I kind of avoided lookin’ too closely at that body. You observe anything about it?”
    The sheriff shook his head. “It’s hard to look at, all right. Judging by the smell, it’s been dead for quite a few days.”
    Calhoun nodded. “More like a couple weeks.”
    “You figure that by the smell ?”
    Calhoun shrugged.
    “This is not a case of self-immolation,” said the sheriff. “We got ourselves a murder.”
    “Looks that way,” said Calhoun.
    “Because?”
    “Because this man didn’t come out here alone,” said Calhoun. “There’s no boat pulled up anywhere, and we’d’ve heard at the shop if somebody found an empty boat drifting on Casco Bay in the past couple weeks. Quarantine is too far from any other island for a person to swim to, never mind swimming while carrying a five-gallon jug of gasoline with you. No empty gas can lying around, either. So I assume somebody drove him out here, and whoever it was, they at least helped him do this and took the can back with them. More likely, they drove him out here against his will and set the poor soul afire.” Calhoun paused. “Which means there were two other people with him.”
    The sheriff nodded. “Two,” he said.
    “You see?” said Calhoun.
    “I’m listening.”
    “One to drive the boat,” said Calhoun, “and one to keep this poor fella under control.”
    “Assuming our dead man did not want to be turned into a marshmallow on a stick,” said the sheriff.
    “Assuming he was murdered, you mean,” said Calhoun. “I don’t assume it. I know it.”
    “You know.”
    “I know.”
    “That damn sixth sense of yours?”
    Calhoun shrugged. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, when you think about it. You want to commit suicide, you don’t pour gasoline on yourself, light a match, and not even tell anybody or leave a note. People who set themselves on fire, they’re making a statement. You want to make some kind of statement, you don’t do it on a deserted island. And if all you want to do is just end your life, you shoot yourself or swallow some pills or jump off a bridge.”
    Now the sheriff was smiling. “What else, Stoney? You know who did it? You got this crime solved for me?”
    Calhoun shook his head. “Not me, Sheriff.”
    “You think like a cop. You know that?”
    “I guess I do. I guess I used to be some kind of cop.”
    “Before …”
    “You mean before I got hit by lightning and had everything zapped out of my brain?” Calhoun waved the subject away with the back of his hand. “All I can tell you for sure is, I’m not a cop anymore, and I don’t want to be. I just want to hang out with my dog, sleep in my cabin in the woods, listen to the birds sing and my brook gurgle, split and stack firewood, and maybe go fishing once in a while.”
    “So what’s it like, Stoney? Having your memory only go back five or six years?”
    Calhoun shrugged. “It’s all right, I guess. I got nothing to compare it to. I don’t feel much like talking about it. It’s not very interesting to talk about.”
    Dickman nodded. “Sorry. I don’t mean to get nosy.” He stood up. “Let’s go down to the boat. The Portland police should be here pretty soon.”
    Within half an hour, Quarantine Island was swarming with boats and local cops and state cops and photographers and forensics experts. The local medical examiner, a young female doctor wearing chino pants and a blue T-shirt and white sneakers, was there toting an old-fashioned black bag and looking amused by the whole thing. She was tall and gangly with a disorganized tangle of red hair and a cynical smile. Her name was Dr. Surry. Calhoun heard people calling her Sam.
    Calhoun made sure Sheriff Dickman had a ride back, and then he