ask for anything at all, he’d insisted she squelch the urge to buy him anything new.
She offered him her old bed, now dismantled and in the basement. He agreed to accept it and asked to borrow some old blankets, if she had any, to curtain off the sun in his bedroom. She said all her old linens and towels were in a box labeled “Merry’s linen closet,” and he could have those too.
That’s all he needed. Well, that and Sly needed the key to his new apartment, so he knocked on the door of apartment 2B, the super’s place.
A salty smell assaulted his nose as Jules opened the door a few inches and peeked around it.
“Hi, I think Merry mentioned I’d be moving into 1B, downstairs. She said I should see you to pick up the key.”
“Oh, yes. You must be Sylvestro Flores.” He opened the door just a few inches wider so he could shake Sly’s hand. “I’ll be back in a minute with your key.”
As soon as he was out of sight, Sly pushed the door open the rest of the way. He was still protective of his daughter’s home and wondered what Jules Vernon might be trying to hide.
The floor plan looked the same as all the apartments on the B side of the building, but Jules’s stuff was not what Sly had expected. Massive shelves surrounded the room, and on them dozens of large fish tanks held live fish. Not the pretty little tropical types found in most household aquariums—ugly saltwater fish. Sly recognized haddock, pollock, and blue fish. The most attractive were the herring and mackerel. At least they had iridescent stripes along their sides.
Seaweed floated on the water within most of the tanks, and nets hung from high hooks.
So that accounted for the smell, but what was that human-sized fish tank under the bay window about? Sly was glad to see the floor had been reinforced with long planks. They probably distributed the weight better. The only things in the tank were some sand and starfish at the bottom.
When Jules returned and saw Sly appraising his living room, he halted in mid-stride.
“Interesting decor you have,” Sly said.
“Oh, uh… yeah! I’m an avid angler. Just love to fish and hate the cold. I prefer the ocean, so ice fishing is out of the question. This keeps me happy in the chilly months.”
Sly pointed to the human-sized tank by the front windows. “And what were you fishing for over there? Orcas?”
“Ha, ha… No. I just don’t like the idea of fishing in those smaller tanks. Doesn’t seem fair, you know? So I transfer them to the big one and give them a little freedom before they make their way to my dinner plate.”
“I see.” Sly folded his arms. “And you felt their five minutes of freedom was important enough to reinforce the floor?”
“Well, I can’t let my tank come crashing down into your apartment, can I?” He let out a nervous chuckle, and Sly noticed Jules’s teeth for the first time. They were pointed and quite sharp looking. Not exactly like fangs. They were much shorter and didn’t look like they extended.
Something fishy was definitely going on here.
“You know my daughter owns the building, right?”
“Oh! Is Merry your daughter? I didn’t know that.”
“Yes, she is.” Sly stepped a little closer and held the super’s gaze. “We don’t want anything bad to happen to Merry’s home, do we?”
Jules raised his eyebrows and blinked. “Uh, no. Of course not.”
He blinked? Sly’s attempt to mesmerize the man hadn’t worked—if he was a man. Sly was beginning to doubt it.
But Sly had his own secrets to hide, so he’d have to flush out the real identity of this “Jules Vernon” carefully—without putting him on the defensive. Besides, Jules seemed to have an excuse for everything. Sly would bide his time and try to catch him eventually in the act of—whatever.
* * * *
“Morgaine, why don’t you just tell her how you feel?” Chad, the ghost, said.
Morgaine snorted, continued labeling her dried herbs, and tried to ignore the
John R. Little and Mark Allan Gunnells
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