Walking with Ghosts - A Honey Driver Murder Mystery (Honey Driver Mysteries) by Jean G. Goodhind Page A

very quick, so fast that she half thought it was purely imagination. There again, sometimes immigrants were always wary of officialdom. They were in a foreign land seeking work, and the local police made them nervous.
    Steve Doherty gave no sign of having noticed.
    Jan lowered himself back on to the chair.
    Steve asked the same questions he’d asked of everyone else.
    ‘Did you see anyone else besides those people on the walk?’
    Jan Kowalski shook his head. ‘Not ghosts. Only person.’
    Steve had been looking down at the statement sheet in front of him. His eyes flicked upwards. ‘You saw people? A person?’
    He nodded. ‘A man. Yes, I saw a man.’
    The tension was tangible. If tangible was edible, then Steve Doherty could be devoured whole. She sensed the stiffening of his body and saw his eyes narrowing.
    ‘Can you describe him?’
    Jan nodded. ‘We had reached the top of an alley that took us back to the main road. He came out from a side street – a narrow side street. We were waiting at the top. Our guide had gone to … pee.’
    ‘An alley?’
    Jan shrugged and gave a questioning flip of his hands. ‘It was only a short moment.’
    Steve asked him if he would recognise the man again. He was like a hunter after the scent, his body tense with anticipation.
    ‘How was he dressed?’
    ‘Black. In black. He wore a hat and a long coat.’
    ‘Could it have been a cloak?’
    Jan shrugged. ‘It might have been.’
    ‘Anything else you remember about him?’
    ‘He had no smell.’
    This was new. People normally reported what they saw with their eyes not what they sniffed with their nose.
    ‘Not even of rain,’ Jan went on. ‘I could have been mistaken, but I do not think so. I have a sensitive nose. Those around me had smells. The women smelled mostly of perfume and deodorant. The men of aftershave, brandy, or a silent  …’ He looked up at the ceiling in his search for the right word.
    ‘I get the picture,’ said Doherty.
    ‘No one else saw him.’
    Doherty met his eyes.
    Honey stiffened.
    ‘Nobody?’ said Doherty.
    ‘No. They did not seem to.’
    He seemed glad to leave.
    ‘See! I told you I saw a guy in a dark suit, and now this guy saw him too,’ said Honey. She didn’t remark on the fact that no one else had seen him. It was enough that she wasn’t the only one.
    ‘Great. Bloke in dark suit. That narrows it down a bit.’
    After that, proceedings were nearly over. The tour guide, Pamela Windsor, was the most cooperative, and had already written everything down, basically duplicating everything on her statement and a bit more besides. Surprised, Doherty thanked her, and after perusing the details could only thank her for her cooperation.
    The last interview was with the two Australian women. They came in to the room wreathed in smiles. Betty Smith and Sally Weston were middle-aged, single, and out to enjoy themselves. They were overweight, dressed in tracksuits and trainers, and looked to be having a good time at being quizzed by a real-life cop.
    ‘Fire away,’ said Betty, the chair legs creaking as they took her weight. Sally’s chair did much the same. Not that she noticed. Her eyes were busy giving Steve a top to toe once-over.
    ‘You single?’ she asked.
    Steve Doherty sidestepped that one and cut to the chase. Had they seen anyone?
    ‘Only ducks,’ said Betty, which brought tears of laughter to both their eyes.
    Their laughter was infectious and brought smiles to both Honey and Doherty . It fell to Doherty to remind them that they were there for a very serious reason. A woman had been murdered.
    They both coughed behind plump fists and apologised.
    No. They hadn’t seen anyone else, though in that weather it was impossible to be sure.
    Doherty didn’t attempt to take up any more of their time.
    ‘You can go, ladies, and enjoy your sightseeing.’
    The women’s plump faces resumed their former joviality, the pair of them giggling like a couple of schoolgirls. Betty