Ghost Mortem (Ghost Detective #1) - Jane Hinchey Page 0,51

came out in a rush, running together so fast that even I had trouble understanding them.

But Galloway got the gist of it. He placed his cup on the desk, held one hand over his heart and the other up, palm facing me, and said, "I honestly swear that I will not take credit for any work Ben or you have done and that I will not steal his cases."

I smiled weakly. Now I felt like a knob.

"It's fine, Fitz," Ben said from the doorway. "Tell him everything. I'll vouch for him." I glanced Ben's way. If Ben trusted him that should have been enough for me and I wondered why it wasn't? Was it because I have such an overwhelming emotional response whenever he's around that it clouds my judgment?

"Fine." I huffed, pulling out the chair and sitting down. Galloway snagged the wooden chair from the corner again and dragged it over to the desk, making himself comfortable next to me.

Minimizing the browser, I pulled up the Delaney Investigations database and went through the open cases, giving Galloway a rundown on where I was at with each of them, finishing with this morning’s activities.

Galloway looked at me with one brow raised. "You broke into his office?"

I shook my head. "No. It wasn't locked. So no breaking."

He sighed and shook his head. "Okay. No more of that. Let's keep you on the right side of the law, shall we?"

Whatever. "The point is, he called his daughter—who he was having investigated, well sort of—immediately after my visit. I was curious as to why."

Galloway pointed out the obvious. "Could be that he had plans with his daughter? Could be anything, not necessarily related to your visit at all."

"Maybe. Still. I think there's something there." I dug my heels in. Ben told me to trust my gut and my gut told me there was more to the Drake family. Philip Drake had been quick to pay me off, to close the job.

"Go back to Sophie's social media page," Galloway instructed. I pulled up the web page. "Pull up her photos, the ones other people have taken of her." I did as instructed. "What do you see?" I looked at the screen, at the grid of smaller images, all with Sophie in them, but there was one where her back was to the camera that looked vaguely familiar.

Then the penny dropped. "Holy shit!" I jumped to my feet in excitement, only my foot got tangled around the leg of my chair and before I knew it I was flat on my back staring up at the ceiling.

“You okay?” Galloway asked, his face a mixture of surprise and mirth.

“Yep.” I clambered back to my feet and righted my chair before resuming my seat. Carrying on as if nothing had happened, I pulled up Ben's surveillance photos of Steven Armstrong and compared them with the photo of Sophie. Same hair, same build. "Could it be her?" I was talking to myself but Galloway answered.

"A strong possibility. So what should your next course of action be?"

"Talk to Sophie."

"Why not Armstrong?"

"Because he's older and is already used to lying to his wife. He'd have a cover story in place. I'm more likely to get the truth out of Sophie. Especially if I show her these photos."

"How so? What difference would that make?"

"Uh, hello? A twenty-something young woman on social media? Obsessed with her own image? She's going to want those photos."

Galloway smiled. "Good answer."

I sagged in relief, feeling like I'd passed a secret test. Okay, not so secret test.

"What about this next case? The Baxter one. What are your next steps?"

"Go through the journals he gave me, see if I can find anything remotely useful. Although I really don't know why Ben accepted this case. It's got me puzzled."

"This is the witch one, yes?" Galloway leaned over me to click the mouse. The Baxter file appeared on the screen.

"Yeah. I was curious because, one way or another, all three of these cases appeared to be linked to the Firefly Bay Hotel. I wondered if that was why Ben took it on?"

"Really?" Galloway flicked through the files on the screen, scanning the information—information I'd already told him. Eventually, he sat back. "You're right. But again, it could be purely coincidental."

There's that word again. When, in the PI business, did you put something down to being truly coincidental and when do you call it pure bull hockey?

"I'm happy for you to pursue those lines of investigation." Galloway nodded.

I admit, it ruffled