With an irritated glance at Hunter, the ghost turned to me. “Two names, Julian Eskridge and Ramon something. I cannot decipher his handwriting.” He held out the ledger. “Onlyhere one night in June. Though I’m not sure which was which. Perhaps the witch knows. After all she had a tête-à-tête with him.” Nigel’s sparse eyebrows raised.
“A witch?” Hunter asked. “God, please tell me you’re speaking metaphorically.”
“You mean he had sex with a witch?” I asked. Again, I couldn’t believe this was my life. “How does one do that?”
Nigel rolled his ephemeral eyeballs. “I will suspect in the usual way. Though in this instance, they were quite vigorous.”
Hunter barked out a laugh. “Nigel, did you spy on them? Pop into the room maybe?”
“What? I would never.” His hand flattened against his chest under his tie. The paleness of his skin blended with his white shirt. “The privacy of our guests is a priority. Their safety and comfort are paramount. Their—”
“Okay, okay.” Hunter interrupted what was going to be a tirade. “We get it. You’re a premium host. So what else can you tell us? About the witch? Or anything else about the men?”
“Before you do,” I said, still noticing his hand against the shirtfront. “Are you okay, Nigel? You seem a little hazy.”
Nigel held his hand out in front of him and frowned. “Oh. Master is not well. And my existence in this corporeal form is tied to him. When he goes, I go. It is most unfortunate, but that is the way of things.”
“So if the necromancer dies, you disappear?” Hunter asked, distracted. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling.
Nigel nodded. “At least, the glorious form you see in front of you will, yes.”
“And what happens to you?”
He didn’t answer, refilling our coffees and puttering about. His face was pinched and worried as he polished the clean bar top.
I was starting to like the old, er, dead guy. How it all worked, I didn’t know. Who or what Nigel was before he was thenight clerkor how the necromancer sent him into the body he was in was a mystery. And asking if the body he inhabited was actually his to begin with seemed impolite.
“What can we do to help?” I asked.
The ghost suddenly got still, staring at both of us. Then he blinked. And blinked again rapidly, as though… Was he crying? I squinted, suddenly uncomfortable.
“You want to help me? No one has ever asked. No one. Ever.”
“Yes. Of course,” I answered quickly. “You have been a great help to us. We will return the favor. Please tell me what we can do.”
Hunter now looked up. “We can do what?”
“Help Nigel.”
“Oh. Sure. Look, I googled the names.” He held out his phone. “Julian Eskridge is a businessman working in property development. But there’s no mention of Ramon something. The name on the register is Caster or something.”
“He’s not a businessman, but we’ll figure it out.” I turned to Nigel. “Let’s go talk to Master Anu. See if he has an idea of how to keep you around.”
Nigel brightened. “Yes. Let’s.” He popped out of existence, leaving me looking at a blank space.
“Oh shit,” Hunter said, taking his phone back to peer at it.
“What?”
“Caster isn’t the name. Of course, he would have given a fake name. Ramon Castenada. Holy shit balls.”
“HB, I have no idea—”
Nigel popped in again. “Are you coming?”
Hunter jumped. “Ack! Nigel. Stop it.” He glared across the bar. Turning to me, he said, “Ramon Castenada is part of theCastenada cartel. Out of New York or New Jersey. Anyway, they run all kinds of operations—the not-so-legal stuff—drugs, guns, gambling, the works.”
I slid off my stool, pulling him along. “Come on.”
