The Touch Of Ghosts: Writer's Cut (Alex Rourke) by John Rickards

it, though. I mean. Don’t think that. I just mean that if there was a party or some of the staff got together for a drink he’d always invite her — helping the new ME settle in — and, well, if he was passing he’d always find a reason to stop in and chat. He knew about you guys, so he never said anything he shouldn’t; he’s far too polite. But if she’d been single or you guys had split he’d have asked her out by now for sure.”
    “Unrequited,” Clyde chipped in. “Gunther from Friends but without the creepy stalker vibe. He’s OK. She just had to be sure to always gently let him down.”  
    “Yeah,” Ellen said. “He's nice. I probably shouldn’t even have mentioned it, but I was just trying to show how there’s been nothing bad at work. He was real hurt when he found out what happened. We went for a drink that evening, talked everything over.”
    “Staking your own claim, El?” Clyde stopped and blinked at me, apology written all over his face. “Sorry, that was in poor taste.”
    I shrugged. “Don't worry about it.”  
    “I think I’ll go for coffee before I put my foot in it any more, just the same. I’ll keep an eye out for any of the management heading this way. They don’t often stop by, but they wouldn’t be happy to see you here.”
    He slipped out into the corridor. I heard the distant whirr of the floor polisher briefly before the door shut again and cut it off. “Was Dr Altmann here the day Gemma died?” I said.
    Ellen shook her head. “No. He had the first half of the week off work. You don't really think he'd have anything to do with it, do you? That’d be crazy. I doubt he even knows how to fire a gun.”
    “You’re probably right. I'll talk to him. They used to talk a lot, maybe he knows something. What does he look like?”  
    “Forty, almost as tall as you. He's got dark hair but it's starting to show grey. It makes him look sort of distinguished. He drives a silver Audi.”  
    “Where does he live?”
    “Barton. I can't remember the address; I’ve only been there once, to a retirement party he threw for one of the doctors. I can find out if he's working today and what time he'll be free if you want.”
    “Thanks. What about recent cases — was there anything Gemma worked on over the week or two before she died that might have had anything to do with what happened?”  
    “Like what? Death's a tricky business. Everyone takes it differently.”
    “Anything unusual, I guess. Someone killed Gemma for a reason, so maybe that reason was something to do with what she was working on.”  
    “This is northern Vermont, Alex. People die, but not many of them and not usually doing anything strange. Car wrecks, hit and runs, accidents, illnesses. The first shocking or surprising thing that’s happened since Gemma started here was her own death.”
    A sad smile, then.

11.

    Altmann’s shift didn’t finish until four thirty according to Ellen, so I drove to the lakeshore and killed time with a coffee and a sandwich before I had to go take up station by the hospital.
    ”It's been ages since I've done this,” Gemma said. We were ambling along the boardwalk that ran out over the lakeside by the town’s single railroad track. Late spring sunshine sparkled from the water but a chilly breeze blew down from the north. I was nursing a cup of coffee and we were both wrapped up in our coats.  
    “What do you mean?"  
    "Gone for a walk along the waterfront like this. I think the last time, I must have been with my dad. My family used to drive down to a beach on Blue Hill Bay sometimes when I was little. We'd walk along by the sea, play around on the beaches. Most times we went you could see out as far as Mount Desert Island. Us kids would have ice cream or doughnuts and Mom and Dad would let us run off so they could have some time to themselves.”
    “You should have said. We passed a doughnut place back on Main Street five minutes ago. It's a bit cold for ice cream,