Chapter 3

Regina stifled a scoff as the impeccably dressed man made this statement, but she noticed that Dashiell merely looked thoughtful.

“How long ago was the body discovered?” Dashiell asked.

“About an hour ago. I would have been here sooner, but I needed to check your credentials,” the man replied.

Dashiell didn’t seem perturbed by this. “I take it they checked out.”

“I am here, am I not?”

Dashiell nodded and turned to walk back towards Regina. “Very well. I just need to collect a few supplies.”

He skirted past Regina into his messy office. He stepped over to a bookshelf and ran his fingers along the spines of the books there. He stopped on one, checked the title and pulled it out. He then moved over behind the desk and grabbed a small black attaché case that was there.

He opened the book automatically to a page and scanned it quickly. He checked the case, rummaging around a bit. He placed the book within the case. He then turned to the desk and opened the left hand drawer. He pulled out some chalk and a candle, placing them in the case as well.

He then turned and walked toward the door. Regina watched him throughout the whole process. She had a skeptical look on her face.

“Dash, can you really summon a dead woman’s soul?”

“I guess we’re going to find out.” He walked back into the main room as he said this.

The well-dressed man overheard the exchange. “Are you saying you might not be able to do this, Mr. Aldridge? I was led to believe….”

Dashiell waved a hand to cut him off. “Don’t worry. It’s been a while since I’ve done it, but I have successfully raised spirits in the past. But you’re right about the time constraints. The soul only remains with the body for a set number of hours. After that, I am powerless to do anything. Assuming the victim died shortly before you came looking for me, I should be able to call it forth.”

The man nodded and turned toward the outer door to Dashiell’s office. “Then let us hurry, Mr. Aldridge.” He opened the door and swept into the hallway, followed by Dashiell and Regina. “Pardon my lack of manners, Mr. Aldridge, but I have been in a hurry. My name is Charles Watson. I work for the Scofield family.”

Dashiell and Regina exchanged looks. The Scofields were one of the richest families in the city. There were Scofields on the board of the Kennedy Center, the Smithsonian and a variety of private foundations. They regularly hosted the crème-de-la-crème of the political elite in D.C. If Mr. Watson was right, this was going to be a media nightmare.

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