Blood Debt

block the window's outside. Henry thought it would be best if he didn't come in. You know, keeping his scent out."
    Braced against the wall, Vicki got to her feet, extended a hand down to Celluci, and stopped herself just before she lifted him effortlessly upright—displays of strength bothered him more than anything else.
    When she noticed Tony watching her and realized he understood what she'd done, she clenched her teeth in irritation. "This is not a case of a woman being less than she can to save the machismo of some man,"
    she growled. "This is a person making a compromise for someone she cares about."
    Tony backed up, both hands raised. "I didn't say anything."
    "I could hear you thinking."
    As she stomped by him, Tony glanced over at Celluci. "Has she always been that moody?"
    Celluci ignored him. "What machismo?" he demanded following her down the hall. "What the hell are you talking about?"
    Tony sighed, "Never mind." Trailing along behind, he waited for a break in the argument and announced, "Henry says that once you get the stuff inside and before you put it up, we should all meet in his apartment to discuss the case."
    Resting two sheets of three-quarter-inch plywood against the wall, Celluci frowned. "Wouldn't finding neutral territory make more sense?
    "
    "He says his place'll do since Vicki's already scented it."
    "He what?"
    "Hey! Victory!" Eyes wide, Tony backed up until he hit a sideboard and he stopped cold, one hand flung out to steady an antique candelabra rocked by the impact. "Chill. I'm just repeating what Henry said."
    "He makes it sound as though I've been spraying the furniture."
    Remembering his earlier conversation with Celluci, Tony didn't think it would be wise to add that Henry had also drawn in a deep breath, his expression had softened, and he'd murmured, "God, how I miss her." At the time, Tony had been tempted to remind him none too gently that Vicki was just down the hall and that if he missed her it was his own damned fault. That wasn't, however, a tone one took with Henry Fitzroy.
    "While Vicki and I secure that room, I suggest you head over to the city morgue at Vancouver General and ID a corpse."
    Henry looked down the length of his dining room table and raised a red-gold brow. "I beg your pardon?"
    "If there's a ghost, odds are good that somewhere there's a body."
    Fully conscious that their precarious truce would need constant maintenance, Celluci buried his initial reaction to being patronized by a man who wrote romance novels and managed to keep his voice calm and his body language noncommittal. "The odds are better that a handless body, if found, is going to make the paper. So this afternoon, while you two were getting your beauty sleep, I went through your recycling." He picked up the folded newspaper and tossed it down to Henry. "A handless body got pulled out of the harbor right about when your ghost showed up."
    "It isn't my ghost," Henry told him tersely.
    Celluci shrugged. "Whatever. Body's still going to be at the morgue.
    Police haven't been able to ID it or that would be in a later edition."
    "And if it is the right body?" He slid the paper back down the length of the table.

    "We find out what the police know," Celluci began, "and then…"
    Cold fingers closed around his wrist like a vise.
    "Mike. My case. Before you solve it, don't you think you ought to maybe talk things over with me?"
    He half turned to face her. Fully aware of the danger, he didn't quite meet her eyes. "Vicki. Our case. I assumed we'd talk things over while Henry was at the morgue. Or would you rather I just bunked with Tony and went on vacation until you decide to go home?"

Eyes narrowed, she let go of his arm. Unwilling to look at either him or Henry, she swept her gaze around the room and suddenly laughed. "I think Tony's terrified you might actually make good on that threat."
    "Not terrified," Tony protested as the other three turned to stare at him. "It's just I'm staying with friends and they haven't got room and it's not like…" His voice trailed off, and he directed a withering gaze at Vicki. "Thanks a lot."
    "You can come home," Henry reminded him. "My initial plan seems to have been… discarded."
    "Nah." The younger man shifted in his chair. "I already moved my stuff, and John and Gerry made room for me, so it'd be rude to just leave."
    "Suit yourself." His brow furrowed thoughtfully, but just as he was about to speak, Celluci, who'd been watching Tony's face carefully, cut him