Ghosts of Manhattan Read Online Free

he saw her looking. "Will Miss Parker be taking breakfast this morning?" He'd made her breakfast before, on more than one occasion.
    Celeste folded the stub of her cigarette into the ashtray. "Not today, Henry. I have rehearsals. And I think Mr. Cross could use some more sleep."
    Henry nodded politely and placed the silver tray on the table beside the crumpled newspaper. He straightened his back, glancing at his employer. "Will that be all, sir?"

    Gabriel nodded. "Yes, that'll be all, Henry." He glanced at the eggs. His stomach growled. "I'll be taking a trip into town later. I intend to watch Miss Parker's show this evening. Could you ask Graves to prepare one of the cars?"
    "Very good, sir."
    Celeste flashed Gabriel a wry smile. Gabriel offered her an abundant grin.
    "I'll leave you to your breakfast." She regarded him with something approximating satisfaction, and then stood, collecting her handbag from where she'd left it on the sideboard. "Until this evening, then."
    Gabriel dropped his still-smoldering cigarette into the ashtray and pushed himself up out of his easy chair, riffles of blue smoke billowing from his nostrils. "I'll walk you out." He took her arm and led her into the hall.
    "What about your eggs?"
    "Never mind the eggs." He stopped her at the foot of the stairs and took her face in his hands, pulling her near, kissing her deeply on the lips. Once again he felt his heart hammering in his chest. He wondered if she could feel it too.
    They stood for a moment, staring into one another's eyes. Then Celeste broke away, moving toward the door. She pushed it open and Gabriel felt a cold breeze sweep into the hallway. He shivered involuntarily.
    Celeste crossed to her motorcar, the gravel crunching noisily with every step. Gabriel followed to open the door for her, watching as she smoothly lowered herself into the driver's seat. A moment later the engine roared, a shot of black smoke belched out from the exhaust pipe, and the vehicle hissed away. Celeste didn't look back.
    Gabriel watched the car slide off into the distance, steam rising from the rear funnels to leave long vapor trails in the crisp morning air. As he turned back to the house, already lamenting the fact that she'd had to leave so soon, he noticed a small, dark bundle on the ground, resting on the driveway at the bottom of the step. He crouched so that he could get a better look. It was a dead bird, its black feathers ruffling in the breeze. It looked as if it had been mangled somehow, caught and abandoned by a predator, perhaps, its head twisted awkwardly to one side, its wings broken out of shape. He'd seen a man like that once, lying in a ditch in France. His neck had been broken, too, blood caked ominously around one ear, eyes glazed and milky-white. If it hadn't been for the startled look of terror frozen on the dead man's face, Gabriel could almost have imagined he was resting, his head on a soft pillow of mud, watching the plumes of distant explosions as innumerable airships drifted lazily above, relentlessly bombarding the landscape below.

    Sighing, he stood. He wished his mind wasn't full of such memories. He'd have Henry come and clear the remains of the bird away later. Now, he needed eggs. And he needed to clear his head. The Bloody Mary would help.

     

elix Donovan was having a terrible day.
    He'd been dragged from his bed at five-thirty by the buzzing of the holotube, only to find his sergeant on the line, nervously informing him there'd been a homicide. From the look of the flickering blue image that appeared in the mirrored cavity in his holotube terminal, he'd been able to tell that Mullins was calling from a private booth in a hotel or bar, and that he very much considered himself out of his depth.
    Nevertheless, for a moment Donovan had actually considered going back to bed. It wasn't as if murders were anything new or unusual in downtown Manhattan. Another dead body on another apartment floor. He was sure it could wait until a