Surprise tuckerization!
I took another stool, and poured myself a cup of tea. “It’s not a ghost, for one thing. No focus.” That got his attention, I noted. “Yes. Quite. I’m assuming a murder spirit, if only to save myself some time.”
“Ah. Is this related to the David Shane case?” He shrugged at my raised eyebrow. “I dig through different passages than you do, Sun. Some of them are all abuzz with news of a ghostlegger being slain by his prey. If it’s any consolation, the general sentiment about that news was ‘good riddance.’”
“Not well liked then, was he?”
“Ghostleggers rarely are, even by their colleagues. Shane in particular was a bit vexatious. He had money and knowledge, but few ethics and even fewer scruples. And he was not especially personable. That can all be a highly unpleasant combination.”
“Ah.” I sipped my tea. “This sounds like a personal observation.”
“Oh, it is. I don’t partake of ghostweed — filthy stuff, that — but the man was a regular customer of mine. Shane fancied himself an antiquarian. I suppose I should be fair to the dead, and admit that he was quite sound on the history of Boston.” Gallagher sipped his own tea. “Certainly the man bought enough books from me, both preserved and reconstituted. He didn’t care much about how they looked, as long as they could be read.”