She started to tell him that, sure, that would be nice.
But Aidan said, “I’d prefer to have her sit in with me. She knows all the players, and she knows the place. She’ll be able to tell if what she hears is the truth. It might make a difference. We’re not interrogating these people, we’re hoping to get something from them.”
“As you like,” Purbeck agreed.
“I’ll start sending them through,” Logan said.
“Great. But, Lieutenant Purbeck, can we begin in the conference room? I’d like to throw them all together first,” Aidan said.
Within ten minutes, everyone had gathered in the conference room. Those who hadn’t yet greeted one another with hugs of commiseration did so. Everyone crowded around to pet Rollo, too. Hug him, actually. The dog must have seemed like a bastion of strength and normalcy to them. Grace, Ron and Phil came over to Mo and hugged her especially tight. Then they all found places to sit.
“So,” Aidan said, from his position at the head of the table. “We all know what happened last night. And I am so very sorry for your loss. I met Sondra Burke briefly, and she was lovely.”
Heads bowed.
He looked over at a young woman whose white-blond hair contrasted dramatically with her tanned skin. “Ms. Chessy, right? You were at the hostess stand, taking money?”
Cindy Chessy, a nice enough girl Mo barely knew, nodded vigorously.
“Did you see anyone who looked out of place?” Aidan asked.
“No. No one weirder than usual,” she replied. “People aren’t allowed to wear costumes when they come here. Only the actors can wear costumes. That way, no guests can try to freak people out or get into anything.”
“Makes sense. What did you do after you sold the last ticket?”
“Closed the entry gate and took the lockbox to the office. Sondra wasn’t there, but I didn’t think anything of it. She slips out to observe sometimes.”
“And then you left?”
“Yes.” Tears welled in her eyes. “Then I left. I’m always first out of there. I’m not an actor—and I’m not paid as much as the actors. They know I leave early and no one cares.”
“I’m sure they don’t.” He had a group of folders in front of him, folders containing each person’s work file.
“Let’s see. Phil and Ron, we talked last night. So let me start with Joshua Kirbin,” Aidan said.
“Me?” Joshua squeaked. He was sagging against the wall. There were only about twelve chairs at the conference table and the people who weren’t in them either leaned against the wall or sat on the floor.
“You were in the coffin,” Aidan said.
“Whatever happened, it happened after I was gone,” Joshua insisted. “I had plans last night, so I got out of there as fast as I could. The Ripper—Jack the Ripper.” He pointed at Phil. “You saw me.”
“I told them I saw you leave, yes,” Phil said, “and that was maybe...ten minutes before I saw the body. Or rather, that there was something in the coffin.” Aidan swiveled in his chair to look across the table. He gestured at a tall boy, a senior at the local college, Mo thought. His name was Harry Pickford.
“Harry, you were playing the mad doctor. Do you remember somebody going by to get to the doorway behind you?”
Harry stood up, opened his mouth and then sank back in his chair. “Yes,” he said. He glanced over at Phil. “I thought it was you— Someone in a sweeping black cloak like yours but with a hat lowered over his face. I thought...I thought it was a new gimmick.”
“Me!” Phil protested. His voice sounded like a squeak, too. “I never left my place. I was outside all night.”
“Weren’t the historical characters inside, and outside it was the legendary characters and well-known ghosts?”
“Mostly, yes, but...Jack the Ripper was supposed to skulk through the cemetery and show up unexpectedly. So I did my little walk around one of the tombs. Like Mo,” Phil said.
“Anyone else see this Jack the Ripper character slipping past?” Aidan asked.
“I’m pretty sure I saw him go by,” another young man, Perry Lichtman, said. He raised his hand as he spoke, as if they were in school. “I’m the one being operated on by the mad doctor. I saw something—but I’m in this boxlike thing, poking my head out, screaming most of the time. I saw someone out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be bent over.”
“No one would think anything of it,” a girl, Mindy Myers, who played Countess Bathory, told Aidan. “The Grim Reaper—Tony over there—flits around the place all the time.”
“Did any of you see anyone go to the office last night?” Aidan asked next.
The room was silent as they looked at one another, shaking their heads.
“No, but I thought that the person moving around like a hunchback and carrying a big sack was Tony,” Ron said. “The Grim Reaper.”
“So, you saw it, too?”
“Yeah, I usually sit in the dressing room and read magazines or whatever, waiting to clean up at the end. I leave with Sondra. Or, if she’s already gone, I make sure everyone else is out before we close up. Sometimes during the show I wander through to see how people look in their makeup and do costume checks. I saw the figure moving—and I thought Tony was doing a hell of a job,” he added dryly.
Mo had been standing by the back wall, Rollo obediently crouched beside her. She suddenly felt weak and decided to sit on the floor. They’d all been there, at the mausoleum; they’d all been there while a killer had snuck in on Sondra and killed her. Then that killer had come through the place, carrying Sondra, to behead her in the mausoleum. After that, he’d crept back through the whole site with the head and the body. He’d left the body—and gone on to display the head. And no one had noticed him, seen what he was doing, even when he’d been right in front of them.
“So, the killer slipped into the office, killed Sondra and came out among you, without anyone thinking he was anything but part of the show?” Aidan asked.
They all stared back at him. Then someone started to cry.
“I’m not trying to upset you. I’m trying to find her killer,” he said. “If anyone remembers anything else, please get hold of us as quickly as you can.” He stood and handed out his cards, then turned to introduce Lee Van Camp. “If you don’t reach me or someone at the main number on that card, call the station—or you can call Detective Van Camp directly.”
Lee nodded and walked around the room, also handing out cards.
“Thank you all for coming in,” Aidan said.
“We’re free to go?” someone asked.
“You’re free to go.” Purbeck had been just outside, by the door. When the last of the Haunted Mausoleum employees had filed out, he came in to speak to Aidan.
“I heard from the M.E.,” he said quietly. “Same everything. Chloroform to knock out his victim. Manual strangulation—and then beheading. There’s one thing that’s a little bit different. He’s cleaner with his hatchet. He’s learning how to remove the head with greater ease.”
Aidan was silent for a minute. “They say that the horror of the French Revolution went on as long as it did because the guillotine was so swift and sure. We have to stop this guy before he gets any better.”
“Well, in a way, we’re further behind than we were. The charges against Jillian Durfey have been dismissed. No judge was going to hold her to a court date with this new killing that’s taken place,” Purbeck said.
“We need another task force meeting,” Aidan told him. “We’re moving in the right direction. What we need is a lot more research. The killer is organized, knowledgeable and intelligent—and he’s thumbing his nose at us. Can we get everyone together?”
“Van Camp?”
“Thirty minutes, sir.”
“What about your people, Mahoney?”
&
nbsp; “Logan is here. Sloan is at the morgue. Jane and Will are watching Richard Highsmith’s people.”
“Highsmith’s bunch is free to leave at any time,” Purbeck reminded Aidan.
“We’re still following them,” Aidan said. He smiled at Mo and inclined his head. “I think a few of your coworkers are hanging around out in the hall, waiting for you.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m not sure—”
“We have thirty minutes,” he said. “Want some coffee?”
“Some? I’d take a gallon.”
She walked to the door with Rollo on a short leash. When she turned, Aidan and Logan were behind her. Logan was friendly and courteous; he had an air of easy confidence about him and a polite concern for those around him. She thought he was a good match for Aidan. They seemed to work well together, as equals.
They dealt with some horrible cases, she thought. So did she. But sometimes, she found the living. And that made it all worthwhile. Sometimes...
Maybe it even helped the dead, appeased them and brought them peace, when the truth was uncovered and justice was served.
Logan opened the door for her, so she and Rollo stepped out into the hallway.
“We waited for you,” Grace said.
“Yeah, we wanted to say goodbye,” Phil added.
“We couldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” Ron told her. He frowned at Aidan. “I saw him. I saw him and didn’t even know it.”
“Could you speak with a colleague of ours, so she can do a sketch?” Aidan asked. He then introduced Logan to the group.
Purbeck came out. “This is a police station, not a social club!” he said. Then he smiled, belying the harshness of his words. “There’s a coffee shop next door. Get out of here for now, get yourselves something to eat or drink. See what comes up when you relax a bit. That can work, you know. And take Detective Van Camp with you. Van Camp, that’s an order. Grab something to eat. Everyone’s been on this around the clock, and we’re going to have to stay on it around the clock until the killer’s caught, so we’re in it for the long haul. Now go.”
He made a shooing motion. “And be back in thirty!” he said as he turned and walked toward his office.
Van Camp seemed a little uncomfortable.
Grace hooked her arm through his. “Please, Detective, join us. We’re all scared. It’s good to have another cop with us.”
She marched toward the elevators, and Van Camp looked back at them with a hint of panic on his face.
Aidan grinned at Mo. “He’s a good guy,” he said in a low voice.
They were lucky in their timing at the café. It was late for lunch and too early for dinner. They were seated immediately and their waitress promised she’d have their food out quickly.
Mo had been keeping Rollo in his service-dog vest, so there was no problem with having him there. He lay quietly under the table.
Better yet, their waitress was a dog lover. She brought him a huge bowl of water before she even produced menus.
Watching Aidan, Logan and Van Camp, Mo thought Purbeck was no fool. Yes, it was a social setting, but no one there could stop talking about what had happened.
They all scanned the menu and ordered. When the waitress left the table there was silence for a minute. “Where did you get your costumes for the Haunted Mausoleum?” Aidan asked, bringing the conversation back to what was on everyone’s mind. “You said that you thought the killer was one of your actors, Ron, but wouldn’t you know which costumes were yours? I’m assuming you have a count?”
“We do, but we have several cloaks for a grim reaper, and a number of men’s trench coats and frock coats. People have to substitute for one another sometimes, or we have to bring in a new actor to replace someone we’ve lost, and not everyone takes the same size. The attraction has existed for over a decade now, so we’ve accumulated a pretty decent wardrobe selection,” Ron told him.
“But you’d know something was missing if you went in there and counted?”
“Well, of course. We keep an inventory list,” Ron said.
“Most people get out of their costumes before they leave,” Phil put in. “But some people wear them home. They’re trusted to bring them back.”
“You still know who does and doesn’t change on the premises, right?” Aidan persisted.
“I know exactly who wears what. And if you take it home, you’re responsible for getting it back,” Ron said.
Their food arrived.
“What about that tunnel?” Van Camp had been quiet. After the waitress delivered their food, he suddenly spoke up. “Who knew it was there?”
Mo shook her head. “I didn’t.”
“I never thought about it,” Grace said. “We hear so much, we learn so much—as guides, I mean—but we never used the tunnel, we never took people there. Technically, the business could do what it wanted with the property, but...it’s historical. It’s maintained with integrity. Okay, maybe the Haunted Mausoleum doesn’t seem like it has a lot of integrity, but that’s for fun.”
“Yeah, and it helps support a lot of the ‘integrity’ through the rest of the year,” Phil pointed out. “There’s not always a lot of tourism here. Some months are lean.”
Van Camp turned to Aidan. “I’ll go with Ron and find out if anything’s missing from their costume supply. I don’t need to be at the task force meeting. You can bring the officers up to date.”
“I’ll head out with Lee and Ron, take a look around the site. I haven’t seen it yet,” Logan told him.
“Ah...can we go, too?” Phil asked, gesturing at Grace and Mo. “Maybe you’ll need us for something.”
“Mo and Rollo should stick with me,” Aidan said. “Rollo will be a real asset. The officers sometimes trust a dog more than they do a federal agent.”
“Feds! They’re suspicious people. I mean, we all love the FBI—and we’re all suspicious of it!” Phil said, and nodded knowingly, bringing a laugh from everyone around the table. It felt good to laugh.
“It might help more if we have Mo and Rollo with us. Let’s meet back at the Haunted Mausoleum when you’ve finished with the task force meeting. I doubt you’ll be that long.”
Mo studied Aidan, waiting for his reaction. She almost smiled—but managed not to.
He didn’t like her being away from him now, she thought. Was he worried about her?
Whatever the reason, it was nice.
“Okay,” he agreed with obvious reluctance. “I’ll go over the facts and tell the officers what they need to be looking for out there.”
“I think it is smarter if I go with Logan and Detective Van Camp,” Mo said. “I was there last night, walking around the mausoleum where Sondra was beheaded.” She paused for a minute. “Ron, do you think she could have been killed because of something she knew? Something she’d discovered?”
“Like what?” Ron asked her.
“When you were doing my makeup, remember? She came by and talked about how she’d like a research assistant. She mentioned the Continental currency that had disappeared before the Civil War. She thought it made for interesting history—and that it would be worth a fortune.”
“But she didn’t know where it was. If she’d found it, yes, that might have been a motive. But she hadn’t...”
“Interesting,” Aidan murmured.
“Continental currency?” Ron asked, still skeptical. “I really doubt it.”
“People kill for money often enough,” Aidan said with a shrug. “Mo, that’s something you could research.”
“I can try. It’s a story I haven’t heard before.”
“But you have a good library, with lots of old books. Maybe we should follow up on that.”
She nodded. “I will,” she said. “But for now, I’ll go with Detective Van Camp and Logan and t
he others.”
“I’ll keep an eye on everyone, and we’ll be surrounded by cops,” Logan said.
Aidan got to his feet. “Fine. Let’s go, then. I’ll meet up with you there.” He hesitated. “We’re already losing daylight.”
“I can get all the houselights and the floodlights up,” Ron assured him.
“All right. I’ll see you there,” Aidan said.
When they left the restaurant, Mo found that she was going to be driving out with Logan. It seemed to be a natural assumption. Phil, Ron and Grace had come to the station together.
Rollo sat in the back. As they turned onto the street, Logan asked her quietly, “How long have you been seeing the dead?”
She turned to him, surprised. He flashed her a smile. “I think you have a great dog—but I think you have a lot more. Aidan is new to us, but he has it, too. He doesn’t want to think he does. He prefers to believe that he doesn’t really belong with the Krewe.”
“He may feel differently now,” Mo said. “You all don’t...know each other very well?”
“He just transferred into our unit. Our director, Adam Harrison, is an elderly gentleman who never went through the academy. He was sought out. Adam just had a talent for hiring the right people. He lost a son who had real precognition and after that...well, he recognized it in others.
“He started with Jackson Crow, who’s basically commander in chief of our field agents. Adam has a way of watching people. He’d been watching Aidan for a while, and he liked what he saw. Adam can home in on particular and sometimes unusual skills, even when people don’t see it or admit it themselves. So, how long have you been seeing the dead?”
“Since I was a kid. I was lucky because I had a dog then, too. Rollo’s mom, Heidi. I just let everyone think the dog did it all— Oh, and trust me! Rollo is a great scent hound, although wolfhounds are supposed to be sight hounds. Anyway, it works for us.” Mo frowned. “You see the dead, too?”
He nodded, watching the traffic. “When they want to be seen—and can be seen. With everything we’ve done and everything I’ve seen, I’ve still never figured out why some just go on and others stay behind. However, it makes sense to me that a man like Richard Highsmith would linger. He’d want the truth—and he’d want justice.” He glanced at her. “Has he stayed on?”