And the sword, appearing to be nothing more than plastic and light, but oh, so much more!
The attack had been brutal and vicious; slash after slash had ripped the actress to shreds, tearing through her shoulder, slicing into her throat.
The blood remained, dried and caked now.
“What did the medical examiner say about the blade?” Bryan asked.
“Steel—fine steel, extremely sharp, a blade well honed,” Vining said.
“And the weapon was never found?”
“Despite many, many Blood-bones gathered up. And, of course, that’s just it.”
“What’s just it?” Bryan asked.
“If we had found the right Blood-bone... Well, you can just imagine. See the scene before you? The killer should have been covered in blood. We interviewed no such Blood-bone.”
“And nowhere here, in the convention hall, did anyone find discarded clothing...drips of blood, anything?”
“It’s as if he vanished into thin air,” Vining said, shaking his head. “Now, consider that it was a sword and held from the body at a distance...” He paused, reflective. “Nope. Killer must have had blood on him. But in the midst of the melee, the screaming, the crowd... Other than Marnie and the rest of the Dark Harbor cast realizing that it wasn’t any kind of a performance, the killer walked out. He just walked out. People didn’t know. They didn’t get it. In fact, from what I understand...”
“What?”
Vining shrugged. “They applauded,” he said softly. “They applauded—and marveled at the incredible special effects.”
*
Sophie Manning was going to have to go to work. Still, she didn’t seem pleased about it.
“The thing is...I think it’s dangerous for you to go out today. Until we know more about what’s going on. I mean, you do want to live, right?” she asked Marnie.
“Of course,” Marnie said. Preferably without being tormented by a ghost! “Yes, of course. But I’m also afraid of becoming paranoid. I don’t want to be afraid to walk the streets. I mean, what if you never discover what happened, who killed Cara and who tried to break in here? We could wind up being...two agoraphobic old ladies!”
Sophie smiled.
“Hmph. Speak for yourself,” Bridget said.
“I just don’t want to give in to all this—give in to fear and paranoia when I might not even be in any danger.”
“Then again,” Sophie said, “think about the way Cara Barton died.”
That was sobering.
But Marnie didn’t have to reply. There was a knock on the door.
Even Sophie jumped, reaching for her gun.
They were on Bridget’s side of the duplex. Was someone, just maybe, after Bridget? Who knew Marnie was on this side of the duplex? Other than the cops and...the killer. Or would-be home invader.
“Hello! It’s all right, it’s me!”
A voice, deep, rich and masculine cut through the sudden fear that instilled itself in Marnie.
“Sorry—me, as in Bryan McFadden.”
“I don’t really think that a killer-slash-home-invader is going to knock,” Marnie said. She tried to smile. “And, obviously not, since it’s McFadden.”
She walked to the door, looking back at Bridget and Sophie wryly, and opened the door.
At the moment she was even glad to see Bryan McFadden.
The man who also saw ghosts.
The man was dressed in a suit again. It fitted him perfectly, but then he did have the kind of physique that allowed for a suit to fit perfectly. His shirt was simply blue, the tie a darker shade. But the cut of his clothing really was exceptional. Subdued but tailor-made, Marnie thought.
Did that make her like him more or less?
Neither, she realized—it was totally neither here nor there. But she wondered if she was wary of him because of his very...being. It wasn’t that he was so good-looking. Her world and realm of work offered an endless stream of good-looking men.
It was that he was solid. Real. Even the low-key scent of his soap or aftershave seemed rugged, clean and masculine.
“Good morning. Do come in.”
He obviously heard the sarcasm in her voice. She thought that the look he gave her was rather a superior one, as if he were dealing with a spoiled child.
She winced. Maybe she was acting like one.
But her friend had been murdered and was now walking around and talking to her and then disappearing and then reappearing...
And no one else saw or heard. Except for this man.
“I came by to check on everyone. Detective Manning, is—”
“Everything is fine,” Sophie said. “But I do have to leave. I’m trying to talk some sense into Marnie. She shouldn’t go out. Not now. She might well be a target.”
McFadden looked at Marnie. “Your life is worth whatever it is you think you need to do?” he asked. He made it sound as if he thought she was truly foolish.
“You don’t understand. And while Sophie has been great, she doesn’t understand either. This could go on forever. We won’t be able to exist if you don’t find anything, and days and then weeks go by. We—we’ve established the fact we’re going to buy a dog.”
“A dog?”
“A big one!”
He lowered his face, and Marnie actually thought he was grinning.
“I think a dog is good idea,” Sophie offered.
“I love the idea!” Bridget said.
“There’s nothing wrong with a dog. But you can’t count on it to protect you. And that doesn’t really solve the problem of you going out today.” He paused and turned to the door to look out. Marnie hadn’t heard a thing.
“It’s a...glass company,” he said.
“Oh, wonderful,” Bridget said. “They’re here to fix the back window. I’ll handle it.”
“You need to wait just a moment,” McFadden said.
He went out. The three women walked to the windows.
He was demanding ID from every one of the three workers who had arrived.
Then he made a quick phone call and then finally hung up and nodded to the men. He returned to the house, telling Bridget that the men could come in and work.
There were a few minutes of craziness as Bridget went out and the workers unloaded their stuff, and then Marnie went out—followed closely by McFadden.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“It’s my bedroom—and I own the place!” Marnie said.
Bridget was already talking to the workers; she’d just come out to listen. An older man, the head of the crew, told her that they’d replace broken glass, but the cleanup was their responsibility. Bridget assured him that was fine—they just needed the glass replaced.
The workers headed into Marnie’s side of the duplex.
Marnie, McFadden and Bridget all returned to Bridget’s living room.
“Everything all right?” Sophie asked. She smiled ruefully. “I almost followed you all out. Like a comedy of errors. Thought that might be overkill.”
“Everything is fine,” McFadden said.
Sophie told him, “Good. I need to report to work.”
“Yes, I know. You were great, really kind, staying with these ladies. I’m very grateful,” he said.
He was grateful? And very, very annoying. It was her place to talk! Marnie thought.
Stiffly, she voiced her own appreciation to Sophie, with Bridget chiming in.
“It’s fine. Felt good to help,” Sophie assured them.
“Here,” McFadden said, offering her a bundled handkerchief. “I found the bullet that was fired at me last night. It had lodged in a tree branch. Maybe ballistics can figure out something.”
“I’ll get it where it needs to be right away,” Sophie said. She looked back at Marnie and smiled grimly. “I know this is hard to fathom and very hard to accept.”
“But someone may want to kill you,” McFadden said quietly.
Marnie nodded. “I understand. However, in broad daylight? The streets of the city are not part of a comic con. I have an important meeting. It’s about the entire rest of my life, which—don’t say it—I know! May not exist if I’m not careful. Still...”
“I’ll take you,” McFadden said.
“Perfect,” Sophie said. “I can go to work. You can take Bridget by my friend’s place to pick up a dog and then take Marnie to her meeting.”
“I, uh, imagine you have other things to do,” Marnie said, looking at McFadden.