“In the almost flesh,” Sean said sincerely, and everyone smiled.
When Bridget knocked on the door, they all went out to the cars and made their way to the conference center. Even the outside was decorated with huge and fantastic creatures—giant tyrannosaurs formed an archway over the main entry doors.
Bryan had spoken with the conference managers, and he led the way through side doors. Marnie greeted the conference workers who helped them, and autographed a few of the show programs as a thank-you, before their assigned assistant walked her through some of the exhibits to the place where the Dark Harbor cast would meet and greet and sign.
They had a really nice place at the front of the convention center. It was so sad, she thought, that they had risen to such prominence only after Cara had been killed.
Over the past weeks, Cara’s face had graced dozens of magazine covers and hundreds of newspapers and possibly thousands of websites.
A beautiful picture of Cara with Jeremy Highsmith—as Mr. and Mrs. Zeta—covered the space behind them. The Dark Harbor cast was on a podium, and they had three convention hall employees assigned to watch over them and handle crowd control.
“Cara would be happy with this setup,” Marnie murmured to Bryan.
“Cara will probably be here,” Bryan said. He was watching Sean and Madison.
The two were speaking softly together. Madison was lovely, with large blue eyes and long silky hair; Sean was a fitting companion, tall, broad shouldered but lean, with a striking face. Of course, they would both know a lot of people at the show.
And more, they would know a number of the actors at the show who specialized in creature character work.
They could be on the watch for someone—likely not Blood-bone today, but another persona—who might be carrying a weapon and have bloodshed and murder on the mind.
“You’re the second one from Dark Harbor to arrive,” Shandra, their first hostess-crowd-control-helper, told them, walking them all from the special guest entry to the booth where they would sit.
Roberta Alan was straightening pictures on the table. She saw them arrive and gave them a beaming smile.
“Marnie! Thank goodness you’re here.” She hugged Marnie as if it had been years since they had seen one another and not a day. She stepped back and grinned at the others and then frowned slightly as she noticed Sean and Madison.
Looking at Madison, she said, “I know you. Why do I know you?”
Madison grinned. “Werewolves. I forget what season it was. I worked with you on the werewolf story line. My name is—”
“Madison! Madison Darvil!” Roberta said.
Well, she hadn’t seen Madison for years, so maybe it was natural that she hugged her to pieces. Then, she met Sean and learned that he, too, had worked with Eddie Archer at one time.
“But you’re FBI now?”
“Stranger things will happen,” Sean assured her.
“Ah, yes... Well, I suppose so.” She grew somber and said in a husky whisper, “Nothing was stranger—ever—than watching Cara Barton be murdered. Nothing. So horrible.” She shuddered.
“And yet...it was just a little over two weeks ago,” Sean said politely, smiling.
It was impossible to tell if there was a jab in his words or not.
“I have to survive,” Roberta said. She put an arm around Marnie. “And thanks to friends, I will.”
“And our other friends, I hope,” Marnie murmured. Jeremy and Grayson had yet to arrive.
“Well, I have some other, er, kinds of friends for you,” Madison said, grinning. “Friends of friends. From the team at Archer, we’re providing a bit of decoration.”
As she spoke, convention workers pushed carts up to the booth.
Sean asked Jackson and Bryan for help.
The three of them and the convention workers pulled off the covering sheets.
Madison had managed to get them the creature fabrications and costumes that had been used in the werewolf story line.
The werewolves were magnificent. Just a little taller and bigger than a normal man, intricately created with eyes that looked alive, teeth that gleamed and forms that truly seemed ready to pounce and bounce.
They were all admiring the werewolves, Madison, Roberta and Marnie laughing and talking about the time of their use—“Cara used to call them Tom and Dick!” Marnie told them—when Grayson Adair arrived, laughing delightedly as he remembered them, as well.
“I think I finally got to beat Tom over there to pieces!” he said.
Roberta added, “Marnie used her mind play on Dick, and he turned into a Pekingese or something.”
“Yorkie, it was,” Grayson said, grinning at Marnie.
“Yep, a Yorkie,” she agreed.
“Doors are opening to the day crowd. You may be barraged, and I’ll do my best to help,” Shandra told them. She was a tall girl, probably about eighteen, thrilled to be with them—and very, very perky.
Marnie tried to smile at her.
“Jeremy isn’t here yet. Has anybody talked to him?” Marnie asked.
“He isn’t answering his cell,” Roberta said.
Marnie looked at Bryan. He walked over and slipped an arm around her. She knew he was waiting for the results of the tests on her teacup.
She couldn’t believe David Neal had tried to poison her, but Bryan was protective.
It wasn’t a bad thing.
“I’ll find out about Jeremy,” he promised her. Then he added, “Wow!”
The doors had opened. People were flooding in.
Some wore casual dress; many were in T-shirts that advertised their favorite shows, movies or characters; lots were in costumes, from cosplay to Victorian, from the beautiful and sublime to the absolutely horrific.
It seemed that most were heading to the Dark Harbor booth.
That was understandable. There were some pictures left that already had Cara Barton’s signature on them.
They could get big bucks on the internet.
Marnie smiled.
It was time to smile. And thank people, sincerely, for their support.
*
Bryan stood just behind Marnie at the booth, watching.
If anyone came near her, he was ready.
Bridget and Angela were walking around the show floor; he didn’t believe Bridget was a target. He didn’t want her to be collateral damage. She would be good at noting any abnormalities at the show—if anything could be considered an abnormality.
Jackson, Sean and Madison were on the floor near the booth. Many old colleagues were greeting Madison, complimenting her, asking where she’d been.
She’d been aware of the dead for a long while. Bogie had actually been “her” ghost—he had spent his time haunting her, long before she had met and married Sean.
She was good at what she did and excellent at deflecting questions, simply saying she’d found theater work she just loved out East.
Bryan knew Marnie was concerned about Jeremy, and so he called Detective Vining.
Vining was at the show himself, watching the entrance. But he called the officer on duty who was watching over Jeremy. Then he called Bryan back.
“He hasn’t left his house yet,” Vining told him. “The officer watching him has been on duty since 6:00 a.m., and Jeremy hasn’t come out.”
“He’s not answering his cell phone,” Bryan said.
“Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk.”
“He’s supposed to be at Horror-palooza. He wouldn’t just not show up, not without calling to say he was ill or something had come up.” Bryan was speaking softly. In front of him, at the table, Marnie, Roberta and Grayson were signing pictures and speaking reverently about Cara Barton.
Bryan looked around for her ghost.
He didn’t see her.
He imagined she’d show up sooner or later.
This would just be too good for her to miss.
“McFadden, this is a touchy situation.”
“Ask the officer to knock at his door, to try to get him to open up.”
“All right. I’ll get back to you,” Vining promised.
Bryan kept looking over the floor.