“Maybe you steal from your victims.”
“Enough to buy that television and pay taxes and otherwise support myself? What kind of people do you guys think I’m killing down there? I think somebody, especially Fran Benoit, would notice if people carrying wads of cash in their wallets kept wandering into Whitford only to never be seen again.”
“You’re the only person in the entire town who has a separate security system just for his basement.”
“Why a serial killer, though? Why not the CIA or a mad scientist?”
Katie felt herself blush. “That’s probably my mom’s fault. She’s Fran’s primary gossip buddy and she spends most of her spare time watching Criminal Minds repeats.”
“I’ll show you what I do if you don’t ruin the fun by telling everybody.”
“Really? Just like that?”
Max shrugged. “Josh is always talking shit about your Jeep. I think the idea of him having to wash it once a month is funny, don’t you?”
“I think it’s hilarious.”
She looked away while Max punched numbers in the security box, but she was right on his heels as he went down the steps. Even though, once he hit the switch, the lighting was excellent and the climate control system was obviously top-notch, she had to admit it was a little thrilling going into the basement with the town’s alleged serial killer.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs and he stepped aside, holding his arm out in a ta-da motion, she stopped short. “Toy trains?”
He clutched a hand over his heart as if mortally wounded. “These are not toy trains. They’re highly collectible, precision-engineered brass HO-scale models.”
She was confused. “So you, what…play with them?”
“I paint them. See that one?” He pointed to a brass train engine in a glass case on a shelf, then pointed to his workbench. “I take the brass ones and paint them, making them look authentic with weathering and whatnot.”
Katie walked closer to the bench to look at his work in progress. There were jars of paint, the tiniest brushes she’d ever seen and an airbrush gun around a train lying supported on its side. It looked as if he was in the process of lettering Central Maine Railroad down the side.
Off to the right were more glass cases, and she eyed one engine that looked really old. It was a Union Pacific and the detail was incredible. He didn’t paint them to look nice. He painted them in such a way that the engines looked as though they had actually been worked for decades. “It looks so real.”
“It’s not as exciting as serial killing or the CIA, but I’m very good at it.”
“You’re an artist.”
“And a historian. I have to know the locomotive, the railroad, the numbering system. When people want passenger cars painted, I want them to be one hundred percent authentic. And doing freight means knowing what the different rail lines shipped. I work off of real photographs from the time whenever possible.”
They both turned when footsteps thumped down the stairs and Josh came into view, looking concerned. “Oh, there you are. I couldn’t figure out where Katie went and then I saw the basement door was ajar and…”
“You thought I was torturing and murdering her during halftime.”
Josh gave Max a chagrined look. “Not really, but you have to wonder how many serial killers’ neighbors laughed off the idea they might be living next door to one.”
“True.”
“Are those toy trains?”
Max went through the spiel again and, when he was done, Katie poked a finger at Josh’s chest. “Just to be clear, though, I knew before you did.”
“Shit.” He shook his head, obviously peeved at losing the bet. “Why the extra security?”
“Some of these locomotives are really rare, and even the ones that aren’t cost more than you might think. At any given time I’ve got twenty-to-thirty-grand worth of other people’s property down here and sometimes more. I prefer not to advertise that.”
“If anybody asks what we saw down here,” Josh said, “we’ll tell them nothing but an industrial sink, a meat hook and a dozen chest-style freezers.”
Max grinned. “Excellent.”
Katie followed Josh back up the stairs and, after locking up, Max grabbed the drinks off the counter and headed for the living room.
She hooked her finger through Josh’s belt loop and pulled him close. “I think it’s really sweet how you came running down to the rescue when you thought he might be killing me.”
“I didn’t want to have to tell Rosie I let Max Crawford stuff your body in his freezer.”
She laughed and pushed up on her toes so she could plant a kiss on him. “Chicken. I can’t believe you’d face down a serial killer, but not my mother.”
“At least with a serial killer, I’ve got a fighting chance.”