“What?” Jeremy prompted.
“He said he could show me the mysteries of the cornfields. The cornfields.”
He stared at Jeremy as if puzzled himself.
“And then?”
“Then I said something about having an appointment and kept moving, because to tell you the truth, he kind of creeped me out.”
“What did he do? Anything—”
“He just laughed and said I was going to be sorry,” Rolfe said. He looked pensive for a moment, then shrugged—almost as if he were shaking off uncomfortable memories. “Who knows? Could have been coincidence. Or maybe he did know me and knew I used to make scarecrows. What do you think? Do you think he knew me?”
“Probably,” Jeremy said. Eric Rolfe was either telling the truth or he’d learned a hell of a lot about acting out in Hollywood.
“Do you think that guy is the killer?” Rolfe asked suddenly.
“I don’t know what to think. No one can find him.”
Rolfe shook his head thoughtfully, his features scrunched into a frown. “I swear, I didn’t recognize him, but then again…he had on a turban. And makeup. Facial hair—fake facial hair, I can assure you of that. It’s like trying to recognize Santa Claus, you know?”
Jeremy pulled a card from his pocket. “If you come up with anything concrete…”
“Yeah, yeah, call you.”
Jeremy laughed. “If you come up with solid facts, call the cops. But if anything occurs to you that you’re not a hundred percent sure about, then yes, call me.”
“A pleasure. How’s Ro, by the way?”
“Good.”
“Good?” Rolfe echoed doubtfully.
“Beautiful,” Jeremy said.
Rolfe’s grin deepened. “Give her my regards. I can’t wait to see her.”
“I’m sure you’ll see her soon. And you know, I really am here to help out a friend.”
“Brad Johnstone,” Eric said.
“You’ve met him?” Jeremy asked.
Rolfe shook his head. “No, I haven’t met him. But I read the papers, and it’s all the talk around town. Or it was.” He sighed. “The way of the world. A corpse beats a missing woman.” Eric paused. “I did see him on Halloween, though. Him and his wife.”
“Where?”
“They were holding hands, walking into the cemetery.”
“You saw them go in, but you never saw Mary come out?”
“I was walking down the street, not hanging around spying on them,” Rolfe said, sounding tired and impatient. “You couldn’t miss them, because they were beautiful. I admit it. I was thinking they would have made the perfect opening for a horror movie. The beautiful couple, dusk coming, the ancient tombstones. I saw them go in. I walked on by.”
“No one saw anything,” Jeremy muttered, disgusted.
“Hell, it was Halloween. Pretty much anything could have happened and no one would have thought a thing about it,” Rolfe said.
He stood and walked out of the kitchen, and Jeremy had no choice but to follow him back toward the front door.
But on the way, Eric paused in the living room and stared at his bookcase.
“You know, I’ve done some macabre makeup in my day. I’ve made a gorgeous woman look like a crone and the heartthrob of the month look like a three-thousand-year-old mummy. I’ve made people look like trees, goats, dogs, bears, you name it. And yet…”
“And yet?”
Eric Rolfe turned and stared at Jeremy. “And yet, no matter what you do—even with contact lenses—there’s still something about the eyes. I can always recognize anyone in makeup, because of the eyes.” He hesitated for a second. “And that’s what’s bugging the shit out of me now. It was his eyes. That Damien guy. He stared at me…and I felt like I knew him and didn’t like what I knew. There was something in the way he looked at me.”
“What about his voice?” Jeremy asked.
Eric seemed startled by the question.
“I don’t know.”
“Well, what did he sound like?”
Rolfe thought about it. “He didn’t have a heavy accent, but…he sounded a bit English, maybe. He definitely didn’t have a Boston accent. He was kind of formal, proper. I don’t know. I’m a visual guy. Sorry.”
“But voices are telling, too. If you heard him again, would you know him?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Well, do me a favor. Keep thinking about it,” Jeremy told him.
“Sure. Does that mean I’m off the hook?” Rolfe asked. He spoke with dry amusement; clearly he already knew the answer.
“Not yet,” Jeremy assured him.
They kept walking then, and Jeremy headed out. He was almost to the car when Rolfe called to him and he turned back.
“If I could see him, maybe. I’m telling you, even with the contact lenses…there was something about his eyes. Something I knew. And I really do think—I’m actually afraid—he knew me.”
12
It was daylight, and still relatively early. The darkness wouldn’t come for another hour, at least.