“I’ve seen Robbie play a woman,” Mo said.
“Please?” Grace continued, as if Mo hadn’t spoken. “My bosses know you and love you, and they said I could ask you first!” she told her. “And you know Sondra, who’s in charge of the horror nights? She loves you. She’s said you’re our best backup possibility.”
Mo sighed. “Okay, okay. Just until Alicia can come back!”
“Pick you up in an hour.” Grace abruptly ended the conversation.
“Fine.”
She hung up. Rollo was by her side, looking at her reproachfully. He must have sensed that she was going out—and that he wasn’t going with her.
“You’ll be okay. Candy and Daniel are here. And you need to watch the house,” Mo said.
As she spoke, Candy came sweeping into the room. “Mo!”
“What?”
“Come! Come quickly.”
Mo followed Candy to the front of the house. When Candy tried to pull back the drapes, they just fluttered, so Mo took over.
“I will move them one day!” Candy insisted.
Mo nodded. “Sure, but what is it, Candy?” she asked.
“Look. Look there.”
Mo did. And then she saw him, a dark figure near the trees. He grew more distinct as she blinked.
It was man, a dead man.
It was Richard Highsmith.
Forgetting safety, Mo rushed to the door and threw it open. She slipped out of the house and called softly, “Hello! I’m here. Come and speak with me!”
The figure seemed to vanish instantly.
There was nothing there now but the trees.
“Told you! Told you he was lurking around,” Candy said.
“Tell me when you see him again, okay? I can’t do anything if he vanishes as soon as I speak. I have to get ready. Thank you, Candy. Maybe...maybe he’ll come closer to the house next time. Maybe you and Daniel can try to reach him.”
“We can try,” Candy promised her. “We can try.”
*
Aidan sat across from Jillian Durfey. She’d been given a soda and he was trying to make the interview easy on her.
She was still crying when he’d arrived.
She’d finally stopped. Now she just sat there dully, repeatedly denying that she’d ever had the chloroform.
There were no prints on the bottle; it had been wiped clean.
An attorney had yet to turn up.
“What do you think could have happened—if you never had the chloroform?” Aidan asked her.
She shook her head, threading her fingers through her hair.
“I...I don’t know. Someone came and put it in my room. I know that much. I’ve never seen that bottle or vial or whatever before. I swear it,” she said. Her voice wasn’t passionate anymore. It was flat and tired.
“Who do you think would have done such a thing?” he asked.
“Someone else.”
“Maybe Muscles? Or Mischief or Magic? Or...Taylor Branch?”
“That would be crazy! We all worked for Richard. We depended on him. We’re all being used and framed.”
He leaned toward her. “Jillian, we’ve pulled the security tapes from your hallway. If anyone went to your room, we’ll find out who it was.” That wasn’t the truth. The hotel manager had been apologetic and mortified to tell them that at the moment, the security cameras were for show. Their first company hadn’t worked out. The camera systems had failed and they were in process of redesigning the system.
But Jillian didn’t know that.
She lifted her head and looked at him. “All I can tell you is it wasn’t me.”
He leaned back in his chair, watching her.
“I loved him. It wasn’t me,” she said again.
Sloan was with Taylor Branch in another interrogation room. Voorhaven and Van Camp were working with Muscles, Mischief and Magic, leaving one man alone and observed by Purbeck while he waited his turn. Separating them—giving them time to sweat and wonder what the others were saying—was one way of getting at the truth.
“I don’t know what’s going on. But look at me! I’m barely a hundred pounds!” she said in confusion. “How on earth could I have done this? Knocked out a big man, dragged him to some other place and cut off his head, then found a woman and attacked her, too—all while doing the sound check.” She hesitated and seemed to brighten. “Bari!” she said. “You have to talk to Bari, the woman from the convention center. She’ll tell you. She saw me all the time. Well, almost all the time. Oh! That’s who else you need to check out—the convention center people! They were in charge of the trucks and vendors bringing people into the parking lot. Someone—”
There was a tap at the door, and Aidan rose and went to open it. Purbeck was standing there. “Sorry, but there’s a woman who got through to me. She said it’s urgent and that you weren’t answering your cell phone.”
He hadn’t been; he always had it on vibrate when he was in interrogation. He hadn’t felt the vibration, because the phone was in his jacket and it had been thrown over his chair.