They all stared back at him. Then someone started to cry.
“I’m not trying to upset you. I’m trying to find her killer,” he said. “If anyone remembers anything else, please get hold of us as quickly as you can.” He stood and handed out his cards, then turned to introduce Lee Van Camp. “If you don’t reach me or someone at the main number on that card, call the station—or you can call Detective Van Camp directly.”
Lee nodded and walked around the room, also handing out cards.
“Thank you all for coming in,” Aidan said.
“We’re free to go?” someone asked.
“You’re free to go.” Purbeck had been just outside, by the door. When the last of the Haunted Mausoleum employees had filed out, he came in to speak to Aidan.
“I heard from the M.E.,” he said quietly. “Same everything. Chloroform to knock out his victim. Manual strangulation—and then beheading. There’s one thing that’s a little bit different. He’s cleaner with his hatchet. He’s learning how to remove the head with greater ease.”
Aidan was silent for a minute. “They say that the horror of the French Revolution went on as long as it did because the guillotine was so swift and sure. We have to stop this guy before he gets any better.”
“Well, in a way, we’re further behind than we were. The charges against Jillian Durfey have been dismissed. No judge was going to hold her to a court date with this new killing that’s taken place,” Purbeck said.
“We need another task force meeting,” Aidan told him. “We’re moving in the right direction. What we need is a lot more research. The killer is organized, knowledgeable and intelligent—and he’s thumbing his nose at us. Can we get everyone together?”
“Van Camp?”
“Thirty minutes, sir.”
“What about your people, Mahoney?”
“Logan is here. Sloan is at the morgue. Jane and Will are watching Richard Highsmith’s people.”
“Highsmith’s bunch is free to leave at any time,” Purbeck reminded Aidan.
“We’re still following them,” Aidan said. He smiled at Mo and inclined his head. “I think a few of your coworkers are hanging around out in the hall, waiting for you.”
“Oh,” she said. “I’m not sure—”
“We have thirty minutes,” he said. “Want some coffee?”
“Some? I’d take a gallon.”
She walked to the door with Rollo on a short leash. When she turned, Aidan and Logan were behind her. Logan was friendly and courteous; he had an air of easy confidence about him and a polite concern for those around him. She thought he was a good match for Aidan. They seemed to work well together, as equals.
They dealt with some horrible cases, she thought. So did she. But sometimes, she found the living. And that made it all worthwhile. Sometimes...
Maybe it even helped the dead, appeased them and brought them peace, when the truth was uncovered and justice was served.
Logan opened the door for her, so she and Rollo stepped out into the hallway.
“We waited for you,” Grace said.
“Yeah, we wanted to say goodbye,” Phil added.
“We couldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” Ron told her. He frowned at Aidan. “I saw him. I saw him and didn’t even know it.”
“Could you speak with a colleague of ours, so she can do a sketch?” Aidan asked. He then introduced Logan to the group.
Purbeck came out. “This is a police station, not a social club!” he said. Then he smiled, belying the harshness of his words. “There’s a coffee shop next door. Get out of here for now, get yourselves something to eat or drink. See what comes up when you relax a bit. That can work, you know. And take Detective Van Camp with you. Van Camp, that’s an order. Grab something to eat. Everyone’s been on this around the clock, and we’re going to have to stay on it around the clock until the killer’s caught, so we’re in it for the long haul. Now go.”
He made a shooing motion. “And be back in thirty!” he said as he turned and walked toward his office.
Van Camp seemed a little uncomfortable.
Grace hooked her arm through his. “Please, Detective, join us. We’re all scared. It’s good to have another cop with us.”
She marched toward the elevators, and Van Camp looked back at them with a hint of panic on his face.
Aidan grinned at Mo. “He’s a good guy,” he said in a low voice.
They were lucky in their timing at the café. It was late for lunch and too early for dinner. They were seated immediately and their waitress promised she’d have their food out quickly.
Mo had been keeping Rollo in his service-dog vest, so there was no problem with having him there. He lay quietly under the table.
Better yet, their waitress was a dog lover. She brought him a huge bowl of water before she even produced menus.