She groaned and turned to leave. “Guys!”
“Yeah, you’d better get up there and get ready. He had some coffee with us and said that he’d be back for you, that we should make sure that you’re awake.”
She nodded. By then, Leo, Brad and Terry were also in the room, all of them staring at her...and smirking.
“I’m awake. I’m getting ready! If you all will quit laughing at me and let me excuse myself,” Avalon said.
“Wait—we’re not laughing at you,” Lauren protested. “We’re happy for you!”
“And wait,” Leo said. He disappeared and reappeared almost instantly with a cup of coffee for her. “We’re your friends, remember. We just think it’s cool if...”
“Leo is trying to let you know that we’ve given Special Agent Finley Stirling our nod of approval,” Boris told her.
“Now if he’ll only give it back to us,” Leo said. “Anyway, maybe I’ll entertain some kids on the street today, if anyone wants to come with me.”
Lauren nodded. “I’ll do your makeup. More practice for me.”
“You have a job offer, here, in the city. I don’t believe anyone would have a problem with you taking work that’s in town,” Boris told her.
Lauren shook her head. “I’m sticking with you guys a bit longer. Eventually, I guess, we’ll all have to get going, but...hey! Avalon—get going! Maybe you can help our boy solve this thing and let us all try to get on with life.”
Maybe. Avalon wasn’t sure. It seemed that strange events just crashed down on other strange events, and they might all be tangled up, and they might not.
But she smiled at them all, shook her head and headed for the stairs, now balancing the blanket, the pillow and her cup of coffee.
She paused at the foot of the stairs. “Thank you all for your blessing. But you will note the flannel, me on the sofa, him on the chair. I was just...unnerved. I needed company.”
Lauren laughed. “Could have come to my room.”
“I don’t know, Lauren. You’re pretty cute,” Kevin teased. “But Agent Stirling is hot.”
Avalon let out a groan and hurried on up the stairs.
* * *
Fin knew it wouldn’t take him long to get to his place, shower and change, and get back. Still, when he’d woken up, he’d delayed leaving.
He’d waited until Kevin and Lauren had been awake and moving, along with Terry and Boris.
He didn’t believe that any of the cast and crew were involved. It was natural that Avalon should fight against that idea, but he had learned that during an investigation, all possibilities had to be considered. So, while he wanted to believe that they were innocent, he needed to make sure that several of them were awake before he left.
He had an instinct about Kevin—the man really cared about Avalon. He was equally convinced that everything about Lauren was honest, and all reports pointed to a man, or two men, being the perpetrator.
He’d seen many things. Not “just about everything,” because the evil that could exist in humanity never ceased to surprise him. But, in this case, he had an instinct about Lauren, and he prayed that he was right.
He’d just come out of the shower when his phone rang. He’d thought that it might be Angela. But it wasn’t—rather, it was the crime-scene investigator in Biloxi, Bert Nelson.
“Thanks for calling me—you have something?”
“We dug and dug, and while we can’t be sure when this was lost, we did come up with something in the bushes right off the road.”
“What did you find?”
“It’s a medallion. Not a necklace, just a medallion—a souvenir. Naturally, we investigated where it might have come from originally. I’m sending you pictures, front and back. There’s a popular rock band out—been hitting the charts about three years now—called Pauly’s Pariah. These medallions were one of their promo items, given out at their concerts. I went back with Tom Drayton and we searched through records trying to find out if Ellen Frampton had been to a concert given by the group, of if any of her known friends or associates had any connection to the band. We found nothing. Also, whoever handled the medallion last was wearing gloves. No prints whatsoever, wiped clean. That’s what we found.”
“Thank you. It may just lead us somewhere we need to go,” Fin told him.
He ended the call quickly, anxious to get the information to Angela, and not sure that it would have gone through all the official channels yet.
He reported to her and she promised she’d take their list of characters and find out who might have been at a Pauly’s Pariah concert, or been involved with the band in any way.
He was already in the car, on his way to pick up Avalon, when he got a call back from Angela.
“Anyone?” he asked.
“Interesting group of characters, actually,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Boris Koslov directed a video for them just about three years ago.”
“Three years ago?”
He’d just left Avalon at the house with Boris Koslov!
“Just about. And while some of it was filmed here—at a pretty old mansion with a phenomenal ballroom and staircase—a lot of it was filmed outside of New Orleans, out near the Chalmette Battlefield. But, Fin, he’s not the only one who had something to do with them. There’s video of the making of the video—Lauren Carlson was doing makeup for the band, and Terry Jenson was working on the set design. But one of our new people, an absolute wizard with facial-recognition software, ran footage of people in the audience, extras hired to dance and cheer on the band. Julian Bennett can be seen in one of the crowd scenes.”
“Thanks. Can you find out where the band is located now? I understand that they’ve become popular in the last few years, so I imagine they could be anywhere.”
“Yes, they could be. But they just came off tour and Paul McMasters, the lead singer, is from Houma, so it’s likely that he and his main bandmates—brothers Sean and Perry Adair—are with him. There’s about two weeks before they’re due to be working back in the studio and the studio they use is in New Orleans.”
“Thanks.”
“There’s more.”
“Yeah?”
“Avalon Morgan is in it, too.”
Everything seemed to circle around.
Avalon. He knew that Avalon had not had anything to do with what had happened.
But Boris...
Boris seemed to be just about everywhere.
“I’m going to get Jackson and Adam working on finding the right connection for you to get to visit with them, if you wish. Then again, maybe Miss Morgan has an in with them.”
“I’m heading to Houma now and the police station there. As soon as I pick up Avalon. I wanted to get out to Christy Island, too. We’ll see if we can get it all in—if I can contact the band members—or if Avalon does have an in and can arrange for me to see them or at least one of them.”
“Right. I’ll get back to you on that. But I was about to call you about another piece of this puzzle. Officer Jodi Marsh has been working with our computer tech people here, trying to trace the writing—and the image—that Avalon saw.”
“And?”
“They found something on the dark web—not traceable yet, but we’ll keep at it.”
“And?” Fin asked.
“A fan seemed to have loved what was written. Of course, we aren’t sure it’s what Avalon saw, but it sounds close, if not. Even with the dark web, you can track down certain things but not all—if someone was at a public venue and hacked into someone else’s internet, we’re looking at another whole skein of possibilities. I’ve sent you what Jodi and our team found. They’re like dogs with a bone. When you’re good at this stuff, a challenge like this is a puzzle that has to be solved.”
“You’re good at this stuff.”
“Not like these guys. I know you’re in a hurry but take a minute to read what I’m emailing you. You know the people involved—you’ve seen them all in action. Something may click.”
“Wouldn’t that be great?” he said.
“You will get there,” Angela said softly. “Read what I sent you.”
They ended the call and Fin pulled off the street before opening his email from her and reading what Angela had sent him.
It was titled “My Fantasy Murder.”
First, I’d stalk my prey. She’d be unknown, a goddess, but I would see her, and I would know. I would watch the way that she moved, the way that she breathed, the way that her eyes would light when she laughed. I would be close enough at times to smell the sweetness that emanated from her supple flesh. I might brush by her.
Beauty knows no bounds. I have seen these goddesses in every ethnicity. Beauty covers the world. True beauties are rare, but they come from every continent—they are Asian, African, Australian, South and North American, European...a little laugh here, okay, I’ve yet to encounter a goddess from Antarctica.
But I am good. I am a hunter, a stalker, and I know how to smile and laugh and charm. And I find my beauties...
Fantasy. So... I find my goddess. I am a gentleman, a rugged, charming gentleman. We play and we tease, and we drink, and it’s divine. That’s just it—it’s all divine. I did say goddess.
I wait until we are so relaxed. She’s at ease with me. I make it clear that I don’t expect intercourse...yet.
And when she is laughing, playing, enjoying me, looking at me with that divine sparkle in her eyes, I strike...
It’s so beautiful. Watching her. Because she cannot fight—she knows and knows that she cannot fight. And I hold her and assure her and watch the light slowly fade. She’s in my arms—she’s still warm. There’s a perfect temperature and I wait for that...and then, I give her the divine ecstasy of my love. There is no greater high. When we are done, I take her so tenderly. I care for her. I lay her out in beauty. Eternal beauty. And it’s all as it should be, ashes to ashes, and dust to dust, with all that is beautiful and divine in between.
He sat in silence, chilled to the bone. While Avalon had tried to remember the words that had been in the essay, she’d been upset, she’d seen it so briefly...
She hadn’t quite described just how disturbing and sick the written words were.
He felt himself anxious to get to her again.
He needed to get Avalon, get to Houma, continue the steps of his investigation. Go through the day. And when the day was done, with just possibly more learned from the Houma sources, he would read the words again, and think of the people involved. Think of who he knew who might write in such a manner.
Luckily, the street space he had left behind forty minutes earlier was still there; he parked the car and hurried to the house, telling himself it was ridiculous to think that anything had happened in the time that he’d been gone.
But Boris had been on the island when Cindy West’s body had been displayed on the tomb.
And he’d directed a video for a band, and one of their promotional items had been found near the site of another display.
There was another dead girl who had been found in waters of the bayou...
And Avalon was in the house with Boris.
So were others.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Avalon might be a target.
* * *
Avalon had showered the night before, but showering was a good way to wake up.
She didn’t take long; when she closed her eyes, she saw again the flash of death she had seen on her tablet the night before.
The knife, the blood, the human being.
She emerged from the shower and dressed for the day, thinking that she needed most to be practical. They’d be in Houma, and then they’d be back on the island.
Police were taking shifts, watching over the forensic crews who were still combing the place. She figured that they’d finish soon.
And then what?
She couldn’t imagine the place where their dead friend had been left displayed on a tomb becoming a tourist attraction. And yet...
That was why they sometimes saw the dead. Saw those who stayed behind. Because history brought with it the good, the bad and the heroic.
And the very ugly.
The heirs hated the island. They just wanted to get rid of it. According to them, none of their parents had cared for old man Christy; he had lived in solitude and died in solitude.
She wondered what he had really been like.
That was something she needed to ask Fin about—he seemed to be able access information on just about anything.
Because if there had been something off about the old man...
Maybe that something had come through to his heirs...
No, no, no, she told herself. The sins of the fathers did not come down on the sons.
She looked at herself in the mirror. No fear in her eyes. Clothing—serviceable.
She was going to be strong. And if seeing the ugly might mean getting to the end of it, she was ready.
She glanced at her watch. Right on time. Fin would be there any second.
While she felt constantly torn in his company, there was one thing she believed: he was passionate about finding Cindy’s killer. And he saw the dead, too. She didn’t have to pretend with him. Now if only she didn’t have to pretend that she was feeling such a growing attraction to him, as complex as that seemed to be, she’d be just fine.
What the hell.
She was an actress. Right now, she wanted to be as helpful as humanly possible, as strong, as courageous—and, dammit, she had the same passion as Fin to solve Cindy’s murder.
He had said that he wouldn’t stop.
Well, neither would she!
Eleven
Fin rang the bell, and somehow schooled himself not to bang on the door. He needed to compartmentalize—push the web page to the back burner. The investigation today—with Avalon at his side—should be foremost in his mind.
Kevin opened the door, smiling in greeting. “She’s up—she’s ready. We even made her drink a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll run and get her for you.” Lauren waved as she headed up the stairs.
“Kevin, you know about a group called Pauly’s Pariah, right?” Fin asked casually as he stepped into the living room.
“Oh, sure, yeah—you must have heard of them, too. Come on, man, you’re an FBI agent—not the walking dead!”
Fin grimaced and had to laugh. “Hey, I like music—tend toward rock and jazz.”
“They do that song, ‘Hold on to Me.’ That’s the one that made them popular. And they’re very theatrical. I was jealous—Boris directed a video for them. I couldn’t be in it—I was working on Broadway at the time, and man...okay, it was as a horse’s foot, but I was on Broadway.”
“I have heard of the band—you’re right. I know that song. But Broadway is great,” Fin agreed.
“Yeah, but the band is getting really good. Lauren worked with them, and...yeah, Terry, too. That’s the promise of being a struggling young actor. Sometimes it’s feast, and sometimes it’s famine.” He grew quiet. “That’s the thing, you know. You work so hard. Boris had such dreams for getting his movie made. And if it was a hit—cult hit, being horror and B budget—we’d have all benefited. You haven’t seen the video, huh? Because, if you had, you’d know it.”
“I’d recognize their work?”
“Maybe. But you wouldn’t miss Avalon.”
“Ah, of course. Avalon was in it, too.”
“Yeah, as the object of the lead singer’s affections. YouTube it—it will come up. She does websites for other people, and never really pushes herself enough. But it’s a cool video, really. Anyway...aha! Speak of the devil...or devil-ett
e or -ess? She appears!”
Avalon was coming down the stairs. She was wearing leggings with a long knit jacket, hair pulled back in a single braid, as if she was ready for anything.
“Devil-ette?” she asked Kevin.
“In the very best way,” he said.
“Okay. We’re off. If we’re going to be late, I’ll call.”
“We’re going to be late,” Fin told Avalon, then turned to Kevin. “But we’ll keep you posted so that you don’t worry.”
They started out and she paused, turning back to Kevin. “You guys be careful, okay?”
“We’ll stick together like glue,” he promised.
“Watch Lauren,” Fin said. “Don’t let her be alone.”
“You think—”
“Ryder has cops watching, but who knows right now? Don’t let Lauren be alone, hit 911 at anything suspicious, inside the house or out.”
He had Avalon with him but felt a pang of worry at leaving the others alone.
Avalon arched an eyebrow, then Fin bid Kevin goodbye, thanking him for making sure that Avalon was awake and ready to go.
As they headed to his car, he called Ryder.
She was clearly listening as he asked for officers to make sure that the house and all inside it were safe during the day and when night fell.
“All right, what the hell is going on?” she demanded as they reached the car.
He didn’t answer her as he opened the passenger side door for her, but asked, “How well do you know the band Pauly’s Pariah?”
“I was in a video for them. It was a good-paying gig—and I have Boris to thank for it. He called me because he remembered me from when he’d lectured me as a student. He’s done great things for me, really. And others.”
He didn’t reply, just walked around and took his seat on the driver’s side of the car. He felt her watching him as he started the car and rolled out into traffic.
“Fin!”
He sighed. “We’re not sharing this yet, and it may mean nothing, but one of the band’s souvenir medallions was found on the road out behind the Grimsby Estate,” he told her.
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