Krewe of Hunters, Volume 2: The Unseen ; The Unholy ; The Unspoken ; The Uninvited

by Heather Graham

“That’s great,” Sandy said, then sighed loudly. “Oh, Kelsey! Why couldn’t you have been a runway model? Then I wouldn’t have had to worry about you all the time.”

  Kelsey laughed. “For one thing, I’m not that thin. For another—well, then you’d really have to worry about me. I’m a klutz, and if they’d put me in high heels, I’d have broken my neck on the runway. So, kid, I’m fine, I swear it!”

  Sandy nodded and started to go, but came rushing back, obviously flustered. “Kelsey, he’s down there!”

  “Who is?”

  “Him, him! That hunk-a-hunk Jeff Chasson!”

  “Well, go and play hostess.”

  “He came back here!” Sandy said in awe.

  “You’re the best-looking innkeep in town. Go on! Buy him a drink!”

  Kelsey finally got Sandy to go downstairs. She looked around the room, but whatever momentum she’d found was gone.

  “Why can’t we figure out how to do dial-a-ghost?” she muttered to herself.

  She sat on the bed again, gazing at the corner. A moment later, she stood and walked over to the wall, then went out to the hallway and studied the rooms and the doors. It didn’t tell her anything. She came back in, staring at the wall again. The longer she did, the more convinced she became that she was right.

  Now she had a plan.

  And now, all she had to do was work out how to implement it.

  * * *

  Ned Bixby cried when they showed him the photo of his deceased wife. He laid his head on his arms and cried.

  He was oblivious to the other women; he barely glanced at the photographs of the dead.

  But he cried hard tears over his wife.

  Despite that, Jackson and Logan took turns questioning him. He didn’t want a lawyer. No matter what they said, he denied killing his wife.

  Jackson spoke very softly to him. “Ned, you’ve got to help us out. We’re looking at a series of killings here. All the bodies were found in similar condition—decomposed, as you can see. I want things to go easy for you, but this is murder. They’ll search your house, Ned. They have probable cause because of what witnesses have said about your marriage, because you claimed that your wife had gone to New Mexico when it turned out she was dead. They’ll connect all the killings to you, and this is Texas, Ned. There’s a death penalty in this state.”

  “I didn’t kill those women,” he said.

  “Just your wife?” Logan asked him.

  “No, no!” he shouted.

  “Tell us something to give the district attorney,” Jackson said. “We don’t quite understand what—”

  “I didn’t kill my wife or anyone!” Ned exploded before Jackson could finish.

  “If you’re guilty,” Logan began, “we—”

  Ned went very still. He wiped his eyes and cheeks, and stared at them. “I deserve to die,” he said suddenly.

  “Ned, we need to know what happened.”

  “It was me! I did it. I killed them. I killed them all,” he burst out. “Now I’m done. Arrest me. And I want an attorney.”

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Ned Bixby was arraigned. Now, they had to wait until he had an attorney before they could talk to him again, although a search warrant was being issued for his house and car. Logan reminded the D.A. that the document had to be carefully worded; they didn’t want to discover that Ned Bixby had a toolshed or other extra building that, if not included, couldn’t be searched. They were looking specifically for a knife and for drugs and drug paraphernalia and, Logan added, for any reference to the Alamo, the Longhorn Saloon or the Galveston diamond.

  The D.A. listened to Logan and then sighed. “Half the people in Texas and ninety percent of San Antonio have books that refer to the Alamo.”

  “We’ll weed through it all,” Jackson said. “Please. It’s important.”

  At last, the two of them returned to the task force office. Jake, Jane and Kat were there, taking calls and making notes.

  “Where’s Kelsey?” Logan asked, concerned.

  Jane raised her head from a file she’d been attaching notes to. “She left. Actually, a while ago now.”

  “She didn’t say where she was going?”

  “No, but she sounded like she wouldn’t be long,” Jake said. He frowned. “Sorry, this place is a madhouse. We’ve got a bunch of calls from palm readers who want to visit the corpses and touch their hands.”

  Nodding, Logan tried to appear calm as he slid his cell phone from his pocket.

  What was it with the woman?

  Still, she had a firearm and was trained to use it. She knew what she was doing.

  He was almost certain that she wasn’t going to answer her phone.

  But she did.

  “O’Brien.”

  “Kelsey, where the hell are you?”

  “I’m at the Longhorn. Logan, can you come here?”

  She was speaking in a hushed voice.

  “You never came back to the station. Kelsey, we picked up Cynthia Bixby’s husband. He confessed to all the murders.”

  “And you believe him?” she asked.

  “No,” he admitted.

  “I know I should be there, but…can you come here?”

  “Yes.”

  Logan closed his phone. “She’s at the Longhorn and she asked me to meet her there,” he told Jackson. “I’ll call in.”

  As he started out, Kat called him back.

  “Logan, she was talking to friends of our victims. You should know that Linsey Applewood was big into the occult. Kelsey also talked to the truck driver who drove Sheryl Higgins to San Antonio. Apparently, she made spare money as a palm reader.”

  “Thanks,” Logan said.

  “We’re still weeding through tips,” Jake assured him.

  Logan thanked him, then headed out. He was tempted to run his siren, but he didn’t allow himself to do it.

  Help me, help them, help her.

  He’d just talked to Kelsey on the phone, and she was fine.

  The saloon had filled up when he arrived. Cowboys crowded the bar stools and the tables. He noted that Ted Murphy was there and that the film crew had returned. Absent was Corey Simmons.

  He made his way to the bar, where Bernie Firestone hailed him. “You have one of my actors,” he said glumly.

  “His wife is among the dead, I’m afraid,” Logan said.

  “He didn’t kill her, I’m sure of it. Ah, well, thank God I’m not the producer on this thing. I can take a day or two to drink away my frustration!” Bernie lifted his glass. “Join me?”

  “Maybe in a bit.”

  Murphy was behaving himself, eyeing Logan but not talking and not trying to entice him into a drink, either.

  Ricky, rushing about with a tray of filled glasses, finally noticed him.

  “Hey, Logan. You look like you need a cool one.”

  “Thanks, but I’m looking for Kelsey.”

  “She’s in her room.”

  He started to leave, then hesitated. “Where’s Corey Simmons? Doesn’t he usually hang out here around this time?”

  “He was going to pass out,” Ricky said. “I convinced him to go to bed.”

  Logan dashed up the stairs. As he reached the gallery, his heart quickened when he heard a sharp cry from the area of Kelsey’s room.

  Room 207.

  And Corey Simmons was up here, too.

  He ran the rest of the way to her room and tried the door. It was locked. He stepped back to slam his shoulder against it to break in. As he did, Kelsey opened the door. She was covered with white dust, but she stepped back quickly, letting him in.

  He looked around the room. Plaster dust was everywhere; part of the wall had been torn out.

  Logan turned back to Kelsey. She gave him a wistful smile of both triumph and sadness. “I’ve found Sierra Monte,” she said quietly, and pointed to the gaping hole in the wall.

  Chapter 14

  Kelsey took Logan over to the wall she’d begun to dismantle and the cor
pse that had been lodged there.

  Tearing the wall apart hadn’t been easy.

  Using only her pocketknife, she’d systematically cut through the drywall and old lathing. She’d done her best to keep the damage down, knowing that this was her friend’s place of business, and yet she’d been absolutely convinced the woman’s ghost clung to that area for a reason.

  Logan closed the door and locked it.

  “Did you just cry out?” he asked.

  “Yes, I didn’t mean to, but when I found the body…”

  He leaned against the door, giving her a chance to explain.

  “I know it looks crazy, but the logic is really simple. Think about it. The blood had been all over the room, nowhere else. Sierra Monte was definitely killed here, but the team working the case believed the body had been taken elsewhere because she wasn’t here. The inn was being renovated at the time. Most of the rooms had just been redone, so no one would notice this particular section of wall…. And while Sandy would’ve repainted, there was no reason for her to dig into walls that had recently been repaired when she had so much else to work on. It’s all logical,” Kelsey insisted.

  He was watching her, his expression skeptical.

  She sighed. “Okay, screw logic. The shadow on the film was in this area, and today I saw them, Logan. I saw them both. Sierra and Rose. They were hovering in this corner.”

  Logan walked toward her, still silent. He came to stand directly in front of her, and then he reached down, planting an enormous kiss on her lips.

  “You’re brilliant!” he told her.

  She smiled. “And now you’re covered in plaster, too. I’ve got a disaster going here, but I didn’t want to make too much noise and I didn’t want to ask Sandy’s permission…. We have to call in forensics, though. I’m not sure of my sanity in this—Sandy has so much to deal with right now—but this is a murdered woman, someone who was flesh and blood.”

  Logan pulled out his phone. “I’m calling Jackson. He’ll do this from the FBI end, and he can bring in Kat and he’ll let me call the shots on the crime scene, though God knows we never seem to get anything from the bodies. Still, there’s always that one time a killer makes a mistake, and we could get a hair or a fiber or something. Maybe even DNA that matches DNA in the system.”

  As he spoke to Jackson Crow, he inspected the wall she’d dug out, using nothing but that small knife. She’d ripped through drywall and lathe, slowly and methodically. It had been worth it.

  Within twenty minutes, Jackson Crow had arrived with Kat Sokolov. He inspected Kelsey’s finding, as well, and stood silently for a few minutes, considering the situation. “We need crime-scene people here,” he said flatly.

  “I need her out of the wall,” Kat told them.

  “But Ted Murphy is down there, not to mention the fact that the place is jumping,” Kelsey said.

  “Murphy is going to be a sensationalist no matter what we do.” Logan shrugged. “Nothing’s going to change that. Kelsey, do you want to tell Sandy what you found? We don’t have to clear the bar—there’s no point. But we have to have our people in here. We can rope off the upstairs, and only overnight guests can have access to the gallery.”

  “What do we tell the customers down there?” Kelsey asked.

  “Nothing,” Logan said wearily, wiping plaster dust from his cheek. “We’ll get a spokesperson on it. Other than that, they can guess all they want.”

  Kelsey walked over to the door.

  “Kelsey.” Logan stopped her.

  He sent her a wry grin. “If you go downstairs looking like that, people are going to think you’re the ghost of Room 207.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Kelsey nodded, and headed into the bathroom. She tried washing her face and shaking out her hair. Kat came in behind her and began patting at her clothes.

  Kelsey studied herself in the mirror. She and Kat seemed to have gotten off most of the paint chips and plaster dust, and she looked more or less presentable. She brushed her hair and put on some fresh makeup, then squared her shoulders.

  “Ready.”

  It was with an almost unbearable pain in her heart that she went down and sought out Sandy. She was going to tell the friend who’d given her hospitality that she might be about to destroy not just her business but her dream. However, the Longhorn had survived before. It would do so again.

  She saw Ted Murphy, ostensibly chatting with friends at one of the tables. He’d stay away from Logan, she was sure.

  But he watched. He watched all the time.

  She saw Bernie Firestone and Earl Candy at the bar, and they both hailed her with friendly waves. She waved back, but kept searching the crowd for Sandy.

  She found her sitting, enthralled, with Jeff Chasson.

  Kelsey wondered why she felt so protective of her. Sandy was very pretty, and there was no reason she couldn’t attract the sexiest man in any crowd. But Kelsey didn’t believe that anything about Jeff Chasson was real. Why he would want more information on the grisly doings at the Longhorn, she didn’t know. But she felt he was a worm, trying to wriggle his way into something.

  And now, of course, he was there when she needed to speak with Sandy alone. As she walked over to the table, Chasson looked up at her and stood, offering her a strange smile. She had the feeling that he was always on the lookout for whatever he might be able to use. Or another conquest, perhaps…

  “Marshal O’Brien. Have a drink with us?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Kelsey replied. “But I’ve come to steal Sandy away from you for a few minutes. Sandy, please?”

  Sandy frowned at her. “Kelsey, Jeff and I were sharing some experiences. Can’t you just talk to us both?”

  “I really need to speak with you alone,” Kelsey said.

  Sandy got to her feet, giving Kelsey a look of confused anger.

  “Please,” Kelsey murmured.

  As she gripped Sandy’s arm to lead her toward the stairs, Sandy pulled back. “What are you doing to me? He’s the best possibility I’ve had of sex with anything decent in, like, forever!”

  “Sandy, you have to give me a minute.”

  But Sandy wrenched her arm away. “What? What? I know your work’s all-important, and that you’re big-shot law stuff but, Kelsey, come on! We lower mortals need lives, too!”

  That startled Kelsey and angered her. “Sandy, I found Sierra Monte!” she snapped.

  “What?” Sandy’s cry and the white look of pure horror on her face made Kelsey feel instantly sorry and apologetic that she’d blurted out the words.

  “She was in the wall,” Kelsey said.

  “You…you…found her? In the wall? My wall?” Sandy asked. “No, oh, no. No, no, no. Not all this again. Oh, my God. Oh, Lord.”

  Kelsey was afraid Sandy was going to faint. But when she tried to help her, Sandy shook her off and stood on her own. “Why?” she asked, and it sounded as if she was going to cry. “Why were you digging in my wall?”

  “It was logical, Sandy, and she was there.”

  “I didn’t know for sure she was dead…and if I didn’t know, I didn’t have to care. Oh, Kelsey!”

  “Sandy, please! The girl was brutally murdered.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry, and…and now—”

  “We’re going to handle it as carefully as possible. All we have to do is block off the gallery, so our crime-scene people can make it through. We have to get her out of the wall, Sandy.”

  Sandy stared at her blankly.

  “You don’t have to clear out the bar, and you don’t have to do anything tonight. I’ll bring them in discreetly. Overnight guests will still be able to get to their rooms,” Kelsey said quickly.

  Sandy seemed to be letting it all sink in. “No. No. I’ll take care of this. You go ahead and call the people you have to call.”

  Sandy escaped her and headed for the bar. She crawled up on one of the stools with the help of the surprised cowboy she’d rather rudely unseated.

  “Everyone, please!”
she shouted.

  The piano player stopped playing. People were still talking, but Sandy raised her voice and shouted again. “Please! I have a very important announcement!”

  At last, the room went silent.

  Sandy pointed toward Kelsey. “My very good friend Marshal Kelsey O’Brien has done the Longhorn, and the city of San Antonio, a great service. God knows how she figured it out, but Kelsey has just solved a mystery that’s plagued our city’s finest—she’s discovered the remains of Sierra Monte, the young lady who disappeared from Room 207 about a year ago. And she found her right in Room 207.”

  A shocked murmur rose and grew louder; everyone looked over at her.

  “My God!” someone shouted. Ted Murphy, of course.

  “But!” Sandy roared above the crowd, quieting it again. “I’ve been informed that we don’t need to close down. Forensics people are coming. We need to give them free passage and easy access to the stairs, so no one up in the gallery, okay? Unless you’re a guest and you want to go to bed. I don’t know anything more at this time, and I don’t think even Marshal O’Brien does. I beg you, however, to stay, to drink, to play. Tragedy struck the Longhorn—that’s something we already knew. But the saloon is still an incredible piece of history, as is our beloved Alamo. Thank you, my friends.”

  Sandy accepted the cowboy’s help in stepping down from the bar stool. She stared across at Kelsey, and with a nod of thanks, Kelsey hurried back up the stairs.

  * * *

  The forensics people were going to be at it through the night, surveying the wall and determining how best to remove the corpse. Kat planned to stay and supervise, and after a while, it seemed that there was nothing left for Kelsey to do but leave.

  Logan told her, “Pack up a few things. There’s no sleeping here tonight.”

  “I know this puts Sandy in a bad position,” she said, “but there was nothing I could do. I still feel as if I pushed her right over the edge. Ted Murphy is downstairs. It’ll take a crane to get him out of the place. It’s like death has become a spectator sport.”

  Logan mulled that over. Sadly, throughout history, death sometimes had been a spectator sport.

  “Kelsey, you did the right thing. You realized Sierra had to be in the wall. You dug her out. What else could you do?”