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

by Heather Graham

  Logan broke in. “Benny, why don’t you and Sean take Eddie down there? With Madison. We’ve already been, but Eddie Archer might see something else that’s amiss.” He looked at Eddie. “You definitely didn’t go in when you came here the night of the murder?”

  Eddie shook his head. “It was a crime scene, cordoned off. I just listened in complete disbelief when Detective Knox briefed me, and then…then I was with Alistair.”

  “I—I can come if you need me, Eddie,” Helena said.

  He smiled at her. “Thank you, dear, but no.”

  “We’ll wait in the lobby with Helena while you go down,” Logan said, indicating the team.

  Kelsey stepped forward smoothly. “Mrs. Archer, you’re an actress in your own right, aren’t you?” she said smoothly. “I’d love to hear about the roles you’ve played!”

  She glanced back at Sean, linked arms with Helena and started walking her toward the lobby.

  “Mike, Andy—Madison did a terrific job showing us the studio. Perhaps you two could fill me in on what goes on here, day by day. Andy, you and Eddie have been partners since the beginning, right?” Logan said, leading both men out, followed by the others.

  “Let’s do it,” Knox said grimly.

  “Madison?” Sean asked.

  She nodded.

  “You don’t have to come, my dear,” Eddie said.

  “Eddie, I’ve been down there,” she reminded him.

  Sean took her arm as they walked from the cinema to the office and through the door that was usually covered by the poster. They went down the steps and started passing the displays. Knox stopped suddenly in front of the Casablanca exhibit. “Is that a real gun in Bogie’s hand?” he demanded.

  “World War II–issue, yes,” Eddie said. “But there are no bullets in it. I swear. Check it out if you don’t believe me.”

  “I don’t believe anything around here,” Knox muttered. He jumped up into the exhibit to check for himself.

  Sean ignored him, and continued down the tunnel, to the scene of the crime. The smell was growing worse. He made a mental note to tell Logan that they needed to bring in the crime scene cleaners the next day. The answers they needed, he now knew, were behind the tableau, not in the tunnel.

  With Madison at his side, he stared at the tableau.

  “You figured it out the minute I did,” he said, and they both looked at the statue of the warrior, standing at an angle, pushed back behind the jackal.

  “I can’t believe I didn’t see it before,” she told him.

  He shrugged. “Madison, I’ve walked this tunnel as many times as you have, and I’ve supposedly been trained to be observant of details, but I missed it, too.”

  “Alistair wouldn’t have missed it,” she said.

  Sean moved the cord aside and entered the display. He headed straight to the statue of the warrior and turned him around. The way the warrior stood, his shield held high in the other hand, it was easy to see how they’d missed the obvious. They had concentrated on the mannequin of the priest and hadn’t focused on the shelves and canopic jars, the sarcophagus, the cobras in their various positions on the floor—slithering and rising in strike mode.

  “Gloves!” Knox called to him. He walked over, handing Sean a pair from his pocket.

  Sean said, “Thanks,” and put on the latex gloves. It wasn’t going to matter. The killer had dressed in the black face and a robe—and he’d worn gloves when he killed Jenny Henderson. But it was procedure, and God knew, he’d probably already blown enough procedure that day.

  “May I have a pair?” Madison asked. “I can help Sean go through the tableau.”

  Knox grumbled that the FBI should have carried their own, but he produced a pair of gloves and gave them to her. Eddie stood just beyond the cordoned-off area, outside the chalk marks and the blood. He was ashen as he studied the tableau.

  “You see anything else?” Knox asked him.

  “No, but I should’ve come down.” Eddie shook his head. “I think I would’ve known. I’m sure I would’ve seen that the dagger was gone.”

  “Hard to say,” Knox said kindly before turning back to Sean. “I have no idea what you could possibly find. Our forensic people are good. We’ve learned to be detailed and make sure the chain of evidence is solid. We’ve learned the hard way.”

  Madison had bent down by the mummy that lay on the floor—in pieces. She glanced back at the sarcophagus, frowning.

  “What?” Sean asked her.

  “All this stuff was made in Egypt—exact copies of items found in real tombs,” she said. “They sometimes had secret or hidden compartments. I was trying to see if I could find anything that opened, but…it looks like what we see is what there is.”

  Sean came over and began running his hands gently over the wood, trying to determine if there could be such a compartment. But his efforts failed.

  He turned. Eddie was still staring at the tableau; Knox was staring at Eddie. Madison had given her attention to the large canopic jars.

  “Empty,” she said, picking up the last of them. But then she paused. “Sean, this one—it seems too heavy for its size!”

  He took the jar from her and studied it, stuck his gloved hand in it and saw that where he touched wasn’t the bottom.

  He kept twisting the jar, and he heard a little gasp escape Madison’s lips. She was right next to him, almost on top of him. “That’s it, Sean! Keep twisting. The design is changing as you twist it…. There, look, go a bit further, and you’ll see that the two pieces on the design make a sun.”

  He gave it another twist and heard a click. The false bottom in the jar lifted. Beneath that false bottom, he saw something. He touched it.

  Then he pulled the missing dagger out of the canopic jar. It was covered in blood.

  “Well,” he said. “Looks like we’ve found the murder weapon.”

  * * *

  Madison sat in the suite with the others, listening as, one by one, the team members went through their notes on the people they’d interviewed. They asked her questions and she gave her impressions, but she became well aware that there was a great deal of tedium in what they did. However, repetition was essential to ensure that nothing slipped through the cracks.

  They went through the construction crew. Jane, who had interviewed the men and women who’d been working on the scaffolding, told them that every story matched and rang true. Logan had brought back copies of the security footage, and everything they saw verified what had been said. Kat Sokolov had interviewed the seamstresses, the designers and the fabricators, who hadn’t been in since Friday. Logan had spoken at length with both Andy Simons and Mike Greenwood and he’d also called in Eddie’s ex-wife, Benita Lowe, who wanted to believe that his current wife, Helena LaRoux, had been involved. In fact, Benita had said, if Helena wasn’t such an idiot, Benita would be absolutely positive that she was guilty.

  “She told me Helena only pretended to care about Alistair,” Logan told them. “I believe that, but not really caring about her stepson doesn’t make her a murderer.”

  “Yes, true, she may be just a scheming user,” Tyler agreed.

  Kelsey had spoken with Winston Nash and Colin Bailey. Bailey had been agitated, convinced that he’d lost all their chances of finding the real killer—because he had left the guard station to rush out when Alistair had come to him, screaming hysterically.

  “Everyone’s background was thoroughly investigated?” Sean asked.

  “No felons in the lot,” Logan answered. “The worst we’ve found on anyone at the studio was a few unpaid parking tickets.”

  “I’m not thinking so much of criminal activity. I was wondering if anyone associated with either the family or the studio had a relative who worked on the original film.”

  “No one mentioned anything of the kind to the police or to us,” Logan said. “But we can delve deeper. I guess the killer wouldn’t announce that his dad had been a grip or a production assistant on the movie.”

&n
bsp; “What about the dead man, the guy who was killed during filming? Any connections?” Sean asked.

  “Not that we’ve yet discovered.”

  “Anybody have any theories?” Logan threw out his arms.

  “I’m willing to bet it has more to do with the movie, somehow,” Sean said.

  “The movie was filmed in 1942,” Logan reminded him.

  “Yes…but!” Madison said, glancing around as she interjected, hoping they wouldn’t think she was being disruptive and had nothing of importance to say.

  They didn’t. The six members of the Krewe looked at her, waiting.

  “There was trouble with the movie. Not with the stars, although they both had truly sad ends. I’m talking about the accident that occurred on the set—the electrical accident that killed a bit player, Pete Krakowski.”

  “I’m aware of it.” Sean looked at her, frowning. “But it was an accident, right? He was electrocuted.”

  Madison surveyed the group, taking a deep breath. “Bogie didn’t think it was an accident.”

  “Bogie—was he connected to the movie?” Logan asked her. “Where is he…and our victim, by the way? I would’ve thought they’d hang out with us.”

  “The tunnel was too much for Jenny, although she was very brave,” Sean said. “I’m sure Bogie is trying to help her find the place she wants to haunt. Maybe he’s showing her the ropes. Do you think ghosts sometimes serve as mentors to other ghosts?” he asked, his grin lopsided.

  “He’s a good guy. That’s probably what he’s doing,” Madison said. “I’m sure he’ll reappear soon, since he seems willing, maybe even intrigued, to help on this. And no, he wasn’t involved with the movie. He was working on Casablanca at the time. But he knew the electricians and the grips, and he said they didn’t make mistakes. That could mean nothing. The movie was filmed well over fifty years ago now. But all the special effects were created at the studio, which was Claymore Illusions back then.”

  Logan nodded gravely. “We need to look into the past. Because the past can always intrude on the present.” He suddenly yawned. “All right. Knox has taken the dagger to be analyzed by the forensics department. Tomorrow, the studio reopens. That won’t interfere with our investigation. Jane, I’ll ask you to stay at the precinct. Do whatever research you can on the internet concerning the movie. Tyler, Kat, Kelsey—you’ll examine the tunnels, see what else you can find down there. We’ll have to make sure no one can accidentally wander down to the basement to see what we’re doing.”

  “I guess I’m supposed to be at work tomorrow,” Madison said hesitantly.

  “That’s fine. You go to work. It’s going to be important that you do. Keep your eyes open and don’t ever go anywhere alone. I’ll be out there on the main floor, still talking to people. Even if you need to go to the ladies’ room, let me know.”

  “People are going to ask me questions all day,” Madison said. “How do I put them off?”

  “Just tell them that all you’ve done is answer questions about the studio,” Sean replied.

  “Okay.” Madison realized she was nervous about returning to work. She knew she wouldn’t have made even a halfway decent actress; her feelings were far too apparent in her face and her voice. But she really didn’t have anything to tell anyone, so she supposed she’d do all right.

  They broke up then, Jane cheerfully calling good-night as she and Kat headed out, Kelsey yawning and walking to her bedroom. Tyler offered to escort Madison across the hall and she accepted, noting that Sean and Logan were deep in conversation again, their heads bent low as they spoke.

  In her own room, she lay down on her bed, exhausted, although adrenaline was racing through her system. These had been the longest days of her life.

  And in a way, today had been the best.

  But being in the tunnel a couple of hours ago…crawling through the mannequins…

  She inhaled, cringed, sure she could still smell the blood.

  Searching through canopic jars…

  Those had just been props. But it didn’t matter; she was convinced she could smell blood on herself and would never be able to sleep. She stripped in a sudden frenzy and hurried into the shower. When she emerged, wrapped in a towel, she heard a soft tapping. For a moment, fear washed over her. But she was in a hotel—on a floor with six FBI agents. She walked to the door, and as she did, hope and anticipation replaced the fear. She looked through the peephole. It was Sean.

  When she opened the door, he smiled at her, leaning against the frame for a moment. “I see you’re dressed for the occasion now,” he told her.

  She could have asked him if it was really all right for them to be together; he was obviously dedicated to his work and his team, and she’d never want to jeopardize any of that.

  But she didn’t ask. She stepped back. He walked in. She closed the door.

  “A shower,” he said. “What a great plan. May I? And, of course, you’re welcome to join me. And it’s hours and hours before daylight, so feel free to use the soap any way you’d like.”

  “I’ll do that,” she promised. Once she’d locked the door behind him, they headed into the shower.

  When they finally slept that night, it was deep and wonderful, and yet throughout the night, she knew he was beside her.

  12

  There was no escaping the fact that the day would begin awkwardly. Sean realized that.

  Naturally, everyone at the studio looked at him, Tyler and Kelsey as they walked in. Everyone nodded, not knowing who they were, but obviously assuming they were some kind of law enforcement.

  Eddie Archer was a man who tried to be as honest and sincere with his people as possible. Soon after all his full-time employees had arrived, he called a general meeting in the main work area. He raised a hand to ask for silence as people gathered around him, speaking in hushed whispers. Sean and his colleagues stood by themselves, a few feet away.

  “You all know what happened here,” Eddie said. “Jenny Henderson was killed in the tunnel, and my son, Alistair, was arraigned for her murder. Alistair claims his innocence, and the police and the FBI are investigating. Alistair doesn’t want the studio to go down, and he doesn’t want any of you having to look for jobs elsewhere, and since the producers of The Unholy are retaining their faith in us, we’re going back to work. We’re going to continue doing what we do best—creating special effects. Anyone who’s unhappy about being here is free to leave. But while the investigators continue doing what they do best, let’s try not to get in their way or disrupt our own lives any more than necessary. So, my friends, ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’ll stand by me and Alistair, and that we’ll get back to it.”

  “Eddie!” one of the seamstresses called out. “Will we have police protection through the day? I saw that we still have about four cop cars out there.”

  “The police are guarding us, yes,” Eddie assured her.

  “Eddie, how are you doing?” another asked.

  Eddie smiled. “I get my strength from God, my family and you. Thank you. But if you choose not to be involved, all you have to do is let me know. There isn’t a soul working here for whom I wouldn’t write a glowing letter or recommendation! And I’ll be here,” he said. He indicated Tyler, Kelsey and Kat. “These three agents are from the FBI. Please answer their questions and show them around if you’re asked. They’re here to protect us, and to investigate. Now, I’ll be up in my office if you need me.”

  When he’d finished, Andy Simons took his place. “I could give you a long speech about how much we appreciate your talents and your loyalty. But you all know that. And you know that you’re working with one of the most brilliant minds in the business.” He gestured at Eddie and grinned. “So…work, people, work!” he said, then headed for the hallway.

  Mike had been standing behind him, ever supportive. “Okay, people. We’ve got a few days we have to make up for, if we’re going to stick to our schedule.”

  The employees split up. They’d be whispering am
ong themselves all day, Sean was certain, but they were getting back to work.

  “I want to go down to the tunnel,” he told Tyler. “I have the key, but I’d like to bring in a few cops to watch the elevator doors. We don’t want anyone joining us down there.”

  “I’ll see to it,” Tyler promised. “I’ll meet you back here in ten.” He inclined his head, pointing across the room. “There’s a star on the premises,” he said.

  Sean looked up and saw that the actor, Oliver Marshall, had appeared. People hailed him and he seemed pleased by their friendliness, responding with waves and handshakes as he walked through the work areas to reach Madison’s station. She rose as he approached. She’d said they got along well, but Sean studied the man—it was the nature of the game. You had to be suspicious of everyone. And yet he felt his heart beating a little faster. Oliver Marshall seemed to know Madison well…and to like her. He greeted her with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug. She offered him her beautiful smile in return and hugged him back. He could see that she was speaking to him, gesturing at the costume pieces on the table and something she was working on that had to do with foam and rubber and fabric. He realized they were referring to the knee pads Oliver needed for his costume to add a little protection during some of his stunts. Apparently he had a stunt double but was doing the less dangerous scenes himself. Madison was gathering up folds of material to hand him so he could be properly fitted in the costume with the knee pads inserted.

  She seemed happy to be working again, seemed to enjoy her job.

  “Logan will be up here,” Tyler reminded him. “Madison will be safe.”

  Sean nodded. It was time for them to make their way down to the tunnel, search all the corridors, and when they’d done that, he was going out to the cemetery to look for another entrance.

  He kept his eye on Madison as her assistant, Alfie Longdale, a tall, platinum-blond man in his early twenties, approached her and Oliver Marshall. More greetings took place. Then Alfie picked up a measuring tape and some pins and they moved toward the curtained area that was the studio’s fitting room.