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

by Heather Graham

  A rustle in the trees startled her and she turned quickly. She wasn’t afraid of the living, not while she was armed and alert. Her service Glock was in the holster beneath her jacket, and she could draw it in a second.

  However, she couldn’t see anyone. She didn’t really want to announce herself, since she was wandering around private property, uninvited and unaccompanied.

  She was definitely intrigued by the maze, but with darkness descending, taking a stroll there wouldn’t be wise.

  Hearing a car door, she walked around to the front. Will had arrived, and she hurried forward to meet him.

  “Hey!” he said, greeting her with a hug. There was tension in his muscles; she lowered her head, smiling, because she knew he worried about her when they were apart. It was natural. She did the same thing.

  Kat liked the way he treated her, concerned but with respect, and always deferring to her now when he knew that her knowledge of a particular subject was greater than his.

  “I’m okay,” she assured him.

  “And Amanda?”

  “We have to wait for the tox reports.”

  He nodded.

  “There’s a maze in back,” she told him. “Very cute. High bushes, Egyptian sculptures.”

  “You went out in the back alone?”

  “I just took a look. It’s private property and I’m well aware that we need imminent danger or a search warrant to prowl.”

  He arched a brow, offering her a half smile. “You were prowling around.”

  “But not a lot. I was admiring the landscaping.”

  “That wouldn’t stand up in court. Anyway, shall we?”

  Side by side, they climbed the steps and Will rang the bell. Nothing happened. They knew there were people inside, so he banged on the door. When nothing happened then, either, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

  They entered the grand old mansion off Michigan Avenue.

  The hallway itself was empty. Will shrugged and they moved toward the parlor. A few members, two men and a woman, were sitting there, deep in discussion. They were all clad in loose white robes, as if they were acolytes getting ready for a religious ceremony.

  The discussion stopped as soon as they noticed Kat and Will.

  The woman rose. “May I help you?” she asked coolly.

  Kat introduced herself and Will by their names only—not mentioning the FBI. “We were hoping we might see Dirk. Is he here?”

  The woman nodded. She glanced at the men and forced a smile to her lips. “I’m Samantha Willard, and these are Bill Bartholomew and David Gleeson. Dirk is up in the study. Are you prospective members?” she asked.

  “We’re friends of Dirk’s,” Kat said.

  “I’ll bring you upstairs.” Samantha waved at the two men. “Be right back!”

  As they headed for the stairs, Will exchanged a quizzical look with Kat. There had to be a number of people in the mansion at the moment; they could hear voices coming from the kitchen and dining areas, as well as the parlor.

  At the upstairs landing, Samantha led them to the first door on the left. She tapped on it lightly, and Dirk Manning called, “Come in.”

  He was sitting by the fireplace, also clad in one of the white robes, reading from a journal. He looked sad and drawn, but if he was surprised or dismayed to see them, he didn’t reveal it. He rose, smiling. “Welcome. Welcome back. Sorrowful times, I’m afraid, but of course that’s why you’re here. Can you tell me what happened? Amanda Channel killed herself and a guard shot himself? Is that true?”

  “I don’t believe any of it, not for a minute, and that’s not what I said at the press conference,” Will told him.

  Dirk Manning studied him for a minute and then smiled. “No, that’s not what you said. Some of the stations actually showed you talking. Most of them only used a few words of what you said and added their own commentary. So…someone is killing off anyone connected to Amun Mopat’s treasure and the salvage of the Jerry McGuen?”

  “Frankly, it’s a mess, Mr. Manning,” Kat said. “You threw a party to get people interested. Brady Laurie was the most excited because he believed he had the answer—which he did. But Brady’s dead, and so is Amanda.”

  “What did she die of?” Manning asked her.

  “We think it was some type of poison,” Kat said, “but we don’t know what. There was nothing obvious, but I’m positive that with the tests we’ve ordered, we’ll find out.”

  “Brady Laurie was drowned, Austin Miller was sent into heart failure, a guard’s been shot. And now Amanda is dead, apparently by poisoning,” Will said.

  “Maybe there is a curse.” Manning sank back into his chair before the fire. “Maybe there really is a curse.”

  “And maybe the curse is greed,” Will muttered.

  Manning shook his head. “What kind of greed would cause someone to kill like that? Maybe, when it was just Brady, it could have been greed. Someone who wanted to get the treasures for him- or herself. But the location of the ship is now well-known. However, Amanda died at the Preservation Center.”

  “That’s why we need your help.” Will sat in one of the chairs by the fire, facing the old man. “For starters,” he said, “what’s going on here tonight?”

  Manning raised his hand absently. “A farewell to our dear friend Austin Miller. A ceremony to say goodbye. The morgue has told us that they don’t know when they’ll release his body. These people, all of us, loved him. We will give him an Egyptian ceremony that is intended for the comfort of those left behind. We offer up food and gifts at the altar in the center of the maze. Nine of us will speak, each to a certain god of the ancient world, asking for Austin’s speedy flight to the heavens above. It’s a memorial,” he said simply.

  “That’s fine, Mr. Manning. That’s fine. Will other people, nonmembers, be here tonight?”

  Manning nodded. “Everyone who was on our invitation list the night we had the party—the night Brady Laurie told us he thought he’d found the location of the Jerry McGuen.”

  Will looked over at Kat. “May we attend, Mr. Manning?”

  Manning was silent for a moment. “You want to attend our ceremony?” he asked, astonished. “You didn’t know Austin.”

  “We didn’t know him,” Kat said, deciding she shouldn’t tell Manning that, in a way, she had met Austin, just not when he was alive. “But we want justice for him.”

  “How involved do you want to be?” he asked.

  “As involved as you’ll let us be,” Will replied.

  Manning shook his head again, a look of confusion in his eyes. “I…I can’t believe we might have brought this about, that I might be responsible for the death of my best friend. For all these deaths… Is it possible?”

  “No, it’s not,” Kat said firmly. “You are not responsible for the depravity of another person, Mr. Manning, not at all. But we’re pretty certain that someone who’s been here is responsible for these deaths.”

  Manning straightened his shoulders. “You seem to think I’m acquainted with a killer. But I will not help one! Yes, you must stay and be involved, if you believe I can assist you any way—or if you think you might get a shred of information from being here. Absolutely!” He stood. “Come along,” he commanded. “It’s time to prepare.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the Egyptian Sand Diggers’ clubhouse mansion was filling up.

  Will was impressed by the number of Egyptologists, scholars and old friends who arrived for the special tribute to Austin Miller.

  He was equally impressed that he and Kat were dressed and ready for the evening. They, too, were clad in long white robes; they had brass torches to resemble the wooden ones that would have been used during the time of the New Kingdom.

  Kat was to read a passage as Mut, or Maut. The Egyptian word for mother had come from her name, and she was the daughter of the sun god, Ra—the all-seeing, vengeful eye of Ra. Kat had been given the Mut headdress, which was that of a vulture, one of the forms in whi
ch Mut could sometimes be seen.

  “Cool, huh?” she whispered to Will, holding a glass of wine as they stood casually in the dining area, meeting others as they came in.

  “I think Mut is also sometimes depicted as a cow,” he told her, grinning.

  She frowned. “At least I’m not reading as a schizophrenic god,” she retorted.

  He was reading a passage for Aker, an ancient earth god honored in the New Kingdom and often depicted as two lions facing away from each other. Aker was the god of the horizon—day to night, and night to day.

  Kat’s phone rang. She glanced at Will, fumbled through the robe to find the phone in her pocket and started to answer it.

  Samantha walked by, frowning. “No cell phones once the ceremony starts!” she chastised.

  “Of course,” Kat murmured.

  She turned away from the crowd and spoke so softly that not even Will could hear. When she turned back, she touched his cheek, as if in a gesture of affection. Of course, he hoped it was real, but she was gesturing for him to bend down.

  “Saxitoxin,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Saxitoxin,” she said a little louder. “It’s a toxin from shellfish. Amanda must have had an allergy—and someone must have known it.”

  “That’s what killed her?” he asked. “But…how did she get in the sarcophagus with Amun Mopat?”

  She shook her head. He looked away, and took a sip from his glass of “ceremonial” wine. He set the wineglass down and, to Kat’s surprise, took hers, as well.

  He raised a brow and saw the comprehension in her eyes.

  Nothing to eat or drink here!

  Hearing someone greet a new visitor, Will stepped into the parlor and saw Andy Simonton. He was alone, but he seemed to know most of the people there.

  Samantha walked toward him. Her stride had changed; it was suddenly sultry, her hips swaying beneath the robe. “Andy!”

  “Sam.”

  “I’m so, so glad you could make it,” she gushed.

  Andy shrugged. “Hey, Austin was a good guy. If this is how he’d want us to say goodbye, so be it.” He sighed. “That awful business at the center today—boy, I’m glad I stayed away from that ship. It sure looks like it’s cursed!”

  “The cops claim someone else had to have been in there—at least that’s what I saw on the news,” Sam said. “Personally? I think Amanda was a flake. She was in love with that mummy. She probably offed the guard herself, then climbed into the sarcophagus.”

  Andy Simonton shook his head. “I’m just glad I had nothing to do with that damn ship. It’s scary—Brady Laurie, Austin…and now Amanda and a guard?”

  “The guard isn’t dead,” Samantha said.

  “Maybe the poor guy will survive to tell the tale.” Simonton looked past Samantha and saw Dirk Manning. “Dirk!” he called, walking past Samantha. He set a hand on Manning’s shoulder. “Hey, I’m so sorry. I know what good friends you and Austin were.”

  “Thank you, Andy, thank you. Samantha, I do believe just about everyone’s present, is that correct?” Dirk asked.

  “We’re waiting on just one more—Landry. He’s on his way with a date or a friend or something,” Samantha said.

  As she spoke, the door opened in the hallway; Stewart Landry was there. He was accompanied by his attractive receptionist, the blonde Sherry Bertelli. She smiled vaguely when Dirk Manning came forward to greet them. “Thank you, thank you for coming. It would have meant a lot to Austin.”

  “We were still reeling from the news of his death when we heard about Amanda,” Landry said.

  “She really wasn’t very nice,” Sherry noted.

  Manning cleared his throat. “Yes, well, it’s very sad, all the same.”

  Andy Simonton had been standing still, watching Landry and Sherry. Landry noticed Simonton and seemed slightly surprised. “Simonton, how are you?” He strode forward, offering his hand.

  Simonton took it. They behaved in a cordial manner, but both men seemed tense. “Hello, um, Ms. Bertelli,” Simonton said.

  “Sherry. Yes, hello, Mr. Simonton.”

  “Andy, please,” he told her.

  “Let’s get started, shall we?” Manning said. “We have our nine to read in honor of our friend Austin Miller. We shall begin. If everyone will gather in the yard?”

  As he spoke, Simonton caught sight of Will and Kat. He seemed curious, but not dismayed. “Hello.” He walked over, gesturing at their robes. “I wouldn’t have thought you were members or associates of the Sand Diggers.”

  “We’re here because of Dirk,” Kat said. “He was with us when we found Austin Miller, so…I guess we have something of a bond.”

  “I figured you’d be busy at the Preservation Center,” Simonton said. “That’s all very tragic, but…” He grimaced. “Both Brady and Amanda were obsessed. I feel bad for poor Jon Hunt, though. He must be suffering big-time. I mean, they have a guard, a receptionist…interns, but those three were the ones who really held the fort down, you know?”

  “Yes, Jon isn’t coping too well.”

  “Poor boy!” Simonton shook his head. “Well, I guess we should get into the yard.”

  He joined the stream heading out. Will held his reading in one hand and took Kat’s hand with the other. He almost walked into Sherry Bertelli. She looked up at him and her eyes widened.

  “I know you!” she said.

  “Yes, hello, Ms. Bertelli.”

  “You’re the agent. Oh!” She’d noticed Kat beside him. “And you’re the other agent.”

  “Tonight,” Kat told her, “we’re just mourners.”

  “Did you know Mr. Miller?” she asked.

  “Only in death.” Kat smiled. “But he was a lovely man.”

  Sherry seemed perplexed; at her side, Landry paused, frowning as he saw Will and Kat.

  “Good God! Do you people hold nothing sacred?” he demanded.

  “Actually, we hold a man’s life sacred above all else,” Will said pleasantly.

  “Is there a problem?” Manning called from the back door.

  “We’re on our way, Dirk, on our way!” Landry called, frowning again as he looked at Will.

  They continued out.

  In a long trail, they began the procession through the winding maze. Will knew that, alone, he’d find it difficult to orient himself. But Dirk Manning, at the head of the line, was sure of every step.

  “I speak for Ra!” he intoned, waving an incense burner in front of him as he walked. “Although our brother Austin lived in a different time and place, we pray that in his new life he may forever know the warmth and nurturing power of the sun.”

  Samantha had the next reading. “I speak for Isis,” she said. “Isis, who represents healing of all that hurts and bears down upon a laden soul. Austin, may you be relieved of the pain that is the lot of man. May you feel the grace of freedom, the health of the soul, in your new life.”

  By the time Samantha finished speaking, they’d come to the center of the maze. There was an altar guarded by two stone lions; in the center was a large obelisk.

  Will was touched to see that many of the mourners had brought flowers, which they laid on the altar.

  Other members of the group read as their assigned gods or goddesses. The first of the two men he’d met in the parlor, Bill Bartholomew, read thoughts as Khepra, god of creation and change, and talked about the new life. David Gleeson spoke words of wisdom from Seker, god of light, and the god who protected souls as they passed from this world to the next. It was while Gleeson was speaking that Will saw Kat staring hard at the altar. He focused in the same direction. After a moment, he could see the vague image of an elderly man, and then, bit by bit, Austin Miller, became more visible to him.

  He stood next to Dirk Manning, his hand on his old friend’s shoulder. If Dirk felt his hand in any way, he didn’t show it.

  Next it was Kat’s turn to speak. She said the words written for her as Mut, telling the soul of Austin Miller t
hat a mother’s love would guide him. She looked straight into his eyes as she spoke. The spirit of Austin Miller looked back at her, smiling, his eyes a little moist.

  Will heard Austin so clearly when he said, “Thank you, my dear,” that he was certain others must have heard him, too. But they hadn’t. Other speakers, including Will, read their speeches and the service continued.

  “Tell my friend, please, that my old meerschaum pipe he so admired is in the pocket of the smoking jacket I left in the closet here. I want him to have it. I want him to have the pipe and to take care of himself, and I don’t want him at my house or at this house alone. Tell him I fear he is in danger. There is a curse. I saw the mummy.”

  Will glanced around, wondering if anyone else could possibly see and hear Austin Miller. He seemed so clear and strong and loud. But they were all paying attention to the next speaker.

  “I will,” Kat said softly.

  Austin Miller was still next to Dirk Manning when he brought the ceremony to a close. “Ancient Egypt is my passion,” Dirk told the crowd solemnly. “Christianity is my religion, but mine is a God of love and kindness, and He understands what we did here tonight. Some scholars now consider the polytheistic beliefs of the old Egyptians as the practice of seeing one god in many ways. And as we all know, methods of worship changed over the fifty centuries that passed within the many kingdoms and periods of the people we study. Thank you all for being here. Thank you for this send-off to our dear friend. Mortal remains, we know, mean nothing. Austin’s soul is with us tonight.”

  Will was startled when Kat walked forward, tiny but so regal, to speak to Dirk Manning across the altar. “Dirk, Austin really is with us tonight. He is truly appreciative of all that you did. He wants you to know that his meerschaum pipe is in his smoking jacket, in the pocket.” She stopped speaking and turned around, looking at the gathered guests. “He says there is no curse. He reminds you that you love Egyptology, but you’re not superstitious fools.”

  Will watched her with curiosity, crossing his arms over his chest.