While everyone hugged—and before Bridget arrived at that half of the duplex—Cara Barton made an appearance. She was delighted she’d managed to get Marnie so much help.
She was thrilled that an entire room of people could see her. She was so excited and dramatic she didn’t really last—or remain visible—long.
When Cara disappeared, Marnie said drily, “I’m haunted by a bit of a diva.”
Bryan sniffed, and she realized she did want to meet more dead people—she wanted to meet his parents.
Madison Darvil laughed softly. “Tell me about it.”
Sean spoke up. “Madison and Bogie were just like this.” He lifted his hand, showing his entwined fingers.
“Bogie? You mean Humphrey Bogart?” Marnie asked.
“In the almost flesh,” Sean said sincerely, and everyone smiled.
When Bridget knocked on the door, they all went out to the cars and made their way to the conference center. Even the outside was decorated with huge and fantastic creatures—giant tyrannosaurs formed an archway over the main entry doors.
Bryan had spoken with the conference managers, and he led the way through side doors. Marnie greeted the conference workers who helped them, and autographed a few of the show programs as a thank-you, before their assigned assistant walked her through some of the exhibits to the place where the Dark Harbor cast would meet and greet and sign.
They had a really nice place at the front of the convention center. It was so sad, she thought, that they had risen to such prominence only after Cara had been killed.
Over the past weeks, Cara’s face had graced dozens of magazine covers and hundreds of newspapers and possibly thousands of websites.
A beautiful picture of Cara with Jeremy Highsmith—as Mr. and Mrs. Zeta—covered the space behind them. The Dark Harbor cast was on a podium, and they had three convention hall employees assigned to watch over them and handle crowd control.
“Cara would be happy with this setup,” Marnie murmured to Bryan.
“Cara will probably be here,” Bryan said. He was watching Sean and Madison.
The two were speaking softly together. Madison was lovely, with large blue eyes and long silky hair; Sean was a fitting companion, tall, broad shouldered but lean, with a striking face. Of course, they would both know a lot of people at the show.
And more, they would know a number of the actors at the show who specialized in creature character work.
They could be on the watch for someone—likely not Blood-bone today, but another persona—who might be carrying a weapon and have bloodshed and murder on the mind.
“You’re the second one from Dark Harbor to arrive,” Shandra, their first hostess-crowd-control-helper, told them, walking them all from the special guest entry to the booth where they would sit.
Roberta Alan was straightening pictures on the table. She saw them arrive and gave them a beaming smile.
“Marnie! Thank goodness you’re here.” She hugged Marnie as if it had been years since they had seen one another and not a day. She stepped back and grinned at the others and then frowned slightly as she noticed Sean and Madison.
Looking at Madison, she said, “I know you. Why do I know you?”
Madison grinned. “Werewolves. I forget what season it was. I worked with you on the werewolf story line. My name is—”
“Madison! Madison Darvil!” Roberta said.
Well, she hadn’t seen Madison for years, so maybe it was natural that she hugged her to pieces. Then, she met Sean and learned that he, too, had worked with Eddie Archer at one time.
“But you’re FBI now?”
“Stranger things will happen,” Sean assured her.
“Ah, yes... Well, I suppose so.” She grew somber and said in a husky whisper, “Nothing was stranger—ever—than watching Cara Barton be murdered. Nothing. So horrible.” She shuddered.
“And yet...it was just a little over two weeks ago,” Sean said politely, smiling.
It was impossible to tell if there was a jab in his words or not.
“I have to survive,” Roberta said. She put an arm around Marnie. “And thanks to friends, I will.”
“And our other friends, I hope,” Marnie murmured. Jeremy and Grayson had yet to arrive.
“Well, I have some other, er, kinds of friends for you,” Madison said, grinning. “Friends of friends. From the team at Archer, we’re providing a bit of decoration.”
As she spoke, convention workers pushed carts up to the booth.
Sean asked Jackson and Bryan for help.
The three of them and the convention workers pulled off the covering sheets.
Madison had managed to get them the creature fabrications and costumes that had been used in the werewolf story line.
The werewolves were magnificent. Just a little taller and bigger than a normal man, intricately created with eyes that looked alive, teeth that gleamed and forms that truly seemed ready to pounce and bounce.
They were all admiring the werewolves, Madison, Roberta and Marnie laughing and talking about the time of their use—“Cara used to call them Tom and Dick!” Marnie told them—when Grayson Adair arrived, laughing delightedly as he remembered them, as well.
“I think I finally got to beat Tom over there to pieces!” he said.
Roberta added, “Marnie used her mind play on Dick, and he turned into a Pekingese or something.”
“Yorkie, it was,” Grayson said, grinning at Marnie.
“Yep, a Yorkie,” she agreed.
“Doors are opening to the day crowd. You may be barraged, and I’ll do my best to help,” Shandra told them. She was a tall girl, probably about eighteen, thrilled to be with them—and very, very perky.
Marnie tried to smile at her.
“Jeremy isn’t here yet. Has anybody talked to him?” Marnie asked.
“He isn’t answering his cell,” Roberta said.
Marnie looked at Bryan. He walked over and slipped an arm around her. She knew he was waiting for the results of the tests on her teacup.
She couldn’t believe David Neal had tried to poison her, but Bryan was protective.
It wasn’t a bad thing.
“I’ll find out about Jeremy,” he promised her. Then he added, “Wow!”
The doors had opened. People were flooding in.
Some wore casual dress; many were in T-shirts that advertised their favorite shows, movies or characters; lots were in costumes, from cosplay to Victorian, from the beautiful and sublime to the absolutely horrific.
It seemed that most were heading to the Dark Harbor booth.
That was understandable. There were some pictures left that already had Cara Barton’s signature on them.
They could get big bucks on the internet.
Marnie smiled.
It was time to smile. And thank people, sincerely, for their support.
* * *
Bryan stood just behind Marnie at the booth, watching.
If anyone came near her, he was ready.
Bridget and Angela were walking around the show floor; he didn’t believe Bridget was a target. He didn’t want her to be collateral damage. She would be good at noting any abnormalities at the show—if anything could be considered an abnormality.
Jackson, Sean and Madison were on the floor near the booth. Many old colleagues were greeting Madison, complimenting her, asking where she’d been.
She’d been aware of the dead for a long while. Bogie had actually been “her” ghost—he had spent his time haunting her, long before she had met and married Sean.
She was good at what she did and excellent at deflecting questions, simply saying she’d found theater work she just loved out East.
Bryan knew Marnie was concerned about Jeremy, and so he called Detective Vining.
Vining was at the s
how himself, watching the entrance. But he called the officer on duty who was watching over Jeremy. Then he called Bryan back.
“He hasn’t left his house yet,” Vining told him. “The officer watching him has been on duty since 6:00 a.m., and Jeremy hasn’t come out.”
“He’s not answering his cell phone,” Bryan said.
“Maybe he’s sleeping. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk.”
“He’s supposed to be at Horror-palooza. He wouldn’t just not show up, not without calling to say he was ill or something had come up.” Bryan was speaking softly. In front of him, at the table, Marnie, Roberta and Grayson were signing pictures and speaking reverently about Cara Barton.
Bryan looked around for her ghost.
He didn’t see her.
He imagined she’d show up sooner or later.
This would just be too good for her to miss.
“McFadden, this is a touchy situation.”
“Ask the officer to knock at his door, to try to get him to open up.”
“All right. I’ll get back to you,” Vining promised.
Bryan kept looking over the floor.
There was a sudden surge of humanity in another direction, just across the hall.
It was Malcolm Dangerfield. The man, surrounded by “his people” and what looked like an army of media, was taking up his position at his own booth. It was a little surprising that he was there, being so very popular at the moment, but he had a science fiction movie coming out soon and must have been convinced it was worth his time.
Bryan’s phone rang; Detective Vining was calling back. “Still waiting on the officer at Highsmith’s. But I do have something interesting for you. Lab results back on the remnants of tea you asked Sophie to have analyzed.”
“If there was any kind of poison,” Bryan said, his muscles tightening, “you can find David Neal and arrest him immediately.”
“There wasn’t poison,” Vining said.
“Ah,” Bryan said, cursing himself. Where the hell were his instincts?
“But there was something,” Vining said. “Traces of gamma hydroxybutyric acid, a date-rape drug. Looks like David Neal was trying to get a lot closer to Marnie than she may have expected. He seemed to want more than a job.”
“You are going to arrest him then, right?”
“Yes. He could be facing a felony charge for lacing her tea—and we’ll have to prove it somehow, which we may not be able to do, but...at the very least, while he may not be a cold-blooded murderer, he is one hell of a slimy bastard.”
“You’ll get him down to the station?”
“I’ve got Sophie on it. As soon as she can find him, she’ll bring him in.”
“Thanks. Let me know.”
“You bet. The minute we have him.”
He rang off. Once Malcolm Dangerfield had come into the room, the line at Marnie’s booth had died down a bit. She looked up at him.
He set his hands protectively on her shoulders.
Marnie frowned.
“Tell you later,” he said.
Vince Carlton walked up to their table. “Good to see you all—Wow! The enthusiasm over Dark Harbor.”
“There was lots of it—until Malcolm Dangerfield walked in,” Roberta said.
“See? There you go. If I put Malcolm Dangerfield together with Dark Harbor? Wow. We can just wait and see. But where’s Jeremy Highsmith? Jeremy told me he actually loves Horror-palooza. I can’t begin to imagine he would blow it all off!”
“I can’t either,” Marnie said, looking up at Bryan.
She was getting worried. He was worried, too. Now about two things. He still needed to hear that Detective Manning had gotten her hands on David Neal.
But did being a disgusting piece of slime make David a murderer?
They needed to prove what he had done. Had he wanted to lure Marnie into an assault, or even worse? Either option was unthinkable.
Bridget and Angela returned to the booth then.
Marnie’s cousin was excited. “There’s a fantastic Horror-palooza Cave back there,” she said. “So cool—it has Murderers’ Row, with Jack the Ripper, H. H. Holmes and more, all on a foggy, creepy Victorian street. And then it turns into a monster’s mansion, and all the famous ones are there—Frankenstein’s monster, Dracula, the Wolfman, a few different mummies...and the swamp creature. I swear, it gave flight to the imagination!”
Bryan saw Marnie try to smile.
“Jeremy Highsmith is still not here?” Angela asked.
“Call him again?” Bryan said to Marnie.
She did. No answer. She shook her head, looking at him worriedly.
Bryan called Grant Vining back. “Detective?”
“Our officer knocked at the door, trying to get Jeremy Highsmith to answer. Nothing. We’ll break in. We shouldn’t legally. But I suppose we have just cause for emergency entry.”
Bryan looked across the room at Jackson, certain he would have his friend’s support. “The federal government will support that decision,” he said.
“I’ll call you right back.”
He hung up again. There was a roar of applause in the convention hall, and suddenly people were surging toward the Dark Harbor booth again.
The Krewe unit drew in close. Bryan was behind Marnie, while Angela and Jackson flanked the table, and Sean was just to the side of Angela, watching, with Madison just to his left, next to one of the Archer studio’s werewolves.
“Malcolm and Marnie!” someone cried out. “You’re going to do Dark Harbor together?”
“Pictures together? Hey, can’t you guys let us get some pictures together?” someone shouted, not at the front of the line, but near.
Vince Carlton apologized quickly and half-heartedly to Marnie, “I had a press conference a few minutes ago. I announced the possibility of a revamp, with Malcolm and Marnie playing together. News must be spreading. You know how fans can get!”
Bryan did.
Fans could get dangerous.
“I’m here with this cast today,” Marnie said.
“But maybe—just maybe—you could go over and take a few pictures with Malcolm?” Carlton asked her. He frowned. “You don’t...dislike Malcolm or anything, do you?” he asked softly.
“No, of course not, Malcolm is fine,” she said.
“Marnie, damn it, go,” Roberta whispered. “If it were me, I’d be over there in his arms already. Then again, I’m not sleeping with—”
“I’m on my way—It’s okay, right?” Marnie interrupted, looking at Bryan.
“Sure. I’ll walk you over,” Bryan said.
“I’ll flank on the right,” Sean Cameron said.
Bryan nodded. With Marnie between the two of them, they made their way across the floor.
Things that would normally seem amazing bothered Bryan then. He was hypersensitive to every mannequin and mask in the place, even those he’d already walked by.
Malcolm, with members of his security team, met them in the middle. “Just a few pics! Just a few pics—in case!” Malcolm told the crowd, delighting them.
Marnie smiled.
She stepped forward, letting him slide an arm around her.
Flashes went off. People crowded, holding up their cameras and smartphones.
Bryan was about to step forward, not because he felt any jealousy, which somewhat surprised him, but because he was being made just a little bit too nervous by the amount of things around them that just might be people in costume and not mannequins at all.
Marnie put a stop to it all herself.
“Thank you. Thank you all so much,” she said, smiling and looking all around her. “I have to head back to the ‘family.’ What the future will hold... Well, we’ll all see, right?”
A line had formed at the table again.
Vince
Carlton was still there, beaming. Marnie took her chair.
“Scarlet, Scarlet, Scarlet!” came a yell from the crowd.
She smiled and waved, but as she took her seat between Roberta and Grayson, she asked, “No Jeremy yet? I’m getting really worried.”
As if she’d been heard, the question was suddenly voiced loudly from the crowd.
“So where’s Jeremy Highsmith?” someone called.
Bryan’s phone rang. It was Vining.
“You found him? You found Jeremy Highsmith?”
“Yeah. We did. We found him.”
“Thank God. And?”
Vining was silent for a minute.
Then he spoke, and he sounded old and weary, almost as if his voice was composed of nothing but dry and brittle leaves, shaking in the wind.
“He’s dead. Jeremy Highsmith is dead.”
* * *
He knew—the Mr. Macho-Man PI son-of-the-famous now knew.
Yes, Jeremy Highsmith was dead.
Delicious to watch. And now, of course, he had to spread the news.
Marnie! Oh, poor Marnie. The look on her face. She was just devastated. And the cops! Confusion!
Oh, so delicious.
And so sad. Think of it. Mom and Dad, both gone from Dark Harbor.
Don’t laugh out loud. Don’t laugh out loud...
And watch the smile!
14
Jeremy Highsmith was dead.
Unbelievable and unacceptable. Marnie had just sat next to him at lunch yesterday.
It was understandable the Dark Harbor table was empty; the surviving members of the main cast of the show had left.
They were devastated.
Marnie felt as if she were actually in the show, as if what was happening just couldn’t possibly be real.
As soon as the news had come in, all the members of law enforcement had gathered by the booth—except for Sophie Manning. Sophie was looking for David Neal, since he had been followed to the convention center by a diligent police officer.
He was there, somewhere.
And he was wanted for questioning.
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