The Forbidden

by Heather Graham

  She was distressed. “I’m afraid that we’re not taking reservations right now—”

  Fin produced his badge. “Where are they?”

  The girl pointed.

  They burst through the doors and headed for a room with one of the small stages. Samara was standing at the foot of the apron; Ryder was next to her.

  “What’s going on?” Fin demanded.

  Samara pointed.

  There was a divan on the stage, part of a scene, he assumed. And there was a woman on the divan...except that it wasn’t a woman.

  It was a doll or an effigy.

  It looked exactly like Samara Stella...except that there was a knife through the doll’s heart.

  Samara Stella was there, as well, looking just like the girl next door in her ponytail, jeans and sweatshirt. She was pale as ash, and when she saw Avalon, she rushed forward, needing to hug her, and to be hugged in turn.

  Ryder strode over. “Fin! I’ve been trying to tell Miss Stella that this isn’t necessarily the Christy Island killer after her, but she ran out into the street screaming and she’s... Well, I have a team coming, but we’re back to where we were on Christy Island. There are dozens of people through here every single day. Prints are going to mean very little. I’ve been trying to calm her down.” Ryder looked at him quizzically for a minute. “She said that she knew you. I guess I hadn’t imagined...”

  Ryder let his voice trail. He hadn’t meant to be insulting to either him or Samara Stella, Fin mused. But the NOPD detective was thinking that Fin must have enjoyed a performance—perhaps even been part of one, getting a good whipping or something.

  “Avalon is working on a website for Miss Stella,” Fin said, shaking his head. “Ryder, you know that. That’s how she found the site with the cherry bomb, the site that Jodi is still trying to trace.”

  Ryder looked at Avalon.

  “Oh, yeah, I forgot. I see,” he said.

  Fin had no idea what Ryder saw, but Avalon didn’t seem to care. She was trying to reassure Samara.

  “He was watching me! Whoever did this was watching me—he wants it to be me. He wants me to be dead, just like this, on the settee!” she said.

  “Samara,” Fin said, extricating the woman from her fierce hold on Avalon. “Samara, please, we’ll get people in, they’ll figure out how this was done when you have a receptionist on duty, what back entrance might have been used...but this isn’t that same. This is probably a sick bastard who just doesn’t like what you do.” He drew in a deep breath. “Samara, if the killer had been after you, he wouldn’t have displayed a doll.” He hesitated. “You would be dead. You would be the doll. This is so wrong and it’s harassment, but I believe that it is harassment.”

  “But someone was watching. I know that someone was watching. In the restaurant, or from the street...someone was watching!”

  “They were watching you?” Fin asked.

  She frowned. “Yes. No. Avalon was there, too. I don’t know. I felt it. There was someone there, and they were watching, and it was creepy, and it was... I’m so scared!”

  Visitors had been shown out; Samara’s employees and family from the kitchen and the other rooms had gathered in the room with its small stage and audience section.

  “Samara,” he said, “you’re going to be okay. Whoever did this is gone. I’m here, Ryder is here, and soon, we’ll have the place crawling with cops.”

  She tried to nod.

  “I’m so scared. I’m never scared. But I’m so scared,” she said.

  “Hey. NOPD is on this,” Ryder assured her, glancing at Fin. “This is a police matter, but Miss Stella was going on about you and...”

  “It’s all right.”

  “My people are good at what they do,” Ryder reminded him.

  “I know.”

  “I’m still scared!” Samara said.

  The brunette receptionist came up to her. “Not to worry, Samara. You’re not going home. You’re going to come and stay with Benny and me.” The brunette looked at Fin. “Benny is a cop.”

  “Benjamin Nolan?” Ryder asked the brunette.

  She nodded.

  “A good man,” Ryder assured Fin.

  “Samara, you’ll go home with this young lady and not be alone. But now, we need to know more about the alley behind this place and who was here while you were taking time off across the street,” Fin said.

  “Close the place for the night,” Ryder told the receptionist. “I’ll get an officer to see you and Miss Stella to your place. Miss Stella, we’ll get a team out here. You’re going to be all right.”

  “You don’t think that—that anyone is after me?” Samara asked. “You think it’s just—”

  “I think it’s a prank created by a holy roller who doesn’t like your form of entertainment,” Ryder said. “But you don’t need to worry—we’ll investigate.”

  Fin looked at Avalon, who was studying the doll that had been set on the stage.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “It’s obviously supposed to be Samara, but I’ve seen a doll like that before,” she said.

  “Where? When?” Fin asked her.

  “About six years ago. I had a walk-on for it and managed a hell of a good scream. The dolls were used in a Halloween short—it was good. It went out to one of the major cable stations. It was used as a fifteen-minute filler. Say a movie they wanted to show ran an hour and forty minutes, or somewhere in that time frame. A filler like that allows a channel to keep to a two-hour format on it without putting in too many commercials or falling off a basic time schedule.”

  “You were in it? And you know the dolls?”

  She nodded. “That was it—the name of the play. The Doll. The doll came to life and murdered people, but then the man who had created her realized that she had become more human than a doll...and he stabbed her and killed her, but then took the blame for the murders.” She looked at him and hesitated several seconds, wincing. “Boris directed it.”

  “And you were an actor in it.”

  “I was in it, yes. And the doll...well, they start out plain. Fabricators, prop people and makeup artists can work on them. They’re very basic, readily available at a number of theatrical and film-supply houses,” Avalon said.

  “Who else was involved with this little film?”

  “Not Brad—he started working with us in Texas. We were just out of school—Boris had lectured that year and Leo had also been a visiting guest artist teaching mime. Lauren did makeup and Terry worked as a set designer.”

  “Terry. So, he would have purchased the doll and created his own image upon the basic form?”

  Avalon nodded miserably.

  “Let me get this straight—I’m assuming that Kevin was in it?”

  “Yes. Neither of us starred in it—I was the neighbor who discovered what was going on and Kevin was a victim of the doll. And Leo played a small part. But I’m telling you that the dolls can easily be bought—it’s the work done to them that makes them funny, terrifying...or whatever. But seriously, you were at the house with all of us—you followed us here. You know that no one in my group did this.”

  “I do know that,” he said.

  “Then why are you—?”

  “I’m not accusing your friends.”

  “It sounds—”

  “I’m going to ask them to help me.”

  He swung around. Other officers were coming in; Ryder motioned to him that he had someone to bring Samara to the home of the receptionist so that Benny, the cop, could look after them both.

  When they were gone, Ryder walked over to him.

  “What do you think?” Ryder asked.

  “I don’t know,” Fin said.

  “A prank? By a self-righteous individual. You know, the kind who thinks it would be okay to kill everyone who isn’t li
ke them, let God sort them out.”

  “I think so. But it’s strange and creepy.”

  “It wasn’t the killer,” Avalon said. “Fin said it—the killer wouldn’t have made a doll up to look like Samara. The killer would have made Samara look like a doll.”

  “We’re on this,” Ryder told Fin. “I had dinner earlier—go back. Enjoy your social time with your nice long list of possible suspects.”

  “It’s not a long list,” Avalon corrected. “The Christy family.”

  Ryder kept his mouth shut and just nodded grimly. “Well, go eat. And keep in touch tomorrow. I imagine you’ll hear back from Mississippi. Even if just to tell you they found nothing.”

  “Encouraging,” Fin said dryly.

  “The truth of it. Lots of hours and even more frustration,” Ryder said. He looked at Avalon. “Maybe you should start looking around on the web again.”

  “I will,” Avalon said.

  “Ryder, she’s in this deep enough—”

  “Yeah? And she’s going to Terrebonne Parish with you tomorrow, right?”

  Fin gave Ryder a grim smile. “Yeah. She’s going with me.”

  “Don’t think it will change much if she tries the web again.”

  “You have an expert on it,” Fin protested.

  “But Avalon found it.”

  “Okay, you’re right—we need to go eat.” Fin gestured that he and Avalon should leave.

  “I’m sure they’re done eating by now,” Avalon said.

  “They’ll still be there,” Fin assured her.

  It was strange to leave with the place so completely empty. As they walked back down the block, Avalon said, “You really think that was just a prank? Or, not a prank, but something like a hate joke?”

  He looked at her. “Samara Stella hasn’t been taking precautions—she’s been walking around on her own, she’s been in her place of business every day. If a killer wanted her dead—if this killer wanted her dead—she’d be dead.”

  Avalon nodded. “How awful. It’s just so...strange.” She turned to him fiercely. “You know none of my friends did this.”

  “Yeah. But I still need all the information on every possible place that someone might have gotten one of those dolls.”

  They walked across the street.

  As they’d expected, their group had finished with their meal. But the table was now empty.

  “Your night—social interrogating night—is ruined,” Avalon said.

  “Yes. Interesting,” he said.

  “How is that?”

  “What if it was meant to be ruined?” he asked.

  Avalon shook her head. “What? In your life, everything comes back to the investigation that you’re working on. It must be hard to be so suspicious of people you just met.”

  He smiled. “Avalon, chill. I’m not after your people—other than that I’d like help from them. Should we just get some food to go?”

  “You’re coming back to the house with me?”

  “I am.”

  “Fine.”

  At the restaurant, they ordered food to go. As they stood there, waiting at the reception desk by the small shop, Avalon shivered.

  “What?” he asked her.

  She shook her head. “Samara was here, but you know that. But when she spoke to me...she was nervous. Jumpy. Then she mentioned that it might be me they were watching.”

  “Yes, she mentioned it. So she was nervous, jumpy—scared even. And this was before she went back to her place and saw the doll.”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, she had people in the venue when the doll was placed—employees, customers. But there is a back door that backs out to an alley. People come and go through the back all the time, taking out trash, stepping out for a cigarette or to accept a delivery. It’s highly likely that the back door is unlocked most of the time and whoever did this, knew it.” He hesitated, looking at her. “What happened tonight was a distraction. Maybe more. I wonder if this killer or killers aren’t grandstanders. They do all this with the intent of creating alarm and confusion and they love watching the police and law enforcement trip over themselves trying to make a connection...or not making connections at all.”

  “And it might have been something else entirely.”

  “Yes. You just shivered. Do you feel that someone is watching you now?”

  “No... I just remember that she was frightened. And she isn’t a frail person—she’s not the kind of woman who jumps at a shadow.”

  The food came. Fin paid the bill and accepted the bag, then they headed out.

  “You have a car here?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. I was on the same streetcar as you and your friends. I can hail one of Ryder’s people, or we can hop the streetcar back. Your call.”

  “Ryder’s people are hopefully busy. Let’s get the streetcar.”

  It was a nice night. The heat that could hang over southern Louisiana seemed to have lifted with the fall of night. The air was pleasant. Avalon remained thoughtful rather than shaken as she walked by his side.

  She turned to look at him. “Terrebonne Parish. Is the police station we’re going to in Houma?”

  “It is.”

  “I wonder why this didn’t come up right away—Christy Island just isn’t that far.”

  “Because the body was so decomposed and degraded that it didn’t seem similar.”

  “But maybe it is?”

  “Everything is a maybe right now. But I’d like to head back out to Christy Island after discovering what I can at the Houma station.”

  “And you want me to go.”

  He sighed. “I don’t want to take advantage of your willingness to help, Avalon. But, yes. If you want.”

  “Oh, I want. I want to find out the truth behind all of this. I want whoever did this to Cindy to be put away forever, the key thrown in the middle of the Gulf. I’m ready.”

  They passed shops and restaurants—the Magazine Street area was also alive and brimming with life despite the hour.

  Several passengers awaited the streetcar. They didn’t speak as they boarded and the trip back down to the stop for the French Quarter didn’t take long.

  It was nearing midnight by the time they reached the house. Still, Fin followed her in.

  “They might have all gone to bed,” Avalon told him.

  “Let’s see. I think we should find Boris. And I’m pretty sure I heard voices in the courtyard.”

  Avalon gave him a fierce frown but opened the door to the courtyard.

  He was right; none of the group had gone to bed. Boris, Terry, Brad, Leo, Kevin and Lauren were all seated around one of the tables. A few had cold drinks in front of them. A few were drinking coffee despite the hour.

  “So what the hell happened?” Boris demanded, seeing them and jumping to his feet.

  Kevin stood, too, and he and Boris each grabbed another chair. Lauren stared at Avalon, seeming to demand answers.

  Avalon lifted a hand, shaking her head, leaving the explanation to Fin.

  They sat in the offered chairs and unpacked their take-out from the restaurant. Fin was hungry, and their Italian dishes were still delicious despite traveling. He and Avalon ate while the others asked questions and Fin tried to answer.

  When Fin finished telling them about what Samara Stella had found in her theater, Boris looked at Avalon. “It was one of those dolls made by the Richter-Olsen Company?”

  “Yes. I believe other companies create something similar, but it did look like the same kind of doll we used in that short film years ago.”

  “That’s where it would come from?” Fin asked. “The Richter-Olsen Company? Where is it? Where is their factory?”

  “There’s one not far from here,” Kevin said. “As you can imagine, New Orleans is a place
where fabricators can go crazy. They’re doing a lot of film here now, and when they’re not doing film, we have not just Mardi Gras, but Decadence Fest and a dozen other festivals. Wig shops, costume shops and prop shops all have plenty of business. But...wow. I mean, this can’t have anything to do with—with what happened to Cindy, can it?”

  “Probably not,” Fin said. He saw that Avalon glared at him. “But you never know. So how was dinner?”

  Leo let out a sniff and shook his head. “Did one of them blurt out the fact that they were really crazy killers? No. Gary—I guess he’s the brains in the operation—mainly talked about their session with their attorney. None of them are rich on their own, but none of them are starving, either. Apparently, they’ve been convinced that some cleanup could turn the island into a remarkable moneymaker.”

  “Cara acted as if she was a bit ashamed of the idea—she liked Cindy, said she was beautiful and sweet, and they’d talked about makeup and the island. She said that it was devastating, but they couldn’t make anything bad in the past go away. All any of us could do was move forward,” Kevin told them. “She was concerned, though.”

  “Julian wasn’t,” Lauren said. “He was a jerk. Said it was their island and they couldn’t help the fact that the police and the FBI were incompetent. You know, he seems to think that he’s God’s gift to women and I have news for him—he’s a jerk.”

  Brad laughed. “He asked Lauren out. Seemed shocked when she said no.”

  “I wasn’t rude!” Lauren said. “He’s just...full of himself.” She managed a laugh. “And he’s not even an actor.”

  “Hey!” Kevin protested. “I’m an actor—and I’m a doll!”

  “You are,” Lauren assured him, laughing.

  “What about me?” Leo asked.

  “You’re okay. Sometimes, I like you best as a mime. You’re quiet that way,” Lauren said.

  “Whoa!” Leo protested.

  “We’re getting off course here,” Boris said. He looked at Fin. “Seriously, we hoped you two were coming back, but there were cop cars on the streets, and we saw officers running around and people milling, so...we tried to draw them out. Cara, Gary, Kenneth...and Julian. All we got was teary-eyed malarkey from Cara, swagger from Julian, business from Gary and a bunch of nods from Kenneth. He seems the least concerned. What his cousins want to do, he’s okay with it. But he is anxious to see the place cleaned up. Wants the cops or the FBI or whoever is keeping the entire island in crime-scene tape to finish up. He says if...” He paused, a frown wrinkling his features.