Halloween Is Murder

by Carolyn Arnold

  The receptionist took her hand. “Allison.”

  “I know you recently lost a colleague,” Sara said gently. “We’re very sorry for your loss.”

  Sean glanced over at Sara, now clear on what she was doing.

  “Thank you.” Allison’s voice slipped from her earlier professionalism to a mournful tone.

  “Were you two close?” Sara asked.

  Allison shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Still…” Sara licked her lips. “It’s hard when someone we know dies.”

  Even though Sara may have had an ulterior motive, she was also sincere. Sean loved her more for it.

  “Yeah, it is.” Allison’s words came out short, and she seemed to be clamming up.

  Sara pressed on, though. “Do you know what happened to her?” she asked.

  The muscles in Allison’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  Not allowed to, or won’t?

  Sean kept the thought to himself, but as a cop, it would have been his rebuttal.

  “So something bad, then.” Sara seemed to be balancing her words and manner carefully.

  Allison’s gaze drifted past them, and she bit her bottom lip.

  “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell us,” Sara reassured her.

  “I just… I can’t.”

  Sara nodded.

  “Is this why you want to talk to Mr. Bishop?” Allison’s voice took on a sharp edge, and she was still looking over their shoulders.

  “No.” Sara paused long enough that Allison looked at her again. “Chloe interviewed us yesterday.”

  “Oh yeah?” Allison didn’t sound too convinced. Their names or faces apparently meant nothing to her, despite them being big news awhile back. Not only due to the fact that Sean had inherited all the money but because he had found love with his partner on the job and the two of them went on to solve murders the police hadn’t. But in all fairness, the real hype had been years ago, and Your Source hadn’t come to them.

  “She was doing a segment on the haunted house we opened,” Sara began and then proceeded to provide the location. “All the proceeds are going to charity.”

  “Oh wow,” Allison said, her tone softening. “That’s nice.”

  “Yes, and, unfortunately, the story wasn’t shared last night…” Sara rolled her hand, implying due to Chloe’s death, but somehow managed to pull it off without coming across as insensitive.

  “Ah.” Allison’s eyes lit with understanding. “So you want to talk to Mr. Bishop to find out when your segment will air?”

  “Exactly.” Sara smiled and would even have convinced Sean that’s all she wanted if he didn’t know better.

  “Well, unfortunately—”

  “Please don’t send us away.” Sara sounded almost desperate. “The people of Albany need to know about this haunted house. The children who have already visited have loved it, and the funds are for charity…” Sara dangled the word; it was hard to ignore.

  “Still.” Allison let her gaze go from Sara to Sean. “He’s not going to be too happy if I—”

  Sean reached for Sara’s hand and let out a disappointed sigh. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

  They both turned to step away.

  “Wait,” Allison called after them.

  Sean and Sara stopped walking and faced her.

  “I probably should just let you leave.” Allison seemed conflicted as she worried her bottom cherry-red lip.

  They closed the distance between them and the counter.

  “But I could give you Jackson’s information,” Allison continued in a near whisper.

  “Jackson?” Sean asked, not sure where Allison was going with this.

  “He was her cameraman. You should have met him.” Allison shrank back from them, as if rethinking her decision to share with them.

  “Yes, we know Jackson,” Sean said. “You think he could help us find out what’s going to happen to our segment?”

  “Uh-huh.” Shadows fell over Allison’s face. “He could also do more than that… Well, maybe.”

  Sean found himself leaning in, and Allison moved back. He straightened his posture so as not to intimidate her. “What else could he help us with?”

  “He’s not in today,” she said, ignoring his question, “but I can give you his phone number and his home address.”

  It was obvious she was holding something back, but Sean wasn’t sure how much he should push her. What else could Jackson tell them besides the status of their segment? They’d only asked about one other thing, and that was Chloe’s death. Did Jackson have something to offer them in that regard? Surely, he’d be bound to silence about the matter, as Allison was.

  “We’d appreciate that,” Sara said, looking over at him.

  “We would,” Sean agreed.

  Allison turned to her computer and clicked the mouse a few times, made some keystrokes, and mere seconds later was scribbling on a piece of paper.

  She extended the slip to Sara. “Here you go.”

  Sara looked at it briefly. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” Allison looked away and started worrying her lip again.

  “You know, if this is going to get you in trouble, we can get his information ourselves,” Sean offered.

  “No.” Allison shook her head. “Maybe you can help him…”

  “Help Jackson?” Sean asked to clarify.

  “Yeah.”

  Sara leaned in and angled her head. “And why would he need help?”

  Allison swallowed loudly. “He’s the one who found Chloe.”

  -

  Chapter 5

  GRIM REAPER CLAIMS A VICTIM

  “THERE SURE IS A LOT of secrecy surrounding Chloe’s death,” Sara said. “And they’ve all been ordered to keep quiet?” She looked over at Sean, who was behind the wheel, and arched an eyebrow. “That seems suspicious to me.”

  “The station could be protecting their image. She could have had a drug overdose, something else…” he pointed out as he took a left turn, as directed by the GPS.

  She wished she could run with that theory, but given their background as homicide detectives, her mind had to rule out murder first. “No, Sean, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, before we get carried away, let’s talk to Jackson.” Sean steered the car into an apartment building parking lot.

  She’d been working to quiet the voices in her head speculating about how Chloe had died, but speaking with Allison had only ratcheted up their chatter. She needed answers to quell her mind. She also felt a personal obligation to ensure justice was found, probably because she’d known Chloe—even if only for a brief time. Of course, that was assuming she’d been killed.

  “And that poor man discovering his coworker,” Sara began. “I wonder where he found her and if he knows how she died.”

  “Hopefully we’ll find out.” Sean got out of the car, came around, and opened her door. He held out a hand to her. “Keep in mind that Jackson might not be too happy to see us.”

  “I know,” she said, taking his hand. “But if nothing else comes of this, maybe we’ll find out what happened to our segment.”

  “Yeah, but will you be satisfied if that’s the only question we get answered?” He looked over at her as he held the front door of the building open for her. The glint in his eyes told her he doubted she’d let the matter of Chloe’s death go until she had all the boxes checkmarked and found out what had happened.

  “I’d be lying if I said otherwise, and you know it. But please—” she took his hand “—just keep an open mind.”

  Sean nodded. Sara often ran with her feelings, her hunches, her higher knowing, and did so on a whim. In contrast, Sean was compelled by reason, logic, and solid evidence.

  They walked up to Jackson’s apartment on the third floor and knocked. Sean was about to knock again when footsteps padded toward the door. Then all went quiet for a bit. She imagined Jackson looking at them through the pe
ephole.

  “Jackson?” Sara called out. “It’s the McKinleys.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “From the haunted house.” Maybe he needed a little more of a reminder.

  Sean was shaking his head, and if she was reading his mind properly, he was thinking their coming here had been a bad idea.

  “We’d like to talk to you about Chloe,” she said, certain to articulate in such way that he’d sense concern, not suspicion.

  The chain rattled as it was being undone, and the handle turned. The door opened slowly.

  Jackson was standing there in tattered jeans and a T-shirt. His eyes looked weary, and they were wet with unshed tears. Based on his complexion, she guessed that they had interrupted him crying.

  “She’s dead.” He spat out the words in a cool manner, as if trying to separate reality from emotion, but it only made his pain that much more tangible.

  “May we come in?” she asked.

  Jackson looked at Sean and then back to Sara. He stepped to the side and gestured for them to enter.

  Inside the apartment, he pointed to a beat-up couch that had holes through the fabric of one arm and a cushion, exposing the foam underneath. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were a long, rectangular coffee table in front of the couch, a small flat-screen television, and a cable box.

  Sara and Sean sat on the couch, and Jackson parked himself on a corner of the coffee table, facing them.

  “We were shocked to hear about Chloe’s death,” Sara began. “We’re so sorry.”

  Jackson ran a hand under his nose and sniffed. “Whatcha gonna do?”

  Another stab at indifference, but it was clear in his eyes, his tone of voice, and his body language that he was devastated.

  While she wanted to find out how Chloe died, she wasn’t going to rush it, especially not at the expense of showing compassion. She’d found, even as a homicide detective, that she got a lot further by displaying genuine kindness to and interest in those who were affected by the death than by being brash and insensitive. That was not to say that she was naive, though. Most often, victims knew their killers. Getting answers and full disclosure when it came to a death investigation called for toeing a delicate line between demanding answers and finessing people into talking. For now, she’d stick to remaining friendly and put herself in Jackson’s shoes.

  “Did you know Chloe a long time?” she asked.

  “Sorry about your spotlight,” Jackson said, completely disregarding her question. “I would have made sure it aired, but…”

  “We’re not here about that.” She felt Sean’s stare burning her profile, but she wasn’t going to acknowledge him. Fine, they were there for that reason, but it wasn’t the only one. Sara’s priority had always been to find out what happened to Chloe.

  Jackson angled his head. “Why are you here, then?”

  Sara looked at him, keeping her gaze soft. “We heard you were the one to find her.”

  “Yeah, it—” Jackson squinted. “Wait, who told you that?”

  Sara looked at Sean now. “That doesn’t matter,” he said.

  “What he means is that we have our sources,” Sara interjected. “You might know that we are private investigators.”

  Jackson rubbed behind an ear. “Are you investigating her murder?”

  The skin on the back of Sara’s neck tightened, and her heartbeat picked up speed. “Her murder?”

  Jackson nodded. “I believe she was murdered, anyway. But I’m not sure how the police are looking at it. They did question me for some time, though.”

  If Spidey senses existed in real life, she’d have them. Her body was tingling all over.

  “The cops verified my alibi and let me go,” Jackson added. “But her death, murder, whatever, wasn’t why your segment didn’t air.”

  That meant he’d know the suspected time of death, one more piece of information they didn’t have yet. He’d also know where she’d died.

  “When did it happen?” Sara broached this with kindness.

  “They were asking about yesterday afternoon from one to four, but I was at the station until three.” Jackson parted with this information easily.

  Until three? That was still within the time-of-death window. How had his alibi been verified if there was a missing hour? The answer might simply be that the detectives investigating the case weren’t as convinced that Chloe was murdered as Jackson was.

  “And after three?” Sean asked.

  “I stopped home for a shower and then headed over to Chloe’s apartment. I got there about four.”

  “And that’s where you found her?” Sara ventured.

  “Uh-huh.” Jackson’s cool and detached response showed that he had checked out emotionally again.

  “Was her door locked? Sean asked.

  The young cameraman nodded. “Yeah.”

  “So you have a key to her place?” Sean asked.

  Jackson nodded. “She gave it to me when we were dating.”

  “When you were dating?” Sean pressed.

  “We broke up last week,” Jackson swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “She just didn’t ask for her key back yet, and I didn’t offer it. I was still hoping we’d get back together.”

  Sara gave him a sad smile. “You loved her.”

  “You could say that,” Jackson said. “I’m not exactly the settling-down type, but with Chloe, I think I may have eventually gotten there.”

  “How long were you dating…before you went your separate ways?” Sara asked.

  “Six months.” Jackson spit it out so quickly, it was obvious he didn’t need to think about it. That implied he’d been invested in the relationship, and by extension, might not have been too happy when things had ended.

  “Why did you break up?” Sean asked.

  Jackson turned to Sean. “She said she wanted space, that I was suffocating her.”

  The flicker in Jackson’s eyes told Sara the breakup had hurt him deeply, but there was also a hint of anger there. Sara remembered the tension she’d felt between them at the haunted house when Chloe asked Jackson to dole out the mics. For a moment, the rose-colored glasses that she’d been looking at Jackson through weren’t so rosy.

  “How was your relationship since the breakup?” Sean must have smelled guilt in the air, as well.

  “Tense at times. I don’t know what was going on with her, but she wasn’t her normal self. She was always in a hurry and moody.”

  Sara remembered seeing Chloe looking at her watch. She had just assumed Chloe was a busy reporter who was governed by the clock.

  Sean leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “If you broke up, why were you going to her place?”

  Sara was happy that Sean was asking the more direct questions. Their partnership worked well for this reason and so many more.

  Jackson moved in toward them. “What I say next can’t leave this room.”

  “We promise. Whatever you say will stay between us,” Sara responded swiftly. In her peripheral vision, she saw Sean look at her. He wasn’t big on promising anything during an investigation, but seeing as this wasn’t technically their case, what was he upset about? A part of her felt a flare of victory. Maybe he wasn’t going to be against looking into Chloe’s death, after all.

  Jackson’s eyes scanned theirs, then his gaze fell to the floor, drawing Sara’s to a frayed carpet that had long since seen its glory days.

  He took a deep breath. “I usually pass the footage off to Chloe to look at before I hand it off to the editor. If my boss found out—” his face became a frightened mask “—I’d have more to worry about than grieving. In most cases, the reporter will review the footage, but at the station, not in their home. And not until the editor has done their thing.”

  “But Chloe had a certain way she liked to work,” Sara guessed.

  Jackson’s eyes went to her. “You could say that. She was very particular. She liked to watch the raw footage—that’s before the segments were edi
ted—and give me notes…” He took another deep breath, and his eyes glazed over. He cleared his throat. “I’d leave the data card with her. Then she would give me notes on what she’d like cut and what she wanted to stay, and I’d work with the editor to make it happen.”

  “She sounds like she wanted everything to be perfect,” Sara said.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it. Type A personality, all the way. It got very annoying at times, and we’d have differences of opinion.”

  “So run us through how everything worked with you two exactly,” Sean said, his voice having a familiar edge to it, the one that meant he was eager for more information. “You took the footage and passed it over to Chloe?”

  “Yes, after filming.”

  “So after each segment was filmed?” Sara wanted clarification.

  “No. After the taping was done in the morning, we’d normally work on our pieces.”

  “Then what? You’d get the footage back from her and…?” Sean was doing his best to lead Jackson along.

  “Well, the stories are transferred to the station’s main server where they’re backed up, but the data cards that go into the cameras are reused,” Jackson explained. “And Chloe knows how important it is to keep a close eye on them. You wouldn’t want the competition getting ahold of your footage, for example. They could sweep in, steal your story, and broadcast it before you get a chance.” He paused. “It’s more of an issue when it’s headline news. No offense to your story.”

  Sara smiled. “None taken.” It was easy to see the difference in priority between a local community piece and a report on a high-profile criminal case or breaking news.

  “I’m getting the feeling a data card went missing?” Sean ventured.

  Jackson nodded. “And the only way that could happen is if someone took it—intentionally.” He ground out the last word.

  So why would Chloe’s killer want the data stick from the camera?

  “What was on the data card that you can’t find?” Sara asked.

  “It was your segment and a piece on a local retail costume store, the Wardrobe. Yesterday was Halloween for Chloe and me.”

  Hardly something worth stealing. Maybe the killer had been after something else and mixed up one data card for another. “Do the data cards for the cameras look like others out there?”