“Real actors will get into the coffins—and they’ll sit up groaning or jump out.”
“Nice.”
“It’s definitely spooky at night,” Mo said.
She came to a small mausoleum off the side of a path. “This is, er, my haunting ground. And where I saw Andre.”
He wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or the ghost of Lizzie, but suddenly he heard something like a whoosh of air.
He thought maybe the spirit gasped.
Rollo barked.
Mo smiled.
“What is it?” Aidan asked.
“He’s here—and they’ve seen each other,” Mo whispered.
“Ah.”
“Oh, Aidan, it’s really lovely. Try to see.”
He did see...something. Two indistinct shapes. The one shape he’d come to know—and another. It almost seemed as if light clouds circled each other—and finally came together.
He couldn’t tell if he simply heard Mo’s description of the two of them embracing—or if he actually saw them, a man and a woman meeting after a very long time.
He waited before he whispered to Mo, “Can she take us to her daughter’s grave? I don’t mean to be callous, but...time’s slipping away.”
She turned to him. “You can ask her, Aidan.”
He shook his head. “I know they’re there,” he said. “But I can’t see their faces. I just have what everyone has, Mo. The sense of someone else there.”
She studied him for a minute and he found himself caught in the beauty of her eyes. He stood very still; something in her made him want to reach out, to touch her—hold her as he believed Andre held his precious Lizzie. But he had to keep his distance. He’d touched her once and it had been wrong. He was an agent, here for a short time, working a case. They seemed to share some kind of attraction—physical, yes, but more than that. She aroused his instincts and his feelings. He forced himself not to think about caressing her face or kissing her lips. The thought was enough to arouse all those male instincts and this definitely wasn’t the time or place.
“You knew something when you came here, when you first came to Sleepy Hollow,” she said.
He nodded. “I knew that Richard was dead.”
“How?”
“I dreamed about him coming to tell me.”
She nodded with a grim smile.
“Yeah. Too bad he didn’t tell me who did it, right?” he asked, his tone harsher than he would have liked.
“He came to you because he knew you’d pursue his murderer. That you’d achieve justice,” she told him. Then she stepped forward and spoke gently with the ghosts he couldn’t quite see.
“We can go to the cemetery now,” she said a minute or two later. They thanked Sondra for letting them in and left, with Mo promising she’d be back in plenty of time for costuming and makeup for the night’s event.
He drove them toward the Old Dutch Church and turned onto the road by the graveyard, along the border of Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. He parked as close as he could to the site where St. Andrew’s Church had once stood. Where they’d found the bodies of Richard Highsmith and Wendy Appleby and the vault where they’d been beheaded.
The killer’s lair, Aidan thought.
When they were out of the car, Rollo barked and wagged his tail. But he wasn’t following a scent; he followed in the wake of the ghosts.
They climbed uphill and came to the vaults. They passed the tomb where Wendy Appleby’s form had pointed the way to the inner sanctum.
They came to another vault deep in the recesses of a hill.
Aidan noted that the name in worn stone atop the vault was Bakker.
“That’s Lizzie’s cousin’s married name,” Mo said.
“And Lizzie’s daughter is buried there?” Aidan asked.
“Yes,” Mo told him after conferring with the ghost.
Aidan walked up to the heavy brass gate that guarded what appeared to be an old seal. To his surprise, when he set his hand on the lever to open the gate, it gave. He pushed at what should have been a two-hundred-year-old seal.
It, too, gave.
He pulled a penlight from his pocket and ran its beam over the inside of the tomb as he entered. He felt Rollo come up to him and knew that Mo was directly behind.
Inside was an altar. To either side were rows and rows of dead but the seals seemed to be mostly intact.
The vault was very dark, and his penlight did little to illuminate the space. He heard a squeal, but it was just a rat racing by. The dog barked his disapproval. Mo, however, didn’t react.
Then he felt as if he’d been touched again. Someone urged him to turn, to follow. At the back of the tomb was a sarcophagus in heavy stone with a name deeply engraved in it. “Elizabeth Bakker Highsmith.”
“Highsmith!” he said, his voice choked. He looked at Mo.
“What do you think it means?” she asked.
“I’m assuming it means that Richard was tracing his family tree. That he found out somehow that he’d had a relative he hadn’t known about who’d lived back in the Revolutionary days. What I can’t figure out is how it could be connected to his death.”
“But he was from here, isn’t that right?”
Aidan nodded. “But...time passes. And if he’d learned about this grave being here, he probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it. Everyone from this area has ancestors buried in one or more of these cemeteries.”
“It’s still possible that Lizzie’s grave doesn’t really have anything to do with why he was killed,” Mo said.
He was thoughtful. “I don’t think so. The matchbook with Lizzie grave on it came from the Mystic Magic strip club. And Wendy Appleby, who worked there, was targeted when she came to hear Richard speak. They were killed together. It all has to mean something,” he said. He turned around abruptly. In the near-total darkness of the mausoleum, he couldn’t see the ghosts at all—they weren’t even puffs of white in the air. But he said aloud, “Thank you, Miss Hampton. Thank you, Major Andre. Right now I don’t know exactly what this means, but it may become very important.”
A silence hung in the dank air of the tomb.
Then Mo spoke. “You’re welcome, Aidan. If they’ve helped in any way, they’re pleased.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let me get you home so you don’t miss your call time.” He paused. Had Richard Highsmith been here?
The gate and the seal had given easily. Someone had come here not long ago. Richard? Or someone else?
“Let’s go,” he said.
“I should get there soon. And I still have to take Rollo to the house. Grace is picking me up there, so if I’m late, she will be, too.”
As he started to leave the tomb, he bumped into her and instinctively set his hands on her to steady them both. He felt as if the scent of her soap or perfume pushed away that of death and decay. The warmth of her body, so close to his, was vibrant, filled with life.
He wanted to pull her against him and hold her there and believe for just a minute that he’d found the answers. That they could step into the daylight together and...
“Sorry!” he murmured.
“It’s okay. I must say, a living human touch in here is nice.”
Rollo whined.
“Oh, yes, and so is a dog. A dog’s always good!” she said.
He left the tomb, catching her hand so she could easily follow. Rollo had no problem; it seemed he could see in the dark.
Aidan didn’t release her hand as he picked his way through the monuments and stones to go back down to the car. She didn’t seem to mind keeping her hand in his.
As he neared the pathway that would hide the vault from their view, he looked back. For a moment, he at least imagined he could see them.
The handsome
Andre—“more unlucky than criminal”—and the beautiful woman he had secretly loved before his death.
The woman who’d paid the ultimate price for loving him.
He walked on down the hill, Mo’s hand in his, Rollo beside the two of them.
What the hell did it all mean?
If he could figure that out, he just might catch the killers.
CHAPTER 12
Grace showed up just as they returned to Mo’s house. She spoke with Aidan while Mo took Rollo inside, fed him and made sure his water bowl was filled before heading out for the night.
They said goodbye to Aidan and got into Grace’s car to leave. Grace waved as she eased out of Mo’s drive.
Then she turned to Mo, beaming. “So?”
“So?”
“Have you two done it yet?”
“Grace! He’s an agent, working on the case.”
“He’s a man, honey. You mean to tell me you haven’t...” She shook her head. “You’re one asexual woman. If you don’t do something pretty soon, what a waste! A total waste. Do you want me to offer myself up? You can’t just let a divine hunk of masculinity like that go! What’s the matter with you? I mean, what’s available here? Tommy Jensen? Creepy Tommy?”
“Grace!” Mo protested.
Grace said, “Oh, we all like Tommy now. There’s nothing wrong with him. Granted, he’s more like a brother. And Phil’s like another brother from a different mother! Or Ron...never mind, he’s gay and in a good relationship. But what are you doing?”
“Grace!”
“Tell me you aren’t fascinated with the guy.”
“I am.”
“Oh!” Grace said, clearly surprised. “Well, then?”
Mo sighed and swung around to look at her. “What do you want me to do, Grace? Just say, ‘Agent Mahoney, the pickings here are slim, and you’ve got all the right parts, and they seem to be in working order. Should we have sex?’”
“No, that would be rude. Crude.”
“Worse than rude or crude. Humiliating!” Mo groaned.
“It’s the way you said it. Just, ‘I’d love to have sex with you.’ That would be the way to do it,” Grace said.
Mo groaned again.
“If you don’t see it, you’re blind. Sparks seem to pop off both of you when you’re together.”
“I’m trying to help him find a killer!”
“And he will find the killer,” Grace said with certainty. “That’s his job. It’s what he does. But he’s still a man and he deserves a life beyond work!”
Mo couldn’t argue with that. “Don’t we all,” she murmured. “I brought him by the Haunted Mausoleum today,” she said, hoping to change the topic.
“That should’ve been fun—but I’m sure you turned it into work somehow.”
Mo didn’t answer. “We’re just studying local legends, you know?”
“And only you could make that not fun!”
Mo didn’t bother to respond; they’d reached the Haunted Mausoleum.
She went in to start her makeup right away. Grace joined Phil and some of the others and indulged in donuts.
Sondra stopped by the makeup chair to tell Mo she’d enjoyed meeting Aidan Mahoney. Ron pursed his lips as he worked on Mo’s face.
Mo remembered guiltily that she’d promised to ask about a job for Debbie Howell. She told Sondra about her—and about how she’d be trying to keep the orphaned son of her murdered friend.
“You know this woman well?” Sondra asked her.
“Not that well,” Mo replied honestly. “But I’ve seen the way J.J. looks at her and I believe she’s good person and deserves a chance. She also knows everything about this area.”
“Have your friend call me. We’ll arrange an interview,” Sondra assured her. “As you know, I love doing research on the area. My family goes back so far... I could use an assistant on that angle and someone from here who knows and loves the place would be perfect. I’m researching a story about Continental currency right now.”
In the mirror, Mo could see Ron raise his brows as he worked on her hair. “Continental currency?” he asked. “What’s that?”
“The paper currency issued by the Continental Congress. A lot of it supposedly disappeared from this area before the Civil War,” Sondra said.
“Was it worth anything by that time?” he asked.
“Certainly. There were collectors then, just as there are now,” Sandra explained. “And, of course, there were thieves then, too.”
“Yeah? I’d imagine they used it for kindling!” Ron said. “When the Revolution was over, wasn’t it about useless?”
“Ron, we won the Revolution,” Sondra said, smiling.
“Yeah, but—”
“New money was printed after that, yes, and quite quickly. That’s why Continental currency became so valuable to collectors. Well, that’s all just a bit of history, and as I said, I’d like to write an article on it. Anyway, back to tonight’s work. Mo, bring your agent friend by anytime,” Sondra said, and moved on through the dressing area and makeup room to return to the front office.
“Ooh,” Ron teased Mo. “The plot thickens.”
“Continental currency?” she asked.
“No! Dating the federal lawman!”
“We’re just rehashing local legends,” Mo said.
“That’s all?”
Mo lowered her head and laughed. “No, Ron, I’ve had this weird fantasy all my life—and it’s not about a knight in shining armor. It’s about an FBI man—and fooling around naked on a cold fall day in the middle of a burial ground. Oh, the decay! Wow, what a turn-on!”
Ron laughed, too, and leaned closer to her. “You own a house, my love. Use it!”
When she was ready that night and at her post, Mo didn’t expect to see Major Andre or his Lizzie. But they were both there for a moment, waving to her. Then, hand in hand, they wandered off.
She went through the motions, her mind racing.
What could Lizzie grave have had to do with Richard Highsmith’s murder? It seemed more and more evident that there was no serial killer running amok. Just someone who’d wanted both Richard and Wendy Appleby dead.
* * *
Aidan didn’t go back to the hotel. Instead, he called Logan.
The suspects they were watching were all in; they’d probably head out to dinner, but the members of the Krewe were ready to follow each one of them if necessary. Detective Van Camp had been interviewing more and more people on his own, while Detective Voorhaven had been working with the agents, ready to follow a suspect if needed or scrutinize the video screens if not.
Aidan told Logan what he’d learned. Logan promised to look into the Highsmith, Hampton and Bakker lineage to see if he could find any dark secrets—or get some facts about the murder of Lizzie herself—to decipher what it could mean. And whether it related to Richard’s death...and Wendy’s.
“The hospital’s alerted me that J.J.’s being released,” Logan said. “There’s an officer with him, so he’s fine, but I’m not sure he and Debbie should go back to Wendy Appleby’s home. At least, not yet.”
Aidan agreed. “Can we get another room on our floor?”
“I’m sure we can. I’ll book something with a door that connects to one of us.”
“Then I’ll drive to the hospital now to pick them up.”
Right after that, Aidan went to the hospital.
Even considering what they’d learned, he wasn’t sure why the killer would want to kill J.J.—or, at any rate, leave him to die in the vault. What would Richard Highsmith’s relationship with a long-dead woman have to do with Wendy or J.J.? But none of it made sense. What did make sense was to watch over J.J. and keep him safe.
When he arrived at the
hospital, both Debbie and J.J. were pleased to see him. And Debbie was relieved about his plan to take them to the hotel where his unit was staying.
Because of his nature—which was both protective and suspicious—and perhaps because of his work, he found that he was keeping a close eye on Debbie, too. She’d been close to Wendy Appleby. But J.J. evidently loved and trusted her; she’d been his mother’s best friend. And she appeared to be grateful that she was going to be at the hotel with the agents and the police. It made her feel safe, she said.
“I couldn’t tell J.J., of course, but I’ve been worried about leaving the hospital, about being alone with him. We could’ve gone to my apartment instead of his house, but I’m still scared. The only thing is...I can’t pay for the hotel. I haven’t worked since it all happened, and if I want to keep J.J., I don’t even have a job to go to anymore.”
“We’re taking care of it. J.J. is a material witness, so you don’t need to worry,” Aidan assured her.
They waited while the doctor came and signed the papers to release the boy. Then J.J. said goodbye to the medical staff who’d come to care about him. Finally, they walked down to Aidan’s car.
“Where’s Mo?” J.J. asked Aidan as they drove off.
“She’s working at the Haunted Mausoleum tonight,” Aidan told him.
“I wish you had Rollo,” J.J. mumbled.
“I’m sure you can see him tomorrow,” Aidan said. He called Logan again and found out that he’d gotten the room for Debbie and J.J. It was attached to his room. Detective Voorhaven would meet them downstairs and take them up.
Voorhaven was in the parking lot to meet them with keys. He took the bag of clothing and toiletries Wendy had brought and led the way.
Before he let her go up to their room with J.J. and Voorhaven, Aidan stopped Debbie. “I need you to do me a favor.”
“Yes?”
“I need you to think of any reason at all that someone would want Wendy dead. And what her connection with Richard might have been.”
Heather Graham Krewe of Hunters Series, Volume 4 Page 81
