Lord of the Wings (22 page)

I opened my mouth to suggest that the usual metaphor was “water under the bridge,” but thought better of it. Maybe the mangled metaphor, with its suggestion that we were in danger of being swept away by a flood, was deliberate.

“At the moment, the biggest thing that's not working right is the Halloween night duty schedule,” Randall said. “I must have told Lydia half a dozen times that the whole point is to come up with a schedule that gives us the maximum number of people on duty while also leaving the maximum number of people free to take their kids trick-or-treating or answer the door for the trick-or-treaters.”

“That's probably pretty hard for someone who doesn't yet know all the personalities.” I was proud of how tactful I sounded.

“Also hard for someone who doesn't really give a damn about whether she's inconveniencing people,” Randall said. “And maybe isn't even as good as she claims at organizing.”

“Send me what she's got and I'll see what I can do.”

The doorbell rang, and I jumped up to open it. Aida Butler was standing outside. Obviously she'd just come on duty—her deputy's uniform was still so fresh the creases showed.

“Morning, Meg, Randall,” Aida said. “So what happened to Ms. Bossypants?”

“No idea,” Randall said. “We have no idea whether she's another victim or a fugitive from justice. Or maybe she just got fed up with her job and decided to quit without notice.”

“Um-hmm.” Aida's face left no doubt which option she thought most likely.

“We're heading down to the station to talk to the chief,” I said. “See you later.”

It was only eight o'clock, but the town was already starting to wake up. Residents and shopkeepers were out, performing the tasks needed to flip the town décor over from the Night Side to the Day Side.

“Maybe we should have come down on one side or the other,” Randall said. “Wholesome or spooky. Let's analyze it when the whole thing's over and see which one really generates more revenue.”

I nodded. If I hadn't been driving, I'd have scribbled a task in my notebook. But I wasn't likely to forget. And I didn't need to remind him that I'd said the very same thing back when we first started to plan the festival. Odds were he already remembered that. And if he didn't—as Randall had said, water over the bridge right now.

The police station parking lot was bustling. I spotted half a dozen patrol cars from neighboring counties. Good—we needed those reinforcements more than ever.

Jabba the Hutt was behind the desk again and waved us back to the chief's office. We found him on the phone.

“Yes.… No, we can handle the computer forensics here.… Yes, I understand that.… No, we use an outside firm. Data Wizards.”

I smiled. Data Wizards was a Mutant Wizards subdivision Rob had created to handle computer forensic work, once he realized what a booming business it was.

“Well, we couldn't afford them either if we had to pay their going rate,” the chief was saying. “Their offices happen to be in Caerphilly, and they give us the local discount.”

More likely Rob wouldn't charge the chief at all—just tell the Mutant Wizards accounting department to find a way to write it off as a donation.

“That's good, then. Yes, I'll be here.”

He hung up and fell back into his chair.

“State police,” he said. “They're going to send some resources.”

“That's good,” I said. “And I gather you've already talked to Rob.”

“I caught him before he left the fire,” the chief said. “Soon as we have the warrants, Rob will send over some experts to work on Mr. Klapcroft's phone and laptop. Randall, I assume I have your permission to let them work on Ms. Van Meter's office computer?”

“Absolutely,” Randall said. “I hope you've put out an APB for her?”

“We call it a BOLO these days, but yes,” the chief said. “Stands for ‘be on the lookout.' For her and her car.”

“You think she's definitely a suspect in this?” I asked.

“If she's not, it's a mighty big coincidence,” he said. “Her taking off on the lam so close to a murder. At the moment, we're just describing her as a person of interest. Might help if we could figure out exactly when she took off.”

“I haven't seen or talked to her since yesterday morning,” I said.

“I talked to her about two yesterday afternoon.” Randall pulled out his cell phone and looked at it. “Looks like she called from her office phone, instead of her cell. Two thirteen. That should narrow it down a bit.”

The chief nodded and scribbled in his notebook.

His phone rang.

“What?” His scowl quickly smoothed itself when he heard who was calling. “Yes, Your Honor. Sammy should be at your house any minute and … The gist? Well, obviously the young man we talked about yesterday didn't commit the new murder, since we had him locked up in jail, but we suspect he may be involved, and at the very least he has information that could materially assist us in finding the killer.… Not yet, Your Honor. And Ms. Van Meter is missing—we don't yet know if she skipped town or if she's another victim, but her disappearance so close to the murder … Absolutely. Thank you, Your Honor.”

He hung up with a look of satisfaction.

“Your aunt's getting me my warrants,” he said to Randall. “Now if I could just find a lawyer for Mr. Klapcroft, my joy would be complete.”

“Have we figured out if he knows either victim?” Randall asked.

“No,” the chief said. “If I knew the new victim's name, I'd toss it out and see if he reacted to it, but Horace didn't find anything on the body. No wallet, no ID, no cell phone. Just like Mr. Green, our first victim.”

“Taken by the killer, you think?”

“Most likely. In both cases.” The chief rubbed his forehead in a way I recognized as a sign that he was fighting a headache. “We've sent his fingerprints in. Maybe we'll luck out again. But I'm not optimistic. He's a lot younger than Mr. Green. And frankly, he doesn't look like a career criminal. He looks like a student.”

“Was Green a career criminal?” I asked.

“He had a long criminal history—mostly petty fraud and confidence tricks.” The chief shook his head as if more saddened than angered by this news.

“An old-fashioned con artist, then,” Randall said.

“More of a new-fangled one,” the chief replied. “He tended to troll social networking sites for his victims, and made use of e-mail and phony Web sites. Which makes me wonder if this scavenger hunt thing is somehow part of his latest scheme. Another thing I'd love to talk to Mr. Klapcroft about, when I finally find him an attorney. The county attorney's going to read the riot act to the public defenders when they get back, but that won't help me find an attorney now.”

“Let me try,” I said.

“With all due respect, I've already called just about every lawyer in town,” he said. “At least anyone with any criminal defense experience, and since this is connected to a murder case, that's mission critical.” He began rattling off a list of the attorneys he'd called.

I held up my hand. He stopped and frowned.

“Let me do what I'd do if I needed to get bailed out,” I said.

He pursed his lips and watched as I took out my phone and punched one of the speed dial buttons.

“Good morning, dear,” Mother said when she answered the phone. “Are you all right? Michael told me about what happened last night, and your father and I took the boys to school so he could nap a bit. Where are you now?”

“Down at the police station,” I said. “I need a criminal defense attorney on the double. Can you round up one as soon as possible today? We must have at least a dozen in the family; surely one is available.”

“Of course, dear,” she said. “What is it you're being charged with this time?”

“You make it sound as if I'm a hardened repeat offender,” I said. “It's not for me. The chief arrested the young man who scared the first-grade class with a fake foot during yesterday's trip to the zoo. He needs an attorney.”

“I see,” she said. “I must say, I can't imagine why you want to help him. Those poor children could be traumatized for life. Unless you want me to find him an incompetent attorney? Not, in that case, someone from the family.”

“The chief thinks he has information that may be related to the murders,” I said. “He won't talk till he gets a lawyer, and the chief needs him to talk before the killer strikes again.”

“Right,” she said. “I'll call you back.” With that she hung up.

“She's on it,” I said.

“I have every faith in your mother's ability to round up a lawyer,” Randall said. “If it was a plumber you needed, or a carpenter, I'd have no problem, but so far Aunt Jane's the only lawyer we've had in the family, and she had to go and get herself promoted to judge.”

“Even your mother might have trouble finding an attorney on such short notice,” the chief said. “On a Friday afternoon, and not just any Friday but the Friday before a weekend of a very popular holiday. If—”

My phone rang. Mother.

“Hello,” I said. “I'm putting you on speaker.” Maybe I was overconfident, but I had utter faith in Mother's ability to manage her family.

“That's nice, dear,” Mother said. “Your Cousin Festus will be down at the jail in about half an hour.”

“Festus Hollingsworth?” The chief knew my cousin thanks to all the work Festus had done in helping the town combat the evil machinations of the Pruitt family, who had mortgaged the jail and nearly put the town into bankruptcy. “Does he do criminal defense?”

“He did quite a lot of it before he decided he was tired of his clients trying to pay him with counterfeit bills and grams of cocaine,” Mother said. “That's why he moved into property law.”

“Where the thefts happen on a grander scale,” I put in.

“But he keeps his hand in doing pro bono work,” Mother said, ignoring my remark. “And he happens to be staying with us at the moment.”

“That's perfect,” I said. “Thanks!”

“Well,” the chief said. “That's moderately good news.”

“Only moderately?” Randall said.

“Festus is a sharp cookie,” the chief said. “He'll drive a hard bargain for his client.”

“So Justin will have very little chance of coming back later with a charge of inadequate representation,” I pointed out.

“True,” the chief said. “And just between you and me, I'm perfectly willing to give Mr. Klapcroft immunity on any charges resulting from his breaking and entering at the zoo, provided he tells me everything he knows about this wretched game so I can determine if it has anything to do with the murder.”

“And also provided that he isn't involved in either murder,” I put in.

“That goes without saying.” The chief was picking up his phone. “I'd better get the county attorney down here so we're ready to discuss terms if necessary.”

Randall and I waited patiently while he briefed the county attorney. When he hung up, the chief looked at us.

“You'll be wanting your Haunted House back, I suppose,” he said.

Randall looked at me.

“Only the Haunted House,” I said. “I don't think the museum is a big draw for most festival-goers—only for troublemakers.”

“By which you mean the people playing this confounded game?” the chief asked.

“Maybe. So if Horace could do whatever processing he needs to do in the upper floors, we could lock up the basement and open the house.”

“I can have a fence put up to keep people well away from the outside stairwell that leads down to the basement,” Randall said. “And a secure padlock on the gate.”

“That sounds reasonable,” the chief said. “I'll check with Horace and let you know when I'm ready to release the scene.”

“Why such gloomy faces?”

We all looked up to see my cousin Festus Hollingsworth standing in the doorway of the chief's office. He was wearing, as usual, a retro-looking three-piece suit that had probably cost more than my first car. He hugged me and shook hands warmly with Randall and the chief.

“So, where's my client, and what are you charging him with? I heard you found a body at this morning's fire. Was it a homicide?”

“Yes, but not of your client's doing,” the chief said. “He's alibied for that one. We're holding him for trespassing and endangering the welfare of a minor, but he's not off the hook for yesterday's murder, and even if he's innocent, we think he has information that could help us solve both cases.”

The chief sent a deputy to escort Justin to the interview room and then brought Festus up to speed on recent events before leading him off to meet his client.

“So now what?” Randall asked, as we watched the door close behind Festus and the chief. “Festival's starting up for the day. Assuming the news of a second murder doesn't scare all the tourists away.”

Starting up? I pulled out my phone and checked the time. Not quite 10:00
A.M.
I felt a sudden wave of exhaustion. Had I gotten two hours of sleep or three? I hoped Michael had slept a little before he had to tackle his graduate students.

“We need to find someone to run the Haunted House,” I said. “And we need to brief the Goblin Patrol on everything that's been happening. As much as the chief will let us share. And then I need to turn everything over to my second-in-command and get some sleep, because tonight's when it's all going to get really crazy.”

“Good idea.”

“And we need to check on Dr. Smoot. Dad went down to the hospital with him.” I pulled out my phone and dialed Dad. And then I punched the speaker button so Randall could hear.

“Meg!” Dad sounded cheerful. That was a good sign, wasn't it? “What's happening down there at the Haunted House?”