Read Online All Hallows Eve: A Krewe of Hunters Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Heather Graham - Free Book Online
Authors: Heather Graham
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I see it.” She hesitated, nodding to her assistant, who was waiting to sew up the corpse. “It’s just science—and justice, right?”
“Absolutely.”
He stepped closer to the body. Sometimes, though not often, the dead could be reached by simple touch. But John Bradbury’s spirit was not with them in the room.
He thanked Laura again.
“I hate it when people use Salem,” she said. “When they do something like this, stringing a man up as if he was one of the victims from the old witch craze. It’s mocking at its worst. Ignore Mr. I-Want-A-Suicide out there and catch this killer.”
“Martin’s not a bad guy. He was just going with what appeared to be obvious. The word was out that John Bradbury had been having a bad time lately. An excellent candidate for suicide. But we owe it to him to find the truth.”
She nodded. “Glad you’re on this, Sam.”
He left the room. Martin had already stripped off the paper mask he’d worn inside. Sam did the same.
“Who the hell murders a guy like that?” Martin asked. “And how did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Sam said. “We’re involved only because of Jenna’s cousin, Elyssa.”
Martin shook his head. “I guess that’s your story and you’re sticking to it. You Feds gripe my tail. You just come and go as you please, sticking your noses into what should be a local matter.”
Sam tried to be diplomatic. He’d dealt with this attitude before. “We help local authorities solve a crime. That is all our jobs, right?”
“Yeah, I guess it is. You do know that I didn’t want this to be murder. It’s Halloween season. Patrol cops are going to have their hands full with corralling a ton of costumed drunks. Now there’s a murderer running loose among them.”
Sam pictured the boo-hag again from last night.
But no boo-hag had sucked the life out of John Bradbury.
No.
That poor man had been murdered.
Chapter 5
“During the afternoon, the only people here would have been me, Jeannette Mackey, John Bradbury, or Naomi Hardy,” Micah told Jenna. “There are deliveries during the day. And when we’re not open, the doors are supposed to be locked. Of course, we’re open during the day in the afternoons for tours, but only if we have tours. They’re by appointment only during October. That’s not to say that someone might not have left a door or window open.”
“No security cameras or alarm system?” Jenna asked.
“Yes, there’s an alarm.”
Whoever killed John Bradbury had done so in the afternoon before six o’clock since, by then, the actors and guides had reported and there were people coming and going from the basement. She asked Micah about who might have been at the mortuary that afternoon.
“It should have been locked. The only people there were the usual day workers. That’s myself and Jeannette Mackey. During the season, it included John Bradbury and Naomi Hardy. I’m not sure when I first saw Naomi that day, but Jeannette and I both came in around eleven. I didn’t see or hear anything. John had talked about taking a day off, so we assumed that he had. To be honest, while we like to be the “real” psychic deal and distance ourselves from Halloween hokum, it’s all a little bit fun. So we like being a part of it. Participating. Watching.” His voice drifted off. “We went through all of this with the police that night. They were dumbfounded that so many people who worked here, and then so many attendees went through, before anyone realized that our swinging corpse was real. There was always a corpse there and things are supposed to look authentic.”
“And the police have said that you can reopen tonight?” Jenna asked.
He shrugged. “It seems part of the attraction now. You can rent the room in Fall River where Lizzie Borden hacked her stepmother to death. You can rent the room at the Hardrock Hotel in Florida where Anna Nicole Smith died. And someone died, at some time, in a good percentage of the homes in New
“Absolutely.”
He stepped closer to the body. Sometimes, though not often, the dead could be reached by simple touch. But John Bradbury’s spirit was not with them in the room.
He thanked Laura again.
“I hate it when people use Salem,” she said. “When they do something like this, stringing a man up as if he was one of the victims from the old witch craze. It’s mocking at its worst. Ignore Mr. I-Want-A-Suicide out there and catch this killer.”
“Martin’s not a bad guy. He was just going with what appeared to be obvious. The word was out that John Bradbury had been having a bad time lately. An excellent candidate for suicide. But we owe it to him to find the truth.”
She nodded. “Glad you’re on this, Sam.”
He left the room. Martin had already stripped off the paper mask he’d worn inside. Sam did the same.
“Who the hell murders a guy like that?” Martin asked. “And how did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Sam said. “We’re involved only because of Jenna’s cousin, Elyssa.”
Martin shook his head. “I guess that’s your story and you’re sticking to it. You Feds gripe my tail. You just come and go as you please, sticking your noses into what should be a local matter.”
Sam tried to be diplomatic. He’d dealt with this attitude before. “We help local authorities solve a crime. That is all our jobs, right?”
“Yeah, I guess it is. You do know that I didn’t want this to be murder. It’s Halloween season. Patrol cops are going to have their hands full with corralling a ton of costumed drunks. Now there’s a murderer running loose among them.”
Sam pictured the boo-hag again from last night.
But no boo-hag had sucked the life out of John Bradbury.
No.
That poor man had been murdered.
Chapter 5
“During the afternoon, the only people here would have been me, Jeannette Mackey, John Bradbury, or Naomi Hardy,” Micah told Jenna. “There are deliveries during the day. And when we’re not open, the doors are supposed to be locked. Of course, we’re open during the day in the afternoons for tours, but only if we have tours. They’re by appointment only during October. That’s not to say that someone might not have left a door or window open.”
“No security cameras or alarm system?” Jenna asked.
“Yes, there’s an alarm.”
Whoever killed John Bradbury had done so in the afternoon before six o’clock since, by then, the actors and guides had reported and there were people coming and going from the basement. She asked Micah about who might have been at the mortuary that afternoon.
“It should have been locked. The only people there were the usual day workers. That’s myself and Jeannette Mackey. During the season, it included John Bradbury and Naomi Hardy. I’m not sure when I first saw Naomi that day, but Jeannette and I both came in around eleven. I didn’t see or hear anything. John had talked about taking a day off, so we assumed that he had. To be honest, while we like to be the “real” psychic deal and distance ourselves from Halloween hokum, it’s all a little bit fun. So we like being a part of it. Participating. Watching.” His voice drifted off. “We went through all of this with the police that night. They were dumbfounded that so many people who worked here, and then so many attendees went through, before anyone realized that our swinging corpse was real. There was always a corpse there and things are supposed to look authentic.”
“And the police have said that you can reopen tonight?” Jenna asked.
He shrugged. “It seems part of the attraction now. You can rent the room in Fall River where Lizzie Borden hacked her stepmother to death. You can rent the room at the Hardrock Hotel in Florida where Anna Nicole Smith died. And someone died, at some time, in a good percentage of the homes in New
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