[Charlie Rhodes 06.0] The Incubus Impasse Page 10

  I wasn’t sure how to answer. “There might come a time when I have to watch calories,” I said finally. “I’m in my twenties. My metabolism is still revving. One day that might change.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I like that I don’t have to talk you into dessert and that you get excited at restaurants because they have big buckets in the center of the table for shells.”

  “I do enjoy the little things in life.”

  “And you’re going to enjoy the basket, which is exactly why I’m buying it for you. It will be a nice decoration for your place.”

  “The place that you’re helping pay for.”

  “Don’t start on that again. You’re safer there and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  I let loose a sigh. “Okay. Thank you for the basket.”

  “You can thank me later.”

  “Are you back to being sexy?”

  He winked. “You know it.”

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, I had my basket and we were sitting in a small coffee shop. Our table was in the shade, which was welcome given the Charleston sun, and I was happily sipping my green tea as I stared at my new gift.

  “It’s pretty cool, huh?”

  Jack arched an eyebrow and merely shook his head. “You might not be like a normal girl, but you still have girlish tendencies. Just for the record, men can’t get worked up over baskets. It’s not humanly possible.”

  Detective Rick Carter picked that moment to join us. Jack had given him a description, so he headed straight for our table. His smile was friendly, but there was curiosity lurking in the depths of his green eyes. He looked between us for a moment and then focused on the basket.

  “I see you’ve been shopping. Those things are great, aren’t they? I have, like, five of them in my house. They’re versatile and look great on tables.”

  He’d been too far away to hear Jack’s admonishment about men and baskets, so I knew it was an off-the-cuff remark. Still, it made me smirk. The look on Jack’s face was straight out of a sitcom and I had to break eye contact to keep from laughing.

  “Jack Hanson.” He was on his feet, his hand extended. “Thank you for coming. This is my associate Charlie Rhodes. We appreciate you taking time out of your day.”

  Rick nodded as he sat, glancing back and forth for a moment before signaling the waitress. “I’ll have a sweet tea and a blueberry muffin when you get the chance.”

  She nodded in acknowledgment.

  “I’m a regular here,” Rick explained. “I haven’t had lunch. As for you two, I think it’s clear you’re more than associates.”

  I shifted on my chair, uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be seen as unprofessional. It was hard enough for me to be taken seriously because of my age. “Oh, no. We’re totally associates.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “She’s my girlfriend. She says goofy things sometimes. Ignore her.”

  Rick chuckled. “It must be nice to be able to work together. I would guess, given the logistics of your job, you spend a lot of time traveling. It’s nice you have someone you care about with you on the road.”

  “It is nice,” Jack agreed, leaning back in his chair. “What do you know about the Legacy Foundation?”

  “I know more than you probably think,” Rick replied. “News that you guys were joining us spread fast. I didn’t understand why some people were so worked up ... until I did a little research on your boss. Chris Biggs has quite the reputation.”

  “He’s a good man,” I interjected hurriedly. If Rick was going to start badmouthing him, I was going to put up a fight.

  “I didn’t say he wasn’t a good man,” Rick reassured me quickly. “It’s just ... some people think he’s nuts.”

  “And how do you feel?” Jack asked, his expression unreadable. There were times Jack thought our boss was nuts, too. That didn’t mean he wasn’t loyal.

  “I feel as if this is one of those cases that’s going to haunt me forever.” Rick was matter-of-fact, something I liked. “We have eight dead women. Three of the murders are being handled by outside communities — something I’m not thrilled with — but I can’t exactly wrest control from them, much as I would like to.”

  “Why does it matter who is investigating?” I asked. “As long as everyone is working together ... .”

  “That’s just it. Not everybody is working together. The smaller communities sometimes get their backs up when they feel we’re poking our noses into their business, which I understand. I don’t want to take anything from them. I want them involved. It’s just ... well ... .”

  He didn’t finish. I was confused and looked to Jack for help.

  “Charleston has more experience when it comes to things like this,” Jack explained. “The smaller communities don’t investigate murder as often, and when they do it’s not of the serial variety.”

  “It’s not as if we’ve had a lot of serial killers,” Rick said. “We had Lavinia Fisher, who was reportedly the first female serial killer. She was active in the 1800s. In the 1960s we had Lee Roy Martin, who turned himself in after strangling two women. Pee Wee Gaskins was executed in 1991 for killing his cellmate. He killed a bunch of women in the 1970s and buried them in shallow graves. He had fourteen victims — all acquaintances. He even killed his own niece.

  “Then there’s Susan Smith, the woman who claimed her kids were carjacked but drove them into the lake while they were still strapped in the car,” he continued. “We had Larry Bell, who was a sick psychotic, and Richard Valenti, who went after young teenagers. I say this so you know we’re not unfamiliar with high-profile killers. But this one has me terrified.”

  “Because you can’t find a cause of death?” I asked.

  “That and the precision with which these crimes are occurring,” Rich replied. “The thing is, the front doors on all these homes were locked, seemingly indicating the women should’ve been safe inside. As far as I can tell, a window was open in each home, but I have to think there was some sort of coercion involved in getting the women to open the windows.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, shifting on my chair. “Why do you think the women opened the windows to allow their killers in? Doesn’t it make more sense that they had their windows open to allow in fresh air and someone took advantage of the situation?”

  Rick immediately started shaking his head. “Not in this weather. You guys are from Boston, right? I’m guessing in the summer months it’s not unheard of for you to sleep with the windows open. Down here, with the heat and out-of-control humidity, that’s rarely done.”

  That hadn’t even occurred to me, but it made sense. I flicked my eyes to Jack. “Did you think of that?”

  He shook his head. “I assumed our killer took advantage of an opening. Well, at least at first. I didn’t realize a lot of the victims had ties to each other until this morning. I’ve been re-thinking my earlier assumptions since then.”

  Rick’s eyebrows drew together. “What ties?”

  “At least four of the victims volunteered at the aquarium.”

  “Really?” He rubbed his chin. “I wasn’t aware of that. Where did you get confirmation on that?”

  “Brock Wilson. One of the managers at the aquarium. He was very helpful.”

  “It sounds like it. I’ll have to stop by and have a conversation with him. What else did he tell you?”

  “Apparently the four women were pitching an idea for a television show,” Jack replied. “They wanted it to focus on them working for various charities while trying to land rich husbands. Apparently they were very open about their intentions.

  “I can’t confirm the other women were involved in this, but ... it seems a little too convenient to be a coincidence,” he continued. “I’m guessing that someone knew about the plan and that’s how this individual got close to them.”

  Rick leaned back in his chair as the server delivered his iced tea and muffin. He smiled at her, offered a mock salute, and then returned h
is focus to us. “We don’t have the Hollywood ties that a place like Atlanta does. That said, the show Southern Charm has put us on the map for reality show wannabes.”

  “You’re the second person to bring up that show,” Jack acknowledged. “I don’t know anything about it.”

  Rick’s chuckle was dry. “So you don’t want to watch socialite women belittle one another and focus on the trivial things in life? I’m shocked.”

  “I’m a sports fan, and Charlie spends all her time watching old science fiction and fantasy shows,” Jack supplied. “I’ve watched old shows that I never knew existed because of her — like there’s this submarine show from the ’90s that has a talking dolphin and is all kinds of crazy that she makes me watch — but reality television … ,” he shook his head.

  I balked. “Seaquest was awesome. I can’t believe you’re badmouthing it.”

  He shot me a look. “I watch it because you like it. Don’t push it.”

  Rick snorted. “I’ve never heard of that show, but it sounds amusing. As for reality television, I’m a little more familiar with it than I would like. I have a twelve-year-old daughter who is obsessed. Trust me, these aren’t the sort of values I want her embracing. She has a mind of her own, though, and all the kids talk about this Southern Charm show and aspire to be like the characters.”

  “And you think that our dead women modeled their plan to snag a reality television show on this particular show,” Jack mused. “What can you tell me about the show?”

  “Not much. I find it tedious. I tried to watch with my daughter — her name is Ava — but she got annoyed with all my questions, so that died a quick death.

  “Basically it focuses on several people — I think there are, like, seven of them, both men and women — who run in socialite circles,” he continued. “They go out for dinner and snipe at each other and attend events and snipe at each other. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever watched.”

  “Sounds like it.” Jack was thoughtful as he tapped his bottom lip. “Do these people have much of a following in the area?”

  “Oh, they’re pretty much considered gods here. We don’t have many Hollywood starlets in the area. The Southern Charm cast is revered here.”

  “Which is why our dead girls wanted their own show so badly,” I mused. “They thought it would give them a leg up on society functions.”

  “And finding husbands,” Jack added. “Brock stressed that they were intense about not only finding mates, but rich ones. They wanted someone to fund a certain lifestyle and they clearly thought the combination of the show and their reputations would pave the way.”

  “I didn’t know about the show,” Rick said. “I’m glad I met with you because now I have a different angle to pursue. If I find out the other four victims had ties to this show that will be a definite place to focus our efforts ... although they could’ve been in contact with any charlatan south of the Mason Dixon Line who they thought might be able to get them a show.”

  “It doesn’t even have to be a real person,” Jack noted. “They might’ve thought they were dealing with a real individual, but it’s possible we’re dealing with a chameleon, someone who made up an identity to get close. Our victims might not have realized who they were dealing with.”

  “Rick nodded. “It’s a good lead, though. As for the window thing ... I can’t figure out why any of these women would purposely open a window to a stranger. I know you guys have a paranormal bent in your investigations. Do you have any ideas as to how our killer managed that?”

  “Technically we can’t even confirm we have a killer,” Jack pointed out. “I mean ... you don’t have a cause of death.”

  “No, but there’s no way eight healthy women just dropped dead in their beds during the overnight hours. It’s not possible.”

  “I agree. As for the paranormal world ... well ... I’m not the one you should talk to. I’m always the skeptic. My boss is the believer.”

  “And me,” I added.

  “And Charlie.” Jack shot me a fond smile. “She always believes.”

  “And what do you think it is?” Rick shifted his attention to me. “If you’re a believer, you must have a theory.”

  I was uncomfortable being put on the spot but saw no reason to lie. “My boss thinks it’s an incubus. That’s a demon that enthralls women and then kills them with sex. All our victims had sexual contact right before their deaths. That’s our hunch. We have no proof for or against it right now.”

  “I appreciate your candor.” Rick looked troubled. “I don’t think I can go to my boss and say a demon killed our victims. He’d probably have me committed.”

  “Probably,” Jack agreed. “Even if it is a demon, I’m guessing it has ties to the show those women wanted to do. If we find the common thread to that show, then we’ll have a culprit.”

  “That’s more than I had a few hours ago. I appreciate the information. I’ll check on the other victims and try to tie them to the four who volunteered at the aquarium. As soon as I have any concrete information, I’ll give you a call.”

  “We appreciate it,” Jack said. “We’ll keep digging, too.”

  Ten

  We returned to the villa once we’d finished with the detective. Jack had some computer work he wanted to do. I dropped off the basket so it wouldn’t be damaged and then moved out to the beach.

  The ghost was still there. I hadn’t expected her to disappear. What was really frustrating was she’d been joined by two others. Both had dark hair, were seemingly anchored somehow to their spots, floating on the water like ethereal buoys.

  It was disheartening.

  “I think I managed to get a line on a boat for tomorrow, Charlie,” Jack noted as he walked out the rear sliding glass doors, pulling up short when he realized I was sitting on the sand rather than in one of the chairs. “What are you doing?”

  I’d been resting outside for at least an hour, watching the ghosts. I’d lost track of time, forgotten that I wasn’t alone, and jolted at the sound of his voice. “Just watching.”

  His gaze was sharp when it pinned me. “Are you okay?” He abandoned all pretense of talking about work and dropped onto the sand next to me. His fingers were gentle when he tipped my chin back so he could study my eyes. “Do you feel sick?”

  The question caught me off guard. “Why would I feel sick?”

  “I don’t know. You’re really pale and a little sweaty.” He put the back of his hand to my forehead. “Anyone else who looked like you, I would assume they were sick.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to be touched by his concern or insulted. “I’m okay.”

  “Then why are your fingers shaking?” He gripped my hands and squeezed. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  There didn’t seem to be a way around that and I figured it was better to get it out of the way before the others returned. “There are two more ghosts out there now.”

  He stilled, his hands ceasing their fervent motions over my face. “Just like the first one?” he asked finally.

  I nodded. “They’re just floating on top of the water and staring at the shore.”

  He stroked his hand over my hair and stared at the water. He couldn’t see what I saw, but he obviously believed me because the concern etching into his face was profound. “Well, I have a call in to a guy about a boat. I’m hopeful it will work out. If not, we’ll have to check with other locals. I know you thought a kayak was a good idea, but that sounds like a lot of work and it’s not exactly easy on the ocean. A boat would be better.”

  I hadn’t considered that. “Whatever you think is best.” I rubbed my forehead and blew out a sigh. “Did you get anywhere with the reports?”

  “Not yet,” he replied. “I don’t have all of them. Rick forwarded what he has, but he’s obviously missing the ones from the outlying communities.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’ve already drafted formal requests for each department and sent them. I’m hoping they don’t
give me too much grief. If going through official routes doesn’t work I’ll have Chris contact Myron to go through unofficial routes. You’d be surprised how well Myron works when he gets to bend the rules.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it.” I drew my knees up and rested my cheek on them as I returned to the ghosts. “I’ve never seen anything like this, Jack. I know you probably think I’m a crackpot because you can’t see what I’m seeing, but ... it’s weird.”

  “Hey, I don’t think you’re a crackpot.” He was earnest as he got comfortable next to me, sliding his arm around my back and tucking me in at his side. “I have no doubt that you see what you claim to see. The difficulty is helping you figure out why.”

  “Yeah, well ... .” I rubbed my forehead. “We obviously can’t go out searching on a boat tonight. We’re going to lose the sun. Dwelling on that won’t do me any good.”

  “No, but you’re allowed to dwell on whatever you want to dwell on.” He kissed my temple and rested his forehead there for a moment.

  “This is a nice moment,” I murmured.

  “It is.”

  “I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

  “You rarely ruin things ... unless you put yourself in danger and try to give me an aneurysm.”

  I smiled at the lame joke. He deserved a reward for the attempt. “Thanks for your kind words.”

  “You’re welcome.” He poked my side and grinned before turning serious. “I booked us on the wine tour.”

  I turned, surprised. “We’re going on the wine tour?”

  “Our victims were using it as a way to pick up men. Maybe one of those men is our culprit. At the very least there’s a chance one of those men might know where to point us next.”

  “That’s true.” I dragged my fingers through my wind-swept hair. “I’ve never been on a wine cruise. Do I need to dress up? Are we acting like a couple? Does that mean we get to be romantic in public?”

  He laughed at the cascade of questions. “Shorts and a T-shirt are fine, but I’d bring your hoodie in case it gets cold as the sun sets. As for acting like a couple ... .”