King started to say something but seemed to think better of it and hastily took a sip of his cocktail.
“What an incredibly interesting place,” said Michelle as she looked around at the built-in, worm-eaten wooden shelves stuffed with what looked to be ancient tomes.
Harry’s gaze followed hers around the library. “Of course it’s haunted, as it should be for a place that saw the light of the eighteenth century.”
“Haunted?” said Michelle.
“Oh, yes. I’ve seen numerous apparitions over the years. Several I consider to be regulars. Since my return here, I’ve felt a real duty to get to know them, considering I’ll be joining them in the not-all-too-distant future.”
“You’ve got a long time left, Harry,” commented King.
“What would we do without you?” said Michelle, tapping her whiskey glass against Harry’s tumbler of bourbon.
“Even before the other branch of the Lee family was building its fortress at Stratford Hall, my line was laying the brick and mortar for this.” Harry checked his pocket watch. “Calpurnia serves promptly at seven-thirty. That gives us a little time to talk before the meal, although I’m sure I can guess our dinner topic.”
“Calpurnia?” asked Michelle.
“Calpurnia is my cook and housekeeper; a delightful lady who’s been
with me for years. I discovered her when I was serving on the supreme court in Richmond, and she graciously agreed to return with me here. I’d be utterly lost without Calpurnia.”
He took a sip of his bourbon, set down his glass and put his hands together, his features now very serious.
“We must solve this thing, and soon, you know. It’s not like people are going to stop being killed simply because we wish it.”
“I know,” said King. He stood and faced them, his back to the fire. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought, having had not much else to do while recovering from that deep draft I took of carbon monoxide. Now, there’ve been eight deaths thus far.” He held up the fingers on one of his hands. “But I want to talk about only five, at least at first. And I want to begin with Rhonda Tyler.”
“The dancer,” said Harry.
“The prostitute.”
“You’re sure?” said Michelle.
“I checked with Lulu. Tyler was one of the ones who opted for the ‘extra pay’ structure.”
“What’s that?” asked Harry curiously.
“A little sideline of the Aphrodisiac; it’s since been shut down,” said King vaguely.
Harry nodded in a knowing way. “I always suspected that was happening. I mean, you can’t let men watch naked girls, ply them with alcohol and not expect some to want more than to merely play voyeur.”
“Exactly. So Rhonda was a prostitute. Was that why she was killed?”
Michelle ventured an answer. “Well, prostitutes are probably the number one victim pool of serial killers.”
“Right again. So are we simply dealing with an ‘ordinary’ serial killer who opted to start with this ‘classic’ victim pool, or is there something else going on?”
“What do you mean, Sean?” asked Harry.
“I mean, was Tyler a symbol or was her death more personal?”
“How can we answer that with the little we know?” said Michelle.
“Let me answer a question with a question. Could Bobby Battle have enjoyed the services of Rhonda Tyler? She was at the Aphrodisiac before Bobby had his stroke. He was known to frequent the place, although Lulu was pretty vague on the last time she’d seen him there.”
“I hadn’t considered that angle,” said Harry quietly. “But let’s say he did sleep with her. Why would that make her a target for our killer along with at least four other people who seem to have no connection?”
“What if some of the other victims did have connections to Battle?”