Taking her time to open her notebook and find a page, Jenna nodded. “Yes, and I’m aware we have someone in the lodge murdering people.” She gave him a hard stare. “I figure my investigation takes priority. You mentioned in your interview that you disliked Dakota Storm. Is that because she rejected your novel?”
“That’s Miss Storm.” Bradford’s lip curled at the corner. “Nobody gets to call her Dakota. She is above all us slush pile people, don’t you know?”
Bemused, Jenna glanced at Kane. “Slush pile people?” She leaned back. “What does that imply? Is that a derogatory word for the rejected?”
“The unsolicited manuscripts go into what they call a ‘slush pile,’ and sometimes, authors who’ve been in the pile actually get a contract, but usually by that time they’ve gotten themselves an agent or they’ve given up completely.” Bradford steepled his fingers. “Such is the life of an author. We’re only as good as the sales of the last book.”
“Where were you when the lights went out?” Kane hadn’t taken his eyes off Bradford.
“Locked in my room.” Bradford rolled his eyes. “Alone.” He sighed. “I was in the shower but I managed by my phone light to dry off and get into bed. I slept until the lights came on again, but I just turned them off and went back to sleep. These conventions are exhausting. I was resting in my room before. I broke my toe and only came out of the moon boot last week.”
“How well do you know Jedediah Longfellow and Kitty Pandora?” Kane raised one eyebrow.
“They autographed books for me but we didn’t say much to each other.” Bradford shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I knew them.”
Jenna checked her notes. “Would those books be their recent releases by any chance? Do you recall the titles?”
“Sure, that would be Nailed It and Frizzled.” Bradford’s lips turned up at the edges. “I guess now as both are autographed, they’ll be worth more seeing both authors are dead. I’ll be sure to wrap them in plastic.”
“What about Paul Tate?” Kane looked disinterested. “Know him?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Bradford’s gaze slid across to where Emily was sitting and then moved back to Kane. “What does he write?”
Jenna ignored him. “Just one more thing. Do you own a laser pointer?”
“Yeah, but I don’t have it with me. Do you need to borrow one?” Bradford looked amused. “Most of the people on the panels have them. I’d speak to them if you need one.”
“Okay, Mr. Bradford, we’ve held you up long enough.” She stood. “Thank you for coming by.” She nodded to Rio, who came over and ushered Bradford to the elevator.
After waiting for Rio to return, she looked at Kane. “Get anything?”
“Yeah, he has an underlying resentment. He steepled his fingers, which is something a person does if they believe they are superior and have the upper hand.” Kane rolled his shoulders. “He looked straight at Em when you mentioned Paul Tate.”
“He doesn’t have an alibi for any of the TODs, same as Grayson.” Rio shrugged. “Both seem suspicious to me, but Bradford more so. He might have tipped his hand when he looked at Em. Do you think he might be Paul Tate? He’d be the right age.”
Jenna chewed on her pen and, staring into space, gathered her thoughts. “All the male suspects are around thirty but I’m not discounting these murders could’ve been committed by a woman. None of them took great strength—the victims died where they lay. They’re spiteful kills and, trust me, a woman getting even wouldn’t hold back. The trouble with this theory is how would she have Diana Tate’s earrings in her possession from twenty years ago? Paul had no sisters or aunts and she’d be too old to be his child. I’ll talk to Parker Rain after lunch, but the chances of the killer being female is remote.” She sighed. “I’m ready to eat as soon as I’ve updated the files.”
“I’ll help.” Rio sat down at the table.
“As there’s nothing left to do here. When you’re done, I figure we grab Julie and head down to lunch together.” Kane pushed to his feet and pulled on a thick woolen cap with the Black Rock Falls Sheriff’s Office logo on the front. “But first, I’m going to walk Duke. When I have him settled, I’ll go find Julie. How about I meet you outside the Roasting Hog? We haven’t tried that place yet.”
“Sure.” Jenna stared at him. “Don’t let Julie out of your sight.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Kane touched his hat and headed out the door.
Running a hand through her hair, Jenna caught Rio’s strained expression. She cleared her throat. “Don’t even think about it.” She gave him a sideways glance. “It’s taken me years to stop Kane and Rowley from calling me ma’am. He’s just doing it to annoy me.” She let out a long sigh. “It makes me feel like Whistler’s Mother.”
Forty
Cold still lingers in my hands and feet, but the scent of blood has regrettably gone from my nostrils and is replaced with the aroma of gastronomical delights as I line up to enter the Roasting Hog Restaurant for lunch. My heart still races, the effort of dismembering a person harder than I imagined. Even frozen flesh caught in the blade and the kickback when I cut through bone was nothing like sawing through a tree branch. I’m glad my plan was well executed. I chuckle to myself for making a play on words.
The hole in the snow I’d dug made a perfect workplace and, once I’d removed the limbs, I’d covered everything in snow ready for retrieval later. I also used snow to wipe down the chainsaw and then took my time sawing up fallen logs to remove the grease before returning it to the shed. The old man I’d disabled earlier, still lay there, out cold but breathing and the small heater he kept inside his shed would keep him from freezing to death. I had no need to kill him and soon he’d regain consciousness believing he’d had a fall. The bruise on his head from where he hit the floor will convince him.
I still have plans for Riggs. I must admit I gave him the best experience of them all. I had to because he did show interest in me toward the end. Pity the die was cast or I may have forgiven him, but it’s not my place to forgive, and when I decide on a path, I never take a step back. Not as a kid, not now. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when I held up one of his feet and then the other. Did he know he was living a scene from the novel he crowed about and went the extra mile to promote for the best deal? Did he understand why he must die? You see, the story had a major flaw. The author concentrated on the cop’s angle the entire story, and I couldn’t believe the killer’s enjoyment wasn’t even a consideration. To me, that makes a boring crime story, and it only came close to the truth when the cop had to face down the psychopath. Now that part excited me.
I listen with interest to the announcements. They mention the times of the afternoon sessions and the closure of the emergency exit door for smokers. My fingers close around the passkey in my pocket. I don’t need the door open any longer. When everyone is asleep, I’ll be on the move again, setting up a wonderful surprise. I must finish the story, and then take time to indulge myself in a fantasy that haunts my dreams. The cravings are becoming overpowering, but I smile as I’m ushered to a seat. I join a group of people from my critique group. They understand me and, apart from Jed, not one of them made my list. This alone proves I can control my urges, as most like me would kill them all and this alone makes me special. My gaze scans the room and rests on a blonde head. My hand trembles as her long red nails comb through her white-blonde glossy hair. She will be my ultimate reward and I must concentrate hard on keeping control, but seeing her so close makes my heart race. Right now, nothing else matters but Julie.
Forty-One