He passed one of the old vaults and crawled high atop it to survey the area. A stone angel knelt in prayer to his left, an obelisk rose to his right. He hurried by them and clambered down an overgrown path to the rise of a second hill. For a moment, he paused. He could hear the tinkle of water and saw where a tree had broken several stones.
The day was darkening; it was going to rain.
The breeze quickened and Aidan felt an urge to hurry. He walked across the hill, looking around. So many graves. So many years of men living in this regionand dying here.
He noticed that a new flag marked the grave of a Revolutionary soldier. He passed a general on horsebacka tribute to the men of the valley who had fought in the Civil War.
He walked over graves and by monuments, past mausoleums and vaults, and then he peered into the distance.
And saw a man. Or the shape of a man. The area suddenly seemed very dark, even though it was almost seven-thirty and the sun had surely risen. The breeze was now a wind; the sky roiled.
Hey! he called. There was no answer.
Was he imagining the man? The figure leaned against a free-standing vault with great pillars before it.
The wind seemed to be against him as he hurried over. He was fighting to get there.
The man didnt disappear.
As he struggled forward, he paused at the sound of a dog barking. He turned.
A massive animal was racing toward the other figure, straining at his leash, which was held by a young woman in a black trench coat. He had the rather irrelevant thought that she resembled Cousin Itt from The Addams Family, since the wind had covered her face with her long brown hair. She and the dogthe wolfhound, obviouslywere threading their way through crooked tombstones and monuments listing at different angles.
He heard voices. The dog and the woman were being followed.
He ran forward, too. The dog was in a rushnot after him, but intent on something else. Or someone else.
The figure leaning by the vault. The young woman tripped on a broken headstone but found her footing.
He continued forward himself, realizing that dog and woman were headed for the manand at the rate the dog was going, they might well knock him over.
Rollo! Slow down! the young woman commanded.
Rollo passed Aidan and skidded to a halt within ten feet of the figure.
Running, Aidan barely managed to stop himself from toppling over onto the woman.
Then she came to a standstill so quickly that she lost her balance and fell back.
Into Aidans arms.
She gasped and he righted her.
She turned to apologize, pulling strands of hair away from her eyes. They were like crystals, gray-green and shimmering with flecks of both colors.
She didnt speak but her beautiful eyes widened, as if wondering what shed seen just before shed fallen backwardinto his arms.
Their eyes met briefly in that confusion.
Rollo, the giant wolfhound, kept barking.
And as they both turned to look at the manthe figure by the tomba horde of people came panting up behind them.
They were mostly men in uniform.
Aidan ignored them. So did the young woman and the dog.
They were still staring at the man whod been propped against the vault. He wore a long billowing coat and black boots, and might have been casually waiting there.
He just didnt have a head.
But something else about the scene didnt seem right.
Oh, my God! someone shrieked behind him.
Aidan noticed that the headless man stood as if he were about to enter the vaultor perhaps ask someone to join him.
It was staged. It was staged to be horrific.
One of the newcomers stopped about three feet from the young woman.
Well, I believe youve found the rest of Mr. Highsmith, Mo. He stopped speaking. Perhaps, under the circumstances, all their minds were working a little slowly. The man frowned, then gave Aidan a thorough look and said, This is a crime scene, sir. He paused, his expression grim. But...
Aidan was in a suit and trench coat, certainly not clothing worn by any of the others here. He guessedhopedthat he wore it with a certain authority.
Youre with the federal government?
Aidan nodded and presented his credentials. The older man studied him again. Took them long enough to get you here, he said. I called last night.
Sir, I got the word about an hour and a half ago, Aidan said.
The older man didnt offer his hand; he seemed to be an old-time lawman. Lieutenant Robert Purbeck, Agent Mahoney, he said. Glad you made it. Things like this dont happen in Tarrytown. Except in stories, of course.
Someone next to him was on a radio, telling someone else to get the M.E. and crime scene techs up the hill.
The wolfhound barked.
Shh, Rollo, the young woman said.
Agent Mahoney, meet my lead men on the caseDetectives Lee Van Camp and Jimmy Voorhaven. And he gestured to the young woman and the dog Maureen Deauville. Mo...we have a Fed here. Agent Mahoney of the FBI. Oh, and thats our wonder dog, Rollo.
Aidan nodded in acknowledgment. The other cops, a weary-looking lean guy and his younger partner, watched him curiously as they shook hands but they didnt appear to resent his presence.
God help me, Purbeck muttered. I hope thats the rest of Richard Highsmith. If not...
He didnt finish his sentence.
But Aidan knew what he meant.
Theyd found Richards head.
And if this wasnt the body that went with the head...
Well, there might be headless bodies and bodiless heads all over the Hudson Valley.
But, as he stood there, staring at the form, Aidan saw that the loose coat had fluttered openand he understood what was wrong with the scene.
And he knew their worst fears were realized.
Im sorry to say this, Aidan announced, but thats not Richard Highsmith.
What? Purbeck demanded. How the hell do you know that?
Take a closer look, Aidan said. Thats not a mans body. Its a womans.
What? Purbeck demanded again. Rollo found a body, a womans body? But...he was on Richard Highsmiths scent!
He sure as hell found something, Aidan said.
The young woman, Maureen Deauville, spoke quietly then.
Rollo is Well, hes really a sight hound, but She paused, glancing around. Hes never wrong. Richard Highsmith is nearby, she said. The, um, rest of him.
Aidan looked at her, then at the headless body by the tomb. Ms. Deauville seemed very certain. In a second, hed pulled on a pair of neoprene gloves.
Then he stepped forward.
There was an iron gate that guarded the tomb. Beyond that was some kind of heavy metal door.
Aidan pulled at the gate; it creaked, but gave.
He pushed at the iron door. It groaned on its hinges but opened.
Taking a penlight from his pocket, he flashed it over the inside of the vault. He saw a stone sarcophagus or tomb in the center.
And on the stone tomb, a body. In a suit.
This, I think, Aidan said, rigidly controlling the emotion that ripped through him, is Richard Highsmith.
And on the stone tomb, a body. In a suit.
This, I think, Aidan said, rigidly controlling the emotion that ripped through him, is Richard Highsmith.
2
Purbeck looked in and sighed. Back out, everyone but Mahoney, Van Camp and Voorhaven. I dont want evidence compromised. Get the M.E. and the crime scene people here, he ordered.
Aidan followed him, then carefully stepped through.
He threw the beam of his flashlight over the stone floor. No hope of prints, since the stone was bare of dust. He walked carefully toward the body, touching nothing, keeping his light trained on the corpse.
Aidan wasnt an M.E., but it seemed to him that the head had been cleanly severed with great strength and probably a single blow. Highsmith hadnt been killed in the tomb; there wasnt much blood. And, of course, Aidan couldnt know if hed been killed and then decapitatedor killed by decapitation. He found himself reminded of a history lesson: Queen Anne Boleyn asking Henry VIII for a headsman from France so her execution would be swift and clean.
Purbeck had come in behind him. He, too, touched nothing and studied the body.
As the two detectivesVan Camp and Voorhavenalso walked into the tomb, Aidan put down his flashlight and checked for Highsmiths wallet with gloved hands. He found it in his pocket, just as hed expected to.
Anything in there? Van Camp asked him.
Wallet, keys...
Carefully, Aidan checked Highsmiths other pocket. Lintand a matchbook. He held it up to Voorhavens flashlight glare.
From some place called Mystic Magic, he said.
Whoa, Van Camp muttered.
Its a new strip club down close to Irving, Voorhaven explained.
Doesnt sound like Richard Highsmith, Purbeck said.
Voorhaven produced an evidence bag, but Aidan briefly held on to the matchbook, flipping it open. He wasnt surprised to see that Highsmith had scribbled something in it. Lizzie grave, he read aloud.
Odd name for a stripper, Van Camp commented.
I doubt its a strippers name, Aidan told the others.
Then what? Van Camp asked.
Maybe it has to do with a dead woman named Lizzie. Lizzies grave, Aidan said impatiently, dropping the matchbook in the evidence bag.
Voorhaven snorted. Ah, hell! Do you know how many Lizzies have died and been buried here over the last several hundred years?
Purbeck shook his head. Let the M.E. and the crime scene techs in now, he said, turning to leave the vault. He paused at the door. We have another victim out thereand another head to find.
Aidan stayed behind for a minute, his gloved hand resting lightly on Richards arm. Rigor had come and gone; hed been dead awhile. Hed probably been killed soon after he disappeared.
Old friend, he murmured. Ill get whoever did this to you.
The young woman, Maureenor Mo Deauville, had not come in. She stood with her dog just outside the gates and Aidan felt her eyes on him, even though he was darkness and shadow.
He exited the tomb and approached Maureen just as Purbeck came up beside her. The place was now crawling with people. Voorhaven and Van Camp were by the corpse that had been so strategically arranged to look like a hostwelcoming them, inviting them to enter the tomb. They had to discover the identity of this woman. Her death was as great a crime, as great a tragedy, as Highsmiths.
I know Van Camp already mentioned this, but are we sure its not a name? Lizzie Grave? Purbeck asked Aidan. Not necessarily a strippers name. Maybe someone he met?
Aidan shook his head. Im almost certain its not, he said. I think he grabbed that matchbook wherever he wascouldve been anywhereand jotted down a note. I agree with you that its highly unlikely he was ever in that strip clubnot when he was here on an important speaking engagement. I think he just saw the matchbook somewhere. In a dressing room or at a lunch counter, maybe. Or someone gave it to him. And I think Lizzie grave means...Lizzies grave. But the first thing we need to do is discover the identity of our other victim.
God help us, Purbeck said. We started out looking for a body. Now...now, weve got to find another head. He turned to Mo Deauville. You and Rollo ready?
Aidan believed she was fighting her own mental battle, but she nodded. Yes, of course, she said. She brought the wolfhound to where the headless corpse leaned. The cops made way for her. The dog stood at a distance, but lifted his nose highalmost as if he were weighing the merits of a perfume.
Mo Deauville commanded the dog to sit, then approached the corpse and rested her hand gently on the womans shoulder.
As if she could...somehow feel something. A communicationfrom the corpse!
She lowered her head, then looked at Purbeck.
Were ready, she said.
She touched the dogs head. Aidan couldnt be sure, but he thought she was giving Rollo some kind of signal.
Well, of course she was. She was asking him to find...the rest of the woman.
No, it seemed to be more than that.
But she quickly set off, tightly clutching the dogs leash.
With the exception of the crime scene personnel and a few cops left standing guard, everyone trailed after her. They went up and down hills as they walked through one cemetery to get to the other, and eventually wound up on the street again.
Oh, no. Oh, God, no, Purbeck said.
Yes.
Across the street, at yet another headless horseman effigy, this one in front of a dry cleaning business, a crowd was gathering.
People werent alarmed; they seemed to be in awe.
There were pictures being taken.
The crowd wasnt even being particularly ghoulish. The horseman stood in the midst of a Halloween display of pumpkins, bats, black cats and flying witches.
Get the people away, Purbeck said quietly.
Rollo woofed.
Voorhaven and Van Camp went running across the street, along with half-a-dozen men in uniform.
Aidan glanced at Mo. She stood there, holding Rollos leash. She didnt turn away, although he could tell she wasnt going any closer. There was a stoic expression on her face, but sadness in her eyes.
Thank you, Aidan murmured to her. He crossed the street and hurried over to the display. The area was now being cleared of people.
He knew the crowd hadnt understood that the horseman with its witchs head wasnt part of this gruesome display. The head...was real.
Purbeck followed him. As Aidan stepped up onto a bale of hay beside a wire-and-plastic assembly, he heard the lieutenant mutter.
God, I pray this means both our bodies are complete!
Aidan thought they were. It was difficult to be sure, but he had to believe this was what they were looking for. The witchs wealth of long dark hair had been adorned with a black pointed hat. Van Camp stood on a second bale near him, silently inspecting the scene. He motioned to one of the photographers to capture the image from a number of different angles. When the photographer finished the initial shots, Aidan turned to Van Camp, who nodded. He removed the hat and passed it down to Jimmy Voorhaven. Jimmy bagged it, then he carefully brushed aside the tangle of dark hair.