Page 110 of Reading Between the Lines
“So how do we find out if they’re real cases?”
I slid him his phone. “You call Doyle and sweet talk your way into some information. If what you overheard at the station was true, then Port Hope police might have already contacted homicide.”
He sat straighter. “But I thought—”
“If the cases are active, information will be restricted. We don’t even know if all these bodies have been discovered… if they’re real at all. He’s our best bet. But, if the local cops haven’t brought in Toronto homicide, then it might get tricky.”
“Don’t they have to request assistance for murder investigations?”
“Not necessarily. Only if it gets too big to handle or turns into multiple deaths.”
Tallus scrolled through his contacts and found Doyle’s number. I wasn’t fond of asking for help, especially from Doyle, who seemed to take glee in his superior position, but finding out if cases matched these books was pivotal. We would either have a huge mess on our hands or find out Tallus’s theory was bogus and be back at square one.
Even if we discovered open cases that reflected these plots, it didn’t tell us who the culprit was. The book series was centered around unsolved murders. A serial killer at large. We’d eliminated the teens based on the publication timeline, and although the town drunk had points against him, we couldn’t exactly accuse him without some sort of proof.
Either way, when it came to Weston’s murder—and itwasmurder—the kidswereinvolved. I didn’t know how, but it was their short story, and it was one or more of their group who’d done the deed. That in itself seemed to suggest Tallus was on the right track. Were they mimicking Ambrose? Was Ambrose mentoring a successor?
“Hey, Doyle,” Tallus said with a face-splitting grin. “It’s your favorite records clerk, Tallus. I’m going to put you on speaker. Diem’s with me.”
He switched the call to speaker, and homicide detective Aslan Doyle’s curses filled the space between us. It was a good thing we were in a back part of the library, or I had a feeling we would be reprimanded for exceeding library volume limits.
“What’s happening? Why are you calling me? You are such a punk-ass little shit who can’t seem to remember he isn’t a detective.”
“Hey, Doyle,” I said. “You call my boyfriend a punk-ass little shit one more time, and we’re going to have a problem.”
Tallus puffed up with pride. “Hear that, Doyle?Boyfriend. We’re dating now, and even though it’s none of your business, I’m a PI in training. Only ten more hours of coursework left, and I’ll be a certified badass, not a punk ass, so fuck you.”
I groaned at the same time as Doyle.
“I should hang up.”
“Please don’t. I’m sorry. You’re my favorite detective of all time. Please help me.” Tallus pouted even though Doyle couldn’t see.
Doyle sighed. “What do you need? Because of course you need something. You only ever call me for favors. You know, one of these days, I’m going to cash in some IOUs.”
Tallus ignored Doyle’s irritation and barreled ahead. “Diem and I were called to investigate an accident in Port Hope. I sayaccidentloosely. The mother claims one thing. The police sayanother. We didn’t know if there was a case at first, but there is, and things have spiraled. The accident is looking more and more like murder by the minute, except the kid isn’t dead yet, at least, not technically.
“So, here’s the thing. We know we’re on the right trail because twice, someone has tried to kill us, and that doesn’t include the man with the rabid dog and a gun in the forest. I’m talking trees falling on our heads and flying projectiles that burst into flames. My glasses nearly melted off my face. They didn’t. I lost them in the kerfuffle, and they did melt, but… Never mind. Not relevant. The point is, I don’t have them, and it saddens Diem. They’re his favorite.
“So, as you can see, between trees and fires, we’re in danger, but we’re also pretty sure we’ve made a whooping discovery. Itwasmurder. Multiple murders. So many murders. We might be able to prove it if—”
“Krause?” Doyle’s raised voice cut Tallus off.
“Yeah.”
“Gag him and explain in concise English before I hang up. I’m busy.”
Tallus huffed and crossed his arms. “Rude. That was completely coherent. I was giving you a rounded picture.”
I held up a staying hand before he tore into Doyle and explained our theory, giving the detective a rundown of Weston’s trip into the river, the short story, the murder club, and what we’d discovered in the novels so far.
Doyle listened and blew out a puff of air when I finished. “That’s… Wow.”
“I was trying to tell you that,” Tallus said. “Did Port Hope police contact you?”
“Yeah, we got that call. Summerfield sent a team down to coordinate with their officers. Supposedly, they had three victims discovered in a twelve-month time frame, but advanceddecay in one of the bodies suggested they had died a long time before discovery.”
“The causes of death. Do they match our plotlines?” Tallus asked.
