Page 67 of All You Want
“No one’s going anywhere with their bloody shoes. I want everyone’s phone and shoes deposited in evidence bags, so stay where you are.”
“I can help, Sheriff. I’m Neil Thompson, the concierge for Harrowing Haunts.” A middle-aged man steps forward. He’s still dressed in his old-fashioned Victorian butler’s uniform.
“Great. Line them up, and give me their names and room numbers.” I speak into my shoulder mic, hoping Shane is within range. “Donnelly. I need tags and evidence bags.”
“On my way with the deputies,” he says. “I put Corny at the parking lot to make sure none of the barflies trespass.”
“Good, meet you in the back. There’s a body. Is the ambulance on the way?”
“It’s quite a drive from County Line, but they’ve been dispatched,” he replies. “Medical examiner’s going to take longer. Coming from the valley. Looks like we’ll have to do the preliminary evidence.”
“No rigor mortis yet. I put the time of death between eleven thirty and just before one, when I got the call.”
“How do you know the vic wasn’t killed after you got the call? You’d have to end the window at the time you arrived at the crime scene.”
Shane climbs up the steps to the loading dock with Dillon, Al, Justin, and Randy trailing.
“Sorry, boss, I couldn’t get ahold of Walt and Donnie.” Shane gestures to the four men. “Left Corny and Johnson out front.”
“Did they give statements already?” I ask to clear them.
“You saw your buds at the jailhouse,” Shane says. “They say they just made the fireworks show, and then a bunch of them went to the Sixty Miners. You ought to ask Paul.”
I make a note of the deputy’s appearance. The three I had at the holding cell are disheveled with dirty hands and messy hair. Randy’s the only one who looks clean—maybe too clean, like he washed his hands and face recently or he ditched a heavily soiled costume and gloves.
““I’ll take Paul’s statement after we’re done here. Where’s my brother Chad?”
“Chad went back to the ranch,” Molly pipes in.
“What time did he leave? Was he alone?”
“He left early. He was with a bunch of witches,” Molly says. “And other creatures of the female persuasion.”
“Yeah, too many witches tonight,” someone comments. “Ding dong, the witch is dead.”
“Where’s Evan?”
“I was with him.” Molly sounds like she’s bragging, except I notice she didn’t give me a time window. “We retired to his room after the fireworks.”
“Did anyone see you?” I don’t believe alibis when they’re volunteered so freely.
“We were across the hall from the drunk tank gang.” She points at Al, Dillon, and Justin.
“Not if they were at the Sixty Miners,” I reply. “How about you tell me who you saw.”
“It’s hard to tell with everyone changing out their costumes.” She gives each deputy a flippant glance. “I may have seen one or two of them. They all look alike.”
Justin gives her a hard stare, and Dillon smirks as if he’s about to say something. Al studiously stares at nothing in particular.
“Shut up, Molly,” Randy, her half-brother, says. “This is a serious inquiry.”
“And I’m serious. I saw them, and they saw me,” Molly persists. “Tell him, boys. You saw me with Evan.”
“How do we know he didn’t go out later?” Justin’s the only one who takes her bait. The guy might be book smart, but he has no common sense. “Where is he anyway?”
“He stayed in his room,” Molly says easily. “I tired him out.”
Several men guffaw, and I decide to ignore her innuendo. I put on a commanding tone. “Deputies, collect shoes and phones, then take everyone into the dining room for questioning. Neil, I want the footage of the security cameras. Shane, work with the medical examiner and take pictures of the crime scene.”
