Page 32 of Whispers at Dusk
“He will be all right. Yes, he knew the poor woman. And because of that, I believe he feels he owes it to her to be at her side,” Bisset said.
“All right,” Mason said. “I can understand that.”
“So, we’ve done all we can right now. And we’re grateful you’re taking precautions for Scott Harrington.”
“Yes, yes, of course. Now, it’s extremely late. And you’ve flown and worked for hours upon hours. Oh, Wilhelm let me know he delivered your bags to your lodgings. I think you’ll be happy. We’ve gotten you a townhome with two bedrooms and a kitchen, two short blocks from here, with parking, and we’ve arranged for a car tomorrow. An SUV for easy trips to the crime scenes.”
“Great,” Della said. “If you’ll point us in the right direction?”
Bisset gave them keys to the residence and walked outside with them, coming to the corner where he pointed up the street. “Two blocks. The little corner place with the charming balcony. We supplied some basics in the kitchen, water, coffee, tea, bread, and so on.”
“We’ll see you back here in the morning,” Mason told him. “Thank you.”
Bisset said good-night. The two of them started walking.
“Strange. I’m not even tired and we’ve been up forever.”
He nodded. “But I have a feeling we’ll hit our beds and be out in a matter of seconds.”
“Possibly. And...”
“And?”
“Well, I think we have to find our vampire, and you know the thing about vampires?”
“They roam at night,” Mason said. He shrugged. “What is your feeling on archaeology?”
“Love it! And history. You want to go to the dig in the morning?”
“Might as well. We’ll need the lights to go low to troll for our vampire. I know they’ll coordinate with us if they discover anything via the autopsy.” He shrugged. “She looked...the same as those women we saw in the crime scene photos. But if our vampire has followers, they will be obeying the proper commands. And there still might be some small difference that a medical examiner will find.”
“The dig. Are we going as tourists or as ourselves?”
“They may have a media person—someone who deals with the public. I think we should go as tourists or, better yet, as journalists. They’ll want to show us everything good then. I’ll shoot a text off to Angela. She’ll find a friend to say we’ve worked freelance for them in case someone chooses to check our credentials. Hey, we can write something up so we’re not complete liars.”
“Like an arrest report?”
He grinned. “Well, no matter what we say, we technically detain people—and Wilhelm arrests them. And nice. Here we are!” he said.
Della had just been following in step with him and might have been far more tired than she had imagined. They had walked the two blocks and were standing in front of a small but charming townhome. They headed up the walk to the two steps leading to the porch and front door. Mason had his key out and quickly turned it in the lock.
Lights had been left on for them on the porch and in the hallway, but Della hit the overhead so they could get a good look at their lodgings.
“It’s great,” Mason said, surveying the stairs that led up to the second floor, the parlor to the right and dining area to the left. “I take it the kitchen is through there and maybe a family room, entertainment area or even an office behind the parlor. I’ll go right, you go left.”
“Okay, but sleep is going to be up.”
“Yeah, but I like to know about windows, doors, exits—and entrances—when I’m someplace new,” Mason said.
“Good thought. You go right. I’ll go left.”
Della walked through the dining room, set with pleasant Victorian-era furniture. But behind the dining room, the kitchen was modern, offering a large refrigerator, oven and stove, microwave, center preparation board, and a small table.
And a back door. She checked it, glad the place wasn’t equipped withcodelocks.
She’d seen far too manysafehouses or rooms with codes that had been easily broken.
This back door had two solid bolts and a twist knob. She made sure that all were secured.
