Page 24 of Whispers at Dusk
“Back to you later,” she promised.
“Thank you again.”
Mason ended the call, reflecting on Angela Hawkins Crow, Jackson Crow, Adam, and the Krewe of Hunters.
It was good to be where he was. Della was a charming human being—something that surely helped when they needed assistance from others. She was gifted at her ability to manipulate a situation. And after his phone call, he was glad to realize the Krewe had faith in their agents, and there was no argument with agutfeeling.
He returned to the others and reported on what Angela had told them.
“I’ll speak with her myself,” François Bisset said seriously. “You are field agents—I’m Interpol, here to facilitate whatever you need. I can keep the communication chain going while you work the streets.”
“All right, then,” Mason said. “So, Wilhelm, check at the morgue, please—”
“It has gotten late. The doctor won’t start on the autopsy until the morning.”
“Right, but please see if anything in the preliminary report positively identifies the same killer—or suggests more than one man is at work.” He looked at Wilhelm. “Detective,” he said, addressing Wilhelm, “you knew her.”
“Ingrid,” Wilhelm said quietly. “Ingrid McDonald, father a Scot, mom from Trondheim, good people, and not in the country right now, but...”
“Can you find a way to locate them?” Mason asked. “Before any information gets out. We don’t want them seeing information about their daughter’s murder on a newscast.”
“I’ll find them,” Wilhelm promised. “I advised her superior already, so yes, I must reach her family.”
“Then, I think you’d be best at looking over her last cases, finding out if she was on to the killer in any way, if she left any information...or if she kept a diary and just met a charming man at a bar and was looking forward to seeing him again.”
“Yes,” Wilhelm said again. Angrily, he shook his head. “Now they strike at the heart of us! He, they—the killer or killers—we must end this reign of ridiculous mythic terror.”
“And we will,” Della promised him gently. “We have a solid team here—we will discover this killer, whether he is truly crazy or leading a team for an agenda.”
“I think we should hit the streets,” Edmund said, nodding toward Lapierre.
“Agreed,” Lapierre said.
“Exactly what I was about to ask you to do,” Mason said. “Cruise the area, especially looking into coffee shops, eateries, and so on. Keep eyes and ears open for anything you might see or hear.”
Both men nodded. “Where will you be headed?” Wilhelm asked him.
“A bar,” Mason said.
They all stared back at him—including Della—and he grimaced, nodding her way. “Angela had a report on someone speaking wildly at a place called Brager’s—”
“Great sports bar,” Wilhelm said knowingly. “And here I was thinking Americans couldn’t stomach a few hours without a drink!”
“We’re going to go and see about a Bloody Mary–drinking fellow who talks about the drink not being as good as the real thing,” Mason said.
“You’re going to go to a bar and not drink?” Lapierre asked politely.
“Let me suggest a Lervig—there are several different varieties—and if you stick with beer or ale, you can have one or two and not want to belt your wild Bloody Mary–drinking suspect,” Wilhelm said. “If you want to get this man talking, I believe you’ll want to blend in.”
“Good point, well-taken,” Della assured him. “It will be great to sample a Norwegian beer.”
Wilhelm grinned at her. “Partial to Heinekens myself,” he said.
“Whatever!” she teased in turn, smiling.
“So, let’s move,” Mason said.
“One second,s’il vous plait!” François Bisset said. “That desk—anyone claim it yet?”
