Page 66 of Whispers at Dusk
Bisset listened another few minutes, thanked Wilhelm, and then started to end the call.
“Wait,” Mason said, reaching for Bisset’s phone.
The Frenchman hiked a brow, curious, but handed his phone over.
“Hey, it’s Mason,” he told Wilhelm. “He’s gone, right? You saw the pictures Angela sent, and saw what we saw—that good old Sven the Norwegian bartender was really a man named Stephan Dante?”
“Oh, yeah, I saw it. And I headed right over to Bruger’s. Sven never quit, he just never appeared for his last shift.”
“Well, he’s right for what we’ve determined. Guy could have been a football hero—well-built, great smile, easygoing...people person. In all the wrong ways, so it seems.”
“I’m trying to trace his movements from here,” Wilhelm told him.
“Great. Thank you. I’d also like you to do something else. I think it’s going to be important for you to interview Tomaso and Maryanne again. It’s very important they know it was their greatMasterwho handed them over to the authorities. They might know something they don’t know that they know. And if they know they were betrayed by the person who put them in their situation, they just might come up with something else.”
“I’ll get on it,” Wilhelm promised them. “And... Well, I’ll be here, but, please—”
“We will keep you in the loop,” Mason promised.
“Be careful,” Wilhelm warned.
“We will. Just another easy night,” Mason said wryly, glancing at Della. “You, too.”
“He’s out there. He’s out there somewhere,” Wilhelm said. “And the thing is... Well, here I’ll be trying to question two brainwashed idiots. I’m afraid the real deal of a monster is going to be a hell of a lot smarter and more dangerous.”
“Forewarned and forearmed,” Mason replied. “Thanks.” He handed the phone back to Bisset. “I want to get to that Euro-American pub,” he said to Robertson, “but I want to meet your friend with the movie production crew.”
“Tonight?” Robertson asked. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The detective excused himself and made the call, spoke quietly, and listened. Then he hung up and nodded to the group around them.
“Frasier will meet us tonight,” he said. “I told him we’d explain in greater detail when we saw him, but that we need help.” He shrugged. “Needing help sounds a whole lot better than trying to tell a producer we think he may have hired a homicidal madman.”
“Agreed,” Adam said. “So—”
“He’s taken a rental house just a few blocks over. They’ve been filming in the mountains and at Ring of Brodgar and in the house he’s rented. I can take a few of you over. Though—”
Bisset cut in. “I know your concern. We don’t want to overwhelm the man or send out any signals when not necessary. I say Detectives Taylor and Lapierre and I head to that pub. You can find us there when you’ve gotten whatever you can from the producer.”
“I could use a good pint!” Edmund said.
“You Englishmen and your beer.” Lapierre smiled.
“They most likely have a wine selection,” Edmund offered.
Lapierre grinned. “I was thinking of a dirty martini.”
They all managed to smile and left the hotel, going in their different directions.
The walk was pleasant. The air was brisk but seemed exceptionally clean. They passed others out for the evening, most laughing and at ease, a few speaking nervously, warning each other not to be apart.
There was a vampire plaguing the city.
There was crime scene tape up on the old building that was Frasier MacLean’s “Lochlean Films” home and sometimes work while he was filming in Orkney.
“The tape is for filming, not real, but Frasier likes to keep it up. You get a fair amount of rather bizarre people wanting in on any kind of filming,” Robertson told them.
“And it’s legal?”
