Heather Graham - The Evil Inside

Madam Samantha smiled slowly. She pointed at Sam. “You. You, come with me.”

“Go get her, buddy,” Jackson whispered lightly to Sam. “I’ll talk to the charming clerk for a bit and see if I can’t still verify our tarot reader’s whereabouts, see if there was any way she might have slipped out during the murders.”

Sam followed the sultry “psychic” to the back. He was curious that she had decided to see him. She knew who he was, and she had to know he was trying to trip her up. What the hell was it that gave her so much confidence?

They went back to her curtained area. She took her seat behind her table with its crystal ball and tarot deck. She indicated the chair in front of the table.

“Getting tired of Red already?” she asked him.

“Maybe,” he said. “I’m just trying to figure you out.”

She lifted her hands and offered him one of her overtly sexual smiles. “What’s to figure out, Mr. Hall? I’m an open book. You want to accuse me of murder because it’s always the sexually unabashed and brassy woman who turns out to be the murderer. Come now, Mr. Hall, you’re a renowned attorney! You know the world doesn’t work that way. I was here, right here. I have a dozen witnesses to testify that I was working when the Smith family was killed. What? Do you think you’re in Salem and you can use spectral evidence? My astral self went out and committed murder while I was here, in the flesh, with a dozen clients?”

“No,” Sam said. “I believe that you didn’t kill the Smith family.”

“Then?”

“I want to know about your partnership with Andy Yates.”

She lowered her eyes and smiled slowly. “Hmm. Yes, well, someone dug deep to find out about that.”

“Business agreements like that are public record,” Sam reminded her.

“Yes, but…never mind. We weren’t trying to hide assets from the government or anything. Yates just wanted it all…well, he’s a councilman .”

Sam leaned forward. “You’re the talent, I take it.”

“I think you know that.”

“And he’s the money.”

“He does do well,” she said.

“But you both tried to buy the Lexington House. Wasn’t that a conflict of interest?”

She shrugged. “One of us might have gotten it.”

Sam frowned, leaning back. “So why would Councilman Yates loan you money? Were you having an affair with him?”

She smiled. “Well, you see, that’s none of your business.” She rose, walking around the table and leaning against it so that her legs were pressed against him. “I should just tell you to go to hell. I obviously am innocent of the Smith murders, and the police have a kid in custody who was covered in blood. But I do like you. I like your scent, and I like your size, and I even like your face, Mr. Hall. Still, I am getting bored of all this.” She leaned forward, hands on her knees, pressing her cleavage tight. “Next time you call me, it had better be to get laid, or I’m not going to talk to you again.”

She stood. “Now get out.”

Sam smiled and rose. “Madam Samantha, you’re right about one thing.”

“You really do want to get laid by someone who offers real excitement?” she asked.

“I’m a good attorney. I’ll find a way to bring you into the courtroom.”

“Really? But you don’t have a witness anymore, do you? Poor Mr. Sedge was found dead today in a pool of olive oil!”

“I can see your concern.”

“I’ve been here, working. You know that yourself.” Her anger had returned to her face with a vengeance.

“Before I was an attorney, in law school, I went and got my private investigator’s license, and I know a lot about breaking alibis,” he said pleasantly.

“Call me when you want to sleep with me, honey. You don’t even need to buy dinner,” she said, and winked.

“Oh, honestly, I don’t think that will be the case,” he said pleasantly, and he walked back out to the main shop room.

Jackson was leaning over the counter, smiling as he chatted with the clerk. He arched an eyebrow at Sam. Sam thanked the clerk and paid his bill for Madam Samantha’s time.

He and Jackson walked out of the shop.

“The place does have a back door,” Jackson informed him. “But Madam Samantha was fully booked with clients when the murders occurred at Lexington House.”

“And when Earnest Covington was killed?”

“Not quite as packed, but still here.”

As they stood on the street, he noted a couple walking by hand in hand. They were both dressed as vampires-she was beautiful, and he was handsome. They made a cute couple; the costumes were exactly alike, except that his had pants and hers had a long black skirt.

It struck him that many people loved masks and costumes because they were able to be different people by wearing them. And, in fact, people could be each other .

“Jackson, what if…what if there were two people involved?” Sam asked. “Such as two people who were having an affair? That would explain the costume. If the killer was seen in costume, and the plan was to commit several murders, it would be natural to suspect that it was the same person. A costume takes away an identity. That’s what we’ve been going on all along. But what if there were two people involved-maybe two people who were having an affair?”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” John Alden told Jenna. “I mean, I can’t believe it. You’re Sam’s friend, Jamie’s niece…and damned good-looking, but still, I can’t believe I’m doing this!” he said.

Jenna laughed. “You’re doing it because you’re a good officer of the law, John.”

“What do you think you’re going to get from the crime-scene photos? You’ve seen the blood spray, so you know the murders were vicious and horrible.”

Jenna nodded. “I know. I’ve never seen the victims in situ.”

“Tell Sam I don’t think I’m going to answer the phone anymore when he calls,” John said, sliding open a desk drawer.

“I will not, because it’s not true,” Jenna said.

John groaned. “I love Salem. I love my home. I love the Wiccans, the shops, the people who shake their heads at the Wiccans and still appreciate all the tourism they bring in. I love the historians, who also shake their heads at the Wiccans, except for those who are themselves Wiccans. I haven’t had my badge that long, and I’ve explained that the chief wants this investigated and properly so. I want this to be solved, and over.”

Jenna smiled at him. “See? And that’s why you’re helping me,” she assured him.

He laid out a number of folders, pulling the photos from them.

“I told you-they’re a gruesome sight.”

“Yes,” Jenna said. The photos depicted tremendous carnage. She had to study them carefully. And she thought that she found what she was looking for-even though she hadn’t actually known what she was looking for when she started out. But if all their suspects had an alibi for one of the murders, it seemed now that she might have discovered why.

“John, look at the ones of Peter Andres.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s not as much overkill.”

“What are you talking about? He’s hacked to pieces.”

“Hacked-just to make sure he’s dead. Now, look at the photos of Earnest Covington.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s- Well, he’s far worse.”

“The killer was escalating. Isn’t that the kind of thing you all preach about at the FBI? Or in your behavioral units?”

“Yes, sometimes. But I don’t think that it’s true in this case.”

“You’re losing me completely.”

“I think we’re looking at two different killers,” Jenna said.

John’s thick eyebrows shot up. “Two killers,” he repeated. He nodded grimly. “People thought they saw old man Smith when Peter Andres was killed, but eyewitness accounts are remarkably unreliable. Everyone knew that Smith hated Peter Andres-Andres wanted Malachi taken away from his parents. Andres believed that living with Abraham Smith was like living with an abusive parent, even if Smith didn’t technically beat the kid.”