Larry had ended their chat by pushing for more detail in respect of Carla’s serial killer theory. He was a lawyer after all and wanted to put the wheels in motion of a process that might end up with his client going free. Carla, however, was now convinced her colleague Lauren had been murdered and she was going to be very careful who she explained her theory to, especially given the uneasy feeling she could not shake off. She wondered if it was Franklin’s private detective she was seeing out of the corner of her eye and decided she would ask him when they met. If it was not him, then she might be in trouble, as it suggested danger closer to home. If Lauren’s notebook had been taken from her office, someone in the faculty must have a hand in its disappearance. Jack was a relative newcomer, although he would have been the first expert for Lauren to go to with her tentative conclusions. Max was another possibility. He had once been close to Lauren, but his interest in the daisy wheels when Carla had explained her theory was little more than academic interest. More likely was that Lauren had brought the notebook to her rendezvous with her killer.
Carla was convinced that Lauren hadn’t sensed danger, which suggested the person behind the killings was known to her and someone she considered essentially benign. Carla was confused by the quartz stones that had weighted Lauren in the river. Quartz, a glittery shiny mineral, had been used in house protection for centuries as some said the devil couldn’t bear to see its own reflection. She was also pretty sure the glittery ill-fitting shoes worn by Stella King had also been chosen by the killer for that reason. What Carla couldn’t understand was why a murderer would use these symbols unless he believed himself to be on the side of the angels. If he didn’t think he was the devil, who did he think was?
Carla agreed to see Larry again and at this meeting she would provide more information that could be used for the basis of an appeal. Michael Lines, in the meantime, would remain unaware that back in Jericho, two people were convinced of his innocence.
When Carla returned to college, a security guard waved her over and pointed to a woman sitting on a bench under a plaque listing distinguished patrons of the institution. To Carla’s eyes, she didn’t look like a Jericho student. She’d made an effort with her appearance, but her dress was cheap and ill-fitting. Students spent a fortune looking grungy.
‘Lady over there would like a word with you. I said you had a class at two, but she wanted to wait.’
Carla walked towards the girl. ‘I’m Professor James. Did you want to speak to me?’
The girl stood up and smoothed down her dress. ‘I’m Mandy. You came to the Lake House when Tiffany went missing.’
‘You work there?’ Carla shifted her bag and put out her hand.
‘Not any more. I’m moving on this week, but I wanted to see you before I leave town.’
‘You knew Tiffany?’
‘We shared a room when she first arrived as they were short of space. When a unit became available, she moved across the hallway, but we were close.’
Carla looked round, conscious of the lack of privacy. ‘Do you want to come to my office?’
Security let them into the building, giving her companion a visitor pass, and she hurried the girl along the corridor. The door to Jack’s office was open and he looked up at them briefly as they walked by.
‘Have a seat.’
Mandy appeared overawed by the setting. Carla would have preferred to take her to a coffee shop but, conscious of danger, was worried it was too conspicuous.
‘How did you find me?’
‘I asked Clyde, the manager. He was furious after your visit and wanted to know why you were involved. He looked you up on the internet and saw you were at the college. That made him even more mad.’
‘I really am Miss Popularity this week.’ Carla cast a look at the door, wondering how secure their conversation would be. She’d heard Jack shouting that time on the phone, but his words had been indistinct. ‘What did you want to tell me?’
‘Clyde was really upset about the fact that Tiffany’s killer was probably at the hotel sometime. He cornered me again, asking if I knew who Tiffany had been dating.’
‘And did you?’ Carla kept her voice casual. The girl looked ready to take flight at any moment and she wouldn’t be opening up to Baros anytime soon. This was the only chance she had to get any important information from her.
‘No, but I know she didn’t like him. That’s why she wanted to get away for a few days. He was creeping her out.’
‘Did she say how?’
‘She didn’t give any details, but I know it came after a visit to his house. I got the impression that something really scared her.’
‘She went to his house?’ Carla shifted in her seat, trying to calm her eagerness. ‘Did she give any clue where this was?’
Mandy shrugged. ‘In Jericho. He was definitely local.’
Carla groaned. ‘Can’t you be any more specific?’
‘I can’t. Sorry.’
Carla thought of her dinner date that evening. ‘Was he wealthy?’
‘I think so. He had a car but never wanted to pick her up from the Lake House. She used to hitch a lift downtown.’
‘But her purse and phone were still in her room. He must have picked her up the night she died.’
‘Maybe, but I don’t think anyone saw him.’
So Tiffany did have a secret life. Again, that closed-minded view that rootless people drift from one job to another. They still had emotions and passions and it took time to discover them – time that the detectives had refused to give the case. ‘How do you think they originally met?’
‘Plenty of people coming and going in the hotel. She could have met anyone.’
‘Do you have a lot of functions like the fundraiser I went to last week?’
‘All the time.’
Franklin took Carla to an upmarket Italian restaurant by the river. Carla’s spirits sank when she saw the subdued lighting and minimalist decor. She was sick of European restaurant food. She couldn’t understand why any of her dates couldn’t just take her for some clam chowder or fresh crab. She would have to ask Erin to drive her to the coast so she could indulge in her love of seafood. Men, she decided, were just too keen to impress her with their European credentials. Franklin had insisted on picking her up from Patricia’s house, although Carla would rather have driven herself. Patricia was out, so she left a detailed note of where she was going on the kitchen table, photographing it and sending the image on to Erin, who replied with a thumbs up.
If Franklin was the killer, she would be at risk. The daisy wheel had been closed but, until the motive behind the killings could be identified, there was always the possibility that a new hexafoil could be started. The danger was real and she would need to downplay her role in the investigation into Tiffany’s death and any other views she might have on the other deaths.
Franklin turned out to be a relaxed companion. He had none of Max’s high-handedness or Jack’s intensity. Despite his vigour, he looked tired and his complexion had the colour of grey clay. As she’d anticipated, he ordered for both of them, although at least he did ask if she liked fish before consulting the waiter on their daily catch.
‘Have you been to Italy?’ he asked her.
‘Of course. I went there on my honeymoon.’
Franklin frowned, concentrating on tasting the wine. ‘Bittersweet memories for you then.’
‘Not really. Italy has only happy associations for me. What about you?’ Carla was in no mood to be quizzed all evening. Franklin was a man who liked to control the flow of conversation, but his questions, although casually put, were scrutiny all the same.
‘Vacations only for me, too. It’s one of my favourite places.’
Carla looked at her overly fussy starter and thought of the trattoria by the sea where she and Dan had eaten squid ink risotto and quaffed cheap wine.
‘Have you ever been married?’
Franklin looked surprised at the question. ‘Briefly when I was in my early twenties. It only lasted a year. I don’t think my ex-wife had bargained for a workaholic husband. We’re still friends and she remarried shortly after our divorce.’
‘I believe you dated my colleague, Lauren.’
‘Lauren? We certainly dated, but it wasn’t serious. You heard what happened to her?’
Carla nodded. ‘Her things were still in the office when I moved in.’
‘You’re in her office? I guess it figures. The college has a reputation of moving on from trauma swiftly. It was a shock when I heard she’d died. She gave no indication of any mental anguish while we were together.’
‘She went in the river by Suncook Park, I believe.’
‘So I heard.’ Franklin leant back in his chair, putting down his fork. ‘Let’s change the subject, shall we? I was fond of Lauren.’
They paused while the waiter took away their plates. ‘Did you go to college here?’ she asked him.
He laughed. ‘Good guess, but I went to NYU. I was desperate to get away from this town and experience the city. I wanted to go west coast, I had my eye on UCLA, but there was no way my folks were going to agree to that. New York was the compromise.’
So, for all his status in Jericho society, he had at least experienced another world. ‘You studied architecture?’
He laughed. ‘Film studies. I know, but I had a blast. Then my father died and I returned to Jericho to look after the family construction business. Let’s just say I’m putting my creative flair into my designs.’
He’d given her the opening she’d been waiting for. ‘I went to one of your constructions a few weeks back. The mall named after you.’
‘Not my choice of name, I hasten to add.’ He shrugged as if he had no say in the matter. ‘It went to a poll in the local press and that one got the most votes.’
He hadn’t asked them to choose another entry though, thought Carla. She smiled. ‘It’s got an unusual pattern. Did you decide on it?’
‘Ultimately, although it went through various committees before landing on my desk. Do you like it?’
‘It feels very organic.’
‘Organic. That’s the right word. I liked the swirling feel to the pattern.’
It’s a hexafoil, she wanted to tell him, but the thought of Lauren’s body laden with the quartz stones in the river held her tongue.
‘What are your interests, Carla? I know that you’re an archaeologist, but that’s it. What’s your specialism?’
‘I’m interested in the dead, which probably sounds a bit self-evident for someone who digs up the past, but I’m interested in the archaeology of emotion. There’s a tendency for rationalism in my job, which I’m all in favour of, but I like to dig into people’s feelings – fear, love, anger – behind some of the decisions they made and how that might upend any orthodoxy that’s been adopted in academic studies.’
‘Can you give me an example?’
Carla picked up her glass of wine. ‘Sure. Take my colleague Jack Caron’s interest in ritual house protection, you know, dead cats in fireplaces, dolls stuffed into rafters.’ She kept her voice light. ‘For an archaeologist, the discovery of these artefacts are fascinating in themselves. It allows you to plot patterns of distribution, changes over time, the continuing importance of ancient metals such as iron as protection. What I’m interested in though is the emotion behind them. In New England, for example, an unfamiliar country might have contributed to feelings of alienage and loss among settlers. But other emotions might have been present. Religious extremism – the Pilgrim Fathers, after all, were fleeing persecution – might have encouraged these ritual practices, preachers reinforcing the sense of magic from the pulpit. Religion and folklore practice were closely entwined and constantly shifting.’
Franklin was staring at her. He had unusual mid-blue coloured eyes which he fixed on you as you were speaking. Women probably found it attractive, but the intensity of his gaze was difficult to meet and it had nothing to do with magnetism. Something she had said had struck a chord and the memory wasn’t welcome.
‘I don’t know much about religion,’ he said, finally. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘You don’t use them in your own buildings?’ She kept her tone light.
This amused him. Whatever she had said that he hadn’t liked, it wasn’t this. ‘No need for protective charms in my houses. I build them well enough.’