Carla was fascinated by the preparations for Halloween. Growing up in England, the celebration had been a muted affair. Her mother would fill a washing-up tub with water and apples and she and her brother would take turns catching them with their mouths. Over the years, Halloween had become more of an occasion and she’d kept a box of sweets in her ground-floor flat to give to anyone who might ring her doorbell. In the US, it was something else. She overheard her students deciding on their costumes and film themes were clearly a thing. Most of the references went over her head, but the ghostly twins from The Shining had been chosen by a pair of fair-haired friends who could have passed for sisters.
She let her late afternoon class out early. They were itching to get going and their enthusiasm rubbed off on her. She was going to spend the evening trying to gather her thoughts on the dead women and come up with a plan on how to convince both Viv Kantz and Larry Foster that her hunch was correct. She’d not heard from the lieutenant since the confrontation in the car park and Albert was keeping out of her way. However, she’d detected a thawing in Perez’s attitude towards her and the young detective was going to be her way into the police department once she’d gathered as much evidence as possible. Erin, however, had other plans and invited her for dinner.
‘Ethan’s got his friends over and they’ll be going up and down the street dressed – wait for it – as characters from Scooby Doo. I swear they’re regressing to childhood. Where’s all this put away childish things?’
‘Sounds pretty harmless. Where do I come in? I’m really not in the mood for dressing up.’
‘God forbid. They don’t need a chaperone. Just come over and bring a bottle of wine. You can keep me company. I won’t get any peace until I know he’s safely home.’
Given alcohol was on the menu, Carla decided to walk to Erin’s. Although cold, the night was full of anticipation as excited kindergarten children began knocking on doors before the dark had even settled. Patricia was ready for them with shop-bought sweets and small cupcakes and Carla helped answer the door until it was time to leave. As she stepped out into the street, she saw that the excitement of the younger children had given way to a more boisterous atmosphere as cute costumes made way for the glitter and gore. There was smoke in the air from fires burning in hearths and Carla’s way was lit with lights shining in doorways. She’d planned a route that would keep her to the main streets, and she joined a group of ten-year-olds covered in masses of fake blood. Two boys at the back were counting their haul and fighting over who would get the giant Hershey’s bar. Her phone rang in her bag and Erin’s voice came down the line.
‘I’ve been thinking. You won’t get a cab easily this evening. How about I come by and pick you up. It’s no trouble.’
‘No need. I’m walking.’
Erin sucked in her breath. ‘You are kidding me. It’s about four miles. Stay where you are; I’m coming to get you.’
‘Erin, I’m doing fine. The walk will do me good. I’m following kids down the street. Everyone is out and I’m perfectly safe.’
‘Well, keep to the main roads for God’s sake.’
Carla carried on, taking a left turn down a road leading to a stretch of the river she hadn’t seen before. The water was faster here. If Lauren had decided to end her life, her body, even with the stones, would have been carried downstream and out of Jericho. It was the place someone determined to end their life would choose rather than Suncook. Despite Viv’s anger, the police had not done their jobs properly that night. Carla suspected once suicide was seen as a most likely explanation, perceptions of motivation, location and choice of method allowed a narrative to be constructed far from the truth. It had nearly happened with Iris Chan too until a witness had come forward. More incompetence.
Carla carried on upstream, glad that the path was busy. The wealthy homes next to the river were being made for by the trick or treaters – richer pickings for the revellers. She passed the spot in the river that Lauren had entered and Suncook Park where the worker’s bottle had rolled onto the grass. The space was illuminated in the dark and showed the rose beds pathetic in their autumn sparseness with just the stems and the iron stakes used to support the plans during the summer showing. Now that foliage had been dropped, Carla could see the pattern made by the circular beds formed five daisy wheels. Shit.
She stopped, trying to recall her conversation with the gardener. He’d mentioned Franklin but not whether his boss had ever paid the park a visit, let alone overseen the design of the rose beds. However, the pattern was in front of her eyes. She wobbled up the incline and took a photo of one of the rose beds. Franklin had shown little interest in the park when Carla had mentioned it. She would call him again, if she could get past his damn secretary, and ask him outright who had designed the beds. If he began hedging with her, she would know he himself had something to hide.
Carla crossed the bridge and walked down the steps to the path on the other side of the river. Erin lived a couple of streets behind the waterfront row of restaurants, a prime real estate plot. Downtown had a busier air but fewer revellers. Parents were probably escaping from the excitement, taking the opportunity to have a bite to eat. As Carla turned down a passageway, the air stilled and the sound of traffic and people chatting dialled down to nothing. She was minutes from Erin’s house and she sped up, conscious of the deserted passage lined by a high wooden fence. Calm down, she told herself. Jericho was safe and it was locations that were important to the killer. She stepped with relief into the street-lit road, blinking as a car sped past, its headlights dazzling her.
As she was congratulating herself on making it up the passage, a hand grasped her head, pulling her back into the dark. She twisted, grabbing her attacker’s shirt, which tore away from her grip. She saw he was wearing a mask, a grotesque crone’s face made up of wrinkles and warts. A cheap party trick designed to instil fear. She tried to tear it off, kicking at the man while pushing her hand against his neck. She dimly recognised his scent and struggled to articulate a name that she could use to fight back. As his grip shifted, she managed to get her mouth around his bare hands and she sank her teeth into flesh. He yelped in pain and let go for an instant. It was enough leverage to free herself; she stumbled away into the path of a car, landing with a thud on its bonnet.
‘Who did you tell you were coming to Halloween at mine?’ Erin placed a damp face cloth on the swelling emerging on Carla’s forehead.
‘No one. I haven’t seen anyone to speak to since you invited me. Only Patricia knew I was going out, but I didn’t tell her where.’
‘Then he must have followed you from Hoyt Street. Did you notice anyone behind you?’
‘The streets are packed. I walked behind a few groups who would peel off when they came to a house. On the path by the river, it was quieter, but there were still people.’
‘You say he was wearing a costume.’
‘He was all in black with a warty mask with the image of a witch or scary old woman, the type you might meet in the woods. The thing is, when I entered the passage, I’m sure no one was behind me.’
‘Then they must have sped up when they realised the alley was clear. Nice that he now has an imprint of your teeth. If I were you, I’d try to have a little chat with Franklin tomorrow and take a look at his hand.’
‘I’ll be doing that along with a few other suspects.’ Now her terror had subsided, Carla wanted to pay a visit to each of the men who knew about her daisy wheel theory and see who was hiding their hands. What the assault had left her with was the conviction she knew her attacker, although she still couldn’t identify the smell.
‘How do you feel?’ asked Erin.
‘Terrible.’
‘I’ve called the cops. Someone will take a statement, although I guess your attacker isn’t walking the streets with his mask on any longer.’
‘Oh, God. I hope it’s not Baros.’
‘Don’t worry. It’ll be common patrol who deals with this kind of thing.’
Erin was wrong. When the doorbell rang, Baros and Perez stood on the doorstep looking grim. Baros stepped over the threshold before his partner.
‘We heard the call over the radio and thought we’d pick it up. When we heard the address, we thought it was you, doc.’
He didn’t look overly sorry that the victim was, in fact, Carla. She’d already turned away an ambulance. Her new post gave her medical insurance, but she wasn’t sure of the procedures around hospital admission and how much she’d have to pay herself. Other than a banging head and an attack of the shivers, she was more or less unharmed.
‘So, what happened?’ asked Baros, settling himself on Erin’s sofa. His eyes were on the bottle of red Carla had been carrying in her shoulder bag. Perhaps he’d ask her to whip out her ID so she could prove she was over twenty-one.
‘I was grabbed outside the passageway that leads onto this road. The thing is, I’m sure I know my attacker,’ she said.
Baros flicked a glance at Perez. ‘Go on.’
‘When he grabbed me, I recognised his smell. I know it sounds ridiculous, but there was a scent around him I recognised.’
‘Aftershave.’
‘I’m not sure it’s that. Maybe deodorant or soap. I can’t say for sure. He was sweating, probably with adrenaline, and I could smell that too, but there was a familiarity to his scent that I’m trying to place. I think I might have smelt it in my office too.’
‘If it’s deodorant or soap, it’s probably shared by many men.’ Perez jotted something into her notepad. ‘What about his height or build? These are harder to hide.’
‘He was bigger than me.’
Baros cast a dismissive glance at Carla. ‘I’m going for opportunist. Woman walking down a dark alley, a reveller takes a chance. Could be a teenager.’
‘Come on.’ Erin had heard enough. ‘Halloween revelries are usually safe enough. Someone has targeted Carla, possibly because of her looking into the deaths of those women.’
Baros was dismissive. ‘Doesn’t sound very likely.’
‘I think you should listen to her.’ Perez’s voice was unnaturally calm and Baros shot her a look.
‘What’s the matter with you? You got yourself a new pal, Perez?’
‘The prof has got a theory about daisy wheels and I think you should listen.’
‘You want to be back in vice or, worse, in uniform marshalling traffic? Didn’t you hear the lieutenant? No witch bottles, no daisy wheels – we play this by the book. This lady here is persona non grata.’
Perez folded her arms. ‘You saw the pattern on the glass at Miss Sherwood’s property. There was a similar mark on the paving slabs near the generator. The place is full of graffiti, but this flower was different because it was made with red chalk.’
‘Is this what you meant when we met at Jessica’s house?’ Carla held her aching head. ‘More daisy wheels.’
‘It was graffiti,’ snorted Baros. ‘Anyway, I didn’t see it.’
‘There was a photo. It’s been wiped from the file.’
Carla stared at Perez. ‘Wiped? Who by?’
Perez looked at Baros. ‘I don’t know.’
Baros stood. ‘The boss says there’s no connection and I’m with her.’
‘If the mark was made of chalk, it can’t have been there very long. Chalk would have been washed away in the rains. It must have been scored onto the paving around the time of Tiffany’s death.’ Carla pointed to her aching head. ‘I’ve made enough ripples over the last few days and your killer has got wind of my theory.’
‘I don’t think—’ Baros’s radio crackled to life. ‘We’ve got to go. Can you come down to the station tomorrow to make a statement? We’ll put out a description of your attacker, but don’t hold your breath.’
Perez put her notebook away, her eyes on Carla. ‘You take care, prof. Maybe stay the night with your friend.’
‘Oh.’ Baros stopped. ‘And I need to pay you a visit and pick up all your notes. Order from the lieutenant. I’ll be there in the morning.’
‘Well,’ said Erin after they’d gone. ‘You’ve got him riled. You know, I think I’m going to call Ethan and ask him to come home. I don’t feel happy about him out there with a killer loose.’