Krewe of Hunters The Unseen (28 page)

“Ten calls already. Some are crackpots, telling me they envision the girls on a lily pad or some such thing, but I’ve got everything down. I’m assuming you want even the crackpots.”

Logan thanked him. Kelsey saw that it was just eight when they entered the room, and so far, they were the only ones there. Logan got on the phone, returning the calls they’d received, while Kelsey studied the information they had on the unidentified women she’d given
J
names.

She brought out the files she’d been working with and read them through.

“Jane Doe, strangled, discovered by a rock pile, semi-hidden, near a pond in a public park. Jenny Doe, found in a trash dump, stabbed to death. Judy Doe, strangled, again found in a public park. Jodie Doe, dragged out of the river, drowned. Julie Doe—most recent victim until Vanessa Johnston, dead about a month—strangled and left in a pond, discovered by divers. Josie Doe, found in a compost heap, stabbed to death.”

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She compared the names to Jane’s sketches and notes, and started adding her own comments.

Josie Doe was actually Sherry H-something, according to Sandy and Ricky. And the girl Ricky had seen at the Congregational church had been their drowning victim, Jodie Doe.

Logan covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “This caller believes that our Jane Doe is his niece, Linsey Applewood.

She’s from New Orleans, and no one’s heard from her since she disappeared out of her uptown apartment.” Kelsey nodded and included that information. Logan asked the man questions, making notes as he did, then took another call. He was quiet, listening.

He hung up and looked over at her. “That was Reverend Milton from the Congregational church. Ricky was right.

She was there. She and her husband didn’t stay long, because he didn’t think the church focused enough on family issues. That they were too permissive and not following the dictates of the Bible.” He hesitated. “Reverend Milton paid a courtesy call on the family, and the husband said his wife had left him and moved back to New Mexico.”

“I guess she didn’t move back.”

Logan looked at her a moment longer. “The husband’s an actor,” he said. “And we met him yesterday.” IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012

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The fact that they knew that one of their victims had been married and never reported missing because she’d supposedly left her husband and moved back home did not make that husband guilty of murder. It did, however, make him a “person of interest.”

Jackson accompanied Logan when he went to pay a call on the actor, Ned Bixby, who’d been portraying one of Santa Anna’s men in the documentary.

He knew that he wished the “person of interest” had been Jeff Chasson, and he knew, too, that was wrong.

He just didn’t like the man.

And Ned Bixby had seemed humble and nice enough.

They’d phoned his home and gotten no answer, and when they’d phoned the studio, they learned that Ned had called in sick that day.

They tried walking around the man’s house, and they IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012

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spoke to his neighbors. He’d gone out that morning, and they hadn’t seen him since. He hadn’t looked sick.

They visited Reverend Milton, who was sad to hear that the young wife, Cynthia Bixby, was dead. “She was a sweet, quiet little thing. Her husband seemed to answer for her all the time. I had a lovely talk with her once when she came to church alone. She was excited to be living in San Antonio—both of her parents have passed on and she was an only child—and she loved the area. She was big on the history of San Antonio. She had a teaching degree, but her husband wanted her to stay home and raise a family.”

“Did they seem to be having any marital problems?” Logan asked.

“No—I mean, other than the fact that she looked to him every time she was about to speak. They sat together.

They even held hands. Then he called one day and said thank you, but they wouldn’t be back. He was looking for a church where he could be closer to God, and where he would know that he was on the right track to do God’s will. As I said, I went by after that, just a courtesy call, and I found Ned alone at home. He told me Cynthia had woken up one morning and told him she didn’t want to be married to him anymore, she needed to break away and live a life that was more fulfilling.”

“Was he angry, bitter, nonchalant? How did he appear?” Jackson asked.

“A little bitter, I think. He said she didn’t seem to understand that no matter what society dictated, God felt that a wife should stay home, raise children and honor her husband. She wanted to get out and see the world. He said he IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012

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believed she wanted to drink and cavort and perhaps sleep with other men.” He shrugged, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I thought maybe she just wanted to make her own choice about what to order off a menu.” Eventually, they left the reverend, and had an all-points bulletin sent out so they could find their “person of interest” and talk to him.

“We’ll have to leave it to the patrols and get back. Kelsey’s going to have her hands full at the station, even with Jane and Kat helping her and Jake returning. We’re not getting anywhere here,” Jackson said.

“I have an idea, one last try before we go back.” Logan mentally consulted his notes. “Come on, one more drive.

That’s it.”

Logan drove to the edge of the city. Jackson didn’t question him until they pulled onto a quiet road.

“Is this where the pond is?” Jackson asked.

Logan nodded. “I gather it’s down there. Divers were cleaning it out when she was found.”

Jackson followed him as he walked across the park. Logan saw the man perched glumly on the rocks by the pond and motioned to Jackson, who walked around the other way.

Ned didn’t look the same as he had the day before, when he’d been a member of Santa Anna’s army. Gone were the beard and mustache, and the hat. He was clean-shaven, his hair dusky blond. He was young, too, no more than mid-twenties.

“Ned,” Logan said, approaching him.

The young man looked up. Panic streaked across his face IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012

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and he stood, obviously planning to run in the opposite direction.

“Don’t. Don’t run,” Jackson said. He had his gun at the ready. Jackson wasn’t going to shoot; Logan knew that. But Ned Bixby didn’t.

Bixby turned to him again, then back to Jackson. Defeated, he looked at Logan.

“I didn’t do it,” he said. He lifted his hands and let them fall. “I was angry with her, yes. But I didn’t kill her. I couldn’t kill her. I could never raise a hand against her. I loved her.”

“We just need to ask you some questions,” Logan told him.

“Sure. Oh, yeah, sure. I believe that in the eyes of the world, I’ll be judged quickly. Guilty,” he said wearily. “Isn’t it always supposed to be the husband?”

“Two out of six?” Jane asked Kelsey.

“I’m sure we’ll have more once we piece together everything we’ve got,” Kelsey said.

Kat cleared her throat. “We have a definite ID on our first victim, Jane Doe. I’ve just compared the dental records, and the young woman is Linsey Applewood, out of New Orleans. She’d lived there since graduation from Tulane. She didn’t have a roommate, and she didn’t say a word to anyone, just packed up one morning and left. But she must’ve intended to come back. The apartment was full of her belongings and the landlord finally put them up for auction.”

“What was her major at Tulane?” Kelsey asked.

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“History.”

Kelsey drummed her fingers and started shuff ling through the pile of messages they’d received. She found the one from Linsey Applewood’s uncle. “Kat, do you have a number for the landlord?”

“Right here,” Kat said. “Mr. Dillard. I’ll dial it, just pick up the line.”

“Thanks.”

The landlord seemed to be a nice man who was truly disheartened to hear that Linsey was dead. Kelsey let him talk and consoled him the best she could. Then she said,

“It sounds as if you knew her fairly well. I’m so sorry, Mr.

Dillard. Perhaps you could tell me more about her. What did she like and dislike? What were her hobbies?” Dillard told her that Linsey Applewood had loved animals and spent many an afternoon at the zoo. She enjoyed jazz music, and kept talking about buying a saxophone. She was cheerful and sweet. She dated, but hadn’t been serious about anyone, and she liked to spend time with her girl-friends.

“Those girls, they just cracked me up!” Dillard said with a sad sigh. “They were so silly. They had these Ouija Fridays and they’d come over and drink wine and eat cheese and ‘conjure the spirits.’”

“Really? Do you have any information on the other girls, Mr. Dillard?” Kelsey asked.

“Bijou went to Europe before Linsey left,” Dillard said,

“and I don’t know her last name, or even if that was her real first name. I can get you a number for Dottie Hicks.

She’s still in town. In fact, she bought one of the tea- reading IN PROCESS EDITION - JAN. 10, 2012

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places down in the Quarter. Give me a minute—I’ll be right back.”

Kelsey waited. He returned with a number for Dottie, and when she’d ended the call, Kelsey dialed it. A young woman’s voice answered. “Tender Tea Leaves.” Kelsey asked to speak with Dottie and found out she already was. Dottie hadn’t heard about Linsey, but although she was dismayed, she wasn’t surprised. “Oh! Oh, no! I was afraid of something like this, but I hoped… I mean, when she just disappeared… Oh, no, this is horrible.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kelsey said. “I spoke with Mr. Dillard.

He said you and Linsey and another girl were fond of the Ouija board and that you had parties every Friday night.”

“Let me close the door.” Dottie was gone for a second and came back. “Honestly, we try to read people rather than leaves. But I don’t want the customers hearing that. Linsey was…well, she wanted it all to be real. She wanted to see the future, and she believed we could contact ghosts. One night, the planchette went f lying right off the board and the lights began to f licker. I swear, it’s true.”

“What ghost were you contacting?” Kelsey asked.

“I don’t remember. A pirate, someone in Lafitte’s crew, or…I don’t remember. But Linsey started thinking she knew things. She was always trying to get me to go to Texas with her—”

“San

Antonio?”

“Yes. She wanted to stay at an old inn there.”

“The

Longhorn?”

“I’m not sure. It might have been.”

Kelsey was on the phone a while longer, making notes.

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When she hung up, Jane handed her the sketch of the girl Sandy had recognized. “Sheryl Higgins. Drifting waitress, pothead and self-proclaimed palm reader. Her last known residence was Houston. She was recognized by the truck driver who gave her a ride out here. He happened to be back in San Antonio and saw this morning’s paper.”

“So, Sandy and Ricky were right,” Kelsey said. “Did you say palm reader?”

Jane gave her another piece of paper. “Truck driver’s number. His name is Billie Joe Glover. He’s expecting your call, and he’ll come in if we wish.”

“Thanks.” Kelsey made her next call. Billie Joe was shocked to hear about Sherry. She’d been cheerful, he said, even if she didn’t seem to have a lick of common sense.

“She told me she could sling hash, and if you could sling hash and pop the top on a beer, you could work anywhere in the country. She sang while we were driving, and she had a right pretty voice. Real sweet girl. I’d look for her every now and then when I came back to San Antonio—

but hell, I didn’t know she was missing. She just wanted to travel and see the sights. And she wanted to live near the Alamo. It called to her, that’s what she told me.” Jake Mallory arrived as Kelsey hung up after talking with Billie Joe, the trucker. Jake had f lown back to the D.C.

area, but returned when Jackson called him. He was ready to pitch in by manning the phones and interviewing anyone who claimed to have information.

Impulsively, Kelsey stood. “Jake, here’s the chart, my notes, the old information and the new information. I’ll be back soon.”

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She smiled at the others and headed out, not sure why she didn’t want to say that she was going back to the Longhorn.

She simply felt the urge to return to Room 207.

They’d wondered if the murdered women had some kind of belief in the paranormal. And so far, they were learning that their now-identified victims did. Linsey’s plan chette had f lown when she’d been trying to contact a pirate who’d sailed with Lafitte. That was where the story of the Galveston diamond had begun—with pirates. Of course, trying to contact a pirate didn’t necessarily connect to the diamond showing up in San Antonio, but it might. The legend wasn’t discussed in history books, but it was certainly well-known.