“Yes,” he admitted. “But we’ve just taken the initialreport. Normally, we wouldn’t be concerned. You know how missing personsreports go. The young woman’s name is Edith Greenbriar. She was partying withfriends and was last seen walking down Swain’s Lane toward the home of therelatives she was staying with. Near your cousin’s house, Miss—sorry, SpecialAgent Donegal.”
“I’m not really a special anything here, am I?” Cheyennereplied easily with a wave of her hand. “We appreciate you talking to us atall.”
Adair nodded solemnly, glancing between them with curiosity.“You’re a couple? I mean, not just partners, but—partners?”
“Yes,” Andre confirmed.
“Interesting.”
Andre returned his gaze. “We were both with the bureaubefore we met,” he said briefly. “Different units then.”
Adair shrugged. “Who am I to judge?”
“Can you tell us about this young woman, Edith Greenbriar?”Cheyenne asked, leaning forward.
He nodded. “Pretty girl, twenty-three, bright-eyed, attractiveblonde. She came down from York, livednear Westminster, but took the train up here often because of friends anddistant relatives. She was with some of them, supposedly returning home to herfamily’s place after a night out, and never showed up for work this morning.She’s a sales assistant for a high-end clothing line. Sometimes, as we allknow, young women take off. So do young men, of course. But with what’s beengoing on here, we’ve decided to investigate immediately.”
“Any leads?”
“Only, as I mentioned, that they saw her walk down Swain’sLane.”
“And you talked to the residents at the new, high-pricedapartments?” Andre asked.
“We did.”
“One would think she might have been followed from there,”Cheyenne observed.
“We’re not discounting that. But—”
Andre raised his eyebrows. “But?”
“No bodies were found there,” Adair said quietly. “Please,we are not making easy assumptions here. We have, as one says, persons ofinterest.”
“And who are those people?” Cheyenne pressed.
Adair looked straight at her. “Your cousin and her boyfriendare among them.”
Cheyenne knew not to get angry. Being angry just meant theywould quit communicating. She focused on keeping her expression neutral. “Why?”she asked seriously. “Why focus on them and not your other suspects?”
“A bloodless body on their doorstep. Especially when thatdoorstep used to belong to the bloodless body,” Adair clarified.
“You interviewed Emily and Eric,” Andre pointed out. “Andyou searched the residence. Did you find anything that suggested they might beguilty of abducting and then draining the blood from three women?”
Adair ran a hand over his face. “No,” he admitted. “Andthat’s why they’re not under arrest. We have nothing.”
“But you have other persons of interest,” Andre said.
Adair hesitated just a minute. “We do.”
Cheyenne caught his gaze and held it. “But you’re notwilling to share that information?”
Again, Adair hesitated. “All right. You didn’t get this fromme,” he said finally, in a lower voice. “We have a few. There’s Clark Brighton,who lives in the new apartments near your cousin. He’s a so-called spiritualist.Spiritualist, not psychic. Not sure about the difference.” Adairshrugged, then rolled his eyes.
“He’s in his mid-fifties, a loner, but has a cult-likefollowing. He writes essays on the cures to be found in the air and throughpositive thought. He says there is a Satanic cult at work again. But he’s allNew Age love and hugs, or so it appears. He’s an interesting character.” Adairstopped to take a breath.
“The last young lady, your Sheila, was seeing a few mencasually. She dated Mark Bower, a banker who lives just outside the villagearea. And Benjamin Turner, a local writer and media sensation. Does up bits ofhistory from all over London. He has sponsors on his site and makes a decentliving at it. But remember, please—”
“What about the friends Edith Greenbriar was visiting, orthe family she was staying with?” Cheyenne interrupted.
“Patricia Franks and Victoria Mason. Distant relatives. Bothare in their seventies and arthritic. And the other friends Edith had been outwith that night don’t know anything either,” Adair said. “But yes, before youask, she could have been followed from the building. Again, please, please,remember—"
“That we’re not here to investigate officially, and that youdidn’t say a word to us,” Cheyenne supplied with a grin.
Adair nodded. Their coffee arrived, and they enjoyed itwhile Adair shared a short history of the town and the surrounding area. Healso told them he’d set them up with a private tour of the Highgate Cemeteryfor the afternoon.
“Mainly to the West Cemetery. That’s guided tour only. Montewill meet you at the main gate in…” Inspector Adair paused to look at hiswatch. “In fifty-five minutes. And I, I will be at the autopsy. If you learnanything, I expect you’ll inform me immediately, no matter who it involves.”
“Of course,” Cheyenne assured him.
They rose, thanked him for the coffee, and then Andre asked,“What about a man called Father Faith?”
“An idiot,” Adair exclaimed, waving an arm impatiently inthe air. “His shop is just a few stores down. He’s a psychic, though how thehell people fall for all that shite, I do not know! Sorry. He sells incense,herbs, does palm readings, and all that rot. He’s tall and dark and, I dare say,tries to look like a vampire himself. And, yes, we found him to be a person ofinterest immediately. Real name is William Smith. We couldn’t find anything onhim, though, other than him warning followers on his social media channels thatthey needed his special herbs and kits to protect against vampires.” He gave amirthless laugh.
“Had him staked out until our men tired of watching him buymilk and head home to bed. He’s as big a creep as those magicians who causedthe frenzy on October 13th in 1970. Hundreds jumping the fences with theirstakes and all, doing irreparable damage. Coffins dumped and corpses staked…God save us from such lunatics.” He paused. “Whoops, sorry. Even over here,there are rumors about your Krewe. You’re not…um, weird like that, right?”
“No, we’re not weird like that,” Andre assured him with achuckle.
Cheyenne couldn’t help but respond. “Oh, no. We’re weird inan entirely different way.”
For a moment, Inspector Adair looked worried, but then helaughed. “Oh, aye, there you go, Americans kidding around. Great. Well, keep meinformed of anything you find.”
“We promise,” Cheyenne said sweetly.
“And meet your guide—his name is Monte Bolton—at
