“A small group,” Dan said. “Maybe a small group of six.”
Dan reached into his jacket pocket. He again produced the pictures he’d taken of the man—Neil Browne, as they knew him—and Jennie meeting with Nathan Lawrence in the restaurant.
“You know movie magic, George. Could this man be wearing prosthetics?” Dan asked him.
George stared at the picture a long time.
“That looks like him, yes, and... Well, the nose. The nose and the ridge on the brow—when done well, it can really change everything.” He looked at Dan. “That’s him. The last show I was working on...well, not a show, but the movie that just wrapped up. They were using a lot of prosthetics. It was something of a mystery sci-fi thing. Time travel. The writer is convinced, I think, that Neanderthals didn’t disappear, they just intermarried, and we all went happily on to become the Homo sapiens we are today. And I—”
He stopped speaking. His color went red, and then he seemed to become pale as ash.
“The movie,” he whispered.
“Yes?” Katie pushed.
“He-he...this man. He might have been in the movie. There was a day about a month ago when they hired on dozens of extras. They were showing time and time travel and...he might have been there. Right in the group. Oh, my God. Both. I mean, it was kind of a zoo. They had so many extras in, and there were three makeup trailers, and everyone had to be done... Silicone.”
“Silicone?” Katie said.
“They were using tons and tons of silicone.”
“So,” Dan said, “you think Neil Browne and Jennie worked on the movie? Was there a public invitation for extras? How would they have been hired?”
“It was in the newspaper. I think they advertised for sixty extras. I mean some, of course, needed very little makeup. But they’d advertised for all ages, all ethnicities, male and female.” George suddenly started scribbling on a napkin. “Carly Britton. She was the casting director on the picture. She would know. And she would know if there was someone who took the documentation for paychecks and the IRS and all that. If they were there—”
“They would have given fake names. But your Carly Britton may still be able to help us, George.”
He nodded glumly.
“What is it?”
“The production company,” George said sadly.
“What about them?”
“They’re going to start up again. This time, something like a Hitchcock thriller. They asked me if I wanted to be a PA.”
“And?” Katie asked him.
George sat back, shaking his head. “Not until this is over. Nope. I am not leaving this hotel until this is over!”
Katie nodded, understanding.
Dan had his phone out.
“Wait!” George said. “I’ll call Carly for you, set you up with her.” George leaned back in his chair to hear clearly as he put a call through to the casting director.
While George was still speaking with Carly, Dan’s phone rang. He answered it and then looked at Katie.
“Ryder.”
“And?” she asked hopefully.
“We have an appointment right now.”
“With?”
“A fortune-teller.”
“A fortune-teller?” Katie said. “You mean...one of the mediums working on Jackson Square in front of the cathedral?”
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Because Benny was approached by someone talking about the number six and saying a demon was coming or warning people to repent. I don’t remember the exact conversation. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I mean, this was going on, but that might well mean that anyone working on the square as a palm reader, tarot reader or anyone with a crystal ball might be zeroing in on the situation we have going.” She hesitated. “I think Benny said she was warning about something supernatural... I guess it could be the same person.”
“Maybe,” Dan said softly. George was still speaking with the casting director.
He waited for George to finish his call.
George looked at the two of them. “Carly says that she’s available after four this afternoon. She has an office on Magazine Street. I’ll text it to you.”
“George, thank you,” Dan said.
As they prepared to leave, Dan absently took Katie’s hand.
It was...a gesture.
She’d made a point of not letting him think that she’d become...clingy. Expecting anything.
And yet...
Holding his hand felt natural, good. Like being with him... When she’d hated him, she just hadn’t seen how striking he was, even charming at times, honest, determined, strong...
Perfect.
She lowered her head, sighing.
This was not a time to think that she was falling into...whatever it was that she was falling into. But she was glad of his hand.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“He just looked at me. And I knew!” the woman whispered.
Her name was Greta Marks; she was forty-six, an attractive woman with long dark hair and eyes as dark as coal.
If someone was looking for a stereotype, she did appear to be the perfect medium. And she knew it; she was dressed in a peasant blouse and colorful skirt and carried a large black bag. She’d opened it for them, displaying her crystal ball, tarot cards, and several books on discerning tarots, reading palms and understanding the messages that could be found in a crystal ball.
She was at Ryder’s station, and they weren’t in an interrogation room; they were talking to her in his office.
Dan had asked Ryder earlier how he had come to know about the woman. Had she been one of the hundreds to call in a tip, or had something happened with her?
She had been part of a tip. A tourist had called in to tell about a reading on the square at which she’d become afraid. The medium had told her the gates of hell were breaking loose, subtly, and that her lifeline wasn’t very long. She was susceptible to a demon, and an immortal demon was in the city.
Greta Marks hadn’t protested when Ryder had found her and asked her to come into the station. But Ryder had done it the right way: he’d asked for
