Chapter Four

Luke sat across the table from Peter Bond with his hands folded before him. Carly wasn’t next to him. They’d decided that first Luke would question the man with Campbell sitting next to him, and Campbell would be ready to dive in whenever he chose.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Peter Bond protested. “That horrid woman attacked me. I was trying to be kind—”

“I wouldn’t try that!” Luke said impatiently. “Your fingerprints are all over the plastic bag that you were using to carry your chloroform.”

“Self-protection! We’re not gun-toting wild men like people in your country,” Bond said.

“Then again, there’s a record of you reading from a chat on the H. H. Holmes Society website that carrying chloroform in a plastic bag protects you—and renders any victims pliable for whatever your plans might be. Since there is such a record...”

“No! No—if I found anything on the dark web, it was by accident—”

Campbell spoke up, looking at Luke. “I didn’t say a thing about the dark web, nor did I hear you do so.”

“Anyone can read anything!” Peter insisted.

“With great interest,” Luke said, leaning toward him. “Let’s get the truth from you. I’m not the one charging you here, but Interpol and the Scottish authorities are very interested—”

“Very interested, indeed,” Campbell assured him.

“All right, all right, all right! I was seriously approached by the young woman. Yes, I stumbled on that stupid website at the café. But—”

“You’ve been on the website before. That’s how you know to carry chloroform in plastic,” Campbell said.

“But I didn’t do anything!”

“You assaulted a young woman. Which, by your record, we know to be something you’ve done before. I’m afraid that will stand against you,” Campbell informed him. He looked at Luke. “We don’t have a death penalty, but we are capable of putting people behind bars for many, many a year.”

“Oh, I know you do. I don’t know the ins and outs, but our legal system is based on yours,” Luke said easily.

Peter Bond sat back.

“I am asking for counsel,” he said flatly.

“As is your right—even I know that!” Luke said, rising. “It’s just a pity. If you were to tell us what you know, the charges against you could be tempered.”

“Don’t you understand!” the man raged suddenly. “I don’t know what I can tell you. There’s a website. You know that. I went on the website!”

“You don’t know who keeps creating the website?” Campbell asked him.

The man shook his head. “It’s just a stupid website. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. I thought that ridiculous American woman wanted sex.”

“Interesting. Women who want sex don’t usually need chloroform,” Luke said.

“She wanted it!” Peter raged.

Campbell shook his head and stood up, indicating they should go on out.

Luke agreed. They weren’t going to gain anything from the man. He was a follower and not a very bright one.

He had greater hope they might discover something by visiting Aaron Miller in the hospital.

Carly met up with them as they exited the interrogation room.

“He’s no great leader,” she said, having been watching the questioning from behind the glass.

“I think we’re all agreed on that,” Campbell said. He looked from Luke to Carly. “You probably saved another young lady from a situation she might not have left quite so easily. Though if he meant rape and murder, we will never know. Thankfully, he will face charges, and no counsel is going to work to get him to walk free.”

Carly shook her head. “But we didn’t get anything out of him.”

“Neither did we let him get away with anything,” Campbell said. “Go on to the hospital, if you will. Perhaps you can gain something from Aaron Miller. I could not. I believe the fellow has lost his mind completely. How he managed to keep anything going in his state of confusion, I’ll ne’er understand.”

Luke frowned. “He—he struck himself in the chest. I have no medical degree, but...would that loss of blood have such an effect on his brain?”

“He missed his heart and major organs,” Campbell said. “That’s the extent of my medical understanding. Perhaps the pressure has gotten to him. Let’s face it, there is something psychologically wrong with a man to do as he was doing.”

“Only a true psychopath can dispose of human remains as if they were nothing,” Luke agreed. “And yet...”

“Holmes kept his mind sharp right up to his execution?” Carly said.

“Of course, these people are not Holmes. And Holmes didn’t need his Murder Castle to commit several of his murders. He dismembered Pitezel’s son and gassed his girls in a trunk in a room in Canada. He killed for money and he killed for sex, with no compunction whatsoever. But he never became incoherent.”

“We have to remember these people are not Holmes—they simply want to emulate him,” Carly reminded him. “We’ll go and see what we can discover from him, if anything. Thank you, sir,” she told Campbell.

The man nodded, studying her, then glancing at Luke.

“Thank you. We will remain grateful for the intelligence you and your group have brought into these investigations and remain ready at a moment’s notice to assist.”

Thanking him again, they left.

“You doing okay?” Luke asked Carly. He was driving again. She’d assured him that she really didn’t give a damn who did the driving—as long as they were doing a decent job.

He was pretty sure he did a decent job driving.

“I’m fine,” she said, glancing his way. “I’m a little angry with myself.”

“Why is that?” he asked her.

She shook her head. “I knew he wasn’t armed because he wasn’t expecting me to be any kind of a problem. And I have my gas mask, ready for all we know about what goes on at any of these ‘murder castles’ or houses or places owned or operated by any of these website users. I screwed up. I never thought he’d have chloroform in his pocket!”

“But you were holding your own just fine.”

She glanced his way. “I like to think so. But I’m also grateful you were there.”

“Partners,” he said simply.

“I think we should both go in to talk to Aaron,” she said.

“Agreed.”

“I need to admit, too, I was disappointed—although I didn’t really expect we’d get much out of Peter Bond. First, aren’t you kind of an idiot to access that kind of site at an internet café where police can come in and trace whatever was going on?”

“Not the brightest, no,” Luke agreed. “He wasn’t one of the castle owners, and I think he may have been telling the truth—other than the fact that if you had wanted sex with him, he wouldn’t have needed the chloroform.”

“Do you think he intended to kill me?”

“I’m actually glad we don’t get to know,” he said.

She grinned, but her smile faded when her gaze fell to her lap.

“I keep thinking I could have played it better.”

“I don’t think you could have.”

“Thanks.”

He drove into the parking lot of the hospital where Aaron Miller was being treated in the criminal wing. As they exited the car, he told her, “I mean it. He hasn’t given us anything more because he doesn’t have anything to give us—and we stopped him before he could do something horrible to someone.”

She smiled. “We’ve just got to get a grip on this thing.”

“It’s not just us,” he reminded her.

“I know. We have a great crew. Or k-r-e-w-e.”

They went in and saw the right people to get in to speak with Aaron Miller.

He was chained to the bed and attached to an IV and a monitor. When he saw them, to Luke’s surprise, he smiled.

“Well, visitors. Alleviate the boredom!” he said.

“You could alleviate it for us, that’s for sure,” Luke said, taking chairs from the end of the room to draw by the bed.

He took the chair closest to the man, allowing Carly to keep a distance, sitting next to him and closer to Aaron Miller’s feet.

“You’re bored? Hey. Not everything can be as great as staying with me,” he said, amused.

“Yeah, great! But, you know, I’m still curious,” Carly said. “You know, about the other ‘half of it’ that you kept talking about. Torture, murder...”

“Hey. I could have gone on forever,” he protested, frowning.

“No one goes on forever,” Luke assured him.

“I had tutelage from the best of the best,” Aaron said.

“Oh? And who would that be?” Carly asked.

“Who do you think?” Aaron asked.

“You got me,” Luke told him.

“Ah, come on! Guess!”

“Whoever is running the site, and you know who it is. You need to tell us. Maybe you’ll get out of prison before you die,” Luke said.

He stared at them, shaking his head. “You know who is running it!”

“No, we really don’t,” Carly told him.

“H. H. Holmes!” Aaron said, annoyed.

“H. H. Holmes is dead,” Carly pointed out. “He was executed in 1896.”

“That’s what he wanted everyone to think. He was the coolest man ever. He could charm anyone, including the executioner’s assistant. He slipped away, and another corpse was substituted for his!”

“Even if he escaped, he’d be...” Luke looked over at Carly, lifting a brow.

“Born in 1861 as Herman Mudgett. He’d be well over a hundred and fifty years old now. I just don’t think anyone is walking around at that age,” Carly said.

“Hey, you asked, I told you!” Aaron said angrily.

“Okay, so someone is saying they’re H. H. Holmes,” Luke said.

“And I’m telling you it is H. H. Holmes!”

Carly stood. “Come on, Luke. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Hey! It’s not just the site! He came to the castle!” Aaron told them angrily.

“He came to the castle?” Luke asked doubtfully. “When?”

“Right before the little dark-haired bitch checked in,” Aaron said. “Hey. You just missed him!” he added with a smile.

“Whatever,” Carly said. “Luke?”

“You don’t know! You had to have heard he was probably Jack the Ripper. He could move like lightning, sweep any woman off her feet, be so cool that other men liked him!” Aaron said.

“There was a TV series on Holmes, starred a relative, a man I believe—oh, who thinks that his ancestor was Jack the Ripper, too. But thanks to him and others, the grave of H. H. Holmes, Herman Mudgett, was dug up and DNA from the corpse was tested... Your hundred-and-fifty-plus-year-old guy is not running around Scotland today,” Luke said. “Carly?”

“Let’s go.”

“He was at the castle. I’m trying to tell you the truth!” Aaron swore.

“Okay, well, we’ll see about it,” Luke said.

Carly was already halfway to the door of his room, ready to knock on the door for the guard outside to let them out.

“He’ll get you, he’ll get you, he’ll get you yet!” Aaron screamed, straining against the cuffs and chains that kept him tethered to his bed.

Luke resisted the urge to hit him and joined Carly at the door.

In another few minutes, they were out.

She shuddered in the car as they started out, looking over at Luke.

“What is it about that guy? I never touched him, and I feel like I desperately need a shower!”

“Campbell said he was crazy,” Luke reminded her.

“It’s a—different kind of crazy.” She hesitated but then shifted in her seat, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Luke...I... We haven’t talked much. But I never came across a remaining soul, spirit, ghost...that was evil. I’ve come across moms who have stayed to watch over their kids, soldiers who watch over battlefields, victims hoping to help catch their killers or abusers. I have never come across anyone evil!”

Luke was thoughtful.

“And I don’t think we will,” he told her.

“But he believes it!” Carly said.

Luke smiled and nodded. “Someone out there is pretending to be H. H. Holmes. While he used the pseudonym H. H. Holmes, the man’s real name was Herman Mudgett. By either name, he was executed in 1896. I don’t have answers to the ever-after—no one does. But I’ve gotten to meet several of the Krewe members. We’ve talked. No one has come across an evil spirit. Maybe they really are sucked right down to hell. As we’ve seen, there are plenty living each decade to replace them.”

She smiled at last and nodded.

“Hang on,” he told her. “I’m going to call Campbell. I want to make sure no one who isn’t us or other law enforcement—and that’s limited—is allowed to see him for any reason.”

“You think whoever it is might try to get to him?” Carly asked. Then she frowned. “Wait—wouldn’t that be a way to lure whoever this is into the open?”

Luke paused and nodded slowly. “But no one sees him without one of us in the hospital, and there must be law enforcement in the room with anyone who comes. If someone is playing Holmes, and they decide they want to see him—”

“It could be to make sure he dies so he can’t talk anymore?” Carly asked.

“Exactly,” Luke said.

“Wait. No, I mean, don’t wait on that. But I want to go back in for a minute.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s get a description of the H. H. Holmes who visited Aaron—right before I came.”

“All right. And after...we can do better than that.”

“You’re right. We’ll have the footage from all the man’s hidden cameras. The police have access, right? What he was doing was illegal—filming people when they had the right to expect privacy?”

“Yes, guests have the right to expect privacy, other than in the museum, registration desk and public areas. In those areas, being as he was the property owner, Aaron had the right to film. I’m not sure about all the legalities, but—”

“Whatever they are,” Carly announced, “I’m going to get around them.”

She reentered Aaron Miller’s room and Luke followed her.

“Back for more torture?” Aaron asked Carly. She had walked right to his side and was smiling down at him.

“No. I came to tell you I believe you.”

He frowned, doubting her.

“I’m serious. Not that I really know you, but we did have a few very human moments.” She gave him a smile. “And because of that, I believe I know when you’re telling the truth. And you told me H. H. Holmes visited you himself. I want you to tell me about him.”

He stared at her curiously. “Well, he looked very normal. Not a particularly tall man, medium build, dark hair, great mustache. He wore a suit and he had me laughing. Told me he usually wore a really cool derby hat, but he didn’t want to bring attention to himself. He said only the cream of the crop—those who could really imitate his genius—got to know who he was. I figure you might have even called him a handsome man, one with a great smile.”

“Thank you. Maybe I’ll get to meet him, too,” Carly said.

“Oh, he will meet you!” Aaron promised her solemnly.

“And me,” Luke promised, stepping up to the bed and offering Aaron his best smile. “Trust me, he will meet us both.”

“Oh, he won’t mind meeting you, too,” Aaron said. He shrugged but winced as he did so. “He’ll dispatch you quickly, I believe. Because his true genius is with women.”

“Such a genius he managed to get himself hanged,” Luke said. “Oh, but he escaped that, right? And then he found Ponce de León’s Fountain of Youth, I take it, since he’s still walking around.”

“He’s immortal. As I am, so it seems.”

“No, you just have really bad aim,” Luke told him. “Carly.”

He headed for the door again. She followed him.

He didn’t put through all his calls until they left the facility and were out in the car. There he put the phone on speaker so Carly could contribute when needed and put a call through to Jackson and Angela first, and then to Campbell.

Their Scottish counterpart was going to see to it that all the footage they’d discovered at Aaron’s castle could be studied, along with all the footage from security cams at the café.

“Have they discovered anything else about people disappearing in the Loch Ness region?” he asked before ending the call.

“We can’t pinpoint anything. Naturally, there have been some preposterous headlines—‘Does Nessie Dine on Tourists?’ being one of the latest. We have reports of four missing persons near Urquhart Castle, a couple from Brussels, an American woman, and a young student from Calais. None had made overnight reservations, and family and friends just became concerned when they couldn’t reach them by cell after several days. We’re still looking into the situation because there had been one other ‘missing’ person who turned out not to be missing at all. She’d gone on to Inverness, but she’d lost her cell phone and hadn’t managed to pick up another. We don’t have a specific place, so...”

“Keep us posted, please.”

“We’ll gather what you’ve asked to view. Give me an hour or two, if y’will.”

“Thank you!” Carly told Campbell.

When they ended the call, Luke shook his head.

“‘Does Nessie dine on tourists’!” he said, shaking his head.

“Well, if he is a prehistoric beast, he presumably has a massive appetite,” Carly said.

He turned to stare at her, but she was grinning.

“Touchy, touchy!” she teased. “So—”

“We wait. I didn’t get to finish breakfast.”

“But we did have breakfast.”

“And half the time we forget to eat,” he reminded her. “Or we don’t have the time. I say let’s get a good lunch, and then we can study all the different footage—and find Aaron’s H. H. Holmes.”

She nodded, grinning. “Fine.”

“You know,” he murmured, “we can’t go too much by a physical description. The real Holmes only stood about five foot seven. A fairly small man by today’s standards. But mentioning to Aaron something about his derby hat...this man, whoever he is, has studied H. H. Holmes. He’s gone through the stories and legends—and the facts. He won’t be trying to appear like Holmes when he’s out on the street. But I figure we are looking for someone who is maybe five-ten or so, medium in build, and a good-looking man capable of great smiles and charm.”

“Like Peter Bond?”

“We know better than most that monsters don’t necessarily have scales and fangs. What supposedly aided Holmes during his years of scheming and murder was his ability to draw just about anyone to his way of seeing things. Our modern Holmes will be the same. And, yes, like Peter Bond and Aaron, he may be selecting a certain type of man when he helps or encourages his followers through the website. So. Lunch?”

“As you wish.”

“There’s a place near the castle I’d like to try. Can’t help it. The restaurant is called The Devil’s Advocate.”

Carly groaned softly but smiled and said, “Sure. I’ve been there. It is great.”

“We’ll drive back, park the car and do a little walking. Then by the time we’ve eaten, we should be sustained and ready again for the road.”

“Again, as you wish!” she told him.

Though it was past the restaurant from their parking spot, Luke found himself walking to the entrance of Edinburgh Castle.

“I don’t think we’ve been invited to lunch here or Holyrood,” Carly said dryly.

“Yeah, sorry, sorry. I just wanted to see the entrance, and the statues of William Wallace and Robert the Bruce.”

She grinned. “Cool history here in Bloody Scotland, but we need to know all we can about a different history.”

“Agreed. Let’s eat.”

They entered the restaurant. Carly suggested their charcuterie board to start and any form of their fish. Their waiter was great, with descriptions of everything on the menu, and the place was charming.

“You know,” she told him, taking a sip of the tea she’d opted for at lunch, “you’re partial to Robert the Bruce!”

“What?”

She laughed. “When we talk. I admit, great book and great movie, and so most people admire Wallace the most.”

“I do admire Wallace. A man who fought not for a crown, but for his country and his people. But remember, too, that history usually has a spin put on it by those who recorded it. I happen to like Robert the Bruce, too. So human.” He grinned. “A conflicted man. A politician of his day, and God knows, politics have not gotten any cleaner. Did he murder John Comyn? But, hey, do you know that the term ‘Braveheart’ was a title that was given to Robert the Bruce back in the day? Sir James Douglas carried Robert’s heart in a silver container when waging war in Spain against a surprise attack by the Muslims there. He supposedly threw the case at his enemies, shouting, ‘Lead on, brave heart. I’ll follow thee!’”

“You are just full of fascinating trivia.” She shrugged. “But,” she added, “if ever I read about a historical character who might have been easy prey for the H. H. Holmes Society, I’d say Edward I!”

“Careful. I don’t think the English would like you much for that.”

Carly grinned. “Just Berwick—just Berwick! Historians say he massacred half the city after the Scots there protested and fought against his rule. Women were brutally raped before being brutally murdered. Children were murdered. They say the river truly ran red with blood.”

“I don’t think Edward I was even there.”

“He ordered it—the killing was done for his benefit. A benefit of power, kind of like a benefit of finances, very much so an H. H. Holmes thing. Edward I was brutal—he wanted to be king of everything and everyone.”

“Well, his subjects didn’t love him but they respected him.”

“They feared him!”

“True. Still, I totally admire Wallace, but my boy Robert the Bruce was truly Braveheart! Seriously, think about it. Writers have praised Rob Roy and vilified the Marquis of Montrose. Rob Roy wound up pardoned and lived out his days in freedom. The Marquis of Montrose, like many others, fought for Charles I, wound up captured and brutally executed—as a traitor. Charles II came into power, had the marquis dug up, and he rests now in a fine tomb at St. Giles’, a hero! Spin is everything, you know.”

“Other than the facts—as in we know the Marquis of Montrose was brutally executed.”

“Have you ever seen him walking around?”

Carly grinned at that. “No. I imagine he was pleased when Charles II returned triumphant to reclaim the throne, and he went on.”

“What?”

She spoke and frowned. “I wish that there was someone who could help us!” she said. “Bloody Scotland, and we haven’t seen a single—”

“We are trained FBI agents first and foremost. We can only hope for other help,” he reminded her.

She nodded. “You’re right.” Carly shrugged and smiled at him. “When, um...?”

He sat back, appreciating their conversations were easy and just how much he was coming to like her. In their situation, of course, it was perfect to have such an attractive woman capable of switching characteristics, tones and attitudes like a Broadway actress as his professional partner. But he realized it was growing to be more too quickly.

And still he answered her, knowing what she was about to ask.

“When I was very young,” he said softly. Then he hesitated and shrugged. “I was twelve. I adored my aunt Jillian, my mom’s sister. She was fun, she was single, no kids, but knew how to be with a kid, to play, color, draw—teach. She came to every Little League game I played. Then...she was murdered. She was found in her apartment with her throat slit. She was well-liked. My mom and dad, her friends, coworkers—everyone was devastated. And no one knew who would have done such a thing. The police didn’t have a suspect. No prints, no DNA.

“I didn’t see Aunt Jillian at first—it was at her funeral and she tried to comfort me. But she told me to have the police look at her boss. I told my mom...and she told me she’d already suggested the man to the police, but...no evidence. I went back to the cemetery and found my aunt, and she told me she was sure he had tossed the murder knife in the dumpster next door where a restaurant unloaded their trash. I did some dumpster diving myself. And since there are a million crime shows on TV, I knew that I needed to call the cops the moment I dug through a bunch of rotten food and found it. Chain of evidence. The cops came. They didn’t know what a kid was doing in the dumpster, so I told them the most logical place to get rid of a murder weapon would be with restaurant refuse that might be contaminated by animal blood and... Anyway, his prints were all over the murder weapon and he wound up confessing. And apparently since what goes around can really come around, her killer was killed in a gang war in prison.”

“Do you still see her?” Carly asked.

He smiled. “No. She thanked me, and she went on. But before she did, she said I would be a great investigator. Of course, I reminded her she was the one to tell me to check out the dumpster. The thing was, in her mind, I had done it right. And she said, too, she had never been seeking revenge. She just wanted to make sure it never happened to anyone else.”

“And that’s what made you—”

“I went into the military first. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I figured after high school it would give me time to figure out my future. I went to college after—and because of Jillian, I did major in criminology. Became a cop for a few months, applied to the FBI, went to the academy, and then you know the story after that.”

“Jackson Crow found you,” she said.

He nodded, smiling. “And I happened to be on the case in the States and... Seemed logical for them to send me here. The Blackbird division is still gearing up, but...”

“Right. With Mason and Della in France—”

“We’re both familiar with Scotland,” he finished. “And you?”

She smiled. “For me it was easy!” she said softly. “I was on tour in Key West when I was about twelve, and the guide got some information wrong. There was a man next to me who was infuriated. Had to do with the age of piracy and salvage. So I told him he should just say something, and he told me that I needed to do it for him and I did and...”

“And?”

“The tour guide asked me to leave. But later on I was with my folks having dinner, and a couple who had been on the tour came by and told my parents I was a brilliant kid and that I had been right. They had made sure the tour company got it right from then on as well. His name was Captain Jack and he showed me where he’d lived in the 1800s.”

“You were never scared?”

She grinned. “By the time I realized I’d been prompted by a ghost, I knew he wasn’t scary and he wasn’t going to hurt me.”

“Nice. Still, pretty brave for a kid.”

“Brave—or slow!” she said lightly.

“And the FBI?”

She shrugged. “College and straight into the academy. And in several situations, I did get a few leads, and it was awkward to try to explain, and difficult and...”

“And then Jackson found you.”

“I think it was Angela. We were both at the wedding of mutual friends and wound up talking—just talking, not about the dead or anything. I was suddenly called to the Krewe offices, and it was the best thing that ever happened to me. Luke, thanks to the Krewe, we get to feel sane!”

“So, in other words,” he teased, “there really is a Loch Ness Monster?”

She laughed softly.

“I try very hard to keep an open mind on all things!” she told him.

His phone was ringing. He answered it immediately, listened and ended the call.

“We’re now invited to spend hours and hours going over video footage. They’ll be doing the same back at our headquarters. By the time it’s all over tonight, you’re going to be very grateful I made you go to lunch!”