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Chapter 21

When they returned to their vehicle, Pendergast turned to Tigg with an expectant look.

“What?” she asked as she removed her smoke grey glasses and turned to glare at him.

“Your thoughts?”

“Not worth a penny.”

Pendergast raised an eyebrow.

“About Mr. Cambry.” Tigg thought for a moment.

“It looks like Eli is right. The killer doesn’t want a connection.”

“Anything else?”

“Not really.”

Pendergast regarded her thoughtfully.

“In the office, you reacted to Cambry’s name. Did you know him?”

Tigg stared at the floor for a few minutes and then reluctantly answered.

“Yes, I knew him. He’s a decent man, unlike the rest of that department.”

“Care to elaborate?”

She sighed. “He would come to see me in the hospital. His wife was one of my nurses, so he used that as an excuse to be there, but he would stay after visiting with his wife. He would sit and talk to me, hoping I would respond. I think he genuinely wanted to know what happened. Not that he didn’t believe the ‘official’ story, but based on the questions he would ask, he seemed like he wanted to understand the situation better.”

“For how long did he make these visits?”

“A couple of months, I guess.” She turned to Pendergast with anger in her eyes. “Until Tiny Darrow put and end to them.”

“How did he do that?”

“One day while Officer Cambry was there, Darrow showed up at my hospital room. He yelled at Cambry and told him to stop wasting time on a ‘lost cause’. Then he launched into a tirade where he said the most...vile things about my family, especially my little brother. He said that the man who shot him, Officer Sherman, ‘did the town a favor by wasting the little creep and saving the taxpayers the expense’. Then he said that it was too bad that Sherman hadn’t let my brother finish the job.” Her voice shook with rage. “Darrow truly hated me, so I suppose it shouldn’t have been a surprise. After Darrow left, Cambry apologized for what Darrow had said, but I hardly saw him again after that incident. I guess Cambry was just as afraid of Darrow as everyone else.”

“Why did Darrow harbor such animosity towards you?”

Tigg was silent for a few minutes. “That’s rather a long story. Let’s just say that his usual intimidation tactics didn’t work on me.”

Pendergast thought for a moment while Tigg drew several deep breaths to regain her composure.

“Interesting”, he said. “One would almost think you could have killed Darrow yourself.”

Tigg shot him a dirty look. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Merely an observation.” He drew out his notebook and scanned his notes. “Now I believe it is time to collect more data.”

“Mrs. Willamette?”

“Not yet. We require a broader range of opinions at this point.”

“So where will we find that?”

Pendergast pointed to a small restaurant directly across the street from the Sheriff’s Office.

“A diner?”

“Yes. I have discovered that such establishments have a certain draw for the locals and that they tend to gather at such place to, ah...exchange information.”

“You mean gossip.” Tigg regard the place with faint unease, she gave a short chuckle. “I’m not sure I can handle eating something I haven’t had to kill first...but I’ll try to manage.”

Pendergast nodded. They exited their vehicle and walked across the street.



Rick Mathies watched the two men leave with a feeling of trepidation. He didn’t like being “out of the loop” concerning his own investigation, and he was tempted to call Glinn to question his choice of personnel. Mathies went into his office to retrieve Glinn’s business card, and was about to dial the number when his cell phone rang. Surprised, he removed it from his pocket and checked the number. He recognized it immediately.

“Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

“Rick?” His wife, Joy, sounded upset. “Have you heard from Bonnie?”

“No. Why?”

“Her friend Lauren called. She hasn’t been able to get ahold of Bonnie so she called me to see if she was still here. I told her that Bonnie had left this morning and should be home by now. Lauren said that she had gone by Bonnie’s apartment but she wasn’t there. I tried her home number and her cell phone number myself after I talked to Lauren. She isn’t answering. Did she mention to you that she wouldn’t be going straight home?

“She didn’t say anything to me about it. Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing. You know Bonnie...”

“Maybe, but I’m worried, especially after...” Her voice quavered. “Maybe...maybe she had car trouble. She could be stuck somewhere where her cell phone doesn’t work. Could you...?”

“I’ll have someone check her usual route. Now don’t worry, Joy, I’m sure everything is fine.”

“You’re probably right. It’s just that—”

“I understand. I’ll see you tonight, okay? Goodbye, honey.” He pressed the END button and set the phone on his desk. He stared at Glinn’s card for a moment, sighed, and then picked up the phone.

“Sherri, can you call Patrick Campbell at the State Highway Patrol office? I need to call in a favor.”



Natalie Archer looked up from her task of refilling the coffee pot just as the two men entered the diner. She was slightly surprised to see new customers at this time of day. Sunday afternoons were generally slow and the diner was empty, except for a group of local men, regulars who were currently ensconced at their normal corner booth. Natalie was more surprised by the fact that she did not recognize these men. She knew just about everyone in Winstead, and out-of-towners tended to dine at the more upscale Café two streets over. She recovered from her surprise quickly, put on her professional waitress smile, and walked around the counter to greet them.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen. Would you like a booth or would you prefer to sit at the counter?”

“A booth, please, miss,” replied the elder of the two men.

“Right this way.” She led them to a booth near the middle of the diner, in front of a larger window that offered the best view of the street. As they approached, the group of men in the corner turned to watch the newcomers with mild curiosity. After the two strangers were seated the group resumed their conversation at a lower volume.

Natalie handed the men their menus and said, “I don’t believe I’ve seen you gentlemen in here before. Just passing though?”

The man who had spoken before replied.

“We’re here in Winstead to do research.”

“Really?” asked Natalie. “What kind of research?”

“We are examining the sociological, psychological, and economic effects of a certain, ah, phenomenon on small towns.”

“Phenomenon? What sort of phenomenon?”

“Mass homicide.”

The diner was suddenly quiet. Natalie looked over at the group in the corner. Then men were now openly staring at the two strangers. Natalie looked back at the elder stranger, who was gazing at her impassively as if such a thing was a completely ordinary topic of conversation. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the younger man start to slide lower in his seat.

“Uh...I see”, stammered Natalie. “Well, uh...that’s interesting.” She noticed movement in the corner and turned. One of the group, a large menacing looking man dressed in camos and sporting a crew cut, had risen from the table and was walking toward her. He stopped in front of the table, crossed his muscular arms, and glowered at the two men.

“Mass homicide? You mean the Zoller murders, don’t you?” he growled.

“Yes”, said the stranger. “I do believe that was the name of the family. Did you—?”

“Are you cops? Feds? Investigating the murders?”

“No, no, we’re not investigating the murders themselves. We’re merely researching the effects of such an occurrence.”

“Effects? I’ll tell you the effects! People are scared sh—”

“Yes, yes”, interrupted the stranger. “We’ve already been informed of that. We’re more interested in the details. How the crime has affected the community economically and socially, not just, ah, psychologically.”

“Economically?” piped up one of the group, a paunchy, balding man with a thin reedy voice. “Bob here knows all about the ‘economic’ impacts. His business has been booming lately. He’s regaling making a killing. Ha, ha! Get it? ‘Killing’.”

“Shut up, Arthur!” growled Bob. “That’s not funny, just like it wasn’t funny the last hundred times you said it.” Arthur took one look at Bob’s expression and his jaw snapped shut. The stranger looked up at Bob with interest.

“What sort of business do you run, Mr...?”

“Peterson. I have the guns and ammo shop next door.”

“Ah, yes. In the face of such an event, people have a sense of lost security. The purchase of weapons for home and personal protection is quite a common reaction.” He pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket and scribbled a few lines. “I would like to discuss this with you at a later time, if I may?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Peterson’s initial suspicion and anger seemed to be waning.

“Spendid. I’m Dr. Daniel Prescott, and this is my graduate student, Mr. Jack Crow. We’re from Bluestone State University—” Prescott was interrupted by Crow, who had succumbed to a sudden coughing fit.

“Are you okay, honey?” asked Natalie. Crow covered his mouth and nodded, still coughing. She brought him a glass of water. “That sounds like a nasty cold you have there. I’ll bring you some chicken soup, okay?” She hurried away, happy for an excuse to leave the conversation.

Prescott stared at Crow for a moment, then turned back to Peterson.

“Are you familiar with any of the other businessmen in the area? I would like to interview others as well.”

Peterson pointed to the rest of the group. “There’s some right there. Arthur Spiker owns the portrait studio and camera shop on the other side of my store.” The paunchy man smiled and waved. “Tony Vincenza has the auto repair business behind the Sheriff’s Office.” A young man with an olive complexion and piercing black eyes smiled thinly and nodded. “Steve Barton used to own the hardware store on the other side of this diner. Now he just works there part time, but I bet he knows more about what’s going on there than the new owner.” An older man with white hair and bright blue eyes laughed heartily at the comment and was joined by the rest of the group. “And last but not least, Harrison Carter owns the bowling alley and skating rink over on West Maple.” A light skinned African American man raised his hand in a mock salute. “I’m sure they could all give you an earful.”

Prescott finished writing in his notebook and looked up.

“I noticed a book store two doors down. Who owns it?”

“Jed Harlow,” said the men in unison, and then laughed.

“Crazy Old Jed,” said Barton. “I’m sure he’ll give you more than an earful.”

“If you’re lucky,” said Peterson, “he might also tell you about the time he found evidence of Bigfoot out at his farm. Called one of the biology professors from out at the college to verify it.”

“What did the professor conclude?” asked Prescott.

“Said he was full of sh—”

“Bob!” came a rough voice from the kitchen. “What have I told you about using that kind of language in here?”

“Sorry Sam,” said Peterson. He turned and smirked at the other men who were shaking with suppressed laughter.

“If you’re really lucky,” said Carter, still laughing, “he might even tell you about the time he and his friends were down in Point Pleasant and were attacked by the Mothman.”

“Friends?” asked Barton with a chuckle, “Which friends might those be? Johnny Walker and Jack Daniels?” The group roared with laughter.

“More likely is was just his girlfriend, Mary Jane,” said Vincenza, and the men laughed louder.

Prescott gave Peterson a puzzled look, and Crow starting coughing again.

“And if he’s feeling particularly talkative,” said Spiker, “he might even tell you about the satanists hew saw out in the state forest.”

The men became silent at once.

“Shut up, Arthur”, snapped Peterson. “You don’t need to be repeating that crazy crap.” Spiker turned pink.

“Satanists?” asked Prescott. Then men looked at each other uncomfortably.

“Jed said he saw someone dressed in black out in the state forest, near the Zoller farm, a few days before the murders,” said Spiker. “He said the person was performing some sort of ritual.”

“Did you report this to the Sheriff?”

“Jed did, and they checked, but they didn’t find anything,” said Peterson, glaring at Spiker.

“I see,” said Prescott. “Yet another common occurrence. People look to these, ah, fringe groups for scapegoats. Interesting.” He made another note and then glanced at his watch. “Goodness, is that the time? We need to be going. Miss?” he called to Natalie, who emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl on a tray. “Could we get that order to go? Make it for two, if you please.”

“Uh, yes, certainly sir.” She disappeared back into the kitchen. Prescott turned to Peterson.

“Thank you for your input, Mr. Peterson. It was most enlightening. We’ll be in touch.” Prescott rose from the booth and shook Peterson’s hand, then walked toward the register. Crow rose and followed after a backward glance at the group of men.



Sherri Watson knocked on Mathies’ office door and then opened it.

“Rick, Officer Campbell from the State Highway Patrol is on the phone. He says he has some information for you. Line one.”

“Thanks Sherri.” Mathies picked up the phone. “Hello, Pat. What do you have for me?

“We found your daughter’s car abandoned on the side of Route 133. No sign of your daughter. We think she might have failed to get a cell signal out here and tried to walk to find a phone. We’ll be checking with all the houses in the vicinity. I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks, Pat.” Mathies placed the phone back on the receiver with a sinking feeling. It’s just car trouble, he thought. She’s okay. She has to be. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Sherri opened the door and stuck her head in. Mathies looked up and when he saw her expression he felt a chill go down his spine.

“What is it, Sherri?”

“Ed Brandt called. He’s out at the Jenkins’ place. He says you need to come right away, you and Charlie. He says to bring the crime scene kit.” Sherri’s voice cracked. “He also said you should...you would probably want to call Dr. Crosslin in for this one...”

Oh God, thought Mathies, Not again.

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