“Yes, thank God.” The idea that more of the creepy things might be burrowing through my stuff unsettled me big-time. I got some serious heebie-jeebies and felt like climbing up on a table but resisted the urge. Black would laugh. Tarantulas weren't poisonous. Get a grip, Claire.
“Maybe it was hibernating in the walls the carpenters took down when they remodeled this place,” said Black.
“Yeah, maybe a brown recluse or a black widow might, but a giant woods-dwelling tarantula?”
“How else could it have gotten in? There's more than a foot of snow on the ground.”
“Maybe somebody brought it in. Maybe to scare me. Maybe to kill me. Maybe it's a poisonous kind that we don't know about.” A sobering thought. Maybe the killer had designated me number three.
Black said, “That's unlikely.”
I hoped to hell that it was.
“Hey, Black, read through those crime files over there and see if you still say that.”
“You're scared?”
“Well, I'm glad I didn't come down here barefoot in the dark and step on the damn thing. The idea of some maniac arachno-murderer infesting my house with hideously hairy spiders doesn't appeal to me, either. You?”
He frowned. “Who's been here lately, other than the carpenters? Anybody? Anything unusual happen?”
“No. But who says I'd know? I don't spend much time here, either. I wouldn't have noticed that thing today if the dog hadn't gone on point.”
“Good boy, Jules.”
Then it hit me like a laser beam exactly who
had
been in my cabin of late, who had stood only feet from the spot where Jules Verne had cornered the spider, who had knelt down and opened his coat to warm up. “That guy I told you about. The psychic. He was in here, remember, I was on the phone with you.”
“Dammit, Claire, I told you not to let him in.”
“I'm not saying he brought it in here, but I can't rule it out. He was acting weird, warning me to be on the lookout because I was next, all from his so-called visions.” Anger came swiftly. I clamped my jaw. “He's up to his neck in this case, and I've known it from day one. He used a snake once to scare Classon. He could be trying to scare me.”
“Are you saying you've been in here for several days with that thing?”
I hadn't thought of that. I frowned but couldn't stop the shudder that shot through me.
Black said, “Okay, let's get some exterminators out here.” “On Christmas morning?”
“That's right. And we'll go to my place until we get a clean sweep.”
“No, I'm okay now. Chances are that's the only one. I'm not afraid of spiders, anyway. They're easy to kill. I'll buy a bigger flyswatter.”
“Yeah, if you see them first.”
“I have a spider guard dog now to alert me.”
“Pack a bag, Claire. At least at Cedar Bend we'll know there aren't poisonous spiders in our bed.”
“Now, let's not panic. How many spiders could one guy in a four-wheeler set loose in here?”
“Were you in the room with him the whole time?”
“Yeah. I might've glanced away a time or two, but the rest of the time, believe me, my eyes were glued on him. He couldn't have done it, trust me.”
“I see one more spider and we're out of here, agreed?”
“You betcha. McKay's not scaring me out of my own house. Animal control will know the score. I'll even donate it to them.”
Black looked at the files strewn atop the table. “Is this why you're up so early?”
“Jules needed a potty break. I thought I'd get some work done until you woke up.”
“By the way, Merry Christmas.”
“Ditto.”
He poured himself a cup of coffee. “How about I whip up some waffles and strawberries?”
“As if I keep strawberries in the fridge in December?”
“I'll call the restaurant.”
“Not at seven o'clock on Christmas morning, you won't. How about toast and eggs? I'll fix you breakfast.”
“Wait, just a second now, I think I just hallucinated.”
“I'm good at things you haven't even found out about yet.”
“I've found out about a lot of them.”
“Ditto.”
We grinned a little, remembering, then I left him drinking coffee and watching the giant tarantula trying to get out of the jar while I whipped out a skillet and a package of bacon. Black moved around the living room, looking under sofas and chairs for more holiday guests. More power to him.
After opening and shutting lots of cabinets and pouring himself a glass of orange juice, he said, “Mind if I take a look?” He pointed at the reports strewn around the table.
“Help yourself, but don't forget, this is highly confidential. Even the people at the academy don't know exactly how Classon died. We don't want the media anywhere near this.”
I thought about the storm of reporters and cameramen who'd descended like a biblical plague on us last summer and knew he was thinking the same thing. Neither of us ever wanted to go through that hell again. I cracked half-a-dozen eggs into a bowl. When I looked back, he was sitting at the table intent on the files. Jules Verne was asleep on his lap.
“I think you bought that dog for yourself, not me.”
“I like dogs. I haven't had one since I was a kid.”
“Want him back?”
“Keep him for pest control until Orkin gets out here. And for God's sake, Claire, use the damn security system I put in.”
“This wasn't a break-in. It was Joe McKay and I invited him in.” I placed strips of crisp bacon on our plates, beat up the eggs with a fork, then poured them into the hot skillet. The one dish that I liked to cook. Sometimes I even got creative after watching Emeril on the Food Channel. That's when I substitute ham for bacon.
“My God.” He looked up at me, horrified. “These people suffered horrible deaths.”
“Yeah, I know. Classon for days. The woman went faster.”
“This guy is seriously disturbed. And I don't think Classon's his first victim, either. Everything's way too choreographed, too well thought out.” He moved to the kitchen counter and sat down on a stool across from me. “He looks like a psychopath, Claire. I think he's more into the torture than the killing. That's probably what he's getting off on.”
He stared at me, thinking about it. “You've got to watch your back on this one. I mean it. Don't go off alone and put yourself in a vulnerable position. He's a planner, down to the umpteenth detail. This time he just got unlucky when a car slid in a ditch near the crime scene. Otherwise, Classon's body would never have been found. He'd either have taken him down and disposed of his remains or just left him hanging out there where nobody would ever think to look. He's a sadist and my guess is he probably sat by and watched Classon's terror inside that sleeping bag. With the added horror that Classon was in sight of the school and help that he couldn't get. This perp loves to watch the suffering. Enjoys the victim's fear, probably more than the actual murder. He's going to be hard to catch.”
“I'll catch him.”
“I'm asking you nicely, Claire. Stay at the lodge with me until you do catch him. He's clever, cunning, and if he did put that tarantula in here, he's interested in you specifically. Has he tried to get to Bud in any way?”
That brought me to a standstill. “I think Bud would've told me if McKay approached him or if he'd found anything in his house. He hates spiders.”
“How often do you forget to set the security system?”
“I'm not used to it yet. Give me a break.”
“Don't forget again.” He tossed a close-up photograph across the counter to me. One of Simon Classon's leg wounds. “Or you'll end up nursing wounds like this one.”
“I'm not going to end up like that.”
“You're not invincible. You bleed like everybody else.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“This isn't your run-of-the-mill killer. He doesn't think like normal people, I doubt if he can even act like a normal person. When you find him, he's going to be weird, eccentric, and it'll be hard for him to hide it.”
“Like, maybe, pretending to be a psychic? Unfortunately, psycho describes just about everybody at that school. How about working up a psychological profile for me?”
“I'm telling you, right now, without reservation, this guy is insane. No fancy syndromes, no split personality, no schizophrenia, no disorders. He's a crazy son of a bitch.”
“Maybe he's just mean, like a devil worshipper, maybe.”
“Devil worshippers are known to mutilate, cut out hearts and other internal organs for sacrificial offerings. But I've never heard of cultists killing victims with poisonous spiders. This is rare, I can tell you that. Rare and deadly.”
I stared at him, slightly unnerved by his seriousness. He was spooked. Black didn't spook easily. “Only we would discuss stuff like this first thing Christmas morning, Black.”
No smile. No humor. Black was not in a lighthearted mood. “I didn't realize what kind of monster you were up against until I saw these pictures. He'll be hard to figure, hard to track, I think. He'll be somebody who doesn't get along with people, an outsider, a pariah, even. He might have some kind of disfigurement that makes him self-conscious and awkward in social settings. And he'll have access to spiders and a place to keep them, maybe even raise them, like pets.”
“We're already on that. Where did he get so many spiders, you think? At this time of year? In the snow?”
“He'll have a secret place, a dark place that he crawls in to play with his little murderous creatures, that's my guess. Maybe a greenhouse out in the middle of nowhere that he keeps warm and humid and dark.”
I thought of what Joe McKay had said about me and a similar dark, humid place. I remembered the look on his face when I mentioned the grave. I decided to keep all that to myself. No need to spook Black more than he already was.
“So you think the killer was coming back to get Classon's body after he was dead?”
“Don't you?”
I nodded. “I'm with you on that. I think he wanted Simon to see his colleagues over at the school, moving around while all those spiders ate on him. That makes it ultrapersonal. He knew Simon, and he knows other people at that school. He knew Christie and Rowland and they somehow got on his bad side. He's connected there, big-time. Stuart Rowland himself could be the perp, but my gut tells me otherwise. And you think he's done this kind of thing before?”
“Hell, yes. Plenty of times, maybe not with this kind of torture. He's just hidden the corpses better in the past. You've checked into missing persons, I assume.”
“Harve's working on it. He's checking further into this guy, McKay, too. He's involved somehow. I know he is. Don't ask me how. I just do.”
“Do me a favor, okay, Claire? Just call it another Christmas present from you to me.”
“What?”
“Stay away from McKay. Don't be alone with him, and for God's sake, don't let him in this house again. In fact, don't let anybody in this house again.”
I laughed. “That's a little extreme, don't you think?” “I'm serious.”
“You know you don't have to worry on that account. I'm inhospitable by nature.”
“Yeah, I'm lucky you let me stay over.”
“By the way, Black, you still got that invitation to that big gala deal out at the academy on New Year's Eve?”
“Yeah. Why?”
I divided the scrambled eggs between our plates, rather proud they weren't burnt black. “They're still having it, so I thought we'd go, have some fun, ring in the New Year together.”
Black looked skeptical. “You realize, of course, that this is a formal affair.”
“That's cool. I can deal with it. I did it once before when I was sixteen. The prom. Worse night of my life. I had to wear panty hose.”
Black eyed me suspiciously. “It's black tie, Claire. That means a tuxedo for me and, dare I say it, a dress and high heels for you.”
“Just because I don't have any dresses right now, doesn't mean I can't get one.”
“You're actually saying that you're going to buy a dress?”
“Luckily Bud gave me a gift certificate at this fancy ladies shop downtown named Swank's. I'll use it to get something suitable.”
“Where will you hide your guns?”
“Harve gave me a ankle holster so all I have to do is buy something floor length.”
“You're going in disguise to watch your suspects, right?”
I had to laugh. “Hey, don't be rude. You might like me in a dress.”
“It'll be interesting to see if you really go through with this. Want me to help you pick it out? There's a perfectly good boutique at Cedar Bend Lodge. Your credit's good there any time.”
“Nope. That $300 gift certificate is practically burning a hole in my pocket.”
“Okay, you're on. I'm going to New York for a couple of days next week, but I'll make a real effort to be back in time to see you in a dress.” He appraised me. “I guess you won't consider staying at my place while I'm gone? There's 24-hour room service.”
“Yeah, right, I'll forget all about my investigation and go hide from the bogeyman at your place.”
“Here you go, Claire, take another good look at these.” This time he handed me Christie Foxworthy's photographs, the one with her wide-open eyes staring up out of the trunk.