Graverobbers Wanted (No Experience Necessary) (22 page)

   No clues presented themselves.

   I looked over at the clock on the
wall.Almost
eight.Four
hours until we needed to be at the taping.

   "Okay, Roger," I said, "you're not going to like this, but I suggest you sit here and study the tape while I go to that Cruor place."

   "All right, I'll see what I can do."

   "And I assume you know to keep the doors locked and be alert for people stalking the house."

   "You assumed correctly. But are you sure you really want to go there?"

   I nodded. "I'll be okay. The killer has put me in some creepy situations since he dumped us in the ditch, but none of them were designed to put me in danger."

   
"So
far.Be
careful anyway."

   "I will."

   I went into Kyle's room and was pleased to discover that it was a full 2.5% cleaner than when he'd started. I did the usual hugs, kisses, descriptions of punishment should he not behave, and then proceeded into Theresa's room, which looked nearly 4% better. Maybe my parenting skills weren't so bad after all.

   After telling Theresa that no, she couldn't come with me, I went outside, got in my car, and pulled a map of Chamber out of the glove compartment. I looked
upCruor
Street on the sidebar index and saw that it was located in square B-7, which meant it was way on the other side of town. No big surprise.

        CRUOR
STREETwas
part
ofRichmondHeights
.
The "Rich" part of the name was appropriate, because this was the wealthiest section of town. I drove past house after house that made my place look like a rotting hovel until I reached 1214. It was a green two-story deal with a recently mowed lawn that had already been littered with toys. The roof was covered with three different antennas and a satellite dish. A car was parked in the driveway, but I couldn't tell what kind because it was
hiddenunder
one of those stupid car covers. It was probably a nice one, though.

   I parked next to it, got out, and went up to the front porch and rang the doorbell.

   "Hold on!" a voice called out. "I'll be there in a minute!"

   It took about three minutes, but finally a well-tanned guy in his mid-forties opened the door. He wore denim shorts and a plain white t-shirt, had no remaining hair worth mentioning, and was in pretty good shape save for a small beer gut.

   "May I help you?" he asked, smiling at me with perfect, unnaturally white teeth.

   "This is going to be a bit unusual," I admitted, "but could I ask you a few questions?"

   "No, I haven't been Saved," he said.

   
"Nothing like that."

   "I don't need any magazine subscriptions, either."

   "I'm not selling anything. Could I come inside?" I asked.

   The man's smile faltered. "Is there some sort of problem?"

   "You're not in any trouble or anything," I assured him. "I'm a private investigator, and I was hoping that maybe you might have some information for me."

   Now the man looked downright uncomfortable. "I doubt I know anything. Are you sure this is the right house? Who are you looking for specifically?"

   "Mr. Tandy." No great detective work there, I'd just checked the name on the mailbox.

   "That's me, but I'm not sure what I can help you with."

   "Have you heard of something called Ghoulish Delights?"

   The man shook his head.
"
No.Never
."
He was so obviously lying that it was almost comical.

   "Are you sure? Because it's my understanding that some very high-level people are looking for a Mr. Tandy in conjunction with Ghoulish Delights."

    His tan seemed to pour right off of his face as he whitened. "Maybe you should come inside."

   "Thank you."

   We stepped into the living room, which was filled with furniture that consisted of either wildly expensive antiques or old junk—I couldn't tell which. He pulled the door shut behind me and gestured to the couch. "Please, have a seat. My wife and kids should be back any minute, so I'd appreciate it if you could make this quick," he said. "Can I get you something to drink?"

   I wasn't in the mood to chug
downan
arsenic -laced lemonade or a root beer filled with razor blades, so I politely declined and sat down. I sank so far down into the cushion that for a second I almost thought it was some sort of death trap.

   Mr. Tandy sat down on the fading recliner. "Now, what did you say
youwere
wanting to know about?"

   
"Ghoulish Delights."

   "And what is Ghoulish Delights supposed to be?"

   "You know darn well what it is," I said, giving him my own version of The Gaze.

   "I'm sorry, I don't."

   "Does the name Michael Ashcraft mean anything to you?"

   "No."

   "What about Jennifer Ashcraft?"

   "No."

   "Okay, then how about Victor Grunge? He's a six-foot-eight, three-hundred-fifty
poundhorndog
currently sitting in the Chamber Jail waiting for a new cellmate to replace the one he broke last night."

   "You're not intimidating me," said Mr. Tandy, wiping about a quart of sweat off his forehead.

   "Boo!"

   Mr. Tandy jumped a good two inches off his seat.

   "I think I am," I said.

   "I
swear
,I
don't know anything about any Ghoulish Delights. I don't know where you're getting your information, but it's wrong. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

   "I believe I'll stay."

   "Okay." Mr. Tandy stared at the floor for a moment, and then began to check his fingernails for dirt.

   I figured there were two ways that this guy could be involved. He was either working for the killer, or he was a Ghoulish Delights customer. And he seemed far too jittery to be a worthwhile employee, so I suspected it was the latter.

   "Let me lay it all on the line," I said, leaning forward and looking him right in the eye. "I know that you have been purchasing a series of tapes depicting extended torture and vicious murders that are, how should I put it, not simulated. Am I correct?"

   "No! I don't know what you're talking about."

   "Oh,
really
?Mind
if I take a look around?"

   "Do you have a search warrant?"

   "I can get one."

   "You can not. You said you were a private investigator, not a cop."

   "I say lots of things to lots of people," I told him, mentally giving myself a solid kick in the butt for the search warrant gaffe. "And what I'm saying to you now
is
,you'd
better tell me everything you know or you'll find yourself locked away from your wife and children for a long, long time."

   "But I didn't do anything!"

   "Then how about telling me what exactly it
isyoudidn't
do?"

   "
Nothing
!Imean
, everything! I mean...you know what I mean! I didn't do anything!"

   "Do you want to hear what happened to Victor's last cellmate?"

   "No!"

   "It was mop city afterward, let me tell you."

   Mr. Tandy stood up. "I said I don't know anything, and I'd like you to leave my house right now."

   "Fine," I said. "I hope you've got your passport ready, because
you'llbe
wanting to flee the country before the day is over. You're busted, Mr. Tandy, so I'd advise you to make it easy for yourself. Tell me what you know."

   He sat back down and buried his face in his hands. "I don't know anything. I swear."

   "You don't swear very convincingly."

   He remained motionless for a moment, then removed his hands and looked up at me with wet eyes. "I didn't buy a series of
tapes.Only
one. That's all."

   "And who did you buy it from?"

   "Michael Ashcraft. I swear to you, I didn't hurt anyone! They did everything! All I did
wasfill
out a form." Mr. Tandy's voice cracked. "That's all I did. I only watched. I didn't touch anyone."

   "What was on the form?"

   "You know, hair color, age, race, build..."

   
"Yours?"

   Mr. Tandy stifled a sob. "No, for the victim I wanted."

   Oh
dearLord
,
I thought. Snuff films made to order.

   It was all I could do to keep from walking over and punching the sick bastard in the face. But I remained calm, even as Mr. Tandy broke down completely.

   "I swear, I didn't hurt
her
!They
said I could help out, participate if I wanted, or maybe watch the whole thing live and keep the tape as a souvenir, but I didn't! I wasn't there! All I did was watch the tape! I didn't tell them who to kidnap!"

   "And how much did you pay for the privilege of watching somebody die?" I asked.

   "One hundred thousand dollars," Mr. Tandy replied in a quiet, almost inaudible voice.

   "Well, I'm glad you're doing so well for yourself," I said. "That's a pretty big chunk of money for a tape, when you
canrentFaces
of Death for a couple of bucks at 7th Street Video. I guess even though you didn't kill her yourself, it gave you a nice little tingle knowing that she was dying because of you." I looked him over carefully, pretending to study him to figure out what his tastes might be. "Let me guess...you picked a redhead, maybe eighteen years old, athletic build, right?"

   "No. She was
forty.Brown
hair.Heavyset
."

   "
Well
,to
each his own ." I cracked my knuckles. "Listen, what I should do is beat the shit out of you then haul you straight to the police station. But I'm not going to. In fact, things may work out all right for you, if you're willing to play along."

   Of course, once the prisoners were safe I was going to make sure this guy was put away for a long time. But he'd find that out later.

   "What do I have to do?"

   "First off, you know the hundred grand you paid for that video? You're going to pay me twice that to keep quiet." If he thought I was nothing more than a blackmailer, he wouldn't question why I was letting him go.

   Mr. Tandy nodded. "I don't have the money now. You don't know how hard it was to get it the first time without my wife knowing."

   "You have exactly one week to get it. Remember, I know where you live. Now, I have some questions that I want answered."

   Suddenly Mr. Tandy's eyes widened. "My wife's just pulled up! You've got to leave!"

   "I'm not going anywhere," I said. "Tell her I'm an old
friend
,then
we'll find someplace to talk in private."

   Mr. Tandy lifted the bottom of his shirt and used it to wipe his eyes. The door opened and a woman entered, with three grade-school kids behind her, the youngest holding a box of doughnuts. I almost had to laugh when I saw her.

   
About
forty.Brown
hair.Heavyset
.

   "Oh, hello," she said to me. Her pleasant expression switched to one of concern as she noticed Mr. Tandy's distraught condition. "Ben, is something wrong?"

   Mr. Tandy shook his head unconvincingly.

   "I apologize for disturbing you," I told her. "I'm just here to speak with your husband about a financial
matter.Nothing
for you to worry about."

   "I handle most of the finances," Mrs. Tandy said. "Should I be speaking with you as well?"