Chapter Six
Aliases
Jennifer Shepherd, Abby Sciuto and Michelle Palmer make a careful inspection of Cleopatra's cool body which lies so conveniently in the chapel's mahogany coffin. Michelle, camera already in hand in anticipation of souvenir photos of Abby in the purple velvet-lined prop, begins to take pictures.
The reason for Cleopatra's lamentable condition is quickly discovered when Jennifer tilts the still woman's head, looking for wounds. It moves far too easily. "Her neck is broken."
"No defensive wounds," Abby reports as she looks at Cleopatra's hands without touching them. "No bruising that I can find, other than her neck."
"It takes a lot to break someone's neck," Jennifer notes.
"Gibbs makes it look easy, but it's not. I know," Abby declares. "I tried it on my landlord."
Jennifer turns to her, uncertain where the woman is going with this but knowing she doesn't want to follow.
"Nothing apparent under her nails," Abby reports instead, not caring if she's managed to fluster Shepherd. Closer examination will determine if there's anything to find under those nails or anywhere else.
She obeys Michelle's signal to back off as the petite woman continues to photograph the body, circling the coffin to document the corpse's condition from every angle.
"No rigor, of course," Jennifer says as she too checks the dead woman's fingers. It's far too soon. They've barely been in the house long enough in total for rigor to commence at the fingers and toes. The cadaveric spasm Abby had discoursed on earlier isn't present either.
Shepherd pushes up the sleeve on her black Elvira costume, checks her watch. It's almost one-thirty. They've been locked in since midnight and at that hour Cleopatra was with them in the drawing room.
"Her body's still warm," Jennifer says. The woman in the Egyptian Queen costume can't have been dead much longer than an hour.
She doesn't bother to ask if either of her partners had considered packing a liver probe thermometer for the party. However: "Do you have any gloves?"
Michelle shakes her head.
"I do, in my bag," Abby reports. At Michelle's glance she says: "Never leave home without them."
"Why does that make me nervous?" Jennifer mutters, but she turns instead to Michelle. "Find 'Watson Pritchard' and bring him back here." She looks down at the still body of Cleopatra. "The party's over."
x
While Michelle hunts Pritchard, Jennifer sends Abby back to their room for her gloves. The scientist returns and each woman dons a set of latex coverings.
"When was the last time you saw her?" Jennifer asks.
"I haven't paid attention. During the tour. I think she was in the kitchen. Or was it the den with the Book of Shadows? I really didn't pay attention. She was just one of the crowd."
"Neither did I. What can we learn about the body?" They stand before the open casket. "No apparent tearing of the costume," she continues in answer to her own question. "Perhaps she was caught off guard?"
"Hard and fast?" Abby speculates.
"That's the way Gibbs likes it."
"Me too," Abby says with a smile.
Jennifer glares at her, decides it's a waste of time to try to reprimand her. It will only goad the irrepressible scientist. "Can't see any other bruises beyond those on her neck yet. They're subdural rather than surface."
Thunder continues to batter through the walls, and neither of them is sure it's a real storm or perhaps one concocted by their mysterious host.
As if in answer, the door behind them opens and Michelle tugs a mystified Watson Pritchard into the room.
x
"What's going on?" he demands, seeing Elvira and Wanda at the coffin. "Your friend here tells me she's a Federal Agent and-"
He stops dead when he sees Cleopatra in the coffin. Even under his 'black and white' makeup the agents see the blood drain from his face. He rushes to the coffin but doesn't try to touch the motionless woman. "Oh, my God," he whispers, "Carly!" His breathing is heavy but his voice is hushed as he turns to Elvira. "Is she…?"
"Dead? Yes," Elvira's bluntness defies her faux persona. Pritchard clutches his chest, his breath coming too fast.
"I need to know what happened here," Shepherd says, using the whipsnap of her voice to get control of him so that he may regain control of himself. "You called her 'Carly'. I take it you know her well?"
"Yes," he gasps, "she - I - we - that is - ah..."
x
"Let's start with her name." Jennifer's voice is professional and firm, far different from the 'real' Elvira's throaty sensuality.
"Car - Carly Simon."
"I mean her name." She's had enough of aliases for one night.
"That is–"
He struggles to recover, turns from the still body, fights to get his breath under control, probably realizes what a poor showing he's making. "That is her name," he says clearly, distinctly. "Carly Simon. Well, Carla, maybe even 'Carlotta', but she doesn't - didn't - use that. To us - to us she's always been 'Carly'." He shakes his head hard.
They can see he's gone from shock to fighting grief, and it's a war he's barely managing to uphold.
"What happened?" he demands, unable to believe he's being interrogated by Elvira, the Scarlet Witch and Vampirella. Who are you people?"
"I'm Jennifer Shepherd, Director of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service." She wishes she had her shield - if she had anywhere to put the thin ID case in this damned costume. "This is Special Agent Michelle Palmer and Forensic Scientist Abigail Sciuto. And you are?"
"H - Harry Houdini." He sees the last of Elvira's - Shepherd's - patience fry. "No, that really is my name. No relation. Well, maybe a fifty-sixth cousin thirty times removed but my name is Harold Houdini."
"You own this place," Abby realizes. She turns to the others. "The papers said 'Harry Houdini' won the gazillion dollars in that lottery. I just figured it was a ploy to keep the winner anonymous. That was the name on my winning e-mail."
"That's my name."
Shepherd has had enough. "And how does Simon fit into this?" The answer suggests itself to them even before Houdini can answer. The solo arrival when her 'boyfriend' got sick, her stepping under the chandelier and also standing in the precise spot for her hand to be marked with blood from the ceiling…. The pirate Sparrow had helped her both times. "Is 'Jack Sparrow' in on this?"
"Yeah," Harry nods sharply, seemingly back in control. Grief is there, as is shock, but he's coping better. "Matt Nicholas is his name. There was Carly; then there's Pete Pascone, Linda Hayes, Bill Murphy - he was 'Death' with the scythe, by the way - and Paula Comisky's in the control room."
"I figured 'Death' and 'Jack Sparrow' were in on it," Abby declares. "That scythe came way too close, and his tantrum was a bit over the top."
"I asked him to work on that," Pritchard / Houdini admits. "They rehearsed it a hundred times, we needed to get it just right."
x
Michelle steps in front of him, the vampiress' eyes ablaze. For her that list of names leaves one unaccounted for. "Tell me Pascone isn't Dracula."
Her fire sears; Houdini takes a step back from the heat. "Why?"
"Because after I was 'morph-proed' into old Vampi, he came into my room and tried to rape me!"
Houdini's face pales again under his 'black and white' makeup. He looks to Elvira and Wanda, seeking denial. He doesn't get it.
"Shit. No. I'm sorry you-. This is all coming apart. No, Pete and Lin were Jonas and Minerva Slaggs, the Caretakers. Then they handle the physical effects; trap doors, hidden passages and so forth. They light the candles just before we get there, that sort of thing. They don't interact with the guests; that's Matt, Carly and I."
"Okay then," she says in a voice of iron, dismissing nothing.
Houdini, trembling, won't risk asking if she's going to press charges, or going to sue him as host. His grand plans are collapsing around him on Pre-Opening Night.
He goes past the head of the coffin, pushes aside a black curtain and reveals a metal grill with a red button beneath. He presses it. "P-Paula?"
A few seconds later a woman's voice answers with impressive clarity. "Go ahead."
"It's ..." He takes a deep breath, holds it, lets it out slowly and his voice sounds almost normal. "It's Harry in the Chapel." He winces and the women expect it's because Paula knows exactly where the intercom call originates. "We have a problem. Get Matt over here."
"Okay."
Houdini turns to the women. "It could be a few minutes."
Shepherd is quite willing to channel Gibbs. "Not too many."
xx
It doesn't take long for Jack Sparrow, a.k.a. Matthew Nicholas, to walk into the chapel. Houdini is nearly recovered in that time; fortunate because Sparrow's evidently surprised to be summoned, yet to come upon his partner talking to three guests. He makes his best show of sticking to the amended script. He'd left the last public encounter with his partner quite angry with his 'host'.
"Mister Pritchard, would you mind telling me why–?" He stops dead when he sees the coffin beyond them. His face goes white under his pirate makeup.
x
There's a difference between a body at rest and a corpse and Nicholas reads this one truly. "My God - Carly." Before anyone can make a move he breaks through them, grabs and lifts Simon. "Carly - No!"
"Take your hands off her," Jennifer commands as he clutches her body upright to his and contaminates a vast amount of evidence.
Nicholas ignores the command, weeping as shock transmutes to unrestrained grief. He clings to the dead woman, holds her flaccid body tight to his. "NO. You can't be dead. You can't. Oh God NO."
Houdini tries to separate them but Nicholas, insensate, clings tighter, his loud cries rising to a keening wail. The more force Houdini uses, the tighter Nicholas clutches the corpse.
Jennifer steps to them and her voice slashes like a sword.
"Mister Nicholas, let go of her now or you are under arrest!" Shock snares the man's attention and he tries to focus on her through his tears, his face a mask of grieving disbelief. "Now."
The distraction is enough for Houdini to gain the upper hand and pry them apart. He eases Simon's body back into the casket. Her head lolls, limp. It must be lifted and her hair straightened before she can rest in the coffin.
Nicholas stands beside them, unable to stop weeping. "No, Carly, you can't be dead. You can't." He whirls on Jennifer who had made the outrageous threat but all he can see is Elvira. "What did you do to her? WHAT DID YOU DO?"
x
Jennifer is ready for the distraught man's fist. She shifts aside and catches the wrist as it goes by, uses his momentum to spin him about, bends his wrist and kicks the backs of his knees. He slams to the floor on his knees, his arm extended up behind him, her arm pressed to the back of his elbow, his wrist bent back unnaturally.
His screaming cries continue, his wailing so mindless she doubts he feels the pain.
Jennifer allows five seconds of this and then looks to Michelle, her message clear. Michelle comes down on one knee before the hysterical man, careful of her posture in the miniscule costume and the slap reverberates off the close walls.
x
For a long moment there's utter silence. Sparrow stares at Vampirella, stupefied. At Houdini's touch on her arm she gets up and he kneels down in her place, his face before his overwhelmed friend's. "Matt - snap out of it." He looks up to the erstwhile Elvira. "Please, let him go."
Satisfied Sparrow's no longer an out-of-control threat, Jennifer releases him and takes a step back out of range. She won't let down her guard.
Houdini remains kneeling before the pirate, clutches his friend's shoulders and speaks in a calm but compelling voice. "Matt, she's dead. I don't know how or why but we're gonna find out. These three are Federal Officers. 'Elvira' is Chief Investigator, the others are her Agents."
'Close enough for field work,' Shepherd thinks. Since becoming Director, she doesn't relish Field work, but the explanation penetrates the man's mind. They watch sanity gradually return.
x
"Dead?" Sparrow rubs his sore wrist, trying to take it in. "Carly's really dead?"
"Uh huh. These Investigators are going to find out why." Houdini helps his friend to his feet, and when Nicholas turns to take in the three women his eyes, though tear-filled, are clear.
"Sorry I took a swing at you," he finally says, embarrassed.
"Don't do it again."
Nicholas still clutches his sore wrist, not sure if it's sprained or worse. He doesn't know if he could take the woman on when in his right mind but admits that, when insane, he's outclassed. "I won't."
x
While Sciuto and Palmer examine Simon's body, Shepherd asks Houdini, "Who would want to kill her?"
"No one," Matt Nicholas snaps. "She was the kindest, most loving person in the world."
Shepherd won't contradict this assessment, but it's not helpful either.
"I can't think of anyone," Houdini answers more helpfully - but only just. "Carly got along well with all of us."
"One of the guests," Sparrow / Nicholas declares.
"Why? What motive?" Palmer asks, looking back from the corpse.
"Motive schmotive - we sent out random invitations in a contest, for God's sake. And they each brought two friends. One of them's a wacco who murdered Carly!"
Unpleasant though this is, Shepherd has to admit they can't disregard the possibility. "What do-?"
A shrill screech makes her jump half out of her skin. It's followed by moaning and the clanking of chains, then a demonic laugh. "Can you shut that thing up?"
Houdini shakes his head. "That's a manual control combo, a signal that we're being called from the control room."
"Can't you go for a simple 'ding'?" Abby asks, annoyed at being interrupted from scraping samples from under the girl's fingernails into a handkerchief. She figures, however, this was how the message had gotten to Sparrow / Nicholas and doesn't envy anyone who was with him.
"Atmosphere. We can be called from a group. This lets us know to find an intercom as soon as we can get out of sight." Houdini goes to the curtain he'd pushed aside to reach the intercom, presses the button. "Yes, Paula?"
"Problem, guys. Carly missed her cue and…. Carly, what are you doing in the coffin already? It's too soon."
"Paula," he answers, not sure how to convey it, "Carly's–"
"Just a minute," Jennifer interrupts. "She can see us?"
"Sure I can see you," the voice replies, "I can hear you too, though why I'm talking to Elvira I don't know. Will somebody tell me what's going on down there? Carly, you're supposed to be hanging from the staircase. Now. Staircase first, coffin la-"
"Paula, Carly's–"
"Hold on, not another word," Jennifer commands the men, then steps close to the intercom. "Where are you?"
"I'm in the Control Room, not that it's any of your business. Come on, guys, we have a schedule to kee–"
Jennifer slaps the button, having had enough of the disembodied voice. She turns to Houdini. "I think you'd better take us to the Control Room."
x
They're halfway to the door when the same shriek, moan, chains and laughter erupt from speakers throughout the room. "Bastard." Sparrow / Nicholas returns to the drape, shoves it aside and slaps the button. "Paula?"
"Guys, what's going on?"
"Carly's dead. Really dead. But someone put her in the coffin. We're on our way to you."
The woman's response almost burns out the wires.
x
Jennifer doesn't want to leave either of her Agents behind; both of them have skills that are needed to solve this case and she wants everyone on the same page, but she can't leave the crime scene unattended. Whether it's a primary or secondary scene is still to be determined, and that's on the bottom of the mountain of questions. "Can you lock this door?" she demands of Houdini. "I mean really lock it?"
"Paula can override the lock. She can seal it so you can't even get in with a key."
"Have her do it."
He reaches for the intercom button again. "Paula?" No answer. After a few seconds, "Paula?"
"Yeah," comes the griping response, "'have her do it'. You know, you'll get better cooperation if you ask nicely yourself."
"Paula."
"Yeah, fine. As soon as you're out I'll seal everything up tight. I guess our famous Pre-Grand Opening's shot to shi-" Houdini turns off the intercom.
"Please excuse her," he appeals, "she's not usually like this. The schedule is - was - very important if we were going to make this night all it could be. We've all been under a lot of pressure. Two years we've been working for this and - I think everyone's dealing pretty badly with losing Carly."
"I understand, Mr. Houdini. But we're trying to find out why. And who."
"Is there any possibility it could be a guest?"
Shepherd would rather not consider that. She has worked one motiveless murder spree, never wants another. It would be so much nicer to have someone who knows the victim, but she has no choice. Everyone has to be considered guilty until proven innocent, at least in the eyes of the Investigators. That situation only reverses itself when they get the murderer before a judge. "This building is locked up tight?"
"As a drum. What Vincent said is literally true. No one gets out of here unless we let them out."
"Then it doesn't matter whether it was an employee or a guest. We'll either work it out or the Virginia Police will. Either way, no one is going anywhere."