Caged (28 page)

‘So were you a member of the coven?’ Riley asked.

‘No, of course not, I told you.’

‘Then how come you were allowed to be there?’ Riley asked. ‘Sounds like quite a tight circle to me.’

‘Ally swung it for me,’ Beatty said. ‘I wish she hadn’t.’

‘But she swung it for you because you were intrigued.’ Sam grew a little sharper. ‘Seems a little strange to me that one minute you’re
intrigued
enough to ask your colleague to get you into this ceremony, and then the next you’re so disgusted. You must have known at least a little of what would happen.’

‘Not till just before, like I told you.’ Beatty’s eyes fixed on Sam momentarily, hoping to rekindle his kinder side, but then he gave it up. ‘And then it all started happening and I was right in the middle of it, and there didn’t seem to be anything I could do except go with the flow.’

‘Couldn’t you have left?’ Riley asked.

‘I didn’t like to,’ Beatty said. ‘Because of where it was.’

‘You mean, on premises for which you’re responsible,’ Sam said.

‘Yes.’

‘Couldn’t you have told them to leave?’ Sam asked.

‘I thought about it,’ Beatty said. ‘But I figured it might get nasty.’ He twitched his mouth. ‘I mean, witches . . .’

Sam and Riley were both aware of time passing, of Moore waiting in the other interview room, aware that she still had the right to leave at any time.

‘So what time did this ceremony start and finish?’ Sam asked.

‘We got there at eleven,’ Beatty said.

‘Eleven p.m.,’ Riley clarified.

Beatty nodded. ‘And I guess it was over by one thirty, or maybe two a.m.’

‘That’s when you all left?’ Sam said.

‘The coven left then,’ Beatty said. ‘Ally and I stayed behind to clear up.’

‘What did you need to clear up?’ Sam asked.

‘Candle wax, mostly, and chalk – they’d marked out this circle – ’ Beatty drew it with his hands – ‘and lit four candles – I can’t remember why. There was water on the floor, too. They’d brought in a tub that they bathed the woman – the initiate – in before they dried her off and . . .’ His voice shook a little and he cleared his throat. ‘Do you need all the details, because I’d just as soon forget it.’

‘What else did you have to clean up?’ Sam asked.

‘They’d pricked her finger as part of the
thing
, so I thought there might be some blood on the floor.’ He winced. ‘Clearly we missed that.’

‘Anything else?’ Riley asked.

‘Not that I can think of,’ he said.

‘So what happened after you’d finished cleaning up?’ Sam asked.

Beatty didn’t answer right away.

‘Mr Beatty, we’re nearly done here,’ Sam said. ‘It would help if you’d answer.’

‘Ally and I made love,’ he said.

‘And then?’ Riley asked.

‘And then I went home,’ Beatty said.

‘What time was that?’ Riley asked.

‘Around three thirty, I guess.’

‘Did you both leave together?’ asked Sam.

‘No,’ Beatty said. ‘Ally stayed behind to lock up.’

‘Why didn’t you wait for her?’ Riley asked. ‘I thought you came together.’

‘We came in separate cars. And to be honest, I just wanted to get the hell out of there, but she was still in this weird
mood
– she wanted to stay. She said she loved the feeling left behind after the ceremony.’

‘Afterglow,’ Riley said.

‘That makes it sound as if she made a habit of staying behind afterward,’ Sam said. ‘But the venues weren’t always arranged by her, were they?’

‘I don’t know.’ Beatty looked at his watch. ‘Are we done?’

‘Almost.’ Sam paused. ‘Mr Beatty, were you still at the house when the bodies of Michael and Susan Easterman were dumped in the garden outside?’

‘No,’ Beatty said. ‘I was not.’ He hesitated. ‘At least, not so I was aware.’

‘And was Allison Moore still on the premises when the bodies were brought into the garden?’ Sam asked.

‘You’d have to ask her,’ Beatty said. ‘If she was, she never told me.’

‘Might the bodies have been in the garden before you arrived?’ Riley asked.

‘No.’

‘How can you be sure?’ Sam asked.

‘We opened the shutters for a while because the moon was so bright, and I looked out for a few minutes. Then we closed them again because we didn’t want anyone seeing the candlelight and reporting it.’

‘And you had a clear view of the whole garden during those minutes?’ Sam asked.

‘I believe I did,’ Beatty said. ‘I saw nothing that ought not to have been there.’

‘Then thank you for your cooperation,’ Sam said.

‘Is that it?’ Hope sprang into his eyes.

‘Aside from asking you for the names of those others present on the night in question,’ Riley said.

‘I don’t know their names. Not their real names, at least.’

‘What does that mean?’ Riley asked.

‘They used their coven names,’ Beatty said. ‘And I only remember a couple of them.’

‘Such as?’ Riley asked.

‘Willow,’ Beatty said. ‘And I think one of the women was called something like Silver Moon.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Like something out of one of those trashy teen magic dramas.’

‘You watch a lot of those?’ Riley again.

‘So Ms Moore aside,’ Sam said, ‘you don’t know the real identties of any of the people who were in the house with you.’

‘No,’ Beatty said. ‘I don’t. I’m sorry.’ He paused. ‘Did I mention that they were masked?’

‘No,’ Riley said.

‘Did you wear a mask?’ Sam asked.

‘Yes. Just a plain black eye mask with slits in it, like Zorro.’

‘You weren’t masked in Ms Moore’s sketch,’ Sam said.

‘Are we back to that again?’ Beatty sighed. ‘I told you, I didn’t know she did that.’

‘One more thing,’ Riley said. ‘Did you or anyone else use cocaine that night?’

‘I didn’t,’ Beatty said. ‘If the others did, I was not aware of it.’

‘I have one more too,’ Sam said.

‘OK.’

‘Did they use a kind of dagger or sword during the ceremony?’

‘Yes,’ Beatty said. ‘I guess it was a kind of a sword, not a dagger. The guy they called the High Priest waved it around a few times.’

‘Is that all he did with it?’ Sam asked.

Beatty’s face flushed darkly. ‘The initiate was wearing a gown when she came in, and they used the sword to cut it off her.’ He paused, had to lick his lips, swallow. ‘There was some cord around her wrists, too, and the High Priest cut that.’

‘Anything else?’ Sam asked.

‘They never cut her with it, if that’s what you’re asking.’ Beatty’s eyes were suddenly appalled. ‘Are you telling me that sword was used to kill those people?’

‘Have you any reason for thinking it might have been?’ Sam asked.

‘No, of course not,’ Beatty said.

Sam got to his feet. ‘Then once again, we thank you. You’ve been very patient.’

‘Has any of it helped?’ Beatty asked.

‘Every piece of information helps at least a little,’ Sam told him.

Elliot Sanders had called fifteen minutes before, and Sam took a moment between interviews to check back with him.

‘Have you heard of an athamé?’ Sam asked.

‘I have,’ the ME said. ‘It’s a ceremonial knife, a kind of double-edged dagger.’

The number of things Sanders knew about never ceased to impress Sam.

‘Or sword?’ Sam asked.

‘Maybe. I only know of it as a dagger.’

‘Any chance an athamé was used to cut the throats of the couples?’ Sam asked, even though Beatty had talked about a sword.

‘Not impossible,’ Sanders said. ‘Though from the wounds, I couldn’t tell if the blade was single or double-edged.’

Sam winced. ‘Inconclusive, then?’

‘Sorry, Sam,’ Sanders said.

EIGHTY-EIGHT

‘
Y
our friend, or rather your boss,’ Riley told Moore after they’d restarted the interview, ‘has been very helpful.’

‘Good for him,’ she said.

‘He doesn’t seem to have enjoyed his night at the gallery too much,’ Sam said.

Moore said nothing.

‘Maybe the last part,’ Riley said, with a small smile.

‘According to Mr Beatty,’ Sam went on, his tone formal, ‘you and he attended an initiation ceremony of a witches’ coven at the former Oates Gallery on the night of the sixth to the seventh of February.’

Moore tightened her lips, shook her head, eyed the recording machine, then, finally, shrugged. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘The truth,’ Sam said.

‘I was there,’ she said.

‘That’s a start,’ Riley said.

‘No law against it,’ Moore said, ‘so far as I know.’

‘That depends on what went on,’ Sam said.

‘Trespass comes to mind,’ Riley said. ‘Not to mention that traces of blood were later found on the premises.’

‘And cocaine,’ Sam added.

‘Nothing to do with me,’ Moore said.

Neither detective spoke.

Moore was silent again for another moment. ‘Should I get a lawyer?’

‘Entirely your decision,’ Sam said. ‘As we told you earlier.’

‘Maybe if I just come clean,’ she said, ‘about what “went on”, as you put it.’

‘We’d be glad to hear that,’ Riley said.

‘I’ll bet you would,’ Moore said acidly.

‘In your own time,’ Sam said.

She talked for a long while, and there was no noticeable shame in her, more of a matter-of-fact approach to the way in which she described the night in question. She told them about the High Priest who’d run the show, about the female – Moore used the word ‘candidate’ rather than ‘initiate’ – whose clothing had been sliced away with a sword, about the rituals that had included the young woman being blindfolded and led naked to a bathtub.

‘The water ought to be heated by fire,’ Moore said, ‘but I felt that wasn’t safe in the gallery, so it must have been damned cold for her, but she put up with it.’

‘Marks in her favour,’ Riley said.

Sam gave her a look.

Moore went on, told them that the candidate had been dried off, then carried into a chalk circle where the High Priest and every member of the coven had kissed her before going on with a ritual which had included something Moore called a ‘five fold kiss’, bestowed with blessings, on her feet, knees, womb, breasts and lips.

And more besides, bizarre rituals, including the blood pricking that Beatty had referred to, and a litany of stuff that made Sam and Riley want to leave the goddamned room and take a shower.

None of it, so far as they could see – including the sword – connected to the killings.

Which they got back to as swiftly as they could.

‘According to Mr Beatty,’ Sam said, ‘you stayed behind to lock up.’

‘That’s true,’ Moore said, then took a deep breath before adding: ‘I didn’t see the bodies being dumped in the backyard.’

‘Maybe you were one of the ones who did the dumping?’ Sam said.

‘No way,’ Moore said. ‘No
way
.’

It was, by far, the most agitated they had seen her.

‘Come on, Ally,’ Sam said. ‘Tell us what happened. What you saw.’

‘You knew about the plastic dome,’ Riley said. ‘And not because you’d overheard anyone speaking about it.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

‘That’s “no” to which part of Detective Riley’s statement?’ Sam asked, for clarification.

‘I knew about it,’ Moore said softly, ‘because I’d seen it.’

‘What did you see, Ms Moore?’ Sam leaned forward.

‘I saw the bodies.’ Her face was paler, the freckles standing out, her expression strained. ‘After Larry left, I went on checking around, making sure there were no traces left. And then I felt very drained – it was late, and it had been quite a night, and I was tired. So I lay down for a rest, and I fell asleep. And when I woke up – I don’t know if there was any noise, I wasn’t aware of any, but something woke me – and I went over and opened one of the shutters, and I looked out and the dawn was rising, and I saw them.’

‘Them?’ Sam echoed, hope stirring faintly.

‘Not who brought them there,’ Moore said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She rubbed her right temple with her fist, a turquoise gemstone on a ring leaving a slight indentation. ‘I’d like to believe that if I’d seen that, I’d have told you right away, but I didn’t, so there was no point. All I’d seen was those poor people, and at first I thought they might be mannequins or something, but then I could see that they weren’t, and they were so obviously dead, I knew I couldn’t help them. All I could do was get out of there.’

‘You didn’t go out into the garden?’ asked Sam.

She shook her head. ‘I knew Mr Mulhoon would be arriving pretty early, so I knew they’d be found. And it just seemed to me that the only thing I was going to achieve was big trouble for myself if anyone knew I’d been there, let alone . . .’

‘Let alone arranging a coven initiation,’ Riley said.

‘You can understand why I didn’t say anything, can’t you?’ Moore asked them both, appealing.

‘You’re a material witness,’ Sam told her. ‘You failed to report a grievous crime, and you lied when asked about it.’

‘What now?’ Her voice was down to a whisper.

‘We need names and addresses,’ Riley said, ‘of your fellow coven members.’

‘I can’t give you those,’ Moore said. ‘It’s secret. Anyway, I don’t know their real names. We use special names.’

‘Weren’t any of your friends there?’ Sam asked. ‘Maybe the one who lets you store your paintings in her garage? Or the one you visited last Christmas in Key West?’

‘They weren’t there,’ Moore said. ‘They know nothing about it.’

‘What’s your
special
name?’ Riley asked.

‘Fawn,’ Moore said, and flushed.

‘Who keeps the sword?’ Sam asked.