The Transylvania had come in about the same time as Treasure Island and the Excalibur. With a choice spot just up the Strip from Circus Circus (now there was an interesting concept-Gambling for the Whole Family!), it had done a brisk business, specializing in those with a taste for the outré. Most of the joint was more tongue-in-cheek than terrifying. Scary more in the sense of, say, Disneyland’s Haunted Mansion than, say, a Jason movie. That showed in the galleries, too. That was another hot Vegas trend-everyone wanted a exhibition. The Bellagio had originally sported Steve Wynn’s art collection. The Venetian had a Guggenheim museum. Mandalay Bay had art treasures collected from around the world. And the Transylvania had a series of ballroom galleries exhibiting re-creations of various fright classics such as Frankenstein, Dracula, and Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.
This gallery was dedicated to Edgar Allan Poe. I didn’t know enough about his work to identify most of the references. But there was a spooky Victorian house, crumbling and decayed, with a façade that looked like a human face-windows for eyes, et cetera. There were cobwebs and skeletons and, of course, the requisite graveyard, which was where I found Chief O’Bannon, crouched on the floor examining something in a tiny evidence baggie. He was surrounded by a swirl of activity, at least a dozen forensic technicians carefully combing the site with dusters and infrared lights. Chemical swabs. Tweezers. I wondered if they knew about me. For a brief moment, I thought about turning tail and running before I was spotted. But that’s not my style. That would be too sensible.
One of the techs approached O’Bannon. Tony Crenshaw. His specialty was dactylograms-that’s fingerprints to the rest of the world-but he was so good O’Bannon let him mess around in hair and fiber and pretty much anything else he wanted to do. I decided to keep my mouth shut for a moment-a novel idea, for me-and just listen.
“We’ve gone over the box pretty carefully, sir. Lots of good trace evidence.”
“From the victim?” O’Bannon asked in his usual gruff manner. “Or the killer?”
“Certainly from the victim,” Crenshaw said, wincing slightly. “But we’re hoping we’ll get something from the perp.”
“What have you found on the girl?”
“Hair. A few latent prints. Blood.”
“How much?”
“Not a lot. She does not appear to have been wounded in any significant way.”
“Anything else?”
Crenshaw hesitated a moment. “Sir… have you looked inside the box?”
“Briefly.”
“The inner side of the lid?”
“No. Why would I?”
“Claw marks.”
O’Bannon squinted. “Like a wild animal?”
“Like she was desperate to get out. The marks match the victim’s fingers, which you may have noticed were raw and bloody.”
His eyes narrowed. “You mean-she was still alive when-”
Crenshaw nodded grimly. They both looked as if they were about to be sick. I crept forward to get a look at the box they were talking about.
Just below O’Bannon, sticking out of the mock graveyard adjoining the haunted house, was an open coffin. With a very scratched inner lid.
“Christ,” O’Bannon said, wiping his brow. “What have we got now?”
Crenshaw shook his head and went back to work. O’Bannon did the same, but I could tell he was shaken.
A moment later, O’Bannon spotted me out of the corner of his eye. “What the hell are you doing here?”
I moved closer, hoping to avoid a scene. “Looking for you.”
“You should’ve been stopped on the other side of the tape.”
“C’mon. You know no one can stop me.”
He grunted unhappily.
“I wanted a few words with you, Chief. About my job.”
“Here’s your few words: you don’t have a job anymore.”
“Chief, I know I kind of screwed up.”
“That’s like saying Rush Limbaugh is kind of conservative.”
“Let me make it up to you. Reinstate me.”
“No can do.”
“Please.”
He started to speak, then stopped, glancing at all the people surrounding us. He grabbed my elbow and dragged me off to where we would be less conspicuous, then looked me straight in the eyes, glowering. “Do you have any idea what I’ve had to deal with this past week, while you were off taking your rest cure?”
“It was hardly-”
“I’ve been dealing with a family-a very rich and influential family-that doesn’t understand why one of Las Vegas ’s finest beat their oldest son to a pulp. It’s amazing how unreasonable people can be about things like that.”
“The kid was a jerk.”
“Oh, well, in that case, you should’ve just killed him.”
“Chief-”
“They’ve been threatening to sue the department, something that would decimate our already strained budget, not to mention create some incredibly bad press.”
“If there’s anything I can do-”
“But there isn’t. You created a big shitpile and left me to clean it up.”
I had to take a step back. O’Bannon was way angrier than I had anticipated. I’d never seen him like this, and I’d known him even longer than I’d been on the force. His left eye was twitching, for God’s sake, and the little purple veins on the bulb of his nose were throbbing.
“Of course, I’ve had to deal with the IA boys, who were all over us, calling for an investigation, policy changes. The usual bull. I tried to point out that you were not exactly acting ex cathedra when the incident occurred-although apparently in your drunken stupor you thought you were-but that didn’t placate them. They’re demanding prompt action, which is just IA code for ‘throw us a scapegoat.’ ”
“And I’m the scapegoat.”
“What’d you want me to do, pin it on the kid you creamed?”
“So you just fired me. While I was seeking medical attention.”
“Technically, I didn’t fire you. Internal Affairs did.”
“Bastards.”
“IA wanted to go the whole dishonorable-discharge route-put a permanent stain on your record that would guarantee you couldn’t get hired as a security guard at Piggly Wiggly. But I told them you were dealing with personal problems and had a chemical dependency and a lot of other crap, so they just fired you and left it at that.”
“Thanks so much.”
“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for your dad. He earned my loyalty.”
I can’t pretend that one didn’t kick me in the teeth pretty hard. My father was a cop. He and O’Bannon had been peers. I think they were even partners for a while.
“Chief-please. Listen to me.”
He pushed my hands away. “Pulaski, we’ve got nothing to say.”
“I need to work right now.”
“They’re hiring at McDonald’s.”
I gestured toward the coffin. “Looks like you’ve got a weirdie on your hands. Some kind of psycho?”
“God, I hope so. Maybe if we have a real case to work, IA will ease up on my former behaviorist’s drunken brawls.”
“You’re going to need someone with expertise.”
“I’ve promoted Granger to homicide detective.”
“Granger couldn’t detect his ass with both hands.”
O’Bannon leaned right into my face. “But you know what? When I get back to the office tonight, he’ll be sober.”
They found Helen. Just as he’d planned.
He was experiencing so many emotions at once, it took a moment to sort through them, to catalog them in his brain. There was a calm, yes, definitely a peace that came from knowing it had begun. His actions had begun to concatenate. He had taken the prophet’s nebulous meliorisms and converted them into a concrete plan of action. There was no chance of turning back, losing faith, rethinking the agenda. It was done, and because it was done, nothing would ever be the same.