Afterward, they headed back for the Caddy, and since he didn’t have Stella’s patience, Mark was about to explode with his news by the time she asked, “What did you find out?”
He told her everything Norcomb had told him but wasn’t so distracted that he didn’t notice that Stella was driving back toward the Spivey family plot. He finished as they arrived, and when she parked the car, he followed her to the grave.
She just looked at it. Though it was a much darker night, he had no doubt that she could read each letter of the tombstone’s inscription.
“We could have her moved to a public cemetery,” he said.
“How would we explain it to that cop?”
“We’ll tell him Aunt Estelle doesn’t like a stranger in here, that she wants this space. Hell, we’ve got enough lawyers and money that we don’t have to explain anything. Or you can bespell him—that would be cheaper.”
“I don’t want to do that to her.”
“It’s not like she’d know. She’s dead—really dead, I mean. It wouldn’t hurt her feelings.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“A year ago, you’d have said that there’s no such thing as vampires. A year from now, there’s no telling what you’ll be saying.”
A chill ran down Mark’s spine, but that was a conversation he wasn’t ready for. “Well, if she is watching, she’ll understand why you want your grave back.”
But Stella shook her head. “I don’t want to just dump her somewhere. At least here, she’s got Norcomb looking after her. She won’t be forgotten.”
“Then we’ll move her to another spot here in the Spivey plot.”
“No. Why should I care if there’s somebody buried here anyway? It’s not like I’m planning to use the grave. And who knows? Maybe someday Norcomb will figure out who she is, and her people will take her home.”
“Maybe,” Mark said doubtfully, knowing that the majority of cold cases were never solved. What had Norcomb said? That there wasn’t enough time or money to pursue an investigation forever. Mark considered it. Time wasn’t a problem for him, thanks to the eternal life clause of vampirism, and neither was money. Stella was loaded and, as was customary, had settled a big chunk of change onto him when she brought him over.
“Stella, did you ever read the Nancy Drew books?”
“Why?” Before he could answer, she said, “Are you seriously suggesting we go snooping around like Nancy Drew to find out what happened to Jane?”
“Why not? We’ve got no plans for the next few days.”
“And you believe you can solve a murder in a few days when the police haven’t been able to in two years?”
“I don’t think it’s any more ridiculous than believing in vampires.”
She gave him a look.
“Okay, maybe it is,” he conceded. “But how about this? We snoop around for a few days, and if nothing comes of it, we’ll hire a private investigator. How does that sound?”
“Ridiculous.” Then she smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Mark still didn’t believe Jane Doe’s spirit was watching, but he sketched a salute toward her tombstone as they left, just in case.
“What first?” he said once they were in the car.
“Are you admitting that even though this was your idea, you have no plans about what we should do first?”
“I’m a big-picture guy. I leave the details to you.”
“I see,” Stella said dryly. “In that case, I think I’d like to meet my third-cousin once removed, or whatever relation Officer Norcomb is to me.”
They decided making another call to the police station to track him down might provoke unwelcome attention, so rather than drive back to get to Mark’s laptop in Raleigh, Stella called Ramon in Boston and asked him to find Norcomb’s address and directions to his house.
After hanging up, she said, “By the way, Ramon said—”
“I know, he said to remind me to put dirt in my bed. Smug bastard! I’ll come up with a way to get him back one of these days.”
“Would it help if I mentioned that Ramon is afraid of snakes?”
“Is he?” Mark said with just the kind of fiendish grin a vampire was supposed to sport. He was happily plotting revenge when they passed by Norcomb’s house. A squad car was parked in the driveway, making it a good bet that Stella’s cousin was at home.
Stella drove a few blocks farther and parked outside a dark house. “Does he live alone?”
“No wedding band, so he’s not married, and he mentioned calling his mother, so he doesn’t live with her,” Mark said.
“Good. I don’t want to risk anybody seeing the car, so you take it and keep circling the area. I’ll call you on the cell when I need you.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
“Don’t get lost!” She scooted out and was gone in a blink, while Mark moved to the driver’s seat to randomly drive up and down the streets of the housing development, hoping nobody would notice him. An hour and a half later, his cell rang.
“Stella?”
“No, it’s dear old Aunt Estelle. Do you remember that big red house right after we turned onto Norcomb’s street?”
“Having driven past it approximately twenty-eight times tonight, I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”
“Pick me up there.”
“Aye aye—”
“Once was funny. After that it gets old.”
“Yes, beloved.”
“That one never gets old.”
“Neither do we,” Mark said, and broke the connection.
Stella wasn’t in sight when he drove up but appeared at his window almost immediately. “Move over.” She climbed in and, as she got the car moving, tossed a yellow legal pad and a videotape into his lap.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“My notes from my talk with Norcomb and a copy of the Wal-Mart security tape. Or rather the copy of his copy that I had him make. If he’d had a photocopier, I’d have copied the case files, too.”
“He had all that at his house?”
“For one, your talk today got him thinking about Jane again, and for another, I think he’s a little obsessed with her.”
“Clearly.” Then a thought occurred to him. “He didn’t kill her himself, did he?”
“Nancy Drew would be proud of you,” she said approvingly, “but no, he did not. I asked.”
“You’re sure? How thoroughly did you bespell him?”
“Deeply enough that he won’t remember me, you, or Aunt Estelle. I could have made him forget his own address while I was at it, but that seemed a bit excessive.”
“You’ve got to teach me how to do that.”
“It just takes practice,” she said.
“What else did he tell you?”
“Everything he knows about the case, but there wasn’t a lot more than what he told you, unless you count the forensic details: decomposition, tissue damage, lividity. I’d have been done half an hour sooner if I hadn’t had to ask what all the terminology means.”
“You’ll have to watch more CSI. Any leads we can use?”
“Possibly. It turns out that Jane was at Benny’s the day she went to Wal-Mart.”
“That’s where I met Norcomb. Kind of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Not really. How many restaurants do you think there are in Allenville?”
“Good point. Was she there before or after her shopping spree?”
“Before, when her outfit was still noticeable. Black on black, with a skull ring.”
“No wonder she threw it away.”
“A good thing she did, or the murderer would have disposed of it along with the clothes she was wearing when he killed her.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Well, it turns out my cousin is one devoted investigator. He went to the dump and found Jane’s old clothes, still stuffed in the shopping bag.”
“Don’t tell me he had that at his house, too?”
“He did. Having a boy like that in the family does my heart proud.”
“And well it might. Did you learn anything from the clothes?”