A Carnival of Killing Read Online Free PDF

“Last I saw of her, she was going to the ladies’ room. She must have gone out the back door from there.”
    “What about the Vulcan she was talking to?” I asked.
    “Not sure,” said Esperanza. “I thought he was still there because I saw three of them at the bar but Toni thought she’d seen four Vulcans so maybe one was missing.”
    “We just don’t know if a Vulcan went out of O’Halloran’s at the same time as Lee-Ann or not,” Toni said.
    “You didn’t see them go out together?” I asked.
    They both shook their heads and said, “No.” I silently wondered who had seen them leave together—who had reported this to Detective Curtis Brown.
    I thanked the two Kates and they left. I quickly typed the notes from our conversation into the computer, being very careful not to connect Lee-Ann with any of the Vulcans, and shipped it to Don O’Rourke for dispersal to whatever reporter would be picking up the murder story while I was riding with the possible murderer.
    “See you later,” I said to Don as I went past the desk on the way out.
    “Look for some fresh angle on the Vulcans, will ya?” Don replied.
    “No problem,” I said. There’d be an extremely fresh angle whenever Brownie’s suspicion could be revealed.
    I met Al in the lobby of the Crowne Plaza. “Do you think one of these guys killed that woman?” he asked.
    “No more than the cops do,” I said.
    “Don’t ask them too many obvious questions, okay?” he said.
    “Why? You afraid we might be next if the killer thinks we’re suspicious?”
    “Those guys carry guns don’t they? A gun could go off accidentally on purpose.”
    “Only Vulcan himself has a gun, and it’s not loaded. It shoots blanks.”
    “My Scoutmaster always said that unloaded guns were the most dangerous.”
    “So what do you want me to do?” I asked.
    “Be prepared,” Al said.
    We rode the elevator to the sixth floor, knocked on the door of room 666 and waited for someone in the gaudy red costume of the Vulcans to respond.
    I was startled when the door opened and we were greeted by a broad-shouldered, thirty-something man about Al’s height dressed in a navy blue blazer, white shirt, black-and-red striped tie, and gray slacks. “Come in, gentlemen,” he said, with a smile that revealed a row of perfectly-even teeth that must have cost his parents a bundle for orthodontia. “I’m Ted Carlson, the Vulcans’ manager. I’m the one who schedules all their events. It was me you talked to when you set up your ride.”
    I remembered the name. We shook hands and looked around. The red costumes I’d expected to greet us were scattered around the room, worn by men drinking coffee and filling up on calorie-laden pastries. There were eight of them, seven wearing red cloaks over shiny red running suits and one, the tallest and broadest of the bunch, clad in a black suit and sporting the same scarlet cloak as the others. All wore snug red hats that fit like helmets over their ears and foreheads. Every face but one was white, the exception being a young African-American.
    The black-suited man put down his coffee cup and walked—swaggered, actually—over to us. He was an inch taller and fifty pounds heavier than me, and I’m a substantial six-foot-one, 190 pounds. The pearl handle of a pistol protruded from a holster on his belt. Huge black goggles covered the upper half of his face. The bottom half was obscured by a mustache and goatee drawn in black greasepaint.
    “Welcome aboard,” he said in a deep growl. “I’m Vulcanus Rex, and you are now under my command. My first order is for both of you to get into costume double quick because we’re hauling ass in ten minutes.” He pointed toward two sets of red running suits, cloaks, and hats, and two pairs of black goggles, gloves, and boots, spread out on a bed.
    I hadn’t expected this. “You want us to dress like Vulcans?” I asked.
    “Damn right,” he said. “If you’re riding with us I want you looking