Voodoo Moon Read Online Free PDF Page A

minutes later, we walked into the chief's office. I could tell you about the neat and tidy desk; the various law enforcement plaques and awards on the wall; the photo cube bearing the image of a lovely, dark-haired teenage girl, the same girl in infancy, at the high school prom, and more recently hang gliding. But walking into the office of Susan T. Charles, the first thing you noticed was her.
    And for two reasons.
    One, female police chiefs weren't supposed to be so pretty. And two, women so pretty weren't supposed to have scars that stretched from their right temple all the way down to the edge of their full and sensual mouths. The contrast between her green-eyed, brunette loveliness and the ugly knife scar was stunning.
    She watched us watch her. She was used to this. She didn't like it but she'd learned resignation long ago. She even managed a sweet, tolerant little smile for us as she shook our hands and let us unfasten our gaze from the half-moon scar.
    The same uniformed cop who'd escorted us in now brought us coffee. He'd taken our order previously.
    When he was going, Chief Charles said, "Close the door, would you, Mike?"
    "Sure."
    He closed the door.
    She said, "Let's get right to it. Somebody shot at you this morning?" She sounded as startled as Mike had.
    So I told her our story. And explained why Tandy and Laura were here.
    Chief Charles smiled. " That's who you are. Several of my friends watch your show all the time. Love it."
    Tandy returned the smile.
    "And you would be who?" the chief said to me.
    I told her my name and what I did.
    "He's here to help us with the story," Laura said. "Give us a profile of the type of person likely to commit such a murder."
    "You don't believe it was Rick?"
    Laura shrugged. "Actually, we don't have an opinion. But it's an interesting story. Renard burning the asylum down. I'm told he even got several of the patients into voodoo."
    "That's my understanding," the chief said. "In fact, there were certain voodoo symbols found on the grounds. He must've left them behind right before he escaped."
    Tandy said, "We'd like to interview Rick Hennessy, if we could."
    "'Interview' means what exactly?"
    "Talk to him," Tandy said.
    "Put him on videotape?"
    "If we could."
    The chief sighed. "I don't have to agree, you know." Her tone was as crisp as the white button-down shirt she wore beneath her blue blazer. She had a sporty flame-blue scarf tied around her neck. Very decorative. She was quite lovely.
    "We know," Laura said. And smiled.
    "What are your objections?" Tandy said.
    "Well, we already have people from just about every major tabloid in the country camped out here, waiting for the trial to start next week. And they're all over the air and the newsstands talking about the 'Devil trial.' I grew up here. I know the pride this town has. We don't like to look like buffoons. Rick Hennessy killed his ex-girlfriend by strangling her. Then he took his knife and cut several voodoo symbols into her. But there was nothing 'supernatural' going on at all. She'd been unfaithful to him. He couldn't deal with it. He stalked her for several months. We arrested him twice. Then he started reading about Renard . I'm still not sure how that came about. But anyway, he became as obsessed with Renard as he was with his girlfriend, Sandy Caine . She was a straight-A student and a very nice kid. Pretty, too. Had everything going for her. Had already signed up for the U. of Iowa. Was going to major in history. Very serious kid. And a sweet one, too. Her mother was dead, and her dad will never recover. I wouldn't, anyway." She sighed. "Anyway, Rick—who isn't a bad kid, either, for that matter—managed to convince himself that Paul Renard demanded some kind of 'voodoo sacrifice,' as Rick put it. So he killed Sandy. I don't believe in pop psychology but it seems to me that this was an example of somebody who couldn't deal with the fact that he'd killed somebody he loved—so he blamed it on someone else. In