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“Such as who?” Christopher asked.
Marie just shook her head again, though. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I have to go make sure the museum’s visitors are all right.”
She made to leave. Paige could have attempted to stop her, given that she obviously knew something, but she knew that there was no point. If Marie wasn’t comfortable saying anything to them yet, trying to force it out of her wouldn’t help. If anything, it would only make it less likely that she would say anything.
“There’s something here, isn’t there?” Christopher said, with a pointed look in Marie’s direction.
Paige nodded. “She reacted like she knew something, but it was something she didn’t want to talk about.”
“Which suggests that it’s something serious enough that it might be relevant here.” Paige could hear the interest in his voice. Washethinking of going after the museum attendant?
“Of course, if this is a serial killer, then he might not need a reason,” Paige said. She could hear the note of hesitation in her own voice.
“But?”
“But even with serial killers, their first kill can often mean something personal to them.” Paige found herself thinking of some of the ones she’d studied, ones who had started off by killing a family member or a girlfriend, only to build up to murdering complete strangers. “If they think they’ve gotten away with it, then they can find that they’ve got a taste for it.”
“Or they can have a reason to kill the next person, and the next.”
Paige didn’t know whether to be happy or sad about that possibility. “If so, it might let us find a connection more easily, but it might also mean that we only have a limited time before they finish and disappear.”
Either way, there was a possibility that Aiden Martlet’s job was relevant to all of this. At the very least, it seemed likely to Paige that his killer had followed him to the alley from here.
“We should ask the management of the museum if we can access their security footage,” Christopher said. “Maybe if we look out for the moment when he leaves, then we’ll be able to spot anyone following him.”
“That’s what I was wondering,” Paige said. “But I think we could also try a couple more of the attendants. Maybe one of them can tell us what Marie won’t.”
She saw Christopher nod. “How about if we split up? We’ll cover more ground that way. I’ll meet you back here in fifteen minutes.”
Paige felt a little hurt that he so obviously wanted that extra distance from her, but maybe it was a good idea right then. Maybe a little space was what they both needed.
She set off through the museum, taking in the artworks as she went. It was a strange collection of the classical and the modern, with the abstract and impressionist mixed in with works that might have been old masters for all that Paige knew about art. There were sculptures that looked as though they had been made from objects found on the beach and others that were sinuous twists of metal with barely anything in the way of a defined shape.
She found another one of the attendants by one of the sculptures. This one was a man in his early thirties, muscular with a short beard. His name badge identified him as Graham.
Paige started by showing her badge. She wanted to set the tone for this straight away. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Agent King, with the FBI. I’m here about the murder of Aiden Martlet.”
Graham put a finger to his lips. “Keep it down. You’ll drive away the visitors.”
It sounded uncannily like the kind of thing Detective Basman had warned them about: that everyone in the town was worried about drawing too much attention to the murders in case it ruined Arnville’s reputation as a tourist destination.
Paige didn’t care about that because the thing that mattered was catching the killer. At the same time, though, if other people’s worries about it were stopping them from talking, then that affected the case.
“I just want to talk to you about him. Did you know him?”
“I guess,” the attendant said with a shrug. “You know, to talk to. There were a couple of museum drinks things, too, and you talk to people on breaks.”
That made Paige feel a hint of hope. “So, you’d know if he had a problem with anyone here?” she suggested. “Did he argue with anyone in the days leading up to his death? With any of his colleagues, or with a visitor to the museum?”
Again, Paige saw the attendant looking uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now. I have to get on with my job.” He was already moving away from Paige as he said it, making it clear that he wasn’t going to talk to her.
Paige kept looking, but now she couldn’t even get the attendants to stop and talk to her. They obviously knew who she was by now and seemed to be keeping their distance so that they wouldn’t have to risk talking to her.
That was frustrating, and not just because she wasn’t getting answers. The more they did it, the more convinced Paige was that there was something big going on here, maybe big enough that it had cost Aiden Martlet his life.
Paige kept searching through the museum, hoping to find someone who was prepared to talk to her. It had been fifteen minutes now, though, so it was time for her to head back to Christopher. She’d failed to find answers.
Paige stood, for a second or two, next to a large statue that appeared to be a leather and metal representation of an ostrich, disappointment filling her. There was something particularly frustrating about knowing that there was something out there that was relevant, but that she couldn’t get to it.
