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“This is one of those places that lets people cover the stalls in decals. Guess they figure it’s better than graffiti.” He held up the phone and pointed to a large sticker, a black rectangle slashed with a now-familiar white symbol.
The Sigil of Lucifer.
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
“So one or more of the members of Lucifer Lost frequents The Velvet Volcano,” Jo said. “Or works there.”
Arnett’s expression was grim. “Maybe you’re right, maybe this thing is playing a bigger role than we thought it was.”
“No matter what, it leaps Lucifer Lost up the ladder of possibilities.” Jo reached into the wad of napkins she’d shoved into her pocket. “And, we have another clue.”
She flipped The Velvet Volcano business card over to the hastily penned message scribbled on the back:Can’t talk here. Meet me tomorrow at four at the Starbucks on Columbus.
“What are we, stuck in some dime spy novel?” Arnett said. “She can’t just call HQ?”
“Could be some sort of setup.” Jo tugged her seat belt on over her shoulder. “But given how little we know, we have to take the risk. Honestly, I’m not at all surprised. Any place that hides itself from street traffic and has a panic button up for when the police show isn’t what it seems to be. What’s your take?”
Arnett’s eyes scanned the building’s entrance. “I keep going back and forth between a front for a prostitution ring or money laundering.”
“Why not both?” Jo reached for her phone. “My first thought was organized crime, so I’m thinking we should check in with the Springfield Detective Bureau and see what they have to say.”
“Don’t want to screw up something they’re trying to keep a quiet eye on,” Arnett agreed.
Jo put through the call and left a message for whatever investigator might be keeping an eye on The Velvet Volcano.
Jo tapped the card on the corner of the phone. “Another possibility is if this is some sort of organized crime setup, Madison may well have gotten herself mixed up in something far more dangerous than she initially realized. She may have seen something she shouldn’t have, or upset the wrong person. Academic achievement doesn’t necessarily translate into street-smarts.”
“So they took her out into the woods and killed her, and made it look like it had something to do with the Lucifer Lost group to put the attention elsewhere?” Arnett asked.
“I doubt anything happens in that club that Hartley isn’t aware of, including the decals that show up on the bathroom stalls. A guest may even have struck up a conversation about it with him, especially if the rest of the members enjoy discussing the Lucifer Lost principles as much as Brad did. Easy enough to tuck the existence of Lucifer Lost into the corner of his mind for future use.”
“Brad himself may have been here,” Arnett said.
Jo glanced down at her phone. “I’m guessing we’re not going to get a phone call back this late on a Sunday night. And we haven’t heard back from Marzillo, which means they’re still processing.”
“So there’s not much more we can do tonight.” Arnett fired up the engine. “I say we head home, get some sleep, and get a fresh start first thing in the morning.”
* * *
As much as she needed sleep, Jo also needed to check on Sophie. She’d been so close to reconciling with David, and the situation with Chelsea had shaken that up. Sure enough, when Jo drove past, the living room light was still on.
Sophie answered the door with her hair pulled back into an uncharacteristically messy bun, remnants of make-up smudged over her face, and a nearly empty glass of red wine in one hand.
She stepped back to let Jo in. “This is a surprise.”
Jo leaned in as she passed to kiss Sophie’s cheek. “I was on my way home and thought I’d swing by. How are you doing?”
“I’ve been better, but I’m far better off than that poor murdered girl.” She led Jo into her newly repainted sage living room and gestured to the wine sitting on the coffee table. “Can I get you a glass?”
“No, thanks. I’m already tired, and I have to drive. Pouring wine on top of that isn’t wise.” She sat on one end of the couch. “You said you’ve been better.”
Sophie dropped on the other end and pulled a pillow into her abdomen with her empty hand. “I just—I don’t know. I’ve spent the last few hours trying to convince myself I’m being paranoid.”
“Paranoid how?” Jo asked.
“I know I overreacted earlier to Chelsea’s call. And I’m sorry for taking it out on you. But I’m telling you, she’s trying to get her claws into David.”
“I don’t think you overreacted. I was just as unhappy about her calling as you were.” Jo picked her words carefully. “But as much as it sucks, Chelsea already has her claws into David, and will for the next eighteen years minimum.”
