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“We need to make sure,” Connor said in a noncommittal way. “Did you ever see him? Do you know what he looks like?”
“Yes, I - I saw him." She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. "And she told me his name, but I've totally forgotten it. I was rushing at the time, wanting to be out of the house by the time he started working. And then when we had dinner again, she told me all about it but still didn't mention his name.”
“What did he look like?”
"He was tall, dark-haired, and maybe about forty years old. He definitely looked like an exorcist should look, if that's any help?" Lisa offered.
Even though they didn’t know his name, the fact that Lisa Court had contacted him so recently gave them a lead, Cami knew. She would surely have called him to set up the appointment?
If she got hold of Lisa’s phone and could open it, then they could track him down.
CHAPTER SIX
As soon as they’d left the apartment, Connor got on the phone. Cami knew he was going to track down Lisa’s cellphone. She was guessing that the phone might have been processed at the local police station where the crime had first been called in, and that if it was ready and had been taken into evidence, they could get to it immediately.
But when he started speaking, Cami heard there was a problem.
“You’ve done what?” Connor asked, sounding incredulous. Then he sighed, shaking his head as they strode to the car. “No problem. You weren’t to know. I’ll organize for it to be taken back again.”
Climbing into the car, he turned to Cami. “The two victims’ phones have already been processed and released and were sent straight to the Boston FBI office. Seems the local police were a step ahead, at the wrong time for us.”
“Oh, that doesn’t help,” Cami said, knowing that for now, the FBI office was a no-go area. The police’s efficiency had worked against them, in a surprising twist.
“I’m going to ask my office to send them back to the local police station where we've just been. That'll allow us to locate this exorcist, hopefully. And in the meantime, let's go to the Hunger Stop, the diner where Debbie Maynard worked. The case report didn’t give us enough information on her, but she was new in town and lived alone. Seems like her workplace is a good place to start.”
Cami nodded. That made sense. In fact, the workplace might be where Debbie had met the killer. Perhaps there was already a person in common. Exorcists had to eat somewhere, right, Cami thought, feeling encouraged. Maybe Debbie had met this creepy guy, too, in the course of her work. The diner wasn't far away from where they were now.
Connor started up the car, and they headed out to the Hunger Stop.
The diner seemed to be in the mid-morning lull between the breakfast trade and the lunchtime arrivals. When Connor pulled up outside, Cami saw the parking lot to the right of the low brick building, with its large windows and neon signage, was only about a third full.
They headed inside, where the aroma of deep fried chicken and percolating coffee immediately hit Cami’s nose. The place seemed like a homey, local establishment, with red-uniformed waiting staff and white aproned chefs bustling to and fro. Cami guessed that the gray-haired woman at the till, who had an air of authority and was calling out something to one of the waiters, might be either the manager or the owner.
“FBI,” Connor said, showing his ID to her. Instantly, the woman’s face changed, tightening into grim lines.
“I’m the manager here and can help you. This is in connection with Debbie, isn’t it?” she asked.
“That’s correct, ma’am. We’re looking for information,” Connor said.
“Well, I’m glad it’s being taken so seriously,” she declared. “The poor young woman – new in town, and just starting a new life for herself.”
“Do you know why she was starting afresh?” Connor asked, instantly homing in on the salient point.
Cami was hoping there would be a reason that might link up to the crime, but the manager’s answer left her disappointed.
“She moved here to study. Her course was starting in March, and she was working until then for something to do and to make some friends in the area.
“What was she studying?”
“It was an accounting course, I think. Something in the financial sector that I do recall. She had a good head for figures, and she was also a very good waitress. Attentive, you know, with an eye for detail."
“She was young and pretty. Did any customers cause trouble, or try to harass her?” Connor asked.
The manager frowned. “We’re a family diner. We don’t have problems like that here.”
But Cami could see what Connor was thinking: that the words might be reflexive and that they represented an automatic denial rather than the truth.
“Perhaps there was something small?” he questioned. “Maybe a complaint or even something you heard about from someone else? Any problematic customers? It would be better to tell us if you do remember. Always helps to avoid trouble later.”
