Dan shrugged. “Fine, Nancy Drew. You think you know who he is.”
“I know exactly who the Fulton Falls Ripper is.” I let him digest that little nugget and then ticked off the points on my fingers. “I remember the whole thing now. I was unable to move while Todd hung himself at the vampire’s command. The killer flew me to the swamp where he bit and drained me. Just before I died, he made the statement about strumpets tasting so good.”
Dan pursed his lips. “You were found in the woods sixty miles from the nearest swamp.”
I gave him a bitter smile. “Not too far for a well-fed bloodsucker to fly though, is it? Besides, as the saying goes, you don’t poop where you eat. It’s no surprise he dumped my body elsewhere. He likes his victims to be found, for his judgments to be seen, and the swamp is too good at hiding things.”
Dan’s eyes widened. “The Judge is looking for an unknown vampire in the swamp. We need to warn him.”
“Indeed he is. But there’s one last thing, Dan.”
“What?”
“After I died, you brought me to the hotel to meet with Tristan and his staff. Remember that?”
“Yes.”
“That first meeting with the Judge, he called me a strumpet.”
Dan stared at me. He shook his head slowly from side to side even as reluctant realization bled into his eyes. “It can’t be, Brandilynn. You’re wrong. Next to Patricia, he’s Tristan’s most trusted assistant.”
“That’s why no one suspects him.” I gestured at the notes on the boards. “Look at the facts. Look at the personality. Then look at me. I saw his face, Dan. The Judge killed me and all these other women. Tell me you don’t believe that.”
Horrified one instant, furious the next, Dan grabbed my hand. “We need to find Tristan and Patricia.”
* * * *
We popped into the King George, bugging everyone we encountered about Tristan and Patricia’s whereabouts. It was still early in the day, but we needed to find them before they – and the Judge – went vamp for the night.
“What do you think will happen when Tristan finds out?” I asked Dan as we swept the hotel’s ground floor. I had to run to keep up with his long strides.
“He’ll want proof. The Judge has been part of Tristan’s inner circle for only a couple years, but he’s trusted with a lot.”
“A couple years, huh?”
Dan tossed a glance at me. “Just about the time the murders began in Fulton Falls.”
We didn’t check every single room, but we did look around enough and talk to plenty of people to be reassured the siblings weren’t at the hotel. Dan didn’t pause to think about his next move. “Let’s try the theater.”
Before I could ask what he was talking about, he grabbed my hand and we blurred to that location.
Fulton Falls’ Ritz Theater had been a crumbling wreck only ten years prior, its former grandeur losing the fight against neglect. The whole Main Street of downtown, once a hub of Woolworth’s and a drugstore with a real soda fountain, had gone the path of so many downtowns in the wake of the shopping mall and Wal-Mart. Then the Concerned Citizens Contingent, determined to restore the dilapidated area to its former glory, came at the county commission armed with petitions. Their biggest champion to the cause was none other than Commissioner Tristan Keith, who’d not only backed their plans, but led fundraisers to revitalize Main Street and bring the businesses back.
Woolworth’s was gone, as well as the drugstore that had boasted a real soda fountain once upon a time. Alman’s Young Ladies’ Apparel, where my mother had bought my sister and I matching white lace dresses for long ago Easters, was also firmly lost to the past. Replacing them were locally owned restaurants, antique stores, a fine art
gallery, and a really good wine and cheese shop. Tiny landscaped squares with fountains rose between the more widely-spaced buildings, and people often lingered there with picnic lunches, or buskers set up to entertain with music, magic and balloon animals.
The Ritz remained, restored to its 1950’s glory. Even the original rusted marquee had been overhauled rather than replaced, and the big light bulbs shone at night once more when theater season got underway or when a musical recital was held there.
Dan brought me to the old theater, and I gasped to find myself at the bottom of the Ritz’s grand staircase with the massive chandelier overhead. The mauve walls hung with original art and gold decorative trim were a sumptuous feast for the eyes. You could almost believe you would go from the lobby into the theater and be transported back to a time when vaudeville ruled. The Ritz was the crown jewel of downtown’s revitalization.