Page 52 of Speak of the Devil

But when she went to the website of one of the local news stations, she wondered if maybe it had been such a great idea to get caught up on what was happening in the world around her.

Mystery Bodies at Morgue Stump Authorities,the headline read, and Delia let out a breath. While she’d known intellectually that you couldn’t just have a bunch of skeletons appear at the medical examiner’s facility and not send up a forest of red flags, she supposed she’d hoped that maybe they wouldn’t broadcast those details to the press until they’d had a little more time to investigate.

Apparently not.

But the article made it clear that neither the police nor the workers at the medical examiner’s office had any idea where the remains had come from, so she supposed that piece of information made her feel a little better. There really wasn’t anything to tie those skeletons to her and Caleb, since the two of them were the only people who even knew their true history. Maybe at some point, the medical examiner and his or her staff would be able to determine a cause of death, but she didn’t think they’d be able to extract much more information than that, not when the remains had been removed from the crime scene and so much time had elapsed since those women’s murders.

She and Caleb sure wouldn’t be talking…not because they’d done anything wrong, but because she knew there was no way they could explain how they’d gotten the skeletons out fromunder the floor of his home’s lower level without jackhammering the thing into oblivion.

And that didn’t even take into account the little detail of getting them from Pueblo Street into the coroner’s office without anyone noticing.

No, it was one of those crazy mysteries that would occupy the local media for a day or two until something just as sensational came along.

Even as she was about to navigate away from the news station’s website and over to the Weather Channel’s site so she could check to see whether any more rain threatened in the forecast, her phone rang.

Robert Hendricks’ number.

Delia hadn’t expected to hear from him again so soon, not when they’d both agreed that they would give things until the end of the week before she decided whether to continue with their demon search.

Well, she already knew she didn’t want to do this anymore and was only humoring Robert because he’d made it clear that he thought she needed more time, but still.

“Hi, Robert,” she said. “What’s up?”

“I have something you need to see,” he replied. “Can you meet me at the business offices at the Dunes?”

She’d wondered where his office was located…if he even had one at all. He’d been sort of hazy about exactly where he worked, although it seemed clear enough that he was just the spokesman for a group of concerned casino owners and managers.

“I have a client coming to the office in less than an hour,” she replied. “Can we do it after that, maybe around five-thirty?”

A pause, and she wondered if he was going to tell her no, that wouldn’t work, that the matter was urgent and he needed to see her right away.

But then he said, “Five-thirty should be fine. Just tell one of the security guards at the Dunes that you’re there to see Robert Hendricks, and they’ll take you up to my office.”

“Sounds good,” she responded. “Sorry I can’t meet you sooner than that.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. “I understand that you have other clients you need to attend to. I’ll see you at five-thirty.”

They ended the call there, and she returned her phone to her purse, a little mystified.

Just what was so important that Robert needed to see her today after work, rather than waiting until tomorrow morning?

Well, she supposed she’d find out soon enough.

Her four o’clock meeting — to help an older couple put the family home on the market and find them a condo for their new, downsized lifestyle — went faster than Delia had expected, so she probably could have met Robert at closer to five than five-thirty. However, they’d already agreed upon the time, so she decided to roll with it and show up as scheduled.

She’d known the traffic would probably suck, and she gave herself a little cushion for the drive over to the casino. Good thing, because even though she didn’t see any accidents like the one from a few days ago between the big black truck and the white Mazda SUV, enough cars still choked the streets downtown that she barely made it to the Dunes on time.

Once there, she followed Robert’s instructions and went over to a security guard, telling him she had a meeting with Mr. Hendricks. At once, the guard — a friendly Black man who looked like he was probably around ten or fifteen years olderthan she — guided her over to the elevator and took them up to the tenth floor.

Not the penthouse, which of course would need to be a luxurious suite designed to cater to the casino’s high rollers. Still, the tenth floor offered some breathtaking views, especially as the wintry dusk shifted into full dark and the lights on the Strip really came to life.

“Here you are,” the security guard told her, and pressed the button on an intercom set into the wall next to the office suite’s door. “Mr. Hendricks? I have a Ms. Dunne here to see you.”

“Send her in,” came Robert’s voice, and the security guard nodded at her even as a faint buzzing sound told her the door had probably just been unlocked.

“You can go inside now.”

She thanked him, then put her fingers on the door handle and pushed down. Immediately, the door swung inward, letting her into an office that showcased more of those dramatic views, with a big glass and steel desk at the far end of the space.

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