Page 30 of All He Takes
Nicky parked her car in front of Harriet Antiques, where the lights were on inside--and they could see Mr. Dumond behind the counter. Ken had called ahead and asked if he could come back down to the shop to meet them so they could look for further evidence, and without hesitation, Mr. Dumond had obliged.
Now, he was inside waiting for them. But Nicky was deep in thought, trying to work out what she thought was true and what wasn't. She tried to put herself in the position of Mr. Dumond--who seemed like a kind, old man, but who also might be a serial killer. It was difficult to reconcile the two ideas.
She and Ken got out. The sun had long since set over Pine Grove, but there were still cars to be seen, and people going about their business. Someone was walking a dog, and a few people were going into and out of the local bar. It was a quaint, peaceful town to live in, and Nicky might understand why an old man with a long history of mental illness would want to retire here. But did he really come here to start a killing spree? Was a seventy-one-year-old man capable of these heinous crimes?
Nicky didn't know. But she did know they had enough circumstantial evidence to bring him in for questioning.
And now, they had a name, too. They had a photo. They had a record. They had everything they needed. And if they could get him to confess, they might be able to move on this case once and for all.
But Nicky didn't know how to go about this. She didn't want to come on too aggressively and freak him out.
"Here's our game plan," Nicky told Ken. "We won't tip him off that we know anything is up with him at first, just prod and ask questions, and see how he reacts. We don't want to spook him."
"Agreed," Ken said. "If he's as unhinged as his file suggests... we don't want him to blow a gasket on us."
They got out of the car, into the warm night, and walked up to the store. Ken opened the door to the shop and went inside, and Nicky followed close behind. Mr. Dumond rose from behind the counter, a smile on his face.
"You're back!" he said.
"We are," Nicky said. "Thank you for coming in."
She glanced at the wallpaper. It was definitely the same as the wallpaper in the photo. Or, at the very least, extremely similar.
"I'm happy to help," Mr. Dumond said. "Please, sit down."
Nicky and Ken went to the table and sat down, and Mr. Dumond sat across from them. It seemed strange to Nicky to be talking to someone who might be a serial killer. She looked him over--calm, collected, friendly. It was hard to believe.
"I'm sure you're aware of the situation," Ken said.
Mr. Dumond nodded. "Yes, I am," he said. "I saw the news earlier. They found a photograph in another town. I guess my shop isn't the only victim of this crime."
"Right," Nicky said. "Unfortunately, we haven't ID'd the photographer yet, but we wanted to know if you could tell us anything about the type of Polaroid camera he was using. You have a lot of vintage cameras here, so maybe you can give us some insight on the make and model."
Mr. Dumond frowned. "Well, I'm not sure if I'm the best person to ask. I have quite the collection, but I'm not an expert on any of this. I'm sure you could ask a collector for a more informed opinion."
Nicky looked at Ken. She wasn't sure why, but there was something about his reluctance to answer the question that made her suspicious. It was almost as if he was hiding something.
"So, you don't know the brand of camera?" Nicky said.
"Not at all," he said. "I'm terribly sorry. I wish I could help."
"You're sure you don't know anything else about the culprit?" Nicky asked.
"I'm afraid not," Mr. Dumond said. "But I wish I could help." He looked down, genuinely sad. "I wish I could be of more use."
"Well, you've lived here a long time," Ken said. "Do you know of anyone in town who has an interest in these types of cameras?"
"Hmm, well, as I told you before, we get a lot of tourists, and I'm sure there are many photography enthusiasts in town."
Nicky looked around the shop as Ken asked questions, trying to spot anything suspicious, or any piece of furniture that might match something seen in the photos of the victims. But she saw nothing. The only connection was the wallpaper.
Maybe it was time to kick this up a notch.
"When did you have that wallpaper installed, Mr. Dumond?" Nicky asked.
"Hmm?" He looked around. "Oh... it was there when I bought the shop. The people who sold it to me said it had been there since before they had it too. It's an antique itself, you see."
"Right," Nicky said. "You said you lived here your whole life. Do you remember the different people who owned the shop before the people who sold it to you?"
