Darkness on the Edge of Town Read Online Free Page B

the park or up at the Copper Queen Hotel conference room, doing what he did best: Talk.  Interviewing witnesses, being interviewed himself by the news crews from the Tucson and Phoenix network affiliates.  He could have them.
    Laura was almost past a red brick building when she saw something in the store window, partly shielded by an old-fashioned canvas awning, its candystripes faded to pink.  A doll, propped up against a metal trunk, legs splayed, hands together on her lap.  She wore a Victorian-style little girl’s dress. The dress looked like it had once been white but had been faded by the sun.
    The sign above the door said: Cooger & Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show and Emporium.  The antique shop sold twentieth century kitsch.  Melmac, Buck Rogers space ships.  A dim light came from the back of the store.
    Taped to the door’s window was a faded poster depicting whirling leaves on a dark sidewalk.  Laura remembered it from her childhood, the cover of Ray Bradbury’s book, Something Wicked this Way Comes.
    Evil had visited Bisbee in the middle of the night, like the locomotive in Bradbury’s book, bringing the dark carnival to the edge of town.
    She knocked on the door and it rattled in the frame.  No one answered.
    The shop next door was open, though, a tattoo parlor.  Laura asked the proprietor about Cooger and Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show and Emporium. 
    The heavyset woman looked up from tattooing the Virgin of Guadalupe on her customer’s forearm.  “Oh, that place.  Guy doesn’t show up much, kind of like a lot of shop owners around here.  No set hours, just every once in a while the door’s open.  Name’s Ted.”  She shrugged.  “That’s all I know.”
    Laura could find out who owned the shop tomorrow.  All it would take was a look at the city records.  She was about to walk out when another thought occurred to her.  “Did you do the tattoo for Jessica Parris?”
    “Hold her steady, Ramon.”  The woman put down a tool that looked like a dentist’s drill and bustled over to a filing cabinet behind the counter, handed Laura the file.  “She wanted the butterfly—very popular with young girls.  Turned out real nice.”
    “Don’t you have to get parental permission to tattoo a minor?”
    She gave Laura a look.  “In this case, her mama brought her in.  Her mama and her boyfriend.”
    Jessica had a boyfriend?  You know his name?”
    “Cary Statler.  He lives with them.  They took him in when his own mom left town.”

    * * *
    “So what do we know about this guy?” Chief Ducotte said.
    Laura, Victor Celaya and the eight members of the Bisbee PD were crammed around a table in the Bisbee Police Department conference room, an airless cubicle smelling of microwaved pizza.
    “The creep likes to play dress-up,” muttered Sergeant Nesmith.
    Nervous laughter.
    “I bet he’s done it before,” said someone behind Laura.  Sandwiched as she was between a young police officer named Noone and Detective Holland, she’d have to turn herself inside out to see who had spoken.   Holland had thrown his weight around, literally, making the most of his space and practically pushing Laura into Noone’s lap.  The molded plastic chair didn’t help her back much, either.
    She didn’t mind the chair so much as the feeling that this briefing was an exercise in futility.  Chief Ducotte had asked that the briefing include all of the Bisbee Police Department.  Laura remembered his exact words: He wanted “to foster an inclusive atmosphere” and make sure that everybody “was on the same page.” 
    Bottom line: He didn’t want his people to feel left out.  Even though they would be.
    Laura was well aware of the pressures the chief faced.  The safety of a city dependent on tourism had suddenly been breached, and logical or not, the chief would be blamed.  His job was to keep the town running smoothly, bring in revenue in the form of traffic tickets and fines, and maintain a