Written by Maya, Sat Jul 11 20:26:42 US/Pacific 1998
Part 2
"You MacGregor's next of kin?" Mosely enquired.
"A distant cousin," McLeod said. "I am also the executor of his will. I have a copy here," he said, extending a sheet of paper. "He wanted to be cremated."
"Sorry, we can't release the body yet. We're still investigating the circumstances of his death. Maybe you could help us."
"If I can, though I'm not sure how much help I would be," the blond man replied.
Grace noticed that several of the usually busy police officers in the area had paused 'casually' within earshot. There were some extremely curious eyes and ears focussed on the stranger in the trench coat. It was not really surprising, Grace thought. There was something about the man, something almost alien, a compellingly magnetic aura of power that she had never encountered before. Yet there was a stillness about him, as if the frenzied activity around him flowed past him without touching the core of the man, as if he carried his own envelope of calm around with him.
Mosely alone appeared untouched by the strangeness of the man, as he continued to question him. "Any idea why your friend was found in alley with a sword in his hand?"
McLeod shook his head. "Ian collected old swords; and he was interested in Kendo, he Japanese style of fencing. But I don't know why he was in the alley."
"You ever hear of a guy named William Grant?"
The blond man frowned. "Not that I can recall. Why? Is he connected with Ian's death?"
"Mm-hmm," Mosely said non-commitally. "Did MacGregor have any enemies? Someone who may have wanted him dead?"
There was not even a flicker in the still, sad eyes. "Ian was a solitary man, much like myself. He made few friends, but I would not have said that he made enemies, either."
"You were close?"
"As close as two men can be when living in different cities, Lieutenant. Of course we were business associates as well, so we spoke on the phone at least once or twice a month. And neither of us have any family left, so there was a bond, yes."
"I'd like you to take a look at a couple of things here, if you don't mind," Mosely said.
Grace retreated quickly into Mosely's office. She was followed in a very short time by the detective and McLeod. Before the policeman could say anything, McLeod walked up to the desk, his attention on the exquisite katana.
"That's Ian's sword."
"You've seen it before?" Mosely asked, too casually.
"Of course. It was the pride of his collection. It is a genuine 15th century piece, you know."
"Really," Mosely said, as if the experts had not already told him the same thing. "How can you be sure?"
McLeod smiled almost sadly. "I *am* an antique dealer, after all. I collect swords too. And I've seen this particular one several times. It's unmistakable." As if tiring of the subject, he turned an enquiring gaze on Grace.
With a peculiar grimace from behind Mcleod's shoulder, Mosely did the introductions.
"Ms. Nakimura," Mcleod nodded. "I read your book. Most intriguing. Quite a novel approach to the subject."
"Thank you," she acknowledged. "Are you interested in the paranormal?"
"A little. Actually, I read a great deal, about all sorts of subjects," he said with a deprecating shrug.
Finally responding to Mosely's urgent surreptitious gestures, Grace 'remembered' an appointment elsewhere and got up to leave. "Nice meeting you," she said in parting.
"The pleasure was all mine," McLeod disclaimed politely.
"I'll see you later, Frank," Grace told Mosely meaningly.
Back at St.George's, she was still thinking about Connor McLeod and the two murders. She had a hunch about this case, and she was sure that Connor McLeod had something to do with it. Her glance fell on the telephone, and she abruptly made up her mind.
"Schloss Ritter," came the familiar response.
"Gerde, it's me."
"Grace! How are you? We really miss you. When are you coming home?"
Home, Grace thought smiling. Yes, Schloss Ritter was her home now. "I'll be here a few more days, Gerde. Is Gabriel there?"
"No, Grace. Actually he was getting so restless here without you around, I suggested he make a trip to Munich. He was supposed to take care of some business there, anyway." There was a distinct smile in her voice. Grace smiled ruefully. "Getting on your nerves, was he?"
"He has been a little irritable since you left for the States," the German girl agreed. "Not that he would admit it! Do you need to reach him? I have his number..."
"No, it's not important. I'll call him on Saturday. Just tell him..." she hesitated. "Tell him I'll be back soon."
"I will. Take care."
So that was that, Grace thought. Actually, she felt an odd reluctance to tell Gabriel about this case. Knowing his annoyingly protective attitude, he would probably panic and fly straight down to New Orleans if he heard she was looking into a couple of bizarre murders. But in the meantime...
An hour later, she was scowling at her computer screen, which displayed the results of her dial up query to SIDNEY. There were several mentions of decapitation as a means of execution. For instance, it was an approved method for laying vampires to rest. However, Grace was sure this case had nothing to do with vampires, werewolves or anything that she had ever dealt with before.
There were some even more tantalising incidents recorded in the database. For instance, there were at five separate and seemingly unrelated instances recorded since the early 1900s, where a decapitated body had been found with a sword lying near it, in the United States. Two of the incidents had been in New York, one in 1912, the other in 1976; one in Portland, in 1952; and the two most recent ones were both in Los Angeles, in 1987 and 1991. The peculiar similarity consisted in the weapon apparently used: one with a jagged or serrated edge had left traces along the neck. The victims had been otherwise unmarked by wounds or scars.
"It's not possible," Grace said to herself. "The same killer? It *could* be some sort of secret society, with ritual executions; or maybe a copycat killer."
She sat back, pondering the possibilities. It was as if some vital clue was missing, something that would make all the pieces fit. On impulse, she did a search on "Connor McLeod". To her surprise, SIDNEY turned up a journal entry that mentioned the name. Johann Ritter had written about his meeting with a man named Connor McLeod in 1765, at the French Court. The man was a clock maker by profession, and he had apparently helped Johann to rescue a young woman who had been wrongfully condemned as a witch.
"Coincidence", Grace told herself. "There have to be lots of men with that name." She got up and walked back down to the shop, noticing that the customer traffic was still steady. Then she froze in surprise when she noticed the man browsing at the 'First Editions' section. Connor McLeod.
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