“It’s not going to be easy.” The detective looked disgruntled. “The Middleton boy’s parents picked him up and took him home to Indiana. The Huizenga boy’s been sent off on a church retreat.” He slid a piece of paper from a file. “And the Vanderheis have lawyered up on behalf of both of them. They’ve already given sworn statements. Looks like anything further’s going to take a subpoena. And given the fact that our key eyewitnesses are, um, undines, that could be a problem.”

“What the hell is wrong with these people?” the chief said in frustration.

“I don’t think they want to know the truth,” I said quietly. “Parental instincts are telling them they’re not going to like it. And I have a feeling they’re right.”

Chief Bryant heaved a sigh. “Despite the collegiate culture of prolonged adolescence, in the eyes of the law, those so-called boys are grown men. One way or another, they will be held accountable. What else have you got, Tim?”

The detective ran a finger over his tidy mustache. “A possible lead on another known associate of the elusive Ray D. According to one Bruce ‘Red’ Henderson, a member of the Outcasts currently enjoying a stay in the county correctional facility, Ray D had recently acquired an unusual lady friend, a fellow ghoul by the name of Mary Sudbury. Where you find one, you’ll find the other. Red was quite adamant on that score.”

“Ring any bells?” I asked Cody.

“No,” he said. “My contacts weren’t as forthcoming. But it’s definitely worth checking out. Your undines did say there was a man and a woman in that boat. What about the bartender? Jerry Dunham?”

“Now, there’s an interesting character.” Tim Wilkes laid a file on the table. “A bit of a drifter, it seems, and he’s fairly new in town. A handful of priors, six months served on an assault charge four years ago in Seattle. Here’s the interesting part: Until it closed, he was a carny with Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow.”

Cody frowned. “Now, that does ring a bell.”

“They applied for a permit to hold a performance here a couple of years ago,” the chief said. “The town council turned them down. It wasn’t exactly, ah, family-friendly entertainment.”

I was intrigued.

Detective Wilkes nodded. “It was billed as an old-fashioned sideshow with live freaks and geeks. They traveled on a national circuit, but they were based in Seattle. Late last fall, the Seattle authorities shut them down on charges of abusing and exploiting the performers.”

“Whereupon this Dunham decided to move to Pemkowet and begin consorting with ghouls?” Chief Bryant said sourly. “It doesn’t add up.”

“Seattle has an underworld,” I said. “Where else did Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow perform?”

Wilkes checked his notes. “Larger venues, mostly. Chicago, New York, Denver . . . a few oddities, too. Fresno, Leavenworth. Nothing as small as Pemkowet.”

Cody and I exchanged a glance. “They’re all sites in the U.S. with functioning underworlds,” he said.

My skin prickled. “So there’s an eldritch connection. I bet there was something in that sideshow that wasn’t human. Oh, hell! I’m sure there was. It’s right there in the name.”

Everyone looked blank.

“Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow?” I said impatiently. “It’s a reference to The Last Unicorn.”

“Let me guess,” Cody said. “A movie?”

I successfully fought the urge to glare at him. “As a matter of fact, yes, but it was a book first. My mom read it to me when I was a kid. The Midnight Carnival was a traveling sideshow full of illusion, but it had one true thing in it.”

“What was it?” he asked.

“A harpy,” I said.

He raised his brows. “Now we’re looking for a harpy?”

“No. I don’t know. We’re looking for something.” Glancing around the conference room, I could see I was losing the crowd. “I’m just speculating, okay?”

The chief propped his chin on one meaty fist. “All right. Where are we on the aquarium angle, Tim?”

“Still tracking down leads,” the detective said. “We’ve got a possibility or two, but we’re waiting on the ichthyologist’s report on the scales found under the Vanderhei boy’s fingernails. That will help us narrow it down.”

“Okay.” Chief Bryant dislodged his fist from beneath his chin and looked at his watch. “Let’s run with what we have. Cody, Daisy, I want you to shake down this Dunham character, see what comes loose. Just be back in time for the funeral.”

Cody nodded. “Both of us?”

“No, just Daisy.” The chief leaned back in his chair. “Cody, Bart’s out with the flu, and I’m going to need you back on patrol tonight. But see if you can’t chase down a lead on Mary Sudbury. Have the two of you looked into this Masters of the Universe business yet?”

“No,” Cody admitted. “Sorry, Chief. We still haven’t had time.”

Chief Bryant leaned forward, his chair creaking beneath the shift in bulk. “Let’s make it a priority. Might be something more substantial if we need to subpoena the witnesses for further questioning. In fact . . .” His deceptively sleepy gaze slewed my way. “Daisy, maybe it’s best we don’t go to the funeral together. Let’s keep your options open.”

“So you don’t want me to go?” I asked hopefully.

He dashed my hopes. “Oh, I want you to go. Just not with me. If we need to go nosing around Triton House later, it might come in handy to have a pretty girl who can pass for a college student.”

“The family’s already seen me,” I reminded him. “Huizenga and Middleton, too.”

“Since the vic’s friends are under wraps, I’m assuming they won’t attend. The Vanderhei family will have bigger things on their minds. That leaves plenty of others who couldn’t ID you, including this Matthew Mollenkamp. It’s worth a shot.” He levered himself to his feet. “Cuypers and Sons, two o’clock. Don’t be late.”

I sighed. “I won’t.”

Dismissed from the conference, Cody and I exited past the protestors and drove to the address for Jerry Dunham that Stefan had provided us.

It was a run-down little rental property a few miles north of town. Not only was Jerry Dunham in residence, he was in the driveway doing something mechanical to one of the most beautiful motorcycles I’d ever seen. It was a vibrant, glossy red, the color deep and saturated, with a teardrop-shaped gas tank, sweeping oversize fenders, and a black leather seat with rivets around it. I actually felt a pang of regret when Jerry scowled at the sight of us and dragged a cover over it.

“Jerry Dunham.” Cody peered past him into the garage, where the covered forms of two more bikes lurked, along with a third that was uncovered, a gleaming black number. “Mind if we ask you a few questions?”

Jerry picked up a remote and closed the garage door. “Yeah, Ossifer. I do.”

“Got a reason to?” Cody asked.

“No.” He wiped his hands with a greasy rag. “Don’t need one.”

“Stefan Ludovic said you gave the Vanderhei boy Ray D’s phone number.”

“So?”

“When I showed you the boy’s photo, you said you hadn’t seen him,” Cody said mildly. “Why’d you lie?”

Jerry shrugged and tossed the rag onto the driveway. “I must’ve forgot. All them college boys look alike.”

“You get a lot of college boys in the Wheelhouse?”

“Some.”

Wow, this was a scintillating exchange. Since it didn’t seem to be going anywhere, I decided to try blindsiding Jerry. “Hey, I’m curious. What was the star attraction in Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow?”

There was the slightest of pauses before he turned his flat, dead gaze on me. “A headless chicken.” Somehow, the casual lack of menace in his tone made it all the more menacing. He made a slicing motion across his throat. “Little fucker got the ax, but it was still alive. Used to run around and flap its wings, trying to peck at shit without a head. We fed it through its gullet with an eyedropper. You should’ve seen it, blondie. You’d have loved it.”

Okay, ew!

“So the circus closed down and you lost your chicken,” Cody said. “What made you decide to move to Pemkowet?”

The bartender gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s say I had a taste for some wholesome small-town living.”

“Including acting as a go-between for a known meth dealer?” Cody pressed him.

Jerry shrugged again. “Some boys were looking for a man; I gave them a man’s phone number. None of my business what they did with it.” His face tightened. “Got ’em off the premises, didn’t it? So they wouldn’t offend Mister High Lord Muckety-Muck’s delicate sensitivities. A lot of thanks I got for it.”

“See, here’s the thing, Jerry.” Cody rested his hands on his utility belt, his tone taking on a harder edge. “I’m pretty sure you’re lying. And I’m pretty sure those boys weren’t looking for drugs.”

“See, here’s the thing, Ossifer.” Jerry mimicked his pose, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans. “I’m pretty sure I don’t give a flying fuck.”

I glanced at the windows of his rented house, slatted blinds drawn. “Have you got any houseguests, Jerry?”

“Nope.”

I cocked my head. “How about an aquarium? Do you keep fish?”

Another infinitesimal beat passed before Jerry unhooked one hand and scratched his opposite shoulder, the spiderweb shoulder. “No. Why would I? What the fuck would I want with fish?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “What did you want with a headless chicken?”