Blout opened his second can and tossed me one, but I was already on my third. “Then explain this. How come you’re the only one who ever sees all this spooky bullshit? Can you tell me that? I never see any of it.”

“It’s right there in front of you. You just don’t accept it. I see it because I believe. Ain’t it the shit?” I stopped and gave a smirk. “But mostly because you’re not looking. You’ve seen it. I’ve seen you see it.”

“Bullshit.”

I looked around at nothing in particular. “Maybe, maybe not. Ignorance is bliss, right?”

I stood. This conversation could only turn ugly. It was time to get back to work. I looked around the room. My eyes were more or less adjusted to the cool light of the moon. I could make out the corners and some muddied colors.

Blout stood as well. “So what aren’t I looking for now? I know you’re after something here.”

“I’m trying to figure out where it began. Where was Cain when people started to die?”

Blout perked up. I’d finally given him something to work with. “In the report it said that the deaths started early, before noon.”

I snapped my fingers. “The bed.”

It was in the farthest corner from the front door, away from the window. The bed itself was crushed.

“It started in the morning. Cain started absorbing early and grew until the bed couldn’t support the weight.”

Blout had moved to the foot of the crushed bed, where he stood pushing debris away with his feet. “What do you make of this?”

I stepped to the end of the bed where Blout was looking down at the floor. There was a pentagram carved into the floorboards. I flashed my light on it as Blout kicked away more of the plaster and dust. Carved around it, smaller but no less prominent, were several other symbols: a Star of David, a pyramid, a cross, and several that were so badly carved I couldn’t venture a guess.

“Well?” Blout said. “How does this fit into your conductor theory?”

I shrugged. “It doesn’t, but it doesn’t discount it either,” I replied, lamely trying to cover my ass. “It just means Cain wasn’t getting his security deposit back”

Blout didn’t laugh. “I’m outta here,” he said and headed for the exit hole.

“Blout, wait. Just one more thing.”

I got his attention. He stopped and turned. “One more?”

“One more, then we get breakfast.”

“What is it?”

“I want to check out the basement.”

“See ya.”

I chased Blout halfway down the stairwell. He finally stopped on the ninth floor, not because I was pleading with him to stay and help, but because we were both horribly out of breath.

“You ask too much, Cal.”

“I know, but you want to solve this thing, right? You’ve got a morgue full of people who died under very strange circumstances. It stands to reason that the solution is going to be as strange as the crime.”