I didn’t know why they were bothering. Clementine, Opal, and Dixon were dead. So were a good portion of the giants they’d conned into helping them. The ones who’d left the rotunda when the shooting had started or had been outside guarding the moving trucks were being rounded up right now, and the few who’d piled into the trucks and raced the vehicles across the bridge and over onto the mainland shouldn’t be too hard to track down, thanks to all those photos and bios Clementine had posted on her website.

The only person who’d gotten away clean was Clementine’s boss, whoever that was.

Oh, she had certainly acted like she was in charge, and she’d had all of her crew fooled into thinking that this was just the beginning of the giant uprising she had planned for Ashland. But too many things about tonight didn’t quite add up. Namely, the fact was that there was no reason for Clementine to break into the museum vault just to steal Mab’s will—unless someone else had hired her to do the job in the first place.

My eyes roamed over the crowd of folks still in the rotunda. Unless I missed my guess, Clementine’s boss was here tonight, hidden among the rest of what passed for high society in Ashland. I wondered if he was studying me right now, wondering how much Clementine had told me before she’d died. He would have been pleased to know that she hadn’t said a word about him, but that didn’t mean he’d never be discovered. In fact, I had some ideas about exactly who had orchestrated the heist and why. I just needed to get Finn to check into a few things for me.

But that could wait until tomorrow. Best to let Clementine’s employer think that he’d gotten away with it, at least for a few days. Let him relax his guard and go about his business. Let him think that he was in the free and clear and that no one was coming after him.

Let him think that no one would ever figure out what he’d done—because that’s when I’d finally strike.

I stood off to the left side of the rotunda. The familiar creak-creak-creak of wheels sounded, and a few seconds later, the coroner pushed a metal cart inside the round room, followed by some assistants with several other carts. All the evidence had been gathered, and now it was time for the cleanup to start.

The coroner and his assistants all gave me solemn, respectful nods when they passed. Well, that was something new and different. Although I suppose they had a vested interest in my activities. The more people I killed, the more overtime they clocked.

Gin Blanco, the Spider, Ashland’s newest cottage industry. Yeah, that was me, all right.