Meanwhile…

The elderly residents lounging in front of Sunset Gardens in defiance of autumn chill smiled at the gentleman who approached. They didn’t know his name nor recognize his face, but he was a handsome young man — young to them at thirty-nine years old — sharply dressed, with briefcase in hand. He looked like he was doing well in life, and that was worth a smile. 

Kevin Snyder smiled back, politely. He did not feel like smiling.

At the front desk, he signed in and let the receptionist know who he was and why he was there. She had been told to expect him and rang the Sunset Gardens director, a small woman who came out from her office and shook Kevin’s hand with two of her own.

“Mr. Snyder, it is a pleasure to see you. We didn’t imagine you’d be coming personally to retrieve Mr. Burton’s belongings.”

“My godfather and I were very close,” he said.

“Oh, of course, and very important to us as well.” The director continued to hold his hand well past the point of standard courtesy. “He was loved by everyone and will be so deeply missed.”

“He was special,” said Kevin. “One of a kind.”

A tall man, one of the Sunset Gardens staff, approached them. “Lawrence! This is Lawrence, Mr. Snyder. “ The director waved him over and released Kevin’s hand so he could shake it. “He works in our kitchen. He was the last one to be with Mr. Burton before his passing.”

“How do you do, sir?” said Lawrence, taking Kevin’s hand.

“The famous Lawrence,” said Kevin. “My godfather gave your cooking high praise.”

“For real? Well, damn… I mean. I’m sorry,” said Lawrence, struggling to find the proper tone to address the CEO of Snyder-Finn Enterprises — especially with his boss right there.

“Thank you,” said Kevin.

The director said, “Mr. Snyder, I am putting Lawrence here at your disposal. If you want help boxing things or carrying them out, Lawrence is your man.”

Lawrence said, “Any way I can help, just name it.”

“Thank you,” said Kevin. “Thank you both. I think I’d just like a little time alone in his space if you don’t mind.”

“No, no! Not at all. I’ll let you in.” They both walked Kevin to what had been Edward’s apartment. The director unlocked the door for him. “You just take your time, and if you need some assistance, I’ll be happy to send him your way.”

“Thank you very much,” said Kevin. 

 The director returned to her office, but Lawrence held back. “Mr. Snyder, I just wanted to let you know… See, the night he passed…” He cast a glance over his shoulder to make certain the director had cleared the hallway. “I don’t think she’d want me saying this. I just got to, though, because I feel so bad.”

“It’s all right,” said Kevin. “I don’t think anyone could hold you accountable for my godfather’s passing.”

“Well, that night, he invited me inside with him. And I didn’t go because — man, I hope you don’t mind me saying this — I think your godfather was kind of… um… sweet on me…”

Kevin nodded, unable to suppress a smirk. “I think you may be right about that.”

“Okay! Now, he’s a nice man, and I do like our chit-chats and all that. I mean, I did like ‘em. But I didn’t think it was a good idea to go inside with him, you know?”

“I’d say that’s understandable.”

“It’s just…” Lawrence chewed his lip. “I keep wondering, maybe if I had been there when he had his heart attack… Like, maybe instead of just finding him there the next morning…”

What if Lawrence had joined Edward Burton that night? What would he have seen? Something that would have put him in danger too? Kevin intended to find out.

“Please, don’t trouble yourself over it,” he said. “You did the most anyone could have expected. And your cooking brought my godfather a lot of joy.”

Lawrence smiled at that. “Thank you,” he said and left Kevin to enter the apartment alone.

With a sigh, Kevin gazed across the little living space, with its relics from decades of adventure, artifacts of the legacy he now carried. Damn it, Eddie. Why couldn’t you let us do more for you?

Then Kevin set his case on the kitchen table and snapped it open, exposing the gadgetry hidden within. It was time to get to work. 

He started by withdrawing an earpiece from the suitcase, giving it time to connect to the Wrist Communicator he revealed by slipping off his jacket and rolling up his sleeve. Tapping a few commands into its touch screen sent a hailing call back to the Crypt. A crackling sound came through his earpiece and then a voice.

“Line secure, Specter Prime. Ready to receive.”

“Ready to deliver, Crypt. Deploy Haunts.” He took a step back from the briefcase, which began emitting a low buzz.

“Deploying Haunts,” said the voice in his ear. “Fly, my pretties, fly.”

From inside the briefcase, three tiny red drones rose into the air, came together in a triangular formation, and started flying toward the wall.

“This is a small space, Crypt,” said Kevin. “You got their flight patterns tightened up?”

“That I have, SP. Been running them on unpiloted drills through the manor’s passageways.”

“And how successful have these drills been?”

“Let’s just say, if they were getting graded, the Haunts wouldn’t lose their Finn Foundation scholarship.”

“Hooray for academic excellence. It looks like a little over 700-foot square. About how long will it take to map?”

“Not more than thirty minutes.”

“Okay, then. Collecting video. I’ll start with the doorway.”

He stood on a kitchen chair to reach the ceiling just above the doorway and directed his attention to a tiny dot that would have looked to anyone else like nothing more than an exposed screw. Drawing a Utility Pick from his Wrist Comm, Kevin took hold of what was, in fact, a tiny camera embedded in the ceiling.

With a whir, the Utility Pick unscrewed the camera, and Kevin set it down beside his briefcase. He then repeated the process with six other cameras hidden throughout the apartment. Once all were collected, he unclipped the plastic embedding sheath from one and inserted it into an input slot in the briefcase computer.

“Uploading doorway cam now, Crypt.”

“Receiving video data now, Specter Prime,” the voice responded. Then he sighed, “I just hate we had his security set up like this. These should have been broadcasting to us directly. We could have kept it on a constant feed.”

“You know how Eddie was about his privacy,” said Kevin. “And after everything he went through, I figured he deserved some peace more than we deserved a piece of him.”

“I know, but these cameras only keep about two hundred hours of footage. What if there’s something farther back we miss?”

Kevin didn’t respond. The computer showed the transmission progress ticking upward.

“Sorry, man,” said the voice. “I know. This isn’t the time for what-ifs.”

“It’s okay, Crypt. We’re all affected by this.”

“No kidding. I can’t believe Stephen is taking it so well.”

“What makes you think he’s taking it well?”

“I don’t know. I woulda thought he’d take some time off, but he hasn’t slowed down at all. If anything, he’s working longer days than ever.”

“What do you think Stephen would be like without work to occupy him right now?”

“Oh…” said the voice. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Kevin uploaded the video from the remaining cameras and then started looking over the apartment with his own eyes. The cleaning staff had come after the coroner removed Edward’s body. No one preserved the crime scene because no one else knew it was one.

Edward had a provision in his will stipulating that, upon his death, a sample of his blood should be made available to his next-of-kin, which at the time happened to be Kevin. What might have been paranoia in others was simple practicality for a crime-fighting legend.

Toxicology testing at the Crypt found Edward’s blood carried traces of aconite — also called monkshood, wolf’s bane, and “queen of poisons.” But Kevin did not alert the police. Edward’s killer would be easier to hunt if they did not know they were being hunted.

The voice came through his earpiece again, “Hey, Specter Prime. You got a friend reaching out on the private line.”

“Patch it through, Crypt.”

“It’s done,” said Esperanza Villagrana. “Your message is delivered.”

“Thank you,” said Kevin. “How did she take it?”

“Confused. Angry. Afraid. About what you’d expect.”

“Angry? Say more about that.”

“Angry about how things shouldn’t be like this, about how it isn’t fair, about how he’s the one who committed a crime…”

“Good,” said Kevin. “Those are things worth being angry about.”

“I have to say,” said Esperanza, “can’t see much reason to get too involved there.”

“You didn’t see what I saw, the way she handled herself. Both times.”

“Uh-huh,” said Esperanza. “I know that tone. Heard it from Michael when he started talking about a certain someone fifteen years ago. You’re not really doing this, are you?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing yet,” said Kevin.

“But you know what you want to be doing.”

“It’s early days,” he said. “We’re just getting to know each other.”

“No, you are getting to know her. She doesn’t know a thing about you.”

“And it wouldn’t be safe for her to. Not yet.”

“Kevin, I just…”

“Codenames,” he interrupted. “Please.”

There was a silence of Esperanza collecting her thoughts. “I just hope you are being careful. Once someone puts on the mask, it does not come off easily.”

Esperanza knew that better than anyone, and Kevin knew better than to argue with her.