The Night Is Alive (28 page)

“Actually, I’m not a cop. I’m a civilian and I thought I heard you screaming on your yacht. I went out to see if you needed help. I saw that scarf, and took it in case you’d been kidnapped or injured—one victim was a man, you know—and it meant something. I gave it to the police.”

“That’s the biggest crock I’ve ever heard,” Aldous sneered.

Malachi shrugged. “Maybe. We know you have all the right credentials—and a rowboat and a scarf with a victim’s DNA.”

Aldous shook his head. “But...it’s not me. I didn’t do it.”

“So, how did your rowboat wind up loose and how did the scarf wind up on your yacht?”

“I don’t know! I’m telling you, someone put them there,” Aldous said. “I swear to you, I know nothing about that scarf.”

“Who else is on your yacht on a regular basis?” Malachi asked.

“I have a cleaning crew that comes in once or twice a month.” He paused. “There are ten berths there, so one of the other owners could have gotten on my yacht. And, then, of course—”

Aldous broke off. He looked ill.

“And then, of course—what?”

“Gus, Bootsie and Dirk. The three of them had keys to the dock,” he said. “They’re my best friends. They were always welcome on my yacht.”

Something cold hardened inside Malachi.
Aldous could be lying, trying to shift the blame.

But he didn’t know; he didn’t have a definite sense that yes, he was guilty, or no, he was innocent. He believed Roger, and even though he wasn’t completely certain, he leaned toward believing Aldous.

That left Dirk or Bootsie.

Or...

Someone else who was always at the Dragonslayer, someone who knew everything about the way it ran, day in and day out.

Grant Green, Macy Sterling, Jerry Sullivan.

Macy? Doubtful—unless she was someone’s accomplice. Grant? Not around during the day. And yet, that could mean he was able to be anywhere else, without even having to slip away.

Jerry Sullivan, the bartender, friendly, ever listening, knowing everything and everyone. Always there from lunch until closing.

“Aren’t there any cameras around that river that might’ve been aimed at my
Lady Luck?
” Aldous asked him. “I’m telling you—someone was on my boat and planted that scarf.”

“Say it was planted, and the police didn’t do it. Who would it have been?”

Aldous shook his head, lost and dejected. “I...I don’t know. All I can tell you is that I’ve never attacked anyone, I just happen to be bald, and I don’t have any fantasies about being a pirate,” he said.

“I’m going to see what I can do for you, Aldous.” Malachi got to his feet.

“You’re going to let me go?”

“I’m going to ask that you stay here for the moment. They’ll get you some coffee.”

“Yeah, sure, if it’s going to clear me. I’ll drink coffee and play Tiddlywinks all night if it’ll make you people believe me.”

“Great. I’ve got to go.”

Malachi was anxious to be on the move.

They only had one real connection to the killer. Helen Long. He had to talk to her again.

There had to be some clue in her story. There was something he should be seeing clearly, but couldn’t, not yet. The answer to the riddle was in the back of his mind somewhere; he just hadn’t figured it out.

Tap.

Tap, tap.

Tap, tap, tap.

14

“P
irates were really bad, right?” a little boy asked Abby, his smiling mother beside him. She might have been portraying a girl who was an utter nitwit, but the audience seemed to have sympathy for the damsel in distress.

“Hmm. Well, yes, piracy is bad. There are still pirates out there today, and they’re very bad,” Abby said, crouching down to his height. “But Blue Anderson walked a middle ground. He started out as a privateer. That means, more or less, that he was asked to be a pirate.”

“People can
ask
you to be a pirate?” The towheaded boy stared at her, eyes wide.

“Back then, we weren’t a country yet. We were a group of colonies governed by the English. England and Spain always seemed to be at war. So the king or queen of each country would allow men to seize ships—as long as they were ships that sailed under the enemy’s flag. So, Blue was a privateer to begin with. He never did seize an English ship. You remember the story in today’s show? He actually saved the crew of a foundering ship, but kept Missy because he thought he was owed something for his work.”

“What happened to Blue?” the boy asked.

“Tyler, you’re driving the lady crazy,” his mother said apologetically.

“Not at all,” Abby assured her. “Blue never begged for a pardon, but he wasn’t a bad guy. Legend had it that the Royal Navy could have sunk his ship several times, but they let him sail by. Whether that’s true or not, I don’t know. One day he sailed out—and he never came back. No one heard from him or any of his crew again, so history records that he was caught in a storm at sea and went down with his men and his ship.”

“Wow, cool!” Tyler said. Gripping his mother’s hand, he asked, “Can we go in there—to Blue’s tavern—and have lunch? The menus for kids are supposed to be
pirate hats!
”

“Paper pirate hats, but yes,” Abby told him.

“Yes, lunch!” his mother said. “Come on now. Thank you...Missy.”

Abby grinned. “My pleasure.”

Standing, she looked around. Will Chan was heading into the restaurant; Jackson Crow was keeping an eye on her and talking on the phone.

Roger and Paul were still talking to tourists.

Aldous, she knew, was at the police station.

She went into the restaurant herself—and saw Dirk just ahead of her and glanced at her watch. The
Black Swan
would have finished the first tour of the day.

He was probably on his way to the bar for lunch before the second tour.

Abby quickened her pace. The show was over; she wanted out of Missy Tweed’s voluminous gown and into her own clothing—and she especially wanted her Glock.

She walked into the tavern. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimmer light.

Grant and Macy were at the host stand, talking. She assumed Grant had come in to make sure that their return to the Saturday-morning theatrical events went smoothly.

But, as she watched, Grant gave Macy a kiss on the cheek. Macy walked over to the bar where Bootsie and Dirk were now seated together. She sat down next to Dirk and let out a sigh.

“How was the show?” she asked.

“It went very well,” Bootsie said. “Very well. You and Grant are keeping everything moving along. Gus would be pleased.”

“I’m relieved.” Macy shrugged. “Why I thought anything would be different...I don’t know.” She sighed again. “I miss Gus.”

Abby hurried over to where Macy was sitting. “We all miss him,” she said.

“Oh, Abby! I didn’t see you there.” Macy turned, touching Abby’s arm. “I’m sorry—I mean we all miss Gus, but he was your grandfather. We don’t have the same right to miss him that you do.”

Abby smiled at that. “Macy, you were just as much family. Miss him all you like—and I’m grateful that you do!”

“I wish you were staying around, Abby,” Sullivan said.

“You don’t need me,” Abby assured him.

Grant came striding over, watching the host stand as he did, but grinning. “We have to let her move on, you know!” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I think love is in the air.”

“Love!” Bootsie scoffed. “Love? Who are you in love with, young lady?”

“Tall, dark, handsome and somewhat mysterious—seems to almost read minds,” Grant said, teasing Abby.

“Love! Bah. Abby and that fed, they’re both cops,” Bootsie muttered.

“Cops fall in love,” Macy said.

Dirk winked. “And everyone falls in lust from time to time.”

“Come on, Abby,” Grant said. “What’s the deal with the tall, dark and handsome G-man?”

“You mean Malachi?” she asked innocently.

“Let’s hope—or else our girl’s become a home wrecker,” Dirk said. “I get the impression that the cute little blonde G-woman is with tall, dark, exotic actor G-man. And the pretty blondish one is with tall, dark, handsome and Native American G-man. That leaves intriguing G-man who’s staying up in the apartment.”

“Now, why would you be worried about my love life, anyway, huh?” Abby asked Dirk, avoiding the question.

“We’ll always worry about you, Abs,” Bootsie said.

“We’re like the great-uncles you’re really glad you never had,” Dirk told her, which made Abby laugh.

“Hey, I’m just the bartender,” Sullivan said lightly.

“You guys know I dreamed about working for the federal government, that all my life I wanted to be an agent,” Abby said. “You know I’ll go back to work with a unit, wherever I’m assigned.”

“Yeah, but I looked this unit up,” Grant said sagely. “They’re the Krewe of Hunters.”

“What does that mean?” Bootsie asked.

“They ask the dead questions—and the dead help them find the killers,” Grant explained.

Macy giggled at that. “Seriously? Come on, Grant. The one woman is a medical examiner. If they could talk to the dead, she’d just ask the corpses who...who turned them into corpses. Oh, I sound terrible—I’m concerned, really. I’m grateful you found Helen, Abby, and praying that Roger’s girlfriend will be found, as well. But it’s not looking good for her, is it?”

“We don’t have any real answers,” Abby said.

Bootsie made a sound of derision. “All those feds and cops—and nothing. You people, all that schooling—and a pirate’s walking all over you.” He raised his beer. “Ask the dead questions, my ass!”

“Bootsie,” Dirk remonstrated quietly.

“It’s just us here,” he said. He looked around. “Hey, where’s our third? I haven’t seen Aldous all day.”

“I’m sure he’ll be around,” Sullivan said, pushing away from the bar to get a drink order from one of the waitresses.

“Yes, I’m sure he will,” Macy agreed.

“Hey, you make a great wench, Abby,” Grant told her.

“Gee, thanks. Which reminds me, I want to go and get out of this now.” Abby turned but then paused, looking back. “Do me a favor
,
will you, Macy? Why don’t you and Dirk go out on a date instead of staring at each other all the time? It’s not like you just met or anything.”

Macy’s face went bright red. “Abby!”

Dirk was silent.

“Now there’s a sensible question,” Bootsie said. He gave Dirk a nudge. “Here’s your chance, boy. Ask her out.”

“Um...” Dirk said.

Macy found her voice. “Dirk, I don’t know what these people are doing, but don’t you dare feel obliged to ask me anything.”

“I don’t feel obliged, Macy.”

“Good.”

“But...we
should
go out sometime. To a restaurant. We’re in a restaurant. I mean, a different restaurant. One where you’re not working. Or we could go dancing. Or...”

“Dirk Johansen, are you asking me out?” Macy demanded.

“I guess I am. Except you don’t have to feel obligated or anything. I’m not trying to put you in a bad position—”

“I would
love
to go out with you, Dirk!” Macy said.

“Thank God! That’s settled,” Bootsie said. “Now, can we get back to sitting around the bar and bitching about everyone we see? Macy, shoo! Go back to work.”

Macy smiled and walked back to the host stand. Grant took a seat at the bar.

“That,” he announced, “was really cool. Good work, Abby!”

“Thank you, thank you. Now, I’m finally going to get out of this ridiculous outfit!”

Leaving them at last, she ran up the stairs as quickly as she could, encumbered by the skirts that had defined her as Missy Tweed for a few hours.

* * *

Helen was doing much better.

When Malachi arrived, her police guard was seated in the hallway, reading the newspaper.

Angela Hawkins was in the room with Helen, as were her coworkers, Jack and Blake. They were still in their pirate attire from the morning sail of the
Black Swan;
Malachi assumed that, like Dirk, they usually took the two hours between sailings of the “pirate” vessel to either have lunch or get their errands done.

Helen seemed to be beaming; she was, he thought, maybe a year or two older than Blake—the one who was so obviously—and awkwardly—in love with her.

But that afternoon, she was thrilled by his attention.

“Malachi!” she said, greeting him with a warm smile.

He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Helen, you look wonderful.”

“I’m feeling good,” she said. “And the doctor said I’m doing well, right, Angela?”

“He said you’re almost ready to go home.”

Helen frowned. “You need to talk to me again, don’t you, Malachi?”

“If you don’t mind,” Malachi said. “When you’re ready.”

“I think that’s a hint to the two of us, Jack, but that’s okay,” Blake said. He’d been sitting by her on the other side of the bed. “Jack and I have to get back for the afternoon sail of the old
Black Swan.
We’ll be back, Helen.”

“I may not be. Hot date tonight.” Jack grinned. “With a pretty, pretty—and I do mean pretty!—redhead who sailed this morning. She agreed to do me the honor of joining me for dinner this evening. So, my beloved colleagues, it might be tomorrow before I stop by. But I’ll bring you delicious details!”

“Get out of here! If she’s smart, there won’t be that many details!” Helen joked.

“I’ll be here tonight,” Blake promised.

“Thanks. You really help the time pass,” Helen said softly.

Blake beamed. He and Jack left, waving as they walked out the door.

Malachi sat next to Helen. Angela sat on her other side, taking her hand. “You’re very strong, Helen.” Angela smiled, encouraging her. She looked over at Malachi. “A therapist was in to see her. She’s doing brilliantly, he says.”

“He also said I’ll never forget,” Helen told him. “And he said...he said I’ll be able to go forward again, have a good time, even have a relationship again.”

“Of course you will. We’ll get him, and you’ll know we did it because of you. You’ll know you saved others. He had you, but you beat him, Helen,” Malachi said.

She gave him a weak smile. “It’s strange. I always thought I was so liberal. But if I had a gun and he was in front of me, I’d want to shoot him. I want him strung up, I want his skin flayed from his body...” Her voice broke.

“That’s human nature, Helen.” Malachi spoke as reassuringly as he could.

“Is it? I hope so.”

“Helen, I’m not a hypnotist or any kind of therapist. But I want you to try to relax when we talk,” Malachi said. “Angela is here. We’re both here. You’re protected. I know it hurts, that it’s painful, but I really need you to try to remember every detail.”

“I wish I could remember more,” she said. “I went into the church...and I remember the searing pain in my head—and then nothing.”

“And then, the lapping of water against a cabin. You were in a ship’s cabin.”

“I think so,” Helen said.

“What made you think it was a ship’s cabin?” Malachi asked.

“There was a lot of wood. Paneling. I was in a bunk.”

“Big cabin or little cabin?”

“Tight...it was a tight cabin. When he was in it, I could feel him as soon as he came in.” She kept her eyes closed.

“And you remember a sound?”

“Yes.”

“Tap, tap, tap?”

She frowned. “Yes, it was an odd sound.”

“Was he with you all the time when you heard it?”

“No...sometimes, he wasn’t.” She thought for a moment. “But...when I heard it, I was so afraid.”

“Why?”

“It meant he was coming for me.”

* * *

Up in the apartment, Abby turned on the television in the living area for company while she ran down the little hall to her room and changed out of her pirate clothing. She chose jeans, a T-shirt and finally a denim jacket—a perfect way to hide the Glock she didn’t intend to leave behind.

She was anxious to call Malachi and see what was going on. Had they found something that proved Aldous could be the killer?

Had Aldous confessed?

She felt shaky and weak considering the possibility. Aldous seemed like a good man, as well as a powerful one. He was rich, but he’d always spent a lot of time working for various causes. How could a good man, who was willing to donate his money and his labor when needed, prove to be such a heinous criminal?

But it made her shake, too—thinking that it could be someone she’d known most of her life. That she might have gone to school with someone who’d grown up to be a killer.

As she came down the hallway and went back into the living room area, she heard the television. She suddenly stopped; a newscaster, a sleek, attractive blonde, was speaking from an anchor desk while an insert on the screen showed a scene at the police station.

“While the Savannah police are not making any statements at this time, inside sources, choosing to remain anonymous, have stated that a suspect in the infamous River Rat murders is in custody and being questioned. The River Rat Killer—so dubbed because of his ability to disappear on the water or under the ground—is suspected to have taken the lives of one man and three young women, to have kidnapped and tortured a fourth young woman and may possibly be holding another captive, even as he’s being questioned by the police. While our information has not been verified, it seems that the city of Savannah may soon breathe a huge sigh of relief. Our source has told us that the evidence in this case is based on hard science from the forensic lab. We’ll be back with more information the minute it’s available. Stay tuned.”