Sand City Murders (55 page)

“What did you do next?”

“I didn’t know what the fuck to do… There wasn’t a mark on her… looked like she was just sleeping. Suicide? Did somebody dump her here?”

“Who would that be, Eddie?”

“How the hell do I know? It wasn’t me.”

“Is the freezer locked?”

“No.”

“Who has access?”

“Jesus, I guess anybody.”

“So you’re saying anyone could walk off the street and stick a body in there? You don’t have any security or anything, cameras, video?”

“Not really. I mean, we’re up and running just about twenty four seven. There’s always somebody here working.”

“In the freezer?”

“No, in the processing plant.”

“How come you didn’t call the police right then?”

“I called the bossman, okay? What would you have done?” Eddie glared back angrily.

“Who, Mark Cargill?”

“No, not him... Chamblis.”

“Alright. What happens next?”

“I call Chamblis and tell him. He comes over… ‘Holy shit,’ he says, and um, he kind of panics, I guess. Tells me to dump the body. No friggin’ way, I tell him.” Eddie stared at us both.

“Chamblis told you to dump this body?”

“Yeah, and he threatened to can me right then and there…” Eddie paused. “So then Chamblis thinks about it for a second, and then says he’s going straight to the cops.”

“He didn’t though, did he?”

“No, he called some guy.”

“What guy?

“Cargill?” I asked.

“No.”

“You sure it was a guy? Not a woman?”

“No… a guy, definitely, but he barely said two words, like: ‘okay… see you later, you owe me now…””

“Who was it?”

“Somebody on his cell, Jason or somebody…”

“Jason?” I asked.

“Maybe it wasn’t Jason, maybe it was Jasper, or Casper the fucking ghost. I don’t know.”

“Who is he?”

“Hey, I don’t know who the fuck it is, a business associate, that’s what Chamblis said.”

“Have you ever met him?”

“No. But they talk on the phone a lot… I think he’s helping Chamblis with this Woodlands thing...”

“Who, Dean, his lawyer?”

“Could be…”

“Was he surprised to find the girl?”

“I’m not a goddamn mind reader.”

“Seriously…”

“Okay, I think he was just as surprised as me. Turned white as a fucking sheet.” Eddie glanced at us both. “Said he needed to think… Okay, I’ll tell the police, he says, only let’s be smart about it. I don’t want bad PR on this… Then he sends me packing.”

“That’s it?”

“Never said another word.”

“Like a week later, I read about the body up at Sunset Park… I guess somebody dumped her there for you guys to find.” Eddie glared at Durbin. “But I had nothing to do with that.”

“On her mother’s bench? Are you kidding me?”

“Her mother? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who is she, Eddie?”

“How the hell do I know?”

“So you think Chamblis dumped her there?”

“He doesn’t have the balls. He’s a fucking wimp. He wouldn’t do any of this unless someone told him to.”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know... the guy on the phone?”

“What were you looking for Eddie, that day on the bike trail?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“I thought you wanted to come clean.”

“Okay, yeah. Chamblis sent me up there… I’m supposed to find this cane.”

“Cane?”

“Yeah, like a walking stick… a dog’s head on it or something.”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Did you find it?”

“Nah.”

“Look Eddie, I think you’re a swell guy. You keep your nose clean, you work hard and you play a mean bass guitar. And I don’t want to cause you a big hassle here. But you know, the law says, you are an accessory to murder.”

“What the hell, Durbin?”

“You are. That’s what the law says. Now, if I had a little cooperation, I might look the other way, you know, not press charges. Call it a case of misplaced loyalty…”

Eddie looked at us both.

“I don’t think you’re a bad guy, just in over your head,” Durbin continued.

“Okay, you’re right, I kept getting into deeper shit. Chamblis says if I didn’t help, I’d be guilty, just like you said, an accessory after the fact. So he tells me to break into the garage.”

“Break in?”

“Just a peek inside.”

“What was he looking for?”

“Any kind of ID, he said.”

“Not a troll?” I asked.

Eddie glared at me. “A troll? Are you freaking kidding, Patrick?”

“What about the auction?”

“He told me to buy the car no matter what… take it to the car wash and get it detailed.”

“Then what?”

“That’s all he said.”

“Time to have a little chat with Chamblis.” Durbin grinned. He seemed to relish the idea.

“Good luck with that,” Eddie said.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s gone. Went to France or someplace.”

“Like a vacation?”

“I guess.”

***

We made it to Fairhaven in record time. Route 16 cleared out ahead like waves before a bow. I was seriously thinking about trading in my old Saab, or finding an option package that included flashing blue lights and a siren. I don’t think Durbin said two words the whole ride.

“Did you ever follow up on Helen Moriches?” I finally asked.

“Shit…” Durbin said. He palmed himself in the head. “I totally forgot about that.”

“What about Fynn?”

“I’m going to let him go,” he said as we exited towards the courthouse.

Fynn met us in the lobby. He looked no worse for wear and had changed into fresh clothes. Durbin had all his stuff: money belt, wallet, watch, and compass. He greeted us warmly and with a smile on his face.

“You’re free to go… It’s all been a terrible mistake, I sincerely apologize, inspector,” Durbin told him.

“How can you make it up to me?” Fynn asked with a grin.

“What?”

“Are you not going to ask how you can make it up to me? Your terrible mistake...”

Durbin hesitated. He wasn’t used to blackmail, however sweetly presented. “Okay, what do you want?”

“I want my Policeman’s Ball. It’s the least you can do after arresting me… ”

“Fynn,” Durbin started, “we got eight dead people and we look like the Keystone Cops right now… That’s gonna be a tough sell to Arantez.”

“I understand completely. But if all these killings are at one hand, and that man is apprehended? What then? Your problem is solved and so is mine.”

“I’ll see what I can do…”

“I will do the same.” Fynn smiled pleasantly.

In lieu of the ball, Durbin took us out to lunch at the
Dubious Diner
. It was really called that, and it was really the least Durbin could do. The air conditioning felt good though. We were all hot and sticky. The three of us asked for coffee, only Fynn chose to order a sandwich after studying the menu for some minutes.

“Bologna, I think.”

“White, wheat or rye?”

“Such a choice? Hmm, white, please.”

“Mustard or Mayo.”

“Yes to both.” Fynn smiled at the waitress and turned his attention to Durbin and I. “Well gentlemen… what news do you bring? I want to hear everything.”

Between the two of us we updated Fynn on Eddie, Chamblis, and the fire at Saint Alban’s. Durbin handled the information about the Pontiac, Roxy, corpsicles, and the newly identified Jane Doe’s. Detective Durbin also had a few questions of his own, mostly about the name Mortimer. I was curious to see how Fynn might wiggle his way out of this, but somehow the notion of time travel never entered into Durbin’s mind. And Fynn was wonderfully evasive, using phrases like,
quite perplexing
and
this is beyond all understanding
. In the end Durbin did not seem completely satisfied with his replies. I asked further about Eddie.

“It cannot be him… he’s not tall enough and his hair is not right,” Fynn said.

“How do you know?”

“You introduced us on the bicycle path some time ago.”

“Right.”

“And the cane?” Fynn asked and looked at both of us. Durbin and I glanced at each other. “You’ve not found it then?”

“No.”

“The shoes?”

“No.”

“I see…” Fynn paused. “And where is Mr Chamblis and Doctor Hackney?”

Neither could be located at the moment.

“I do wish I could meet these men in person.”

“Are they suspects?” Durbin asked.

“Perhaps not, but I would very much like to eliminate them.”

With that, a thought struck me and I was able to call up pictures of them on my phone. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of this sooner.

Fynn looked at the tiny screen, squinting. “I can’t say either one is especially familiar to me. I can’t be sure of course… but I would say they are not Mortimer.”

Durbin’s cell rang. He excused himself saying, “bike patrol,” and wandered down the aisle to take the call.

I turned to Fynn immediately.

“Why did you send me there?”

“Where do you mean?”

“Saint Alban’s.”

“What did you find?”

“I’m pretty sure you can guess.”

“I cannot.”

“I found myself.”

“Perhaps it is only one of your relatives?” Fynn countered.

I stared hard at him. He promised never to lie to me. “Fair enough… but what does it mean?”

“I cannot be sure. Is that the only name you found?”

“No… I found Pagor, Woods and James…”

“This may be important then.”

“Does the name Julius Valenti mean anything to you?” I asked.

“As in Doctor Valenti?”

“Yup… same guy who built the place… I heard he disappeared in the early sixties though.”

“Well, this is most enlightening.”

“You know something about Valenti?”

“Can you not guess who he was?”

I thought for a moment. “You’re saying he’s Mortimer?”

“I am saying nothing, though it seems to be a likely conclusion.”

“You’re not saying I’m Mortimer’s accomplice?”

“Nothing of the sort.”

“What are you saying then?”

Durbin returned and sat down. He looked at us both, acutely aware that he was interrupting something. I could tell he was dying to know what we were saying. Then Fynn took out his compass and started fiddling with it, turning the dials and looking out the window as if to determine where the sun was.

He finally spoke again: “I think you’ve given me enough to take action now. I believe I can fix this. Thank you. All that remains is catching Mortimer… and his agent.”

“Are you leaving?” I asked. Durbin looked at me, confusion filled his face.

“Yes,” Fynn said and put his compass on the table. “Can you keep this safe for me?”

I was a little confused as well, but took it and put it in my pocket. “Will I see you soon?”

“I sincerely hope so…” The inspector smiled. “Patrick, anything else that needs fixing while I’m away?”

“No, just the girls please.”

“Very well. I will see you at the Policeman’s Ball.” With that, Fynn quite suddenly stepped up onto the seat, and then onto the back of the booth itself. Durbin’s expression was priceless. Everyone else in the Dubious Diner was just as shocked, or perhaps outraged. Fynn faced roughly south and leapt. He disappeared before reaching the floor, that is, he just blinked out of existence.

I had to stop and think what this meant for a second… the two modes of travel… If Fynn had just jumped to the future, everyone would have noticed. They would’ve remembered him. Here one second, gone the next… I looked at Durbin. He seemed oblivious. I glanced around the diner; everyone else was as well.

“More coffee, gentleman?” the waitress asked.

“Thanks,” Durbin looked up and gave her a squinty grin. He turned back to me. “What was I saying?”

“You were talking about the Policeman’s Ball and Arantez.”

“Oh right, so… I go up to Arantez and said, who is this guy, a…”

No, this was a jump to the past… no one else noticed, but somehow I did, at least this time. In a couple of days, things would be different, absolutely, and Fynn would be back sooner than later. Maybe he jumped to the past to do a
vase thing
.

chapter 35

hard knocks

Sweltering is not a strong enough word but it was definitely hot that day. A good beach day to be sure, if I could get out of my apartment. Downstairs was the center of raucous activity. The cafe had filled with summer visitors, tourists, all laughing, talking, eating, clinking forks and knives without a care in the world. All the noise blended together by the time it reached me, and I found it strangely comforting.

Apparently though, upstairs, my apartment was a sublet: a cat, a dog, and now a family of raccoons had moved into the eaves, much to the distress of Zachary. Happily neither of us have met the father. We could hear the mom though, and her pups scuffling around behind the walls most nights, and an ungodly mewing noise. Her kids lived under my kitchen sink. I met them one morning when I opened the cabinet door for a some cleanser. Surprised? Yes. But there they were, four of the cutest raccoon cubs you ever laid eyes on. They all looked up at me in tandem with equally guilty looks, though they weren’t really guilty of anything in particular. It was all in the bandit-like markings. I said hi to them all, but quickly closed the cabinet door as soon as I heard their mom scurrying through the walls.

Upstairs, we were all suffering, my menagerie and I. The AC was out… again. Well, when I did turn it on, it made a horrible rattling noise like the fan was scraping up against something metal. My attic apartment was like a furnace. I had already called the landlady twice, but she was one busy real estate agent, booking summer rentals, I guess… and she probably worked for Chamblis Enterprises anyhow. Maybe this was some kind of weird payback. It wasn’t even quite ten o’clock and already hotter than I could bear— the leftover from one of those summer nights that had never cooled off. There seemed to be no getting around it today though, I’d have to turn on the air conditioner or die of heat stroke.

My one chance for relief was a tepid shower. I thanked my lucky stars that I was the only creature presently not covered with fur. Sopping wet, I was temporarily cool at least, standing in the back of my hot box apartment, in the bathroom, pretty much oblivious to the world, and just letting the fan cool me off. Then I thought I heard someone knocking on my sliders but couldn’t be sure.