Sand City Murders (56 page)

I  had also heard that musical noise just before, the bouncing of wrought iron under footsteps— someone coming up my spiral staircase, probably a tourist or an escapee from the Depot Cafe looking for a bathroom, or maybe someone seeking higher ground to use my terrace to get a better view of the bay. I wrapped my towel closer and went to investigate. And that’s when the furious barking started.

At first glance, the word fantasy came to mind, then dream come true, followed by, I cannot believe this… There was a young woman standing on my deck with her back to me. She was leaning against the roof looking out over Great Bay. From my vantage point, I could see long silky legs that led up to very short shorts. From there, a great toss of blond hair reaching half way down her back, and a lime green halter top. I slid open the door and called out, “Can I help you?”

She turned. She was a beautiful girl, tall, almost as tall as me. She smiled, not the least bit surprised and bent over to greet the little dog that went flying into her open arms.

“Roxy!” she exclaimed and lavished him with affection. She rose, dog in arms.

“Oh, you must be Mr Jardel,” she gave me a once over and smiled again. “You’ll do, I suppose…” she muttered quietly, but I heard her nonetheless.

I was surprised and a bit confounded. She took a step closer and held out one hand, the other was wrapped around Roxy. I shook it politely but all the while stared at her face. She was quite lovely.

“My father sent me to fetch you,” she said.

I could hear a slight French accent, I thought. “Your father?”

“DCI Fynn.”

I laughed, I’m not sure why. “DCI?”

“Well, he keeps promising to retire but he never will, I suppose.”

“And you are?”

“Oh sorry, I’m Anika, Anika Fynn… nice to meet you… Shall we?”

“What?”

“Shall we go?”

“Where?”

“My father needs to speak with you. He’s at home.”

“Sure, let me throw on a pair of shorts.”

Anika was politely appreciative as I locked up and followed her down the stairs. “Thank you for watching my dog,” she said in her slightly accented English. “I’ve grown quite fond of him already.”

“Sure, anytime… How long have you had Roxy?”

“We are new friends so to speak.”

“Do you know Alyson?”

“Of course, she’s a very good friend.”

“And Emma?”

“Emma, not so much. She frightens me a little.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s always so serious.” Anika turned with a bright expression. “But Alyson… she has told me a lot about you.”

“None of it good, I’m sure.”

“Some of it good.” She gave me a coy smile.

Anika wrestled Roxy into a carrier at the back of her Vespa, donned a white helmet, offered me another, and we set off across the Village. She seemed pretty good on two wheels, even with me and Roxy at the back. Clogged traffic was only a minor hinderance. She threaded us between stopped cars and bewildered tourists, expertly weaving and dodging. At the top of the hill she made a left and started along Dune Road. Once and a while she would turn to glance back, to make sure I was still there, I guess.

“Feel free to hold on if you need to,” she called out and twisted the accelerator. I was thrown back and instinctively wrapped my arms around her waist. She swiveled her head again and I could see that she was smiling now.

***

I was surprised when Anika went south onto Shore Road. I wasn’t at all sure of our destination now. It was not the Blue Dunes Hotel. She signaled and made a left into a small sandy drive that led towards the ocean beach. I could see a house up ahead, a low modern structure nestled in the dunes. It was a weathered gray paneled place painted with white trim. The whole house was surrounded by tiger lilies, now just blooming. I noticed lots of floor to ceiling windows as well, most of them faced the ocean. Anika pulled up to the front door. A refreshing breeze blew off the water.

“What’s this?” I asked once the helmet came off.

“Oh… our new home. We’ve finally moved in.” She smiled and went to get Roxy from the carrier. He jumped out and scampered into the dunes. A second later he was lost in the tall grass, and then came trotting back to the door, though he declined to come inside. Anika handed me a surprisingly heavy brown paper bag that jingled when I took it. “For father… would you mind?”

Inspector Fynn was relaxing in the oversized living room, sitting comfortably in a low contemporary sofa. He practically leapt to his feet, backlit by the stunning view, a panorama of South Point. He rushed over with an outstretched hand and a big smile.

“Well, well, Patrick… It’s so good to see you again. How is everything?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Yes, I suppose that is a good answer.” Fynn laughed a little. He put his arm around Anika and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “How is Roxy?” he asked her.

“He seems happy. I think your friend, Mr Patrick, took very good care of him.”

“Good, good… Did you manage to stop at the hardware store for me, my dear?”

“Of course… it’s in that bag.” She glanced at me.

“Thank you for remembering.” Fynn opened the bag and drew out a long length of metal chain.

I gave him a questioning look. “What’s that for?”

“Ah yes, this… something to string across our drive, to discourage curious tourists from coming up our little road.” He smiled. “And so… Patrick, welcome.”

“Thanks. Where exactly am I?”

“What can I get you? A drink? A bite to eat? Coffee perhaps?”

“An update maybe?”

“As you can well imagine, things are a bit different now.”

“How different?”

“Ah yes, where do I begin?” Fynn raised an eyebrow. “Most things are fixed, and of course, there is the Policeman’s Ball.”

“The Policeman’s Ball?”

“Yes. It promises to be a most exciting event.”

Anika said something in Dutch from across the room.

“English please, dear…” Fynn scolded gently. “It’s not polite in front of our guest.” Fynn turned back to me. “She said, you’ll do nicely… and she thinks you’re rather handsome.”

“Do nicely? For what?”

“Oh, I’m sorry… I was hoping you would be her escort to the Policeman’s Ball this Saturday.”

I was a little flustered. “I think I promised Eleanor already.”

“I see… perhaps we could trade dates then. Anika does not want to be seen on the dance floor with her decrepit old father.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Good.” Fynn put his hand on my shoulder. “We have much to discuss, I should think. Would you care to sit, or go for a walk?”

“Sit.”

“Please… be comfortable then.” Fynn led me back to the living room. I chose the sofa and stared out at the ocean. A summer storm was gathering. The sun was still shining, but I could see huge thunderheads massing along the horizon, dark gray clouds, drifting towards the shore.

“So… what’s with the house? It’s absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yes, rather nice… not something I could afford on a Dutch policeman’s salary.” Fynn laughed.

“Did you win the lottery?”

“No, but I have been rather lucky with my investments.”

“That’s for sure… Seriously, how did you get this house?’

“From the real estate agent, of course. It came on to the market unexpectedly and at a very good price. It was hard to resist.”

“Do you know who owned it?”

“The former owner? Yes… let me think… someone rather famous. Ah, I can’t think of his name.” Fynn called out to his daughter, “Anika dear, what is the name of that odd game they play here in America? Something to do with stealing and hitting people?”

“Baseball, do you mean?” she called back from the other room.

“That’s it.” Fynn smiled. “The game he used to play…”

Anika walked back into the living room and sat beside her dad. She looked over at me, smiling as well.

“Wow, you look just like your mom,” I commented.

She gave me a very strange look. “You knew my mother?”

“When she was young... Oh sorry, I mean the picture.” I reached into my shirt pocket and took out the polaroid Fynn had given me months ago.

Anika studied it carefully. “Oh, well, that is a slightly better explanation.” She got up and kissed Fynn on the forehead. “Father, I’m on my way to the beach to meet some friends. Can I take the scooter?”

“Of course, my dear. Drive carefully and have fun…” Fynn added something in Dutch and his daughter let off a giggle before departing.

“How much does she know?”

“Anika, you mean?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“About everything, your… well, your lifestyle.”

“Ah… She is very intuitive, quite like her mother. Sometimes I do wonder how much she understands.”

“I’d like to meet your wife, Lorraine, at long last.”

“This is not possible, I’m sorry to say.”

“What? But Anika is…”

“Lorraine was taken from us… Anika was just a child.”

“Taken?”

“Sadly... A terrible traffic accident in two thousand and two.”

“What happened?”

“Struck down by a car while visiting friends in London.”

“Oh my god…”

“Yes, it seems she looked the wrong way before crossing the road. A genuine tragedy.” Fynn fell silent for several moments.

“I’m very sorry to hear this.”

“Things have not worked out perfectly, I will say.” He gave me a rather solemn expression.

“Can you sort of start from the beginning? I mean, if there is a beginning.”

“Of course…” Fynn took a breath. “From the diner, I back-jumped as close as I could to July, nineteen seventy-seven.”

“A hard jump or a soft jump?”

“Indeed. I was here in Sand City at that approximate time, so it was a rather easy soft jump.”

“But I saw you disappear… from that diner...” I paused. “Oh, that reminds me… this is yours…” I reached into my pocket and returned his compass.

“Thank you, Patrick.” The inspector smiled. “Most curious that you saw me disappear.” Fynn eyed me. “And the good detective, or anyone else?”

“No.”

“It seems your memory is improving.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant. “What happened next?”

“I considered many approaches… one of them being a lock for Hector’s bicycle.”

“A lock?”

“Yes, simplicity itself. If the bicycle was not accessible, the crime could be thwarted.”

“Is that what you did?”

“No. It did not exactly serve my purpose. I wanted to prevent Lorraine’s death of course, yet I also want to catch Mortimer— and to do that, I needed to know where he would end up.”

“You mean here in the present, and trapped.”

“Yes,” Fynn said flatly. “In the end I relied on the two things I knew best: that the past would repeat itself invariably, as it always does… and my second rule of travel, tread lightly.”

“That sounds like a contradiction.”

“Exactly so. But such is the case when I encounter a dreaded time loop.”

“Dreaded time loop?”

“Reliving a past over and over again until the outcome is closer to what I might expect.”

“How many loops did it take?”

“Several… though no more than necessary, and thankfully not as many as I feared.” Fynn paused. “If I may…”

“Right, sorry.”

“…I knew that if I changed nothing, Mortimer would lose his cane again on his way to the present. Of this I was certain. Perhaps he hit a stone with the bicycle or dove into an unexpected patch of deep sand. Here I took a small risk: I made this assumption and it turned out to be true.”

“That’s lucky.”

“But I also had to tread lightly. If I drastically changed things, I ran the risk of Mortimer noticing, and it could very well be the end of my plan. I decided to change only one small thing… and I admit rather painfully, it was a selfish decision, indeed, almost heartless.”

“What?”

“I had to sacrifice Elaine for Lorraine.”

“Oh my god…”

“I observed that night many times, in secret you understand, to witness how the events unfolded. It was quite dreadful to see this occur over and over. But once I understood the exact sequence of events, I found an opportunity to intervene.”

“How?”

“It was a matter of position. Elaine was on the right side of the path, Lorraine was on the left. Mortimer grabbed his victim as a matter of convenience: Lorraine, on the left. My only task was to nudge her to the other side of the path.”

“And?”

“Ah, from the prickly bushes, I made a terrible howling noise… This was enough to startle Lorraine, and she ran to the other side of her sister. From there, that past unfolded exactly as before. This one small alteration was not noticed by Mortimer.”

“So, who is it a Sunset Park?”

“Sadly, Elaine…”

“What about the other murders?”

“Fixed, for the most part.”

“Debra Helling?”

“She’s fine”

“Clara?”

“Happy in Syosset.”

“Alyson and Emma?”

“Completely well.”

“They don’t remember anything, right?”

“Nothing at all of course.”

“Good.” I felt such a sense of relief pass over me. “Thank you.”

Fynn made a slight gesture.

“How did you fix it all, the rest, I mean?”

“Ah, well, from the bridal path, I jumped forward to the time just when Doctor Samuels was killed. I found the jackal cane in the basket and took it. I also turned on the light.” Fynn paused. “Of course, I adopted Roxy as well, and simply came forward to here, to now.”

“How did that fix things?”

“No jackal cane, no Roxy, no reason for Mortimer to go to the kennel. As simple as that.”

“What about Samuels?”

“A tragic fall… an accident, as the basement light was found on.”

“And Mortimer?”

“He is still among us, though I believe he is stranded again... Without his cane, he cannot make an accurate jump. So he stays. Trapped by his own fear, I would imagine.”

“What about Clara and Debra?”

“Since Mortimer cannot navigate, he could not go back and kill these unfortunate women again.”

“Wow… wait, what about Lucinda?”

“She does not seem to be present. She has certainly not been murdered.”