Merchants with Evil Intent (5 page)

      
I felt the impact from the bullet and
then burning. Teaghan’s face contorted in horror. Blood splattered onto her
green blouse. I tried to calm her, but then I realized it wasna me blood on her
blouse, t’was her own.” His hands shook as he took another swig from his glass.

      
“Dear God, Declan.”

      
Even now, no tears would form.

      
“Aye.
She started to collapse and I eased her to the ground,
grabbing me pistol from me ankle holster. I turned and watched the bastard walk
towards us. I pulled the trigger and shot him, but not before he shot me again.
As I was losing consciousness her last words were ‘Don’t leave me’.”

      
Colleen took the glass from him and
refilled it as well as her own. His hand shook as he reached for it, causing
him to hold out both hands to grasp it.

      
“Dec, you don’t have to tell me anymore,”
Colleen whispered.

      
“Gel, I’ve told you this much. I may as
well finish.” He took a swig from his glass and placed it on the oak side
table.

      
“I was in and out of consciousness for a
few days. One day I awoke and saw a man standing next to me bed. He placed his
hand on my forehead and told me I’d be fine. The odd thing about him was he
wore chain mail, like the knights used to wear,” he laughed bitterly and
continued. “I thought he was from the barmy ward and fell back to sleep. I
didna see him again until I was released from the hospital and back at me flat.
I was sitting in front of the telly and he walked straight through my front
door.”

      
Colleen raised her hand to her mouth, “An
accomplice to the guy that shot you?”

      
He grimaced, “Nay, he’s a feckin’ ghost.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn arrived at work at six in the
morning. She got a cappuccino from the office kitchen and headed to her
cubicle. She plopped down on the threadbare chair and switched on her computer.
Waiting for it to boot up she sipped her drink and looked at the pictures of
the missing girls pinned to her cubicle wall.

      
What did they have in common? Their hair
colors varied as did their height. They were slim, attractive and under the age
of twenty-five. She couldn’t find a connection between friends or enemies.

      
Maybe the interview with the Yates family
would produce something that might link the women together. She scribbled
questions in her notebook and reviewed her other interviews to refresh her
memory.

      
She thought of Lt. Dan Hartwell in
Missing Persons and quickly dialed the phone. She waited patiently as the
operator patched her through.

      
“Lieutenant Hartwell,” he answered.

      
“Hi Danny, Camryn
O’Mara.”

      
“Well, I’ll be! How are you lovely?” he
laughed.

      
She teased, “You’re a charmer!”
 

      
“I’m always in a charming mood when you
call. What can I do for you today?”

      
“Any new missing
women?”

      
He sighed, “Yeah. We received word last
night. It’s a runaway from Iowa. Name is Samantha Hunter.
Caucasian,
eighteen years old, blonde hair, blue eyes.
We don’t think she’s related
to our other missing women though.”

      
“Why not?
She’s
under the age of twenty-five, she’s white, pretty.
Seems to
me there’s a possibility that this case is related.”

      
“Hey, who’s the cop here?” he teased.

      
“Only saying that it shouldn’t be ruled
out,” Camryn sighed.

      
“We’ll do our jobs and you do yours.”

      
“Who reported her missing?” she asked.

      
“Her mom.
Samantha ran away because dear old step-dad was molesting her. She called a
friend when she got into Chicago a few weeks ago.” He sighed heavily. “I gotta
go. We may have another missing woman.”

      
She pulled the receiver away from her
ear, stunned.
Another one?

*
     
*
     
*

      
Viktor arrived at the flower shop,
dressed in his best cop suit.

      
“How can I help you,” asked the matronly
shop keeper.

      
He shot her his smoothest grin. “I’d like
a bouquet for my girlfriend.”

      
She walked towards the flower cooler. “We
have pre-made bouquets.”

      
Viktor looked at the choices and shook
his head. “My lady is special and I don’t see anything in there that suits
her.”

      
“I can arrange a fresh bouquet. What are
her favorite flowers?”

      
He shrugged, “I’m not sure.”

      
“What about these?” she offered, as she
picked out a bunch of yellow daisies.

      
He scrunched his nose.

      
She tapped her forefinger to her chin and
paced around the store. She chose a combination of orange and pink carnations
as well as purple asters and alstroemeria’s.

      
He studied her while she arranged the
flowers until she formed a perfect bouquet. She held it up for his approval.

      
He crossed his arms over his chest and
brought his left hand to his chin. “I think those will do.”

      
He perused the rack of cards and chose
the most suitable one and scribbled a message, sealed it and handed it to the
shop keeper. He paid the bill and gave Camryn’s business address and left the
shop with a smile on his face. The flowers would smooth everything out.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Declan stumbled into his sisters kitchen
shortly after ten in the morning. Colleen sat at the kitchen table hugging a
mug with one hand and her head with the other.

      
He took a mug from the cabinet and poured
himself a cup. She didn’t stir when he pulled out the chair next to her.

      
He took a gulp of coffee and placed his
hand over hers. “Coll, aboot last night, thanks. I didna think I’d feel better
talking, but I do.”

      
Through bleary eyes
she
half-grinned. “I’m glad. No wonder you’re always brooding.”

      
“Brooding?” he questioned.

      
“Aye.
You were a
gobshite.”

      
“Mayhap when I go back I won’t be a
brooding gobshite,” he teased.

      
She cast him a grin and looked
thoughtful. “This ghost…”

      
“Sir Eoghan,” he corrected.

      
“Right, Sir Eoghan. Has he mentioned why
he haunts you?”

      
Declan looked out the patio doors and
watched the boys playing on the swing set.
“Nay.
Just happy that I could see him.”

      
“Can you touch him? Does ma see him?”

      
Declan thought for a moment. “Ma hasna
mentioned anything and I’ve certainly no’ said anything to her. Thought I was
going barmy for a while. As for touching him, aye, I’ve tried to throttle him a
few times and me hands always go through him, ‘tis frustrating, that.”

      
Colleen let out a hearty laugh. “Leave it
to you to try to choke a ghost!”

      
He shrugged, “He gets on me nerves!
Always tellin’ me I’m a horse’s arse for one reason or another.” Colleen
stifled a laugh and he continued. “He’s a likeable sort, tho’ I won’t be
tellin’ ‘im.”

      
“Hearing of him makes me want to visit,”
she sighed deeply.

      
“You should. Ma would love to see you and
the boyos. I’m sure she’s tired of seein’ me and Ian all the bloody time.”

      
“How is she?”

      
“She’s doing well. She handles the bed-and-breakfast
for the most part. She loves tellin’ buzzies the history of the home. Did I
tell you I had the roof re-thatched a few months ago? I decided to restore the
home as much as possible.”

      
“I’ve seen the pictures on the internet.
I’m not surprised you’re doing well. The tourists must love the place.”

      
He nodded in agreement. “What’s on the
agenda today?”

      
“We’re going to show you Chicago.”

*
     
*
     
*

      
Camryn returned to the office after
interviewing the Yates family.

      
She didn’t discover new information, but
took names and phone numbers of friends and classmates. Mrs. Yates cried during
the entire interview.

      
She left their house determined to do
what the cops couldn’t.

      
Find the bastard responsible for the
missing women.

      
She was irritated walking into the office
but more so when several of her co-workers followed her to her cubicle. She
didn’t know why they were acting strange until she spied two large paper
wrapped items on her desk.

      
Camryn looked around the office suspiciously.
She’d never received flowers at work.

      
“C’mon, Cam!
Open the cards!” Tamara Youngblood urged.

      
Camryn and Tamara shared a dorm room in
college and became fast friends. Camryn was going for an English degree and
Tamara leaned towards journalism. Cam teased her that she should be making the
news, not writing it. She was model material because she was tall, had long
silky black hair, hazel eyes and light brown skin which made her look exotic.

      
Later, both signed up to write for the
school paper. After graduation, with help from the school department heads,
they landed jobs at the same Chicago newspaper.

      
Camryn hesitantly took the card from
Tamara after she ripped it off the largest arrangement.

      
By now a small crowd had formed near her
cubicle.

      
She opened the sealed envelope and
smirked. The card showed a cartoon of a man crawling from a dog house. It read,
‘Sorry about last night. You mean the world to me. Love, Viktor.’

      
Tamara read the card over her shoulder
and sighed. “He’s gorgeous! It doesn’t matter what he did.”

      
Ellie, Paul’s secretary, ripped the paper
from the flowers. The flowers were pretty, but it didn’t dispel Cam’s
uneasiness with Viktor.

      
“Poor bastard must’ve royally screwed up
to send two bouquets,” Josh Taylor whistled.

      
She shot him a glare. He was the office
asshole and everyone knew it, except for him. He was married and cheated on his
wife, often.

      
Tamara handed her the other card from the
small wrapped bouquet after shooting Josh a dirty look.

      
Camryn opened the envelope and her face
went blank.

      
“Cam, what’s this one
say
?”
Tamara asked excitedly.

      
The words clogged in her throat. “It
says, ‘You’re next’.”

      
Tamara pulled the card out of her hand
and read it silently. “What the hell does that mean?”

      
Ellie ripped the paper off the second
bouquet and a quiet hush blanketed the office as the group gaped at a bouquet
of black roses.

*
     
*
     
*

      
Declan looked for her when he toured the
museums and walked the streets of Chicago. Even though the chance of seeing her
was remote, he hoped.

      
After one dance with her, he
hoped
.

      
He considered approaching her after the
ceilidh, but changed his mind.

      
She had a boyfriend. Plonker or no’, she
was taken.

      
But Jaysus, there was something aboot
her.