Red Tide: The Flavel House Horror / Vampires of the Morgue (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 2) (3 page)

“Ah, thanks boy. I like … I love you too.” Ian glanced at his four-legged best friend and smiled. “Scout, this is what’s commonly referred to as the calm before the storm, and you can bank on that.” Ian nodded his head slightly up and down in agreement with himself. He meant what he said, both actually and metaphorically; he was familiar with coastal climate, having recently lived for a time in Winchester Bay on the Oregon coast. Ian was growing more nervous by the minute about what was coming next. His nervousness had little if anything to do with the weather.

Introduction

As Ian and Scout drove through downtown Astoria, Ian decided that it would be best if he went to the Astoria Police Department.
Maybe if I speak directly to someone about the recent string of apparent totally exsanguinated victims, victims of obvious foul play, and ease into their thoughts a connection to that guy, Salizzar, and his club for weirdos … If I can get any cooperation from the police at all, that would be a good place to start.
Ian figured it would be best for him to find out quickly if the police were going to take kindly or otherwise to his nosing around about it.

“Scout, I sure hope Charlie called ahead and spoke to the cops about me like he said he would.” Scout paid little attention to Ian’s last words. He was busy looking out the passenger-side window at all the strange curiosities that new sights and sounds offered.

“Well, there it is, Scout. We’re here. The police station.” Ian took a deep gasp of air in a near-futile attempt to help alleviate some of his apprehension. Then he pulled his Jeep over to the curb and parked on the opposite side of the street from the police station.

“You stay here and be a good boy. I shouldn’t be long. I figure I’ll find out soon enough if they’re gonna roll out the red carpet for us or, more likely, try to run us out of town on a rail. Ha.” Ian let out a half-laugh, a sudden outburst of nervous tension.

Ian crossed in the middle of the street. Any remote possibility of getting ticketed for jay-walking right in front of the police department never crossed his mind.

As he stood at the front double-glass door of the station, Ian took another deep breath, then exhaled slowly as he proceeded through the doors. Once inside, he noticed immediately that the place appeared much larger and busier on the inside than it did from the outside. Ian thought to himself,
this community’s really not all that small. And look. Halloween decorations.

Within moments of standing just inside the entranceway, Ian was greeted by a female officer-receptionist. He was instructed to remove his keys, wallet, and belt, and stow them in a tray the officer handed him. Ian was then told that he could leave his shoes on and that the x-ray archway that had to be passed through wasn’t set to be super-sensitive. Ian graciously complied, then, when instructed by the officer, stepped through the small x-ray arch. Once through, he was promptly handed back his personal belongings and quickly put them all back where they belonged.

Ian then stepped up to the information desk to another officer “Hi … uh …”

The female information officer cut him off. “Sir, please sign in here, then state your business.” The officer flashed Ian a slight smirk as she tapped on the desk right next to the clipboard that was holding a sign-in sheet.

“Oh, yeah right.” After Ian signed his name and the time on the sheet, the officer picked it up and glanced at it. Before Ian could say another word, she said, “So you’re Mister McDermott? I’m going to need to see some identification, Mister McDermott.” Ian quickly retrieved his driver’s license and handed it to the officer. She glanced at it, smiled slightly, and handed it back to Ian as she said, “Thank you, sir. The chief’s been expecting you.”

Ian was surprised and relieved to hear that. Charlie had come through, as hoped.

The officer pointed to a bench across the hallway from her desk. “Take a seat over there. I’ll let the chief know you’re here.”

Ian did just as he was instructed. He’d been waiting for about twenty minutes and had witnessed the beginnings of two separate bookings of arrestees before he heard another officer, this one male, walk towards him and call out louder than necessary, “Hey you, McDermott, come with me.” The sound seemed to echo up and down the tiled halls.

Ian followed the officer down a short hallway. The officer stopped at a closed door near the end of the hall, then lightly knocked on the door that bore a bronze name-plate that read, “Chief William Mooney.”

“Come in, come in.” Someone within the office yelled out. Ian’s escorting officer opened the door for him, then pointed for him to go on in. The officer then promptly went on his way back up the hallway.

Once inside the office of the police chief, Ian quickly handed Chief Mooney his business card. Police Chief Mooney didn’t say a word; he glanced at it, then stared Ian up and down for a moment. Then the chief pointed to a chair across from his desk and motioned for Ian to sit down.

“So … you’re Doctor Ian McDermott. A Ph.D., are you?” Ian smiled and began to stand back up to shake hands. “No. No need to get up,” Chief Mooney again motioned for Ian to stay put.

“I got a call from Harmony Falls’ finest that you’d probably be paying us a visit.” Chief Mooney then leaned way back in his chair and put both hands on his knees. He seemed to be less than thrilled about Ian being there.

“I tell ya, Mister McDermott, I generally don’t take kindly to private investigators of the normal kind – or the paranormal. Poking their noses around in police business. And I’m not so sure what we got going on here fits into the realm of paranormal. But what’s been going on sure as shit isn’t normal, that’s fer goddamn sure.”

Ian started to reply but was cut off before he could get a word in edgewise. “No, now just bear with me while I complete my little speech. Anyway, like I said, under normal circumstances, I don’t much like private investigators of any kind. Typically, my experience has been they’re not worth whatever anyone pays them. More often than not, they tend to get in our way and often obstruct investigations that are much better left to professionals. That said … I said typically. But unfortunately, what’s been going on here in my town lately has been anything but typical.”

Ian shifted in his chair just a bit and almost spoke but then realized it was still not the time for him to say anything.

“Anyway, Mister McDermott … Like I said, I got a call about you from the newly-appointed Sheriff of Harmony Falls. One Mister Charlie Redtail. Now, I don’t personally know Sheriff Redtail from Adam. But I do – or better said, I
did
know who he used to work for. Bud O’Brien. One of the finest lawmen … Well, just a damn fine man.” Ian bowed his head just a little as he nodded in agreement to that.

“I met Bud at a law enforcement convention held in Portland a few years back. We got to jawin’ and drinkin’ one night and well … Hell, he was just a good man, and that’s that. So when Sheriff Redtail told me of how you helped bring down Bud’s killer; the same one that killed all those poor people … Well, that speaks volumes to me if you get my drift.”

Suddenly, Chief Mooney stood up and extended his right hand. Ian nearly jumped up out of his chair in response to the gracious gesture. Both men shook hands and smiled at each other.

“I’m sure you can imagine we have to investigate murders now and again. Not too frequently, I’m glad to say. Mostly either domestic violence or a drug deal gone bad. A hooker gets done in, that sort of thing. Never any related string of murders like this. No serial killer types. Not here. Not ever before this anyway.”

The chief looked Ian square in his eyes before continuing, “That said, I’m gonna do for you what I ain’t never done for no private investigator before.” Chief Mooney bowed his head just slightly for a second, then lifted it back up and stood tall. He looked Ian directly in the eyes. “I’ve been Chief of Police here in Astoria for over twelve years. Mostly all good ones … that is till lately. Ian, I’m gonna assign a liaison officer to assist you with limited – and I mean
limited
– access to the hard copy case files that we have regarding the strange and unusual deaths that we believe are murders, which have occurred over the last several weeks. I can’t have anyone seeing you messing around with our computers or looking over the shoulder of anyone using one, or even hanging around the place. The fact you’re here now is a little unsafe, so I intend to get you outta here fairly pronto. Now, most of the more gruesome details of the cases we’ve managed to keep out of the papers up till now. I expect that you will do me the courtesy of not speaking to any press person about any of this. And you will report anything that you might dig up directly to the liaison officer, who will then report directly to me. No one else. Understand? Have I made myself perfectly clear on this?”

Ian nodded and replied, “You bet. Perfectly! I understand.” He paused for a second, then cleared his throat. Ian didn’t know if what he was going to say next was going to be a huge mistake or not, but since the chief was being so openly cooperative, he too wanted all cards on the table.

“Um, Chief Mooney … one thing.”

“Yeah, what’s that?” the chief replied with a slight frown on his face.

“I … uh … I mean … I of course do private investigation, but I’m not actually officially licensed as such.”

“Mister McDermott. Can I call you Ian?” Chief Mooney said, smiling.

“Certainly.” Ian replied.

Chief Mooney continued, “I thought you were gonna start talking money. I don’t give gull-squat about anyone who waves a private investigator’s license around. Anyone can get one of them online for a couple hundred bucks or less. After I got that call from Sheriff Redtail, we did a little checking on you ourselves. You’re the guy who found that fish everyone thought was extinct, right?” Ian nodded, though he wasn’t sure where the chief was going with that little tidbit from his past. Ian was also growing very nervous regarding how he was going to demand, or rather ask, to be paid for his services. The chief was a large, intimidating man.

“Well, the way I see it, Ian, you know how to dig around to find clues. Ones that others might have overlooked. Maybe my department as well. I’m sure you got questions about what all’s been going on, especially regarding that group of whackos who’ve set up camp in my town. I tell ya, Ian, that guy Salizzar … if he and his attorneys keep spreading money around as thick and deep as they’ve been, I’m afraid he’s gonna have the mayor, and the entire city council for that matter, turning a blind eye on that shithole of his and the human refuse that’s coming to our town because of it. I’m gonna get you hooked up with an officer I’ve got in mind who can help steer you on track. One that you can report any findings to. He’s second in charge around here. You can ask him all the questions you got and are gonna have. I’ll let him know if we can help you, we will. By golly, ya know, this just might work. You’re not known in the area. It’s a lot easier for an unknown to go undercover as it were. But if my suspicion of that guy and his freak show is right on any level, you best be careful. I know you’ve got a piece and a license to carry it.”

Ian was stunned and unnerved at hearing that as he mused,
How the hell could he know about Ole Caretaker?
the name Ian had long ago given to his .32 Berretta. When he’d purchased it, it came with an ankle holster and was at this very moment stowed away under his driver’s seat.

“Don’t sweat it, Ian. Sheriff Redtail told me. Nothing illegal about the right of a private citizen to bear arms. Anyway, Sheriff Redtail told me how he temporarily deputized you, and your typical daily-weekly pay grade too for that matter. Anyway, he said how you helped him in a big way, bringing down that Gevaudan fella. So I trust you’re responsible enough. Now mind you, I won’t tolerate any sort of vigilante bullshit! You keep your head low and your weapon concealed and saddled. I don’t want to end up having to arrest you.”

Ian nodded. “Yes sir, I’m no hero, nor am I any sort of glory hound. Rest assured, I’ll report anything that I might find that is even remotely related or relevant to this terrible string of ...” Chief Mooney abruptly held his hand up, palm forward, to stop Ian from saying anything more.

“Listen, McDermott. What you did for the people of Harmony Falls, again, speaks volumes. You, sir, are a hero. But I don’t want you to end up a dead one. Let me cut to the chase. I’ve got access to a little fund that we keep in reserve for what we call ‘black-ops’, for lack of a better name. I know, that makes it sound pretty ominous. Really, it’s just a relatively small cash reserve. A fund we keep for paying informants and other similar things, well, like this. Things that are better kept off the books, if you get my drift. So I’m gonna see to it that you’re paid for your trouble, your customary wage. That is, should you, after you hear and see all the facts, still want to go through with investigating this. The victims were totally drained of blood. No easy task, naturally or otherwise. That’s why I think the victims fell prey to some sort of Satanic cult or something. Murders committed by or directed by that guy Salizzar. I don’t like anything about him or any of those freak-show clubbers that go to his place on a regular basis. I tell ya, Ian, it’s like the goddamn Manson Family’s moved into my town. Anyway, nobody, least of all me, is gonna blame ya if ya don’t want to go through with any of this. ‘Cause if you do choose to go forward, you’ll have to go undercover and somewhat change your appearance. I don’t know where you’re staying. Better that nobody in the station does. But my strong advice is to stay somewhere off the beaten path. Not here in town. I can’t do what the little town of Harmony Falls did. That is, make you any sort of official temporary lawman or anything. So you’ve got to play mostly by the rules of law … mostly. I’m sure you’ve already heard or read about Salizzar’s nightclub down on the waterfront. It’s called The Morgue, of all things. You’re gonna need to get inside there and do some snooping. Problem is, you don’t look much like … well forget about your age for a minute. There’s no doubt plenty of middle-aged freaks. It’s just, you don’t look like what my teenage kids call Emo or Gothic or some such crap. You know the look. Like some deeply-disturbed heroin addict with jet-black hair and Johnny Cash clothes. And one of those long, black trench coats like you see in movies. That stereotype seems to hold more true than not with the freaks I’ve seen hanging around that place. When Salizzar first filed for all the required licenses to open his den of sin, church groups, the city council, and the mayor’s office all initially did everything within the law to try and keep them out of our town. But I’ll say this much for the freak; apparently, he’s got pockets as deep as the ocean and big city attorneys in his corner to boot. He hides behind the Constitution like he was around when it was written. Or he buys whoever he feels is necessary to have on payroll, if you follow my meaning.”