Port of Sorrow (14 page)

CHAPTER
30

Julia was in mid-yawn and trying to hide the fact when Finn was escorted over to her desk.

“This fella says he needs to talk to you,” said Deputy Philip Plant.

“Thanks.” Julia stood up, grabbed Finn’s arm and pulled him over to the coffee machine. “You have any change?”

Finn produced four quarters to buy two cups of muddy coffee.

“You look tired,” he said.

“Our coroner was murdered.” Julia took a swallow of lukewarm coffee and fought off a shudder.  “Made for a late night.”

“Jesus!” Finn’s stomach bubbled. “Does it have anything to do with Selene?”

“Barbara performed the autopsies on both Selene and Paul. She found a bite mark on the cook.” Julia lowered her voice. “A tissue sample has been sent to Seattle for special tests that could possibly help us ID his killer.”

“Is that why your coroner was killed?”

“I don’t know. Not many people knew about it.” Julia sighed. “And killing her doesn’t change anything. The sample has already shipped.”

“But will anyone else know what to do with the results?”

Julia stopped drinking her coffee, the cup balanced on her bottom lip, and shrugged. “Good point.”

Finn tried a sip of coffee and grimaced. “I was hoping you could help me with something else.”

“Oh?”

“I’m looking into a missing person by the name of Abery. Harold Abery.”

Julia arched her eyebrows. “What’s the connection?”

“None to Selene. It’s for a friend.”

“Hmmm.” Julia led the way back to her desk and typed the name into her terminal. When the file scrolled across her screen, she scanned it carefully.

“I don’t see much here,” she said.

“Mind if I look?”

“You realize,” she whispered, “this is confidential. However, that coffee is going right through me.”

Finn nodded his thanks as Julia headed to the washroom.

The report was straightforward: Harold’s birth date, the day he went missing, and several notations about phone calls to the station from his bride. The most disturbing aspect was how little time and effort had been spent actually searching for him. A highlighted notation at the very bottom stated the case was closed after Deputy Gilles received a personal postcard from Harold three weeks after his disappearance.

The postcard was postmarked in Florida.

WHEN JULIA RETURNED
, Finn was gone. His Styrofoam cup, half-full of coffee and its edges jagged with teeth marks, had been left on her desk.

Without even really thinking about it, Julia dumped the coffee in the trash, dug out a plastic evidence bag from her bottom drawer and dropped the cup inside.

“Are you the station’s recycling whip?” asked a male voice. “There’s usually at least one.”

Julia turned and found herself looking into the face of one of the handsomest men she had ever seen.

Standing at an inch or two over six feet, the dark-haired man filled out his gray-striped, Savile Row suit to perfection, especially in the shoulders. Julia wanted to ask him to turn around for a look at the fit of his trousers, but decided that might be a bit forward.

“I’m Cryer Rayne,” said the man, extending his hand. “Federal Bureau of Investigation.”

Julia stood up, trying not to become lost in his intense blue eyes, and shook his hand.

“J-Julia,” she stuttered. “I’m just a deputy.”

“No such thing as ‘just a deputy’.” Cryer’s smile instantly made Julia smile back. “So what’s with the cup?”

“Did the sheriff call you in?”

“Not really, but he’ll be glad I’m here.” His smile dropped slightly. “The cup?”

Julia glanced down at the evidence bag in her hand and then over at the sheriff’s office. It was empty.

“Are you helping out with the murders?” she asked nervously.

Cryre nodded. “And the rapes.”

“Do you know about the coroner and the burnt body in the morgue?”

“I’ve been fully briefed.”

“Was there any mention of a strange bruise on the body? Before it was burned.”

Cryre settled himself on the corner of the desk, crossed his arms and looked deep into Julia’s eyes.

“Tell me,” he said.

Julia did.

When she was finished, Cryre motioned to the bagged coffee cup. “You suspect this Finn character?”

“Actually, I don’t.” She wrinkled her nose in embarrassment as though caught doing something naughty. “But I’d rather be 100 percent sure than 99.”

Cryre laughed aloud, startling some of the nearby deputies. It was a wonderfully warm and endearing laugh.

“I don’t say this often when I’m in the field,” he confided, “but I’m looking forward to working with you.”

Julia grinned at the handsome agent, her smile slipping only slightly when she spotted the gold and platinum wedding band on his left hand.

CHAPTER
31

After his afternoon performance, Finn headed to the docks and an after-hours club called Houndstooth’s where he was told Deputy Gilles spent most of his non-working, and a few of his working hours.

He knew that approaching Gilles with a simple question would be a waste of time. The deputy hated both Finn and Veronique, so his only option was deception.

Finn wore black stockings with a suggestive zipper pattern on the side, a short leather miniskirt, and a clingy blouse overtop one of Selene’s bustier bras that had required all of his extra stuffing. He crowned the disguise with a blonde pageboy wig and a lighter foundation than he normally wore as Veronique. Deception’s name, he decided, was Sonja.

“Very pretty,” said the chocolate brown eye peering through the peephole. “You want come in?”

Sonja batted fake eyelashes and looked demurely off to the side. The door opened immediately and Sonja found herself welcomed inside.

The chocolate orb belonged to a short, fat man with a leering face and frictionless hands. At least they better be frictionless, Finn thought, because the way he was rubbing them together he was bound to start a fire.

“I am Houndstooth,” the man said proudly, puffing out his already swollen chest. “Anything you want I get for you.”

Sonja smiled coyly, licked her lips, and quietly asked for a Bloody Mary, extra spicy. The bartender rushed to fill the order, giving Finn time to scan the room. He saw Gilles sitting at the end of the bar, alone within a half circle of glass guardians.

With a practiced sway of her hips, Sonja strolled down the bar, slid onto a stool beside Gilles and produced a small, pinkie-thick cigar from inside her matching clutch purse. She moistened the cigar seductively on her tongue and let it dangle between rose-red lips.

“Got a light?” she breathed.

Gilles reached into his pocket for a lighter and snapped a flame.

Sonja stroked the deputy’s hand as she puffed carefully before blowing a ring of smoke in gratitude.

“I ain’t never seen a woman smoke a cigar before,” Gilles said.

“That surprises me,” Sonja answered with a smile. “You look like a man who has seen a woman do practically everything.”

A cough caught in Gilles’ throat. “Do we know each other?”

“If we did, I would be hurt that you don’t remember me. But I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Houndstooth delivered the Bloody Mary, shot Gilles a dirty look, and backed away.

Sonja laughed softly and took a sip of the blood-red juice. A tiny droplet fell to her chin, but she removed it expertly with the tip of her tongue.

“So what brings you to town?” Gilles asked.

“I’m looking for someone.”

“Oh? Maybe I can help. I know this town pretty well.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Gilles practically blushed. “Who are you looking for?”

“Harold Abery.”

Gilles lost his boyish grin. “Nobody’s seen Harold in eight years,” he said grimly.

Sonja sighed. “That’s what I’ve been told. But I also heard you were the last one to see him.”

“What?” Gilles blurted. “Who told you that?”

“Why it was one of the handsome young officers at the station this morning. They said you received a postcard from him shortly after he disappeared.”

Gilles relaxed at the mention of the postcard.

“Yeah, right. I did receive a card.”

“Do you still have it?” Sonja asked sweetly. “I would love to see it.”

“Why?”

“To find what town it was mailed from, silly. My cousin has inherited from his dear aunt Cilia, and it is my unfortunate job to find him.”

“Harold’s your cousin?”

“Second cousin, actually. Truth be told, I’ve never met him.”

“So you don’t know what he looks like?”

“Not now. I have some old family photos, of course, but he’s barely a teenager in those. I would really appreciate your help.”

Gilles wasn’t listening; he had swallowed the bait.

“And you say he’s inherited?”

“Mmmm,” Sonja nodded. “Nearly a quarter million.”

Gilles swallowed hard. “Cash?”

“Well it sure ain’t bees, honey.” Sonja’s manly laugh at her own joke made Houndstooth jump from behind the bar.

Gilles joined in with a guttural chuckle of his own.

“You know,” he said. “I believe I do have that postcard somewhere at the house. Maybe you’d like to help me look?”

Sonja immediately slid off the stool to smooth her short skirt over long, sensuous legs. “Let’s go.”

Gilles’ salacious grin widened as he downed the last of his beer and led the way outside.

FORTUNATELY, GILLES’ HOUSE
was only three blocks from the docks, otherwise the probing squeeze of his wandering gear-shift hand would have gone too far up Sonja’s thigh to disguise her proper sex.

Inside the two-story house, Gilles loosened his tie and poured two large glasses of bourbon.

“It helps the memory,” he said with a laugh as he handed over one of the glasses.

Sonja smiled and took a small sip. The bourbon was cheap and harsh, not unlike its server.

“Yumm,” she said.

Gilles took a large swallow then drew himself up close. “You know, I think we could find this card faster if we removed our clothing.”

Sonja giggled and playfully pushed him away. “Why that’s the silliest thing I’ve ever heard. But if we do find the card, I can promise you a more exciting time than just seeing me naked.”

Gilles let out a primal whoop and grabbed for one of Sonja’s breasts. Sonja grabbed his wrist before his fingers could land.

“After we find the postcard,” she said.

“You got a strong grip for a lady.”

“My hands are weak,” Sonja said quietly, “compared to my thighs.”

Gilles whooped again as Sonja released his hand.

“Man, oh man. You’re one exciting broad.”

“The card,” Sonja reminded.

“Yeah, yeah.” Gilles’ upper lip beaded with just a touch of sweat. Then, after a moment’s hesitation, he said, “What if I was to tell you, I don’t have the card?”

“You lied to me?” Sonja moved away from him, her lip extruding in a pout.

“No, not really,” Gilles protested. “I just remembered that Harold phoned me instead.”

“But your report said . . .”

“Fuck the report. I made a mistake.”

“Where did he call you from?” Sonja asked, keeping the pressure on.

“Who cares?”

“I do.”

“Forget Harold.” He grabbed his crotch obscenely. “I got everything you need right here.”

“There was no contact was there?”

“Man, you are turning into a real bitch. I might have to teach you a lesson.”

“Harold never called or wrote. In fact, you don’t have a clue where he is, do you?”

“Oh, I know where he is all right and it ain’t in fuckin’ Florida.” He was gulping his bourbon now, the veins in his neck beginning to bulge.

“Where is he?” Sonja asked.

“I’ll show you where he is,” Gilles threatened. “I’ll show you exactly where he is.”

Sonja lashed out as Gilles advanced, her foot connecting with something solid between Gilles’ legs. Gilles grunted and fell to one knee, but he recovered quickly.

“I took to wearing a cup under the uniform,” Gilles said as he got back on his feet. “Have to break up a lot of bar fights in this job.”

As he stood, Gilles reached behind his back and removed his nightstick.

“You really shouldn’t have made me angry, dollface.”

Sonja cursed and made a break for the front door.

Gilles laughed when Sonja discovered the deadbolt needed a key.

“I don’t like people leaving the party early,” said Gilles.

Sonja turned and dashed up the stairs, cursing her high heels with every step. At the top, her only option was to lock herself in the bathroom. She needed time to think of a plan.

The nightstick crashed against the bathroom door.

“You know what I love about these old houses,” Gilles called through the door. “The bathroom locks can be opened from the outside with a key. Don’t you go anywhere, I’ll be right back.”

Finn yanked off the blonde wig and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “What the fuck are you playing at?” he asked himself. “Either get out of here or kick his ass.”

Before he could come up with a plan, a new set of heavy fists began pounding on the front door at the bottom of the stairs. Finn pressed his ear to the bathroom door as Gilles answered the summons.

“What the fuck you want?” Gilles screamed at whoever had been knocking. “I told you not to come here.”

“I need to talk to you, man. I’m in serious shit. Big Brother is losing it.”

Finn recognized the voice. It was Wells.

“I got company,” Gilles said.

“Please, man. We need a fucking plan.”

There was a long pause as cold sweat trickled down Finn’s back.

“Okay, come in,” Gilles said finally. “Maybe you can help me teach this bitch a lesson. Just remember you get sloppy seconds.”

Oh, shit!

Finn turned to the bathroom window and attempted to open it, but layers of ancient paint sealed the wooden casing better than any lock.

Gilles pounded on the bathroom door.

“Are you coming out to play, little girl. I got a friend with me and he don’t mind it sloppy.”

“Who you got in there?” Wells asked.

“A cousin of Harold’s, believe it or don’t.”

“No shit. That’s fucking random. What she want with you?”

“My monster cock, naturally.”

“Yeah? She want you to stick it through the keyhole?”

“Shut up and help me find the damn key.”

Sweating profusely now, Finn dug into Sonja’s clutch purse and retrieved a metal nail file. Thanking the gods of female vanity, he turned back to the window and began scraping through the layers of paint. Once he broke the seal, the window reluctantly gave way and slid skyward. With the wig stuck under his blouse for safekeeping, and the miniskirt riding up to his waist, Finn squirmed out the window feet first and grabbed onto the ledge with his fingertips. It was at least an eight-foot drop to the ground. Gritting his teeth, he let go.

The landing was rough, but he bent his knees and rolled to escape with only a gash on one leg and a pair of ruined stockings. After he picked himself up, he didn’t stop running until he was back at the hotel.