Wolfwraith (23 page)

When he reached the park, he had to swing aside a bar across the road at the main entrance. It was the only time he had ever seen it closed. No guards were necessary here, he supposed, since the refuge was closed too. Besides, there were too many ways to get into the park other than the dike trails and roads, especially by water. They’d posted signs on all three docks, but that was all. Most outdoors-type people would obey the sign, even if they hadn’t heard about the situation in the park, but he wouldn’t put it past some of the rainbow-haired crowd to sneak in, looking for thrills.

Alex had offered vacation leave to the park staff, but only Mark Wilson had taken advantage of it. Steve Slocum had stayed on, but his wife and kids were staying with friends in the city. Alex’s wife, Lillian, refused to leave; she was the only female remaining.

Shadow drove to his house but walked past it to the Taj Mahal. The crime-scene tape had been taken down around the trailer, although Jenny’s place was still blocked off. The Taj Mahal was locked up, which was unusual, but Jonesy had always kept a spare key under a board on the steps. Shadow let himself in. The kitchen was warm and musty, so he turned on the air, then went to the refrigerator and grabbed one of the beers still there. For nearly an hour he drank beer and moved the pegs around on Jonesy’s cribbage board, then went home.

The next day, Shadow took a vacation day and hung around home, whittling, doing crosswords and listlessly watching God-awful soaps while his air conditioner whined in a feeble attempt to suck moisture and heat from the air. The summer heat and humidity had descended on the Atlantic Coast like a sweat-soaked blanket. He would have liked to visit where Jonesy had been killed, but he’d been told to stay out of the investigators’ way.

When Helen phoned and asked to meet him in town, it was as though he had been given a reprieve. She avoided giving him any information on the phone and suggested meeting at a beachfront nightspot.

“Why not meet at the refuge headquarters or Little Island?” he asked.

“Oh come on, Shadow. It’s Friday and I’ll feel like I’m still working if we do that. I’ve got some hot stuff for you and there’s no reason we can’t do it over drinks and dinner. Besides, it’s sort of business, so I’ll put it on my expense account.”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty bummed out over Jonesy—and Jenny, too of course.” He’d forgotten it was Friday; the days had been running together lately.

“All the more reason. You can’t sit down there and mope, all by yourself, right next to where they were killed. Let’s go. I wouldn’t mind having dinner with a sexy ranger, even if it is business.”

“Er, well, I guess so.” Why was he hesitating? It wasn’t like dating, which he had avoided since his divorce because he felt clumsy around attractive women. Besides, she’d just called him sexy. “I’ll be glad to meet you somewhere. You name it.”

Helen laughed lightly. “That’s better. I was beginning to think you had something against paleface girls. Can you meet me at The Raven at, say, eight-thirty tonight? It’s a restaurant and bar on Ninth and Atlantic”

“Why so late?”

“Any earlier and we’ll be the only ones there,” she said. “C’mon, there’s no reason we can’t have a drink while I bring you up to speed. Besides, I’m driving down from Richmond and the interstate is always jammed in the evening.”

“Okay. See you there.”

He called Alex and let him know he’d be away from the park. The rangers weren’t required to account for their off-hours, of course, but everyone did so as a matter of courtesy.

By seven-thirty, he had showered and was on the way to meet Helen. Even after he’d cleared the park and the refuge, he had several miles to drive. Virginia Beach was a sprawling city, stretching from the southern shore of the Chesapeake Bay to the North Carolina line. Although there was still a lot of farmland in the southern parts, the land in the north was quite developed. Even so, two navy bases, a national guard base, an army fort and two state parks—the other being First Landing—took up a great deal of space, and all but the navy’s airfield took up miles of valuable beachfront. No wonder the land in the park would be so valuable if it came on the market; there was very little room left elsewhere in the city.

He drove for several miles through Sandbridge, a narrow stretch of expensive homes on stilts, where millions of dollars had been spent building up the sand along the beach and detoured around Camp Pendleton, the National Guard base. It was nearly dark when he crossed a high bridge over an inlet looking down on marinas full of large, expensive-looking boats. He’d entered the resort area.

This section of the city hadn’t been so commercialized when Shadow had first seen it as a child on vacation. There had still been weathered wood-sided hotels and summer-rental cottages with colorful awnings, looking like old ladies sitting along the beach with drab, gray dresses and bright shawls.

He had a bit of trouble finding The Raven, which was an older tavern and restaurant across the street from the beach. The bar’s parking lot was full, so Shadow parked three blocks away in a pay lot.

He walked back to the restaurant, noticing mobs of tattooed, ornament-studded teenagers hanging around storefronts while sunburned families hurried in and out of restaurants, game parlors and souvenir shops. Four lanes of traffic inched along between traffic lights, slowed by trolley-like buses plastered with advertisements for local businesses. Pairs of white-helmeted police officers seemed to be everywhere, afoot, on bicycles and in cars. Shadow even saw a pair of high-booted cops riding horses along the street.

He had agreed to meet Helen on the patio—more of a veranda actually, which wrapped around the building. When he had found a table there, separated from the sidewalk by a low wall, he ordered a beer.

The din of motors and car horns outside assailed his ears, competing with a blare of music from within the building. With his nose and throat burning from exhaust fumes, he wondered why anyone would pay thousands of dollars to vacation here. Maybe most fathers would rather come here, he supposed, where they had to shell out money for video games, ice cream and souvenirs, than go to a quiet, secluded spot where their children would continuously complain, “There’s nothing to do here!”

Helen arrived before he’d finished his beer and he stood up to wave her over. She weaved through the crowd wearing flat-soled, comfortable-looking shoes, a tan skirt and matching jacket. Her short red hair was combed back over her ears but one strand had escaped, giving her the look of a harried office worker after a long day. Sliding into a chair, she let out a deep breath.

“Whew, I’m glad to be out of the car,” she said. “Traffic was backed up for miles; probably some idiot ran out of gas in the tunnel.”

“I was thinking how lucky I am to be out of the rat race,” said Shadow. “Would you like a drink?”

“A margarita—and make it a double. They make absolutely delicious margaritas here. Have you ever tried one?”

“No, I’ve never been here before, but it sounds good.” The waiter had arrived at the table immediately after Helen, and Shadow ordered drinks for both of them.

Helen rose from her chair as the waiter walked away. “Excuse me for a moment, please. I’ve been in the car for nearly three hours. Back in a moment.”

She returned shortly after a waiter had brought the drinks. She had let loose her hair and removed her light jacket. She was quite attractive with her hair down, Shadow found.

“Sorry,” she said. “Now I can relax.” She picked up her drink and held it out, “Here’s to money making the world go ’round.”

“Hello yourself,” Shadow replied, clinking his glass against hers. “I take it you found something out.”

“I did.” She took a large gulp of her margarita. “Mmmm.” She drank again. “I told you. Scrumptious.” She licked her lips, obviously savoring crystals of salt from the edge of the glass, and every hint of her professional demeanor seemed to drop away. Shadow remembered he’d always had a thing for redheads.

He sipped. “I agree. Absolutely the best.”

“I did an article about this place, years ago,” Helen said. “Back when I was still doing ‘local flavor’ pieces. Now I’m a bit of a regular here.” She finished her drink. “Wow, someone gave me a glass with a hole in it!” She looked about, caught the waiter’s eye and waved him over.

“Drink up,” she told Shadow after she had ordered another round. “I need to wrap myself around a couple of drinks before I can eat. Besides, this is on my expense account, remember. You may consider yourself a ‘journalistic source.’”

“Did I tell you something that helped?” He took another swig.

“First off, the knife. Your friend Jonesy was stabbed to death. He was slashed all over, apparently by an animal, but the killer used a knife to finish him off.”

“Holy shit.” Shadow unthinkingly took a jellybean from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. “This whole thing is getting more bizarre by the minute—or maybe I should say ‘by the murder.’ What about the DNA?”

“Nothing on that, so far, but I’m still digging. You did give me something else, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Henderson.” She lowered her voice. “Oscar O. Henderson is a multi-millionaire businessman from northern Virginia.”

“How do you know he was the Henderson talking to Barnett?” Shadow asked, adopting her conspiratorial tone.

She shrugged. “Double-Oh, as they call him, is married to the governor’s daughter. He’s only in his thirties but he’s made millions with a contracting business, mostly road development, usually state contracts. Recently, he’s been multiplying his money like rabbits, buying land all over the state and building houses. I’d say he’s the most logical...”

She stopped as the waiter placed four drinks on the table, double what they had ordered. “With Mr. Danski’s compliments, Miss Parsons.”

Shadow raised an eyebrow when the waiter had gone. “Mr. Danski?”

“The owner,” said Helen. “I’m a bit of a regular here, like I said.”

“Oh.” He glanced around. “Why are we being so secretive? Surely you don’t think this is such a big deal you’re being followed?”

“No, but you might be.”

“Me?”

“You’re a murder suspect, according to every cop I know. Do you really think they’re not keeping an eye on you?”

“They’re following me?” He looked around. “You’re kidding me.”

“I know a lot of cops around here. The word is out in the station houses that you’re the top, number-one suspect. At least until they’ve processed the DNA samples they took.”

“Son of a bitch!” A couple across from them glanced his way and he realized he’d been too loud. Reining his anger in, he continued more softly, “I knew there were suspicions, since everything seems to be happening when I’m nearby, but that’s because of where I live, damn it.”

“Shadow, they don’t have anyone else; that’s why they’re keyed in on you, at least for now. They’re sure to be keeping an eye on your movements.” She gave him a direct look. “Makes sense doesn’t it?”

“But no one followed me.” Shadow looked around again. Somehow, it now seemed as though some of the bar’s patrons were purposefully not looking at him. “I’d have seen anyone following me, especially through the refuge.”

“They didn’t have to follow you. They could have a tap on your phone, or maybe a listening device pointed at your house. I had to tell you where to meet me and they could have got here before you did. So I suggested here because it’s noisy and we could talk without being overheard.”

Shadow remembered calling Alex and saying he’d be at The Raven, so she might be right. “Okay, maybe there are cops around. But so what? We’re not talking about anything they’d be interested in?”

“How would they know that? You’re a possible serial killer; I might be your next victim. They’re keeping an eye on you to see what you do. I don’t want them to hear me, in any case. Not that the cops care about possible political shenanigans at this point, but if it looks like it might tie into the murders, they’ll swarm all over it. I’m only beginning to work out what they’re up to and where the money is flowing. Get the cops in on it and there goes any chance of my getting to the bottom of it.”

“But...” Shadow wasn’t following her logic. “Wouldn’t the police be able to find out what’s going on, better than...” He stopped.

She smiled and held up her drink in a mock toast. “Better than one lone-rangering female reporter? Oh, it’s all right, Shadow. I’m sure that’s what you were thinking. I’ve got contacts in Richmond who’ll talk to me, but they’ll clam up tighter than a nun’s pussy if cops start asking questions.”

Shadow felt his face flush and took a long sip of his drink to hide it.

“I do believe you’re blushing.” Helen grinned. “I thought you were an ex-marine, girl in every port, that sort of thing.”

“Er, I...”

“Shadow, you’re precious.” She laughed and waved her empty glass in the air. “You, sir, may order me another drink!”

“Don’t you think we’ve had enough?” He was feeling a bit lightheaded. We haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Just one more. Please?” Her blue eyes gleamed. “Or are you afraid I’ll talk dirty again?”

Chapter Eighteen

Had anyone locked their doors, back then?

Driving back through the refuge the next morning, Shadow suddenly found himself whistling. It had been a long time since he had been with a woman. Sure, he had a hangover, but it was a small price to pay. He felt great!