Tourists in particular tended to avoid news reports while they were on holiday. They believed that the normal rules of caution didn’t apply to them in this charming, subtropical place.
In his last attempt, he hadn’t left matters to chance, but had gone directly to an area known to be frequented by sex workers. He had approached Kelly directly. So, that’s where Eulalie went too. There were several corners that were known to be favored by sex workers. As soon as a police car appeared, whether marked or unmarked, the women would disappear. They would fade into the night before they could be challenged by the authorities. When it was safe, they would reappear again.
The reactions Eulalie got from the sex workers who saw her walking their beat was predictably hostile. There was no way she could explain what she was doing – and no way she would be believed – so she stayed out of their path as much as possible.
The warning she would have liked to see broadcast through the media would not have painted this man as a stranger, or a monster. This was someone who was part of the community – a known figure who had always lived on the island. He would have many acquaintances and friends, all of whom would feel safe with him, and all of whom could turn out to be his next target. But the media preferred the image of the dangerous stranger, rather than the pleasant-faced friend that you had known for years.
The hours ticked by.
Eulalie had received some catcalls, some propositions, and plenty of mockery for the way she was dressed. Not one of these had come from the man she was hunting. Not one had involved an invitation to get into a car.
She knew she might be mistaken about the identity of the perpetrator. It wouldn’t be the first time she was wrong, and no doubt not the last either. But she remained convinced that she was right.
She continued to walk the streets until dawn had broken, and then she went home. She took a shower, fed the cat, and made herself a sandwich. She took off her Victorian-style nightgown and hung it up carefully. Then she sent a message to Mrs. Belfast letting her know she wouldn’t be in that day at all.
There was a good chance that she had been recognized by people she knew. News of her strange behavior would soon reach the ears of her grandmother and Chief Macgregor. It was entirely possible that they would figure out what she was up to.
Just in case, she bolted her door, unplugged her phone, and switched off her cellphone. Mrs. Belfast would tell anyone who asked that she was out in the field all day.
She closed her shutters tightly to exclude all light. Then she got under the duvet and tumbled into sleep, exhausted by the night’s activities. She had expected that the cat would abandon her for Mrs. Belfast in the office, but he hopped on the bed and curled up against her hip. They slept dreamlessly for more than eight hours.
Eulalie’s first thought when she woke up was to wonder how long she could keep this up.
She had never done nightshift work in her life, and found it debilitating. It was strange and disorienting to wake up in the middle of the afternoon.
There was also the problem of her concerned friends and family. They might respect her enough to leave her alone for a day and a night, but after that there would be no holding them off. This plan had to work tonight, or she would have to abandon it and think again.
She spent the rest of the afternoon going over the evidence again. If there were only concrete proof of what she suspected, this whole exercise would be rendered unnecessary. There would be no need to dangle herself as live bait if conventional police methods could stop him before he struck again.
As good a job as Chief Macgregor’s team had done in processing the various crime scenes, there was no breakthrough item of evidence that could lead to an arrest. All of it would end up helping to build a case against the perpetrator should he ever be caught, but until then it was next to useless.
By nightfall, Eulalie was bored and frustrated, and ready to get out in the field again. She fortified herself with another sandwich and fed the cat again. As soon as he had eaten, he slipped out the window to enjoy an evening on the tiles.
She pulled the broderie anglaise nightgown over her head, slid her feet into the thong sandals, and brushed her hair loose over her shoulders. She painted on the dark circles under her eyes, and this time powdered her lips for a pale and interesting look.
Checking her reflection in the mirror she thought she looked like an escapee from a film set, but hopefully her target would see her as sufficiently desperate and vulnerable.
She opened the shutters on one of her windows and peeked into the road. There was an unmarked police car parked on the opposite side of Bonaparte Avenue. It was difficult from this angle to see who was behind the wheel, but Eulalie thought she recognized one of Chief Macgregor’s junior officers. No doubt he was under orders to report any comings or goings from her office or apartment straight to his boss.
Eulalie appreciated the concern but being under surveillance did not suit her at all right now.
Crossing to the opposite side of her apartment, she looked out the kitchen window down into the service alley below. It seemed to be free of nosey policemen.
She opened the window wider and eased a leg through the gap until her foot touched the ledge below. Then she ducked her head and shoulders through the opening, gave a little wriggle, and slid her second leg out too. A billowy nightgown and thong sandals were not ideal climbing attire, but they didn’t slow her down.
Eulalie crabwalked along the window ledge until she reached the downpipe that carried rainwater from the roof of the building into a gutter below. The downpipe was an old friend. She’d had occasion to test its strength before.
Holding her body carefully away from the wall so that her nightgown wouldn’t get dirty, she climbed down to street level like a stiff-legged spider. As soon as her feet touched solid ground, she set off at a jog, winding her way through the network of service alleys that led back up to Lafayette Drive without passing through Bonaparte Avenue.
It was fully dark by the time she crossed into De Gaulle Avenue. This time, she was keeping an eye out as much for people who knew her as for men in cars. If someone made a fuss about what she was doing there, it would scare off her target.
No sooner had she avoided a group of sex workers who were giving her unfriendly looks near Beach Road, than she almost walked straight into the arms of Fleur du Toit who was coming out of a beachside bar with some friends. Eulalie had to make a very rapid swerve into a dark doorway to avoid being seen. Fleur and her friends climbed into a car and drove away. Eulalie emerged cautiously onto Beach Road and resumed her walk. That was a very close call.
It was nine o’clock, which meant that her target could already be out on the prowl. Lisa Lavalle had been snatched at close to midnight, but Kelly in the early evening.
Stumbling slightly, Eulalie lurched across the sidewalk and into Beach Road. There was a chorus of horns, and cars swerved to go around her. She heard a screech of brakes behind her, and then a voice called out, “Eulalie! Eulalie, over here. Are you all right?”
She turned, swaying on her feet, to see a familiar face in a blue Nissan.
“Oh, hello,” she said.
“You want to be careful stepping out into the road like that. I nearly ran into you. Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
“I don’t know.” She clutched her head. “I’m so upset, I can hardly think. Yes, I would like a lift, thank you.”
He pulled over next to the sidewalk and reached across to open the passenger door. “Please! Get in. I’ll take you anywhere you like.”
Eulalie slid into the front seat and closed the door. She turned her head and smiled at him. “Thanks, Laurie. This is very kind of you.”
Laurie Task smiled and gave her arm a friendly pat. Then he checked his mirrors and eased back into the flow of traffic on Beach Road. “Any time. Really. All you have to do is ask. I’m here for you whenever you need me.”
“That means a lot.” Eulalie’s voice dropped almost to a w
hisper.
Silence descended as they weaved through the traffic on Beach Road. It was always busy at this time of night, with throngs of tourists crossing the road, and getting in and out of cabs, or just standing around and chatting.
“You seem upset,” Laurie said as they stopped at a red light. “I hope no one has been bothering you.”
“You don’t want to hear my troubles.” She turned her face to look out the car window.
“Of course I do. Tell me all about it. I’m a good listener. Sometimes it helps just to talk.”
“Do you ever feel like you just want to run away from your life?”
“All the time. Sometimes at the club I feel as though my parents are expecting so much of me that the only thing I can do is run away. Is that how you’ve been feeling?”
“Yes, exactly. It’s all getting too much for me. But you have such a good job at the archery club. You’re following in your father’s footsteps. He must be so proud of you.”
Laurie snorted. “As if. My dad was an Olympic champion. I’ll never be that good. Nothing I do is ever enough for him. He wants me to be just like him. He has no time for anything I do unless it’s a copy of his life.”
“And when you do copy him, is he proud of you?”
“I guess. I don’t know if it will ever be enough, though. I’m starting to think it won’t.”
“I don’t know. I think it’s a fine thing for a son to follow in his father’s footsteps. That’s how you build a legacy. That’s how you earn respect.”
“Yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. You’re right.”
They had reached the end of Beach Road and could either take the last turn to the left to go back to Lafayette Drive, or continue on the north-bound coast road. Laurie kept going north.
“Where are we going?” asked Eulalie. “There’s nothing out here except sugarcane fields.”
“I want to show you something. You’ll like it. You’ll see”
Eulalie glanced at her door handle and saw that the child lock was on. She couldn’t open the door even if she wanted to.
She sat back in her seat.
“Why do you feel like you want to run away from your life?” he asked.
“A lot of bad memories have surfaced lately. I don’t know if you’ve been reading about the bodies of the three girls that were discovered on Robson’s Field?”
He made a noncommittal sound.
“Well, the very first victim was my mother. She died twenty-eight years ago.”
“Really?” There was an air of suppressed excitement about him. “The first victim was your mother? That’s amazing. I never knew that. I guess you don’t want to end up like her, right?”
Eulalie shivered. “Right.”
The street lights disappeared as they got further from the city. They were driving into blackness. The only visible light was from the stars in the sky, and the boats far out to sea making their way towards the Port of Prince William.
Laurie concentrated on the wash of light illuminating the asphalt in front of him.
Eulalie thought about how the round-the-clock security at Robson’s Field had been lifted after the crime scene techs had finished processing it. The workers went off shift at six in the evening and only returned at seven the next morning. Between those times, the site was deserted.
She reminded herself that this was what she had wanted. She had wanted to be the target of this man, rather than some innocent civilian. Still, she was not looking forward to getting out of the car. She couldn’t quite see how this was all going to end. It had gone according to plan up until now, but the plan didn’t stretch further than this.
They turned left towards Robson’s Field. Eulalie wondered what he would do if she started screaming and demanding to be let out of the car. He would probably be annoyed. That wasn’t part of the plan – of the historical pattern. She was to remain quiet and docile while the plan was carried out.
They stopped among the bulldozers and trucks of Robson’s Field. Laurie hopped out of the car and ran around to open Eulalie’s door for her.
“Such a gentleman,” she said as she got out.
He left the Nissan’s headlights on so that they weren’t plunged into darkness.
“What did you want to show me?” she asked.
“It’s just over there.” He motioned towards a mound of builders’ sand. “Come and have a look.”
She walked a little way ahead of him. As she approached the mound of sand, there was a roaring sound in her ears and her skin shivered with cold. She saw a metal club wielded by a powerful hand smashing into the back of her skull in a vicious side sweep.
Before it could connect, Eulalie leaned out of the way, bending at the waist and sidestepping the blow.
She turned to see Laurie flailing at her with the club.
“What are you doing, Laurie?”
“No!” He grunted with effort. “You weren’t supposed to do that. Why did you duck?”
He came at her again in a clumsy run, slashing at her with the club.
She sidestepped him, fading away as he got near.
“Keep still!” He was close to tears now. “It’s not supposed to be like this.”
“What is it supposed to be like, Laurie? Are my brains supposed to be splattered all over that club by now?”
“It’s the legacy,” he panted. “It has to be done like this.”
Eulalie circled around him, luring him back to the Nissan.
“How did you find out about it, Laurie? How did you find out what your father did to those girls all those years ago? What he did to my mother?”
His teeth flash whitely in the halogen glare of the headlights.
“He took photographs,” he said. “I found his stash of pictures years ago. He photographed both girls as he arranged them in their graves and I found the ribbon he used.”
He let his arms drop to his sides and appeared to relax. Then he lashed out like a snake, muscles rippling as he wielded the club in an attempt to smash Eulalie’s head in. She danced away as though he were standing still.
“When the first body was discovered, you decided to take up your dad’s old hobby,” she said, speaking fast. “Why was that?”
He laughed wildly. “It was my last chance. Don’t you see? I’d been thinking about it for years. I would do the same thing as my old man and he would take the blame for it. I knew the cops were hot on his trail. I thought I could get in a couple of kills under the wire and they would be blamed on him. It was the same red ribbon and the same - what do you call it? – MO. Of course you would think it was him.”
“The perfect crime.”
“I didn’t know that your mother was his first victim. That makes it even more symmetrical. And now you will be his last victim.” He gave another wild laugh. “His victim, my victim. It’s all the same when you’re dead. Now, hold still, bitch.”
He rushed at her like a bull charging a matador. She eluded him easily.
“Try again, big boy,” she taunted. “I bet your father didn’t struggle this much with his victims.”
He charged her again. This time, as she sidestepped him, she grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the club and used his own momentum to pivot him into the side of the Nissan.
He collided with the side of the car with a metallic thud. As he pulled himself off it and turned around, he found himself staring down the barrel of a Smith & Wesson Shield 9mm. Eulalie had pulled it from the upper-thigh holster hidden under the fabric of the broderie anglaise nightgown.
“Twitch and I’ll blow a hole through your chest,” she told him. “Your father killed my mother. Perhaps I’ll kill his son. Wouldn’t that be symmetrical?”
“You don’t have what it takes to pull that trigger,” he said.
Eulalie stepped forward so that the light from the truck fell across her face.
“Try me.”
Laurie Task looked into the blazing black depths of her eyes and decided not to take her u
p on this invitation.
Epilogue
As the dawn light penetrated the leafy canopy of the forest, the plaintive notes of a wooden flute rose up to meet it. Then a pennywhistle joined in, and the low rumble of drums started up.
Eulalie stood next to an open grave. To her right stood Chief Macgregor. And ranged around them were all the inhabitants of the village. At the head of the gravesite, stood her uncle Virgil who would conduct the ceremony.
Eulalie had abandoned her western clothes in favor of the simple blue robe that signified an unmarried adult woman. As the only guest at the funeral, Chief Macgregor had been asked to dress in the traditional mourning clothes of his people. He was wearing a kilt in the red and green tartan of the Macgregor clan. He also wore a black shirt and a double-breasted black jacket with gold buttons. Slung over his right shoulder was a set of bagpipes.
Eulalie knew that the coffin containing her mother’s body would be leaving from Angel’s house about now. As chief mourner, Angel would walk behind the coffin that would be carried on the shoulders of six height-matched pallbearers.
The villagers stood around the grave in a relaxed fashion. Small children weaved their way between the adults, playing the oblivious games of early childhood. Only when the coffin arrived would they go and stand quietly with their families.
“What happened when you arrived at the Task home?” Eulalie asked in an undertone. All she knew was that both Laurent and Laurie Task had been arrested for murder. She had been waiting to hear the details for days.
“After we took custody of Laurie from you we went straight to the Task house. My deputies kept him under guard in the car while two of us went inside to search. We had to wake a judge up to get the search warrant, but it didn’t take long. We found the photographs of the first two murders in the basement, along with the red ribbon. There was also a spade that he seemed to have used to bury them.”
The Eulalie Park Mysteries Box Set 2 Page 42