“Until the zombie apocalypse.” Abby laughed nervously. “But since I’m not a big believer in zombies, yeah, spiders are scarier. You can get a nasty bite from a brown recluse, you know.”
“Yeah, okay, whatever you say, Abs.” Roger retrieved her fallen flashlight and handed it to her. Abby turned—and crashed into a wall of earth.
“Watch it,” Roger said. “There’s a funny curve here. I think this is where the Saint Sebastian’s catacombs ended. We make a little twist to the right—and I’m pretty sure it’s where, long ago, another church stood. I checked the old records. There was a Lutheran church here from about 1790 to 1830. It burned to the ground and there’s just parkland on top of us now.”
They made the turn. The earth was dug out a little differently—three shelves to a wall instead of four and there were no corpses in them.
Casting the beam of his flashlight around, Malachi said, “These shelves seem to be empty.”
“They were probably dug out, and the dead reinterred, after the church burned down. They might’ve been brought to Bonaventure Cemetery. I do know that the dead from some churches were reinterred, or whatever one calls it.”
“That makes sense,” Malachi agreed.
“They’re...not all empty,” Abby said. She was across from Malachi, inspecting the middle shelf. She brought her light up, illuminating the space, and gasped.
“Abby!” Roger shook his head, laughing. “There are going to be spiders down here!”
She turned. Her eyes, bluer than the sky, were caught in the glow of the light.
“It’s not a spider,” she said. “It’s a corpse.”
“There are corpses all over!” Roger protested.
“Not like this,” Abby said, and her tone was weak.
Malachi moved past her, hunkering down to get a good look at the body on the middle shelf that had been dug into the earth by hands that had lived in a far past day.
There was, indeed, a “fresh” corpse on the shelf.
It was that of a young woman. He had little medical training, but he’d seen his share of corpses.
He estimated that this one had been there about a month. She had bloated and browned, her skin tightening over her frame. She’d worn a baby-doll dress and still had one shoe; the other was missing.
The third finger on her left hand was missing, too.
* * *
“Well, that’s not going to be much of a secret tunnel anymore,” Roger said, leaning against the trunk of Jackson Crow’s car.
They’d been down there for a long time after discovering the corpse. Malachi had called it in to Jackson Crow, and Jackson had arrived with David Caswell and Kat Sokolov. They’d all been down in the tunnels waiting for Kat. She’d brought a medical bag and had gloved her hands and made a cursory inspection of the corpse where she lay.
Two crime scene techs had come behind them, bearing a litter. Scoops of earth were taken, bright lights beamed within the tunnel and the corpse was photographed from every conceivable angle. They’d been asked if they’d moved anything at all and, of course, they hadn’t. With David, Jackson, Malachi, Kat and two crime scene techs down in the tunnel, it had grown crowded. Roger and Abby had moved back through the tunnels to the priestly vault beneath the altar, and then up to the main church and out into the sunlight.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Malachi had said to Roger. “The paperwork awaits.”
“Roger, the tunnel couldn’t have been your secret. Someone else has definitely been down there,” Abby said.
He smiled at her. “Thank God you said that! I was hoping you didn’t think I managed to get that corpse down there. Oh, well, if I had put the corpse there, I wouldn’t have taken you down to find it. Unless, of course, I was trying to throw you off by bringing you down there to discover the corpse. Oh! Hey, don’t get any ideas! I obviously watch too many police shows on TV. I swear—I haven’t been down that far in ages. I’ve known about the tunnels under the church. A lot of the other guides in town know about them, too, but...mostly, we honor the city’s rulings on what we can and can’t show people. Like I said, it’s private property, so trespassing is against the law. I wouldn’t bring the average tourist down there. You know that, right? You believe me?”
“Of course I believe you, Roger,” Abby said.
“Oh, Lord! Are the police going to believe me?”
“I can’t tell you what other people will believe, but as far as I know, there isn’t anyone out there who thinks you’ve been running around murdering tourists.”
“No. I wouldn’t murder tourists. I make my living off tourists.” Roger shook his head. “I’m not the type to murder tourists because they gave a lousy tip or didn’t tip at all. I mean, there’ve been a few I wanted to slap, but even then...survival wins out!”
“Roger, I’ve wanted to slap a few tourists over the years, too,” Abby said, obviously trying to lighten the tone. As she spoke, the main doors to the church opened and the two crime scene techs appeared, bearing the litter holding the corpse—now covered with a clean white sheet—out to the ambulance. The others emerged into the sunlight behind them. Kat Sokolov waved and headed for the ambulance; she wasn’t letting this corpse out of her sight. Jackson Crow, Malachi and David Caswell strode toward them.
“Can you come down to the station and sign statements?” David asked Roger and Abby. “No way out of record keeping.”
“Of course,” Abby said.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Roger looked at Malachi and winced. “I did tell you that these tunnels aren’t on the beaten tourist path.”
Malachi patted his shoulder. “Not to worry. I told David that I insisted on going down there and that we were on federal law enforcement business. Your reputation as a tour guide will remain absolutely spotless.”
“Thanks,” Roger said a little huskily.
“Pile in,” Jackson told them. “I’ve got my old federal-issue SUV. We’ll all fit.”
They did pile in; David Caswell and Jackson Crow were in front.
Abby was in the back between Malachi and Roger. Despite Malachi’s words, Roger was still agitated. He seemed nervous the entire time they were at the station, although Malachi did most of the talking and they were both merely asked if they had anything to add. When Malachi was asked why he’d felt it was important to get down into the tunnels, he said flatly, “I believe that the person or persons killing young women in Savannah now thinks of himself as some kind of pirate. I believe that he—or he and his accomplice—kidnaps these young women and brings them through to the river via the various tunnels.”
Eventually, the statements were signed and they were free to go. Jackson drove back to the Dragonslayer.
“Wow. Lord. Oh, God,” Roger moaned when they pulled into the parking lot at the tavern. He looked at Abby as if everything that had happened today was finally hitting him. “There was a dead girl in the tunnel. Not long dead. Newly dead.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “You brought us there and we found her. That’s a good thing, Roger.”
“She’s dead. How can that be good?”
“Finding her could help us catch the killer,” Abby replied.
“She’ll still be dead,” Roger said dully.
“But,” Malachi added, “the fact that her body’s been found could bring some solace to her family. For those left behind, there’s comfort in knowing that a killer is brought to justice.”
Roger got out of the car. “Uh, did you want more of a tour?” he asked.
“Not today,” Malachi said. “But if I have any questions about the city, I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, all right. I’ll probably be in the Dragonslayer later,” Roger muttered. “Might see you then.”
They watched him walk to his car. “That was good of you,” Abby told Malachi. “It wa
s really kind of you to speak to him the way you did. I know he was afraid he was a suspect.”
Malachi looked at her. “He is a suspect,” he said.
Abby frowned.
“Everyone’s a suspect right now,” Jackson explained. “Let’s go into the Dragonslayer. We’ll see what Will’s managed with the cameras so far.”
Abby walked slowly toward the restaurant. She had a sick feeling inside. She believed in Roger; they’d gone to high school together!
But she believed in Dirk as well, and their other customers and Macy and...
It didn’t have to be anyone close to her. Maybe the Dragonslayer had been used, just as, perhaps, the Black Swan had been used.
She took a deep breath and entered the restaurant.
It was after lunch but before dinner. Will Chan was at the bar talking to Dirk, Aldous and Bootsie.
Malachi walked over as if he’d known the four of them all his life. “Hey, Dirk. How are you? Have you heard that our Mr. Chan’s a fine actor and magician?”
Dirk nodded absently. “I’m all right,” he said. He didn’t look all right. He was parchment-white. He turned to Malachi anxiously. “According to the TV news, another body was just found in a tunnel. A woman.”
“It wasn’t Helen,” Malachi assured him.
“But how do you know?” Dirk asked.
“Poor girl was dead long before Helen disappeared,” Malachi told him. He rested a hand on Dirk’s shoulder. “The bad news is that a number of young women have lost their lives. The good news is that the local police and the feds are working hard on the case. The streets will be full of police and agents who know what they’re looking for and I’d bet money that, with these combined efforts, the truth will come out and the killer will be caught.”
Dirk nodded. “Did you work today?” Malachi asked him.
“I took the first tour group out. I let the guys handle the second. My other actress was back so...I’m okay.”
“Yeah, he’s doing fine,” Bootsie said.
“I was telling him that if he wanted, I’d head out with him tomorrow,” Will put in. “I’d love to play pirate.”
“The tours are fun,” Abby said. She felt as though she was playing a part at that moment. Pretending everything was normal. Pretending that the Dragonslayer would go on as it always had, and that Gus would be there in spirit. Women were not dead and missing—and Gus had not been suspicious of anything before he died.
Malachi’s phone rang and he answered it, stepping aside. When he hung up, he and Jackson seemed to share some kind of intuitive exchange.
“I’ve got to run out,” Malachi said.
“We’ll show Abby the cameras we’ve got set up.” Jackson nodded to Will, who nodded back.
“See you all later,” Malachi told them. He offered her a strange smile. She sensed that he was trying to tell her he wasn’t avoiding her, but that he didn’t want to be heard by anyone else. That the connection between them was private. She smiled in return.
As he left the restaurant, Macy came up to her. “Have you eaten anything?” she asked.
“I’m not hungry right now. I’ll eat soon, Macy, I promise,” Abby replied.
“We’re going to show her what I’ve been up to all day,” Will explained to Macy. He slipped an arm around Abby’s shoulders. “Come and see your new security system. We’ll start upstairs.”
He headed up the stairs, Abby behind him and Jackson at her heels. “First camera,” Will said, “covers the hall here, in front of the apartment. It’ll show up on computer screens in the parlor area of the apartment, and in the living room at your house.” He opened the door to the apartment. A large screen, divided into eight sections, was set up on a portable table with a chair in front of it. “Down at the bottom—with the strange light filter—that’s the tunnel. Here, upper left, you have the hall. Then you have the storage room and the employee lockers and lounge area. Below that you’ve got the bar and the front entry, and the two back-to-back dining rooms. Your last camera covers the outside, the whole structure of the building. I want to make sure we can see anyone trying to get in through any other entrance.”
“That’s fantastic. Very high-tech,” Abby said.
“Thanks. I do love computers and cameras,” Will told her. “But I plan to be on Dirk’s ship tomorrow. We’ll have Kat and Angela manning these cameras, just watching what’s going on—and trying to see if anything is going on. Frankly, I think this guy moves around. I think he uses different routes to get to the river.”
“You’re right,” Abby murmured.
“The cameras will help.” Will smiled at her. “I guess you have a guardian angel of sorts.”
“Oh?”
Will looked at Jackson.
“The pirate,” Jackson said, smiling, too.
“Did you get Blue on film?” she asked incredulously.
Will shook his head. “He passed by while I was setting up the camera in the tunnel. He didn’t speak to me, but he nodded, as if he approved.”
“I haven’t seen him. I haven’t seen Blue since he led me to Gus,” Abby said.
“I assume he’s keeping watch. That’s what he does for the Dragonslayer. He really is your guardian angel,” Jackson said. “We’ve all learned that there’s really no point in questioning how and when the dead choose to communicate with us. Or why some stay—and some leave. We just work with them whenever they’re willing to work with us.”
Abby nodded. “Thank you for coming here.”
* * *
“We’re looking at very much the same thing as with the other killings,” Kat told Malachi. “She was struck on the head. But the actual cause of death was drowning. And, as I’m sure you already noted, third finger of the left hand is gone. I’d say she’s been dead a good three to four weeks. Do you see the marks on her wrists? They suggest she was bound by some kind of rough rope. But, you’ll notice, there are bruises on her arms. I think she fought back.”
Malachi nodded. This poor girl didn’t look real anymore.
“Has she been identified?” he asked.
“The police are going through missing-person reports,” Kat said, “and Jackson has sent what information we have to the national database back at the offices. So far, we don’t have an identity for her.”
“That would probably put her into the same category as the other women,” Malachi said slowly. “She was a tourist, perhaps on her own. Or maybe she was here looking for work. Maybe she was just passing through—so people are searching for her somewhere else.”
“I wish there was more I could say, more I could tell you.”
Malachi took a step closer to the corpse, setting his hand gently on her arm. He felt nothing except her cold, lifeless skin.
“I tried that,” Kat murmured.
Malachi nodded; he wasn’t surprised.
“I’m going over the other autopsies, looking for anything,” Kat said. “Oh, there’s one other thing I should tell you. We did match the finger to a victim.”
For a moment, he blanked. “Who?” he asked.
“It belonged to the first victim, Ruth Seymour.”
“The killer must have been carrying it around,” Malachi said.
“David has all the information for the reports. He was disturbed, of course, that Gus hadn’t called the police. But it’s too late to ask Gus why he didn’t. Maybe he was afraid he’d be a suspect himself? We’ll never know. But at least we found out where the finger belongs.”
“Thanks, Kat.” He sighed. “I’ll get back to the Dragonslayer now. There’s something forming in my mind. I’m not sure yet what it is. But—”
“Hurry it up if you can,” Kat broke in. “We have a girl out there who might still be alive.”
“I know,” Malachi said. “I know.
”
* * *
Jackson Crow left the Dragonslayer to head back to Abby’s house on Chippewa Square to meet up with Angela. They were doing character studies on everyone associated with or working in the area of the river. He didn’t tell Abby that they were concentrating on employees and frequent customers of Dirk’s tour ship and the Dragonslayer. He didn’t need to tell her, she knew.
Alone in the apartment, Abby watched everything revealed by the newly installed cameras. She was fascinated as she went from screen to screen; once the dinner hours began, customers came and went.
Bootsie, Aldous and Dirk remained at the bar. When he wasn’t busy with other customers, Sullivan hung out there and chatted with them.
She watched as Macy spoke with Grant Green, giving him the day’s report. She could see Macy go up the stairs and into the manager’s office. Macy gathered up her belongings. She hesitated at the door to the apartment as if she meant to knock, but didn’t. Instead, she walked downstairs, obviously preparing to leave.
Abby thought about stopping her; she didn’t.
As she stared at one of the screens, she gasped. She’d been looking at the dining room with the grate to the tunnel and the image of Blue Anderson. But as she watched, Blue seemed to step out of his own image. He peered into the grate, then slipped through.
Abby jumped up and hurried down the stairs. Luckily, it was growing later by then. There were a few diners but none near the image of Blue. Rather than taking the main stairway, she hurried to the back of the storage room and came down the winding stone steps. At the grate, she fell to her knees and opened the combination lock that held the grating closed. She’d moved casually, but quickly and silently. With the grate open, she caught hold of the sides and slid down, hopping the last foot. It was dark in the tunnel but she’d come with her light and her Glock—she wasn’t taking chances.
She shone the light over the tunnel.
There was something—someone—in the shadows.
She lifted the light higher.
For a moment, it was as if she saw Blue in the flesh, he was that solid and real to her. He seemed to stand there in living color.
Krewe of Hunters, Volume 3: The Night Is WatchingThe Night Is AliveThe Night Is Forever Page 45