Emerald Moon

by Rick Murcer

  “There’s something, maybe more than one something, in these pictures. I feel it, but I just can’t see it.”

  “That’s why I came over here—to rescue you, again.”

  “So . . .”

  “Say please.”

  “Talk about a booty-kickin’ . . .”

  “Okay, Okay. I went for it. Can’t shoot me for trying.”

  “Don’t bet on it.”

  “If you would’ve listened to me when we got your smartphone, you’d know that you can make the screen bigger.”

  “Really?”

  Sophie raised her eyebrows. “Dang. You’re hopeless with this stuff. Good thing you’re a decent detective and still have a pretty good ass, or you’d never make it.”

  Reaching over, she tapped the screen of his phone and pulled up the first picture. With a quick motion of her fingers, she expanded the photo to display only part of it, but in focused detail.

  “Great, but I’m not sure I want to look that close at the light above Chloe’s mom’s head.”

  “You can shift it anywhere you’d like, then zoom in on that area.”

  “I get that; just show me again.”

  By then, Josh had sat down in the other seat opposite Manny, while Max and Alex moved to the bench seat on his left.

  “You guys ready to talk about Ireland?” asked Josh.

  “Give me a few minutes,” said Manny, already engrossed in the second picture.

  “Trance time. Anyone want some coffee?” grinned Alex.

  “Got any root beer?” asked Max.

  “Very funny,” said Manny, his eyes not leaving the phone.

  “So, Josh, come sit by me and tell me about the OPR investigation crap. I can help take the pain away, unless you like that sort of thing, then, well . . .” said Sophie.

  “Best offer I’ve had all day, but—”

  “That son of a bitch! How could I not see this whole thing? Damn it! Josh. I need you to call Chloe right now. I think I found something, but I need to ask her a question.”

  Out of his peripheral, he saw Sophie jump at the sound of his voice, but Josh was already dialing the satellite phone. “What is it?”

  “I’m not sure yet, I’ll let you know after I talk to Chloe. If I’m right. If not, I want some Irish coffee.”

  Silence is as powerful a force as any in the universe. It can bring a man to his knees, nearly insane with loneliness, or send a woman over the edge of a building without a second thought. It can heal or destroy, seemingly at its mysterious discretion. Manny felt all of its intent and purpose as he waited for Chloe to answer. Worse, the others felt it too. Then Josh handed him the phone.

  “Chloe?”

  “Did you find something, Manny?”

  “Maybe. Listen. Did your mother ever have a tattoo?”

  “Ah . . . none that I ever saw. She said she got drunk once and almost got one, but never did. Why?”

  “You’re dead sure. Think. This is important.”

  “All right . . . no, never. She didn’t care for the one on my . . . well, never mind. So she’d have to be drunk or in love . . . Oh my God! What is it?”

  “My guess is that she’s in love. Your mom and Argyle both have the ouroboros tattooed on their ankles.”

  Chapter-48

  Standing near the concourse’s large window, the figure dressed in a long trench coat and dark, almost ominous, sunglasses watched one FBI plane leave the runway and veer to the northeast. It was heading to Ireland and whatever fate awaited the five cops, who had so nobly dropped everything, including the cruise opportunity of a lifetime, to not only chase the mystery that was Argyle, but to help a comrade, a fellow cop, in need. Morons.

  Chivalry, especially the kind that reeked from Detective Williams, had long since become as antiquated as black-and-white television. Never mind the moral shit the detective spewed from his mouth. For some reason, the others in the six had bought into it . . . well, most of them. Surprise.

  The slow, methodical grin widened across her expectant face. That’s why they would all die. The plan had gone perfectly, right up to this very moment.

  Shifting feet, her thoughts went back to the beginning of the anguish that had so engulfed her less than six months ago. The lost significance of being alive, the uselessness of ever trying to make sense of all of that pain and torture that she had been so unfairly served had been maddening.

  Others lived life so unscathed, so blessed, but that wasn’t the case here, was it? How many times had that gun been in and out of her trembling lips because pulling the trigger was the only way out? But he’d changed all of that for her, hadn’t he?

  Just then, the second FBI Gulfstream hit the end of the runway and lifted gracefully into the air and immediately banked to the northwest, toward Michigan, carrying Jen Williams away from her father. The two had been so tight over the last year that even the Boss couldn’t get close. No problem now; they were separated and that was a sure thing. They were about to be more separated then either could ever imagine.

  There would be questions and statements, and the answers would be hard to find. The worst and most pathetic would be the most oxymoronic one of all: “How could this happen?” Or maybe: “Why didn’t security find it?” Or even: “We’re the damn Feds; this is impossible.” But getting a bomb on an FBI plane wasn’t impossible, especially if anyone knew what she knew. The second plane circled out of sight as she stepped closer to the window to get one more look. She licked her lips. In the next second, she felt for the cell phone hidden deep in her right pocket, touching the send button that would instantaneously rock this part of the world. The jet carrying Jen Williams and her entourage would explode over the Atlantic in a ball of fire that would rival the space shuttle Challenger’s demise. Just a little more pressure on the send key . . .

  Chapter-49

  “Damn it. What the hell does that mean? That Argyle set up the hits in Miami and that he knows that Ruby’s dead?” swore Alex.

  Manny handed Josh the cell phone, his anger running high. “Shit. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together. I mean I thought about . . . you know, it doesn’t matter. He’s got us running again, and he knows we have to go to Ireland. It makes sense that he could put something like that together. He has millions from his family’s inheritance and paying someone to kill Carousel’s folks would be a drop in the bucket. There’s a ton of ways he could have found out about Ruby’s demise: CNN, for one.”

  Josh shifted in his seat and leaned forward. “That’s true, and he’s been good at hiding the money so not even we can find it. But if he did do this, it begs questions we need answers for, pronto.”

  Max pulled his inhaler out, took a shot, and cleared his throat. “First question I have is why not just do it himself? It’s not like we’ve had luck running him down lately.”

  “That’s true,” said Manny, “but it might be too dangerous even for him around Miami. I mean, every cop within two hundred miles pretty much has his picture and vitals memorized, including airports and harbor patrols—”

  Sophie interjected. “And not to mention, he could accomplish two things at once: getting Manny and the rest of us to Miami while he’s setting up some sick-bitch trap in Ireland.”

  “You’re right. If we’ve learned anything, the Doctor never gets himself into something that he can’t see himself getting out of.”

  Josh frowned. “Was it dumb luck that we wrapped up Hayes and her husband, or was that part of Argyle’s deviate plan?”

  “Good question. Let’s take it step-by-step,” said Manny. “The Hayes’s kill Carousel security staff, including Richardson. They think the money’s good and do what Argyle tells them, including how to do it. Since they were both skilled and experienced, there would be little or no evidence at the scenes. Thus, you bring in the Feds. Then Ruby takes out her husband, which wasn’t hard to figure out once we got to their house. Part of me thinks that could have been hard for her, but maybe money talked louder than love, and that
was all she wrote for Simon Hayes.”

  “So far so good, I think,” said Josh.

  “We all know what happened with Ruby. The fact that she didn’t leave town confirms that there was another job she had to do, in my opinion. It also makes me wonder who that next victim could have been.” Manny ran his hand through his hair. “It might have been one of us.”

  It grew quiet and Manny supposed they were all contemplating just how close one of them had come to checking out at Ruby’s hand.

  Alex nodded. “So either way, Argyle wanted Ruby or Simon out of the way and when the time was right, all of the blame went to the one who was left. Hell, it might even have been a setup to get Ruby out of the way and tie up one more loose end.”

  “That’d be my guess,” said Manny.

  “Yeah, but how did he know we’d find Ruby? That was no walk in the park running her down,” said Sophie.

  “It wasn’t as hard as it could have been . . . but still, you make an interesting point,” agreed Manny. “Maybe he had something in place that would have helped us find her, if we hadn’t on our own.”

  Leaning back in his seat, he thought about his own words.

  Manny’s wheels began to roll in a direction he hadn’t considered. More and more, circumstances dictated that he look closer at another angle, another possibility, as disturbing as it might be. His stomach did one of those butterfly-flips and not because of turbulence. If what he was considering was true, they had big problems.

  Looking around the circle of friends, he had to choose his words carefully. The vein of trust this group had developed over the last two years would be threatened if he didn’t.

  “Remember the female deputy that Argyle murdered in my home the night we found Louise in the crawlspace? He’d recruited her, maybe even developed some kind of hypnosis or control over her, which led to a sense of loyalty none of us really understood.”

  “Here we go, you’ve been reading those case study books again, haven’t you?” asked Sophie.

  “Yeah. You should try it instead of erotica or porn,” prodded Alex.

  “Hey, those things keep the love life going, and I’m learning new things . . . just can’t really teach them in Sunday school.”

  Manny shook his head. “Anyway, there are a few things that someone like Argyle could execute like no one else on the planet. His training as a psychologist and his amazing charisma allows him to get people to trust him. That being accomplished, he’s able to explain away their problems and fears in one fell swoop and make it sound like his answers come from God Himself. I think that creates a sense of belonging or family that some people have never had, and who doesn’t want to be accepted for who they are? James Jones, the Branch Davidians, and Manson’s ‘family’ all fall under that umbrella.”

  “Okay, you’ve read the case studies, so I believe you, but why this cult lesson?” asked Alex.

  “Don’t shoot the messenger, but what if Argyle got to someone close to us? What if he promised them things that would, in their mind, change them forever, and show them how to get what they’ve always wanted?”

  “Whoa, dude. Are you talking mind-control stuff?” asked Sophie. “ ‘Cause that seems way out there, even for you.”

  “No, not mind control, more like a persuasion, like a sense of belonging that we all want. I read a quote once that says something like: If you buy into something that explains everything, you can be coaxed into doing about anything. I know it sounds out there, but we’ve seen some examples just in our own experiences. The Justice Club, the deputy, and what about the relationship between Jenkins and Argyle?”

  More silence. Manny looked around the compartment, wanting to see something that he hoped wasn’t there. Would there be a flicker in someone’s eyes, which would tell him that he was on the right track? There wasn’t.

  Finally, Alex spoke so softly that Manny strained to hear him. “Are you saying that one of us, sitting on this plane, could be involved with Argyle somehow?”

  “I’m not saying that at all, I’m only saying that we have to look into the possibility that the reason Argyle knew how things were going here, and what we were thinking, is because someone was feeding him info.”

  “I don’t know, Manny,” said Josh. “I mean, there were a lot of people involved in this investigation and how could you ever put a cork in that?”

  “You’re right, but how many people knew about finding Ruby’s condo? You were specific to just a few people, outside of us, about who we were looking for. Detective Swifton from Miami PD and her partner knew it was about Ruby, and so did Destina Flores, but who else?”

  It was Corner’s turn to sigh. “Damn it. You’re right. There couldn’t have been more than eight or nine people who knew about Hayes’s location. The others there, like the SWAT team, didn’t know who the subject was. They only knew what they were supposed to do.”

  Max rubbed his stubble. “Then what does the phone in the dumpster mean? The one that called Ruby’s cell? I know the lab is working at all of the angles on it, trying to make sure it wasn’t just a wrong number . . . What if it isn’t?”

  Manny bowed his head and stared at the veins in his hands.

  “It might mean nothing. It might mean that he didn’t get to anyone that close to us, or it might mean Argyle’s perfecting his technique, and he has more than one disciple.”

  Chapter-50

  The cell phone in the other pocket rang, and the slender finger of her right hand slid away from the send button. He said he’d call at this very moment and give instructions. He never failed, just like he promised.

  “Yes?”

  “Are you ready to make the call, to send the jet into a million pieces?”

  “Just waiting on your heart’s desire.”

  “I’ve decided it would be too easy and would distract Williams enough to turn back to the US, so I want you to go to plan B, as we discussed.”

  There was no stopping her sadistic smile. “I like that one. When should I begin?”

  “Are you clear on everything? Do we need to discuss it further? There can be no mistakes in the timing or the proper technique.”

  “No. I have your instructions memorized . . . beyond memorized.”

  “Good. In exactly thirty-six hours, not a minute sooner, you are to begin. Is that clear enough?”

  “It is, Fredrick. I’ll leave for Lansing then. I can’t wait to see the look on young Jennifer’s face.”

  “Nor can I, my friend, nor can I.”

  Chapter-51

  Shannon leaned against the right fender of the white and green squad car, arms folded under the late-night lights, and watched the Office of the Coroner roll out the last body from the Bayside Bed & Breakfast. The pounding in his head and the ache in his neck told him all he needed to know about the stress of the moment. He wondered if there was enough whiskey on the island to take away the pain—both mental and physical. He guessed he might find out.

  The CSU had done their job, and all that was left to do was to let the relatives of the three guests know their family members wouldn’t be coming home—at least, not in the way they had imagined. The techs rolled out the last gurney, the green body bag bouncing along the cobblestone path, and he suddenly felt the urge to release a scream that would cause people to believe he’d lost all of his chips. Not only the urge to scream, but the urge to have his hands sandwiched around Argyle’s neck for the duration. Just two days ago, no such thought would have taken hold in his mind. But two days is plenty of time to go from saint to sinner—and even worse, from civilized to savage. He had no compunction for executing such a transformation, at least in Argyle’s case.

  It had been horrible enough to see young Kathryn in the state Argyle had left her. Then to see what he’d done to modest Paddie and his woman was almost beyond comprehension. Shannon had eaten with the Harrises, drank with them, and kissed Paddie’s wife on Christmas Eve because of the mistletoe that always hung over their front door. Then poor Mary Wiggins.
She was a woman he’d dated and slept with a time or two. The two of them had shared secrets that only late-night pillow talk could coax from a couple. She hadn’t been the queen of his life, but she’d been a trusted friend and a confidant. He clenched his fist so hard that his fingernails broke the skin on the palm of his left hand. The blood began to drip to the ground. He scarcely noticed.

  And what of the three elderly guests, two sisters and a brother, apparently visiting Galway for a family gathering? They’d been treated with less respect than butchered pigs. Far less. At least swine were gutted for a purpose.

  These victims would never see another sunrise over Claddagh Village or watch it set over the Aran Islands. And for what reason? The compulsion of a sick, homicidal madman? Or was there more to it?

  He massaged the left side of his neck. Shannon knew what the training manual said, how you can’t do anything for the dead so you have to concentrate on the living, who in this case, was Haley Rose Franson. Except it wasn’t easy, was it? People die every day. Most by natural causes or by an accident, some because of war, but to die like this? The murdered should be remembered, never forgotten, not just for who they were, but for what they might have accomplished. He’d help with that.

  Added to his troubles was the fact that no one could locate Meav. None of her friends had seen her, and her phone went to voicemail after every call. His neck felt tighter.

  Just then, steps crunched gravel to his right. The newest detective in his department had stopped about two meters away and was staring at her feet. He’d met Kelly Gold a time or two. She was young, brunette, a little overweight, and attractive in a small-town sort of way. She had eyes as sharp as tacks. The opinion was that she was going to be a good one. However, this was no training session, inside the B&B or outside, and he felt irritation pull at the back of his mind at the thought of teaching a newbie anything, especially today.

  “What is it, Gold?”