Emerald Moon

by Rick Murcer

  “I am, this time.”

  “Good enough for me. Okay. Then where are we headed?” Josh prompted, his pilot blue eyes more alive than ever.

  “To where all of this began.”

  The pilot yelled back to Manny. “This is unusual, Detective, but if this is where you want to land, I can manage it.”

  Manny looked into the face of each his friends, old and new alike, and released the most confident smile he’d unleashed in a year. “Manage it.”

  Then Manny pointed to Detective Clark. “I need you to make a couple of calls.”

  Clark shrugged, “All right, this seems to be your show.”

  After huddling with Clark, Manny turned back to the others. “I’d bet the farm that Dr. Fredrick Argyle will be joining us at Dunguaire Castle within the hour.”

  Chapter-68

  “Nothing to this sailing thing. I should have taken it up sooner,” said Argyle, throwing a look at Haley Rose who was now secured tightly on the small, wood-grained deck. He’d added the precaution of covering her mouth with duct tape.

  He’d managed to navigate up the southern Kinvara Bay coast without incident. Although the strong odor of dead and decaying sea life was less than pleasant, it was a miniscule price to pay to finish what he’d started those years ago. All of his hard work, all of the preparation, even the times he hid away, rocketed through his thoughts.

  A quiver of raw rage snaked through his body and then lingered for a moment before he sent it away. He’d managed to keep it under control for months, waiting to set it free at the right time, the one coming soon. The special one just for Manny Williams. He closed his eyes. A split-second later, he was himself and in full control, as always.

  The dark purples and streaming oranges of the perfect sunset were dissipating with the setting Irish sun, and he couldn’t ignore the simile. Williams’s day in the sun would soon be over.

  He anchored fifteen feet off the shallow shore, near a small cove with tall rock formations on each side. He had the perfect cover for what was coming next.

  The bright lights that reached up from the center of Dunguaire Castle were impossible to miss and that would be a good thing. That kind of light show would keep the attention away from him and the small body of water just underneath the back side of the castle. That would be Haley Rose’s final resting place. After he had taken care of the small detail of breaking her neck, or shooting her, he would drop her body down to the forty-five-foot, murky bottom of that pool, anchors attached, and no one would ever find her. It was a tantalizing reason to keep Special Agent Chloe Franson from dying in the coming onslaught, if he could. The frustration, Chloe’s immeasurable torture of never finding her mother’s body—never achieving the fabled closure everyone seemed to require— would probably drive her to the brink, maybe even over.

  Small detail of breaking her neck . . .

  The increasingly familiar sense of discomfort crept over him like the new darkness surrounding the ship. This was the third time in the last two hours he’d felt this way, and it was stronger than ever. He seemed helpless to avert his eyes from her as she lay propped against the small cabin extension, which rose a few feet above the deck. She seemed to sense his gaze and captured his look with a powerful, pleading look of her own.

  What kind of magic is this?

  He walked to her. “No screaming, yes? If you do, your life will be over before the last vestiges of sound escape your pleasant face.”

  She nodded slowly that she understood, and he knew he could believe her. Haley Rose didn’t lie; she didn’t see the need for it. At least they agreed on that.

  “Fredrick, I see your wheels turning and that rage that seems to come and go, and it makes me wonder what happened to you. You can talk about evolving, or whatever, but there’s something much darker than that.”

  “Ms. Franson, while I’m touched by your concern, you simply don’t have a clue, and I’ll not go over it again.”

  Haley Rose nodded, then rested her chin on her chest. “Fredrick, I don’t want to die,” she whispered. “I’m not ready.”

  The waves lapped steadily at the port side of the boat as he contemplated her words. Her death would weigh on him a little, and the special appreciation that had grown for her was still there, but she really didn’t understand the big picture. What a privilege it would be to die at his hand. “Just think of it as your life-long accomplishment. You will forever be linked to my greatness; many have died without that opportunity.”

  “I . . . I don’t know how I could’ve been so wrong. You said you had feelings for me.”

  Kneeling closer to her, he pushed the hair from her face. “I don’t have those kinds of feelings, as I’ve said twice before. While you are different than the others, you are still just a means to an end. Do you understand that, at least?”

  “Then I guess I have no choice,” she said.

  Before she could let loose the scream, he’d clamped his hand over her face, grabbed the strip of tape used to keep her quiet, and pressed it over her mouth.

  “My fine Haley Rose, you promised,” he grinned. Then he lifted her off the deck, and sat her against the small aluminum railing to the left of the wheel. Reaching to his right, he pulled two forty-pound anchors from under the blue canvas, wrapped the black chain around her waist, and attached the anchors.

  He stood quietly, feeling small dots of perspiration form on his lip, which puzzled him. It wasn’t really warm outside, and attaching the anchors had required almost no physical effort. This woman most certainly has an odd effect on me.

  Reaching out, he ran his hand along her arm and spoke softly. “It’s time to say goodbye, Haley Rose Franson.”

  The tears came, but she raised her head in defiance. The look from her eyes gained his undivided attention. It forced him to hesitate, again.

  She actually still cares for me.

  It was more than unsettling, but he’d waited years for this night. A few tears and a lovesick look were of no consequence.

  “You are a strange one,” he said softly. With that, he pulled the Kimber 1911 .45 caliber with the customized suppressor from his waistband and placed it against her temple. She fixed her eyes on his as he released the handle safety and pulled back the hammer. The subtle click caused her to jump, but her gaze never wavered.

  He waited. That sense of appreciation had returned, like a lion’s roar pounding his mind, and it could not be ignored. He felt more sweat form on his forehead and wiped it away with his free hand.

  “I actually find no pleasure in this, but I really must go forward.”

  He began to squeeze the trigger, but the boat became engulfed in light as bright as day. He began to turn to the source of the lights, but never made the full turn.

  A single shot rang through the quiet air, much louder than it should’ve been. He pitched forward against the railing and bounced back to the deck, not understanding what had happened. The searing, burning pain radiating from his left shoulder explained it. He was the one that had been shot, not Haley Rose.

  “Your killing days are over, Argyle.”

  He recognized Detective Williams’s voice and immediately laughed out loud.

  “Congratulations. You’ve finally outguessed me, Detective.”

  Struggling to his knees, he quickly looked around him. He saw the oriental bitch to his right, standing on one of the large black rocks of the beach, Glock pointed his way. Josh Corner and Alex Downs were in almost the same position, only to his right. Behind them seemed to be an army of constables. But in front of all of them, directly in his line of sight, only twenty feet from him, stood Manny and Chloe, both with guns leveled in his direction, wisps of smoke still dancing around Manny’s weapon.

  “Drop the gun, Argyle; do it now,” said Manny.

  Ignoring the pain that would have most men begging for help, he had to ask. “Why Detective, you didn’t seem to have much conviction in that request. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you didn’t want me to d
rop it at all. Then again, that would make it easier, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would. But that’s what separates us from pieces of shit like you, isn’t it? We’re not going to murder you.”

  “No need for name-calling, Detective.” He looked at the gun in his hand, sighed, then slid it along the deck to just short of the other railing, well out of his reach.

  “So what allowed you to make this jump to where I was, if I may be so bold? You haven’t had time to get to the Plassey to find the obvious clue that would lead you here.”

  Argyle watched the detective smile and hated him even more.

  “Maybe you’re not as clever as you think, Doc. But the full circle that you have tattooed on your ankle said you were going back to the beginning, and in this case, it meant Dunguaire Castle.”

  Manny waded through ten feet of water, never taking his eyes from him, heading for the boat’s ledge. Chloe was right behind Manny, some ten feet away from Argyle. The sailboat rocked, and it took Manny a second to recover his balance. That’s all Argyle needed. He jumped up, spun to where Haley Rose sat, grabbing her by the arms. He intended to escape over the side, taking her, anchors and all, with him.

  Chapter-69

  The late afternoon sun was still bright, but it had lost most of its luster. She thought that a good thing. She was getting antsy and wanted the night to fall. Things were easier in the dark. At least, the things she had planned.

  She’d killed some time shopping, and shopping was almost always a good thing, but after hitting both malls, she’d had enough. She hadn’t even bought anything for herself. That really was one for the record books.

  Shifting to fourth gear, she rolled by the Williams’s house again, noticing the police chief’s car still in the driveway; the emblem on the grey Impala said so. How nice of Gavin Crosby to babysit. She’d enjoy that encounter too. She peeled rubber and raced up Aurelius Road.

  They didn’t really think an old fart like Crosby could protect Jennifer from someone like Fredrick, did they? They seemed to have no clue how long his arm really was and how loyal someone like her could be. Idiots.

  Swinging back on Cedar Street, she decided to head to the Mexican restaurant, Los Tres Amigos, she’d seen earlier. Hopefully, it was as good as advertised. A margarita and a plate of shrimp fajitas would definitely hit the spot.

  Besides, there were only so many times she could drive by the detective’s house without being noticed, especially in the Mustang. She didn’t want to be too obvious.

  They’d notice her soon enough however, wouldn’t they?

  Chapter-70

  Life was never easy, never cut-and-dried. That would make it predictable to an extent, comfortable. And there was nothing comfortable about what Manfred Robert Williams had chosen to do for a living.

  “Stop! I’ll shoot,” Manny yelled, already in motion. Argyle knew they wouldn’t take a chance on hitting Haley Rose and was about to take full advantage of that knowledge.

  Manny launched his full six-foot-two frame into the air, focusing only on the doctor’s legs. He missed. Not because of his aim, but because Argyle had stopped moving. He plowed into the big man’s back and heard the air leave Argyle’s lungs as they landed with a thump on the hard deck.

  Talk about music to my ears.

  He’d waited a long time to see the psycho bastard in pain, and it was surprisingly pleasant. But this party wasn’t over. He’d always known the man was strong, except he hadn’t realized just how strong. Blood oozing from the gunshot in his shoulder didn’t seem to bother Argyle as he reached back with his left hand and grabbed Manny’s fingers, twisting with authority. He heard the cracking as immediate pain rushed through his hand and arm, bolting to his brain, displaying bright patterns of colorful stars in the process. He gritted his teeth and pulled free from the doctor’s grasp.

  By that time, Argyle had somehow managed to turn over onto his back, Manny astride, and reached his right hand to Manny’s throat. Manny had never felt anything like it. It was as if he was held in a steel vice. His breath immediately left his body, causing him to dig at the hand that meant to crush his throat. At that point, he noticed Chloe out of the corner of his eye, just to his right. He watched as she kicked at Argyle, landing a good shot to his ribs, then did it again. Her foot never reached its intended goal the second time. Argyle reached out with his left hand, grasped her foot and pulled her off her feet. The sickening sound of body hitting deck echoed through his ears as Chloe went down in a heap and lay motionless.

  Manny glanced at her then back to Argyle, all the while his hands working to remove what couldn’t seem to be removed.

  His thoughts sprinted to Louise lying on the floor of their home, life ebbing from her as the blood poured from the gunshot in her chest, all because he’d struggled with her killer. The semblance was maddening, and for a moment, one brief moment, he must have gone completely insane because no one goes through that twice in a lifetime . . .no one.

  Reality took him by the hand and whispered that he wasn’t crazy. He believed it.

  The anger, the rage, and the frustration from the last year of his tortured life overtook. He had ignored it long enough, no more. Red was now the color of his world. Grabbing Argyle’s wrist with his right hand, he twisted and felt it give way. Argyle yelped in pain and quickly released his grip on Manny’s throat, his wrist broken in two places. Manny pulled back his right hand, smashed it against Argyle’s nose, and felt the cartilage collapse as blood spurted from the bridge. He did it again, and felt the orbital bone under Argyle’s left eye shatter into fine pieces, more blood spraying through the Irish night.

  Amazingly, the Good Doctor hadn’t given up the fight, grabbing for Manny’s arm with his left hand. Manny assumed he was trying to pull him over and twisted away, escaping the clutch. But Argyle hadn’t been after his arm at all; instead he wanted the Glock stuffed into Manny’s shoulder holster, dangling loosely during their struggle. Just as Argyle’s hand closed over the handle, Manny, in one motion, slammed the doctor’s hand away and pulled the Glock himself. He then shoved the black barrel hard into Argyle’s forehead. “Party’s over. Make another move, and I’ll end your ugly ass.”

  Good memories can stay in your mind forever, bad memories forever and a day. The memory of Argyle’s knowing grin, as Manny would recall from time-to-time, hid somewhere in both worlds because of what happened next.

  “Then end me you must. But will it be over? One never knows, Detective, one never knows.”

  Without a blink, he reached for his belt buckle. Manny looked down just long enough to notice the red liquid vial attached to the center of the letter “A.”

  He pulled the trigger and watched Doctor Fredrick Argyle’s taunting smile vanish in the wake of blood and gray matter that instantly covered the deck.

  “End it, I have,” Manny whispered.

  Chapter-71

  The floodlights scattered along the semi-rocky beach of Kinvara Bay, turning the night to day, scattering prisms of color from the light’s reflections. Manny, for one, was glad they did. It seemed like he’d held hands with darkness for an eternity. Hell, maybe longer.

  Sitting in the middle of three—Alex sat on his left, Sophie on his right—they were on a very large rock, near the tall outcropping of the inlet some twenty-five feet from the Bay. He rested with his bandaged left hand supported on his knee.

  Chloe, bandage on her forehead, kneeled near her mother on the same shining, black rock, a few feet to his left. Josh and Detective Clark stood talking off to his right.

  Intentional or not, he felt circled and protected by friends he’d grown to love and care for like family. Not a bad way to go. And isn’t that how it should be? In the triumphs, and the tragedies of life, everyone needs someone to walk with them. He was grateful he had that.

  “Okay, Buddy Boy. Give it up,” said Sophie.

  Alex leaned around him and grinned at Sophie. “For once, we agree. Give it up Williams.”

  “
What the hell are you two talking about?”

  “Damn, you can be dense,” said Sophie, shaking her head. “What was it like to punch that asshole’s ticket? To see him go bye-bye, straight to hell, get it?”

  Manny reflected on the obvious answer, but that wasn’t quite right, was it? “It made me a million things: happy, relieved, grateful, frustrated, and almost sad.”

  “Sad? Frustrated, what in God’s name for?” asked Alex, puzzlement on his face.

  “I don’t know. I can’t explain it. Maybe it has to do with what Argyle could have been, could have accomplished. What he could have given to the rest of the world. Instead, he chose the road he did.”

  Sophie grabbed his head with both hands and scanned his face. “I’ll give you a little bit of that ‘think the best of someone’ shtick once in a while. Hell, you might even be right, once in a while. Other times you’re so full of shit, it colors your eyeballs. This is one of them. You loved watching him check out, didn’t you?”

  Running his good hand through his hair, he looked at his shoes, then back to her. “More than I care to admit. But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong about the other things I said.”

  Patting his face with her hands, she kissed him on the cheek. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

  Looking to Alex for help, Manny got none. “I’m with her on this one,” Alex said, “but I’m not kissing you. People would talk.”

  “Okay then,” said Sophie. “Dough Boy, let’s go see what’s going on with Josh and Clark.”

  “Deal . . . and stop calling me Dough Boy.”

  Manny watched his two friends tramp off in Josh’s direction, and his smile returned. They were both something else, maybe more than family.

  Adjusting the bandage, he suddenly became aware of her gaze. Haley Rose stood above him, targeting him with the same eyes her daughter had inherited. She was a beautiful woman, even at forty-nine. He had a quick glimpse of Chloe in fifteen or twenty years, and it was . . . exciting.