The Night Is Alive koh-10

by Heather Graham

  “Hey, yourself. How are you doing?”

  “Okay. Dirk came to see me.” She smiled. “With Aldous and Bootsie. Aldous is a sweetheart. He told me he’s been so worried, he almost grew back some hair.”

  Abby laughed, then glanced at Malachi.

  He nodded, letting her know she should do the talking for now.

  Abby drew a deep breath. “Helen, we think he’s taken another woman.”

  Helen’s eyes closed; she went gray, trembling visibly. “I’m so sorry!” she whispered.

  “You’re the only one who can help us.”

  Helen shook her head. “I don’t know how,” she said, her voice raspy. “I just...don’t.” Her eyes opened and she stared at Abby. “I never believed in ghosts before. And I know he was supposed to be a gentleman pirate, and that Errol Flynn and Johnny Depp made pirates seem cool, but...it was Blue, Abby. I know it was Blue Anderson. He’s dead, but somehow...”

  “Helen, it wasn’t Blue. And even if he came back as a ghost, he’d never do anything like this. It’s someone dressing up as Blue.”

  “But...”

  “Think about it, Helen. You know that has to be true.”

  Malachi stepped forward, dragging a chair closer to Helen, across from Abby. “Helen, you were hurt. You were hit on the head. You were abused and kept in a dark place. You’re being wonderful, but what we need you to do is try to remember every little detail. What happened right before Abby pulled you out of the water?”

  Helen’s forehead wrinkled with her effort. “I remember hearing water. I remember it being dark, and I remember the man...Blue.”

  “It wasn’t Blue. It was someone dressed as Blue,” Malachi said again. Abby frowned at him, but Helen let out a breath.

  “Someone dressed as Blue,” she agreed listlessly. “I—I only saw him briefly. He put something on my eyes.”

  “He blindfolded you?” Abby asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You remember him being in the room,” Malachi said. “What kind of room?”

  “It was...I think it was a cabin.” Tears welled in Helen’s eyes. “Touching me,” she said with a whisper.

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to remember that part right now,” Malachi said. “But did he wear cologne or aftershave? Do you remember anything about his voice?”

  “It was gruff—like a pirate’s voice.”

  “Do you remember any other sounds? Did you ever hear people?” Malachi asked.

  Abby glanced at him and set a gentle hand on Helen’s. She carefully avoided the IV dripping fluids into a vein in Helen’s arm, but tried to comfort the young woman.

  “I didn’t hear people...” Helen said. Then she bit her lip. “Yes, once...but it was early on. I thought I heard people. Maybe music. And tapping. A rhythmic tap...tap...tap. Only sometimes. Maybe it was a band...”

  “Thank you, Helen,” Abby said.

  Malachi took over again. “What do you remember about being held captive?”

  Helen shuddered; Abby reached over and smoothed down a lock of her hair.

  “I was in the bed...the bunk...whatever. It wasn’t comfortable. He said I was a captive who’d fallen in love with him. But he repulsed me. He...he made me want to vomit. I gagged or choked and then...then he was angry. He told me I was a bad captive.”

  “Helen, was he with you all the time?” Malachi asked.

  “I don’t...I don’t know. I remember lying there...my hands were bound and my feet were tied to something and I couldn’t move. He’d go away...and then he’d be back. And then he’d touch me again. So...so disgusting. I couldn’t—I couldn’t pretend. I couldn’t be what he wanted, couldn’t even pretend to be in love with him. He was very angry. My hands were still bound, but then...then he untied my feet...my ankles, I guess. He jerked me up and wrenched my hand around and...I felt one of his hands holding mine down on a table or something and then—”

  She broke off with a sob.

  “He cut you,” Abby said quietly.

  “He cut off my finger!” Helen sobbed. “I can still hear the sound. There was a whoosh...and then I felt the slam of it...and I felt the pain. I was still blindfolded but I knew...I knew it was my finger.” She continued to sob.

  “Oh, Helen!” Abby said, stroking her cheek gently. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Malachi apologized to Abby with his eyes but she obviously understood that he had to press forward. “Helen, he took your finger while your blindfold was on. What then?”

  “He dragged me along the floor,” Helen began. “Maybe...maybe there was music again. I heard a beat...tap, tap, tap. And I thought I heard laughter across the water. I—I felt the night air on my skin. I knew he had a knife and I thought he was going to stab me. But he cut the ropes—and then I was in the water. I was suddenly in the water, and I was trying so hard to swim, but I was in pain, and my arms...they were so stiff. I got the blindfold off. I...I don’t know what happened to it. I don’t even know what it looked like. I couldn’t swim. I felt so heavy, I was all tangled up in something....”

  “You were found wearing a wench costume,” Malachi told her. “Do you recall changing into it, or when you were changed into it?”

  Helen shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes again. “I’m so sorry. I should just be grateful to be alive!”

  “Helen, it’s okay,” Abby said. “You were assaulted, you were nearly killed. That’s a terrible trauma, and you’ll probably need counseling to get over it. But don’t worry now. You’re safe here, protected by people who’d die before they let anything else happen to you!”

  “I owe you both my life,” Helen said.

  “You owe your life to your own will and strength, Helen,” Malachi said firmly. “You are a survivor. You’re going to be fine. And don’t apologize for the pain you feel, and don’t ever apologize for crying. You have real inner strength, and you’re going to get through this.”

  Helen managed a shaky smile.

  There was a knock at the door. A tall, brawny male nurse was there; Malachi wondered if he’d been specially chosen to watch over Helen, just in case there was trouble. He didn’t doubt that Jackson Crow might have seen to such a thing.

  “There are a few people out here asking to see Ms. Long,” the nurse announced.

  “Oh?”

  “I told them only two at a time. There’s a fellow out here named Roger English and a couple of others—Jack Winston and Blake Stewart.” He shrugged. “Earlier, they said it was fine for Mr. Johansen to see her with his friends. But I was told to check with whoever’s here from enforcement.”

  Malachi could see that Abby was about to get up and prevent anyone from coming near Helen.

  “Abby, could you talk to Roger for a minute? Tell him Helen’s had it very rough and that he shouldn’t push her. I think it’s okay for the other two gentlemen to come in right away. But, of course, that’s up to Helen.” He turned to her.

  Helen nodded. “Yes, of course. I want to see my friends, but I— Abby? Would you run that brush through my hair?”

  “Of course!” Abby hastened to do as she was asked.

  When she was finished, Helen said, “How silly—I’m lucky to have my life and I’m worried about how I look.”

  “That’s not silly,” Malachi assured her. “That’s life-affirming.”

  “And you look beautiful,” Abby said.

  “Wenches are supposed to be tough, aren’t they?” Helen asked.

  Abby smiled, glanced at Malachi and hurried out. A minute later, the two young actors who worked for Dirk came into the room. Malachi studied them. They looked very different from the way they had when he’d seen them on the Black Swan.

  Jack Winston, the older and more confident of the two, was dressed in a T-shirt that advertised Guinness and a pair of stylishly threadbare jeans. He was well-built and had a naturally cocky way about him, but his eyes were filled with tenderness as he walked in. Blake was younger and his heart appeared to be prominent
ly displayed on his sleeve as he followed Jack. Tall and lanky, he wore jeans as well, but had on a polo shirt.

  “Helen!” Jack said.

  “Hi,” Blake greeted her. Jack kissed Helen on the cheek; Blake stood awkwardly beside the bed.

  “Hey, you two!” she said.

  Jack didn’t seem to recognize Malachi. He walked over to him and thrust out his hand. “I’m Jack Winston and this is Blake Stewart. We work with Helen. We’ve been worried sick. We, uh, called the hospital and they said it was okay to visit.”

  “Sure. Helen needs to see her friends,” Malachi said, shaking hands with Jack. Blake seemed confused, as if he should know him but didn’t. Malachi smiled. “Malachi Gordon. I’m a private investigator working as a consultant with the federal unit down here.”

  “Oh, uh, great,” Blake said. Still confused, he turned back to Helen.

  Jack did the talking; he was a good bedside guest. He regaled her with tales of kids who’d been on the ship and told her how much she’d been missed. Blake listened, just staring at Helen, his infatuation evident.

  He sat down, taking the place Abby had been in before. “Helen...oh, God. Oh, Helen, we missed you so much! We’re so glad... Anything, anything you need or want, you let us know. We’ll get it for you!”

  “I’m going to be okay, Blake. Abby and this gentleman here, Mr. Gordon—they saved me.”

  “I wish it had been me, Helen!” Blake said passionately. “I wish I could have saved you. If I ever find out who did this, I swear, I’ll kill him!”

  His words hung in the air for a minute. “You can’t say that,” Helen told him. “You...you have to let the law take care of him.”

  “Don’t worry,” Malachi said. “I understand how you feel, Blake. But she’s right. You have to leave this in the hands of the law.”

  Blake didn’t answer.

  Jack placed a hand on his shoulder. “They’ll get him, Blake. They’ll get him. Don’t upset Helen.”

  “I’m fine,” Helen said softly. Malachi thought she was; seeing how Blake felt meant something to her. His affection made her stronger.

  Just then, Abby came back into the room with Roger English, Roger looking duly chastised. He went over to Helen and bent down—then straightened abruptly and asked, “Is it all right if I kiss your cheek? It won’t hurt you or anything?”

  “I would love a kiss on the cheek,” she said.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay, Helen.” Roger kissed her cheek with great care.

  “Thank you, Roger.”

  He nodded, stepped back and looked at Malachi. He didn’t say anything else.

  Malachi rose. “Come on, Roger, let’s go get some coffee.”

  “So, Helen, we’re hoping you’ll be back with us soon. I mean, we want you to get rich and famous in a zombie movie, but we’d like you back with us, too,” Jack said.

  Roger came forward again. “Helen, he’s taken another girl. Her name is Bianca Salzburg. You might have met her.... She took some of the local tours and she might have been on the Black Swan. Helen, you have to remember—”

  “Stop it! Leave her alone!” Blake said.

  Malachi got up, stepping between the two of them and glancing at Abby.

  He clapped Roger on the back. “Kat should be back soon,” he told Abby.

  He was done at the hospital; he’d gotten from Helen everything he thought he could, and it was time to start going over what she had said, and trying to put the pieces together. Now, Helen deserved a little peace.

  As soon as he was outside the room with Roger, he said, “You were very good in there—at first. But we already told Helen that another woman is missing. She wants to help. I’m glad you came to see her, but badgering her won’t help. Abby explained that to you.”

  Roger was red-faced but he nodded dully. “They haven’t found Bianca yet. She hasn’t been back to her B and B, and she isn’t answering her cell.”

  Malachi didn’t tell him he was sure the police had put a trace on the phone. “We’re going to do everything we can” was all he said.

  “Can I tell Helen I’m sorry?” Roger asked.

  “I think it’s best if you don’t. She’s had enough for today.”

  “All right,” Roger said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Take a walk. See if you can think of anything. If you do, call me.” Malachi presented a card. It had nothing on it but his cell phone number.

  “You don’t even have a name on this,” Roger told him.

  “Doesn’t need it. You have my name. Call if you need me.”

  Roger nodded and glanced wistfully toward Helen’s hospital room. The uniformed officer on duty by the door stood there with his arms crossed looking at Roger.

  “I’m going,” Roger muttered, heading toward the elevator. “I guess I’ll check out the Dragonslayer.”

  Malachi watched him leave. As he did, an elevator door down the hall opened and Kat stepped off. She tried to keep the doors from closing but she didn’t move quickly enough. She apologized to Roger, who mumbled something, pushed the call button and stood there, waiting.

  Kat came down the hall. “Everything all right?” she asked Malachi.

  Malachi nodded, still watching Roger. “I think Helen’s had all the visitors she can handle for the day,” he said.

  “She has visitors in there now?”

  “Jack and Blake—the pirate actors she works with on the Black Swan.”

  “Ah. You let them in on purpose, I take it.”

  “I did.”

  “Suspects?”

  “I don’t think so. I think they’re just friends. No ulterior motives. But we can’t be sure yet.”

  “I’ll get the nurse to shoo them out. He’s a great guy and a major help. His name is Byron. He’ll do twelve-hour days—switching with Bruno, another nurse Jackson found here—and one who fits his name well,” Kat said.

  Malachi nodded, keeping an eye on Roger, who continued to wait by the elevator. “Leave it to Jackson Crow,” he said, and smiled. “Did Will see or hear anything on board the Black Swan?” he asked.

  “No, but he got along famously with Dirk,” Kat said. “And with his buddies, Bootsie and Aldous.”

  “Is he back at the house on Chippewa now?”

  “Spelling Angela on the cameras, yes.”

  “I’d like him to follow Roger English,” Malachi said.

  “You think Roger is responsible for all this?” Kat asked. “Isn’t he the one who’s going crazy looking for Bianca?”

  “Yes and no. I don’t believe he’s a killer. But he’d be interesting to watch. He’s in love. And he knows the city. He may lead us someplace he suspects might be a haven for the killer. He may even have an idea he isn’t willing to share. He doesn’t feel any of us wants to find Bianca Salzburg with the same desperation he does.”

  Kat pulled out her phone. Malachi waited while she put through the call to Will, who promised to get to the tavern quickly and start following Roger. Kat spoke for another minute or so and hung up.

  “Jackson was about to call you. He’s at a place near the river called the Wulf and Whistle. It’s by that alley you told him about. He wants you to go there as soon as you can,” she said.

  “We’re on it.” Malachi paused. “Kat, what do you think the killer is using to hack off fingers?”

  “A very sharp object, one with some heft. He’s taking them cleanly.”

  “So, maybe something like an old pirate’s boarding ax?”

  “Could be,” Kat said.

  “Thanks.”

  Kat reached for the door to Helen Long’s room. “I’ll send Abby out—and sic Byron on our visitors.”

  Soon after, Abby joined him in the hall.

  “Helen is doing fine,” she said. “I told Roger we’d talked to her and that she’d given us everything that she could. I warned him not to push her.”

  “I know. Come on. Jackson asked us to meet him at the Wulf and Whistle.”

  “It�
�s in front of the alley our ghosts pointed out to us this morning.” Abby hesitated. “Malachi, what do you think she heard—aside from the music. If she was on the river, she might’ve heard the entertainment from any of the tourist boats. But the sound she heard, like a beat. She didn’t say it was drums, exactly, but something like that.”

  Tap, tap, tap.

  He didn’t know, but he felt he should. It was there, hidden somewhere in the back of his mind.

  * * *

  The Wulf and Whistle was in one of Savannah’s historic buildings; it had gone up about ten years before the yellow fever epidemic. Abby had been inside many times. Businesses owners in the city could be a tight group; what was good for the city was good for everyone, and Gus had been close with the people he saw as his colleagues rather than competitors. Right now, the restaurant and bar was owned by Samuel Mason, who lived in Florida. His manager, however, was Steve Rugby, a man in his mid-forties who ran the place with friendly ease. Abby had always liked Steve and the Wulf and Whistle.

  When the building had first gone up, it had been a tavern with apartments above it.

  It was still a tavern with apartments above it. Peanuts were served in shells, the walls were decorated with old advertisements and the feel of the establishment was warm and congenial.

  As soon as they entered, the hostess directed Abby and Malachi down to the rum cellar. Once, it had probably housed little more than rum. Now, it still held the old casks, but there were also endless rows of wine, and cases and stacks of fine bourbons, whiskeys, rums, gins and other alcohol, too.

  Steve, a barrel-chested balding man, was there with Jackson Crow, David Caswell and a number of other officers. The shelves had been removed from one wall and Steve had been showing the police and Jackson a section of that wall.

  Jackson and David hailed Abby and Malachi when they arrived.

  “We sent some officers out on a door-to-door,” Jackson explained. “And Steve called to tell us about the tunnel.”

  “So there is a tunnel here?” Abby asked. “I never knew about this one, either!”

  Steve joined the conversation. “None of us knew about it. We did some renovations down here about three months ago,” he said. “When we did, we had engineers in—you know, you have to make sure these old places are safe. Anyway, they were looking at the pilings and found that we had a false wall here. They knocked it down. My assistant did some research for me, and we’re putting the info on our new menus,” he added proudly. “The owner during the War Between the States was a heartfelt abolitionist, and this place was a stop on the Underground Railroad. Anyway, they must have kept the entrance hidden behind rum casks back then. And by the time we got to it, the false walls had been painted over again and again. But, like I was showing the police, we had our entrance here sealed as part of the renovation.”