Darkwater Truth

by Robin Caroll

  “No, I want to go with you.” George nodded. “I can work. I’m strong.”

  William silently let out the breath he’d held. “Good.” He smiled at George, happy that he wouldn’t be going alone.

  “Where will you live?” James asked.

  William turned to the youngest of them. “The papers are always mentioning abandoned houses and flats right down the road. We can squat in them. Rotate so we don’t get caught.” He caught the frown of both James and George, so pressed on. “Or if it’s pretty out, we can camp out in the park, sleeping under the stars.”

  George nodded, back on board.

  “It’ll be like an adventure.” William smiled at James.

  The young one hesitated, then looked at both William and George. “Okay. I’ll go with you, William.”

  William smiled. “I’m not William anymore. I’m changing my life, becoming my own man, so I’m going to change my name, too. I’m going to be Will. Will Youngblood.”

  11

  — Addy

  “Hey, Beau, do you have a minute?” Addy spoke from beside his desk, clutching the folder with the police lists of missing persons.

  “Hey. Of course.” He shot to his feet, clearly surprised to see her.

  She laughed. “Marcel was talking to an officer up front when I came in, so he told me to come on back. I hope that’s okay.”

  He smiled and motioned for her to sit in the chair next to his and Marcel’s desks. He waited until she sat before he did. The little gentlemanly gestured warmed her, and she wasn’t exactly sure why it touched her so. But it did, and she smiled back at him. She set the folder on the corner of his desk.

  “Did you find a match?”

  She shook her head. “Not of a guest, but we did find a connection between a missing person and the Darkwater Inn.”

  “Do tell.”

  Addy quickly filled him in on finding a Pampalon name on the list. “Dimitri is going to look through all the records he can, but a Harold didn’t sound familiar to him.”

  “Let me see what I can find out.” He lifted the phone and called one of the officers who worked in records. After giving her the file number from the list, the name, and a promise to buy her a real coffee—not anything from the precinct—he hung up. “What?” He stared at Addy.

  “What what?”

  “Why are you smiling at me like that?”

  The heat tinged her cheeks and she dropped her gaze to his desk and shrugged. “You’re just so nice. Even when you’re asking someone to basically do a task that is part of their job, you always ask so nicely.”

  Now it was his turn to blush a little. “I guess I just try to treat people the way I want to be treated.”

  “It’s nice. Not many people do that anymore.” But Beau always did. She’d never seen him be rude or short with anyone in the department. It spoke of his overall general personality.

  One she liked.

  She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time or the place to have these thoughts. “I suggested Dimitri go visit his father and see if Claude knows anything.”

  Surprise washed over his handsome features. “I can imagine Dimitri wasn’t too thrilled with that idea.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “You know he wasn’t. He said that he was pretty sure that Claude hadn’t put him on the visitor list, but I told him you could probably get him in to see his father if he wanted.”

  “I could. If he wanted that.”

  “I’m hoping his curiosity will win out over his hard feelings against his father.” She ran her finger along the side of his desk. “I mean, I understand how he feels. No one could ever accuse Claude Pampalon of being a decent human being, but he is Dimitri’s father.” She looked at Beau. “Who knows? Maybe prison has changed him. Softened him.”

  “That’s not exactly how prison usually works, Addy. It usually makes people a little harder and rougher around the edges.”

  “I can hope though, right?”

  “You can always hope.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He clearly didn’t believe there was much chance of Dimitri’s dad changing.

  Maybe he was right.

  “How’s Vincent?”

  Addy grinned. “Oh, Daddy is Daddy. Avoiding taking his medication because he says he doesn’t need it. Irritated that he’s having to stay at the hotel, but I think secretly he’s enjoying himself. He’s got a replacement phone and I took him to the Apple store this morning, so he has the newest and greatest MacBook. When I left him after lunch, he was having a grand time setting everything up.”

  “That’s Vincent all right. I talked with the arson investigator. They’ve definitely ruled it arson, but have no clues or leads on who’s responsible.”

  “What about the guys in the dark robes with hoods? Aren’t they the same ones who threw those jars of pig’s blood at us?”

  “We can’t be sure. We really have nothing to go on. No prints could be pulled from the jars. CSU says they were regular Mason jars like the hundreds carried at the local grocery or superstores in town. There’s no connection to them and what your father says he saw.”

  “Says he saw?” She leaned forward in the chair.

  “Come on, Addy. I believe him, but he was under quite a bit of stress, having just regained consciousness and sitting in the back of an ambulance on oxygen, watching his house burn down. His testimony would never stand up in any way.”

  It was all so unfair. “Have you heard anything from Chandler?”

  He nodded. “Their forensic artist is almost done with her 3D rendering of what they think the person looked like at the time of death.”

  3D? “How?”

  “Apparently it’s a complex process where they measure points and stuff and then put clay over the skull. They have the hair from what they recovered here, so they will add similar fake hair to complete the look. Once they get it all done, they’ll take pictures and send them to us to run through the database.”

  “That’s really cool.” That’s what she’d expect to see on the crime shows. “I guess it’ll look like the victim then. That’ll be a little weird. Seeing somebody we’ve never seen before except as bones.”

  “It’s pretty amazing what forensics can do, that’s for sure.”

  She eased back in her seat. “Chandler’s pretty intelligent.”

  He nodded. “She is.” Beau didn’t offer anything else.

  “She’s pretty, too.”

  He stared at her until she wanted to squirm in her seat, but she sat ramrod straight.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty. Not as pretty as you, though.”

  Her heart melted, and it had nothing to do with the flaming heat in her face.

  “Anyway,” Beau was sensitive enough to change the subject, “we should get those pictures back tomorrow, or Wednesday at the latest.”

  “Wow. I guess I thought it’d take much longer. Something with that much detail and all.” She couldn’t imagine the artistic ability someone would have to possess in order to create a likeness from a skull. Pretty amazing.

  “You’d think, right? I’m anxious to see it. Not that we’d recognize anybody from back then, but it’s still neat to think we could get an ID based on it.”

  The phone on his desk rang. “Detective Savoie.” He grabbed a pen and a scrap of paper. “Mmmhmmm.”

  Addy couldn’t help herself, she stood so she could read as he wrote.

  Harold Pampalon reported missing by parents—Louis & Eva on Dec 25, 1938. Friends said he was going to St. Louis. Asked them to go w/ him. Checks at hospitals and John Does—no results.

  Thank goodness she’d been reading his chicken scratch all her life because his handwriting was atrocious.

  “Nothing else? No further updates?” Beau tapped the pen on the desk as he talked on the phone. “I see. Of course. Thanks. Let me know when you want that coffee.” He chuckled. “You got it. Thanks again.” He replaced the phone into its cradle and looked at her. “Nothing else was done on the case. It w
asn’t marked closed, but they figured it was just another young adult running off to get out from underneath his parents’ thumbs.”

  She nodded, but Addy struggled to rein in her emotions. Maybe it was because of Chandler…maybe it was because of the stress of knowing she needed to choose between Beau and Dimitri…or maybe it was that her father had almost been killed and she’d been so relieved to save her grandmother’s wedding dress, but whatever it was causing it, Addy couldn’t deny the streak of jealousy she’d felt when Beau had been on the phone with a female police officer.

  That had never happened before.

  “Addy?”

  She focused on Beau. “Sorry, my mind went off.”

  He chuckled. “So I saw. Anyway, that’s all we have on the old case. Not that I really expected something, but we tried.”

  But something didn’t seem right. “Beau, what kid runs off on Christmas Day? I mean, that’s the biggest time for families, right? Why leave town on that day, of all days?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t answer that. But apparently they spoke with friends—plural, so it was more than one—and the story held water. I mean, if not, there would have been more of an investigation.”

  “You think?”

  Beau grinned. “I don’t know much about how the cops worked missing persons in those days, but I’m pretty sure the Pampalon name carried weight, even back then. Probably even more so. I would bet that the cops did everything by the book to make sure they didn’t overlook something that would indicate foul play.”

  “I guess.” She sighed.

  “If you want, I’ll pull the records and get the name of his friends who were interviewed, but I’m not sure what good that would do since I’m sure they would be deceased by now,” Beau offered.

  She shook her head. “No, you’re right. So while it is intriguing, that still leaves us nowhere in figuring out who was buried in the wall of the Darkwater Inn.”

  “No, I’m afraid it doesn’t.” He smiled as he stood. “Do you think Vincent is up to some company this evening? I thought I might stop by and check in with him.”

  “Please do.” She stood and let Beau lead her to the front door of the precinct. “I want him to take it easy for the seven days until he gets the stitches removed. As restless as he already is, the next five days are going to be hard. I’ll take any help in distracting him that I can.”

  Beau grinned. “Let me pick up pizza then. We can get in a heated argument about the latest books-turned-movies that you know he wants to pick apart.”

  “Sounds perfect. Thanks.”

  — Beau

  He should feel guilty for the surge of happiness that hit him when he’d realized Addy was jealous about Chandler, but he didn’t. Not at all.

  If she was feeling jealous over him, didn’t that mean she was possessive? And if she was possessive, that had to mean she was still involved with him emotionally. With everything going on, they hadn’t had an opportunity to go out. Tonight would be nice, just hanging out with her and Vincent in their comfortable, familiar way.

  Maybe if he was lucky, he’d be able to sneak in a kiss. Or two. Or ten.

  He grinned as he headed across the lobby of the Darkwater Inn, pizza box and six pack of root beer in hand.

  “Detective Savoie.”

  He stopped and sighed, waiting until Dimitri caught up with him. “I think we’re well passed the formalities, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What can I do for you, Dimitri?”

  “I was wondering if I might have a word, but I see perhaps now isn’t the time.” He nodded toward the pizza box.

  It was probably a personal offense to a chef like Pampalon to have a take-out pizza in his hotel. Beau swallowed the smile. “What can I help you with?”

  “Today as Adelaide and I were going over the list you sent us and comparing that to the hotel’s ledgers, I came across a family name I didn’t recognize.”

  He nodded. “Harold Pampalon.” Beau caught the barely-detectable microexpression of surprise, then disappointment. “Addy told me. She dropped by the precinct to see if I could find out any more information on his disappearance. I’m sorry, but there was nothing besides the note that the police had interviewed some of Harold’s friends. They stated Harold had said he was going to St. Louis and asked them if they wanted to go.”

  “I understand, and appreciate your checking. However, I was wondering more if you could…” Dimitri wiped imaginary lint off his immaculate jeans. “I checked all my ancestry records and I can’t find a Harold Pampalon. I was wondering if, perhaps…Adelaide thought maybe you could help me be able to visit my father in prison.”

  The enormity of what it cost Dimitri personally to ask such a favor hit him. “Of course. Happy to do it. How about tomorrow afternoon?”

  “That soon?” Surprise filled every nuance of Dimitri’s face.

  “Might as well go sooner rather than later, yes? It can be a nice distraction for you, what with everything going on here.”

  Dimitri nodded. “Yes. Thank you. Tomorrow afternoon will be fine.”

  “Great. I’ll call the prison and get it set up, then I’ll give you a call and let you know the time. Okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” He nodded toward the pizza box. “You know, I could have made you a pizza with much fresher ingredients that would taste a whole lot better.” Dimitri grinned. “I’m just saying.”

  Beau laughed. “I’m sure, but this is Vincent’s favorite and I’m trying to help Addy keep him in line with the doctor’s orders. He can be a handful.” He smiled at Dimitri and turned toward the elevators.

  He stepped inside and told the elevator attendant to take him to the floor of Vincent’s suite. He hadn’t meant to be rude to Dimitri, but he didn’t want to stand there and continue a conversation with the man he was vying with for Addy’s romantic attention.

  Pampalon might own a hotel and have money and be charming, but Beau had known Addy longer. They had a history. Their pasts were intertwined with the highs and lows of heartbreaks, celebrations, disappointments, accomplishments, and family ties. Beau had every intention of making sure Addy knew that he loved her and always would.

  Once this case was over.

  He knocked on the door to Vincent’s suite, and Addy swung the door open. The hectic look on her face told him a thousand things at once, but nothing more telling than her father’s hollering behind her. “If that’s housekeeping, tell them I do not want anybody to turn down my bed. I’m a grown man, quite capable of fixing my own sheets.”

  Beau winked at Addy and walked past her into the parlor. “Well that’s good, because I have no intention of touching your bed, old man.”

  “Beau, my boy.” Vincent’s eyes widened. “Is that what I think it is?” He stood from the couch. “It is. I could kiss you.” He headed to the table.

  “Please don’t, but you’re welcome.” Beau laughed, loving this man who had been his surrogate father since his own had died when he was twelve.

  Addy got three glasses and filled them with ice before bringing them to the table. “Since he brought you pizza and root beer, do you promise to be nicer now?”

  Vincent waved her off. “After dinner, if you’re nice, I’ll let you see my new MacBook. That puppy is awesome.”

  Beau sat next to Addy, across from her father. He put a piece of pizza on his own plate, then one on Addy’s.

  “Guys, I think I’d like to say grace aloud tonight, if you don’t mind.” Addy’s eyes were rounder than usual.

  “Of course.” Beau couldn’t believe this. He knew why Addy had drifted from her faith—her horrible experience with Kevin Muller—and he had been praying God would call her back…well, he couldn’t be more elated.

  By the look on Vincent’s face before he bent his head, the feeling was mutual.

  “Dear God, thank You for this food. Please use it to the nourishment of our bodies, and our bodies to honor You. And thank You for keeping my dad safe. Amen.”

 
“Amen,” Beau and Vincent said in unison.

  Beau got one bite in of his second slice of pizza before his cell phone went off.

  Addy and Vincent both chewed slowly and stared as he checked the display and answered. “Hey, Marcel, what’s up?”

  “Murder.”

  He sat back. “We’re not up in rotation.”

  “Nope, Gibbons and Witz are the ones who drew the case.”

  They were seasoned detectives, especially Gibbons. “I fail to see why you’re calling me then.”

  “Captain wanted us to run by. Seems the murder is one Lance Bassemier, killed in his home on Laharpe Street. Wanna guess how he was killed?”

  “An axe, which was left at the scene?”

  “You got it. Anyway, I’ll text you the address and meet you there.”

  “Okay.” Beau disconnected the call and took a final swig of his root beer.

  “A murder with an axe?” Vincent asked.

  “Daddy! You know you shouldn’t eavesdrop on Beau’s business calls.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sure it’ll be on the news later. Allison Williams seems to know things almost as soon as the police do.”

  “I saw the report she gave on the five o’clock about a couple being found dead,” Vincent offered.

  Beau nodded, not offering any more details as he stood.

  Vincent stood, too. “Now that I think about it, she didn’t mention if they were found shot or stabbed.” He rubbed his chin. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess they were killed with an axe that was conveniently left at the scene.”

  “Oh, no.” Addy grabbed Beau’s plate and empty glass and took it to the kitchenette. “Please tell me there’s not someone out there killing people with an axe.”

  “It looks like it. This will be the third victim today.” He grabbed Addy’s hand and held it tight before kissing her temple. “Y’all stay in the hotel, okay?”

  “Us? We’re fine. You’re the one out there working the case.”

  “But it all seems to be connected to the hotel…and to the two of you.” He stared hard at Vincent until Addy’s father gave a slight tilt of his head. He turned back to Addy. “Just be alert, okay? Put my mind at ease.”