Blood of Cain

9

Courtney Burke was still wearing the same clothes she had on when I found her. She approached St. Michael with trepidation, her body language communicating before she spoke. She used her right hand to pull a strand of her hair behind one ear, licked her bottom lip, and looked back toward the marina for a second. She said, “You'd told me about your boat when we met, said you did work on it at this marina. The woman at the bar said I could find you here.”

I nodded. “Hello, Courtney.” Max cocked her head and wagged her tail. “These are my friends, Dave Collins and Nick Cronus.”

“Pleased to me you,” Dave said.

Nick grinned and wiped his hands on a white towel. “Come aboard. I’ll fix you my special grouper sandwich.”

She blew air from her cheeks. “Thanks, but I can't stay long.” She cut her piercing eyes at me. “Mr. O'Brien, I didn't get a chance to thank you for what you did.”

“You didn't stick around long enough to, but I'm glad you're safe.”

She crossed her arms. “I don't mean to intrude, but can I talk to you in private?”

“Jupiter's two boats down. We can chat there. Mind if Max tags along?”

She smiled for a second and looked at Max. “Sure. She's sweet.”

“So am I,” Nick said with open arms. “But only in an Uncle Nick kind of way.”

Something moved over her eyes like black ice. Nick lowered his arms, grinned, cleared his throat and said, “I'm gonna make you a take-out meal. 'Cause if I don't, Dave will give you a chocolate éclair and maybe send your blood sugar so high you fall off the dock.” He grinned.

The glacier melted from her eyes. She nodded. “That would be good, thank you.”

I lifted Max up and walked with Courtney to Jupiter. The boat wore its fresh colors well, the slight smell of paint and varnish in the air, the mid-day sun licking the back of my neck. “I'll open the salon doors and let Jupiter breathe some. She’s just been re-painted. We can talk up on the fly bridge. It'll give you a nice view of the marina. You can see for miles in any direction.”

She nodded and we climbed the steps to the bridge. “Sit anywhere you'd like,” I said, unzipping the isinglass and setting Max on the deck where she promptly began investigating the nooks and corners for new smells. Courtney sat on the long bench seat, and I lowered into the captain's chair. She looked around the marina, from the lighthouse a half mile away, to the parking lot in front of the Tiki Bar. A gentle cross-breeze delivered the smell of blooming mangroves and the salty soul of the sea.

“How old is your dog?” she asked.

“Max won't tell her exact age, but I know she's three, which makes her about your age in dog years.”

Courtney smiled, eyes following Max. “I’m nineteen.” She blew air from her cheeks, her thoughts now far away. I let her take her time. Then she said, “Mr. O'Brien-”

“Sean.”

“Sean … anybody ever tell you that you look like that actor Gerard Butler?”

“Not yet today.”

Courtney smiled and said, “I came here because you seemed like you really gave a shit when you found me. I'm sorry I hid from you and ran. When you saw me walking on the road I was running away from something really bad that happened.”

“What was that?”

“My friend was killed. He was stabbed to death at the carnival where we both work. It was late. Lonnie was a ride operator. I talked him into letting me take a midnight ride on the Big Wheel. I feel so terrible, but there was nothing that I could do.”

“Courtney, take it from the beginning. Leave nothing out. What happened?”

She nodded and stared at the lighthouse a moment before looking back at me. She took a deep breath and began telling me everything that happened in her life during the last twenty-four hours. She said, “I know I shouldn’t have run off, but I didn't know what to do. I had Lonnie's blood on my hands and shirt. I've had some trouble before with the police in my life … I just didn't want to go there. I got scared and ran.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I've had to become pretty independent. My childhood turned to shit, so as I grew older I made up my mind that no one would hurt me again.”

“Why would the killer attack your friend, Lonnie, in the middle of the night? Was it a mugging gone very badly, or was it some kind of revenge killing?”

“I don't know.”

“Did he have enemies? Someone he owed money to, maybe? Deal in drugs?”

“I don’t know that either.”

“And you never got a good look at the killer's face, right?”

“He wore a hoodie. It was too dark.”

“Why were you working at the carnival?”

“I grew up in an Irish-American gypsy family. I'm used to being on the road. But we … or they, don’t call themselves gypsies. The name used is travelers.”

“So did you begin working in a carnival because you like to travel?”

“That's part of it. The other part is because I'm looking for somebody.”

“Who's that?”

“The man who … who hurt me, murdered my mother and father, and stole something from my grandmother, something my grandfather had given her a long time ago.” Her nostrils flared slightly, eyes forceful.

“Who is this man you're trying to find?”

“My uncle.”

I thought about Nick's 'Uncle Nick' comment earlier to her. “I'm sorry to hear that. Does this man work at that carnival?”

“I was hoping he did, but I guess I was wrong. A friend of mine told me he thought he'd seen my uncle working at a county fair that came through Charleston, South Carolina. That isn't too far from where I'd lived. So I went there. My friend said this guy was working as a weight and age guesser. That sounded like something my uncle would do.”

“Was he good at it?”

“Yeah, he was. As a traveler, working the summer circuit, he would sell senior citizens a new roof when they didn't need one. He’d convince people their driveway needed paving, whatever. He worked with a three-man crew, did crappy work, and like basically conned his way throughout the South. They stayed one step away from the sheriff.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“It’s been a little more than four years.”

“Why try to find him on your own? Maybe you should turn it over to the police.”

“They couldn’t ever find him. It’s a cold case. My grandmother’s scared shitless of him. I can’t prove he raped me from the time I was twelve ‘till I could hold a butcher knife in my hand. Before he was spotted working at a carnival, we’d heard he was a preacher in some Kentucky mountain town. He’s mentally a sicko, but he can charm people, especially women. He knows hypnosis, too. We heard he settled there, Kentucky. Somebody supposedly started calling him a prophet. He stole every dollar the little church had.”

“How do you know this?”

“FBI. They came around when a man fitting my uncle’s description robbed a bank in South Boston. And he did it without a gun. The teller said she couldn’t remember anything, even giving the money to him. It was like she’d been hypnotized. My uncle's picture was on the bank's security tapes. My grandmother identified him.”

“Is the FBI still actively looking for your uncle?”

“I think so.”

“What would you do if you found him?”

She was silent for a few seconds, her eyes drifting across the marina, fingers gripping her knees, knuckles cotton-white. She swallowed dryly and whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Could this man have killed Lonnie?”

“Maybe. If he was somehow there. He could be anywhere.”

I watched her staring at my hands, her thoughts remote. Then she raised her riveting eyes up at me like she was looking through me. She lowered her eyes to the pendant that hung from a chain around my neck. “What is it, Courtney?”

“The pendant you’re wearing … can I ask where you got it?”

“It was a gift from my mother. The last thing she gave me before she and my father were killed in a car accident. That’s been many years ago.”

“It’s great that you still wear it.”

“I’ve worn it so long I don’t even think about it.”

She was quiet, her eyes narrowing and falling to just above my heart. I said, “When I offered to help you, it was to give you a ride into town. You really need to take all this to the police. Tell them what you saw when your friend was killed at the carnival. If you run, it’ll look very suspicious in the eyes of a county prosecutor. Tell them what you know.”

“I don’t know anything, especially like who killed Lonnie. You did more than offer to give me a ride to town, you saved my life. Those two men would have killed me. I do know that. Maybe it's some kind of weird destiny thing, but I don't believe you just happened by last night.”

“What do you believe?”

“That sometimes, in some places, stuff happens ‘cause it was supposed to happen. I believe there was a reason we met on the road in that forest. I don’t know what it is, but I think the reason might be bigger than you pulling those men off me.”

I was silent, watching her body language, fingernails bitten down, red nail polish chipped. She looked up as a white pelican alighted on the canvas top of an adjacent boat. I could see the frightened young girl's face in the pretense of the bold disguise she tried to wear.

She said, “But I don't know the reason I'm here. Maybe it's because I have no place else to go. Maybe it's because you might be the only one who believes I didn't kill Lonnie, and somewhere inside of me something tells me that you might help find who did. Lonnie, was a carny, so the cops won't do much, except say I did it.” She bit her lower lip for moment. “You found me in the forest walking in the dead of night. Maybe you can help me find my uncle. He took something from me, but he took something from my grandmother, too. I'll never replace what he stole from me, but I might get back what he took from her, the gold Celtic torc she wore all her life. I feel so freakin' self-conscious even coming here. I'm sorry.”

“I wish I could help you, but I’m not a police officer. I’m not a private detective. I’m just a guy teaching part-time at a local college.”

“What do you teach?”

I started to change the subject, and then said, “Criminal justice.”

“Were you a cop?”

“Once.”

“My instincts were right.”

I said nothing.

“I’ll pay you. I don’t have much money now, but I have strong principles and work ethic. I’ll pay you for your time.” Max jumped up next to Courtney and rested her chin in the girl’s lap. She scratched Max behind the ears and said, “This little dog is smart. I wish I’d had a dog when I was a girl. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here. I apologize for wasting your time.” She stood to leave.

“Just sit still a minute,” I said, looking to her left, down the dock toward the Tiki Bar parking lot. Two police cruisers and an unmarked car pulled into the lot. “Sit back down, Courtney.”

“Why?”

“Unless you can swim across the bay, there’s no place for you to run. The police just got here. And they're coming this way.”

“I don't know what to do?”

“Yes you do. Tell them the truth.”