'Zane's CEO of Mobile Marine Resources. The president of the company chairs the commission. You knew it; you know every piece of lint on the scale. Was Burlew going to add a little something to his demands?
Get Zane to pull some strings? Just for insurance?'
'Here's a little advice for you, Ryder: don't meddle when adults are playing.'
'You're going to win at any cost, aren't you, Captain?' He laughed and punched my arm on his way out. 'You're not a win, Ryder, you're an ant I step on. Don't elevate yourself.'
Before preparing for my night's work I called the Indianapolis, Boston, and Kokomo homicide departments and asked if they'd had anything similar to what we sere seeing here. No, the people I talked to said, not even close, good luck. Glad it's yours and not ours.
I passed Ava's office on my way out and hugged her and told her she'd done a great job. A crystal vase of fresh-cut flowers overwhelmed her desk and brightened the air, a gift from Clair. Ava passed me a thick folder with copies of photos and reports from several cases. I put them in my briefcase.
'How about that other little matter?' I asked. 'Were you listening?'
'I heard you clear as a bell,' she said, handing me a small white envelope. I tucked it in my pocket.
'Tomorrow I'm taking you out to celebrate your return to the world of the living,' I told her.
'I'd rather it was tonight,' she said. 'Tonight we have places to go, things to do. Are you going to be ready?'
'If being scared is getting ready, I've been set all day.'
CHAPTER 29
'What's that?'
My face was congenial, introducing two old friends at the market. 'Ava Davanelle, meet Jeremy, my brother.'
Ava offered her hand. 'Hello Jeremy, I'm pie '
'What is it doing here?' Jeremy jumped from his bed to face me, indicating Ava only with the slightest flicks of his head. 'We can't talk with IT in here.'
'She'll sit in the corner if you wish. Out of the way.'
'I won't talk, I won't. Not with IT here.'
I shrugged.
'You promised me we would talk and then… my need.'
'Nothing's changed.'
'SHE'S here!'
'I invited her. She stays.'
He closed his eyes and crossed his arms. 'I refuse to say another word.'
'Then our deal is ' I waved my hand, Nothing.
Jeremy false-charged Ava, snapping his teeth before retreating, a display I'd seen in monkeys establishing dominance and territory. I started toward him, but Ava's eyes told me, Stay put. He circled her, lolling his tongue and slurping; he made claws of his hands and raked them toward her, hissing. He growled and shrieked, hawked and spat on the floor beside her; he mimicked masturbation, moaned, and pretended to ejaculate over her.
She yawned.
He turned to me, pleading. 'It can't stay!Please send it, her, away, Carson. I have my needs, our… ritual. We need time together.'
I looked at my watch. 'Our time has already started.'
He crossed his arms and tapped his foot. 'You won't hear what I know.
I know, Carson. I know who it is.'
'You know how to manipulate. It's your only real talent.'
He began a child's singsong voice: 'I know who it is, and so do you..
..'
I didn't know if he was lying or his augar-twisted mind had found a connection we'd missed. I was betting he had as much a need for me as I did for him.
I said, 'She stays.'
Jeremy gritted his teeth, snapped twice at the air, and retreated to the corner. He pretended to study his nails, glancing at Ava from the corner of his eye.
'So tell me, dear lady,' he said, polishing his nails on his shirt, 'do you whore much?'
'I whore never,' she said cheerfully.
'All women whore. It's in their SOULS! What do you do that makes you think you don't whore?'
'Are you inquiring about my job, Mr. Ridgecliff? I'm an assistant pathologist with the county morgue.'
Jeremy pushed from the wall. He began circling Ava. I tensed, moved closer.
'Oh, for the unholy love of God!' he screamed, pushing at the sides of his head. 'When will all this politically correct bullshit cease! A tender li'l thing like you wading through dead bodies? Do you pick at them? Touch a pinch of tissue here, a strand of sinew there? Or do you just watch and point as a lowly man does the work? Say, you, sir, could you pluck out that purple thing there? Looks like a greasy tomato? Put it in this pickle jar. It's a Christmas gift for a lover.
What DO you do with dead bodies, sweet thang?'
Ava stepped in front of Jeremy and stopped him cold. He slid to one side, she moved in front of him. He sidestepped, she blocked. They looked like Latin dancers. Jeremy froze, nowhere to go. Ava smiled sweetly into his eyes.
'I do a lot of things with dead bodies, Mr. Ridgecliff,' she crooned,
'but most of all I like to slice open their bellies, climb inside, and paddle them around the room like canoes.'
Jeremy twitched as if prodded by voltage. His neck clenched and he hissed through his teeth. He retreated to his bed and sat, eyes closed so tightly it seemed he was trying to keep even thoughts from entering.
He sat for a full minute before his eyes opened, already staring at Ava. His voice was frost on an ivory window, as cold as the smile creeping over his lips.
'You just bought yourself a seat at the table, girly. Hope you enjoy the view.'
He turned from Ava and snapped an open palm toward me. 'Did the drugstore process the latest glossies, brother?'
I passed Jeremy the photos of Burlew. I had previously brought everything on the beheadings. He'd this time asked for rundowns on every unsolved murder for the last year. Jeremy set everything beside him on the bed and started by studying the photos of Burlew. A hellish smile lit my brother's face.
Mr. Cutter wiped sweat from his brow, set the level on a shelf with other tools, and gazed proudly over his evening's work. The new autopsy table sat in the center of the room, gleaming beneath a hooded utility light hanging from the cabin's low ceiling. Getting the table was the purest form of providence; the universe intervening again. He'd shunted the drain out through the hull, neatness counting. The nearest paved road was two miles away and there were no power lines, so he'd rigged up an electrical system from banks of car batteries in the bilge. A small Honda generator charged the batteries, but he rarely used the noisy contraption.
He went to the pilot house. The wheel, instrumentation, and most everything else had been stripped out. Years ago some optimist had hauled the boat from the river to its high storage blocks, planning a refit. But it had fallen into decrepitude, waiting for Mr. Cutter to boat by on a scouting run and realize the universe was bringing back the pieces, setting the board for another game.
Mr. Cutter watched the moonlight wash over the field and, two hundred feet to his left, across the short channel of river branching from the main course. He couldn't see the river itself, the view blocked by a thick stand of brush almost encircling the shrimper. He returned to the cabin. Time to put the final images in place. The ones telling Mama the story.
In her own words.
Just in time too; that damned detective was crawling around asking questions, smelling something. No
