Malachi moved past her, hunkering down to get a good look at the body on the middle shelf that had been dug into the earth by hands that had lived in a far past day.
There was, indeed, a “fresh” corpse on the shelf.
It was that of a young woman. He had little medical training, but he’d seen his share of corpses.
He estimated that this one had been there about a month. She had bloated and browned, her skin tightening over her frame. She’d worn a baby-doll dress and still had one shoe; the other was missing.
The third finger on her left hand was missing, too.
“Well, that’s not going to be much of a secret tunnel anymore,” Roger said, leaning against the trunk of Jackson Crow’s car.
They’d been down there for a long time after discovering the corpse. Malachi had called it in to Jackson Crow, and Jackson had arrived with David Caswell and Kat Sokolov. They’d all been down in the tunnels waiting for Kat. She’d brought a medical bag and had gloved her hands and made a cursory inspection of the corpse where she lay.
Two crime scene techs had come behind them, bearing a litter. Scoops of earth were taken, bright lights beamed within the tunnel and the corpse was photographed from every conceivable angle. They’d been asked if they’d moved anything at all and, of course, they hadn’t. With David, Jackson, Malachi, Kat and two crime scene techs down in the tunnel, it had grown crowded. Roger and Abby had moved back through the tunnels to the priestly vault beneath the altar, and then up to the main church and out into the sunlight.
“Don’t go anywhere,” Malachi had said to Roger. “The paperwork awaits.”
“Roger, the tunnel couldn’t have been your secret. Someone else has definitely been down there,” Abby said.
He smiled at her. “Thank God you said that! I was hoping you didn’t think I managed to get that corpse down there. Oh, well, if I had put the corpse there, I wouldn’t have taken you down to find it. Unless, of course, I was trying to throw you off by bringing you down there to discover the corpse. Oh! Hey, don’t get any ideas! I obviously watch too many police shows on TV. I swear—I haven’t been down that far in ages. I’ve known about the tunnels under the church. A lot of the other guides in town know about them, too, but...mostly, we honor the city’s rulings on what we can and can’t show people. Like I said, it’s private property, so trespassing is against the law. I wouldn’t bring the average tourist down there. You know that, right? You believe me?”
“Of course I believe you, Roger,” Abby said.
“Oh, Lord! Are the police going to believe me?”
“I can’t tell you what other people will believe, but as far as I know, there isn’t anyone out there who thinks you’ve been running around murdering tourists.”
“No. I wouldn’t murder tourists. I make my living off tourists.” Roger shook his head. “I’m not the type to murder tourists because they gave a lousy tip or didn’t tip at all. I mean, there’ve been a few I wanted to slap, but even then...survival wins out!”
“Roger, I’ve wanted to slap a few tourists over the years, too,” Abby said, obviously trying to lighten the tone. As she spoke, the main doors to the church opened and the two crime scene techs appeared, bearing the litter holding the corpse—now covered with a clean white sheet—out to the ambulance. The others emerged into the sunlight behind them. Kat Sokolov waved and headed for the ambulance; she wasn’t letting this corpse out of her sight. Jackson Crow, Malachi and David Caswell strode toward them.
“Can you come down to the station and sign statements?” David asked Roger and Abby. “No way out of record keeping.”
“Of course,” Abby said.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Roger looked at Malachi and winced. “I did tell you that these tunnels aren’t on the beaten tourist path.”
Malachi patted his shoulder. “Not to worry. I told David that I insisted on going down there and that we were on federal law enforcement business. Your reputation as a tour guide will remain absolutely spotless.”
“Thanks,” Roger said a little huskily.
“Pile in,” Jackson told them. “I’ve got my old federal-issue SUV. We’ll all fit.”
They did pile in; David Caswell and Jackson Crow were in front.
Abby was in the back between Malachi and Roger. Despite Malachi’s words, Roger was still agitated. He seemed nervous the entire time they were at the station, although Malachi did most of the talking and they were both merely asked if they had anything to add. When Malachi was asked why he’d felt it was important to get down into the tunnels, he said flatly, “I believe that the person or persons killing young women in Savannah now thinks of himself as some kind of pirate. I believe that he—or he and his accomplice—kidnaps these young women and brings them through to the river via the various tunnels.”
Eventually, the statements were signed and they were free to go. Jackson drove back to the Dragonslayer.
“Wow. Lord. Oh, God,” Roger moaned when they pulled into the parking lot at the tavern. He looked at Abby as if everything that had happened today was finally hitting him. “There was a dead girl in the tunnel. Not long dead. Newly dead.”
She laid a hand on his arm. “You brought us there and we found her. That’s a good thing, Roger.”
“She’s dead. How can that be good?”
“Finding her could help us catch the killer,” Abby replied.
“She’ll still be dead,” Roger said dully.
“But,” Malachi added, “the fact that her body’s been found could bring some solace to her family. For those left behind, there’s comfort in knowing that a killer is brought to justice.”
Roger got out of the car. “Uh, did you want more of a tour?” he asked.
“Not today,” Malachi said. “But if I have any questions about the city, I’ll call you.”
“Yeah, all right. I’ll probably be in the Dragonslayer later,” Roger muttered. “Might see you then.”
They watched him walk to his car. “That was good of you,” Abby told Malachi. “It was really kind of you to speak to him the way you did. I know he was afraid he was a suspect.”
Malachi looked at her. “He is a suspect,” he said.
Abby frowned.
“Everyone’s a suspect right now,” Jackson explained. “Let’s go into the Dragonslayer. We’ll see what Will’s managed with the cameras so far.”
Abby walked slowly toward the restaurant. She had a sick feeling inside. She believed in Roger; they’d gone to high school together!
But she believed in Dirk as well, and their other customers and Macy and...
It didn’t have to be anyone close to her. Maybe the Dragonslayer had been used, just as, perhaps, the Black Swan had been used.
She took a deep breath and entered the restaurant.
It was after lunch but before dinner. Will Chan was at the bar talking to Dirk, Aldous and Bootsie.
Malachi walked over as if he’d known the four of them all his life. “Hey, Dirk. How are you? Have you heard that our Mr. Chan’s a fine actor and magician?”
Dirk nodded absently. “I’m all right,” he said. He didn’t look all right. He was parchment-white. He turned to Malachi anxiously. “According to the TV news, another body was just found in a tunnel. A woman.”
“It wasn’t Helen,” Malachi assured him.
“But how do you know?” Dirk asked.
“Poor girl was dead long before Helen disappeared,” Malachi told him. He rested a hand on Dirk’s shoulder. “The bad news is that a number of young women have lost their lives. The good news is that the local police and the feds are working hard on the case. The streets will be full of police and agents who know what they’re looking for and I’d bet money that, with these combined efforts, the truth will come out and the killer will be caught.”
Dirk nodded. “Did you work today?” Malachi asked him.
“I took the first tour group out. I let the guys handle the second. My other actress was back so...I’m okay.”
“Yeah, he’s doing fine,” Bootsie said.
“I was telling him that if he wanted, I’d head out with him tomorrow,” Will put in. “I’d love to play
