Michael answered the phone at his desk. “Hello?”
It was one of the night watchmen down at the docks. He had found a body. It was a man. Or what was left of him. Michael hung up the phone and put his head in his hands.
It had been four years since the last body had been fund, and now they had begun again. A new one. Killed the same way. At least, that was what the caller had suggested.
Damn. Just when he was starting to hope that it was all over. suddenly, right after the death of Morgan Le Grue, they had started up again. Who was it this time?
A college frat boy? A homeless man who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or a simple party boy? Or had the killer chosen a couple of mae prostitutes like the last time?
He doubted that the victim was nay of these. Hell. It had to be someone tied to the docks. Someone with warehouse space there. But who?
Justin appeared and looked at him. “What’s wrong, mon ami? You look as if you been visited by a ghost.”
Michael tried to smile at him. “I have. Our killer may be back. Get Reilly and Danforth. And the M.E. Meet me down at the docks.”
Justin hated it when Michael was so cryptic about things. What did he mean, maybe? Either it was or it wasn’t. Or did he not know?
The Cajun decided on the last. Better to think that his friend didn’t really know, than to think that he was hiding something from him. He shrugged, then went to find his two friends. He bumped into the M.E. first.
He smiled at her. “Michael said he need you don at de pier.”
She nodded. “OK, Justin. we’re on our way now.”
He nodded in thanks and continued on his way. Reilly appeared next. “Reilly!”
The officer looked up to see his friend. “What is it, Justin?” he called back.
The Cajun smiled. “Michael needs you ‘n Danforth to meet him don at de pier. I’m headin’ dere too.”
Reilly nodded, then vanished back into the crowd. Justin made his way to his car. It was going to be a long, lonely drive to the docks. He started it up and pulled away from the curb, turning on his siren and light. behind him, a squad car filed into line. He knew the M.E.’s team had already gone.
Michael stood looking down at a sight he thought had become a thing of the past. Sure enough, the guard had been right. There was a body, and it was male. In fact, it was Torkelsen.
He had been stabbed multiple times, just as those they found near the end of the last round had been. There was only one difference. Torkelsen’s eyes had been put out and sticks of dynamite had been stuck in the sightless sockets. A grenade had been placed, still with its pin, in his mouth like an apple.
As usual, there was a note. A lengthy one. He looked down at it with disgust. Would this case never end?
Then, he had a thought. What if this had been a copycat murder? he discounted it immediately. The scene was too familiar. And besides. They had never released information about the notes. Those had been kept out of the papers to prevent copycats.
Seemed their old killer was back in action, and it had something to do with the death of Morgan Le Grue. But what was the link? Was it Misty? He shook his head. He had no idea.
Justin appeared beside him, followed by Reilly and Danforth. “Damn.”
Michael looked over at his friend. “My sentiments exactly.”
Reilly looked away from the scene. “Just what we didn’t need.”
Danforth nodded. “I agree.”
Michael looked at his friends. “I think this has something with the death of Le Grue. I could be wrong, but my gut tells me that it does. I am beginning to question if Misty has something to do with it as well.”
Justin looked around. “You might be right, ami. But how we gon know?”
Michael smiled sadly. “I don’t know. Can’t set up a sting or surveillance just yet. Don’t have any proof.”
Justin looked at his friend. “we can send someone into the bars to watch, non?”
Michael shook his head. “Not officially, no. Let’s go see what we can find out.”
Reilly looked over at him. “What’s our destination?”
Michael gritted his teeth. “every bar and club in the city. We need to know who he,” he left with.” He pointed at Torkelsen’s body as he spoke.
“Ahright,” Justin replied, “do we split up?”
Michael nodded. “Yes.”
She woke up in her cozy condo, on the couch. Her last memory was of the warehouse and being disappointed in the performance of her would-be beau. He had been too drunk to enjoy. Hell. He had barely finished when he passed out.
Disappointed, she had faded off to sleep. Now, she was waking up at home. She was dressed in a clean dress, not the one she had worn to the pub. She went to the closet to see if it was in there.
No. And it wasn’t in the dirty clothes either. Where had it gone? No matter. She could buy a new one.
She had to make arrangements for Morgan. She remembered losing him yesterday. There had been an explosion. The policeman had been nice enough to come by and give her the news.
She was starting to remember things. Every day things. Painful things. Things like this.
She still remembered Bali and South America. And Central America. And the Swiss Alps during the winter. And Australia.
But now, she was starting to remember the sad things. Those things she would rather forget. Hell. she was even beginning to remember her nightly forays.
Well, at least whether the man was any good or not. She even remembered that the night had not made the pain go away. She was still in mourning, and she was aware of it. But so were the voices.