A Cold Day in Paradise (Alex McKnight Mysteries)

by Steve Hamilton

  The trunk. He was in the trunk. Right now they’ve got his Mercedes down at the police station and they’re opening up the trunk. How much of Edwin’s blood will they find there?

  I tried to drive the thought out of my mind, but I didn’t have much luck. I kept thinking about Edwin’s blood. When I got to the place where we found the boat, I drove down the long driveway and stopped next to the cottage. It was still deserted. Nobody would be here until the next summer. There was a weather vane on the top. I hadn’t noticed that before. It was spinning madly in the wind.

  I got out of the truck and walked slowly down the beach. The boat was gone. They had taken it, along with the car. There was no trace left, nothing to tell you what had happened here.

  I looked out at the water. The rain had stopped. There were high clouds moving fast across the sky. The wind stung my face. It felt like all the heat had gone out of the world. It felt like I would never be warm again.

  I hoped he didn’t suffer. I hoped by the time he got here, he was already gone. Just a body to be dumped into the water. I hoped he didn’t lie bleeding in the boat, watching Rose working at the oars. I hoped he didn’t know that his life was almost over, that he would soon feel the icy shock of the water, that he would struggle with whatever strength he had left but that it wouldn’t be enough.

  Why did he have to pick Edwin of all people? All the money in the world and yet he was the most helpless man I had ever known. I wanted to hate him for being married to Sylvia, but I couldn’t. I thought about that night in the bar when he told me I was the only real friend he ever had. Everyone else just wanted his money, he said.

  The only real friend he ever had. I fucked his wife and then a madman out of my past came all the way up here and killed him.

  Find Rose. That’s the only thing left to do. That’s the only thing you can do now. Find Rose.

  He has to be staying somewhere. Judging from the phone calls and the notes, he probably doesn’t come out much during the day. But he has to eat. I looked up and down the beach. I couldn’t see any other cottages from where I was standing, but I knew they were scattered through the trees. He could have broken into one of them. There might be food there. And nobody would find him at this time of year. But there were hundreds of cottages on the shore. It would take weeks to look at all of them.

  But no, he wouldn’t break into a cottage. Somehow, I just knew that. I was trying to think like him, see the world through his eyes. All around you, evil aliens. You can’t trust anyone. You hide during the day. Where do you hide? Someplace safe. Behind a solid door with a good lock. I remembered how we had to wait outside his apartment door while he undid all the locks. If you break into a place, then you’ve broken that door, or that window. You won’t be able to close it behind you and lock it.

  I went back to the truck. He’s in a motel. The lock on the door isn’t enough, because the man at the desk has a key and the maid has a key. But there’s a dead bolt on the door. Something that you can only unlock from the inside.

  I backed out of the driveway, drove back into the Soo. He killed Bing there, after he saw him at that bar. And the restaurant where he killed Dorney, that was just a few blocks away. Maybe he was staying on that side of town, over by the bridge. It made sense. Or as much sense as it was going to make.

  I drove into town, trying to think of all the motels. The summer crowd was long gone. It had to be mostly hunters now. Would Rose stand out from that crowd? Would a desk clerk remember him? The first killing was, what, only seven days ago? How long was he here before that? How long has he been watching me?

  I worked my way through town, stopping at every motel I could find. I didn’t have much to work with. No badge. No picture to show them even. Just a vague description. A strange man, eyes you wouldn’t soon forget. May or may not be wearing a big blond wig. Obviously, yes, if he had the wig you’d remember him. Been in town at least a week, probably more. I must have looked pretty strange myself. I hadn’t slept, I hadn’t shaved. I still had the same clothes on from the day before, my shirt rained on and then dried into a map of wrinkles.

  Most of the desk clerks were kinder than I had a right to expect, and they seemed to believe that I was a private investigator. Even without a card. But nobody had seen anyone with a blond wig or with eyes you wouldn’t soon forget.

  I kept at it all day, working my way to the western side of the city and then right out to the highway. I lost count of how many motels I visited. It would have been discouraging if I had stopped to think about it. But it was something to do, at least. Something else besides just waiting. I drove by the Riverside Motel, where it all started. I didn’t think Rose would be staying there. He saw Bing in that bar and then probably followed him back to his motel room. It would have been too much of a coincidence if Rose was staying there, too. But I drove by, anyway. I just had to see it again. The place was closed down, a big “For Sale” sign taped to the office window.

  I pulled into the empty parking lot and sat there for a while. I had spent most of the day looking for him, but now I was running out of ideas.

  Wait a minute, I thought. I started in the Soo, because that’s where the murders happened, and then I worked my way west. Maybe that’s backward. Rose found me somehow, and he knows that I live in Paradise. So maybe he’s staying in Paradise. It was worth a shot.

  I drove around the bay and up to Paradise. On the way, I stopped in at the casino again. Vinnie was there, but he wasn’t able to tell me anything useful. He hadn’t seen anyone suspicious. He found the security men who had escorted Edwin to the front door, but they were no help, either.

  Paradise is a small town, but there’s enough tourist trade to support a dozen motels. They were all little family-run places, eight or ten rooms, nice views of the water. Brochures in the lobby for the Shipwreck Museum and the Tanquamenon Falls State Park, hiking in the summer, hunting in the fall, snowmobiling in the winter. I knew most of the owners, at least well enough to nod to them if I saw them at the post office. But none of them could help me. If Rose was in Paradise, he was doing a damned good job of hiding.

  The sun was just starting to go down. I stopped in at the Glasgow, figured I’d grab some dinner, collect my thoughts, prepare myself for another long night of waiting. Some of the regular crowd was there, but nobody even spoke to me. They all must have heard about the note that was left there, about me and Maven going at it in the parking lot. About Edwin. Jackie put a plate down in front of me, gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and then left me alone.

  It was dark by the time I got home. I walked around the cabin before I went in. I wasn’t sure what I might find. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Inside, I looked at the machine still hooked up to the phone. I picked up the walkie-talkie, turned it on and listened to the static, turned if off. These things weren’t going to do me any good now. I was surprised that Maven hadn’t asked me to return them. He must have forgotten. He’s probably at home right now, I thought, sitting in front of the TV, slapping himself in the head. Damn it all, he’s saying to his wife, I forgot to make McKnight give back the phone machine and the radio. That stuff is police property.

  The gun was still on the table next to the bed. I picked it up and held it. There was nothing more I could do, except sit here in this cabin and wait. It was all up to Rose now.

  I sat on the bed for a while, but then I realized that was a mistake. Too easy to fall asleep. I got up and sat in one of the hard wooden chairs at the kitchen table. The time passed slowly. I looked at my watch. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet. I got up and looked out the window, saw nothing but my own reflection. I turned off all the inside lights and tried again. The one light I had outside above the front door didn’t do much good. I could only see the edge of the road, my truck, the woodpile, the first few pine trees. Beyond that, the forest stretched in all directions. The moon was just a rumor behind the clouds.

  It was quiet. The crickets were long gone, the tree frogs asleep for th
e winter. No wind. The trees were still.

  I sat back down in the chair. Before long, my head started to feel heavy. Uttley was right. I needed to sleep. I should have let him come over for one night.

  Maybe I can still call him. Maybe I can call Uttley. The phone. Get the phone. Pick up the phone and call him. I’ll pick up the phone now.

  I saw myself picking up the phone. There was blood on it. I looked at the blood on my hands. There was a pool of it on the floor. Blood everywhere.

  This is a dream. I must wake up. I cannot sleep now. I cannot sleep.

  I raise my head from the table. I am not in my cabin. There is a window in front of me. I rise and go to it. There is a great courtyard. Four great walls around it, a thousand windows. In the center of the courtyard there is a man. I can barely see him, the courtyard is so big. His back is to me. He is hunched over something.

  He turns and looks at me. Out of a thousand windows, he knows that I am right here. He is looking right at me. I see that he has been sharpening a knife on an old-fashioned turning stone. He caresses the knife while he looks at me.

  I run. I am in a hallway. It is the hallway in the apartment building in Detroit. I run past a hundred doors and then I open one. Franklin is lying on the ground. He is covered in blood but he is looking up at me. Don’t leave me here, he says. The walls are covered with aluminum foil.

  I close the door. I hear Franklin calling to me even as I keep running. My legs will not work. I cannot run fast enough. The hallway will not end.

  Finally I open another door. Edwin is there, lying on a white table. He is wet and covered with seaweed. I look down at him and say that I am sorry. He tries to open his eyes. But he has no eyes. The fish have eaten them.

  There is a pounding on the door. Edwin grabs at me. He cannot see but his hands find my arm. He is pulling at me while I try to back away from the door.

  More pounding. Hard enough to break it down. He will be here soon. I cannot hide from him any longer.

  I woke up.

  I was sitting at my kitchen table. There was no sound except for my breathing and the faint ticking of a clock.

  And then the pounding on the door.

  I jumped out of the chair. My gun. Where is my gun?

  More pounding.

  Goddamn it, my gun. I don’t know where it is. Not on the table, not on the bedstand. Where the fuck is my gun?

  Pounding, pounding.

  There, under the kitchen table. It was in my hand when I fell asleep. Down on my hands and knees, get the gun. Check it. Ready to go. Get back up. Go to the door.

  The pounding stopped.

  I stood there by the door, listening.

  Silence.

  I waited. Nothing.

  I raised the gun and unlocked the door. Opened it a sliver and looked out into the night.

  Sylvia looked up at me. “Alex.”

  She had the same clothes on, the sweater I saw her wearing as I watched her from the window that day. It was dry now, but she still wasn’t wearing a coat. I could feel her shivering as I grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her inside. “What are you doing here?”

  She didn’t say anything. She just stood there and looked around my cabin. All the time we had spent together, she had never been here.

  I grabbed a blanket and wrapped her up. “Sit down,” I said. “I’ll make you some tea or something.”

  She sat down at the table, in the chair where I had just been sleeping.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I said as I put some water on the stove. “You should be home with Edwin’s mother.”

  “She’s gone,” Sylvia said, looking down at nothing.

  “What?”

  “She went back down to Grosse Pointe. She said she couldn’t stay here another minute.”

  “But what about… I mean, what if they find him?”

  “Then they’ll send him down there,” she said. “That’s where the service is going to be.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there watching the water. The cabin was silent until the water finally started to boil.

  “Where’s Uttley?” I said.

  “I sent him home,” she said. “I don’t like him. How can you work for him, anyway? He reminds me of a used car salesman.”

  “Sylvia, goddamn it all.”

  “What, Alex?” She finally looked up at me. “What?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry about?”

  “Everything,” I said. “About everything.”

  She started to say something but just shook her head and looked down again. I made her tea and put the cup on the table in front of her.

  “He’s gone,” she said. “He’s really gone.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s just what I wanted to happen,” she said. “I wished for it every night.”

  “Sylvia, don’t talk that way.”

  “It’s true, Alex. I wanted him to disappear forever. And now he has.”

  “You didn’t make it happen,” I said.

  “I think I did, Alex. I think I wished for it so hard, it finally happened. And you know what the funny thing is? I don’t feel a thing. If I was a bad person, I’d be happy. If I was a good person, I’d feel guilty. But I don’t feel anything either way. I’m just… I don’t even know what. I just feel nothing.”

  “You’re still in shock,” I said. “You’re going to need some time.”

  “And you’ll be here to help me through it, right? Is that what you’re getting at? Now that he’s gone? Now that I’m not your friend’s wife anymore?”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “The hell you didn’t,” she said. She threw the blanket off her shoulders and stood up. “Why did I come here, anyway? What the hell am I doing here?” She looked around her. “This is a pretty tiny fucking cabin, you know that, Alex? I think my bathroom is bigger than this cabin.”

  “Sylvia, stop it.”

  “I should have known it would be this small. You built this yourself, didn’t you? I’m surprised it’s still standing.”

  “I said stop it.” I went to her and grabbed her by the shoulders again. This time I squeezed a little harder.

  “Let go of me,” she said.

  I just looked at her.

  “Let go of me,” she said again. But she didn’t struggle. She didn’t try to get away.

  I kept looking at her eyes, her hair, her mouth. I could feel the warmth of her body. Goddamn it all, I wanted her more than ever.

  She just stood there. I couldn’t imagine what she was thinking. Her eyes gave nothing away.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” I finally said. “It’s not safe.”

  “What do you mean, it’s not safe? You’ve got a policeman outside keeping watch.”

  “No,” I said.

  “Yes, you do,” she said. “In the unmarked car, hiding in the woods.”

  “No, Sylvia. He’s not there anymore.”

  “Yes, he is,” she said. “I saw him.”

  “What are you talking about? When did you see him?”

  “Tonight,” she said. “Just now, I mean. When I pulled in. He’s out there right now.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE FEAR CAME to me. There was no way to stop it. I could feel it unfolding in my stomach, cold and alive. “Sylvia, please,” I said. “Tell me exactly what you saw. Did you see anyone inside the car?”

  “No,” she said. “I just saw the car. I don’t know what kind. Just a plain car. He’s not doing a very good job of hiding, either. I could see half his car sticking out of the trees.”

  “Where? Exactly where is the car?”

  “It’s right out there,” she said. She started toward the window.

  “No!” I grabbed her. “Stay away from the window.”

  “What’s the matter with you?”

  “That’s not a cop, Sylvia.” I held her in front of me and looked her in the eyes. “That’s not a c
op out there.”

  Something changed inside her. I could feel the anger leaving her body. “Who is it?” she asked.

  “It might be Rose,” I said.

  “He’s the man who shot you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s the man who …” She didn’t finish it.

  “I think so,” I said.

  “Why is he here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She looked toward the window. “What are you going todo?”

  “I’ll call the police,” I said. “Here, get down on the floor.”

  “Why do I have to get down?” she said. The fear was starting to overtake her. I could hear it in her voice.

  I pulled her down behind the couch. “Just sit right here.”

  “Alex, this is getting a little scary.”

  “I’m calling the police right now,” I said. I picked up the phone.

  Nothing. It was dead. I just stood there looking at it. “I can’t believe this.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “He cut the phone line. He actually cut the fucking phone line.”

  “Alex, this is getting a lot scary now.”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Alex…”

  I picked the gun up from the table and turned off the light in the kitchen. There was a flashlight hanging on the wall. I took that and then I turned off the lamp by the bed. The cabin was dark except for the dim glow coming through the front window from the outside light above the door.

  “Alex, what are we going to do?”

  I got down on my knees. “We’re going to wait a few minutes, let our eyes get adjusted to the dark.”

  She folded her arms around her knees.

  “All right,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?” She grabbed my arm.

  “I’m just going to look out the window.”