Caribbean Moon

by Rick Murcer

  “Is that you son? Is that you? Speak to your old ma. Bobby?”

  The silence seemed to have a mind of its own as Ethel Manis waited for the man who stood quietly in her doorway to answer.

  “Yes, Mother. It’s me. Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s been a long time.”

  The old woman couldn’t believe her ears. It had been an eternity since she heard her son’s voice. She knew everything about it. Everything. The high, the low, and even the subtle lisp. Ethel closed her eyes. She had rehearsed this blissful moment for what seemed like a lifetime. But now she was heartsick. The deep, intelligent voice belonging to the man at her door wasn’t her son.

  A mother knows.

  “I don’t know who you are, but you ain’t no son of mine, you ain’t Bobby Peppercorn.” Bitter disappointment ripped at her very soul. “This is a cruel joke on a sick old woman and I hope you rot in Hell.”

  She started to close the door, but it was too late. A strong right hand stopped it from swinging shut, and the big man stepped into the room, shoving her hard toward the bed.

  Her body throbbed with pain. But the pain seemed to sharpen her senses. Her mind grew bright with the realization that the cancer robbing her body of life wasn’t going to be her demise. It would never have the chance.

  Ethel’s bad eyes focused enough to watch him reach for the empty plastic soda bottle. He pulled the Smith and Wesson from his waistband.

  A strange thought ran through her mind. She wasn’t going to see her son after all. Her heart broke again.

  “Oh, you’re my mother, all right. You have helped me to develop into the man I am today,” her visitor stated. “Don’t you remember me? We used to talk so much.” He threw back his head and laughed.

  Ethel shook. She did remember.

  A mother’s secrets.

  She heard him place the barrel of the gun into the plastic bottle and felt it rest against her temple. Ethel clutched the letter in her shirt pocket.

  He pulled the trigger.

  The makeshift suppressor did its job. A muffled mmmffftttt sounded as the right side of Ethel Manis’s face detached from her shattered skull.

  ****************

  He gazed at the dead woman’s disfigured face as he wiped the blood and gray matter from his hand and gun. “Yes, dear Ethel. More of a mother to me than you will ever know.”

  CHAPTER-64

  Manny saw that Agent Corner stood talking to Richardson and Captain Serafini in front of room 6214. The three were involved in a lively discussion. The FBI agent was extremely animated and appeared to be far more than agitated as he addressed Richardson and the Captain. Whatever the conversation entailed, the FBI agent was getting his way.

  When Corner noticed him, the agent’s look turned from angry to grave. Manny could tell that Josh wanted to hide his initial reaction, but it was too late. He saw everything in a blink of an eye. The agent’s face told him all he needed, or for that matter, wanted to know. Manny’s shoulders slumped.

  “What happened? Where are Mike and Lexy?” he said softly.

  Josh Corner glanced at the other two men and then back to him, hesitated, and spoke.

  “Mike is in the infirmary with a nasty concussion and multiple skull fractures. Dr. Kristoff says he got lucky. It could’ve been much worse. He’ll have some side effects for a few months, but will be fine in the long run. At least physically. Tough kid.”

  The other two men remained silent as Agent Corner rubbed the back of his neck. “Lexy wasn’t so fortunate. She was…raped and bitten like the others.”

  Corner swallowed hard, causing a deep chill to run through Manny’s spine. He hated what the agent was going to say next.

  “I’m sorry Manny. She--she didn’t make it.”

  Instinct caused Manny to reach for the door. He had to see for himself.

  His hand hesitated on the silver handle while he sought some kind of purchase for the twisting, unreal truths spinning a tale he didn’t want to accept.

  It had only been days ago that Lexy and Mike had stood in front of the preacher and recited their vows. She was beautiful and so full of life, so happy. She wanted to be a mom, a wife. Do the PTA thing.

  Tears are not uncommon in a marriage ceremony, but Lexy’s were the real thing, the kind that showered the wedding guests with genuine joy.

  Till death do us part.

  First Liz and now Lexy? He was going to wake up any second. He had to because he wasn’t sure he could take anymore.

  The knob began to groan and turn in his hand. “Damn it,” he sighed softly. “I should have known. We should have checked on them after Sophie called.”

  “You can’t blame yourself, Detective. We all should have done something. Mike answered the phone and said he was fine. He’s a cop, for God’s sake. We all thought they were okay. How could you have known? You can’t be there every time. It doesn’t work that way, never has.”

  Josh Corner gently placed his hand on Manny’s arm, “Manny, Max is inside going over the room. You’ll just be in his way. Besides, what good would it do?”

  The reality of what Josh had said to him began to sink into another level. A sorrowful welling grew from the depths of Manny’s gut, and he blinked away tears.

  She had been just twenty-five years old, and now it was over. Not only over, but she had been treated like some meaningless piece of trash. And what about Mike? What could ever heal the scars that Lexy’s murder had triggered?

  “Do Gavin and Stella know?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, they do. Gavin is the one who thought there might be something wrong. When they didn’t answer the phone or the door, he came to my room.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Sophie’s with them in the infirmary. They’re doing as well as can be expected. The Doc gave them a sedative and they’re resting, but they won’t leave Mike’s side.”

  Alex spoke through the silence. “I know you want to see them, but let them rest awhile and talk to them later. Besides, we need you on this.”

  Standing by the door, head bowed, he sought desperately to push the on button for detective mode, and to leave personal feelings fighting for another time.

  It was so hard. These murders were personal. The killer had seen to that. He clenched his teeth, removed his hand from the handle, and wiped his eyes. “How did this happen? We called them and they were fine.”

  “We think he may have been in the room with them when Sophie called,” said Corner.

  “Why would you think that?”

  “A witness saw him leaving their room no more than thirty minutes after we called. To have time to do what he did, he was probably there. I assume he was holding them at gunpoint. There was a small circular bruise on Mike’s head, consistent with a gun barrel, indicating that the killer was pressing the weapon hard against his head.”

  The notion struck Manny that they all, himself included, seemed to be rats in a complex maze trying to find their way to some gratifying conclusion. Maybe that’s what the killer was trying to promote, more confusion and no clear path to the end, just oblique teasing that lead to nowhere and everywhere.

  The shadows that separated special detective from heartbroken friend further dissipated as Manny’s anger and sorrow began to recede. For now, he needed to focus on catching this lunatic asshole. It was working.

  “Where is this witness?”

  Josh turned toward the stateroom only a few steps across the hall.

  “It’s time you met Mr. John Eberle.”

  CHAPTER-65

  Shaking the elderly man’s boney hand, Manny sized up the one who said he saw Mike’s attacker, Lexy’s killer. Eberle returned the scrutiny with an even gaze of his own, and Manny thought that was good. He might be advanced in years, but Manny suspected Eberle had all of his marbles and for that, he was grateful. Sound mind equaled solid description.

  “I want you to tell Detective Williams what you told us,” said Agent Corner. He turned toward the Captain
and Richardson. “But first, the good Captain and Chief Richardson have agreed that it is time to go room-to-room and see what we can see. Right?”

  The doubtful look sprouting on the two cruise ship employees confirmed to Manny what the discussion had been about just before he had arrived.

  They didn’t want to panic or inconvenience the rest of their guests, but Agent Corner was no longer concerned with that line of thinking. Manny could tell from the inflection in his voice that he flat out didn’t care. They had a killer, a monster to catch.

  Manny, Corner, and Eberle stood outside the old man’s cabin as the others disappeared down the hall to mobilize the search. The witness glanced nervously toward one end of the hallway and then back. He reminded Manny of a grade-school kid checking to make sure no cars were coming before he crossed the street.

  Eberle ran his hand through his silver mane and shifted his weight nervously. His knee joint cracked and sounded like a small caliber gunshot.

  Manny said. “That was a good one.”

  Eberle bowed his head and snorted a small laugh. “Almost as loud as those farts I get after eatin’ a couple of those hotdogs with the extra sauerkraut.”

  “That’ll do it,” smiled Manny. John Eberle was a good man. He felt a little better.

  The three settled into a comfortable silence before Manny broke it.

  “John, what did you see?”

  Eberle hesitated. Whatever he had seen had frightened him. He noticed the military tattoo on the old man’s forearm. Eberle was a veteran, and Manny bet he had served in Viet Nam. Vets from that war didn’t scare easily. Most of them had seen far too many inhuman acts to be alarmed by anything on a cruise ship.

  “I’ll tell you again, if it’ll help. Those are good kids. They always said hey, and had a smile for this old man, a real one.”

  Then John Eberle launched into his story for the second time. He paused when he spoke of the blood on the big man’s arm and shirt. He was obviously affected by it, but more by its source. He finished his account of his meeting with the killer and took in a shaky breath.

  “I could see his wheels turnin’. I thought he was going to punch my ticket. It scared the hell out of me.”

  Manny nodded and said nothing.

  “Ya know. It was almost like he wanted me to tell you what I saw. I think that’s the only reason I’m talkin’ to you now.”

  “You could be right.”

  Manny asked a couple of clarifying questions about the killer’s height and build, then a couple more about his attire. Eberle answered without hesitation. That was good.

  His pulse quickened as a small ember of hope began to glow in his otherwise pensive thoughts. Most cases are broken wide open because someone saw something and was brave enough to come forward. Manny thought this could be the break they needed. Desperately needed.

  The two cops shook Eberle’s hand and Manny thanked him for his bravado. John Eberle, with fading brown eyes, gazed at the two men. Their witness had something else to say.

  “You know, Detectives, I started cruisin’ after my wife passed with the thought of tellin’ her about them when I got home. I know she’s dead and it sounds goofy, but it’s true. She loved the only one she got to go on and it does my heart good to think, just maybe, she can hear my old chatterin’ about the latest cruise and get somethin’ out of it, you know?” His voice trailed to a soughing murmur as he searched Corner’s face and then Manny’s. “Does that make me crazy?”

  “John, that’s about the sanest thing I’ve heard on this cruise.” Manny answered, putting his hand on the old man’s shoulder.

  Eberle gave him a grateful smile. “I just wanted you to know that even though I talk to my dead wife, I saw what I saw.”

  The old man looked down at the floor and then back to Manny. “I hope you get this devil. Anyone that would hurt a smart young couple like that needs to find his place in Hell real fast.”

  “He will, trust me.” Manny saw the trepidation and sadness in the old man’s eyes and it mated with his own grief. It also registered with him that sorrow has no generation or gender gap. It existed completely without prejudice.

  When the photos of all the ship’s male passengers and crew were finished printing, Eberle agreed to look at them.

  The two cops turned forward and headed for the infirmary, and the Crosbys.

  The old timer’s wife would have an earful to digest when this dark cruise was over.

  CHAPTER-66

  Josh Corner sat on the edge of his loveseat, dressed only in red boxers, and greedily gulped the last morsel of New York strip swimming in a generous pool of steak sauce. He had forgotten to eat all day and now, at nine p.m., he had finally gotten to enjoy a cruise ship meal.

  He wasn’t sure if it was because he was so hungry or that the food was really that good, but it tasted like the best meal he had ever eaten. Maybe it was.

  Staring at the empty platter, he thought, just for a second, against licking it, then did it anyway. Next, he lifted the two pieces of raspberry cheesecake from the tray and dug in. Moments later, the desserts were a memory and so was Josh Corner’s hunger.

  A shower and a good meal were just what he needed. He stretched back on the bed and closed his eyes to absorb the last couple of hours.

  Captain Serafini had called and said there were no suites available for the rest of Lansing’s finest. The cruise was unusually full. He apologized and offered more security guards for each room. Corner thanked him and said that the Captain’s suggestion would work.

  He hung up the phone believing the extra security wouldn’t be necessary because the killer had made good on his promise. The Crosbys had indeed heard the bell toll. Their lives would never be the same. But more guards couldn’t hurt.

  Richardson had stopped by his cabin to tell him that they had no luck going door-to- door. There were just too many cabins with no one home, reminding him that this was a cruise ship and people had things to do, bars to frequent, shows to attend, and sun to worship.

  A couple of folks mentioned that they had seen a man like that, but didn’t know where his cabin was. One woman, who traveled the excursion in Dominica where the tour guide was killed, said she had spoken with a tall, well-built man on the pier. She said his eyes bored right through her and made her feel uncomfortable. That he was creepy, but didn’t know where his room was.

  Josh reached for the second pillow and stuffed it under his head. The next thing to explore was the forensics reports, and they wouldn’t be back from the ERT lab for a few hours so until then, he was going to get some sleep. At least try.

  He stretched out on the bed and his mind drifted back to Lexy Crosby’s face. He was helpless to stop it. She had been bitten almost beyond recognition and strangled so intently that her eyes were virtually blood-soaked. He had never seen petechial hemorrhaging like that before and didn’t want to see it again. He locked his hands behind his head and tried to concentrate on something else, anything else. Sometimes he hated this job. It did things to a man.

  Rolling over, he found himself hoping the others were having a better time trying to get some rest. A tiny smile forged its way to life at the thought of Manny Williams trying to shut down for a few hours. That was totally against his nature, but he knew the Lansing cop needed some time off, and Josh hoped Manny could get the Crosbys off his mind long enough to make it work. Now was the time, because the bases were covered until the next batter stepped to the plate.

  His eyes began to droop, and then he went out.

  ****************

  Two hours after Josh had fallen into a deep, exhausted sleep, the loud ringing woke him with a jerk. He instinctively reached for his gun, blinking himself awake.

  It took a few seconds to remember where he was and what the ringing meant. He stumbled from his bed and answered the phone on the fourth ring.

  “Hello,” he muttered. “This better be damned good.”

  At first, no one spoke. Quiet, distant breathing passed
through the phone like a summer breeze.

  His pulse quickened, “Who is this? I hope this isn’t some asinine prank. I can trace this cal…”

  “Agent Corner?” The deep voice carried a heavy Latin accent, and he had heard it before. His antennas were on hardcore alert.

  “Yes. This is Agent Corner,” he responded calmly. “Who is this?”

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, but this is First Officer Pena, and we have received some faxed information for you. It is from your office in Miami and is marked urgent. Should I have it delivered right away?”

  Josh Corner stared at the phone in frustration. His imagination had just taken a trip on the good ship Lollipop, and he had to bring her quickly back to the pier. He kicked himself for his lack of professional control.

  “Agent Corner?”

  “Yes, First Officer Pena, please have it brought to me at once. Thank you.”

  Josh hung up the phone and sat back on the bed. This was going to be another long night. He dialed room service and ordered a pot of Vanilla Bean espresso and four bowls of chocolate melting cake.

  He reached for the phone again and dialed Manny Williams’s room.

  A long night indeed.

  CHAPTER-67

  The compact CD player blasted out a classic rock tune that seemed appropriate ambiance for the killer’s mood. Steppenwolf hammered a driving beat as the lyrics coursed through the cabin.

  A true nature’s child…Born to be wild, Born to be wild.

  The partially eaten BLT and large dill pickle offered an interesting mingle with the rest of the aromas spattered across the room. Shoe Polish. Menthol shaving cream and spicy aftershave contributed to the hodge-podge of odors.

  But the imposing figure that was Eli Jenkins hardly noticed and his thoughts ran deep. He was gripped with a single purpose.

  Dressed in a black tank top, his stout legs were covered in full-length army fatigues. His high-top boots gleamed like buffed obsidian. The laces were in perfect tension and the length of each lace between the eyelets was precise.