Emerald Moon

by Rick Murcer

  Sampson groaned as the black Lab adjusted his position on the floor next to Manny’s feet. He reached down and stroked his head. He also couldn’t help but wonder what Louise would say. She’d be proud and say she always knew he could do whatever he set his mind to. Then she’d tell him to take out the trash or fix the leak in the bathroom sink just so his head wouldn’t swell too big for the room. Just like her too.

  Josh had delivered the badge personally today, after Manny had gone to a special orientation and completed a brief ten-day training routine. He had a couple of shooting sessions to finish up, but Josh told him no hurry. There’d be time. Josh had also taken the opportunity to drop off Destina Flores’s FBI information file, along with an update on Max Tucker’s situation. He reached for Max’s file first.

  The department’s shrinks said he was not really delusional, maybe a little paranoid, and certainly harboring some emotional issues, but not a psychotic lunatic awaiting an opportunity to act out his delusions. Max had also been having some serious financial difficulties, including over $77,000 in credit card debt.

  The final evaluation simply said that he was competent for trial and would be prosecuted to the full extent.

  Manny recalled a scripture from James that said people sin when they get carried away with their own wants and desires. Max had done that. He wanted the money, the power of authority, more than anything else—even to the point of betrayal. Those things had caused him to be susceptible to what Argyle had to offer. Those circumstances, combined with the doctor’s ability to persuade, had caused Max to make a step that would put him in prison for years. There was more than a tinge of sadness about that. He’d liked Max, and the man was an amazing CSI, but if life had taught Manny anything, it was that no one really knew what lurked just under the surface of another’s persona. Hell, most people didn’t know their own selves.

  Destina was more obvious. She had been seeing Argyle for more than six months. There were texts and e-mails that confirmed their affair.

  She’d fallen hard. He shook his head. Love was truly blind in this case, so much so that she believed Manny and the Feds had made up accusations against Argyle because of some petty, professional jealousy and had wanted to ruin the Good Doctor’s life. One of her last cell calls was confirmation that she was going to teach Manny a lesson, and killing Jen would be that lesson. In his mind, God’s protection had been in motion, using Destina’s reckless driving to save the Williams family from more grief. Chance and coincidence never had been part of his thinking process. He’d take his chances with God’s way.

  Standing up from the table, he stretched his back and headed to the family room and the stuffed easy chair that was his home at home. He flipped the worn, wooden handle and was quickly laid out in the recliner like he’d been so many nights over the last thirteen months. The bed that he and Louise had shared was not what it was before she’d died. It was now cold, impersonal, and he could only lay there at night, wide awake, waiting for a touch from her that would never come. Chloe had been right; his heart was not his to give.

  Chloe. He thought of her often, her beauty, the quick wit, the eyes and hair that made most men take a second look. Not to mention her honest, intelligent demeanor that was maybe more lovely than the rest of her. Josh had said she was still in Ireland, helping Meav and Haley Rose get their lives back on track. Another nice trait. He moved away from thinking of her, hoping at some point it would get easier—knowing it wouldn’t.

  Shifting to get more comfortable, the last thing he remembered was Sampson laying down to his left.

  ****************

  The bench resting on the white-sand beach near the blue ocean was more comfortable than anything Manny had ever sat in. His body molded to the very contours of the seat. Maybe it was the other way around. Either way, it worked.

  The fresh breeze was gentle, possessing that intoxicating fragrance of the sea. There was rhythm in the sound of the waves, and the sun’s warmth blanketed his face. Paradise by definition.

  Glancing down the beach, he noticed a solitary figure walking his way, a dot on the horizon really. No worries. There was plenty of this paradise for two. He closed his eyes and basked in it.

  Moments later, she spoke. “Got room on that bench for me, Big Boy?”

  His eyes shot open. Louise was standing over him, as beautiful as ever. Her eyes were vivid, her hair shone like the sun. His wife’s smile almost drove him crazy.

  He tried to get off the bench. He wanted to touch her, to hold her and never let go, but found himself unable to do so. Nothing he tried worked. It was as if every principle of physics worked against him. He moved his eyes to hers, reflecting his helplessness.

  She grinned. “I guess that’s a yes.” She sat next to him, taking care not to touch him.

  Manny noticed. “Why can’t I touch you? I’m plastered to this damn thing. I can’t even move my hand.”

  “That’s how I want it, but more importantly, how you need things to be.”

  “That’s crazy, why?”

  “Sophie’s right, you know. You still don’t get women.” She sighed. “If you touch me, if you think for a second that this could be real, you won’t take the next step.”

  “What next step?”

  “Moving on, getting past . . . us.”

  “I don’t want to get past us. I’m—you’re my wife, my best friend. Why would I want to get past that?”

  Her eyes softened even more. He felt her adoration, her pure love for him.

  “I feel the same way, baby, but this is a new ballgame. The rules are not the same.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “And I can’t explain it, Manny. You just have to know that the life I left, the one you and Jen are in, isn’t the end. It’s a stepping stone . . . and don’t ask to what. I can’t explain that either.”

  He found himself grinning. “Great. What can you tell me? And I am dreaming, right?”

  She raised her hand to his face, then pulled it back. “Always a damn cop. I can’t tell you much more than that. You’ll find out for yourself someday, but I do have something else, something you have to hear. . . and yes, this is a dream . . . sort of.”

  He watched her mouth and etched each feature of her face into his mind. How he missed her.

  The convicting guilt, the year-long pain came surging back to him as he realized that if he hadn’t become a cop, she’d still be here. She seemed to sense his thoughts.

  “Okay, time for my last counseling session. It’s not your fault that I’m not with you. You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, you did everything right. You always said there’s no such thing as chance, right? So how can my death be an exception to that? It went like it was supposed to.

  “As far as feeling guilty about our last conversation, do you think I really believed you thought I was part of that Murder Club thing? I know your mind, Manfred Robert Williams. I knew where it would end up. And I also know your heart would take you down the right path. So get over that, got it?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled a smile that he didn’t feel.

  “I mean it.”

  “Okay, okay. I get it. You’re still as bossy as ever.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re as stubborn as ever.”

  There was quiet silence as the waves spoke like they do.

  “We miss you, more than we can stand some days.”

  “I know you do. I miss you both too. But I know I’ll see you both again. You’ve got to take strength from that.”

  “I don’t understand all of that, but I believe you.”

  “Good. It’s almost time for Sampson to wake you up, like he does, but I’ve got one more thing to tell you.” Louise stood and moved directly in front of him, bending so very close. “You know in the Bible where it says that love is patient, kind, and never demands its own way? Right?”

  “I do.”

  “I want you to move on. I’m not demanding my own way, you shouldn’t either. The more you stay
stuck in the world you’ve chosen, the more it hurts those around you . . . and me. By wallowing in the emotional hell you’re in, you’re breaking the hearts of some folks very close to you—and those you need to be close to.”

  Her eyes grew brighter. “You’ll always be in my heart, and I in yours, but I want to be a memory that makes you smile, not one that causes you pain you didn’t earn. You have to do this for me, for Jen, for Sophie, for Alex . . . and for Chloe.”

  This time she did touch his face. “You are the answer to her prayer. I want you to be that answer.”

  “I—”

  She put her finger on his lips, as her whole body began to glow. “I love you, Manny, so I’m releasing you. Do what you know is right; you always do.” She winked at him and was gone.

  Manny bolted upright, sweat pouring from his face, Sampson licking his arm. He blinked, looked at the clock—6:45 a.m. — and then realized his heart was pounding so hard it echoed in his ears.

  Sitting patiently, he waited for his heart to capture some level of normalcy, all of the while going over the dream, time and time again. At first, he could recall each detail, especially of Louise’s face, her hands, but it was quickly fading. Her words, however, were a different story.

  “I love you, Manny, so I release you. Do what you know to be right; you always do.”

  A few minutes later, he climbed out of the chair, the words still running amok in his mind. He walked to the kitchen and started the coffee machine. He sat down in the same chair he’d left the previous night, thinking about Louise and her apparent message to him, still deep in thought.

  Was it just a dream, a crying out of his subconscious for resolution?

  The aroma of fresh coffee filtered through the kitchen. He got up, poured a cup, and stood staring at the rising sun over the side of the yard. The mind was a powerful force—all the experts said so. Some of those experts claimed these kinds of dreams were the brain’s defense mechanism to keep the body from falling apart during deep emotional stress. There could be something to that, but it could also be something no one quite understood. Either way, he felt a little better about things. No matter the source of the loving ass-chewing, it had an effect on him. Right up Louise’s alley, but it was hard to buy it completely, even for a man of faith. People don’t get messages like that.

  He took another sip of coffee as Sampson came into the kitchen and sat at his feet.

  The big dog had his ears raised and his head cocked in one of those “well?” positions.

  “You don’t get coffee, and why are you looking at me like that?”

  A moment later, Jen’s door opened. She shuffled down the hall and moved into the kitchen, tears in her eyes and a smile on her face.

  “You okay, baby?”

  “Yeah, at least I think so.” She reached for his hand. “What’s your take on dreams?”

  Chapter-77

  Chloe Franson added a touch more eyeliner and put the stick back in her small, one-strap purse. The mirror in the Claddagh Pub was tiny, dingy, but it would have to do. Besides, who did she have to impress? She was only here to get Haley Rose and Meav out of the B&B for a few hours. Not that she hadn’t had an opportunity or two “to get lucky,” as one of her would-be suitors had expressed.

  How do people do this?

  The only other good thing about this place, besides the beer, was the karaoke time. Many of Galway’s best came here to show off their skills, because rumor had it a music producer would occasionally stop around to check out the local talent. She wasn’t sure about that, but the music here was certainly better than the rest—good music always helped. Unless, of course, someone sang something that hit too close to home, like one of those damned love songs that could break your heart if you let it. A love song about missing the one chance you had to be happy was usually enough to send her to the restroom to dry her eyes, then come back for another beer.

  After six weeks, she thought it would get easier, not seeing Manny or talking with him, but it hadn’t. She prayed it would happen soon.

  Haley Rose and she had sat up late one night, talking about love, and how unlucky the Franson women had been in that unpredictable arena.

  “Ya think you find the one, the prize that tops them all, and he ends up being a serial killer that tops them all,” her Mum had said, after partaking in more than her share of the Jameson Whiskey bottle planted on the coffee table.

  Through Chloe’s own tears, and in between shots, she’d pointed out to her Mum that she’d fallen for a man who chased men like that…and who was still in love with his dead wife.

  “Ah hell, jus no luck a t’ll. The Irish are supposed to get a pot of gold at the end of them damn rainbows; all we get is an empty one, by God,” Haley Rose had said. They’d laughed, then cried, laughed again, then finished the bottle. At least they had an opportunity to spend some time together.

  She was ready to push through the door when she heard the next singer start an old Irish love song, her favorite actually, “My Lagan Love.” She knew all of the locals and their voices, but she’d not heard this one before—and he was good. No question this rendition was going to pull at her heartstrings, but she had to see who was crooning.

  Leaving the restroom, full of curiosity, she turned the corner where she could see the stage—then promptly dropped her purse, scattering its contents to the floor.

  Manny Williams was on the stage, mic in hand, inciting the crowd to light lighters and sway in rhythm with his voice. It took a moment to realize that her heart was inside her throat.

  Why is he here?

  He saw her and, never missing a note, stepped from the stage. He moved in her direction, stopping five feet away, still singing, still composed, still Manny.

  Chloe had no more control left. It had melted away when she saw him. She began to cry.

  The final notes danced from his mouth and then all was quiet. The crowd had sensed something special going on and, instead of exploding in applause, fought for a better look.

  She wiped at the new rush of tears and stood silent. Trembling. Waiting.

  *****************

  Manny felt his mouth grow dry. This was going to be harder than he thought, but what else was new?

  He ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re always on my mind. Always. I can’t help thinking about you. I’ve got issues. I can’t guarantee they won’t be a problem. There could be days you’ll hate me, but I’ll try. God knows I’ll try. Are you okay with that? If you are, I want to give us a shot. Okay?”

  Chloe tilted her head, eyes wet and tears streaking down her stunning face. He took two strides, not sure if he was touching the ground, and pulled her close to him.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and held tight. “I’ll see how you work out and let you know after ninety days,” she whispered.

  He laughed and kissed her mouth. “I’ll take it.”

  The patrons of the bar roared their approval, chanting for more.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out an object, and grasped her right hand.

  “I’m not that good at Irish tradition, but I think I have this one figured out.” He opened his hand and showed her the Claddagh ring. “If you put this on your right hand, heart facing you, it means—”

  “I know what it means. That’d we be romantically involved. Do you know what it means if I want it on my left?”

  “I did my research. It means, if you’ll have me, that we’re going to—”

  “I know what that means too,” she interrupted. “Are ya sure, Man?”

  He nodded. “As sure as I get.”

  Pulling her right hand from his, she slowly replaced it with her left. “I’ll have ya, Manny Williams, I’ll have ya.”

  Manny placed the ring on her left hand and wrapped his arms around her again. He felt the beat of her heart close to his and couldn’t remember the last time anything had felt so good.

  ****************

  The tall man at the end of the ba
r finished his pint of Guinness and ordered another.

  The bartender brought it down, shaking his head. “Well, Lad, I didn’t see that one comin’.”

  “Nor did I.” He watched Manny and Chloe embracing through the reflection of the bar’s mirror and took a long swallow. “One never knows, as a recently deceased colleague of mine used to say, one never knows.”

  ****************

  Thank you so much for reading this book!! Please go to www.rickmurcer.com to visit me.

  Future Works

  I have several projects in mind for the next two years, God willing, including the next two Manny Williams thrillers.

  Caribbean Rain: Manny and the gang are called back to San Juan to investigate murders in Puerto Rico’s rainforest . . . wet and wild! To be released in the first quarter of 2012.

  Carolina Rain: Murders in Kure Beach, North Carolina, send Manny on his toughest case, contemplating the hardest decision of his life. Great weather, grisly murders, and a few surprises that will have you wondering what’s next!

  I also want to take this time to thank each and every one of you who have bought these books and helped to make my dreams come true. No readers mean no career in this wonderful profession. THANK YOU!! May God richly bless each of you.

  May the road rise up to meet you.

  May the wind always be at your back.

  May the sun shine warm upon your face, and rains fall soft upon your fields.

  And until we meet again,

  May God hold you in the palm of His hand.