Low City: Missing Persons (A Tractus Fynn Mystery Book 3)

by Alexander, MK

  “Meaning?” Fynn asked and raised an eyebrow.

  “Sevens’ coin collection or Edmund’s compass…”

  “Oh, well, then we’re back to square one.”

  “You mean square three.”

  “Pardon?”

  “It wasn’t an accident, it wasn’t suicide, it was murder.”

  “As you say.” Fynn paused and stared at me for several moments. “I don’t see anyway around it. You’ll have to visit the scene yourself.”

  “Visit? Like break in to Sevens’ apartment?”

  Fynn smiled. “Yes… you and Anika will make a good team.”

  “Why Anika?”

  “You need her as a lookout at the very least. Perhaps you can go tomorrow night?”

  “What about you?”

  “I’d prefer to have an alibi…”

  “What?”

  Fynn laughed. “I’m picking up Lorraine from the airport in Fairhaven.”

  ***

  It was after midnight when Anika handed me a pair of white gloves on the ride over. “What are these for?” I asked.

  “To avoid leaving fingerprints.”

  “Not necessary,” I replied and smiled.

  Breaking into my old apartment was uneventful, though it did feel strange. In fact, it sent shivers up my spine. Anika remained outside as a sentry while I rummaged through my stuff, rather, Gary Sevens’. I knew exactly where to aim the flashlight though…

  We were back to the house on Dune Road in less than an hour. Fynn arrived by taxi shortly afterwards with Lorraine fresh from Virginia. Anika greeted her ecstatically. I did wonder how her memory coped with this particular situation.

  Inspector Fynn came over to me with a wide grin. I hadn’t seen him this happy in a long while.

  “How did you fare, Patrick?”

  “No coins… anywhere,” I replied, “But I did find this,” and held up Edmund’s compass.

  “Intriguing…” Fynn muttered. “I may need to reevaluate my previous assumptions.”

  Lorraine came over and gave me a friendly greeting. “How is your friend, Ricky?” she asked.

  “You remember him?”

  “Of course… cider on my porch.”

  “Thanks for that.”

  “And thank you for caring so much about my husband.” She flashed an intimate glance at Fynn and masked a smile, as if they shared a private joke.

  Not long afterwards, we were all surprised when the doorbell rang at such a late hour. Anika was first to get up and answer. I looked out the windows and it seemed wrong that the darkness should be filled with an intermittent blue light.

  “It’s the police. They’re here for Patrick,” Anika announced.

  Officer Allens, or perhaps Officer Edwards, was right on her heels. “Patrick Jardel?” he asked.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m arresting you for the murder of Gary Stevens on May twenty-third. You have the right to remain silent…”

  Remain silent, yes, that seemed to be the best idea for now.

  chapter twenty-seven

  beach goers

  It was the first time I’d seen the inside of the Sand City police station from a jail cell— in this timeline or any other. Twenty-three hours was better than twenty-three years, and compared to the dungeon in Modena, the accommodations were hotel-like.

  In the very early hours of the morning, a familiar figure came to the door and peered through the bars. Though backlit and in shadow, I knew it was Richard Durbin the Third, not the pharmacist— the detective, Ricky’s father. He simply stared at me in disbelief as I lay on the cot, and I thought it best not to say anything. I did stare back though. Wordless, he left.

  Inspector Fynn appeared late the next evening. It seemed obvious he had been conferring with Chief Arantez. They came up to the cell; Fynn was smiling and Arantez unlocked the door.

  “The Inspector has vouched for you personally. Your ID checks out…” the chief grumbled. “You’re free to go, Mr Jardel… but don’t leave town.”

  I soon learned Fynn had procured a new identity for me, courtesy of Anika’s shady friends. The documents were shipped priority express. I was Patrick Jardel again, only this time I hailed from Quebec City, according to my driver’s license.

  “Have they taken your fingerprints?” Fynn asked straight off.

  “Yes.”

  “Such may be problematic.” The inspector winced slightly.

  “Why?”

  “Your prints will exactly match your doppelgänger’s, our murder victim, eh?”

  “Oh…”

  “It’s possible that they will not compare the two. I shouldn’t worry too much.”

  “Thanks for getting me out.”

  “Of course… So far only Arantez knows you are here in Sand City, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Durbin knows too, both of them,” I said.

  “Yes, Ricky… You were identified by a pawnbroker in Fairhaven, a hotel clerk, and a state trooper in Pennsylvania— all in the company of Durbin the Fourth… and using stolen identification.”

  “Oh… I do sort of remember that.”

  “Well, Ricky has taken some… what’s the word you use? Heat… for the entire incident.”

  ***

  Anika dropped us at the beach house. She was taking Lorraine to Garysville for the evening; a visit with her sister Elaine the sculptress had been planned. Fynn and I chose to take a walk along the shore. To the west, the sky was still pale; to the east, dark, and below, the restless Atlantic was gray and churning as usual.

  Our discussion soon turned back to the doppelgänger crime and Fynn began by listing suspects. None of them seemed likely to me.

  “Amy? She’s crazy enough… but her and Gary were on good terms, last I knew.”

  “Suzy Chandler comes to mind,” Fynn said.

  “Oh…” I stammered, embarrassed. “Sevens didn’t seem that interested in Suzy.”

  “No? She’s very pretty, and I recall you two were good friends. They were also seen on the beach together that night.”

  “Hmm… I talked to the other me, remember? They weren’t really friends in this timeline.”

  “I see… What about Melissa? She found the body.”

  “They didn’t always get along, but murder? No…”

  “None of your colleagues from the Chronicle?”

  “Miriam, maybe,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Only kidding, sorry.”

  Fynn turned to fingerprints: “There are several areas which had been wiped clean: the kitchen, the bathroom and the door.”

  “That’s suspicious.”

  “Only Mrs Domino’s prints are missing, and I find it curious.”

  “Why?”

  “We know of a potential liaison between your friend Gary and Mrs Domino, and she is his landlady, yes? I’d expect her fingerprints to be somewhere in the apartment.”

  “I don’t ever recall her visiting,” I protested feebly.

  “There is additional forensic evidence as well,” Fynn said, ignoring me. His hands were clasped behind his back and he was setting a good pace along the wet sand. “Wood fibers in the victim’s wound don’t match the kitchen table.”

  “Where are they from?”

  “A salty piece of driftwood seems to be the best hypothesis.”

  “Are you saying Sevens was killed on the beach, and somebody brought his body back to the apartment?”

  “I will speculate he was incapacitated here, not killed though.”

  “Why?”

  “The marks on his legs were made prior to his death for one thing.”

  “The marks?”

  “Yes, they exactly correspond to someone dragging Sevens up the iron staircase. Not pointy boots.” Fynn stopped for a moment. “And it explains the missing clothes and shoes.”

  “Covered in blood?”

  “It would seem so. This may also explain Schrödinger’s cat.”

  “How?”
/>
  “I’m supposing the cat crept inside as the killer was leaving. Sevens was probably unconscious by that point and the dryer had just been turned on.”

  “Like an eye witness.”

  “But whom did the cat see?” Fynn resumed his pace.

  “Well, I found out Mrs Domino knows how to drive a standard. Not everyone can.”

  “The Saab, you are saying?”

  “Yes. Ricky told me.”

  “I’ve learned she took a taxi that night,” Fynn said.

  “To where?”

  “The Beachcomber.”

  “So, how did she get home?” I asked.

  “This is not at all clear. She lives nearby, does she not?”

  “To Sevens’ apartment… yeah, she has a big house in the Village, up on the hill.”

  “Within walking distance?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “It matches with what the chief has told me. On more careful scrutiny, they found traces of blood in Sevens’ car, on the passenger side headrest.”

  “Wow, whose blood?”

  “You can easily guess, I’m sure…” Fynn replied. “Even so, the DNA results have not been confirmed.”

  “Mrs Domino is the killer?” I asked.

  Fynn stopped again at the edge of the waves and turned to me. “How could such a tiny woman drag a body into a car and carry it up the spiral stairs to the apartment?”

  “Maybe she’s stronger than she looks.”

  “Doubtless…” Fynn lapsed into sarcasm but caught himself. “Alright, I suppose given persistence and enough time… though such a task may have taken hours of effort.”

  “I’m just saying it’s not impossible.”

  “Just not very probable,” Fynn replied.

  “Maybe she had help?”

  “Who might that be?”

  “Chloe, Lilly, Mortimer… or someone we don’t know.”

  “I’ll concede it as a possibility.” Fynn started walking again. “Though I will discount Lilly and Chloe for now.”

  “Because I found Edmund’s compass.”

  “Exactly this.”

  “So not a time-traveler crime?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “And the missing coins?”

  “Neither does it seem like a simple robbery— it’s far too elaborate. I am to guess the coins were removed after the fact.”

  “Okay, so we know how this all happened, but we don’t know why.”

  “Indeed, if we can discern motive, we will also know who.” Fynn stopped in his tracks and looked around. The sky had grown dark and we were getting closer to the Beachcomber. It had not been cordoned off as a crime scene. “We should be getting back,” the inspector said quietly and did an about-face.

  ***

  I was up early, long before Anika, Lorraine, and even Fynn. He came down and drifted into the kitchen to find me by the window. I was staring at a wasp that had been trapped between the glass and the screen. It was laying dead on the sill. I pointed and said, “I suppose it’s silly to feel sorry for it.”

  “They have a very short life span.”

  “Even so, buzzing against the screen all night trying to get back to its hive. Probably died from exhaustion… such a futile existence.”

  “I don’t suppose its life is any less important than ours in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Do you think it’s sentient?”

  “Probably not; and there’s the difference, Patrick: you and I have self-awareness, we can recognize futility. The wasp probably does not.”

  “A blessing and a curse.”

  “More of a curse.”

  I raised the screen to dispose of the carcass. Just as I reached for a paper towel, the wasp came miraculously to life and buzzed off to freedom. Fynn and I both smiled.

  “I’m having trouble making sense of something,” I said a bit hesitantly.

  “Yes?” Fynn replied.

  “Well, it’s about Ricky and what you said… um, about our adventures together.”

  “And?”

  “I remember them of course, and apparently, so does Chief Arantez… but I’m not sure that I should.”

  “Why is that, Patrick?”

  “You changed Sevens’ timeline… I mean, Durbin is still alive in this present. He was dead when I lived through it the first time.”

  “Ah, I am beginning to understand what you are getting at,” Fynn said with a growing smile. “To the others, Ricky, his father, and Arantez, you were present in a timeline of which you have no recollection of.”

  “Yeah… that’s about right.”

  “Even your extraordinary memory has its limits, it would seem.”

  “So I lived through that timeline, but I don’t remember it?”

  “As you say.”

  “I might have lived other lives that I don’t remember…”

  “It’s certainly possible.”

  ***

  Inspector Fynn was on the telephone in his study when I came from the kitchen bearing sandwiches. He looked up at me and turned on the speaker. “I just wanted to thank you again, Chief,” he said.

  “I’m putting all my trust in you, Fynn,” Arantez’s voice filled the room. “I was so damn sure he was our guy.”

  “I promise to have a result very soon, certainly by the time of the party. You will be attending, I hope?”

  “I’m not sure…” Arantez hedged.

  “I did mention that the Luis sisters will be there?”

  “Really? Lorraine… and Elaine?” he asked in a brighter tone.

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, I guess I’m free that night.”

  “Thank you again, Chief.” Fynn hung up and looked at me.

  “A party?”

  “Yes. I hope to cast as large a net as possible.”

  “Fishing again, eh?” I asked.

  “A way to wrap up all our unanswered questions.” Fynn handed me a paper from his desk.

  I read the guest list and knew everyone on it.

  “Is there anyone I should add or remove?” Fynn asked.

  “You mean in terms of suspects?”

  “Yes.”

  “It looks fairly complete.” I flipped the page back to Fynn. “I don’t see any of your friends on the list though.”

  “Such as?”

  “Pavel, Edmund, Madeline, Carlos…”

  “Well, none are suspects to my mind… and most of them are indisposed.” He paused. “You did notice Lilly and Mrs Domino, eh?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be surprised if they show up.”

  “Sadly, in this day and age, fewer and fewer people respond to RSVP requests.”

  “I don’t see Mortimer’s name on the list either.”

  “He was not invited, though we’ll see if he makes an appearance,” Fynn said dryly. “Of course, Mrs Domino holds our greatest attention.”

  Anika returned from the Chronicle office after inviting everyone there. “It was a bit macabre, playing the would-be widow, so to speak. Oh, and I found these…” She reached into her handbag and pulled out a pair of big square glasses. She put them on and smiled.

  “Lilly’s?” I asked.

  “Yes… and they’re just for show, ordinary glass.”

  “What about Chloe?”

  “She is also invited, though against my better judgement.”

  Inspector Fynn laughed at this comment. “My dear, remember, Patrick has been excluded from the festivities.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to banish you from the house. This is one party you cannot attend.”

  “But, I—”

  Fynn cut me off with a wave of his hand. “You saw the results of appearing previously, eh?”

  Anika giggled from the sofa. “Poor Patrick, he’ll miss all the fun.”

  “Fun?” the inspector asked. “Think of it as a memorial to Gary Sevens.”

  “And Anika plays the grieving girlfriend?”
/>
  “Something like that, yes.”

  “She might have some competition.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It seems my counterpart has a knack for making people jealous.”

  “How so?”

  “He was dating Amy and Chloe, and possibly Mrs Domino. It could be that Suzy Chandler was in his sights as well.”

  “Quite the ladies man, eh?” Anika seethed. “We all know how well that turned out.”

  Fynn stared at his daughter and something like shock and disbelief crossed his face.

  “What?” Anika asked. “Why are you staring at me, father.”

  “My dear, you have solved the case for me.” Fynn’s smile turned into a laugh.

  “Have I? What mystery is that, father?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not much of a mystery after all.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I now believe it’s a simple case of jealousy. I will suppose Mrs Domino discovered Gary on the beach with Suzy Chandler, or any number of other women… her passions boiled over and she acted rashly, striking him with a nearby piece of driftwood. Later, she came to her senses and realized she had to cover her tracks… In the end, we’re left with Mrs Domino killing Sevens out of jealousy and rage.”

  “Are you sure?” Anika asked.

  “I’m not, nor am I prepared to say anything to Arantez just yet. We only have speculation, circumstantial evidence at this point.”

  “But at least you can fix it now,” I said.

  “Perhaps not quite yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think we ought to have the party first.”

  “What? We can’t just leave her on the loose.”

  “If she has an accomplice, this is something we should find out about.”

  “Did you talk to Franny yet?”

  “Yes, Frances has found that Mrs Domino was married twenty-two years ago, when she quite suddenly appeared in Sand City. Prior to that there is very little information about her.”

  “Like a ghost, you mean?”

  “Indeed,” Fynn replied. “Which reminds me, Patrick, please make yourself available should I have any immediate questions.”

  “What?”

  “During the party.”

  “How? Hide in the closet or something?”

  Fynn laughed. “Perhaps you can camp nearby on the dunes. Think of it as a sort of picnic.”