“Well if Ryan says it, it must be true,” Dirk snapped. “He’s certainly never led us on a wild-goose chase or dressed us up in dumb-ass outfits just to—”
“Oh, stop your complaining. I’ve heard just about enough bellyaching out of you for one night. If we catch Polly’s killer, it’ll all be worth it, right?”
He mumbled an incoherent response and trudged a few steps behind Savannah and Jake as the path narrowed. Savannah wanted to yank him bald, but decided to cut him some slack, considering all that was going on in his life at the moment. A guy couldn’t be at his jolly-self best all the time.
Besides, he didn’t have enough hair to make it worth her while.
“How do you want to handle this?” she asked Jake, keeping a low tone. Dirk wouldn’t approve of her deferring to Jake, but he was the only one with a badge and valid, legal authority at the moment. Besides, when push came to shove, she’d do whatever she wanted anyway. So, she might as well give the guy the illusion of control ... a trick most women knew, but men like Dirk failed to comprehend or appreciate the advantages of.
“I think we should split up, cover twice as much ground,” Jake said:
He was already starting to pant a bit, even though they had only walked about a quarter of a mile from the parking lot and down the dirt path toward the encampments. Savannah noted his burgeoning waistline and lack of conditioning and momentarily seethed at the thought that she had been fired from the police force under the feeble excuse that she was “overweight” and “out of shape.” Of course, it had been hogwash, but that was the reason etched in black and white on the documentation, and she was still irked. Just couldn’t help it.
Of course we’ll split up ... duh, she thought. They wouldn’t go traipsing around like the King’s Army, making themselves ridiculously obvious. But she bit back her words and let Jake continue.
“I don’t want him alone,” he said, nodding back toward Dirk. “If he gets into any sort of trouble, somebody needs to be around to witness what goes down. I mean, he’s not armed, but ... still, you never know.”
Not armed, huh? Savannah flashed back on her slipping Dirk her Ruger .22 just before they left her house. Of course, he had been forced to surrender his badge, and his own gun was still with ballistics, the murder weapon in a case. He wouldn’t be getting his hands on it anytime soon, if ever.
Sure, her butt would be in a major sling if anyone found out she had loaned him the Ruger, but she wasn’t going to let him run around unarmed, virtually naked, after a killer.
“So, what are you saying?” she asked Jake. “You want me to stay with Dirk?”
Jake thought carefully before answering. “No, I think I should be with him. But will you be all right on your own?”
“If I need you, I’ll fire three shots into the air,” she said. When a look of horror crossed his face, she quickly added, “Just kidding! I’ll holler. It’s not that big a place; you’ll hear me.”
He looked doubtful but nodded anyway. “Okay, I guess. But don’t take any unnecessary chances. If, by any stretch of luck, somebody tells you that he’s here tonight, don’t go after him yourself. Come get us.”
“No problem,” Savannah said, knowing that, like any other cop, Jake’s motivation lay more in collaring the killer himself than in her safety. But, what the heck, she played along. “I’ll let you know if I get anything at all. And you guys do the same.”
“We will. Have you got your copy of the picture ... the one of the knife?” he said.
“The poniard,” she corrected him.
He shrugged. “Whatever.”
“No, not whatever. This crowd knows the difference, and you should, too, if you’re going to be mingling.”
“Okay. Poniard.”
“Yes,” she said, “thanks for asking. I have the picture here in my purse or pouch or whatever this leather thing is that Ryan gave me. But I’m not going to be showing it unless I have to.”
“Why not?” Jake asked, so innocently that it scared her. This was the investigating officer in whose hands Dirk’s life rested. Scary stuff.
“Because it looks like an evidence photo. The weapon is lying there on a stainless-steel table with a ruler next to it. You know, people watch Court TV these days. They’re smarter than they used to be.”
Dirk picked up his pace and caught up with them. “And,” he added, “thanks to NYPD Blue, they know that we tell them bald-faced lies to get the truth outta ‘em, too. Bein’ a cop ain’t what it used to be.”
“It never was,” Savannah replied.
“Huh?”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
They had just about reached the encampments. The smell of roasting meat, fresh coffee, and strong ale tantalized their noses, in spite of their large dinner and later pie indulgences.
“So, you guys are going together and I’m gonna go off on my own,” Savannah said, giving Jake a questioning look.
“That’s right,” Jake replied. He glanced at his watch. “Why don’t we meet over there by that big rock in, say, half an hour?”
“Wait a minute,” Dirk said, his feathers highly ruffled. “Since when are we splittin’ up like that? I go with Savannah; you’re on your own, buddy.”
“No. That’s not how it’s going,” Jake said, bristling a bit himself. “I’m in charge here and—”
“Hang on, hang on,” Savannah said, grabbing Dirk’s arm and turning him toward her. She could see the evening diving into a bucket headfirst. “I want it this way. A female can get a lot more information out of a male without another male hanging around.”
Dirk looked doubtful.
She pointed to her bodacious cleavage. “Especially when she looks like this. See y’all in half an hour. And I’m betting you, I’ll do better in my corset then you two will with your tights and oversize codpieces.”
“I’m looking for a man with a twelve-inch poniard.”
“So, who isn’t?” replied the lusty wench who was ladling a wicked-looking amount of dark ale from a wooden keg into a huge pewter mug.
Savannah laughed. “Not just any man, and not just any twelve-inch poniard.”
“Ah, a lady of discriminating tastes,” the lass replied, one eyebrow lifted. “Now there’s where we differ. Any poniard of such hearty proportions is worthy of a maiden of ill repute, such as meself.”
She offered the foamy-topped tankard to Savannah, who graciously refused. The self-proclaimed strumpet took a hearty draught herself. “And what sort of... blade is it you’re searching for, m’lady?”
Savannah sat down beside the young woman on a bale of hay that had been covered by some roughly woven blankets. A dry, night wind caught the canvas flap of a nearby tent and fluttered it. Over their heads, flags bearing crests also snapped and popped in the breeze. A campfire about ten feet away sputtered and showered tiny, glowing ash into the air. The mystery meat that was roasting over it on a spit smelled incredible.
“I saw this poniard the other day here at the faire,” Savannah said, “and I want to either buy it or find out where I can get one just like it. The hilt was a cobra’s head with red stones in the eyes.”
“Why would you want something like that?” The woman pulled a dagger from her leather belt and handed it, hilt first, to Savannah. “Now here’s a fine piece, to be sure, with authentic rune symbols on the handle. ’Tis much finer than any cobra nonsense. Besides, the fellow who carries it is a lad of low degree, and you’d best not venture into his vicinity if you can avoid him.”
“A maiden of ill repute rates him a lad of low degree,” Savannah said with a smile. “Not a high recommendation.”
The maiden licked the foam off her upper lip. “That fellow crawls lower on his belly than the cobra on his poniard. Cut a wide path around him, if you know what’s good for you. His name is Snake, and it says far more about his conduct with ladies than it does about his ... weapon.”
“Where is Sir Snake?” Savannah asked. “So that I can
avoid him, that is.”
The maiden shook her head and chuckled. “My warning has fallen on deaf ears. You’re so smitten with his vulgar poniard that you won’t heed my words of wisdom. Ah, well ... it seems the stars are against you, m’lady. The knave you seek is here this very night. He’s down near the river among the gypsies. They’re the only ones who haven’t banished him ... yet. I wager they will, once they’ve relieved him of his poniard and other valuables.”
“Thank you so much,” Savannah said, rising. “And exactly where are the gypsies camped... so that I can be sure to go the other direction, of course.”
“Of course. ” She pointed in the distance, where a large bonfire lit a copse of oaks near a narrow creek that glimmered, a thin silver ribbon in the moonlight. “That’s where you’ll be most likely to ... not ... find him.”
At the edge of the gypsies’ camp, Savannah ran into Dirk and Jake, who were hurrying down the path in the same direction.
“I understand our guy is here tonight,” she told them.
“Yeah,” Dirk said, panting slightly, “that’s what we heard, too. I can’t wait to get my hands on the—”
“Now, now ... none of that vigilante nonsense,” Savannah said, cutting off Jake, who had opened his mouth to say the same thing. “You’re just here to identify the guy, and I’m here in case Jake needs somebody to help knock the stuffin’ outta the little weasel.”
As they approached the camp, they heard the classic sounds of a violin and an accordion, as well as some hearty singing, clapping, and tambourine jingling. Near the large bonfire, a couple of young women and a man performed a feverish dance, whirling and spinning in brightly colored costumes to the musicians’ merry tune.
A red-and-blue-striped caravan had been drawn close to the fire, and food and drink were being generously dispensed from the back of the wagon. When it came to merrymaking, it seemed the gypsies were even more experienced than their counterparts higher up the hill.
“You guys hang out here for a minute,” Savannah told them. “It’ll be better if I ask about him.”
“Let her,” Dirk said. “She’s good at wringin’ information outta people and them not even knowin’ they’re bein’ squeezed.”
“All right, I guess.” Jake pouted a little, like a kid who wasn’t getting to play the captain of the football team. “But hurry back.”
Savannah gave him a half-lipped sneer and walked off toward the caravan. Several young fellows in their twenties were chewing on ears of corn and rows of spare ribs, dripping with a fragrant sauce. They had been laughing and talking, but when they saw Savannah approach, they stopped and exchanged lascivious, knowing looks.
“Good evening, m’lords,” she said, trying to turn a Georgian drawl into a crisp, old English accent. What came out was a strange mixture of both. The gypsies chuckled.
“Good evening to you, fair maiden,” said one as he flashed her a grin that probably would have been sexy, if bits of corn hadn’t been stuck to his chin. “Shall I read your palm and tell you what wonders await you... this very evening.”
“Let me guess,” she said, sizing him up. “You’ll predict a meeting with a tall, dark, handsome stranger ... or maybe two strangers.”
Gypsy Number Two laughed and nearly dropped his rack of ribs. “I see you have the gift of second sight yourself, m’lady.”
“Not at all,” she said. “But I’ve had more than one lecherous lad cross my path at this faire, and I have a feeling that if you were to tell me my fortune, the cards would be stacked in your favor.”
“A fine lady like yourself could do worse than a couple of free-spirited gypsies,” Corn Face said, flashing white teeth.
“Speaking of worse,” she said, “I’m looking for someone much worse than either of you, I’d bet. He’s a fellow by the name of Snake. Do you know where I might find him?”
The rib-eater turned to his friend. “Snake has his problems with the ladies. One damsel cannot rid herself of him, and another cannot find him.”
“If I were Snake,” the second one said thoughtfully, “I’d choose this second one. She’s more comely and far friendlier. Should we point her in his direction?”
“If we do, our friend Snake will be forever in our debt.”
“Indeed.” He waved his corncob in the general direction of a path that led away into the trees. “The last time we saw him, Snake was hastening yonder, trying to catch up to a belly dancer who had slapped his face and told him to mind where he placed his lips.”
“I think,” said the other one, “that he was determined to give her a second chance to appreciate his... talents.”
“Whether she wanted that chance or not?” Savannah asked.
“I think her reluctance was half her charm,” he replied.
Savannah raised an eyebrow. “I see. And would you pursue a woman who had slapped your face and told you to take your lips off her?”
He laughed and glanced approvingly up and down her figure. “I have never suffered such a fate, lady. My lasses beg for more.”
“Oh, I doubt they have to beg,” she replied. “Thank you for your help, gentlemen. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
“If you don’t find that knave, Snake, come back and enjoy the moonlight with us,” one of them called after her.
She waved good-bye and hurried back to Dirk and Jake. “He’s gone down that path into the trees, after some gal who refused to pucker up.”
“A real charmer with the ladies,” Dirk said, a depth of anger in his eyes that Savannah had seldom seen before. “Let’s get him.”
“Yeah ... let’s,” Savannah said, heading for the path. “Don’t forget it’s a team effort, buddy.”
He replied by muttering unintelligible obscenities under his breath as he followed her.
“We don’t want to kill the only other witness to your wife’s murder,” Jake added, rushing to catch up with them.
“You two can just shut up now,” Dirk snapped. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’m not going to shoot the only guy standing between me and a murder rap.”
Jake stopped abruptly and grabbed Dirk’s arm. “What do you mean, ‘shoot the guy’? Are you carrying a weapon?”
Savannah gave Dirk a warning look, which Jake intercepted.
“No, of course not,” Dirk grumbled. “Why would I want to be carrying a gun to defend myself when we’re trying to nab a cold-blooded killer? Who’d want personal protection at a time like that? Certainly not me. I just figured I’d spit in his eye.”
Jake stared at him for a long moment, weighing whether to push any further, then said, “Let’s just find him. We’ll play it by ear from there.”
As they approached the stand of oaks, the path split, the left leading deeper into the trees, the right around the edge of the miniforest and down to the riverbank.
“Since there’s two of us,” Jake said to Savannah, “we’ll go into the trees. You take the one leading to the river.”
“No way,” Dirk said. “This guy’s already killed one woman. We’re staying together. Or you go off by yourself, McMurtry.”
“Nope.” Jake shook his head. “I’m not taking my eyes off you, especially if you’ve come armed ... with a mouthful of spit,” he added sarcastically.
“Thanks for your concern.” Savannah slapped Dirk on the shoulder. “But we’ll cover twice as much ground this way. I’ll give a yell if I need you.”
Dirk muttered a few more objections, but Savannah left them and headed toward the river, which sparkled in the moonlight as though it had been liberally sprinkled with fairies’ dust. The smell of wild sage filled the moist night air, along with the smoke and cooking aromas from the campfires.
Such a romantic place, she thought, to be looking for a killer.
She hadn’t expected the burbling of the water to be so loud. She wondered if she would be able to hear anyone, even if they were near. Her eyes searched the shadowed brush that lined the bank, and her skin tickled along the back of her nec
k. It was a sensation she often experienced when danger was close. Long ago, she had learned not to dismiss it.
Normally, she didn’t pull her weapon unless she intended to use it. But as her intuitive anxiety mounted, she reached inside the leather pouch Ryan had given her for a purse and pulled out the Beretta. She even switched the safety off.
When she saw the path crook away from the river and into the back edge of the woods, she felt even more apprehensive. Without a flashlight, it was going to be pretty dark under the trees. She reminded herself that if she wasn’t careful, she could even get spooked and wind up shooting Dirk or Jake ... or vice versa.
Dry leaves crackled beneath her feet as she walked slowly among the trees, each step taking her deeper into the darkness. If she had wanted to sneak up on someone, they would certainly hear her steps. But then, she reminded herself, she would hear theirs, too. From here the sound of the river flowing was muted. She couldn’t see worth a tinker’s damn, but she could at least hear again.
The shivers along the back of her neck intensified so much and so suddenly that she stopped still and waited, holding her breath and feeling her pulse throb in her head.
In some bushes off to her left, she heard a rustling, but the sound was small, like that of a bird or maybe a rabbit. The sound to the right was much bigger.
Her finger moved to the gun’s trigger as she lowered the barrel. “Freeze,” she said to the mass of shapeless shadow. “I can see you, and if you make another move, I’m going to blow your brains out.”
Of course, she couldn’t see them. She couldn’t see a blamed thing, but they didn’t have to know that.
“All right,” she said, taking one step forward, closer to a tree, in case she needed to duck for cover, “walk toward me ... slowly... your hands in the air.”
She wasn’t that surprised when no one came forward. In all the years she had tried it, the ploy hadn’t worked a single time. But for some reason which only she could explain, she thought it was a pretty good one, at least theoretically. She was determined to keep trying until somebody fell for it.
Sugar and Spite Page 13
