Collecting Shadows

by Gary Williams

  Rita walked out the back door of the shop accompanied by Pilot. The air was cool, and the temperature was expected to plummet as the sun went down.

  She was nervous, wondering if she was doing the right thing.

  She found Drew sitting on the ground, his back against the wall of the building on the far side near the dumpster. He was wearing an old sweatshirt, arms wrapped around his legs trying to keep warm. He heard them approach. “Good afternoon.”

  “Hey,” she said.

  “What brings you to my humble abode?”

  “I think it was the Dalai Lama who said, ‘There are only two days in the year that nothing can be done. One is called yesterday, and the other is called tomorrow, so today is the right day to love, believe, do and mostly live.’ ”

  “Well said,” Drew smiled.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said bashfully.

  “I don’t know. My calendar’s a little tight.”

  “Be serious. How about you come inside, and I’ll wash your clothes again. You can take a shower and wash up, then join Liam and me for dinner. Afterward, the three of us can go downtown to the Nights of Lights ceremony. It’s an annual holiday tradition where the city strings about a million white lights all around the town. Tonight, I have an old cot I can set up in the shop and you can sleep down there, out of the cold.”

  Drew spoke softly, “Rita, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I…I know you can’t support anyone else besides Liam.”

  “Who said support? I’m offering you a night out of the cold and a chance to get clean.”

  “Don’t forget dinner,” he said with a smile.

  “And dinner.”

  Drew stood.

  Pilot wagged his tail.

  “You said you would ‘make me a deal,’ but I feel like I’m the only one who’s benefiting.”

  “Oh, not exactly,” Rita faced her back door, motioning for him to follow. “You see, I’m not the best cook in the world. I think Liam would appreciate a nice meal prepared by a chef. Check that, I know he would.”

  “Deal,” he said enthusiastically as they passed through the door into the shop.

  “Just so you know, Liam is depressed,” she said, lowering her voice. “One of his teachers was murdered Thursday. He had grown close to the man.”

  “Murdered?”

  “During a robbery. Liam can’t catch a break with male role models. He’s still mad at my brother. He won’t let the anger go over how Tom died.”

  They paused inside the shop. “And how did his father die?”

  “They were in a fast-food place when a customer went berserk. He pulled a gun and shot seven people. Tom got Liam to hide under a table, then Tom jumped in front of a teenage girl and took the gunman’s last bullet. That was last year, and Liam won’t forgive his father for deciding to save the life of someone else, and, in Liam’s words, ‘choosing to abandon him.’ ”

  “That’s tough. As a police officer, it was instinctive for us to sacrifice ourselves. It’s not something the average person will do. It has to be part of their genetic make-up.”

  “Liam doesn’t see it that way.” She reached out and ran a finger along his beard. “I know this is No-shave November and all, but I think you’d look better without this mass of growth.”

  “Got a spare blade?”

  “A few.”

  Liam came bounding down the stairs. “Hey…Drew,” he gave his aunt a questioning stare.

  Rita spoke, “Liam, we’re getting a treat. Drew’s a chef and is going to cook for us this evening. Then we’re all going to the Nights of Lights kickoff.”

  “After I shower and shave,” Drew added.

  Liam offered a sad smile, “Aunt Rita, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer to stay here. I don’t feel much like seeing the lights tonight.” He quickly added, “But I’m not passing on a home-cooked meal.”

  “If that’s what you want to do,” Rita said.

  “It is. I have some reading to do.”

  Reading? Playing video games, yes, but reading? Rita was skeptical.

  Pilot rubbed against Liam’s leg. He absentmindedly patted the dog.

  Rita spoke to Drew, “The bathroom is the second door on the right upstairs in the hallway. You have to spin the shower faucet handle all the way to the left to get hot water.” She turned to Liam, “Can you please pull the cot out of the closet. You and Drew can carry it downstairs when he’s done.”

  Again, Liam gave Rita a questioning stare that gradually became a grin. She knew she was going to catch flak from Liam the next time the two were alone. She had preached that she couldn’t afford to support three people, yet here she was, doing it anyway.

  Maybe it was in her genetic make-up.

  Thirty-five minutes later, Drew came into the kitchen where Rita sat playing a game on her tablet. Liam was out, taking Pilot for a walk. The transformation was remarkable. While she had suspected he was an attractive man, the metamorphosis was better than she had imagined. In clean clothes, clean shaven, and with his hair combed, Drew had morphed into a rugged, handsome figure.

  That night, using what he found in Rita’s refrigerator and pantry, Drew cobbled together Porchetta pork chops garnished with fennel fronds and lemon wedges. On the side, he made green beans with minced garlic and rice with butter. It was the most scrumptious home-cooked meal she had eaten in a long time. She even broke out a bottle of chardonnay; not the most expensive bottle, mind you, but it seemed like a nice complement to the meal. Liam took one sip and turned his nose up. When she tried to pour Drew a glass, he respectfully declined.

  How could she be so stupid? He’d told her he was an alcoholic. “Drew, I’m…I’m…sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It’s my problem, not yours. Enjoy,” he encouraged her.

  She drank one glass and stopped. Before leaving the house, she made sure to use some mouthwash to rinse the smell from her mouth.

  Several minutes after 7:00, they walked down to Plaza de la Constitucion in front of the Bridge of Lions where the ceremony was to occur on the half hour. A throng of people crowded the lawn in lounge chairs and on blankets, and an equally large mass of humanity surrounded the large park. Town officials were milling about the center of the grounds, where nearby, a trio of musicians played Jingle Bells in a large, well-lit gazebo. It was chilly, and Rita tightened her coat around her. She had given Drew a man’s coat from her closet, which fit him nicely, thinking about how coincidental it was that her pilot and Drew were about the same build.

  They gently pushed their way into the crowd and settled on a location. People were friendly, already embracing the holiday spirit and giving plenty of space.

  “This plaza is the oldest public park in the United States, established by the Spanish in 1573,” Rita said.

  “I didn’t realize you were a history buff.”

  “I’m not. My former employee and Liam’s friend, Bailey, told me.”

  “So what exactly is going to happen here?” Drew asked, looking around.

  She smiled, “It’s a bit anticlimactic and mostly ceremonial. The band will play until 7:30, then the town officials will say a few words, and they’ll flip the switch. All the trees in this park, the bridge going across the bay, the entire bay front, historic structures, and most of the town, will be lit in white lights. It really is a spectacular sight.”

  “Then why is it anticlimactic?”

  “Because they keep the lights on well into January. You can see them any night.”

  He chuckled, “Then why are we here fighting the crowds?”

  “Because I wanted to get out of the house.”

  “I’m not complaining,” Drew said with a smile. “I haven’t had a day as good as this one in a long time.”

  A couple of men got in position in front of them, and their view was blocked. “This isn’t going to work,” Drew said, grabbing Rita’s hand. He led her to the side, then wedged past a small group in lounge chairs until he found a suitable spot where the view was
unobstructed. “Better,” he said, looking at Rita.

  When he went to release her hand, she re-gripped his, and he held on.

  “Yep, it’s a good day,” he repeated.

  50

  On Sunday evening, Bailey and Jason stopped by the shop to pick up Liam. The three of them walked toward the 321-year-old Spanish fort, Castillo de San Marcos. It was four days before Thanksgiving and crowds of tourists flooded the streets admiring the holiday lights.

  It had been Bailey’s idea for the members of the history club to meet and hold a vigil in memory of Ron Mast.

  As much as Liam was grieving his teacher’s death, Bailey was taking it even harder. Finding Mr. Mast’s notes strongly suggested his homicide was not some random mugging, as the police proposed. Liam found it particularly odd that the authorities had failed to mention anything on the news about the thin line of blood he saw around the man’s neck.

  Bailey, Jason, and Liam arrived at 9:00 p.m. on the north side of the Castillo, where they found the others waiting on the high, stone bulkhead that overlooked Matanzas Bay. It was a cool evening, and everyone was bundled up. The breeze coming off the bay brought the recognizable smell of brine.

  “Hey, guys,” Bailey said.

  One, Random, and Cal-Patty acknowledged them with a somber wave.

  Random handed each a long red candle. Calvin flicked a lighter and lit each one in turn. Then the seven students sat on the bulkhead with their legs dangling over the water. Bailey was on the left end, Jason to her right, and Liam beside Jason. Each held their candles nearly horizontal so that the wax dripped down to the water.

  Patty spoke, “We should say something about Mr. Mast.”

  Starting with Bailey, they each recounted a memory; some were light, some funny. Jason, who did not know Mr. Mast well, even said a few kind words.

  It was another reason that, as much as Liam wanted not to like Jason, it was impossible.

  Liam was the last to go.

  “I don’t have much to say,” Liam said, swallowing a lump. “I’ve only known the man since August. Knew, I mean.”

  He sought out Bailey’s eyes on the other side of Jason. She returned his look with a sad smile. It was a look that beckoned him to say more, no matter how inconsequential he thought the memory might be.

  Liam lowered his head, “It’s because of him that I know all of you. I was about to be suspended by the assistant principal when Mr. Mast stepped in. At the time, I thought being forced to join a history club was like a death sentence,” he chuckled, feeling his eyes tear up, “but I realize now that he knew I needed something to keep me involved. I never told him, but somehow he just knew. I will always remember him for that,” he sniffed.

  Random was sitting to his side, and put her arms around him in comfort.

  One broke in, “On the count of three, toss your candles into the bay. One…two…three.”

  Seven hands released seven red burning candles simultaneously. They streaked down to the surface, landing with a plop, where the water extinguished the flames. The momentary brilliance of light reflecting off the still surface of the bay was gone in an instant.

  Liam felt worse, not better.

  Jason stood. Bailey rose after him.

  “I’ve got to go,” Jason said, hugging Bailey. “I’ve got a trig test tomorrow, and math’s not exactly my strong suit.”

  “I understand,” Bailey said. “I’m going to hang out here a little while.”

  He kissed her, and she kissed him back.

  Liam couldn’t watch. Instead he looked out at the lights coming from the homes across the bay on Anastasia Island.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Jason said.

  “You better,” Bailey said.

  Jason addressed the others. “See you, Liam. Guys.”

  They all waved goodbye from where they sat on the bulkhead.

  Bailey sat back down beside Liam. “It really sucks that he’s gone.”

  “You will see him tomorrow,” Liam thought her comment was a bit sappy.

  “Not Jason. Mr. Mast.”

  “Oh.”

  “Time to tell them,” Bailey said to Liam. She looked past him to the other four in line.

  “Okay,” Liam said, retrieving a folded paper from his pants pocket.

  “Tell us what?” Patty asked.

  “Why Mr. Mast was really killed,” Bailey said.

  It took 20 minutes to run through everything they had learned about Mr. Mast’s discovery—the items from Kirkside, a treasure connected to the photograph of Henry Flagler, the recent deaths. Questions rained. When everyone was finally up to speed, Liam handed the paper to One. Random, Calvin, and Patty all huddled around to see.

  1. Column:Searched. Nothing found.

  2. Pergola:19 21 16 112 22 25 19 14 11

  3. Fanlight Window:Have address. Haven’t examined.

  4. Timepiece:No progress. Not sure what this refers to.

  5. Staircase banister:Any clue lost with house fire?

  6. Front door:No status

  Liam explained, “This was Mr. Mast’s progress. He found a code on the pergola, but that’s as far as he got.”

  “One of the items,” Bailey added, “the columns, are at the apartments where I live. In August, Mr. Mast came by, and we examined each one. He told me he was after a code, but at the time didn’t explain.”

  “So, based on this,” Patty said, “he found a set of numbers on the pergola, and nothing else, and he thought he’d found a code?”

  Bailey nodded. “That’s why we need to locate the rest of them.”

  “Aren’t we pretty much screwed since the staircase banister was lost in a fire?” One asked.

  Liam responded, “There’s a question mark behind that status, as if Mr. Mast wasn’t sure. It’s also possible that if we get the other five clues, we may figure out the puzzle without the sixth one.”

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Calvin asked.

  Random continued his thought, “I’d say it’s a big something. We don’t know how to decode the numbers. So even if you do find them all, what good will it do?” She wiped her bangs to the side and arched her eyebrows, accentuating the question.

  “Let’s take it one step at a time. First, let’s try and find the pieces. Then we’ll worry about deciphering,” Bailey said. “We need to get to them before this Scottish guy does. Is everybody in?”

  They all nodded.

  “What’s the plan?” Patty asked.

  “I say, we go with what we know,” Liam said. “Bailey, One, and I can recheck the columns at Kirkside Apartments. Patty: you, Calvin, and Random go to the address Mr. Mast had listed on St. George Street to check out the fanlight window.”

  “Why is it called a hamburger if there’s no ham in it?” Random asked.

  The others just stared at her.

  Bailey spoke, “Just remember guys, there’s a killer out there. Run at the first sign of danger.”

  “I always do,” One said.

  ****

  Liam, Bailey, and One walked to Bailey’s apartment complex.

  Bailey was anxious to avoid her mother. She didn’t want to have to explain what they were doing. Besides, her mother would worry and probably make Bailey come inside. It wasn’t that her mom questioned Bailey’s every move, but with her father’s condition, it had made her overprotective. In a way, Bailey understood. In other ways, she didn’t.

  The three of them crept quietly to the far side of the building, shielded from the street. The front exterior was well lit, so they stayed to the shadows.

  “And you’re sure that garage has an extension ladder?” Liam asked, pointing to the long, one-story structure nearby.

  “Mr. Mast used it.”

  “Is the light always on?” Liam asked.

  Bailey saw a glow coming from the edge of the garage door at the far end. “No, someone must have left it on.”

  Bailey led them to the entrance of her mother’s bay. She lowered her voice
to a whisper. “There are tools and equipment in an inner room on the left. That’s where the ladder is.” Again, she noticed the light seeping out of the far end. The light in each bay activated with the opening of that particular garage door and turned off automatically two minutes later. For the light to be on, it meant someone had manually flipped the switch at the back of the bay; something people rarely did.

  Slowly, quietly, Bailey unlocked the door. The threesome slipped inside. Just then, they heard one of the other doors open. Bailey quickly pulled the door closed behind them, leaving only a slight opening so she could see outside.

  “What’s the matter?” Liam asked.

  “Shhh.”

  “What’s the matter?” he whispered this time.

  “The door opened at the bay where the light was coming through,” she said very softly.

  The three all crowded against the narrow opening to watch as a man casually meandered away from the far side of the building.

  “He doesn’t live here.”

  “Are you sure?” One asked.

  “Yes.”

  The man, dressed in a dark overcoat, passed the front of the apartments, turned right at the sidewalk, and disappeared from view.

  “I’m going to follow him,” Liam said, opening the door and pushing by the other two.

  “That’s not a good idea,” Bailey said.

  “You aren’t James Bond, dude,” One added.

  “You two search the columns. I’ll be back.”

  51

  Liam slowly turned the corner of the apartment building. Ahead, the dark figure walked at a moderate speed. Liam paused to allow the man to increase the gap between them. There was a chance he might be the killer and had been examining the columns before they got there, although Liam considered it a long shot.

  The man continued down Riberia Street and crossed over at the next intersection. Liam followed. In case the man looked back, Liam pulled his phone out of his pocket, pretending that he was walking and texting. God knows he couldn’t be walking and surfing the Internet. Not with his flip phone.