Southernmost Murder

by C. S. Poe

  Jesus Christ. No wonder Cassidy stole this diary. And the St. Augustine museum had no clue the marvels they had tucked away. No freaking clue!

  I turned the page. A few of the dates were left blank before Rogers noted on April 27th that he went to the court to warn them of his meeting with Captain Jack. The locals are fearful of this man and ask I not speak his name, but when I demanded to know what is to be done of such a nuisance, they shy from calling the Navy in. Damn Southerners.

  April 28th: I couldn’t sleep and walked down to the wharves. In the dead of night, I swore the Red Lady was docking! Could her captain be here? What man at the docks has been paid off to allow this criminal to set anchor? I was too afraid to stay and watch!

  April 29th: Ashamed I abandoned my vigilance at the wharves, I returned in the early hours. It was then I saw what I still cannot explain. This Captain Jack! He disembarked and disappeared into a shanty. But when he emerged, it was my dear Thomas.

  Unbelievable. This was an eyewitness account by a very creditable, honest man.

  Cassidy was right from the start. Damn it!

  I flipped through several more pages, but the last piece of evidence I could find before Rogers went back to his run-of-the-mill entries was on May 5th.

  I have recanted. I cannot do the right thing. My heart has been compromised.

  Do the right thing? Rogers must have meant he couldn’t report Jack if it meant putting Smith in danger. He couldn’t go through with it and told the courts he must have been mistaken. Because of his heart.

  My phone started ringing as I considered how Jun’s theory of lovers was looking more real by the second. “Hello?” I said distractedly.

  Static.

  I straightened in my chair and looked up, but Tillman—in an act of camaraderie—was talking to Jun about the contents of an open folder in his hands. The two of them were paying me no attention.

  “Who is this?” I asked quietly.

  More static.

  “Smith?” I whispered.

  “Aubrey,” his crackly voice said.

  I held my breath.

  “You’ll be dead too.”

  “TILLMAN’S GOING to request incoming call records from your cell provider,” Jun said. He swung his hand lightly in mine as we walked along Mallory Square at sunset. “That’s why you signed those consent forms—so he can figure out who keeps harassing you.”

  “It wasn’t harassing,” I mumbled. “He said I’d be dead! That’s a bit more serious than harassing, don’t you think?”

  It had been the longest day of my life. I’d been up since the asscrack of dawn and felt like a week’s worth of time had passed in what was in reality about twelve hours. But in the course of one day, we’d somehow stumbled upon historical proof that Smith was a famous pirate captain, that he might have salvaged a long-lost sunken treasure now worth a cool mil, and had a possibly intimate and more likely heartbreaking relationship with one Captain Edward Rogers.

  Bob Ricci wanted me fired for doing my job, Adam had an awkward crush on me, we’d discovered the remains of who was almost most certainly Captain Smith after their mysterious disappearance from the closet, and Josh Moore was a pretty decent candidate for murderer of the week, in my opinion. We still didn’t know exactly what Cassidy had been killed over, but I was convinced it was a treasure map of some sort. Of course, I wasn’t allowed in the Smith Home to confirm if any artifacts had been stolen and find where the map could potentially lead us!

  I’d have loved a stiff drink or three about then, but Jun wouldn’t have approved of mixing pills and liquor.

  “That’s why Tillman is on top of it,” Jun said. He let go of my hand and touched my lower back, making me go all weak in the knees. “And it’s why you’re not leaving my sight and we’re officially dropping this little Easter egg hunt we’ve been on.”

  “We’ve nearly figured it all out,” I said as I came to a stop and looked up at him.

  “Figured what out exactly?”

  “Well, I—you can’t deny the story unfolding about Smith is quite fascinating.”

  “Sure. It’s interesting,” Jun agreed. “But the man’s been dead for nearly a hundred and fifty years. You’re still alive, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “You know, if I could get into the house, we’d be able to narrow this down.”

  “The treasure map?” Jun questioned. He glanced off to his left and led me to a merchant’s jewelry stand.

  “We both know something had to have been stolen from the captain’s study,” I replied, following him. “The facts we’ve uncovered tell me that Jack… was a real pirate, and he probably met a terrible fate—considering Smith was inside the walls of his own home.”

  “We don’t know those remains are Smith’s yet,” Jun said. “And that doesn’t prove who killed Cassidy.”

  The woman running the stand glanced between the two of us but decided it was best to not say anything. Jun leaned over to examine the goodies.

  I kept talking, despite his obvious attempt to sidetrack me. “No, but it proves the likelihood of the treasure being real. And if we confirm that something is missing, I bet it’ll lead us to the killer trying to dig up wherever Smith—er—Jack hid the fortune.”

  Jun picked up a colorful ring. “I think the number-one priority is to let Tillman track this person via your phone. It’ll likely get faster results than running all over the island, looking for buried Spanish silver.”

  Of course, Jun was right.

  “That’s handmade,” the merchant finally said.

  Jun turned the ring over a few times. “Very impressive.” He offered it to me. “Like it?”

  I perked up as he dropped it into my palm. It was an octopus tentacle that wrapped around several times and was painted with a shimmery rainbow motif. “It’s so cute!”

  “How much?” Jun asked the woman.

  “Sixty dollars.”

  Craaaap. Pretty and pricy.

  I sighed and handed it back over to Jun, but he shook his head and took out his wallet. “Wait, Jun, you don’t—”

  “Do you want it?” he asked, staring down.

  “Well… yeah, but—”

  He just nodded and opened his wallet to pay the woman. “Thank you.”

  She smiled. “It’s one of a kind.”

  “So is he,” Jun said, petting the back of my head briefly. “Come on, Indy.”

  “You didn’t have to buy this,” I said as we started walking again.

  “If I wanted to?”

  “You’re too charming for your own good.” I slid the ring onto my pointer, turning it this way and that to catch the sinking sun’s rays on the colors. “I really love it. Thank you.”

  Jun’s mouth quirked to the side in a smile. He petted my hair again, leaned down, and kissed my forehead. “You’re welcome.”

  “What should I make for dinner tonight?” I asked, looking up from the ring.

  He shrugged.

  “Oh! I can make a really good seafood marinara pasta. I put shrimp and baby clams in it.”

  “Sounds wonderful. Do we need to pick anything up at the store?”

  “Nope. It’s all at home.”

  Jun looked to the side, eyeing another merchant stand. “I’m going to grab a drink for the walk back to the car. Thirsty?”

  “Water, please.”

  Jun maneuvered around a few groups of people and got in line behind two women ordering some mixed drink served in a coconut. I stared down at the ring again, leaning back against the railing that overlooked the ocean. It wasn’t the gesture of buying the ring that I loved, although major boyfriend points because I’m too cheap to have gotten this for myself. It was the stupid simple fact that Jun didn’t make fun of me for liking octopuses.

  It sounds so lame, I know. But they’re special to me, and Matt said I was creepy for liking them. When we had been dating, he asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I begged for a trip to Boston to visit the aquarium. Instead, he boug
ht me a DVD of tentacle porn.

  Hilarious.

  So yeah, it was a cool ring, but it was a lot more than that.

  “Grant!”

  I looked up. Standing maybe fifteen feet away was Josh Moore with a plastic cup in his hand.

  When our eyes locked, he dropped the drink and roared, running forward. “You son of a bitch!”

  I pushed myself off the railing in a rush and jumped sideways as Josh tried to grab at me. “What the fuck?”

  “Keep your fucking nose out of our business, you little twerp!” Josh grabbed the front of my T-shirt and yanked me close. He reeked of cheap beer, and his sunburned face was twisted up in sheer rage.

  “Let me go!” I shouted, clawing at his meaty hand. “Dude! Are you insane?”

  “Sending the cops after me?” Josh growled, ignoring the sounds of startled tourists moving away from our commotion and not helping. “Think you’re untouchable because you’re getting some dick that has a badge? I’ll make you pay.”

  And a fist came at my face faster than I could react. Drunk or not, Josh landed a good hit to my jaw. My teeth chattered together, and I bit my tongue, tasting the tang of blood. Fear and adrenaline surged through my veins, and my raised-on-the-streets-of-Brooklyn-before-gentrification reflexes kicked in. On impulse alone I spat in Josh’s face, and a wad of blood and saliva drooled down his cheek.

  He let go to wipe at it, and I jumped up, decking him hard.

  Well—hard for me, but I’m tiny and he’s no less than the size of a small mountain, so while he staggered to the side but remained standing, I felt like I’d broken every bone in my hand.

  “Son of a fuck!” I screamed, cradling my fist. I looked at Josh and saw his cheekbone was bleeding. My ring cut his face. Served him right!

  “I’ll rip your goddamn heart out!” he snarled.

  Holy crap!

  Jun grabbed Josh’s arm from behind and yanked it hard, forcing Baldy McShit-Faced to spin awkwardly on his feet so they were looking at each other. Josh slugged Jun, and I swear to God, Jun let him, because in the same intake of air, Jun had Josh pinned on the ground facedown, arm twisted up behind his back, with a knee holding him still.

  He looked up at me. “Call the police.”

  It sort of took a second for Jun’s voice to register, because my head was still playing that incredible takedown even though my eyes were seeing something totally different.

  “Aubrey!”

  I shook my head and blinked. “What? Police—yes!” I fumbled for my phone and used the hand not throbbing to call 911. All the while, Josh swore obscenities at me and Jun, The Man, God, his mother—and the onlookers clapped like we were a group of street performers.

  “LET ME see.” Jun cradled my chin and tilted my head up as I removed the ice pack a cop had offered for my face.

  The police had come to Mallory Square and picked up Josh, who was belligerent and still trying to fight even after they got him handcuffed. We ended up at the local station too, which ruined any semblance of a romantic—or at least normal—evening, especially after Jun had been adamant that we were stepping away from this hot mess. But we needed to give statements, and Jun felt it necessary that Tillman knew about Josh.

  Jun’s eyes narrowed slightly, that one tiny change in his expression speaking volumes more than any angry words he could have spewed.

  “Did it bruise?” I asked.

  “Yes.” He had me put the ice pack back and then crouched. He picked up my right hand and removed the second ice pack. “Can you move your fingers?”

  “Yeah, it’s okay,” I said as I wiggled them all. “I didn’t keep my wrist straight. I’ve usually got a mean right hook, you know.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Jun pressed my puffy hand in between his own briefly before letting go.

  “How’s your face?”

  “Fine.”

  “That was a pretty awesome takedown you made,” I said. “Will he be booked for assaulting a federal agent?”

  “I wasn’t technically on the job,” Jun replied as he stood back up.

  “Mr. Grant and Agent Tanaka. Again.”

  We both turned to see Tillman coming in through the front door, shaking his head.

  “Detective,” Jun greeted.

  “I’m considering having you put on payroll at this point, Agent,” Tillman said wryly.

  Jun’s mouth did that little quirk thing. “Sorry to bother you. I’m sure you’d like to go home at some point.”

  Tillman just pushed his suit coat back and put his hands on his hips, doing that cop pose again. “The arresting officers brought me up to speed. Will you be pressing charges, Aubrey?”

  “Hell yes, I’m pressing charges!” I retorted. I lowered the ice pack on my face. “He fucking punched me! I’ll have to pancake foundation on to hide this.”

  “I spoke with Mr. Moore after the two of you left my office earlier. He didn’t have an alibi for his whereabouts last night,” Tillman said after a beat.

  “Home alone watching television,” Jun muttered.

  “Basically,” Tillman agreed.

  “Did you tell him about me? He claimed I sent the cops after him.” I pressed the pack against my jaw again. “He said he was going to rip my heart out. The guy’s a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

  “Of course I didn’t,” Tillman said sternly. “But you can rest easy knowing he won’t be going anywhere outside of jail soon.”

  “Do you think he killed Cassidy?” I tried. “He’s hammered. Maybe it’s killer’s remorse?”

  Jun and Tillman looked at each other and spoke telepathically. When did they suddenly become so buddy-buddy? Cops, man. Seriously….

  “What?” I asked, looking back and forth.

  “I’ll keep you apprised,” Tillman stated, shaking Jun’s hand.

  “Thank you. Have a good night, Detective.” Jun nudged my shoulder, and I stood awkwardly to follow.

  “Wait, what happened? You guys just talked with your eyes!”

  Jun hushed me until we were outside of the station. “If it’s all right with you, I’d like to go home.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine, but what was the telepathy you guys did?” I asked again, following Jun to the rental car.

  He opened the passenger door for me, then gently shut it after I got in. Jun walked around the front of the car and slid in behind the wheel. “It’s hard to say about Josh.”

  “He had the means,” I said, raising one wimpy finger. “He could have easily broken the window himself. And with free rein of the house, who’s to say he didn’t find what they needed in the study and then carry out stealing it when I was supposed to be away on vacation?”

  Jun didn’t look at me as he pulled onto the road.

  “And motive—Christ, if the treasure is real, a sweet million is excellent motive. But I guess forensic evidence is really what Tillman needs, huh?” I continued. “Fingerprints on the balcony door maybe, or even on the marlinespike? Maybe some stray paint in a suspicious place? You know, Josh has my cell number…. He could have been making those creepy calls.”

  “You’ve brought up a point that I’ve been hesitant to speak about,” Jun said.

  I turned back to him, watching the passing orange streetlamps briefly light his profile. “What point?”

  “Josh is certainly a person of interest,” he said after a pause. “And if he’s behind the breaking and entering as well as murder, you said it’s been two weeks since he had access to the home.”

  “Right.”

  “And yet they waited until the night you were supposed to be away from work.”

  “Uh, yes,” I hesitantly answered. “What’re you angling at? Cassidy really does have surveillance in there somewhere?”

  “No. Someone who’s associated with the property told them to wait because they knew about your vacation.”

  “I REALLY don’t feel comfortable eyeing my employees as suspects,” I said around the toothbrush in my mouth. “I don’t want to
sniff out the rat.”

  “I didn’t ask you to.” Jun leaned down and rinsed his mouth with water.

  “But you think someone I work with is in cahoots with Josh, or at least Cassidy.”

  Jun straightened and wiped dripping water from his chin. “I think there is a high probability that is the case.”

  “Based on your gut?” I stared at Jun in the mirror’s reflection.

  “My gut’s been doing this for eighteen years,” Jun answered. He moved his hand over my shoulders in a comforting manner before sliding it down to my lower back. “You say folks know the alarm system at the home is testy? Maybe they suspected nothing but a cruiser would drive by with you on vacation.”

  I pursed my lips around the brush. “I’m liking this less and less.”

  “So am I.”

  “Can’t we just ignore all the bad shit and have fun hunting down a lost Spanish treasure?”

  Jun patted my butt before walking out of the bathroom. “Come to bed, Indy.”

  I finished up and rinsed my mouth. I turned off the light to the bathroom and then the loft as Jun pulled the comforter back on my bed and lay down. I ran across the room and jumped on the mattress, landing partially on top of him. He grunted and laughed, grabbing on to me.

  “That’s Dr. Jones to you, mister.” I leaned down and kissed him.

  “Begging your pardon,” Jun murmured between kisses.

  I took Jun’s hands and yanked them up over his head as I settled on his hips. “This okay?”

  “Yes,” he breathed. “It’s after ten, though. Don’t you need to sleep?”

  “There are few things more important than sleep,” I replied. “But sex with you is one of them.”

  “I’m honored.”

  I leaned down to kiss him again and wiggled my ass against Jun’s crotch. I grinned when he sucked in a sharp breath of air. I sat up and yanked my T-shirt off, tossing it somewhere in the room. “Touch me.”

  Jun’s hands were immediately on me, deft fingers sliding up my sides and playing with the barbells in my nipples. He moved his grip to my back, holding me still as he put his mouth on my chest.

  I groaned and slid my arms around his neck to keep him there, rocking my hips lazily. “I’m gonna fuck myself so good on your cock.”