He hung up before Jackson could argue, then he moved to a public area, shed his jacket and shoes and dove in. He swam around hard and fast to the Lady Luck and caught hold of the mooring rope to swing himself up on deck.
Aldous was nowhere in sight. Malachi tiptoed around the deck to look down into the cabin, but it was a large one and his view was blocked. He had to take the steps.
The yacht was luxurious. The steps led to a galley and dining area, with a captain’s chair and all kinds of electronic gadgets to the left.
Still no sign of Aldous. There was a hallway that stretched toward the aft. He followed it, then quietly opened the first door. The room was a head, complete with shower. The second door opened to an elegantly appointed cabin. Empty. He tried the door across from it. Also empty.
One cabin remained. The master storeroom. He strode the last two feet down the hallway and listened. Logic told him that no woman could be captive there—unless she was dead. If she’d cried out at any time, she’d have been heard by someone on a nearby boat or even someone walking on River Street.
Tap, tap, tap.
Helen’s words still haunted him.
There was no tapping, just the rhythmic lap of water against the hull. He could hear a band playing at a riverfront club, but that wasn’t the noise he was listening for.
He heard the cabin door opening; he skirted back, sliding into the head, cracking the door slightly.
Aldous Brentwood walked down the hallway and went topside. Malachi couldn’t see him, but it sounded as if he’d hopped back onto the dock. He waited a moment longer and hurried down the hall to the aft.
He threw open the cabin door.
Abby stood still, wondering if she was really seeing what she thought she was. Maybe she wanted to see Blue so badly she’d envisioned him there.
But Malachi saw Blue. In fact, Blue had spoken to him.
And now, he’d actually spoken to her.
“Blue.” She said his name, wondering if he’d disappear. But the image remained. The spirit of the man she’d seen for the first time, years and years ago, when she and her grandparents and the Dragonslayer had been in danger.
He had led her to Gus; he had led her to save Helen.
She walked closer, but not too close.
“You helped me,” she told him.
He inclined his head. “Of course, but there is little I can do when no one sees. You see. Quite remarkable, Miss Abigail,” he said. His voice was like a dry wind. He didn’t speak often, she thought. She suspected it wasn’t easy for him.
“Did you see Gus...die?” she asked him. “And Helen—how did you know? What have you seen? We need your help again, Blue—we so desperately need your help.”
He shook his head and in that motion he seemed to impart great sadness.
“I came upon Gus. I tried to keep watch after I realized someone had opened the grate and knew about the exit by the riverbank. I was too late to realize that the Dragonslayer was being used. I was too late with Gus—but I began watching, walking a vigil around the Dragonslayer, up and down the tunnel, out to the river. I saw—from a distance—something. There was nothing I could do, no boat I could take. But you followed me, and the woman lived.”
She nodded. Hoping he’d be able to give her a name had probably been too optimistic.
“You’re still keeping watch,” she said. “And you saw someone approach the Dragonslayer last night in the middle of the night, when we were out. You scared that person, Blue. You made him leave.”
“I tried to see who it was. He left too quickly.” Blue moved with a flourish of his frock coat; he was evidently indignant. “He wore a cape as I sometimes wore. He pretends to be me!” He looked as if he’d say more, as if he’d unleash a spate of curses but determined not to—not with a great-great-whatever niece standing there. He waved a hand in the air. “The young gentlemen pretend to be me in your theatricals, but I find that quite charming. I appear heroic and honorable, do I not?”
“Very honorable,” Abby assured him.
“To be depicted so is palatable. For a killer such as this coward to take on my persona—that is beyond despicable. To torment and slay young women as he does... This is a monster. A monster, Abigail, and I will help you in every way that I can.”
“Thank you,” she said. “We need you.”
He nodded. “I continue to keep watch here. I watch over you as you sleep. I am here, in this hall, or below.” It sounded as if he attempted to clear his throat. “Times have changed, of course. And yet heinous murder remains heinous murder. And few people are so cruel and brutal as this...this piece of human refuse.”
He seemed to be fading.
“Blue,” she called out. “Why have you never spoken to me before?”
“Because there was no need,” he said. “You knew I was here. And you followed me each time, as I prayed you would. I...I need to rest now. This is...difficult for me. Perhaps one learns... Still, throughout the years, there are not so many who can see me, and fewer still who hear me. But, Abby, I am with you.”
Except, as he spoke the last words, he wasn’t. He disappeared as if he’d never been there.
Abby realized she was shaking.
She sat down on the chair in front of the computer screens. She gazed at them for a moment, her mind strangely blank and her hands still trembling. She clenched them into loose fists.
The screens showed her that Sullivan remained behind the bar, Macy chatted with customers, Bootsie raised a beer to his lips.
Will Chan sat and watched.
In the dining room, Paul and Roger were still at the table. Paul was speaking earnestly to Roger; Roger nodded and kept drinking.
He was going to play an interesting Blue the following day if he didn’t stop.
She left the computer screens, knowing that someone at the house on Chippewa was always watching them. By the time she came downstairs, Bootsie and Will were gone. Sullivan worked behind the bar, putting away glasses.
Macy was off-duty, and Grant Green had taken her position at the host stand.
“Hey, girl,” Grant said to her. “I’m glad you’re here. You getting any rest?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Abby said.
“No luck on the missing girl, huh?”
“Not yet.”
He leaned toward her. “I’m having the waitress bring a check to Paul and Roger. I’m pretty sure Paul wants to get Roger out of here. At least the two of them won’t be driving.”
“Thank God for small mercies,” Abby said.
“It’s all right to...hurry them out?”
“Grant, yes of course. You’re the manager. You can and should refuse to sell to anyone who appears inebriated. That includes my high school friends.”
He smiled. “Thanks. It’s just kind of... Well, we’re entering a new era at the Dragonslayer. We all need to adjust.”
She refrained from telling him that, at the moment, the running of the tavern was the last of her concerns.
“But you know what? I’m here. I’ll take care of this,” she told him.
She walked over to the table where Paul and Roger were still sitting. She slid in next to Roger and took his hands. “Look at me, Roger.”
When he did, she said, “You’re going home now. Go to bed and get some sleep. We’re doing the pirate show for the crowd tomorrow. I need you to be in good shape. You and Paul. I’m not an actor. I can only do it because I grew up here—and because I have the two of you. Okay?”
He smiled at her a little blearily. “Yeah, you know about Missy Tweed, don’t you?”
“She was ransomed,” Abby said.
“But she fell in love with Blue. She wanted to stay with him. He did save her—he came back to his ship to find that bastard, Scurvy Pete, trying to attack her. Scurvy Pete told him she was a captive and they were pirates and he was being a fool. So Missy thought Blue was her savior. Of course, Blue had seized her off her father’s ship, but that didn’t stop Missy from loving him. He was a businessman, Abby. Blue was a businessman. He only attacked ships that belonged to England’s enemies. He took her off her father’s ship when he saved the crew because the ship had been caught in a storm and wrecked and began sinking. So...Blue actually saved Missy twice,” he concluded.