vendors scooped out prawns and shrimp by the pound, fresh from the Gulf; slapped down snapper and sea bass, grouper and swordfish too, fresh onto the wet plastic tarpaulins that covered the tables, fish and other creatures that had only an hour or so before swam miles out in the deep water.
“After seeing that crime scene, I’m convinced. I know, I said before that I believed you, back in Birmingham, Longville, but maybe I still had my doubts. Now, any shred of doubt I was holding onto is gone.”
“What was it that finally convinced you?”
Tiller looked decidedly uncomfortable with the question.
“I hate to put it this way, and if you ever tell anybody I said this, I’ll deny it, okay?”
I nodded, saying nothing.
“When I walked into the girl’s room, I felt the bastard’s presence there. When I stepped out onto that porch, I knew he’d been there. I could just feel it. So go ahead, laugh, but now I know I can’t leave here until we’ve run him to ground again. Until we put him away for good or kill him, I’m on this case.”
I nodded again. “I’m not laughing, because I know exactly what you mean. Call it two old cops with intuition, call it ESP, whatever. Maybe that little girl’s guardian angel is giving us a hint. I don’t know. One thing that I do know, Tiller, and that is what you and I felt was . . . evil. Like when you are walking down a quiet little path in the woods and hear a rattlesnake. I know, because I felt it too.”
We stood there silently for a moment, looking out over the calm yellow sunset of the Gulf Coast. The gulls were wheeling above us, and the sailboats calm and lovely in the distance. The two of us stood there silently by the sea, and thought about evil.
A pungent, fishy smell hung in the spicy air, and I felt a thin layer of sweat break out on my skin in the clinging Gulf Coast heat. We walked along for a while, without speaking. There were many offbeat little shops with wide windows in front, selling souvenirs. Voodoo dolls, large stuffed crawfish, beer bongs and beads, model pirate ships, Mardis Gras posters. Anything and everything that evoked the mythos of the Gulf Coast in general and New Orleans in particular; the real, historical city and the mythic place that lived only in the imagination, all was for sale here.
I took a look around at the milling crowd, and saw a man in a light blue suit stop suddenly, and then walk awkwardly into a shop doorway that he had already passed. He had been looking directly at me when I turned around to look.
Tiller pointed to some shrimp in a bin nearby, and whispered into my ear.
“We’re being followed.”
“I just noticed him myself.”
Tiller chuckled. “Yeah—the guy in the powder blue suit? I thought so, too. I thought, ‘That’s somebody who’s trying a little too hard to look like a tourist.’ I mean, who in the hell is he trying to fool in that get-up? A suit like that would get you noticed in the crowd at Disney World.”
“Well, he’s probably not a police detective, so that’s good news, at least. Let’s give him some rope and see what happens,” I reasoned aloud.
“This town is just downright creepy. It’s even got me to thinking I’m psychic or some such crap.” Tiller nodded toward the low brownstone buildings that flanked either side of the street. Across the way, a small crowd had gathered to watch some street performers.
“Look at those kooks. Why don’t they get real jobs?”
“Tiller, you can have a pretty narrow view of the world sometimes.”
Tiller shrugged. “It’s just that there are so many freaks out there now. Maybe this guy in the blue suit is one of them. Or maybe I’m just out of my element.”
I looked behind us and shook my head. “That you might be. Whoever this character is, though, we seemed to have lost him.”
“Maybe we were wrong.”
“Don’t think so. I think he must have realized we were
“After seeing that crime scene, I’m convinced. I know, I said before that I believed you, back in Birmingham, Longville, but maybe I still had my doubts. Now, any shred of doubt I was holding onto is gone.”
“What was it that finally convinced you?”
Tiller looked decidedly uncomfortable with the question.
“I hate to put it this way, and if you ever tell anybody I said this, I’ll deny it, okay?”
I nodded, saying nothing.
“When I walked into the girl’s room, I felt the bastard’s presence there. When I stepped out onto that porch, I knew he’d been there. I could just feel it. So go ahead, laugh, but now I know I can’t leave here until we’ve run him to ground again. Until we put him away for good or kill him, I’m on this case.”
I nodded again. “I’m not laughing, because I know exactly what you mean. Call it two old cops with intuition, call it ESP, whatever. Maybe that little girl’s guardian angel is giving us a hint. I don’t know. One thing that I do know, Tiller, and that is what you and I felt was . . . evil. Like when you are walking down a quiet little path in the woods and hear a rattlesnake. I know, because I felt it too.”
We stood there silently for a moment, looking out over the calm yellow sunset of the Gulf Coast. The gulls were wheeling above us, and the sailboats calm and lovely in the distance. The two of us stood there silently by the sea, and thought about evil.
A pungent, fishy smell hung in the spicy air, and I felt a thin layer of sweat break out on my skin in the clinging Gulf Coast heat. We walked along for a while, without speaking. There were many offbeat little shops with wide windows in front, selling souvenirs. Voodoo dolls, large stuffed crawfish, beer bongs and beads, model pirate ships, Mardis Gras posters. Anything and everything that evoked the mythos of the Gulf Coast in general and New Orleans in particular; the real, historical city and the mythic place that lived only in the imagination, all was for sale here.
I took a look around at the milling crowd, and saw a man in a light blue suit stop suddenly, and then walk awkwardly into a shop doorway that he had already passed. He had been looking directly at me when I turned around to look.
Tiller pointed to some shrimp in a bin nearby, and whispered into my ear.
“We’re being followed.”
“I just noticed him myself.”
Tiller chuckled. “Yeah—the guy in the powder blue suit? I thought so, too. I thought, ‘That’s somebody who’s trying a little too hard to look like a tourist.’ I mean, who in the hell is he trying to fool in that get-up? A suit like that would get you noticed in the crowd at Disney World.”
“Well, he’s probably not a police detective, so that’s good news, at least. Let’s give him some rope and see what happens,” I reasoned aloud.
“This town is just downright creepy. It’s even got me to thinking I’m psychic or some such crap.” Tiller nodded toward the low brownstone buildings that flanked either side of the street. Across the way, a small crowd had gathered to watch some street performers.
“Look at those kooks. Why don’t they get real jobs?”
“Tiller, you can have a pretty narrow view of the world sometimes.”
Tiller shrugged. “It’s just that there are so many freaks out there now. Maybe this guy in the blue suit is one of them. Or maybe I’m just out of my element.”
I looked behind us and shook my head. “That you might be. Whoever this character is, though, we seemed to have lost him.”
“Maybe we were wrong.”
“Don’t think so. I think he must have realized we were
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