Phantom Point
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 23: Max and Eve
Part 1 appears in this issue.
part 2
Karl brought around the Auto Wagon and Sam fetched picks, shovels, ropes and lanterns, which they loaded onto the truck bed. Marshal Rivers, Max, and Riley climbed up into the passenger seats and made room for Eve, who insisted on coming along over the men’s objections. The men also noticed her change of outfit, from a fashionable white summer frock to a man’s checked work shirt, blue jeans and riding boots.
The sun was setting over the Pacific, a flash of reddish-orange on the horizon, overhead a cloud-stippled, purplish sky. The Auto Wagon’s gas-lamps lit the way down the dark county road. They passed through Santa Teresa and the motorized buckboard and passengers caught the attention of townsfolk out on the streets. Hopefully, members of the Placco gang and Williams weren’t among the curious onlookers.
They chugged, backfired and bumped along over the railroad crossing and continued on past the town limits. Riley nudged Karl when they reached Joe’s fruit stand. The driver slowed down as his eyes scanned the shadowy roadside for the turn-off. Karl braked, made the turn cautiously and continued at a walking pace until Riley signaled for a stop.
Karl, Riley and the marshal descended from the high-wheeled vehicle and began unloading the equipment. Max helped Eve down from the passenger seat. “This could be unpleasant. Why don’t you wait here and guard the truck?” he said.
She frowned and shook her head.
“Suit yourself.” Then he left Eve to help the others.
Eve carried a lantern to light the way as Riley led them toward the clearing. Crickets chirped noisily; small animals scampered through the undergrowth; a yellow-eyed owl glanced down and hooted from its perch in a nearby tree.
When they reached their destination, Max, Riley and Karl cleared away the brush and went to work with pick and shovel. Eve and the marshal kept their lanterns trained on the spot. Before long, a stench like a wino’s vomit emerged from the hole in the ground. The men all recognized the smell of a decomposing body. Eve coughed and covered her mouth and nose with a handkerchief.
The marshal turned to her and said, “Why don’t you go back to the car, Miss? The boys will finish up here.”
Eve shook her head and remained where she was.
They uncovered the bloodstained laundry bag. Max and Karl climbed up out of the hole. They grabbed a length of rope and passed it down to Riley, who looped it around the laundry bag and fastened it securely. Then Max and Karl hauled up the bag while Riley pushed it from below. Once the exhumation was concluded, Riley climbed up and joined the others.
Riley took a knife from his belt, knelt by the bag and cut it open. A cone of light from the lanterns spotlighted Doyle’s bashed-in skull and a face covered in congealed blood and brains.
Eve turned her head away from the sight and retched.
Max walked to her, leaned over and whispered, “Go back to the car.” Then he turned to Rivers. “Please accompany Miss Sinclair, Marshal. We’ll finish up here.”
Eve nodded her agreement. She and the marshal headed toward the road.
Max, Riley and Karl filled in the hole and re-covered it. Then they carried the corpse, still wrapped in its laundry bag shroud, to the auto wagon.
* * *
Karl drove down a dark alley that dead-ended behind the marshal’s office. He parked the wagon and left the motor running. Max and Riley carried the body inside, and set it down on a table.
“Max,” the marshal said, “I’m going to phone the sheriff and the coroner, but let’s try to keep this quiet for now.”
“All right, Marshal. I guess it’s going to get pretty hot around here.”
“I reckon so. Goodnight, Max.”
* * *
Later that evening, back at The Eyrie, Max poured a nightcap and walked through the French doors to his bedroom balcony.
The sea was calm, the sky bright with stars and a moon that lit the cliffs like a searchlight. The fresh ocean air cleared the stench of death from his nostrils.
He recalled the paintings he had viewed at the Phantom Point settlement. The artists painted the ocean in all its aspects and moods: the mother of life who nurtures and sustains us; the angry goddess, her bosom nursing the monsters of the deep; bringer of storms, killer waves, destruction and death.
A soft knock broke in on his reflections. Max turned around and the sound repeated, this time louder. He left the balcony, walked over to the door and opened it.
Eve appeared in her dressing gown; her eyes looked tired and sad. “We need to talk. May I come in?”
“Are you all right?”
“I... I think so.”
“Listen, Eve. I’ve seen tough guys get sick in similar circumstances. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
She looked down and said nothing.
“I’m having a nightcap. Will you join me?”
She entered and noticed the glass in his hand. “It’s whiskey, I suppose?”
“What else? Have one, kid. It’ll do you good.”
“All right.”
Max poured and handed her a double. “Let’s go out on the balcony. It’s a lovely night.”
Eve followed him through the French doors. They stood together on the balcony, sipping whiskey and gazing in the direction of Phantom Point. “You’re probably wondering why I eliminated Merwin as a suspect in the Burgess murder,” she said.
“I can guess, but why don’t you go ahead and tell me. But before you do, I don’t think you’ve completely eliminated him.”
She set down her glass on the balustrade and turned to him. “You’re right, I haven’t totally eliminated Merwin. Yesterday, Hamlin arrested a suspect for theft of the Thomas Flyer. He and Burke have been grilling him, but so far they haven’t got much.”
“Is it the same guy who drugged you?”
“No, but the man they arrested may lead them to the murderer.”
“I see. Does Hamlin think this guy will talk?”
“Eventually. He’s got a record for grand theft auto and burglary. They’re going to work on him day and night until he sings.”
“The old third degree, huh?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.” Eve sighed and took another sip of whiskey.
“So, you and Hamlin are up against it, and you want to know what I think about the case. Is that why you’re here?”
Eve nodded. “Yes, that’s why I’m here.”
“For starters, I think Burgess was clean, but he got involved with a dirty client. A hazard of our profession, as I’m sure you already know. Anyway, I doubt Burgess was working for John Merwin, because the disappearance of the map is against Merwin’s interests.
“According to a reliable source, Burgess had a secret meeting with Williams, and that led me to suspect that Williams was the dirty client. That and the way Williams clammed up when I met with him. So I used Virginia Moore to gain access to the lawyer’s files. But according to you, Virginia tipped off her boss. Williams made a deal with Placco to ambush me and take me to the shack where he worked me over.”
“They guessed you have the map, or at least know where it is. Were they right, Max?”
“The map’s in a safe place and it’ll stay there for the time being. Unless you rat on me.”
“Don’t worry, Max. Your secret’s safe with me... for the time being.”
Max reached over and gently brushed away some stray hairs hanging over her eyes. “I’m sorry I made that crack about the lady detective. You’re a damn good detective, period.”
“Thanks, Max. So you don’t care if I’m a lady?”
“You’re better than any lady. You’re a woman.”
“You’re not so bad, yourself. So we’re real partners on this case?”
“You bet. Partners all the way. Let’s drink to it.” He raised his glass and downed the remainder of his whiskey.
Eve did the same. Her eyes watered, her face reddened and she started coughing into her hand.
“Are you OK?”
She raised her hand to indicate she was all right and cleared her throat. “Yeah, swell.”
He put his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, partner. I’ll buy you another.”
Copyright © 2022 by Gary Inbinder
