Krewe Of Hunters: Haunted Destiny Part 38

Someone would come.

Blake and Minnie appeared, Minnie on her right side, Blake on her left.

"You must keep him talking," Minnie said.

"Yes...talk, play-and keep the piano between you and him, Alexi," Blake told her. "This is his favorite place. He's always loved being here. Maybe he became rich and famous as a computer genius but always wanted to be a singer? Make him talk to you. Even beg him to explain."

She played a Chopin piece.

And stared at Hank Osprey across the piano.

He seemed disconcerted, she thought. He'd expected to find her cowering and cringing behind a wall somewhere.

"Want to sing, Hank?" she asked. "Perhaps you could sing me a song about all this. Why the h.e.l.l would someone with your money and success decide to kill people? Kill women? If nothing else, you could've bought the kind of woman you wanted. Someone who'd stay home, who'd cook, clean and have a dozen children for you?"

"Alexi, you can't buy love." He sighed. "Surely, you know that."

"No, Hank, sometimes, love is something that just comes along. And sometimes, just by living, you earn love," she said. "You earn it with your actions, with laughter, with kindness."

"Oh, Alexi!" He rested one hand on the opposite side of the piano. "I never had a chance to earn it. I tried to earn your love. You gave me that line about honoring the memory of your fiance! Oh, he was a soldier, killed in action. Boo hoo. But that was a lie. You didn't care about him. You needed this, your career. You wanted to be a musician when you should've been home, mourning his loss. If he even existed. Women are great at making up boyfriends and lovers when they're trying to give a man the cold shoulder. And their supposedly great love for those men is a lie, too."

"Zachary existed, and my love for him was real, nothing I made up, Hank, which should be easy enough for a computer genius to find out. He existed and I loved him with all my heart. I still do."

"Okay, so yeah, I knew he existed. You got me there. But what about your great love for him? You still love him? That's why you're sleeping with the b.a.s.t.a.r.d you just met on this cruise? Oh, Alexi. Really? Did the man even take you to dinner? No, you're a wh.o.r.e, like the rest of them. No real respect for the men doing everything they can to please and support a woman!"

Alexi pretended to give his remarks serious thought. She considered mentioning Ginny, and then wondered if that would just set him off, make things worse.

"Zach's been dead longer now, Hank. You asked me out too soon," she said at last.

"Oh, yeah? If I'd asked you out now, would you have gone with me? No, you'd have slept with that cruise line guy, anyway. You'd see nothing but quick gratification-and someone who wouldn't stop you from doing this. Ah, yes! Entertaining, playing, singing. Bringing in your talented and beautiful friends, loving your precious work-more than you could ever love a man. Lying to me now isn't going to help, Alexi. I know you."

"Hank, some of us have to work. It's an expensive world for those of us who aren't computer geniuses."

"You women look at me and think 'gawky nerd.' A guy to use, to take money from."

"I never took money from you, Hank!"

"Okay, I'll give you that. You wouldn't even let me buy you a drink! But you used me all the same. You used me, teased me, in this room. Oh, Alexi, you're another one of those terrible women, and that's so sad. You're lovely. And you play the piano so beautifully... I even thought about finding someone else to be my musician, but it had to be you. No other woman was truly worthy of St. Cecilia's medallion. St. Cecilia, patron of musicians. The medallions needed-no, demanded!-sacrifices. Women who loved working more than they'd ever love a man. Ah, Alexi. You're implying you might have dated me, loved me, if the timing was different. You're such a desperate liar. I might have earned love? No, you wouldn't have bothered to know me. And Clara! Oh, she's something else. No dead serviceman for her, huh, real or not? Or is she like you, hiding behind the wall of mourning? Let's see, what did you tell me once?" He spoke in a falsetto. "'Oh, Hank. I can't... I still can't see anyone. Zach is still there, so close, in my heart.'"

"Zach was real. And I was in love with him in ways you'll never understand," she said.

"Right. You were in love with muscles and a tan, Alexi. And now you're going to tell me you're in love with Jude McCoy?"

"I might be," she said quietly.

"You disgust me! You're not in love. You're in l.u.s.t."

"And what about you, Hank? Were you ever in love? Or just in l.u.s.t?"

"I'm saving you, Alexi. From a life like this. And I'll save Clara, too. She'll be forever remembered, forever young. Forever a b.i.t.c.h-but a dead one."

"You'll never get to Clara," she told him. "You seem to believe you're so smart. That you're invincible. But I can promise you won't have a chance with Clara. They'll know it's you. They know now. You were clever. Of course, you are a computer genius. You killed and you plotted the disposal of the bodies and you kept moving on and... Really, who would suspect a man like you? Plus, you've been on this s.h.i.+p so many times. How did you do it? Befriend someone and figure out how to steal a master key? Everyone on this s.h.i.+p knew you-and trusted you. But it's over now. They'll trace how you bought the medallions. By now they'll have a mountain of evidence against you. Because guess what? You really weren't that smart. What a waste!"

He ignored her scornful comments about him. "The master key. Yeah, piece of cake. Even the captain sucks up to a guy like me! I've been on the bridge, in his cabin, at his desk. Where he kept his copy of the master. So easy to slip into a pocket."

"And Mexico? The explosion?"

"Women who wors.h.i.+p work and the almighty dollar come in every nationality, and everyone's for sale. You carefully pay a dozen different people for a dozen different services-and voil! Explosion. But no one can trace you because you've paid different people who have nothing to do with one another. And you create chaos by causing an explosion." He smirked. "I am very good."

"They'll know it's you."

"How? They'll never trace the medallions. Like I said, my grandmother bought them for my grandfather. That original set disappeared years ago..." He frowned. "But I bought another set from old Sam Winters. I paid an employee, now sadly gone, to be my go-between." His frown had turned into a grin. "And every single one of them went to the right woman. There are just two left. Yours-and Clara's."

"You perverted the meaning of those medallions," Alexi said. "You dishonored those saints."

"No! They wanted me to do it!"

She shook her head. "What a waste!" she murmured again.

"Waste? What waste are you talking about?"

"Of yourself!" she said softly. He seemed to be growing disjointed and irrational in his speech. "You will die or rot in prison."

She had to keep him talking. Help would come.

"You're wrong. I'll walk away. They don't know it's me. They'll never know."

"Hank! People aren't blind. You've been seen. When they...when they find me, they'll catch you red-handed." She flinched at the term and then swallowed a gasp when she saw his fingers tightening on the hilt of a knife. It was more of a cleaver, she thought, looking more closely at the weapon he carried. He must've stolen it from one of the kitchens. Just as easily as he'd visited the captain, he could've had access to any of the kitchens. Everyone loved Hank. He was a frequent and popular pa.s.senger on Celtic American s.h.i.+ps.

"He's getting agitated," Blake murmured.

"Play that Billy Joel guy," Minnie suggested. "Throw him off!"

"He's not going to sing now, Minnie," Alexi said.

"Who are you talking to?" Hank demanded as he looked around.

"I'm talking to Minnie," she replied. "I can't believe you don't know Minnie-or any of the other ghosts on the Destiny," she said. "Since you're so familiar with the s.h.i.+p."

"Ghosts! Bull," Hank spat, his fingers moving and the knife twitching in his hand.

Blake stood, staring at Hank.

The murderer.

"Minnie sings beautifully," Alexi said.

"She's dead. She was a wh.o.r.e, too, who wanted to sing instead of caring for a husband and children?" Hank asked, his lips curling in a wry smile. "Too bad she's dead. Or I could've killed her, too."

Blake was shaking with ghostly fury. "Minnie is gone, as am I, and we are together. But this is beyond madness and I'll not watch a covetous a.s.s like you kill again. If you touch Alexi, I'll...somehow, sir, I will see you dead!" he announced.

Needless to say, there was no response from Hank.

"Blake, it doesn't work like that," Alexi said. "He can't hear you. Or see you."

"Stop that! There's no one here," Hank insisted.

"Blake is here, with Minnie," Alexi said. "He wants to kill you. Believe me, he's here," she told Hank. She kept playing, and her fingers moved smoothly on the keys as she switched into a Billy Joel number. "Blake and Minnie!" she said. "You know the history of this s.h.i.+p, Hank. It's filled with ghosts."

It was; that much was true.

And another ghost had just arrived. Byron Grant.

"Hank, I see someone else coming, someone you met-briefly. Very briefly. He never sailed on this s.h.i.+p alive. You dumped his body in an alley. You killed the love of his life before slicing him to shreds. His name is Byron Grant, and he's joining us now."

Byron Grant was there. He walked over to Hank, slamming a fist into his jaw.

Hank jumped as if he'd felt something.

"Stop it, stop it now!" Hank roared. "You're going to die, Alexi. You can join your precious ghosts here on the Destiny. Ghosts! Alexi, you're a liar."

"I'm not a liar, and you know it. You may not see the dead or speak to them the way I can, Hank, but you feel them. I know you can feel them. Byron just slugged you. I saw you jump when it happened. The ghosts are all here-and they really hate you."

She'd definitely said the wrong thing.

He started to move; before she could jump up and clear her bench, he came around the piano at an unG.o.dly speed.

She made it to her feet, but he caught her by the arm. She twisted around, staring into his eyes. "Kill me, then, Hank. I hope they put you up on federal charges. I hope you rot to death in solitary, eating prison food. No more riches for you, Hank. No fine food, no music. No piano bars. Not where you'll be. I promise you that... Oh!"

She suddenly stopped speaking-and her furious rant ended on one startled breath.

She was looking down the hall.

Hank was looking at her, his back to the hall.

And saw what he did not, what he couldn't see. Someone was coming quickly down the hallway...running, even floating, and he was almost at the Algiers Saloon.

A soldier. A ghost soldier, who led a living man.

Alexi gasped, so shocked by the image that she was heedless of the serial killer who held her in his grip. The Archangel, who stood ready with his b.l.o.o.d.y knife to end her days.

The soldier wasn't from World War II. She'd never seen him on the Destiny before.

But she knew him. She knew him with everything in her heart and soul.

Zach.

She whispered his name. "My G.o.d," she breathed. "Zach. Zach..."

"Stop it!" Hank bellowed. But he didn't bring the knife down on her. He spun her around, dragging her roughly so he could see down the hallway, see what she saw.

And then Alexi heard a voice. The voice of a living man.

"Osprey, let her go. Let her go now. I have a gun on you, and I will take you down without blinking."

Jude.

He stood just outside the realm of the yellow-glowing auxiliary lights, staring at her, his expression hard and strained.

And strong, she thought. Strong enough to risk danger. And strong enough to admit when he was vulnerable, how he lived with pain...

And to admit that he hadn't wanted to see the dead-and yet he was strong enough to know the truth in his heart.

Like Zach. Willing to fight for what he believed in. Even if that fight took his life.

They stood together, the two men she loved, and she had to wonder if she'd soon be joining the dead herself. Or staying among the living...

"McCoy!" Hank suddenly raged. His anger and his jerking movement drove the blade closer to Alexi's throat. Against her skin.

It was sharp, so sharp. She didn't know if he'd drawn blood yet.

And then she felt it...a trickle down her throat.

She thought Jude was going to fire, but Zach put a hand on his arm in time to stop him.

He would have to have perfect aim. If not, he risked hitting Alexi.

"Where the h.e.l.l are you, Jude McCoy? Show yourself-and bulls.h.i.+t you have a gun," Hank shouted. He dragged Alexi to the right and then the left, his movements so fevered that he sent the ghosts of Blake and Minnie back several inches.

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d!" Minnie exclaimed angrily.

Hank jerked again, as if he could hear a distant whisper of her word.

Jude came walking out of the shadows, absurdly calm-and definitely holding a gun.

"You can't have a gun," Hank said. "You're on a s.h.i.+p. Even if you're an executive. Security would have stopped you." He seemed to be smiling, and his hold on Alexi eased just a fraction. "The world is full of terrorists and murderers, you know. And homegrown crazies of all kinds."

Jude seemed exceptionally, absurdly, calm. He shook his head. "Osprey, for a so-called genius, you're not that impressive. You haven't figured out what several others on this s.h.i.+p got pretty quickly. I'm FBI, Hank, and we followed you onto this s.h.i.+p, and yes, I'm armed. I'm carrying this gun legally. Actually, we need a chance to talk, so it may be a good thing that we're at a standstill right now. I need to know about the security officers."

Hank laughed softly. "What do you need to know?"

"Where they are, Hank, the security guards you killed? We've a.s.sumed, of course, that you threw their bodies into the ocean."

"Well, of course. But prove something like that! It's a big ocean. And I can't tell you how ridiculously easy it was to get them out on deck, even in the storm. I mean, I'm Hank Osprey. I come up to a security man begging for help and the idiot follows me like a puppy-right over the guardrail and into the drink. They didn't matter. They weren't important."

"But Flora Winters. No medallion, but you still left her in the chapel?"

"She could've had a medallion, I suppose. I just didn't have one for her. The medallions were special, anyway-intended for certain people. Flora was...well, she was a traitor. She would've gotten the name of Tony Ca.s.s when she talked to her husband's accountant. In fact, I'm afraid she might already have known. Or guessed. She certainly asked me enough questions that weren't any of her business. Tony, unfortunately, died in a hit-and-run car accident. How sad," he said with mock sorrow. "Still, I felt it was best to see her meet up with her husband. I do admit I couldn't quite throw her overboard. I should have, though."