*
An hour later, the corpse was in an ambulance bound for the morgue, crime scene techs were scouring the water and the embankment, and police divers had been dispatched to see if any evidence might remain in the water. Shaken, Dirk had canceled his afternoon and evening pirate cruises, rescheduling or refunding the money of those who’d bought tickets. Abby sat with Malachi Gordon—who had cast off all vestiges of a costume—at a desk in police headquarters.
She liked Malachi’s former partner from the get-go.
David Caswell’s desk was surrounded by others. There was a fair amount of activity at the station. A hooker was arguing with her arresting officer and two other cops were trying to deal with a junkie on a bad trip.
David had arrived at the dock soon after the initial response team had cordoned off the area and plucked Malachi and the corpse from the water. About six-one, sandy-haired, green-eyed, he was serious without being somber, smart and probing without being aggressive or demanding. Abby thought he had to be in his early thirties. He spoke with a slow, smooth Southern accent that matched his steadfast but easy manner.
Maybe he didn’t have to be demanding; he knew he’d get a straight story from Malachi, no matter what the story—and there really wasn’t much of it.
“Your statements are being typed up. You can sign them and get out of here for now,” Caswell told them. “I figure you want to attend the autopsy?” he asked Malachi.
Malachi, hands clasped in front of him, nodded.
“It’ll be scheduled for later today. I’ll call you when I know the exact time. Before I let you go, can we run through what happened? Ms. Anderson...” He paused, looking at Abby, and smiled. “Or is it Agent Anderson?”
She smiled. “I just realized it is. Agent Anderson. I am official. But please call me Abby.”
“Okay, Abby. So you were working on your friend’s pirate boat because his usual actress is the young lady reported as missing. Helen Long.” He studied her. It wasn’t that costumes and pageantry didn’t abound in Savannah. But it could also be a very conservative, old Southern city. She was hardly dressed as a respectable young local in her plumed hat, frock coat, breeches and boots.
“Yes, I was being his wench for today. He’s very upset. Dirk is a great employer. He provides sleeping space when his people need it. He takes on part-time help so his employees can go to school if they choose. He really cares about Helen,” Abby said.
“But...he couldn’t say that the girl we found in the water was Helen, right?”
“No. I couldn’t tell you, either,” Abby added. “And I knew her. I’d met her several times,” she said. “I don’t think it was Helen. But I can’t be sure. The body...” Her voice trailed off. She had to be better about things like this; she’d been through an autopsy, for God’s sake. She’d passed the academy with flying colors.
“Hey,” Malachi said, looking over at her. “No matter how long you chase the bad guys, death can still tear you up. And if you get to where it doesn’t...then you need to reassess what you’re doing.”
“Yeah, thanks,” she said huskily.
“So you were working on the ship, the ship came back in to berth, you were walking down the dock and you just happened to stop and see the body,” Caswell said.
“I was behind her. I’d called out to her,” Malachi explained. “It was while we were standing there talking that Abby saw the body and...”
“And you dove in,” Caswell finished.
Malachi raised his hands. “We could only see her from the top. She was facedown, but the pirate ship and some small boats had just come in, so—I doubted it—but...she might have been alive. Better to try than to find out you might have saved someone.”
“Always,” David murmured. “Now...this may change things,” he said, leaning toward them. “The powers that be wanted to handle the situation on their own, but now with another murder...I think they’ll ask for federal help, if you want to give the right people a heads-up.”
Malachi nodded in acknowledgment. “Anything else you can tell us?”
“When you sign the statements, I’ll give you a copy of the notes I’ve compiled. Then do me a favor and get out of here. I don’t want any resentment if we do go official—or if we don’t. You know how cops can be—I don’t want them to think the feds were snooping around before they were asked in. Some officers take it to mean they’re being judged, that they weren’t considered competent at their jobs and therefore the federal government had to step in. It’s not conducive to constructive work and everyone does need to work together.”