With a flourish, Will left the makeshift stage. Abby dutifully let out the scream of distress, which brought the pirates to action, Scurvy Pete accusing Blue of being less than a man and a blot on the rugged truth of piracy. Blue, in turn, ridiculed Scurvy Pete, telling him he was due to swing from a yardarm, that he wasn’t just a blot on piracy but a blot on the entire human race.
Abby could see that the rest of the Krewe who were in Savannah were scattered through the crowd. They were there because their suspects were there, except for Dirk, who was out on the Black Swan. Dirk was not alone, although he undoubtedly thought he was. A plainclothes policeman was on board; Abby knew that Jackson and Malachi both believed they were drawing close to a resolution and that everyone needed to be watched.
“You fool! I will have your captive, and I will return the lass as I see fit!” Paul told Roger. “You will fall beneath my steel!”
“One day I’ll fall, but I will fall to the law on the high seas and not to the likes of you, Scurvy Pete!” Roger said. “I will go with my ship—and not with the dregs of the sea!”
“To the death, Blue Anderson! To the death!” Paul bellowed, and the two began to thrust and parry with their swords, to the delight of the crowd.
Abby screamed appropriately—like a girl—and fell back. Will Chan came to slip his arms around her and help her from the stage so the sword battle could continue.
The two men were very good at what they did. The crowd grew, with everyone entranced. Finally, Blue caught Scurvy Pete with a fatal blow.
Paul died, emoting dramatically. Will took to the stage again to do a follow-up, and then the crowd broke into applause.
Abby was immediately besieged by a number of children in the audience. She posed for pictures with them and answered what questions she could about Savannah and piracy.
She looked up at one point, aware that she was being watched. Malachi had been waiting for her to notice him.
She made her way through the crowd to approach him.
“I’m heading to the station. They’ve just brought Aldous in,” he said quietly.
She felt her heart sink. “All right. I’ll join you there soon.”
“Don’t worry. Jackson and I will question him. David will go in and out. We’ll find out where he’s hiding Bianca.”
“You’re sure it’s him?” she asked.
“No, but the evidence points to him.”
“Do they have anything definitive?”
Malachi nodded. “DNA on the scarf I found on his yacht,” he told her.
“DNA?”
“From tears,” Malachi said. “The scarf was around the eyes of Felicia Shepherd at some point before she was killed. They were able to extract DNA and it matched Felicia’s.”
*
Malachi had to hand it to Aldous. When he’d first been brought in, accused of the murder, he’d been belligerent and angry. Then he’d look incredulous.
Now, he looked scared.
“You want to take it for a few minutes?” Jackson asked Malachi, who’d been observing the interrogation. “David thinks we can handle this better than he can.”
“Sure.”
Malachi walked into the room. Aldous Brentwood raised his head; he was pale. His bald head gleamed in the bright light overhead, his gold earring glittering.
“You,” Aldous muttered. He shook his head as if in disgust.
“Aldous, you shouldn’t be aggravated with me. I didn’t want to think you could be guilty of something like this.”
“I’m not!”
“One of your rowboats was found out on the river. Forensic teams are going over it now. I believe we’re going to find some organic matter that will prove the boat was used to dump the bodies of those who were killed.”
Aldous leaned toward him. “I’m not stupid, Agent Gordon. You can’t prove I ever had that rowboat. I own the ship, yeah, but I don’t work on it.”
“I’m not an agent,” Malachi told him. “Just a consultant.”
“Consult yourself out of here. My attorney is going to make mincemeat out of all of you.” Aldous sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’ve got nothing on me. Does Abby know you’ve brought me here?”
“She knows. And, Aldous, I’m afraid we have more on you than that.”
“What? That I go to the Dragonslayer? That I was friends with Gus?” He shook his head. “You’d have to arrest half the city.”
“Didn’t they tell you what this is?” Malachi asked. A pirate scarf—the one he’d found half under the bunk in the yacht’s master cabin—was on the table between them, carefully folded in a plastic bag.
“It’s a scarf in a plastic bag.”
“Your scarf,” Malachi said. He watched the man intently for his reaction. Aldous Brentwood didn’t appear to be anything other than perplexed.
“I don’t buy those stupid tourist scarves!” he said.
“But you did. This one was found on your yacht.”
“What? It was not! I let the police search my yacht. I’ve cooperated since this whole thing began. I am not guilty of anything! Hell, what’s the matter with you? I’d never have hurt Helen. I was crazy about Helen. Am crazy about her.”
“Maybe you liked her too much.”