“That I might consider, but I’m getting senses from things that certainly aren’t—like a rock or a bush or the tigers or Hutch,” Gideon elaborated. “The rock and the bush, maybe something had rubbed off on them, but certainly, the tigers and Hutch didn’t suddenly gain some kind of power in the last twenty-four hours.”
“Do you think the tigers had something to do with this?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Gideon shook his head. “There’s something strange about this town. Maybe that’s making the tigers act crazy.”
“There is something dark here,” Mom said.
Gideon stood up, startling both my mom and me. “And it’s about time I got to the bottom of it.”
“Where are you going?” Mom asked.
“To see Leonid Murphy.”
15. blue moon
For the second day in a row, I found myself in Gideon’s beat-up truck on the short ride from our campsite at the carnival on the outskirts of town to Caudry town proper. This time, Luka had been enlisted to join us, and I sat between him and Gideon.
Whenever Gideon went to deal with someone who might be trouble—like a vendor who refused to pay us our dues or an unsavory biker gang that kept messing with Roxie and Carrie at the peep show—he brought along Seth and Luka with him. Seth because he was so strong, and Luka because he healed so quickly, he could handle just about anything.
While I knew I wouldn’t be much of a replacement for Seth, I wanted to help. Truthfully, I think Gideon let me tag along on the off chance that I sensed something he missed, that I could pick up things like my mom did.
We drove through Caudry until we reached the other side, driving on a wide road lined with cypresses and willows until we reached a building nestled right up against the swamp. The porch out front looked like it had seen better days, but the fresh coat of navy blue paint and new windows suggested that it was in the process of being fixed up.
Along the top was a sign that looked brand-new, and the words Blue Moon Bar & Grill were written in big bold letters next to a painting of a crescent moon.
“This is it?” I asked as Gideon parked in front of it.
“This is a restaurant,” Luka said, pointing out the obvious. “Leonid can’t live here.”
“Well, this is the address he gave me.” Gideon picked up the tattered postcard from the dashboard.
The front showed an alligator, its mouth wide open and ready to snap down and take a bite. The back had Leonid’s chicken scratch, promising us riches if we came to Caudry. He tapped the address Leonid had scrawled on it—867 Brawley Boulevard, and the numbers on the side of the building were printed clearly as 867.
“He told me to look him up when I came into town,” Gideon added.
“I guess we should check it out, then,” I said, since there didn’t seem to be any other way to find Leonid, and he was our only real connection to this town.
A sign on the window had the word CLOSED in bold red letters, but that didn’t stop Gideon. He gave the door a good tug and it opened, so we went inside.
The place was dark, dimly lit by a few bulbs over the bar, and it appeared about the same as it had on the outside—newer tables and vintage artwork in shiny frames, but the floors were gray and warped. The bar in the back had a marble countertop, but the stools in front were worn and faded. The whole place felt as if it was in mid-renovation.
The swinging doors to the kitchen pushed open and a man came through, holding a dishrag in his hands. He was tall, with a full head of thick wavy hair sprinkled with hints of silver. His skin was the color of dark caramel, and the lines around his eyes and mouth suggested he was in his early forties.
“We’re closed,” he said, and his voiced rumbled with a strong Latino accent. “We open at four on Sundays, so if you come back in two hours, I’ll be happy to seat you.”
“Thank you, but we’re not here to eat,” Gideon explained. “We’re looking for a friend.”
The man had been walking toward us, but he stopped and tilted his head. “Someone who works here?”
“I don’t know, actually. This is the address he gave me.” Gideon gestured to the restaurant. “He’s called Leonid Murphy.”
“Leonid?” An odd smile spread out across the man’s face. “There’s a small apartment just above the bar, and Leonid rents it from us. If you go around to the south side, you’ll find a staircase alongside the building that leads up to it.”
“Thank you.” Gideon offered him a small wave, and we started making our exit.
“Are you with the carnival, then?” the man called after us, stopping us just before we reached the door.
Gideon paused for a moment, then turned back to face him. “Yeah, I’m Gideon Davorin. I run it, actually.” He motioned to me, then Luka. “This is Mara Beznik, and Luka Zají?ek. They work there too.”
“I’m Julian Alvarado.” He put his hand to his chest, and my mind instantly flashed to Gabe. His name was Alvarado, and in a town this size, I had to wonder if they were related. “This is my place.