“What is it about Bazin?”
Hunter thought, “He’s still. Very still.”
“Like somebody quiet?”
“No.”
“I’m not following you. How do you mean?”
“When you’re around him, he’s like a piece of wood, or maybe a mannequin. It’s like he’s not breathing, like his heart isn’t beating, that kind of stillness.”
“Like death?”
Hunter nodded as she thought about what John said. “I know he’s not, but yes.”
“That would get my attention.”
“It sure got mine. Funny thing, when he does move, Bazin is smooth, like a big cat. I guess I thought he would be stiff.”
“Like Frankenstein, or a zombie.”
“Like that.”
John said, “Our coroner, Handley Armand, is from Haiti. He might be able to give us the name of someone who could help you with things like their customs, history, that stuff. I can check with him, maybe arrange a meeting if you want, just let me know.”
“It can’t hurt. Andre was born here, but lived in Haiti while his parents worked at the U.S. Embassy. They came back stateside when Andre was nine or ten. Sounds like Handley’s source may have more insight. Thanks for the offer.”
They left at midnight and John dropped Hunter at her hotel. When he got home and turned on the lights, John noticed faint discolorations about shoulder high, all along the hallway wall. He felt depression dropping on his shoulders like a heavy coat.
They were his wife’s bloodstains, where the killer trailed his red hand along the hallway. Now it was bleeding through the paint and showing in faint, long streaks. John thought that when he painted over the walls with Killz, it would hide them. But like an old, bitter memory, they were back to remind him of the day a man murdered his wife and child in this home. He sighed, feeling like he weighed a thousand pounds, and went to the garage for more paint.
Two hours later, he finished with the second coat. John washed the brushes in the sink, then got out the bottle of Jack Daniels and an old-fashioned crystal tumbler with two cubes of ice and poured it to the rim. He sat on the couch. Taking a breath was an effort. Loss and terrible guilt filled his mind. He knew that some nightmares would never stop coming to visit. John took a long swallow and sighed.
~*~
Hunter couldn’t stop thinking about Bazin, and the psychic, Ariel Baimby. There was something about her. Hunter didn’t believe in such things, but she was puzzled about how Ariel knew which way the man went. Beyond that, how did she know Hunter was after him when he left his table? She was sure it was a con or scheme of some kind, but just what she didn’t have a clue. Hunter felt the woman knew more than she said at the time. I’ll call her tomorrow, she thought, and arrange a little more one on one time.
Hunter showered and crawled into bed, tired, but in a good way. She fell asleep in minutes.
Hunter woke before sunrise and had enough time for a run, so she put on her shorts, sleeveless shirt and running shoes then drank a glass of water and went out the door. It was cool but sticky from the humidity. The low clouds glowed orange from the city lights, and the distant roar of passenger jets leaving Lauderdale airport sounded like far off thunder. Hunter decided to run along the Intracoastal Waterway since it was by the Residence Inn where she stayed.
Stretching out her steps and increasing her pace, Hunter felt good enough to maintain a pace of six minutes per mile and still have time to look at all the boats, ships, yachts, and nautical sights along the waterway and marinas. Sweat came easily in the humidity, and her muscles felt loose and warm. Her lungs filled and emptied like large bellows. Three miles later, she made a small circle and started back to the hotel at the same pace.
When she made the last turn to the Residence Inn, Hunter slowed to a cool down walk. And there was Ariel Baimby.
Ariel sat on the grass, with her back against the trunk of a young palm tree. She stood, brushing grass clippings from her bottom.
Hunter said, “How did you know I was here?” She was uneasy.
Ariel said, “Not so hard. I’m not stalking, but I need to tell you what happened last night. I’m worried, and I felt like I could talk to you.”
Hunter studied her for a few seconds, then said, “Come on.” She led Ariel to her room and pointed to a chair as she took the sofa. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Ariel said, “Last night I couldn’t sleep. I watched television, cleaned my kitchen, anything to try and become sleepy. At two in the morning, I went to my window to look outside.” She stopped talking and looked at Hunter.
Hunter said, “What?”
“Ringo Bazin was standing there, looking up at my apartment, and at me.”