Robert Walker - Darkest Instinct

Quincey pushed Anderson in a good-natured way, saying, “That’s right, side with her.”

“ Well, she’s a damn sight prettier than you!”

Jessica, Quince and Captain Anderson now eased into a harbor and boat slip in downtown Naples, a sign proclaiming the slip for the express use of the harbor patrol only. Captain Anderson had warned they might have problems docking here and that he was concerned, as fines were measured out in the hundreds of dollars at a city-owned harbor, telling Jessica and Quince that the harbormaster would rent out as much space as possible to make a buck under the table, cutting corners when it came to holding open slips for Coast Guard and police vehicles. “At the moment, this is a police vehicle-undercover,” Quince assured his friend. “Commandeered, as they say.”

“ That mean I don’t get paid, pal?”

“ Not to worry. Your check’ll come from Miami-Dade as soon as I get back and make out the voucher.”

“ Six to nine months after the voucher, you mean.”

Jessica piped up with, “Maybe with the FBI putting a little juice on it, we can do better this time, Captain.”

Elliot Anderson grimly looked in Jessica’s direction but only found her raising a disparaging shrug and saying, “We’ll see you’re reimbursed for your time and effort here, Captain, my promise.”

As they entered an empty slip-which appeared to be the only one open, just as Anderson had warned-a stubby little man with a clipboard came racing out to them, waving them off and shouting, “Can’t you damned fools read?” The little mustached man reminded Jessica of the gatekeeper in the Wizard of Oz, and he didn’t look above a bribe. Captain Anderson chose the Naples municipal harbor as perfectly suited to their needs, for City Hall and the main branch of the Naples Police Department were within view and walking distance. After securing the boat, Jessica said to Anderson as he was about to alight from the boat, “Captain, please bring your navigational chart, the one you used to get us here, and the map and overlay you created which shows the movements of the killer since discovery of the first body by Coudriet in-”

“ You can take them,” he replied, “but I’ll need replacements.”

“ Replace them while you’re in port here. I’ll reimburse you on the receipts.”

“ Fine.”

“ But I want you to come with Quince and me to show our associates your chart. It’s of great importance.”

“ You want me inside a police station? Don’t know if I’d feel comfortable, Doctor, much as I’d like to help…“Damnit, Elliot,” bawled Quincey. “It’s not like we’re asking you to step into a war camp. It’s just a big office, and you’re not under arrest.”

“ Just a big office, huh? With rooms in the basement with lots of bars-and not the kind of bars I like to frequent.” The man reminded Jessica of Jimmy Buffet as he scrunched up his face and nose, considering his options a moment until he saw Jessica’s pleading eyes.

“ Just long enough to explain the maps to my partner,” she asked.

“ All right… anyone ever say no to you, Dr. Coran?”

“ Sometimes, sure.”

“ Stronger men than I…”

Jessica now took note of the beautiful setting and lush greenery here. The city was alabaster-white, almost all the buildings bright pastels or whitewash with exotic-looking orange- and red-tiled roofs in old Spanish style. Moss hung like strange garlands around ancient trees, giving them the appearance of alien Christmas trees. These ancient oaks and poplars lined wide streets, and palm-lined avenues-corridors to the city-were clean and inviting. From here she could see that the business, historical and government districts all shared the stage along the same spacious avenues. There were no skyscrapers here, the tallest of buildings perhaps ten stories, and these were rare-hospitals and banks. Like many or most Florida towns, Naples maintained a small-town atmosphere where parks along the waterways were filled to capacity with boaters and picnicking families, the children flying kites, chasing dogs and Frisbees and climbing up and down the town gazebo.

All in all, it was an elegant little city, the kind of place found only in dreams, the kind of place where evil died of loneliness, the kind of place where fear, ignorance, rage, prejudice, pestilence and poverty never entered-or rather hid very well amid the scarcity of shadow; still, it appeared the kind of place where only gentleness, kindness and light- heartedness could thrive, the kind of place lost in America’s past and found now only in imagination, the kind of place where people were lulled into believing that peace and safety and brotherhood and sisterhood and tranquillity and an unlocked door could actually exist on the planet. The little city by the emerald Gulf seemed quite out of keeping with the Night Crawler’s usual teeming haunts.

On their walk toward the expensively laid-out grounds of the police station here-a sure sign that all was not well in this little jeweled city-Jessica thought of the allusions in the Night Crawler’s poetry to stage and theater. She now voiced her thoughts to Quincey. “This doesn’t exactly look the perfect stage for the Night Crawler to crawl out on to strut his stuff.”

Quincey cleared his throat and thoughtfully replied, “Well, there’re areas, especially along the outer islands and north of here, that are teeming with nightclubs and nightlife.”

Elliot Anderson added, “If your guy’s here, the bastard’s most likely just casually trawling these waters while on his way to a larger arena…

” Jessica’s step slowed. “A larger arena?”

“ A major metropolis, like Miami,” Quincey filled in. n“ Tampa-St. Pete, I believe,” said Anderson. Quincey agreed instantly.

Jessica sadly agreed as well. “I guess you’re both right on one score.”

“ He needs a big kettle,” Anderson finished for her.

She nodded. “He feeds on the anonymity afforded by a large city.” Quincey quickly added, “Every predator needs a jungle.”

She added. “And every predator’s jungle must conceal him.”

At police headquarters, Jessica had no trouble locating Eriq once she and Quincey found Mark Samernow nursing a cup of coffee and a gone-cold gyro. Although it was not quite 11 a.m., Samernow explained that he and Chief Santiva had been up all night with a character who might or might not have a line on the Night Crawler, a fellow who may’ve harbored the killer for a time. They’d just finished up with a lie detector test on him.

Jessica followed Samernow and Quince to the interrogation room, along the way locating the ready room where Elliot Anderson could set up his maps.

Quincey joked with Samernow, ribbing him about the news accounts they’d been hearing out on the Gulf. “So, I hear you collared a dead guy, Mark?”

Samernow’s ears reddened and Jessica could only imagine the scowl on his face, unable as she was to actually see the gaunt man’s features as he kept walking.

Quince dug the knife in deeper and twisted it by repeating what he’d said as if Mark hadn’t heard. “Heard you collared a dead guy?” He just couldn’t resist.

Samernow didn’t miss a beat this round. “You try it sometime. Hardest collar I ever got. Bitchin’ paperwork, and when we tried to stand him before the judge, well, all hell broke loose,” recounted Samernow, in rare form. Seeing his daughter had obviously helped his disposition.

“ Yeah,” Jessica teased Mark now, her smile growing. “Heard you brought in an Austrian?”

“ Cops here are gung-ho to bring in the Crawler. Can you blame them? They’ve never had a chance to make Top Cops or Unsolved, so they’re working overtime at it. Can’t say that’s the worst attitude they might’ve taken. So, how’d you guys do down south? How’d it go in Key Largo and Matecumbe, and why’d it take so damned long to get here?”