Part One - The Crustacean Moon
The claws pull sins under sands ever shifting or towards the waters of the bays or the sea. It is their purpose in all to hide, to disintegrate that which a man has done. The moon reveals and remembers and makes a man scuttle in the shadows all his days.
Anonymous Gravestone Chesapeake Bay
The Kid
It wasn’t like he thought it would be. First of all, it was very loud and busy. And then suddenly quiet. There had been a family at the desk filling out a report with everyone helping with the details. The names, who saw what. And arguing about what was seen by whom. And spelling everything correctly. He could hear it was an assault, so the desk duty Officer had to take it seriously.
Then the family left and the officer was busy writing and filing and left for a while. He came back and nodded.
He felt his wooden legs propel him toward the desk. He stood and the officer looked at him.
“Yes sir?”
He swallowed and the first word caught. “I want to confess to a murder.” The officer stared at him for a moment. Sizing up the young, scrawny wisp of a kid.
“Sir. Of a person?” No response.” While I can take down the information this station is really not the place…Hold one.”
He waited. He rubbed his wrists where he had anticipated the cuffs were to go. Finally, another older officer came out and waved him over to an office. He had to walk through a security door and the rotund officer patted him down nonchalantly, half smiling at him the whole time. He motioned for him to sit across from him.
The smell of stale coffee and bleach caused him to sweat for some reason. Was this the smell of prison? Prior confessions?
“Sir,” the officer said. “This isn’t like TV. There are no cameras as you can see. There is nobody else coming to tag team you. You are free to go right now if you wish. This is just between you and me.”
He reddened suddenly. He thinks I am a nut case. Maybe I am. But I know what I know.
“I know I probably don’t look like…”
“Let me tell you: One- There is no way a murderer looks like you and Two- you look a kid who watches too many shows or video games, whatever…except for the khakis. Jeez, what kid wears khakis? Maybe the belt. Where’d you get that? Lemma see that thing. That a crab or something. That is a bit weird. And the lack of a single tattoo. And I don’t think you even shave yet.” He at appraising the kid who held his gaze but was noticeably sweating.
“Okay, enough fooling around. I am Detective Rubenstein, and I have, usually, the least exciting job in the world. On account that nothing usually goes on here. I handle 187s and 207s and 207As. Murder, kidnap and attempted. I am fifty-five years old and will retire…” looking at watch…” in 118 hours. Lay it on me.”
The kid shifted in his seat. He noticed the detective had even left the door open.
“Okay. I dumped the body…”
“Jesus, like I said…”
“In the field at the edge of the woods and the road, Simpson Road. “
“Okay, now you have my attention.” Still no notepad. “When, where, what city?”
No answer, shifting.
“Okay, kid, if you are going to play this charade, give me one clue. Then I can haul you in and your mother can cry herself to sleep. You do have a mother? She should be here damn it. I am treading on thin ice a bit here.”
“Yes, sir. It may have been, it was over a treasure that was found.”
Laughing, “Okay kid, that is good. Is this for as school project? Okay, pass. Tell them that I arrested you. There is no Simpson Road around here. I know every street. I have a bit of a photogenic memory.” He waited to see if the Kid would laugh and then nodded at the door.
“Get out of here. Go get a girlfriend. Get something. Go steal something from somebody…” laughing…” I’m sorry. Don’t do that. Stay out of trouble. You look like a smart kid. See you later, kid.”
He got up sheepishly and the Detective stopped him.
“What is that on your belt?” He touched the buckle which looked old and odd.
“Jesus. Never mind. Get out of here.” He nodded at the desk officer who escorted him out. The Detective went back to his desk.
Now 117 hours, he thought.
He looked up at his wall and stood up suddenly causing the rolling chair to bang on a file cabinet behind him. He took several awards and some Thank You letters down and behind them was a cheaply framed newspaper article. It was tilted inside from decayed glue.
“Treasure and Murderer Vanish. New Detective First Case Bad Luck.”
He ran outside and looked both ways. Nobody.
“Jesus how could I forget to get his name.” The desk Office looked at him.
“Everything alight, Dave?”
"Though your beginning was insignificant, yet your end will increase greatly.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Just old Bible school…or Chinese fortune cookie…” He went to the security office and ran back the video of the young man. No car. No bike.
But the kid wasn’t even born yet then. Even so, his Detective sense told him maybe he knew something.
“Never look a gift clue in the mouth,” his mentor had told him, four decades ago.
Vanished. Just for kicks he printed out a grainy picture of his face from the front desk video camera.
He went back to his office and sat there. The next shift came on and no one bothered him. Everybody knew he could be moody.
106.
The Flea Market
The parking lot was half full. All the early birds came right before opening to find the “good stuff”. He parked the car next to a sports car.
Can’t fit anything in that.
This is when he missed her-his wife of thirty-four years-would have been thirty-four years last year. She would know exactly where to go to find the good stuff. And bargaining down was her forte. Anyone, even the tough guys who pretended to not care. She would walk away and then-“OK, hey…”
He got out and surveyed. Usually, the expensive stuff was in the front and things they wouldn’t look for-furniture pieces, crafted pieces-usually in the hundreds. She would steer ahead towards the middle and back sections. And search for the treasures hidden among the huge amount of non-special things, kitchen things, pictures, postcards, tin bowls, lamps, garden tools, scissors, broken navigation equipment from fishing boats, homemade art pieces, ships in bottles, old cans, WW2 memorabilia. She had an eye for it. He didn’t. Picking out one or two, three things that came home and became part of their life. Like she recognized them. “Everything else is junk”- she would say. The good pieces called to her.
Sometimes she would find him stuck at a booth and looking at an item.
“Nope,” she’d say-“It may be a hundred-year-old murder weapon but not coming with us.”
He liked to look at the people, too. One time he found a guy the Department had been looking for for over a year and convinced him to come in for an interview. It had helped to close a five-year-old case. He had been a good witness.
But mostly he had just looked at people and watched his wife pick out the good stuff, eat something if there was something good, and then go home.
Now, without her, but still feeling like she was still with him, he was looking at an old canon, bending down and peering inside, and then kneeling to get a closer look when he spotted him-the Kid!
He sprung up a little too fast and nearly knocked over an elderly couple looking at a pile of old magazines. He caught the man by the elbow and steadied him and then looked again. He couldn’t spot the Kid, but he walked quickly in the direction. He had noted the booth and went to it. Gone. He looked both ways.
And then, a tap on the shoulder. Startled he turned. It was him. The Kid. He looked kind of out of place, preppy, not rough and tumble like most of the kids in town.
He was with a small, grey-blonde,squinting woman who peered at him like the sun was burning her eyes-which it wasn’t. It was a bit overcast.
“Hey, kid. How are you. And, hello. Is this your mother?” More peering. The kid nodded. He was embarrassed.
“Ma, this is the Detective. “
“The one who wouldn’t take your case.” Not a question.
“Nice to meet you, misses…”
“Fleishman, Marvin’s mother. “
Marvin Fleishman—definitely not a killer.
“It’s okay, mom. “
“Plenty of clues all around, if you look hard,” she said, waving her hand. She walked a bit away and stared at a large stuffed bear, much worn.
“There are no bears in Maryland, now. There used to be, oh sure, she said.” The detective looked at the kid.
“Hey…Marvin. I wanted to talk to you about something…” Marvin’s mother pulled him away.
“We gotta get going.”
“Ok ,Ma.”
“Hey kid, let me take you out to chowder tomorrow, Earl & Eds- noon. You know the place?” He nodded.
What am I doing? Mary gone, retiring in couple of days. He saw them walk away. The kid much taller. She looked side to side and then took a quick glance behind. Squinty but sort of piercing eyes. Weird.
He walked to a booth with lots of silver looking bowls and plates and took out a small magnet. It stuck to everything except one soup bowl looking thing. He held it up.
“Two dollars.” He paid. He wasn’t good at the talking down part.
He almost felt a pat and heard-“It’s okay, Dave. You got a good piece.”
Alyssa Rose
She took the escalator up and walked close to the railing. A security guard walked by.
He does not look like he could stop anything or even prevent anything. He isn’t looking around, he even has a bit of a paunch. How sad.
When she talked like that to friends, they squished their faces and then turned away to chatter over high school gossip, clothes, boys.
“Maybe you should go into law enforcement,” her best friend had suggested, sincerely she thought. She hadn’t decided what she wanted to do. She liked to shoot but she didn’t go out of her way to do it. Just when a random boyfriend had taken her to the range once. She was good at it.
She walked along the railing and looked down at the area where parents brought kids to ride those motorized animals. Elephants, bears, tigers. Parents driving looked happier than the kids! There was an area for parents to sit and supervise the smaller kinds playing with building blocks. The chairs faced directly towards Victorias Secret and huge photos of models barely dressed and very suggestive. Looking at it from above made her think the world could be a strange, contradictory place. The juxtaposition just wasn’t right.
And she found find herself now, as usual, scanning an area and checking people and checking exits. What if something did happen? And then she looked at a store with good sales with clothes she liked, sort of preppy, beachy, survival, but sexy.
She was there to meet a guy, not her friends. He was an odd duck but smart and he had said something interesting in English Class that had stopped even her talkative teacher from responding. She sort of collected odd ducks. And he wore preppy clothes and was shy. When she asked him to meet her, he had said-Which library! She was already feeling that pre-crush thing. She felt weird telling him “the Mall” but he still agreed.
“One thirty Sunday?” Marvin had nodded and walked away.
What had he said in class? It had already seemed to go away. When they met that was the first thing she would ask.
It was early to the meeting, but she had to pee and wanted to go back to the preppy store. She had her mom’s credit card. Her mom was always surprised at how little she spent. She was great at sales and wrangling impossible multiple discounts.
She rounded the corner to the hall where the bathrooms were. There was a sign on a stand out front of the Women’s Room. Cleaning or repairing. She didn’t want to go all the way back to Macys. She bypassed the sign and went in. There was a large cart and some cleaning stuff but no sign of anyone. In the stall she heard water and steps. Finished, she got up and went to wash her hands.
Something went around her head and mouth. Tightly. She ripped at it and tried to turn but couldn’t. It smelled really good and she thought she was dreaming and stopped fighting. For some reason her last thought was of the crabs she had seen when she was young sitting at the bay with Dad. Then they were scurrying about. Now they all seemed to coming to get her and there was nothing she could do.
The Mother
93
Alyssa Rose’ mother was frantic. Detective Rubenstein was called in because he was good with cases like this. Not the missing person, per se, but the parent or parents of the nearly one-hundred percent runaways.
She was in what he called Stage Two. She had cried all night, slept little, and was blaming herself.
“I should have gone with her,” she said, sobbing tiredly. He handed her more tissue. Lorelei, the deputy on duty had made her some tea and she had nibbled on a machine tuna sandwich.
“Don’t blame yourself,” the Detective said, wondering how many times he had said the same thing. Only one, two, maybe three cases he should have said-’”Really, you should blame yourself for letting your daughter go out with a biker, drug dealer, twenty-years her senior”. But he didn’t. The self-inflicted pain and regret were far worse than anything he could do.
“You say she was meeting someone at the Mall?” he said, pulling up closer to her. Almost but not where his knees touched hers but his face would be close, concerned but not overwhelming or challenging. Gentle. This technique he used and taught to other detectives seemed to bring the parent more quickly to Stage Three. His mentor, Detective Sal Russo, had invented it and he had perfected it.
He had named it-“Providing Valuable Information”.
“Listen very carefully and make sure they really answer every question. Write everything down,” Rubenstein had told the many informal classes he taught. And, he had seen guys he had taught years ago use his techniques and even refer to a little notebook with notes from his training.
“Yes, I called her best friend Mandy and she didn’t know who he was. She said he was someone who caught her fancy, I know that is an old-fashioned word, in Alyssa’s English Class.” She blew her nose and Lorelei brought her more tea. She seemed to be relaxing.
The detective nodded and waited. He realized he had never taught this next part, but he would write it down and give it to Clemmons and Davidson before he left. Funny how simple it was.
It was-“Don’t Say Anything. Wait for It”. He paused, concerned look.
“Mandy said it was a preppy guy. She remembered because Alyssa always likes the outsiders, not the townies.”
The Detective pulled away gently and smiled. He patted her on the shoulder.
What a coincidence, he thought to himself.
“Lorelie, come on in and get any information you can on Alyssa’s friends, classmates. You know the drill.”
“Yes, sir. “Lorelei came in and sat next to Mrs Rose and the Detective stood up.
“Did I help you, Detective Rubenstein?” she asked.
“Any information is important, yes, thank you, Mrs. Rose.” But he already had the “It”.
He would go find Marvin Fleishman. The preppy kid.
It fit right along with-“Despite the TV and Movies, No One Looks Like a Murderer or Kidnapper”. That was a tricky one. Sal had said he had blown that one bad, hence the self-transfer years ago from New York.
Marvin Fleishman
After meeting with the Detective at Earls and Eds, he took a long walk on the beach where when the tide was out there were lots of rocks and sea debris. He had followed his mother’s advice.
“Police don’t want to be told the answer. It’s too simple. They need to play the game, enjoy the hunt. And they don’t believe what the Indians and others took for granted.” Plus, she warned him, worse than jail was going to the psychs and their “hospitals”. “Worse than hell,” she had told him.
“You tell him what you know and even if it can still be proven, they’ll take the credit and lock you away.”
So, when Detective Rubenstein asked him about why he had come in to “confess”, he made up a story about a class project about how police deal with people who come in to confess. He didn’t sell it very well.
And the Detective’s question had rattled him.
““The Treasure and the Murderer” was my first case and not my best. I still have the newspaper article on my wall. You touched a nerve son. Plus, the crab belt. I remember something about…”
Marvin had reddened when the Detective said it out loud. He should have gone to another station but then Detective Rubenstein would have been notified.
And then he had asked about his belt. He had of course hid it again after the Detective had focused in on it. It by itself didn’t prove anything. But it had clues. And clues now, Marvin had realized were dangerous. He had already stirred up another who remembered, too, and his face followed him around like the moon that had lit it up years ago.
Murder is sometimes justified, he thought. Is that what a real murder thinks?
“What was that kid?” the Detective had asked. Marvin knew he had to be careful.
“Oh, sorry, sometimes I mumble. Thanks for the lunch. I gotta meet someone .” The kid stood up, bumping into a waitress who looked at him and shook her head.
“Okay, you got it.” See you around. He had never had a son and seeing the Kid realized maybe that was a good thing. Solving crimes was tough but not impossible if done methodically but your own kid. Whoosh!
“He yours?” she asked the Detective. They both shook their head.
After meeting the detective at Earls and Eds, Marvin decided to leave the Mall before they would meet. He wasn’t sure why Alyssa had asked him to meet. All he had said in class was-“The author was saying it is impossible to disintegrate sin, but it makes for great literature to try.”
Alyssa had looked over at him, like, he wasn’t even sure, but it made him feel warm, flushed, embarrassed, important. And the teacher had just stopped. And then the period was over.
No one there knew what he, Marvin, knew. He remembered everything. There was no escape.
So he went to book store and left the Mall through Sears, towards his house and then to the water for a long walk.
Where sea and crabs and debris and gulls and men’s spirits were free to be themselves. Tortured or not.
But he did not know the future when the Detective would pound on his door and startle his mother and the parrot and the cat and bring him down to the station again. This time for a crime he did not do or remember.
And it scared him.
A Real Interview
87
Marvin sat with his mother and a very seedy looking man wearing a suit that looked like he had been buried in it. The lids of his eyes made it hard to see if he was seeing anything or awake. Lawyers. Where are they made? The Detective thought. A profession of words not actions. Slants, tricks and angles not facts, proof.
But he had to be there.
Detective: “This is Detective Rubenstein Chesapeake Station 54 on April 27th, 1974 with Mrs Angelina Fleishman and son Marvin Fleishman and Attorney”..pause while he found the dirty card the lawyer had presented… “Stanley Grossman, regarding the abduction of Alyssa Rose. Security film shows Marvin Fleishman in the Harbor Mall Sunday April 26th at approximately twelve-fifty-four and Alyssa Rose entering at twelve-thirty. Alyssa Rose and Marvin Fleishman are not seen leaving the Mall. But cameras in the back show a man putting a cart in a van and leaving at ten-twenty-two am.”
Marvin Fleishman: “…I had lunch with you at Earl and Eds …”
Detective: “Thank you Mr. Fleishman. We are trying to establish the timeline here, that is all.”
Mrs. Fleishman: “This is bullshit and you know it. You guys always haul in us from the other side of the tracks…”
Marvin: “It’s okay, Mom.”
Mrs. Fleishman: “Stanley, speak up. Say something.”
Stanley Grossman: “I, I…is there a charge here for this young man, Detective?”
Detective: “Okay, lets settle down. How about I turn off the recorder and we just talk. That work? Let it be noted that all have agreed to talk.”
Detective Rubenstein “turned off the recorder”, pretended to nod through the one-way glass of the Interview Room.
“Anyone hungry? Thirsty? Okay, let me order some sandwiches and drinks. He stood up and walked out.
Because of Marvin’s age and intelligence and the mix bag of mother and “lawyer” he had used his favorite old trick. The Interview-Non Interview.
It got the parties worried, thinking and willing to talk. And because of lack of staff, he played bad-guy-good-guy solo.
There were no coincidences in crime. And criminals often confessed, although Marvin had come in before the abduction and confessed to a different crime. But it still fit. All he had to do was ask a few questions, feed them and Wait and Listen.
Two hours later, after Lawyer Grossman had used the bathroom five times, Mrs. Fleishman told the story of her last three generations in Maryland and Marvin saying that he taken a long walk instead of going to the Mall-the Detective stood up, stretched. Mr. Grossman also smelled bad so it was time for fresh air.
“Okay, Everybody. Let’s take a breather.” He walked out of the room and headed to his boss’ office. On the way Detective Clemmons came up to him.
“How many?” he asked Detective Rubenstein.
“How many what?”
“Hours left?”
“Oh yeah, I may have bitten no something here…Well, I got a pretty good idea…the Kid is the one. But what an odd bunch, really.” Detective Rubenstein hated to sound so indecisive, but his time was winding down.
“Want some help? I know they got four guys looking for the girl. No luck yet. Dog gotta trace at the loading dock and then nothing. That the kid there?” Detective Clemmons watched as Marvin sheepishly came out of the mens room, zipping his zipper as an afterthought.
“Yup. Not much to look at but we’ve had stranger. Remember Alpine Spitz the phony gay German guy who raped those girls? Even had a phony boyfriend.”
“Sure do. Well, from what I am reading on your report, he had lunch with you and then went to kidnap her? Pretty cool to have everything prepped like that. Can he even drive a van?”
“Shit. I am off on a wild goose chase. The Kid had lunch with me said he went to the Mall to get a book, paid cash for the book, then took a long walk. Ms. Rose disappeared around twelve-fifty, one-ten.”
“Well, I can take a crack….” They were interrupted by the Boss, Sergeant Daniels.
“Detectives, our film guys found the kid, the suspect walking through Sears which has a long blank area where there is no camera, but he comes out into Sears, through the appliance area and out the automotive department. On the way in the direction to his house. Like he said. To take a long walk. It isn’t him, this Marvin fella. We have our guys looking at everybody else that came in.”
Detective Rubenstein went back to the Room.
“Okay, everybody, Marvin has been cleared. Tape shows him going through Sears leaving.”
“Stanley, can we sue these people for intimidation, wrongful treatment of a minor? Stanley! Wake up!”
Stanley “looked” up at the Detective and grabbed what was left of his sandwich.
“Glad I didn’t have to pay him. He owes me back rent for one of my rentals. Jeezuz. And Marvin tells me here you are retiring. Good!”
Detective Rubenstein let her leave and then went up to Marvin.
“Marvin, I am sorry. Missing female cases are treated very seriously and every lead has to be followed.”
Marvin looked up and nodded.
“I know. It is important. She is important. And I saw her mother. She looks awful.”
Detective Rubenstein thought Marvin was about to cry.
“I hope you find her.”
They walked out of the Room and Detective Rubenstein steered him out the front.
His mother was waiting in an old Dodge pick-up that had several obvious fix-it violations. He ignored those and asked Marvin.
“Hey, not really important here but what book did you buy at the Mall. Just curious.” Marvin got into the belching beast.
“Crustacean Moon”. They drove off. The Detective stared after them for some minutes.
84
Devon Schriever
Devon Schriever had just sort of “shown up” in the town Kilmarnock. The high school had been waiting for a grades report from his supposed prior high school. A school which when checked didn’t exist. When they went to interview his mother at the address the school had, it was a boarded-up storage shed attached to boarded up boat repair place.
Detective Rubenstein and Clemmons had found a van and the K9 indicated a hit on it. It was behind the boarded-up repair shop. And it had a non-descript janitorial cart in it.
The break was that Devon Schriever had gotten a janitorial job with the Mall. And used his name on the contract. And Devon Schriever had been in Alyssa Rose’s English and Math class. And Devon Schriever had no friends and intimidated everybody, including Louis Zarmino, the wrestling coach.
“There was something about him,” almost everyone had said.
“He’d make a good wrestler,” Mr. Zarminio had told Detective Rubenstein.
Who had said-“Too late for that now.”
The problem was they had no idea what Devon Schriever wanted with Alyssa except what normally happened in the bigger cities. Torture, rape, murder. But this was in Lancaster County.
So, they shook their heads. And tried to keep Mrs. Rose optimistic with what information they had. She stayed next to the phone with a fold-up table in front of her with pictures of Alyssa, her yearbooks and diaries which she had refused to open until Officer Lorelei told her it was okay, it may help, Alyssa would forgive you for prying. Mrs. Rose’s sister had practically moved in to help with meals and try to keep her calm. Mr. Rose was had died years ago when he had been out fishing the bay and never returned. Two tragedies were turning Mrs. Rose into an even older woman.
Detective Rubenstein came back to the station. He had brought back a seafood Burger from Lee’s and was just about to take a bite. The intercom on his desk rang.
“They’re back,” Lorelei said.
“Who’s back?”
“The kid Marvin and his mother.” Detective Rubenstein looked at the glass in front of him. Someone had written – 77- in lipstick on the glass. Time was ticking. He took two bog bites of the sandwich and a drink of ice-tea.
“Send them back.” What do they want.
They both sat down across from Detective Rubenstein. Mrs. Fleishman was calmer, glancing at her son, looking down.
“My son, Marvin, has something to tell you.” Here we go again. “No, for real. He wants to help you even though you accused him of doing that thing to that poor girl. Go ahead, Marvin. Tell him.”
Detective Rubenstein started to think that maybe these two were part of some big prank that was being played on him before he retired. Or-Sal’s voice-“Wait and Listen”. Okay, Sal.
“Ok, kid. Marvin. I am all ears.”
Marvin turned nervously in his chair. “She was, I was. I was supposed to meet her at the Mall.”
“Okay, now be specific since this may or may not be important but it depends on who “her” is.”
“Alyssa. Alyssa Rose. She wanted to meet me at the Mall.”
“You? For what?”
“We go to the same class, English class. Mr. Symington’s Literature and Fiction. She wanted to talk about…something.”
“Why you and why the Mall?”
“I know. I told her, the Library but she sort of laughed and said the Mall. She had stuff to do there I guess.”
“Is he in trouble, for planning to meet her to the Mall where she got…you know.?” Marvin’s mother asked.
Detective Rubenstein eyed the rest of his sandwich and saw it visibly get cooler.
“No, no. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
“Mr. Grossman said only to answer what was asked.” There we go. Lawyers.
“I got it. Well, thanks for coming down. Appreciate it.” He started to get up and then – “Marvin, did you know this Devon kid? He is our best suspect now as I am sure you have heard. You went to same class as Alyssa. Notice anything about him?”
Marvin looked down. “I don’t really know him…”
“But?”
“But…”
“Tell him Marvin. You aren’t in trouble.”
“But, I remember him…”
“You remember him, from when you were younger?”
Marvin looked right at the Detective. “No, from earlier than that. It is hard to explain but..” Here we go. Whee.
“Try Tangier Island, Dump Road. He thinks he can find it there and he think she knows where it is. But she doesn’t.”
“Where what is?” the Detective asked. He could feel his blood pressure rising. He was about ready to toss them out.
But Marvin was still looking at him. And so was Sal. Shhh.
“And I saw him with a boat once.”
“What kind of boat?” the Detective asked. Maybe this was going somewhere in the world of real facts.
“Some outboard with cabin. I don’t know boats that well.”
“Okay, thanks Marvin. We will check it out. Mind reading doesn’t really work for this kind of investigation but if you spoke to Devon and he told you this, that would be something.” The Detective waited. Nothing. It was either the lawyer telling Marvin to not talk or Sal’s voice again-“Go with your gut. You got plenty.”
“Okay, thanks for coming in.” He buzzed Lorelei and she came to get them.
Damn it!
Marvin stood up. He knew Devon. Just not from now. And he knew Devon was coming for him.
Tangier Island
66
Detective Rubenstein and Clemmons arrived before it was dark on Tangier Island. The Coast Gard was no help. The assets were “tied up”. They had gone down to Boast basin to Jimmy’s, a sport boat rental place and rented a twin 75 horsepower Mercury with Clemmons’ credit card. The chief had said he would cover the cost if it all turned out good.
Luckily, it wasn’t too choppy. Detective Rubenstein started to feel seasick and Clemmons told him to push the boat with his legs like he causing the motion.
“Push down!” he yelled. Surprisingly it worked.
They brought two guns, some ammo, binoculars and rope and handcuffs.. And a complete medical kit.
They landed on Tangier North Channel docks and Detective Rubinstein flashed his badge impatiently when a woman came down the dock at them yelling at them –“That’s Ernies space. He’ll be back in an hour or two.”
“Where is Dump Road,” Clemmons yelled at her. She pointed. There was a dirt road that lead to it.
They secured the boat and hustled away with the equipment. Both of them stopped when they got to what they thought was Dump Road and caught their breath. The futility of what they were actually trying to do washed away their enthusiasm.
“Shit, we are here. I hope that kid is right or we are going to look like fools,” Clemmons said. They walked toward a shack going past either abandoned or “resting” boats on their sides in the sand and dirt and grass.
Behind the shack was a landing area where it looked to Detective Rubenstein like large boats could come and load up. Hence Dump Road. Garbage from an island had to go somewhere.
The shack was locked. There were notices on it, old tattered, weather beaten but there was a newer trashcan out front with trash. Detective Clemmons said-“I’ll dig into this shit.”
Detective Rubenstein nodded and walked around the shack. There was a rusted twenty-foot sea container in the back off to the side of the ramp where trucks would back up to dump garbage into the barges.
He walked around the container. The sun had gone down so he took out a flashlight and his gun. He heard the sound of trash, bottles, cans, stuff as Clemmons spread out the contents of the can.
Next, everything happened fast. Clemmons yelled-“Kilmarnock High School!”
Rubenstein yelled something, more like a sound than words, when he heard a groan or a cry through the walls of the container.
Clemmons ran over, his flashlight waving and bobbing. Then a shot!
Rubenstein pushed open the door to the container and then closed it behind him. He played his light on the figure on the floor. It was a girl, a young woman. The air smelled like urine. The girl moaned. Rubenstein waited. He heard steps near the container and he turned off the flashlight.
“Sir?” he heard. He didn’t totally recognize the voice or trust himself with being sure that it wasn’t Devon after shooting his friend.
“Dave?” he heard again. He turned on the flashlight and yelled out-“She’s in here. Alive but…”
“Sorry, I accidentally…I need to get some more training…” Clemmons said.
The rest of the night was a blur. They untied her wrists and legs, and both lifted her out of the container. They covered her with their jackets. She didn’t look hurt but dehydrated. And dazed.
Clemmons ran down to the docks and called for local help which turned out to be a volunteer Ambulance Corpsman who took her and them to a nurse’s house. There was no medical facility on the island.
The Maryland State police were notified but after they talked to Mrs. Rose, they arranged for Alyssa to be helicoptered to Rappahannock General.
The medevac copter landed on the airfield near Dump Road and took her away. Nurses would examine her there for any possible sexual assault and other detectives would collect what evidence they could.
The detectives sat down at a café that had stayed open with all the excitement and fed them big bowls of chowder and fish burgers with some special pickle sauce. And lots of coffee.
They were both quiet, but something was gnawing at Rubenstein. Something buried by the impossible save that they had accomplished from the thinnest lead he had ever acted on.
A phone rang and the waitress who was thrilled to be there with them handed Detective Rubenstein the phone. He looked at it and what had been gnawing at him flooded in.
“Yes, sir. Sergeant Daniels. We will scour the island for Devon. Yes, sir, and collect evidence, yes sir.”
Damn. The had forgotten about Devon Schriever, the friggin perp, after Clemmons had stumbled and accidentally fired a shot. He had been so relieved it wasn’t Devon and that Alyssa was alive, the basic detective work had just gone poof! Maybe it really was time to retire.
“Yes, sir. We will be on it all night.” They kept eating and then started to laugh.
“Man, for heroes we really fucked up. I guess we’ll be on duty til the guys show up in the AM,” Detective Rubenstein said to Clemmons.
“I think he is gone. Long gone,” Clemmons said with a big bite of pie in his mouth. Clemmons, after a few years of service had developed the valuable sense of “hunch”. It was usually right.
“Me, too. But we don’t know. We need to check things out. Shit, we don’t even have a photo of him to show anybody.” Sal-“Time is a-wasting, boys.”
A man and woman walked into the café.
“You the Detectives?” the man said, arms of his waist.
“Yes, yes, we are,” Clemmons mumbled.
“Well, I am Ernie, and you took my spot.”
The detectives looked at each other, tipped the waitress, stood up and got their gear.
First things first. They were on their island after all
60
Mrs Fleishman
Marvin’s mother watched her boy study. It was what kept his mind off of things.
Mrs. Rose had called at about ten that night and told them that Alyssa had been found. She had thanked Marvin but Mrs. Fleishman hadn’t said anything, except-“Well, I hope they can see each other at school soon.” And hung up.
She had gone out to the porch and listened to the water slapping the land. Marvin came up behind her.
Simpson Cove. Their little slice of heaven and hell.
“I am sorry to be a burden, Mom.”
“You are everything a mother would want, my dear.”
They waited. It was inky dark. They sat on the two porch chairs and listened.
They heard the sound of a boat coming closer and closer. Then the engine cut.
“Should I…?”
“No, we both wait here. If he makes it then…” she showed him the revolver that normally was at her bedside table.
The nearest house was about an eighth of a mile away around a curve in the shoreline.
And then, a yell, a scream, and the scuttling sounds of thousands of hungry claws, an army impossible to escape from and paralyzing with horror.
When it was quiet-“Go down in the morning and find something to give the Detective, a sneaker, something. To end it for him at least. Your confession was a bit premature after all, son.” It could be a hard business, time and its loops. What comes first or after.
They sat there for a bit longer.
She looked over at him. He was her treasure.
And he now could claim his treasure even if it meant losing him little by little. A young man has to become a man.
Despite being cursed. Knowing the past. The future.
And worst of all- the present.
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