Breed Read online

  Jenny shrugged. “It’s hard to tell with that kind. Maybe something scared him off. Maybe he’s only into watching women take showers, or just gets his jollys by sneaking into people’s apartments.” She took a sip of coffee. “I think you had better tell me everything that happened. Then we can decide if you need to go to the police.”

  She told Jenny about all the strange things that had happened at her apartment. She also told her about the weird encounter she had earlier at the Huguenot Cemetery.

  “Osiyo,” Jenny said aloud, pronouncing the word slowly. “That’s what you heard someone say at the cemetery?”

  “That’s the word. It’s the same thing that was written on my mirror. Do you know what it means?”

  Jenny shook her head. “Never heard it before. It sounds more like letters than a word. Maybe it’s an abbreviation of some kind. It might stand for Official State Idiot Police Organization.”

  “That’s OSIPO. The word I heard and saw was ‘osiyo’”.

  “Sorry.” Jenny smiled. “I got a speeding ticket last week and cops have been on my mind.”

  “You’re not helping,” laughed Ssabra.

  “Sure I am. At least your hands aren’t shaking anymore.”

  Ssabra looked down, and saw that her hands no longer shook. She hadn’t realized her shakes had stopped, nor was she aware they had been bad enough for her friend to notice.

  “Okay,” Jenny continued, trying to figure out what had happened at the apartment. “You said that you heard someone talking at the Huguenot earlier this evening. They spoke to you, but they only said one word. You also smelled pipe tobacco at the cemetery.

  “And tonight, while you were taking a shower, someone turned off the lights in your bathroom. At least you think someone turned off the lights, but they might have turned off because the switch wasn’t all the way up. When you got out of the shower you discovered that you apartment was freezing, and then someone wrote a word on your bathroom mirror. Is that it?”

  Ssabra nodded. “That’s it.”

  “Then I think I know what’s going on.”

  “Tell me, then.”

  Jenny fumbled a pack of cigarettes out of her purse, double-checked to make sure that they were sitting in the smoking section, then lit the cigarette. “I think a man must have followed you home from the cemetery. That’s where you heard the word ‘osiyo’ and first smelled the pipe tobacco. Right?”

  Ssabra nodded again.

  “Okay. So someone must have been hiding in the cemetery. Maybe he was sneaking around the place. Or maybe he was hiding there, hoping to scare one of the ghost tours when it came along. It was probably just a drunk. There’s an Irish pub across the street, so maybe he had a few too many beers and decided to play a game. Only there weren’t any more tour groups, there was just you. He thought he was going to scare you, but you didn’t scare. Maybe this guy thought you were cute.”

  Jenny winked. “I mean, you probably do look kind of cute after a couple of six packs.”

  “Bite me,” Ssabra retaliated.

  Jenny laughed, amused at her own humor. “So he waits for you to go down the street, then follows you.”

  “But how did he follow me when I got into my car?” Ssabra asked, pointing out an obvious flaw in Jenny’s theory. “Tell me that. If he followed me out of the cemetery, then he was on foot. My car was parked back by the tour office, a good six blocks away. If he followed me to my car, then he couldn’t have followed me once I drove away.”

  “Not unless his car was parked near yours.”

  “And what are the odds of that?”

  “It’s a small town. Pretty good odds, I would say. There’s a public parking lot just down the street. Maybe this guy had his car parked there, and decided to continue the chase. That late at night there isn’t much traffic on the back streets, even on a Saturday night. It would have been easy for him to jump into his car and chase after you.”

  “That doesn’t explain how he got into my apartment. I had the door double-locked.”

  "Did you set the chain and deadbolt as soon as you got home, or did you wait until you started your shower?”

  Ssabra thought about it a moment. “I’m not sure; I think I set them as soon as I got home.”

  “But you’re not sure. Maybe you didn’t set them right away, and maybe he picked the lock when you were undressing in the bedroom. Then maybe he hid in the closet, or in the kitchen while you stepped into the shower.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes.”

  “Yes, it is,” Jenny agreed. “But that would explain a few things.”

  “It wouldn’t explain how letters formed on my bathroom mirror while I was standing there looking at it.”

  “I think I also have that figured out,” Jenny said, obviously proud of herself. “Do you have a makeup mirror on you? If so, give it to me.”

  Ssabra dug into her purse, bringing out a round powder case with mirror. “Going to powder your nose?”

  “No. Just watch.” Jenny opened the case, then rubbed her fingertip across the mirror. She handed the compact back to Ssabra. “What do you see?”

  “I see you smeared my mirror.”

  “Exactly. My fingertip left an oily streak across the glass.”

  “And this means what to me?”

  “Maybe your intruder did the same thing to your bathroom mirror. While you were in the bedroom, getting ready to take a shower, he went into the bathroom and wrote on the mirror with his fingertips. He then hid while you climbed in the shower. Once you were in the shower he turned the air conditioner up on high. He also flipped off the lights. He might have left right after that, which is why you didn’t see anyone.

  “The room was cold, and the shower was hot, which caused condensation to form on the mirror. But the condensation didn’t adhere to where he drew the letters with his fingertips, because of the oils from his skin. That’s why it looked like letters were forming before your eyes.”

  Ssabra looked at her friend, then blinked. “What have you been doing, watching the Discovery Channel?”

  Jenny laughed. “Actually, I’m a big fan of Mr. Wizard.”

  “So, what do we do now?” Ssabra asked.

  “If you’re not going to call the police, then I think we need to go back to your apartment to make sure no one is there.”

  “Forget it. No way. I’m not going back there. Not tonight. I’ll sleep at a motel, or in my car.”

  “Relax. I didn’t say you had to spend the night there. You can spend the night at my place. I said we should go check out your apartment, make sure that your intruder is really gone.”

  “What if he’s not? It would be dangerous to go back there, even with the two of us.”

  “Not as dangerous as you think.” Jenny set her purse on the table and opened it, then tilted the purse so Ssabra could see the contents. Something shiny caught the light. It was a small pistol.”

  “What’s that?” Ssabra asked, surprised.

  “It’s a .32 revolver. A gift from my father. He gave it to me when I moved out on my own.”

  Ssabra looked around nervously. “Jeez, girl. Do you have a license to carry that thing?”

  Jenny closed her purse. “No. Not yet. I was going to get one, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet. You have to take a course before you can get a gun permit, and I just haven’t had the time.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of the police catching you with that?”

  “No. Not really. Most cops aren’t going to search through your purse, not unless you’ve done something wrong. Besides, I know how to make a cop completely forget about the contents of my purse.” Jenny unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse, showing off her cleavage. She smiled. “This works every time.”

  Ssabra laughed. “You really are a slut. Showing your boobs didn’t keep you from getting a speeding ticket.”

  “That was a woman cop. I might have had a chance if she was a dike, but she was married.” Jenny buttoned up her blouse. “Le
t’s get out of here. Maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll catch this creep still in your apartment. I’ve always wanted to shoot my gun.”

  Ssabra was horrified. “You mean you haven’t even fired it yet?”

  “I haven’t had the chance. I was going to shoot it, but I’ve been really busy lately.”

  “How long have you been carrying that thing?”

  “Almost ten years.”

  Ssabra couldn’t believe her friend. “Do you even have bullets for it?”

  “Of course I do.” Jenny frowned. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “No comment.”

  They paid their bill and left the restaurant. Jenny had her car in the parking lot, so Ssabra rode back to the apartment with her. Although she felt better having a friend with her, she was still nervous when they pulled into the complex. What if the intruder was still there, hiding somewhere in her apartment? Even though Jenny had a handgun, they could still be putting themselves in great danger by entering the apartment. Maybe she should have called the police.

  Locking the car, they entered the building and walked up the stairs to the second floor. Ssabra started to take her keys out of her purse, but Jenny stopped her.

  “What?”

  Jenny put a finger to her lips, shushing her. “Shhhh...be quiet for a minute.” She put her ear to Ssabra’s front door, listening for any sounds of movement from the other side. After a few moments she stepped away from the door.

  “I don’t hear anything, so I think he’s gone.” She pulled the pistol from her purse, striking a pose that was almost comical. It reminded Ssabra of something from a television cop show. “Okay, open it. But let me go in first.”

  “I’m really starting to worry about you.” Ssabra found her keys and stepped forward to open the door. Unlocking the door, she pushed it open and stepped back to allow Jenny to enter the apartment.

  If she hadn’t still been a little frightened, she would have laughed as she watched Jenny move from one room to the other, gun held outstretched in both hands before her, looking like a real bad imitation of an old Charlie’s Angels episode.

  The two of them searched the entire apartment, but didn’t find an intruder. Nor did they find any evidence that one had been there earlier. Nothing had been taken or disturbed and there was no lingering odor of tobacco smoke. Ssabra turned the air conditioner back on and it seemed to working normally again.

  Jenny put the pistol back into her purse, and plopped down on the sofa. “Well, there’s nobody here. If you had an intruder, he’s long gone.”

  Ssabra double-checked the bathroom to make sure no one was hiding in the shower. She also looked at the mirror, but there weren’t any words written on it. “I guess you’re right,” she said, stepping back out into the living room. “Maybe I just imagined the whole thing.”

  “Maybe,” Jenny nodded. She lit up a cigarette and blew smoke at the ceiling. “If you ask me, I think you’ve given one too many ghost tour. I think you’re starting to believe all that stuff you tell the tourists.” She smiled. “Then again, you spend an awful lot of time at the cemeteries. Maybe one of the local spirits followed you home.”

  “You know I don’t have much belief in the spirit world,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’ve given hundreds of ghost tours, and I have yet to see a single spirit. Besides, ghosts don’t usually write on bathroom mirrors.”

  “Maybe you have a literary ghost. A regular Edgar Allan Boo.”

  Ssabra laughed at the joke, then turned to look around the room. “Listen, if you don’t mind, I’m going to accept your offer to stay the night at your house. I’m still pretty creeped out about everything, and I don’t want to be here alone. Not tonight. I’ll come back tomorrow, in the daylight, when things don’t seem quite so scary.”

  “You’re welcome to stay at my place as long as you want.” Jenny smiled. “It will be nice to have a roommate, even if it’s only temporary. Go ahead and grab your things. If you’ve got any wine, then grab that too. We’ll have ourselves a little party.”

  “The wine’s in the fridge. There should be an unopened bottle in the back. Help yourself. I’m going to get my things together.” Ssabra left her friend in the living room, and went in to the bedroom to pack her overnight bag with the items she would need to spend the night at Jenny’s. She also grabbed her makeup case, and a change of clothing, just in case she didn’t make it back to her apartment before going to work.

  She looked around her bedroom to see if she had forgotten anything. Though there was no evidence that an intruder had been inside her apartment, something strange had happened. She felt violated; her peace of mind had been stolen, and that was something she might never get back. As she turned off the light and left the bedroom, Ssabra wondered if she would ever feel comfortable in her apartment again.

  Chapter 8

  Despite having his day off interrupted, Detective Jack Colvin got to work early the following morning. He was hoping to start his Sunday with a cup of coffee, and a few moments of peace and quiet, but he was handed a copy of a vandalism report as soon as he got to his desk. He started to hand the report back to the officer who had given it to him, citing that he was a homicide detective and did not investigate acts of vandalism, but then he noticed a name on the report that caught his attention. Nodding to the officer, Jack read through the report carefully.

  The report had come in early that morning, filed by a city employee named Curtis Everette. According to the report, someone had again broken into the Tolomato Cemetery during the night. The city worker had found the chain cut and the gates standing wide open while making the rounds that morning.

  Mr. Everette had signed his name to the bottom of the report, after stating that nothing, other than the gates, appeared to have been disturbed at the cemetery. He had also put two phone numbers on the report, one for the office of the City of St. Augustine Pubic Works Department, where he worked. The other number was for his personal cell phone.

  Jack looked at his watch and thought about calling the office number, but figured that Mr. Everette might still be out riding around in his truck. City workers knew to stay away from the office during the day, especially those who pulled weekend duty, less their boss find some additional work to keep them busy.

  Thinking that the recent act of vandalism at the Tolomato Cemetery might somehow be connected with his homicide investigation, he decided to call the number listed for Curtis Everette’s cell phone. Dialing the number, he listened as the cell phone rang four times. He thought he was going to get a message service, and was surprised when someone finally answered.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” a voice answered, the person on the other end obviously fumbling with the cell phone.

  The detective smiled. He knew how difficult it could be to talk on a cell phone while driving, especially when turning or driving in heavy traffic. It was a wonder there weren’t more accidents because of the portable phones.

  “Mr. Everette?” Jack said, speaking louder than he normally would. Some cell phones were notorious for having bad reception.

  “Yeah, I’m Curtis Everette. Who’s this? And how did you get this number?”

  His smile grew wider. “You gave me your number. This is Detective Jack Colvin, St. Augustine Police Department. I’m calling about the report you filled out.”

  “Yes, sir, detective.” The voice on the phone changed, became a little less harsh and a tad bit more respectful. It was amazing how people often changed their tone of voice when they found out they were talking to the cops.

  “You reported that you found the gates of the Tolomato Cemetery standing open this morning.”

  “Yes, sir, I did. Found them that way when I was making my rounds.”

  “Was the chain cut, or had someone picked the lock?”

  “Neither one,” Curtis replied. “The chain was broken.”

  “Broken?”

  “Yes, sir. Broken. The metal was stretched, as if someone pried the links apart.”

&nb
sp; “I see.” Jack jotted down a few notes on a yellow pad of paper. “Are the gates still open, or did you lock them back up?”

  “I locked them. I got a new chain from the maintenance shed.”

  “What did you do with the old chain?”

  “It’s still in the back of my truck. Why?”

  “Just asking. Would it be possible to see that chain?”

  There was a pause. “I guess so, but I don’t know what good it would do you. It’s just a chain.”

  “It probably won’t do any good at all,” Jack replied. “But I have to follow up with the report you made. Paperwork and all that. Got to keep the boss happy.”

  There was a laugh. “I know what you mean.”

  “Would it be possible for me to meet you somewhere to take that broken chain off of your hands?”

  “When?”

  “How about now?”

  Again there was a pause. “Sure, it’s possible. But I have to clear it with my supervisor first. I was on my way to a job. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Tell you what, I’ll make a phone call and clear it with your boss. Meet me at the Tolomato. I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

  “You’ve got it, Detective. I’ll see you in fifteen.”

  Jack said good-bye to Curtis Everette, then called the number for the City of St. Augustine Public Works Department. After a few minutes of being passed from one person to another, he was finally able to get the supervisor on the line. He explained that he would be pulling Mr. Curtis off his job for a few minutes to aid in a police investigation, promising he would send the man back to work as soon as possible. The supervisor told him to take his time, citing that they would send someone else to do the job.

  Hanging up the phone, the detective grabbed his notebook and jacket and left the office. Since it was Sunday morning, traffic was still fairly light and it only took him ten minutes to reach the Tolomato Cemetery. Pulling into the parking lot adjacent to the Old Drugstore, which was separated from the cemetery by a metal fence, he spotted a white pickup waiting for him. The pickup sported the official seal of St. Augustine on its door; a thin, gray-haired black man was sitting in the cab reading a newspaper.