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She tugged on her arm. He didn’t let go, instead reaching his free hand beneath his voluminous coat and withdrawing a gun.
“I do not have the patience or the time to argue with you.”
He released her but kept the gun right where it was,
pointed at her sternum. His coat had caught on what appeared to be a bandolier of bullets strung across his chest. Kris could just make out another pistol stuffed into the loose waistband of his pants.
Who was this guy?
“The authorities will be back directly,” he continued, “and I’d prefer not to be here when they arrive.”
Rubbing her elbow, which would probably bear the imprint of his claw-like digits come the morning, Kris glanced at the corpse, then at the gun, then at him. “I bet you would.”
His bushy white brows lifted. “You think I killed her?” He shook his head. “She drowned, poor thing.”
“Drowning doesn’t preclude your killing her.”
His lips curved. “True. However, I did not.”
“I’m just supposed to believe you?”
He shrugged. “It is up to you. But you will learn that many have drowned here of late. I’m afraid more will follow.”
Kris frowned at the loch. “Is there some kind of undertow? A heavy kelp growth tangling in swimmers’ legs or boat propellers?”
“No boats have sunk; none are even missing. This is not a place for swimming, and the drownings, they are not accidental.”
The man was very good at saying murder without actually saying it.
“Why haven’t I heard about this?” Kris asked.
“Tourist town,” he said. “They do not like to broadcast such things.”
Kris could see where a serial killer might put a damper on the revenue.
“This girl is only the second to be found.” He jerked his head at the water, which had become completely obscured by the mist. “But there are more out there. Many more.”
“If you didn’t kill them, then how do you know that?”
“When people start to disappear, I am the man they tell.”
“Who’s ‘they’? No, wait!” The better question was: “Who the hell are you?”
He did that half bow again, which seemed much less polite with the gun still in his hand. “Edward Mandenauer.”
Maybe that hadn’t been the better question. She didn’t know him from Adam. So she reiterated the first.
“Who’s ‘they’? Why do they tell you?”
“Perhaps tell was not the right word.” He frowned. “Sometimes my English is still not vollkommen.” A growl of annoyance rumbled in his throat. “Perfect.”
Kris thought his English was damn perfect and he knew exactly what he was saying—and not saying.
“I have connections.” He rolled the barrel of the gun in a tiny circle. “Good ones. When people disappear, I hear of it. I come to the area, or send someone, and we discover what is making them go…” He lifted his free hand, fingers touching the thumb; then he released them toward the sky. “Poof.”
“Poof,” Kris repeated.
“Or…” He stared pointedly at the dead girl. “Not poof.”
