Sand City Murders

Sand City Murders by MK Alexander

Book: Sand City Murders by MK Alexander Read Free Book Online
Authors: MK Alexander
of things I’d rather forget.”
    Inspector Fynn paused for a moment. “And tell me, you often experience this feeling of deja vu?”
    “That’s kind of an odd question.” But he was right. I just did at that exact second.
    “Indulge me, please.”
    “Well, to be honest, probably every day of my life, at least—”
    “Very interesting,” the inspector cut me off.
    “Why is that interesting?”
    “The wrong word perhaps… but unusual, yes?”
    “I guess… Not sure I like it all that much.”
    “Why is that?”
    “I don’t know, it’s um, an odd feeling, unsettling, I guess.”
    “And when you sleep… do you recall your dreams in the morning?”
    “Pretty much. I keep a journal— takes me ten minutes every day just to write them all down.” I looked at him hard. “These are strange questions.”
    “I apologize. I have no wish to make you uncomfortable. But I will say, I believe you to be a very rare individual, very rare indeed.”
    I wasn’t at all sure what he was getting at. The best way to Sunset Park was left on Court Street and onto Captain’s Way for about a mile. A right on North Bayview and up another couple of miles to the bluffs. There was no official parking up there, though the road was a bit wider at the top of the hill where local residents would pull off. In the summer, there were no cars permitted at all. It was a park to walk to, or take your bike.
    “Tell me, how much of our meeting yesterday do you remember?”
    “What?” I replied as we turned onto Captain’s Way. My head was swimming.
    “Our meeting yesterday with your Chief Arantez and Detective Durbin,” he said blandly.
    I swiveled in my seat and tried to get a better look at Fynn. He seemed to be grinning now. “Wait. You remember that? How? You were there?”
    “I was.”
    Confused is not the right word, neither is astonished. Maybe bewildered came closer. Oddly though, I felt a certain anger, as if I were the brunt of some joke that everybody got but me. I dove down deep to find words. “Listen inspector, ever since you showed up, a lot of weird stuff has been going on.”
    “Since I showed up?”
    “Well yeah.”
    “Perhaps strange events have always taken place, but you are only now noticing them.”
    “Okay, have it your way.”
    “You might say your perception of these events has altered since my arrival.”
    “Fair enough. So, tell me what’s going on.”
    “This is difficult and complicated. You would not believe me even if I offered up a thorough explanation.”
    “Try me.”
    “Very well… but this is not the time, nor the place. We are on our way to a crime scene.”
    I turned onto North Bayview. “Okay, well, if my memory is working, this will be the third murder.”
    “Yes. The Barefoot Killer as you call him.”
    “You know about this?”
    “I do.” Fynn said and put his hand on my shoulder as if to comfort me. “Do you recall driving to Fairhaven yesterday?”
    “Yes... and looking at the records, and finding a photograph that matched.”
    “Good.”
    “Good?” I practically yelled. “How come Durbin doesn’t remember anything?” My anger surfaced. “And where the hell is Arantez? Holland? Really?”
    “As I said, I believe you to be an extremely rare individual. I’ve met only three or four like you in my long life.” The inspector eyed me carefully. “Patrick, your memory is quite extraordinary.”
    “Memory or not, can you please explain this so it makes some sense. Right now, I feel like I’m going crazy.” I shifted into a lower gear as we approached the bluffs. “What the hell is going on?”
    “Ah, my friend, this is so difficult for you, I know… and for me, no picnic to explain, as you might say.”
    “Try, please.” For some odd reason I felt like I could trust the inspector. It seemed like I had known him longer than only a day. I had just put my fate, my sanity, my life in his hands. I guess I was feeling a little more than vulnerable. Still, Fynn was

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