The Devil in Gray (39 page)

He pulled on the rough gray Civil War pants and fastened the withered suspenders to hold them up. The pants were two or three inches too short in the leg, but that wouldn't matter when he put his boots on. He picked a plain gray shirt out of his closet, and then he shrugged on the heavy frock coat and fastened it right up to the neck. It smelled of dry-cleaning, and age.

The boots were a size too tight, but he managed to force them onto his feet by repeatedly stamping his heels on the floor. He didn't know how he was going to get them off, but he could worry about that later. Finally, he went into the bathroom and painted his chin and his upper lip with the spirit gum that the gnome in Stagestruck had sold him. He took his bristly white beard out of its polythene bag and carefully pressed it on. In a few minutes, he looked twenty years older. A slightly sharp-faced version of General Lee, but not an unconvincing likeness, apart from his Italian designer glasses. He adjusted his wide-brimmed hat, hung his saber onto his belt, and then he stood in front of the full-length mirror and struck a pose.

He came out of the bedroom, stalked across to where Hicks was sitting, and stood in front of him. In a deep, sonorous voice, he said, “After four years of arduous service marked by unsurpassed courage and fortitude, the army of northern Virginia has been compelled to yield to overwhelming numbers and resources.”

“Holy shit,” Hicks said, rising to his feet.

“Think it'll work?” Decker asked.

“Well, you sure convinced
me
.”

Decker took off his hat and sat down. “This is madness, isn't it?”

“I don't know. This whole thing is madness. Maybe the only way to fight madness is to act even madder.”

“Well, sport, I hope you're right. I don't know what the media are going to make of it, if I get chopped into pieces while I'm all dressed up like Robert E. Lee.”

All they could do now was sit and wait. Midnight passed, and Hicks checked his watch and said, “That's it, Saint James Day,” but after twenty minutes there was still no sign of Major Shroud, and the only sound they heard from outside was the lonely hooting of a riverboat.

Decker said, “If this doesn't come to anything … you know, if Shroud doesn't show … you won't mention this to anybody, will you?”

“What, you dressing up like General Lee?” Hicks hesitated, and then he smiled and shook his head. “What kind of a partner do you think I am?”

“You're a good partner, Hicks. Hardworking, bright. I think you're going to go far.”

“I don't know. This investigation, you know, it's thrown me completely. I keep asking myself, how would
I
have handled it, if
I'd
been in charge? You know what I mean?”

“Sure, I know what you mean. And what was your answer?”

“I wouldn't have dared to do anything that you did.”

“Of course you would. Don't sell yourself short.”

“You think I would have arranged a séance with my partner's wife, without even asking him?”

“I'm sorry about that, I told you.”

“You don't have to be sorry. It was the right thing to do. Do you think I would have blackmailed Queen Aché into looking for Changó for me?”

“I don't know, maybe.”

“That woman frightened three colors of shit out of me. I wouldn't have dared to do that.”

“You can't say that. Maybe you would.”

“I wouldn't, because I didn't want to believe in any of this Santería stuff. You didn't want to believe it, either, but at least your mind was open, and you followed the clues where they led you.”

The white-bearded Decker said, “That's where you're wrong, sport. I didn't follow any clues. I was shown the way, by a spirit who loves me more than I even realized. That was the only reason I believed in the Devil's Brigade, and Changó, and that was the only reason I went looking for Major Shroud.”

Hicks looked at his watch. “How about a cup of coffee? Want me to make it?”

“Sure, sounds like a good idea.”

Hicks went into the kitchen and switched on the light. As he did so, there was a ring at the doorbell. He turned and stared at Decker, and Decker pulled his Anaconda out of his holster and cocked it.

There was a long pause, and then the doorbell rang again.

“Think it's him?” Hicks asked, in a hoarse whisper.

“He'd just walk through the wall, wouldn't he? He wouldn't ring the bell.”

“Yeah. But it
could
be him.”

“Go take a look through the spyhole.”

While Hicks went to the door to see who was there, Decker went from lamp to lamp, switching them off, so that the light was subdued, apart from a single bright desk lamp directly behind him. Then he stood in the center of the room, stiff-backed, bearded chin protruding, as if he were General Robert E. Lee himself, expecting an audience.

Hicks turned around and said, “It's not him.”

“It's not? Then who is it?”

“Friends of yours. Sandra Plummer and her mother.”

“
What?
What the hell are they doing here?”

“You want me to let them in?”

“Of course I want you to let them in.”

Hicks opened the door and Sandra came in, blinking against the light. She was wearing a gray duffel coat and a maroon woolly hat. Eunice Plummer came in right behind her, her hair even wilder than usual, dressed in a long brown raincoat.

“Where's Lieutenant Martin?” she asked.

Decker took off his hat. “Right here, Ms. Plummer. Don't let the beard fool you.”

Eunice Plummer peered at him closely. “My goodness, it
is
you. Why are you dressed up like that?”

“Because I'm expecting a visitor, Ms. Plummer. I'm expecting the man who killed Jerry and Alison Maitland, and George Drewry, and John Mason. Apparently I'm next on his list.”

“But why do you have to look like Robert E. Lee?”

“I'm flattered—you guessed who I was supposed to be. It's called psychology, Ms. Plummer. Catching your suspect off guard. But what are you two doing here? It's past midnight.”

“The So-Scary Man is coming,” Sandra said, emphatically.

“How do you know that, Sandra?”

“She woke me up and said she could feel it,” Eunice Plummer said, somewhat impatiently. “I told her she was imagining things, and to go back to bed, but she wouldn't. I'm afraid she threw a bit of a tantrum, so in the end there was nothing I could do but bring her here and show her. Otherwise she could have suffered an episode.”

“An episode?”

“A fit, Lieutenant, and they can be very harmful.”

Decker said, “Sit down, please. How about a cup of coffee? Sergeant Hicks here was just making some.”

“No, thank you,” Eunice Plummer said. “But Sandra might like a glass of warm milk.”

Decker sat next to Sandra and took hold of her hands. “Sorry about the beard, Sandra. It's my disguise.”

“You look like Santa Claus.”

“Yes, you're right. Ho-ho-ho! Sorry I don't have any presents for you. But listen—tell me what you felt about the So-Scary Man.”

“I was having a dream. I was dreaming about the House of Fun.”

“Go on.”

“I saw the twisty cloud over the rooftop and then I saw the So-Scary Man coming out of the door. He was wearing his long gray coat and he was wearing a hat like yours, and I knew that he was coming to find you.”

She hesitated, and then she said, “He was carrying a sword, too. Just like yours.”

Eunice Plummer looked at Decker keenly. “You're really expecting him, aren't you? What Sandra saw in her dream—that was real, wasn't it?”

Decker nodded. “The So-Scary Man is Major Joseph Shroud, who was possessed by a Santería god called Changó, back in 1864, during the Battle of the Wilderness. Changó gave him such power that he was able to massacre hundreds of Union soldiers, and I guess he could have turned the tide of the war, if Lieutenant General Longstreet had allowed it.”

“I don't understand. How could he still be alive today?”

“I don't really understand it myself. But his fellow officers sealed him in a lead casket so that his body was preserved, and I guess that his life spark was kept alight by Changó.”

“And he's coming here—tonight?”

“My great-great-grandfather was one of the men who sealed him up. He wants his revenge.”

Sandra said, “I woke up and I looked out of my bedroom window and I saw the black twisty cloud over the House of Fun and I knew it was real.”

“You're right, Sandra,” Decker told her. “It
is
real.” He turned to Eunice Plummer and said, “There's no doubt about it—Sandra has some extrasensory sensitivity, whatever you want call it. Otherwise she wouldn't know that Main Street Station is the House of Fun—or, actually, ‘Ofun,' which means ‘the place where the curse is born.'”

To Sandra, he said, “Sandra—I want to thank you for all of your concern. You've been amazing, and you've helped us to solve all these murders. But things could get dangerous here tonight, so I want you to take your mom home, okay? When all of this is finished with, and we've locked the So-Scary Man up in prison, I'll come around and take you and your mom out for lunch. How do you like fried chicken?”

“He's outside the door,” Sandra said, in a matter-of-fact voice.

“Excuse me?”

“The So-Scary Man. He's standing right outside the door.”

Decker immediately stood up and jammed on his hat. “
Hicks!
” he shouted. “Forget about the coffee! He's here! Bring in the fruit and everything! Bring in that rooster! And bring in that carving knife, too!”

Eunice looked flustered. “What shall
we
do?”

“You and Sandra go into the bedroom. Close the door and lock it. He won't try to hurt you unless you get in his way.”

“I have to stay,” Sandra said.

“You can't! This man is a homicidal maniac! Now get in the bedroom, please!”

“But you won't be able to see him!”

Hicks was coming out of the kitchen with a paper bag of groceries in one hand and the rooster in the other. The rooster was fluttering and flustering and trying to burst out of its basket. Hicks said, “She's right, Lieutenant. Think what happened to Queen Aché.”

But Decker took Sandra's arm and started to propel her toward the bedroom. “I can't risk it. If the So-Scary Man sees that you've been helping me—God alone knows what he could do to you!”

“I have to stay!” Sandra protested. “Don't you understand?
It's what I was born for!
”

Decker stopped pushing her and stared at her. Sandra stared back at him, her pale blue eyes unblinking and determined.

Eunice Plummer came forward and put her arm around Sandra's shoulders. “She's right, Lieutenant. Don't you see? She was born with a handicap, but she was also born with a very great gift. This is her destiny, isn't it?”

Decker opened his mouth and then closed it again. He didn't know what to say.

Hicks lifted up the brown paper bag of fruit and herbs. “All ready, Lieutenant.”

“Okay, then, sport.” Decker turned back to Sandra and looked at her seriously. “If you really want to stay, Sandra—you can stay. But promise me you'll keep right behind me, and don't attract attention to yourself. If things start to go wrong, don't hesitate, don't try to help—you and your mom run into that bedroom as fast as you can and lock the door tight and call the police.”

Sandra said, “I promise.”

Decker turned around. Hicks was waiting in the kitchen doorway and gave him the thumbs-up. “Is the So-Scary Man still outside?” he asked Sandra.

Sandra nodded. “He's saying something, inside his head. Like a prayer.”

“All right, then. Hold tight.”

After a while, Sandra closed her eyes and began to mutter. Decker couldn't hear everything she was saying, but he recognized some of it. “
Babami Changó ikawo ilemu fumi alaya tilanchani nitosi
…”

He went back to the middle of the room, took off his glasses, and stood very stiff, in the same way that General Lee had posed for so many photographs and engravings. He tried to look calm and unafraid, even though his heart was galloping like a panicky horse and he kept seeing flashes of Queen Aché, hopelessly holding up the stumps of her fingerless hands, with sticks of bone showing above the flesh.

Sandra muttered, “…
Ni re elese ati wi Changó alamu oba layo ni na ile ogbomi
.” She paused for a while and then she opened her eyes.

“Is he moving yet?” Decker asked.

Sandra said nothing. Her eyes seemed to be focused on nothing at all.

“Sandra? Is he moving yet?”

“He's already inside,” Sandra whispered. “He's standing by the door.”

Decker narrowed his eyes, trying to see any disturbance in the air, but without his glasses the middle distance was a blur.

“He's coming nearer. He's walking past the kitchen. He's here. He's right in front of you. He's staring at you.”

Decker cleared his throat. “Major Joseph Shroud?” he asked, gruffly.

“He's still staring at you,” Sandra said. “He's got his hand resting on his sword handle.”

Decker said, as grandly as he could, “I've received a dispatch about you, Major Shroud, from Lieutenant General Longstreet.”

“He's taken his hand off his sword handle. He's lifting his arm. He's saluting you.”

“General Lee, sir? Is that really General Lee?” Major Shroud's disembodied voice was husky with emotion.

“It seems that the army of northern Virginia owes you a considerable debt, Major Shroud.”

“I only did what was required of me, General.”

“No, Major Shroud, you did much more than that. You sacrificed yourself for your country. Single-handed, you drove back the enemy, and you safeguarded our capital and our cause. In recognition of your valor and your devotion, I am hereby promoting you to the rank of colonel.”