Free Port of Sorrow by Grant McKenzie

color. At least not until he comes home.”
    “And the veil?”
    “Keeps the sun out of my eyes,” Abery said firmly. “And I like it.”
    Finn nodded as though it was the most natural explanation he had ever heard.
    “How long since Harold disappeared?”
    “Eight years.”
    “And you still believe he’ll come back?”
    “I know he will.”
    They sat in silence for a moment before Finn asked, “What’s the tent for?”
    “That’s where I live.”
    “But the house?”
    “Harold and I bought the house for us. I can’t bring myself to cross the threshold without him.”
    “But the furnishings, the cleaning . . .”
    “Friends keep the house clean. In return, I provide them with medical aid and a bed to sleep in when they’re too tired to walk home.”
    “Friends like Joseph?” Finn asked.
    “Who else would be friends with a crazy woman?”

 
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 14
     
     
    “Who released him?” Julia asked the deputy manning the station’s front desk.
    “It doesn’t say,” the deputy sighed. “But I assume it must have been Gilles. He was the only one with the authority, and he never does the damn paperwork until you hound his ass for a week.”
    “Where’s Gilles now?”
    “Probably down at Houndstooth.”
    “Where and what is that?” asked Julia.
    The deputy stared at her as if she had three heads.
    “It’s a warehouse on the docks that’s been converted into an after-hours club. It opens when the bars close.”
    “That’s illegal.”
    “Course it is, but where else is a cop to get a drink after pulling a dusk-to-dawn shift? Houndstooth is okay. He keeps the place quiet and he knows who to keep out.”
    “How do I get there?”
    “Just go to the docks. You’ll see Gilles’ Camaro parked out front of a warehouse with a yellow door. There’s also a small mural of an Indian eagle on the front. It looks like shit if you ask me, but Houndstooth painted it himself and he’s real sensitive about his art.”
    “Thanks.”
    “No problem. Just don’t tell the asshole where you got the info.”
    Julia grinned and headed upstairs to meet the sheriff.
     
     
    SHERIFF MARSHALL WAS standing with his back to the door, looking out the window at his ocean view. If it hadn’t been for a blanket of low fog, he would be watching pleasure boats sailing up the Strait, playing dare as they crisscrossed the invisible border between Canada and the United States.
    He remained standing after Julia knocked and entered. He didn’t want to return to business too quickly. When he finally turned around, Julia was sitting in front of his desk, chewing a thumbnail.
    “Did you meet with MacDougall?” he asked, sliding down into his leather chair.
    “The report should be finished this afternoon.”
    “Why so long?”
    Julia shrugged. “She didn’t say.”
    Marshall paused to jot some notes onto a lined pad of paper. “Any suspects yet?”
    “One,” Julia answered.
    “Oh.” Marshall couldn’t hide his surprise. “Who?”
    “A man by the name of Wells. Selene’s roommate said he stopped Wells in the middle of an attempted rape an hour before her murder.”
    “He?”
    “His name’s Finn. He also goes by the stage name Veronique.”
    “Well, I’ll be damned.” Marshall leaned back in his chair, his eyes full of laughter and shock. “I was inches away from her after the murder, and I’ll be goddamned if I would ever guess she was a man.”
    “I was surprised, too.”
    Marshall jotted down a few more notes. “Did this Finn character see Wells pull the trigger?”
    “No.”
    Marshall frowned. “Well, it’s a start. So what’s your next step?”
    “I thought I’d talk to Finn again and then get a photo of Wells to show to the witnesses. Maybe someone will remember him.”
    Marshall nodded in agreement.
    “Just watch yourself,” he warned. “If this guy likes to dress as a woman, who knows what else he’s into.”
     
     
    THE DOCKS WERE shrouded in stubborn morning mist, but