Chapter 24
Maggie's toes curled in the cold as she piloted her launch towards Alki Beach.
The fog was still thick, though it didn't feel like any rain was falling. It was hard to tell, with a cold dankness to the air that felt something close to moving through a rainstorm.
Maggie shivered, her nerves were making her shake. Yesterday she'd been so panicked to see Rachael again after five years; today she knew she wouldn't feel like herself until Rachael was sitting in the launch with her. How one day could make all the difference, Maggie thought.
How a person's nice, safe world could come toppling down so quickly.
Maggie's plan was a terrible plan, even she had to admit it. If Kid Galahad didn't quickly see through its thin tissue of lies over the phone, then he'd surely cotton on to the con the moment he looked into Maggie's face. But at least the phone call Maggie had delegated to Rachael. Maggie didn't have to attempt to lie to a policemen over the phone. If anyone could pull off the deception, it would be Rachael.
After all, telling people half-truths was what being a reporter was all about, giving just enough information to let the audience assume what they wanted. If Galahad wanted to catch Meerkat's killer, Rachael would let him infer, without actually stating flat out, that Maggie had the identity of the killer to offer.
Nevertheless, the information would be transferred, the idea planted firmly in the Special Agent's brain. She was almost sorry she'd missed the exchange, but Maggie had her part to play, too.
Maggie huddled down deeper into her jacket, against the cold, thick, wet air. The shadow of Alki Beach was resolving through the fog before her, the outlines of few die-hard joggers moving along its shore. Maggie strained to make out any sign of Rachael against the gloom. Maggie's small electric outboard purred faithfully behind her, pushing her against the tide.
As the prow of the launch dug into the sand, Maggie stepped out into the surf. She dared not take a step up the beach, though perhaps her twenty-four hours of immunity was still good. She didn't want to test it, standing in the frigid cold water of the rocky beach. She searched the gray fog all around her, looking for any sign of Rachael. Cars moved by, shadows on the waterfront road.
Maggie was hit by a sudden pang for a cup of coffee. An espresso, from a machine. A latte or an Americano. It was silly the cravings that hit you the second you set foot off the Raft, it wasn't like life aboard was completely off from civilization. There was Geoduck and other ships serving food and drink. But standing with her feet in cold water, Maggie hungered for a freshly made cup of shade-grown, fair trade coffee, the sort she'd served in her own café all those years ago.
There had to be an espresso machine aboard the Raft, there just had to be, but until that moment, Maggie had never felt any need to seek it out. She'd been perfectly happy with the Mr. Coffee aboard the Soft Cell. It was crazy what returning to shore reminded you of, Maggie thought, what you'd left behind. All the sweet, intricate details of life. Maggie smiled.
There was Rachael, moving across the beach towards Maggie. Her tall, thin, feminine silhouette haloed by a windswept head of red hair. She was carrying something in each hand. As she neared, Maggie realized it was two large to-go cups.
“Coffee?” Rachael said as she stepped up to the bow of Maggie's launch. She handed the two cups to Maggie and hopped quickly into the dinghy.
Mind reader, Maggie thought, cold and shivering in the surf. She handed back the cups, pulled the launch free of the beach, and climbed in as the boat floated on the waves. She kicked the motor to life and brought the launch around, gratefully accepting the offered cup of coffee from Rachael.
“So, what's the news?” Maggie asked after taking a sip of the warm drink.
“Galahad was shocked, but intrigued,” Rachael replied. “He pressed me to tell him the killer's identity over the phone, but I was able to tell him, truthfully, that I was just as ignorant as he was.”
“Ah,” Maggie smiled. “Good.”
“He'll expect answers, however, if you plan on going through with this charade. You're going to have to tell him something, even if it's a boldfaced lie.”
“Mmm,” Maggie murmured as she steered the small boat and sipped her coffee.
“Mmm?” Rachael raised an eyebrow. “I never liked your mmm's. They mean someone's dead, someone's lying, or someone's in a whole hell of a lot of shit.”
“Mmm,” Maggie said again.
“Well, which one is it?”
“It just doesn't make any sense...”
“No, if the Senator is off the hook, and even Horus. There's just no one -”
“No, not Meerkat. I mean, yes, that doesn't make a lick of sense, either. But Galahad. And the Coast Guard. Yesterday, when we left them at the County Jail. They seemed happy with Horus's confession. Satisfied. But today, they're floating in a fleet to blockade the Kon-Tiki races? Going out of their way to stick a finger in the eye of the Raft? Why stir the hornet's nest more when the bees are already agitated?”
“Maybe they didn't like the confession you extracted from Horus?” Rachael offered.
“Mmm,” was Maggie's only reply.
“It did seriously implicate the Senator. Perhaps too much. And there is the fact that you stole a pair of his loafers. Perhaps he's sending in the Coast Guard to look for them?”
“Don't joke around,” Maggie scolded, looking at her coffee cup.
“Sorry.”
“It's...” Maggie started, then stopped.
“What?”
“Well, have you ever known a cop who can't spot a fake ID?”
Rachael perked up in surprise. “No, of course not. Peter can tell a real ID just by the feel of the plastic.”
“Right. This whole new identity for Meerkat is sticking in my throat and I can't cough it out. If Meerkat's real name was Rebbecca, then the Joanna ID was obviously a fake. But SPD initially identified her as Joanna, so the ID they recovered from her wallet must have fooled one or two professional policemen.”
“When I mentioned Meerkat's true identity to Galahad,” Rachael remembered. “After he'd dropped the bomb about the blockade. He was surprised, or pissed off. One or the other.”
“So, what about Meerkat's fake ID was so convincing that it fooled all of those cops?” Maggie mused. The Soft Cell was nearing, she cut the outboard and brought the launch alongside the stern of the yacht.
“Well, I guess 'cause it wasn't a fake ID at all,” Rachael replied, taking a coffee cup as Maggie pulled herself to her feet. Maggie caught the larger ship's grab rail and held firm.
“Exactly,” Maggie said as she leapt spryly up and into the cockpit of the Soft Cell, holding the small dinghy's bow line.