The Darkest Game by Joseph Schneider

Author:Joseph Schneider
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2022-03-10T00:00:00+00:00

Part II

The Great Temple

12

The cloud cover broke early, seared off by a July sun that already had the back of Jarsdel’s neck prickling with heat. They’d only just left Long Beach Harbor, the Catalina Island ferry finally reaching speed, and he wanted to stay on deck and enjoy the wind kicking off the waves. But he also knew if he didn’t get back inside soon, the fair skin of his cheeks would take on an embarrassing scarlet flush that could last as long as a week. He thought of what Mrs. Rostami had said, about how little he must have inherited of his baba’s features. She’d been right about that, especially when it came to his vulnerability to sunburn. He and Dad shared what Baba referred to as “the pallor of a Borstal hooligan weaned on neeps and tatties.”

The boat hit a swell, misting the air with bow spray. Jarsdel tasted salt on his tongue. It had been years since he’d been out on the water, and he’d forgotten how good it felt.

A few more minutes, he thought, then reminded himself what it would mean. A week of Morales and jokes about whether Jarsdel was wearing rouge. He went back inside, sparing a curious glance at the upper deck and the enclosed Commodore Lounge, the Catalina Express’s version of a first-class cabin. Lieutenant Gavin had ensured the department paid only for general seating, and Jarsdel had suggested to his partner that they kick in the extra thirty bucks for the lounge. Morales refused, calling it a rip-off. But it looked quieter up there, and you got a free drink.

Morales was having a Bloody Mary and reading something called Chain Saw Confidential.

“Pretty bright out there,” said Jarsdel as he sat across from him. “Forgot to put on sunscreen.”

Morales raised his eyes, grunted, then went back to his book. “Yeah, wouldn’t want any color. Gotta stay lookin’ like a Tim Burton character.”

The boat hit another swell, and Jarsdel’s stomach turned. “I didn’t take any Dramamine. You have any?”

“No.”

“What if you get seasick?”

“I don’t.”

“Maybe the server will have some.” Jarsdel looked out the window. San Pedro Bay was to the north, the enormous container cranes of the Port of Los Angeles hooking out over the water like giant steel fingers. Jarsdel checked the time on his phone. They had almost an hour before they’d arrive in Avalon. He returned his gaze to the rolling blue surf, smiling when he spotted a pod of dolphins playing in the waves.

“I’ve been thinking about something. The nature of a homicide in a contained space like the one we’re going to. Can’t drive in and out, obviously. Access is limited. You’ve got ferries like this and the helicopter, right?”

“Who’re you talking to?” Morales said. “Are you actually talking to me?”

Jarsdel was puzzled. “Who else?”

“Then can you actually look in my direction when you’re conversating? Starin’ out the window, givin’ me that Jorge routine again. Like you been smacked in the head with a Wiffle bat, talkin’ to yourself.

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