Violets Are Blue - James Patterson [45]
I made sure I was back in Washington the next afternoon. At seven-thirty, Nana, Jannie, little Alex, and I went to a Boys’ Choir concert.
The choir sounded better than ever. Damon was one of the featured singers. He had a beautiful solo, “The Ash Grove.”
“See what you’ve been missing?” Nana leaned in close and said.
Chapter 45
WILLIAM AND Michael liked being in the South. It was wild and free-spirited, just like they were. Most important, they were right on schedule.
They had arrived in Savannah, Georgia. William drove the van along Oglethorpe Street and stopped at the famous Colonial Park Cemetery. Then he went on to Abercorn. Then along Perry Street, passing Chippewa and Orleans Squares. He told Michael, lectured to him, “Savannah is built on its dead. A whole lot of this port city is built on the graveyards.” Also that Savannah had been spared in the Civil War and now was one of the best-preserved Southern cities.
William liked this beautiful city very much and was pleased that they had to take a victim in Savannah. It would be a pleasure to feed here, and to fulfill their mission. He lost track of the street names as he took in the sights of the historic district. Magnificent Federal-period town houses, nineteenth-century churches, fancy ironwork with scrolls and Greek motifs, flowers everywhere. He admired the famous old houses: Green-Meldrim, Hamilton-Turner, Joe Odom’s first house.
“It’s beautiful and elegant,” he told his brother. “I could live here. You think we should settle down one day? Would you like that?”
“I’m famished. Let’s settle down soon,” Michael replied with a laugh. “Let’s settle down and feast on the finest that Savannah has to offer.”
William finally parked the van on a street called West Bay, and he and his brother got out and stretched their arms and legs.
Two young girls in Savannah College of Art and Design T-shirts and blue-jean cutoffs came strolling up to the van. They had long, shapely legs, butterscotch tans, and seemed not to have a care in the world.
“Can we give blood here?” the smaller of the girls asked with a conquering smile. She looked to be around sixteen or seventeen. She had lip studs and wild cherry Jell-O–dyed hair.
“Aren’t you the dainty morsel?” said Michael as he locked eyes with the girl.
“I’m a lot of things,” she said, and looked over at her friend, “but dainty sure isn’t one of ’em. Don’t you agree, Carla?” The other girl nodded and rolled her green eyes.
William looked the girls over and thought they could do better in Savannah. These two tramps weren’t worthy of him and Michael.
“We’re closed for business right now. Sorry.” He was polite and smiled graciously, even seductively. “Maybe a little later, ladies. Why don’t you two come back tonight? How about that?”
The short girl snapped, “You don’t have to get an attitude. We were just making conversation.”
William lazily ran his hand back through his long blond hair. He continued to smile. “Oh, I know that. So was I. Who could blame me for chatting up two beautiful girls like yourselves? Like I said, maybe we’ll see you later tonight. Of course we’ll take your blood for the cause.”
William and Michael decided to take a stroll toward the Savannah River and an area called Riverfront Plaza. They barely noticed the freighters and tugs on the water, or the gaily festooned paddleboat, the Savannah River Queen, or even the “Waving Girl” statue, towering and bronze, a young woman waving a sad farewell to departing sailors. They preferred to check out the men and women walking through the plaza. They were looking for prey, even though they knew it would be dangerous to strike here in broad daylight. A flea market was in progress, and the various local artists had drawn a respectable crowd—a few soldiers, but mostly women, some of them very attractive.
“I do want to take someone. Maybe right here in this oh-so-fucking-pretty river park,” William finally said.
“He’d do nicely,” Michael said, as he pointed out a slender male in a black T-shirt