The Last Nightingale (25 page)

He squinted at the ground by the faint starlight and saw that the water was receding, but it was barely down from the high water mark. This tide would be headed back out to sea for hours and hours before it turned back through the Golden Gate and into the Bay. If he pushed the carcass in now, it would sail off and be lost to history. And a very funny joke would go untold.

Tommie wedged the cocoon tightly between two large rocks, where it would safely remain until the rising tide returned. Then the power of Nature herself would pry it loose and send it on its way. With just a bit of luck, the friar would be swept into the Bay and beached somewhere. Tommie sliced open the cocoon, so that Friar John could bid the world farewell in all of his bloated and rotting repulsiveness, pink and purple and red and black. It would be
his very last opportunity to personally show the world what he had really looked like inside, all along.

Blackburn quit his shift at four
A.M.
for the first time in his life, feeling well assured that nobody would ever find out. His mood improved as soon as he walked away from his beat and started for the Mission Dolores. It was such a relief to be headed away from the human swamp of drunks and muggers and on his way to deliver good news to a deserving kid, he didn’t even feel anxious about how things might turn out—until he had the Mission’s cemetery gate in sight.

He stopped there, when the questions hit him. How was he going to do this? Build the boy up to it and spring it gently? Give it to him straight and let him decide whether or not to be upset on his own? How much protection did a young fellow that age need, anyway?

He quietly opened the gate and gently closed it behind him. He felt no urge to rush into things, now that he was there. He glided through the darkness toward the toolshed at the back of the property. When he drew closer, he saw that a lantern was shining inside the shed. The door was pulled open to allow a beam of light to fall onto the ground outside. In the shadows of the outer wall next to the door, he saw Shane sitting with another small person. The other one had the appearance of a skinny boy, but there was femininity to the posture and movements. She employed a theatrical array of gestures when she spoke, and the pair seemed to be engrossed in conversation.

They spoke quietly, whether out of respect for the dead or the fear of disturbing the resident priests. He realized that there was no reason to stand in the darkness and eavesdrop on them, the way his habits told him to do. So he continued toward them and only heard a few lines before they noticed his approach.

“Shane?” Blackburn called out. Both kids immediately whipped around to face him. He got close enough to offer a reassuring smile and wave. “It’s just me, Shane—Sergeant Blackburn. How are you doing?” He saw the girl regard him with mild curiosity, but Shane had that same trapped animal look again, even though he tried to hide it.

Both of them stood up, waiting for him to let them know what was going on. He decided to just plunge in and let the chips fall.

“I’m, ah, actually here with some news, Shane. It concerns you. And it’s good news, too.”

Shane looked as if he was wracking his brain for what sort of good news a police officer was likely to bring him. Blackburn realized that he wouldn’t care to be approached that way himself, so he decided to jump to it.

“All right. This is it, then. Hold on to your hat.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “You know, the interesting thing is that we’ve got whole insurance companies that are going into bankruptcy now. You know what that means? It means to fail. To go broke. Because so many people are coming up with every trick they can think of to make a claim that they’ve got no right to. But you, Shane, you never went to City Hall to check, and you never went to some attorney to look into it, and you sure never talked to the insurance company people. They told me.” Blackburn gave him an admiring smile. “You’re a bit young to deal with insurance people, but this gentleman here”—he handed Shane the business card for Attorney Gabriel Towels—“is a lawyer for the insurance company that covered Mr. Nightingale’s other properties.”

“Prop-properties?” Shane asked, uncomprehending.

“A couple of apartment buildings, a few other things. Anyway these people have figured it all out down to the last penny, and this man told me that you have a lot of money waiting for you. We aren’t talking about the kind of money that you go out and spend on a party or a bunch of clothing or things like that, either, Shane. This is
enough to change your life all around. Now, he said it’s not enough to make you rich forever, but it’s enough to take care of you, if you’re careful with it.”

The girl leaned to Shane and whispered, “See it and read it.” Blackburn recognized her now as one of the kids from the orphanage.

Shane stared into space for a second, then turned to Blackburn. “There must be some mistake.”

Blackburn noticed that Shane did not falter, but decided not to mention it.

“Well, don’t say that so fast,” the girl cautioned. She glanced over at Blackburn and gave a little sigh, then smiled at him. “I saw you in the office because I used to get in trouble on purpose, just so they would make me clean in there and I could look for our files.”

“Excuse me?” he asked. “I don’t know what that means.”

“I’m Shane’s sister. They called me Mary Kathleen when I met you, but my real name is Vignette. And I finally found our file, the one for Shane and me, that proves we’re brother and sister. They were never going to tell us! Can you believe that? All so that they could adopt us out easier. You know, without a lot of kicking and screaming.”

“Ah. That’s why you’re here then.”

“… Obviously.”

“Good. All right. Good then. Now Shane, you need to go over and see that man as soon as you can. If you want to go later this afternoon after we’ve both had a chance to catch some sleep, I’ll come by and go with you.”

“Would that be soon enough?” Vignette asked, concerned. “Maybe we should get something to eat and go on over as soon as they open up.”

Blackburn laughed. “You can, but I bet it’s a good idea to have an adult with you who’s on your side.”

“Are you sure about this?” Shane quietly asked. He kept reading in his mind’s eye. “Are these people sure this is right?”

“City records prove you were formally adopted by the Nightingales.”

“I mo-mostly worked for them.”

“Doesn’t matter, they gave you their name. You’re legally a Nightingale and this money is your family estate.”

“A family estate.” Vignette repeated the words with solemn wonder.
“A family estate.
I think those are the most beautiful words I ever heard.”

“Sergeant Black-Black-”

“Just don’t say Blackie.”

Shane laughed and relaxed a little. “Sergeant, they would never leave me money.”

“Right. Interesting part, that. They don’t have a will saying that you can or can’t have it, or that anybody else can, either. Maybe it burned up with the house. That wouldn’t be a problem if the family had survived. But after the disaster, you
are
the Nightingale family, Shane. You’re it. And so it just doesn’t matter what anybody else wanted, anymore.”

He tried to make his own vision appear inside their minds. “You could go to school. A great private school. You can both go. You can have decent lives.”

Shane’s face suddenly lit up so that it nearly glowed. His eyes darted back and forth for a moment, then he concentrated and asked, “I can share it with my sister, right?”

“I’m pretty sure that you can, pal.” He clapped him on the shoulder and shook his hand. “Congratulations. Things are going to change.”

Shane stepped back to the toolshed and sat back against the wall, reeling. He rubbed his forehead with his palm, but this time he made no effort to speak.

Blackburn turned to the girl, Vignette, as she wanted to be called. She smiled at him, then turned away and dreamily looked up into the sky. The impact of the news made her shudder, even
though her arms were wrapped around herself. Her teeth chattered while she stepped over to Shane and sat beside him.

“It’s like we just got permission to stay alive, Shane.” She squinted into the thought and nodded with a smile. “It’s a sign. I think it makes a lot of sense.”

Shane stared at his watch hanging on the wall, then turned to Blackburn and cleared his throat. “Do you think we could meet here at four o’clock this afternoon? I mean, would you come, Sergeant Blackburn?”

Blackburn noticed that this time Shane got through two entire sentences without stuttering at all.

Tommie felt strangely out of place while he drove his rig up the road leading to St. Adrian’s. He nearly always walked when he was in full dress and makeup, risking the beat cops for the joy of attracting predators. Here, sitting high up in the buggy seat in full splendor as an ersatz female, he felt uncomfortably exposed. The hour was now very late, the sea fog was thick. There was scant traffic on the streets at this hour, so he drove along in reasonable isolation.

When the first destination approached, he pulled the draft horse to a stop across from the main offices of the orphanage. The gas lines to light the streetlamps had not been reconnected yet in this neighborhood, so there was only faint moonlight to betray him. And in the moonlight, Tommie knew that he appeared to the world as a mere silhouette.

The office windows were all dark. There was no one to look out and see the well-dressed lady getting down from her buggy. No one would have been alarmed if they had. They might notice that she carried an oil lantern, but that was to be expected for a woman alone in this darkened neighborhood. Nothing to arouse suspicion at all. She walked briskly toward the offices, moving with a femi-
nine sway that developed into a little skip. She became suspicious only when she used her forward momentum to swing the oil lamp in a wide arc and hurl it forward with shocking power.

The lamp flew straight through the glass of one of the windows and shattered inside, spraying oil in all directions. There was a pause of about two seconds before a low wave of flame appeared, rising from the office floor. It quickly became big enough to expand under its own power, moving to consume every record in the office files—every document telling anything about a bastard who now went by the name of Shane Nightingale. Tommie knew that the housing area was in another building, so all of the kids would survive to join the bucket brigade before the fire crews arrived to stand around and help watch the place burn.

Tommie sauntered back to the buggy and climbed in. When he glanced back toward the offices, the fire was already growing. But it would be several minutes before it became apparent to observers and visible through the fog. There was plenty of time to vacate the vicinity and get over to the Mission Dolores, to be mistaken for a grieving lady who has come to visit a grave, perhaps also to pray at the beautiful Mission altar. And what kind of person disturbs a small, grieving woman in a graveyard?

With Friar John out of the picture and the orphanage records destroyed, The Bastard’s history had been eliminated. And now “Shane Nightingale” had just been moved one step closer to not existing at all.

V
IGNETTE
WAS RELIEVED
that the morning sun was finally beginning to cook off the fog. Ever since Sergeant Blackburn left, she and Shane were so excited that they expended their extra energy with a long stream of boring physical chores. The work helped to relax the nerves, but it barely relieved the stunned sense of disbelief that gripped both of them. Vignette could see how deeply affected Shane was, even though he worked so hard to keep his reaction to himself. She felt grateful that he had accepted her so completely. He embraced her as his sister, to the point that his first thought on hearing about his good fortune was to bring her into it.

She had come to him with such blind hope in her heart, and Shane had actually showed himself to be the extraordinary young man whom she needed him to be. For the first time, it was safe to finally let go and love someone, a boy especially—a boy who would not go away, a boy who would not hurt her, a boy who cared about what happened to her every day.

For about an hour, they had both been using the Mission’s long-straw brooms to clean the walkways and all of the grave tops. Shane had told her how he made it a point of doing something every day that the padres could easily see, to demonstrate his value to them. Vignette’s pragmatic side grasped that. She wore a good inch off of the broom’s bristles.

Shane also cautioned her to avoid disturbing any mourners who might come through after sunrise. Sometimes they liked to stop in to leave flowers at the grave and pray undisturbed. So far they had the place to themselves, except for a single lady standing off in the shadows in a far corner. Vignette could not tell which grave the woman was visiting, but she seemed to be deep in prayer. Shane was so used to visitors passing through that he ignored her altogether. Vignette was glad for that. Every adult they had to interact with had the power to give them some kind of trouble or grief. If this adult wanted to be left alone, that was good. One less thing.

Vignette worked away, making sure Shane noticed that she was not one to shrink from a little effort. She sneaked glances at him whenever she got the chance, half expecting him to turn to her and begin his explanation of why he really could not accept her. Instead, he just kept working, and she felt a rush of such love and gratitude for him. It felt like it was probably the next best thing to romance and surely a thousand times safer. It was a space that she could occupy, a place where she could live.

A few morning birds were singing in the branches overhead, but the only sound in the cemetery was the whisking of the brooms over the stone and mortar surfaces. With a slight echo to the air, she and Shane barely had to do more than whisper to hear each other.

“I’m almost finished over here,” she announced.

“Me, too. Just about. Cou-cou-cou—”

“Read it first.”

“Couple of minutes.” He laughed and shook his head.