“Mystical beings like werewolves?”
“Werewolves are not the mystical beings I’m suggesting,” Gracie retorted. “He might have been a pixie, fairy, vampire, Bigfoot, mage or even a dragon.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Are you telling me all those mystical creatures need a human host to survive?”
“A mystical being has a reason for entering our world. There is something required of the human that is selected, or so the legend says. Our mother gave us a book all about it. It’s quite confusing.”
“Can I find that book at the library?” I asked.
“No, we have the only copy.”
“May I borrow it? I promise I’ll bring it back later this week.”
“Why do you want the book?” Gracie asked.
“I find the subject interesting. And what if the man who was killed really was one of these mythical creatures?”
“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you! We’ll allow you to borrow the book if you promise to bring it back in five days’ time,” Wilma said. “Fetch it, sister.”
Gracie disappeared into the next room. I had to ask, “Is that a real crystal ball?”
“Real enough to convince our clients. Don’t get me wrong, my visions are far more revealing, and all I have to do is touch a client’s hands.”
“You mentioned your visions are being blocked. Could they be blocked by your last client?”
“I didn’t think about that, Gracie,” Wilma called out.
Gracie carried in the leather-bound book and handed it to me. “I was coming.”
“Who was our last client? Alex here believes they may have stolen my visions.”
“I didn’t exactly say it like that,” I said. “I said they might have blocked your visions, although I can’t imagine why. Unless whoever he was knows you’re both powerful psychics and doesn’t want you to know who he really is.”
“Mystical creature,” Gracie hissed. “I should have known it was him!” She raced from the room again and returned with a small appointment book. “The page for that day is missing!”
Wilma took the book and frowned. “How right you are, sister.”
“Can you describe the man,” I asked.
“Oh, did I say it was a man?” Gracie asked.
“You said as much, Gracie,” Wilma said with certainty.
Gracie nodded. “He was tall and very muscular and quite worried. He was hiding from someone, and it was quite important for him to hide something of great importance where it couldn’t be found. He worried that it would fall into the wrong hands.”
I held the book tightly. “Were you able to have a vision while he was here?”
“I remember now,” Wilma began, “I wasn’t able to get a reading of any sort with him -- or since for any of my clients.”
“How awful. I hope this won’t set your work back,” I said.
“I’m hardly going to give it up. I’m sure my visions will return in time.”
“I hope they do,” I said as I stood. “Do you know of any werewolves in Westland? Apparently one confessed to committing the murder.”
“There was a full moon that night,” Wilma said. “But I’ve never done a reading for a werewolf.”
“Thank you for your time, ladies. I have more footwork to do. Do you know why there might be paranormal activity in the mountains?”
“I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s something I’ve felt for the past few weeks. Maybe paranormal activity has always existed there,” Wilma muttered. “I wish I could be of more help. My visions may return by the time you return the book, so I may be able to help you more then.”
I slid behind the wheel and set the book beside me as I drove back to the city. I was more concerned about what had happened in the wilderness. Should I believe what they told me about the man who came for a reading? Why would he come to them to ask where a good hiding place might be? Did they tell him about the waterfall? I still didn’t understand how I noticed the rope hanging close to the waterfall lookout. Did I find what he was trying so desperately to hide … the sword? If the sword was worth hiding, someone must be looking for it.
The psychics lost me when they began to talk about paranormal beings living among us. Was it possible that a dragon inhabited the victim and I was the new host? I shook my head. This was overwhelming. I would have to come up with something believable when Blake asked me about how the questioning went. I certainly wasn’t about to tell him what the sisters led me to believe. I’d have to conceal the book in a safe place and read it when I was alone.
Back at my apartment, I did a once over and the hairs on the back of my neck were at alert. I stared at the wall where a framed picture of a mountain scene hung. There was the tiniest of holes in the waterfall. I walked over and carefully removed the painting from the wall and yanked the wire that was attached behind it. I crushed the tiny camera under my foot and called Blake.
I walked to the basement and carried the book into my storage locker. I carefully pulled out a loose block and hid the book inside. Like I said, whoever owned my condo before me worked for some sort of intelligence agency. It wouldn’t be safe to bring the book back to my apartment until it was debugged.
I met Blake outside my condo. He carried a black backpack. “You’ll be bug-free in a half hour.”
“Shouldn’t I stay here while you do it?”
“Not unless you can keep quiet that long. I know you, so I’d say no. Why don’t you head over to Hunan’s and check out your new office.”
I nodded and pulled my keys and driver’s license from my purse and left. I wanted to be certain I wasn’t bugged. Bernstein and Hughes had apparently gotten into my condo when I wasn’t home. I could see them wanting to spirit me off to their lab, but why would they need to install surveillance equipment? I lived alone, and the only time I had company was when Blake came over to talk about the case. Whoever was eavesdropping on me heard all about Blake questioning Bigfoot, not that the agents would put much stock in that. I can’t imagine anyone taking that seriously. I hardly think Bernstein and Hughes are eavesdropping on me to hear the specifics of Blake’s case. Come to think of it, why would they bug me when I don’t do anything of much interest?
Eleven
I walked into Hunan’s and Lina shooed me back outside. She guided me to the side of the restaurant and opened a gold-painted door that opened into a small office. There was room for only a desk and computer chair, with two folding metal chairs presumably for my clients. I stared at an empty corner where I might wedge in a file cabinet.
The low hum of an air conditioner crammed in the only window offered some comfort. This would be a good place to handle my investigative business if I ever solved my current case -- or I should say Blake’s current case. And I didn’t think Bernstein and Hughes would ever think to look for me here.
I’d be sure to wear my uniform when I used the office so that nothing looked out of place from the last five years I’d worked here.. Rumor had it that the restaurant would be closing at the end of the month, but it appeared that business was still booming. If I was lucky they’d remain open. I’d hate to lose Lina, or even grumpy Mr. Lee, as friends. They were like family.
I’d been on my own since I was in my early twenties, when my parents sold our house and disappeared one day, leaving me enough money to pay for first month’s rent and deposit. Jobs were plentiful in Westland, and it was an obvious choice to move here. I was fortunate that the Hunans were willing to hire me when I had no job experience.
The office certainly needed to look more lived in. Maybe a plant would help. Or I could scatter paperwork all over my desk. It seemed to work for Detective Blake. While at the moment I’m investigating a murder with Blake, how will I spread the word to attract more cases?
I’d figure out the details later. I had more important matters at hand. I opened a drawer of the desk and found a notebook and pens. I was distracted by a knock on the door, and Lina walked in with a
telephone that she set on my desk and connected to the phone jack.
“Now you all set for clients.” She smiled.
“I have a cell phone,” I reminded her.
“Phone is linked to one at desk. I transfer calls when you get call.”
“Nobody is going to call me.”
“I help spread the word. You see, you’ll be plenty busy.”
I stared at the door that closed behind Lina and shrugged. This might be a lucrative venture after all if Lina was going to plug me. Hunan’s was known for an interesting clientele.
I stared at the metal chairs for clients. I’d have to purchase better chairs. Even I wouldn’t sit on those minuscule chairs.
I spotted keys that Lina had apparently set on the desk and grabbed them on the way out the door. I wanted to speak with the tip line operator.
I paced the small office I was led into. The computer desk was large, with a laptop much bigger than mine. The desk was tidy, and an aloe plant topped the file cabinet. Maybe handling the tip line was more dangerous than I thought. I took note of the phone with flashing lights.
The door opened and in walked a tall woman who greeted me. “Detective Blake tells me you’d like to discuss the calls to the tip line.”
“Something like that,” I said as I extended my hand to shake hers. “I’m Alex Frost.”
The woman shook my hand for what seemed like a few minutes before I was able to pull my hand free. “You really have quite the grip.”
“So I’ve been told. Please have a seat, Ms. Frost.”
“Please call me Alex.”
Once we were seated the woman adjusted her lavender jacket and smoothed it over her matching slacks. She then pulled a notebook from her desk. She hesitantly laughed. “I must admit I can’t believe Detective Blake is following up with this tip.”
“So he already told you why I’m here?”
She cleared her throat. “The werewolf and his unexpected confession.” She thumbed through several pages. “His name is Ralph. I don’t have a last name, but I have an address if that helps.”
“No phone number?”
“I’m afraid not.”
I studied the woman’s barely-lined face. “I wonder why he didn’t just turn himself in at the police department.”
“I can’t say. I certainly asked him to contact Detective Blake directly.”
I made a move to pull a pen and paper from my purse until I remembered I had left my purse at home. “Could you give me the address?” I asked and added it to the notes section of my phone.
“Have you received any other peculiar calls or confessions?”
“Peculiar yes, but no other confessions. It’s quite difficult, but I have managed to weed out the good from the bad.”
“How can you be certain if the tips aren’t checked out?”
“I’ve been doing this for about ten years now. Believe me, I pass on any credible tip to the detectives.”
“You mentioned you received peculiar tips?”
“I’ve receive tips about paranormal activity in the mountains in relation to the murder.”
“I believe the psychic sisters called you before contacting the detective.”
“No, I haven’t spoken to any psychics.”
“Then I wonder how they knew to contact Blake.”
“It’s not that hard to find out who the detective in charge is. All they would have to do is call the station.”
“Did the other callers give you their names?”
“No. They simply told me about the paranormal activity and hung up. I believe they might have been prank calls.”
“Don’t you have a way to trace the calls?”
“It wouldn’t be anonymous if we did that.”
“You’re right. Why did you pass on the tip about the werewolf?”
“How can one not take note of a werewolf confessing to a vicious murder?”
“I’m assuming it was a man who called.”
“Yes, it was obviously a man. He had a husky voice and sounded like he had a bit of a cold. Strange really.”
“Thank you for your help. Could I get your name if I need to contact you again?”
She cleared her throat as if she was trying to avoid my question.
“Adella Holstein.”
“Are you related to the reporter Holly Holstein?”
Adella frowned. “That’s why I didn’t want to mention my name. Holly is my daughter.”
“So the mother of a reporter is working the tip line?” Talk about conflict of interest.
“I assure you, I’d never divulge the contents of the calls with Holly. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell the detective I’m related to Holly. I wouldn’t want him to think I have motives other than recording the tips called in.”
I stood up and shook Adella’s hand. “I don’t see any reason to tell him.” At least not until I had proof that the woman was relaying information to her daughter.
I leaned over Blake’s desk and received quite the glare when he glanced up from his paperwork.
“Do you want to meet an honest to goodness werewolf?”
Blake’s brow shot up. “You must be kidding. There’s no such thing as werewolves.”
“And what about pixies, fairies, vampires, Bigfoot, mages and dragons?”
“Are you insane?”
“No, but according to the psychics all those mythical creatures not only exist, but might be lurking in the wilderness where the murder occurred.”
I plopped down on a chair. “They were quite interesting. And they claimed a man came for a reading. He was quite worried about hiding something of great importance. He feared that it would fall into the wrong hands.”
“Oh, and he apparently took their visions with him when he left.” I grinned.
“That’s not funny, Alex.”
“They were quite insistent that the man who was murdered wasn’t human, or that he was a half-breed of some sort of mystical creature.” I leaned back in the chair. “What if that’s why he was murdered? He had something the killer wanted?”
I knew I’d gone too far when Blake popped a few pills into his mouth from a bottle he pulled from a drawer. He’d blow a gasket if I told him about the mystical creature needing a host upon its death.
“You’re going to give me a coronary if you keep on like this.”
“I’m just passing on the information I acquired. Maybe we should talk about the bugs found in my condo instead.”
“Your apartment is bug-proof and your alarm system is activated.” He handed me a piece of paper. “This is the code.”
My mouth fell open. “What alarm system?”
“The one located inside one of your kitchen cabinets. I also found a hidden compartment that contains a safe.”
“The safe I knew about, but not so much the alarm system.”
“Who did you buy your condo from?”
“I bought it from the bank.” I smiled. “I believe the former owner might have worked for the CIA.”
“I’ll check on that while you interview the vampire.” He smiled. “I mean the werewolf.”
I wrote the address down for Blake. “Just in case I don’t come back in one piece. This is a werewolf we’re talking about.”
“The full moon is past and it’s daylight, so I’m not worried. I’m more concerned about Bernstein and Hughes. Let me know if you think they’re following you. If I see them again I’ll demand their credentials and their supervisor’s contact information.”
“Sounds like a plan, boss. I’ll be seeing you.” I hadn’t stepped two feet before I turned and asked, “Have you checked missing persons reports for a tall, muscular man? That’s the description Wilma and Gracie gave me.”
“Will do, boss.”
Blake had a way of making me smile. It might be the way his face nearly contorted out of shape at the mention of anything paranormal. I was struggling with the thought of paranormal activity where I loved to jog. The murder and a visit b
y the shadow ruined the jogging trail for me. Of course I might stretch my wings again sometime just to get a handle on how to control them. If they’re part of me I must be able to control them. I certainly can’t have them appearing out of the blue. Speaking of which, I suddenly have a hankering for chicken wings. Strange.
Twelve
At Hank’s Diner, Mable brought me a diet cola. She looked more tired than she usually did. The bags under her eyes had bags, and her mouth formed a grimace.
“I haven’t seen you for a while,” she said with what I’m sure she thought would pass for a smile.
“Are you all right, Mable? You look more tired than normal.”
“Oh, honey, I was born tired.”
“I’m worried about you, Mable.”
“I’m worried about you too, Alex.” Her brow shot up. “I heard you came in here and ordered a burger the other day. You know Hank doesn’t serve veggie burgers.”
“Actually I’m a meat eater now, but don’t tell anyone. I’ll order a dozen of Hank’s hot wings.”
“Why you gonna put trash like that in your gut? I don’t think eating meat will set well in your stomach.”
“I’m glad to know someone is worried about me,” I said quietly.
Darn it, Mable was breaking down my icy heart. It made me miss my parents all the more. Being abandoned by them so suddenly caused me to close myself off to other people and it certainly didn’t help my disposition. It made me angry. I’m still angry about it, but I had learned it’s better to not think about it.
“How about I bring you a nice garden salad,” Mable suggested.
“I’d rather have the wings.”
“And if I insist?”
“I’ll forget to leave you a tip” I smiled. Mable returned my smile and limped to the kitchen. She knew full well I’d never stiff her.
It bothered me that Mable was in pain and I felt helpless. She was obviously in too much pain to work, but like so many other people had no other choice in matter.
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