Mystic Pieces

by Ada Bell

  “I didn’t,” I said. “Not really. I just met him this afternoon. But also, like, I saw him this afternoon. He was walking and talking and breathing. He seemed so alive.” Also throwing a fit, but that didn’t seem worth mentioning at the moment. “How did you know him?”

  “He’s in my bowling league,” Kevin said. Ah. Well, that at least explained why Earl had looked familiar. A couple of times when Kevin had random Saturday afternoon races or meets or whatever, I’d brought Kyle to the bowling alley to run around in the arcade. “Or at least, he was. Best in the league. Now that honor goes to Wendy Diaz. She bowled eleven perfect games last year, but then her Pit Bull, Fluffykins, got sick. She missed the finals. You must remember me talking about it.”

  So much information was provided in that one paragraph, but I got that my brother’s head must be spinning as much as mine. Probably more, since he had a relationship with the guy. “What happened?”

  “Too much grass, maybe. Or spending all day outside in the sun. I’m not sure.”

  That made no sense at all. Earl died from eating grass in the sun in January? Then I realized, my brother thought I was asking about the dog.

  “Yeah, okay. But also, what happened to Earl?”

  “No one knows,” Kevin said. “According to Wendy, every Wednesday, he eats lunch at Patti’s Diner. She’s a server there. He orders the same thing, always tips fifteen percent rounded up. When he finishes lunch, he usually lingers, but Patti said he left early today to run an errand. She didn’t know what it was.”

  “You already talked to Patti? When did you leave the bowling alley?”

  “She was there. Patti’s in my league. You’d know that if you ever came with me.”

  “If I came with you, you’d need to pay for a baby-sitter. Plus all the toes I’d break because I don’t know how to bowl. Tell me more.”

  “I don’t know much else,” he said. “He was supposed to have dinner with his next-door neighbor, Thelma. Apparently they do that a few times a week. He didn’t show up, so she went looking for him. She knocked, then noticed the kitchen door was ajar.”

  “Did she run as fast as possible in the other direction? Because that’s what a smart person would do.” Or anyone who had ever watched a horror movie.

  Kevin chuckled. “You’ve clearly never met Thelma. She claims she just snuck a peek, but if I know her, she probably slammed the door open and waltzed in, shouting his name. No matter, the killer was gone. She found Earl lying face down on the kitchen table. Blood everywhere.”

  One hand went to my mouth. The primary reason I changed my major from pre-Med to biology was a strong aversion to blood. Like, I needed to watch horror movies peeking through my fingers. Tending Kyle’s scrapes nauseated me. Graphic descriptions of death scenes were way beyond my comfort zone. Even though I’d never met Thelma, I felt bad for her. No one deserved to stumble onto a crime scene while delivering dinner.

  “Oh, no. That’s horrible. Can you imagine what it would be like to walk in and find someone de—.” In horror, I realized what I’d been about to say. My brother didn’t have to imagine, because it happened to him. Only it wasn’t his neighbor, it was his wife. “Oh, Kev. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I know,” he said shortly. He closed his eyes for a long moment. “It’s okay. Let’s just go to bed.”

  There was nothing else to say, so I just put my arm around him and let him lean against my shoulder. When he pulled away, I turned toward the stairs. “What do you need right now?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Just some rest. It’s been a long day.”

  A long day indeed. I barely managed to brush my teeth and climb into bed before falling asleep.

  Next thing I knew, my bedroom door swung open, and a small torpedo landed on the comforter beside me. “Aunt Aly!”

  “‘Mmmph.” I wrapped my arms around Kyle’s tiny neck while glaring at my brother in the doorway. “Isn’t it your turn to get him?”

  Kevin laughed. “That I did. An hour ago.”

  “We made waffles!”

  Waffles? I looked at my brother for confirmation. “To celebrate your new job. And coffee.”

  Coffee. Yeeeeesssss. I pushed up and swung my legs over the side of the bed.

  “Hug!” Kyle demanded from his spot beside me.

  How could anyone say no to those big eyes asking for a hug in that tiny voice? I reached for him, and he leaned into me. Most people hugged with their arms, but Kyle hugged with his whole heart. Toddler snuggles were absolutely the best thing in the world.

  Five minutes later, we finally made it downstairs, where to my delight there really was a pile of fresh waffles and a pot of coffee sitting on the kitchen table. “Oh, this is wonderful! You shouldn’t have.”

  “I didn’t,” Kevin said proudly. “This is all Kyle. He planned the whole thing.”

  “You made me waffles?”

  Kyle beamed up at me. “Daddy ironed them.”

  The phrasing made me chuckle. “Daddy’s a good helper, isn’t he?”

  “Not as good as you,” Kevin said behind me. “Seriously. We wanted you know how much we appreciate you. You’ve done so much for us.”

  I gave him an awkward one-armed hug. “I did what anyone would’ve. We’re family.”

  Once we were all seated, I took a big mouthful of waffles. “Oh, wow.”

  This kid was so talented. I didn’t even have to pretend to enjoy the meal. For several minutes, we focused on our breakfasts. Normally I ate a piece of toast or two slathered with Nutella, so strawberry waffles with whipped cream were quite the treat.

  When our plates were so clean they might’ve been licked (and, okay, Kyle’s definitely had been), Kevin excused himself to go upstairs. He’d been quiet throughout the meal, and I knew Earl’s death weighed heavily on his mind. I watched him go, wondering how things might be different if Katrina were still alive.

  My nephew looked at me seriously over his waffles. “You look sad.”

  I leaned over and ruffled his hair. “Everything’s fine. I’m thinking about how much I’m going to miss you when you’re at school and I’m at work.”

  “Work is good for the soul,” he announced. “Daddy said.”

  I laughed and slung back the rest of my coffee. “Sounds like your father. That man loves what he does. Let’s get going.”

  Kyle’s preschool was closed for the morning for teacher training, so I planned for us to visit the campus bookstore. Maloney College wasn’t the most obvious destination for a niece-nephew outing in late January, but I needed to familiarize myself with the layout before classes started. Also, I’d learned the hard way that I preferred to page through used books before committing. My first year of community college, someone had made pornographic sketches in the margins of my Calculus book. Still didn’t make math sexy. And my geology book? Every single word was highlighted.

  Dude, if it’s all important, none of it is important. I saw yellow spots every time I closed my eyes for three months.

  The bookstore sat on the edge of campus, next to the gym and not far from the history building. According to the map on the University website, the science building was at the end of the path, which wound around for about a mile.

  I hesitated before pulling Kyle out of his car seat. “Do you want to ride in the stroller?”

  He glared at me. “I’m not a baby!”

  “True, but it’s a lot of walking. You might get tired.”

  “I walk.”

  To be honest, I had my doubts, but we’d be starting at the bookstore. Since I had no intention of lugging my purchases all over campus, I could always grab the stroller when I came back to drop them off. Sometimes it wasn’t worth arguing with a three-year-old.

  I set him on the ground to get him into the coat he couldn’t wear while strapped into his car seat. Some days, I swore I would dedicate my post-college studies to making a jacket that toddlers could wear in the c
ar. Or a carseat that’s effectiveness wasn’t impacted by clothing necessary in huge portions of the country for several months each year.

  Kyle lunged away from me. “Ball!”

  What?

  Oh. Across the aisle, a guy about my age was struggling to load an arm full of stuff into his trunk. A basketball thudded to the pavement and rolled toward us. Kyle took three steps toward it before I caught him. “Stop! We have to look both ways, remember?”

  My nephew pointed. “Ball?”

  “That’s right. It’s his ball. That guy. Not ours.”

  The guy in question turned and smiled at me as the ball rolled close enough for Kyle to grab it. He picked it up and turned it in his hands for a moment before chucking it down the road. “Uh-oh!”

  I stifled a laugh as it sailed by the owner. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head with a bemused smile that widened when he turned to me. His brown eyes sparkled with laughter, and… he was wearing shorts and a tank top. In January. In upstate New York.

  “Aren’t you cold?” I blurted out, completely forgetting about the ball. Kyle ran after it a second time. Now that I could see there weren’t any other cars, I let him. “Sorry. That was rude.”

  “No, it’s cool. I was just practicing,” he said. “I’m on the basketball team, and we’ve got a big game next week.”

  The ball sailed by us a second time, now flying in the opposite direction. Life with a toddler led to some very disjointed adult conversations. I motioned for Kyle to come back to me and, thankfully, he did it. There was always like a seventy-seven percent chance he’d do whatever he wanted and ignore me.

  “Stay with me,” I said. To the guy, I said, “Sorry about that. We’ll go get it.”

  “It’s fine,” he said. “I’ve been chasing balls all day. What’s one more?”

  “Consider it a cool down.”

  “Just what I needed.” Now this was the life. Chatting with random guys in parking lots, buying books, exploring campus. Not a murderer in sight. This was what I wanted—a normal life. Not visions and dead bodies. “I’m Brad.”

  “Aly. This is my nephew, Kyle.”

  “You a student here?”

  “Not yet. I’m starting mid-term.”

  He motioned to the car. “Sweet ride.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “I couldn’t afford a car like this in a million years. It belongs to my brother.”

  Beside me, my nephew tugged at my hand, clearly tired of this conversation. “I poop!”

  “Okay, one minute.” To Brad, I said, “Sorry, we’ve got to find a bathroom. It’s a long drive from Shady Grove.”

  “You’re from Shady Grove? You guys hear about the murder?”

  Yes. Not that I wanted to talk about it in front of a three-year-old.

  “What’s murda, Aunt Aly?”

  Awesome. Thanks, Brad. “It’s just a word for when something bad happens to someone.”

  On that note, it was time to get going. So much for avoiding people who just wanted to know the grisly details. I gripped Kyle’s hand and turned toward the bookstore. “It was nice meeting you, Brad.”

  “You, too. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  In high school, the science kids and the jocks didn’t spend much time together, but it was a nice thought. “Sure. Maybe.”

  Kyle had been standing still long enough. He trotted willingly beside me down the path, up the steps to the library’s entrance. Thankfully, the restroom was right near the front doors. I didn’t want to carry my nephew all over the building while he desperately tried not to poop on me. Potty training was so much fun.

  Fifteen minutes later, we’d finished using the potty, washing our hands, and carefully avoiding the hand dryers. Those things were terrifying for small children. I’d learned the hard way to carry a hand towel in my bag. Two minutes after that, we made it to the row selling science textbooks. I ran my finger lovingly along the shelves, feeling right at home among all the multi-syllable words. Going back to school had been the right idea.

  After a moment, I bent down to pull a used Molecular Biology textbook that didn’t look too battered. For a long moment, I tested the weight in my hands before holding the binding to my nose and taking a deep breath. Ahh.

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved Kevin, I loved Kyle, and Shady Grove was a nice place. But being here felt like coming home. I missed school, I missed learning. I missed that feeling of being exactly where I was supposed to be, doing exactly what I was supposed to do.

  My old life beckoned, and more than anything, I wanted to slide back into it. A life of facts and experiments and no one pooping on me and no random psychic visions.

  Opening the book, I flipped through the pages, looking for inappropriate markings or excessive highlights. The words swam.

  Pulsing lights filled my vision, and music pounded in my ears. A line of white powder lay on the open book in front of me.

  Chapter 6

  A shriek escaped me. I dropped the book, jumping backward. As soon as it hit the ground, the world went back to normal. My body was still shaking, though. What was going on?

  I seriously needed to figure out what was happening to me, fast. I couldn’t go through life worried that anything I touched might send me a random vision. Was the vision trying to tell me something? Who owned the book? Did they need my help? Or was it just a random moment in the life of the prior owner?

  “Are you okay?” An amused voice spoke from behind me. “I know some people hate my class, but I’ve never seen anyone throw the book before.”

  Turning, I spotted a woman in her late forties. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, a long, pointed nose, and full lips that twitched as if she was trying not to laugh.

  “Your book?”

  “I’m Professor Zimm. I’ll be teaching Molecular Biology and Cellular Biology this spring.”

  “Oh!” A smile spread across my face. “It’s great to meet you! I’m Aly Reynolds. I mean, the roll sheet will say Aluminum, but please never, ever call me that. I’m so excited about your class. The book… um… startled me.”

  Beside me, Kyle picked up the book and handed it back to me. “Book?”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” No chance of me buying that one. Awkwardly, I put it on the shelf before grabbing a pristine, new copy. It cost three times more, but if it came without the side of partying, I’d suck it up and ask Olive for some extra hours at the store.

  She squinted at me. “Hello! Who are you?”

  “This is my nephew, Kyle.”

  “I love your shirt! Is that a dog?”

  He gave her a withering look. “It’s Elmo.”

  “Shh! Be polite,” I said.

  Professor Zimm’s face turned red as she spoke to me again. “Sorry. I misplaced my glasses earlier. I can barely see.”

  “Murda glasses?”

  If I ever saw Brad again, I was going to kick him in the knees for that one. To her credit, Professor Zimm seemed unconcerned. “No, I didn’t murder my glasses. I’m sure I’ll find them.”

  Reaching out, Kyle touched her hand. He gazed up at my professor solemnly. “Potty.”

  “Do you need to go to the bathroom again?” I asked.

  He shook his head and pointed at the professor. “Glasses. Potty.”

  Okay, this was getting weird. Time to take the three-year-old home. Maybe with a stop for Happy Meals and a talk about words that should never, ever be repeated.

  “Huh. You know, I was in the restroom earlier. You don’t think…?” Professor Zimm spoke slowly.

  “We just came from there. It’s possible Kyle saw a pair of glasses on the counter.” I didn’t notice anything, but I was also juggling a portable potty seat and post-it notes and extra pants and Pull-Ups, whereas my nephew didn’t have to focus on much other than leaning forward to get his pee in the potty instead of on the back of the stall door.

  “I’ll go check. It was nice meeting you,” she said.r />
  “You, too. I’ll see you in class.”

  “Did I murda your tee-cher?” Kyle asked as she walked away.

  I sighed and shook my head. People said small town life wasn’t interesting, but Shady Grove certainly never bored me.

  Two hours later, after leaving Kyle with Mrs. Patel, I once again stood outside the front door of Missing Pieces. The Help Wanted sign had vanished, but everything else looked the same. The whole town looked the same. Not like the first murder in two decades happened less than twelve hours ago. I’d looked it up over breakfast.

  Inside, Olive looked well-rested and full of life. I eyed her for a moment before carefully asking how she was feeling. Maybe she hadn’t heard the news.

  “Oh, I slept like a baby,” she said. “Took a pill after Maria told me what happened to Earl. Went out like a light.”

  “Maria?”

  “My wife.”

  Right. Olive had mentioned yesterday that she was married. “How did she find out?”

  “She’s on Earl’s bowling team. When he didn’t show up to practice, people started to talk. He didn’t answer his phone, so she called Thelma.”

  Did the entire town hang out at We All Fall Down after work? Was I missing out by not being there? I filed that away under “Things to ask about when I am bored enough to want to learn to bowl.” Group sports weren’t my thing. Neither was being coordinated or leaving the house when I didn’t have to, especially in winter.

  Between learning the inventory and store policies, the afternoon went by quickly. We had steady business, but not so much I couldn’t get time to breathe. Before I knew it, two hours had passed and I was exhausted. The store had cleared about briefly, but the floor near the door was a mess of salt and sludge from all the traffic we’d gotten. I grabbed a mop and a “wet floor” sign and went to fix it.

  “When you finish that, why don’t you take a break? We’ve been busy.”

  “Thanks,” I said gratefully. As badly as I wanted to tell her to go first, I was tired and hadn’t had time for lunch after dropping Kyle off. I could really use a sandwich and a few minutes to myself. I hadn’t told her yet what happened at the university bookstore.