The Conspiracy of Unicorns

by Michael Angel

  I’ll admit that I was sorely tempted to give the basket a kick. To be precise, a kick down the driveway where everyone could see the fruit splatter on the pavement. Yet I didn’t. Maybe I was getting more mature. Maybe I was getting resigned to the role of ‘your friendly neighborhood monster’.

  But no, the sad truth was much simpler than that.

  I just really liked pineapple. And the two in the basket looked perfectly ripe. I picked up the neighborhood association’s ‘gift’ and put it in the passenger seat of the rental van. Then I went back up the walk and inspected what was left of the porch.

  My newly installed security system was still sound, but I’d deactivated it. The front door’s lock and one of its hinges had snapped when Grimshaw and Queen Nagura had blown out the entire side of my house. Now it dangled in place by its single remaining hinge. I just yanked it out of the way so I could get the dolly through.

  The prickly smell of dust mixed with plastic tickled my nose and left a foul taste in my mouth. Some light from the shattered wall filtered in through the thick plastic sheets, but not enough for me to search inside my rolltop desk or in my cabinets. I switched on a couple of lamps to compensate. They flickered on reluctantly, as if hesitant to illuminate the mess inside.

  I made a quick detour to my study and powered up the paper shredder by the desk. Then I gleefully minced the letter from the neighborhood association. That was followed by the pink envelope with the smiley face and the entire stack of realtor cards.

  I might have been singing a different tune had it not been for my homeowner’s insurance. For once, I had gotten some luck of the non-rotten kind. The insurance company had already informed me that they would pay for a ‘complete site teardown’ and a reasonable rebuild.

  The homeowner’s association wasn’t going to be pleased when they found out that tidbit.

  I made five squeak-punctuated trips out to the van, dropping off clothes and various other personal items without incident. After the final trip, I had just set the dolly back into its holding clip and retracted the loading ramp when I spotted a lone police cruiser. My stomach folded itself into a well-practiced knot as the cruiser turned onto my street.

  The black-and-white car purred to a stop behind the van. I made a show of casually closing the van’s rear doors before turning my attention to the car. But once again, my hand remained close to my gun until I confirmed that neither driver nor passenger was wearing sunglasses.

  That meant no Ultari, at least. But maybe McClatchy had something else nasty in store.

  The officer in the passenger seat got out first. He was a gangly redhead with a matching chinstrap beard. I didn’t recognize him, but I did know the cop that got out of the driver’s side. Officer Jackson was as dark as his partner was pale, and thick around the waist where his partner was skinny.

  “Hey there, Chrissie,” Jackson said, with a bob of his head. “Haven’t seen you since the day that someone punched Chief Sims’ ticket.”

  I remembered that day quite well. Officer Jackson and his then-partner, Ronald Clarke, had shown up right when Sims had been gunned down on the steps of LAPD headquarters. Given the tension of the moment, they’d both pulled their weapons on me until Esteban had told them to stand down.

  “Yeah, our paths just hadn’t crossed.” I nodded towards the redheaded man. “I guess that Clarke hasn’t come back to the force yet.”

  “Ron’s taking a couple weeks off. Said that he couldn’t remember what happened, but it really shook him up. He said he knows that you helped him, but he can’t say how you did it. Or what you did.”

  “I just happened to be there,” I said carefully. “But that’s in the past. What are you two gentlemen doing here? If you’re offering to help me move, you’re too late. The neighborhood association already sent me a fruit basket and everything.”

  That got a snort out of the man.

  “Actually, Officer Ullenbach and I have been assigned to keep an eye on you. We just thought you should know that we’re here to help, should anything happen.”

  I bit my lip to keep from groaning. Great. The LAPD’s gone back to shadowing me again.

  “Look, I’m sure that you’re not thrilled with this assignment,” I said. “But whatever Chief McClatchy has told you, I’m not–”

  Ullenbach’s chin twitched as he interrupted me. “The Chief didn’t assign us to you.”

  “He didn’t?”

  Jackson shook his head. “We were specifically assigned to you by our immediate commanding officer. That would be Lieutenant Ollivar.”

  That surprised me. Luis Ollivar? I thought the man liked me about as much as a case of poison oak.

  “Based on the recent discussions between Chief McClatchy and the IA, the Lieutenant felt that you still might need backup if anyone from Crossbow Consulting tried to lean on you again. Or worse.”

  As surprised as I was about this new development, a little flag waved in my mind as to something Jackson had said just a moment ago. I decided to follow it up.

  “Wait a minute. You were ‘specifically assigned’ to me by Ollivar? Why?”

  The two officers traded glances before Jackson answered.

  “We got the assignment because there’s still some…misguided feelings in the department. About you, and what happened to Maxwell Cohen.”

  Yes, that was one way to put it. I’d been pushed out of an elevator and shoved into the mud by fellow members of the LAPD. Worse would have followed that latter incident if Esteban hadn’t been there. I looked the two men right in the eyes before I spoke again.

  “So. What are your feelings?”

  Jackson didn’t flinch away from my gaze. “My partner and I feel that you’ve been unfairly smeared. Lieutenant Ollivar sees things the same way.”

  “Whoever killed Cohen was obviously after you,” Ullenbach added. “I’d say that you were right to hire him in the first place.”

  “Then I hope you understand two things,” I informed them. “I’m not playing along with your orders to shadow me. If I need to leave someplace without informing you, I don’t want Ollivar calling me on the carpet for it. And if you’re right about someone being after me…you might be putting yourselves in harm’s way.”

  “Our orders aren’t to shadow you. You’re free to come and go as you please.” Jackson declared. The man patted the handle of his gun as he added, “As far as putting ourselves in harm’s way, at least we’re better off then Cohen. We know what to expect.”

  If only you did, officer, I thought ruefully. If only you did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Late afternoon had begun shading into an orange sunset as I parked the moving van in Shelly’s driveway. I’d already decided to unload the van later, so I grabbed up a change of clothes and the fruit basket to bring inside. A hearty mechanical grumble greeted me as I stepped out and a ’67 Plymouth Barracuda pulled up to park next to my car. Esteban shut the ‘Cuda’s engine off and came around to greet me.

  “Hola, corazoncito,” he said, in the exact way that made my heart flutter. He moved to take the basket, so I could free up one of my hands. “I think you need some help with that.”

  “Just don’t tip out the pineapples,” I cautioned, right before he slipped his free arm around me. His strong hand was warm against the small of my back, and I savored the spicy scent of his cologne. “Hold on a sec–”

  That was all I got out before he moved in and planted a sweet, firm kiss on my lips. A fiery tingle shot through my body as I responded by opening my mouth, teasing his tongue with mine. I couldn’t help it. Like any good lover, he’d figured out my buttons. We finally came up for air, though I felt more than a little out of breath.

  “You were saying?” he asked, his voice a tad husky with lust.

  “Well, I didn’t exactly want to put on a show…” I turned and gave a thumbs-up to the darkened car that sat parked at the edge of Shelly’s cul-de-sac. The two cops inside responded by blinking the police cruiser’s headlights
a couple of times. “But it looks like we impressed them.”

  “The hell?” Esteban scowled in their direction. “Who’s out there? Did McClatchy pin a tail on you again?”

  “That’s Jackson and Ullenbach. Luis Ollivar assigned them to watch over me.”

  “Well, I hope they enjoyed the show,” he huffed. “Then again…those two are okay. They’re not part of the ‘let’s pile on Dayna’ group.”

  I nodded. “It’s pretty much what they told me when I spoke to them. The Lieutenant told them not to interfere with me or report back if I need to leave someplace in a hurry. So, I’m guessing that Ollivar isn’t in the anti-Chrissie cheering section either.”

  Esteban flashed a quick smile. “Didn’t I tell you that Luis was a decent guy at heart?”

  “My jury’s still out on that one. But his stock just went up a point or two.”

  Personally, I didn’t think that Ollivar had suddenly decided to sign up for my personal fan club. It was more that he’d been present at a couple of occasions where I’d confronted McClatchy. He’d seen just how strangely the Chief had been behaving. If I had to guess, he was starting to regret putting all his money on one horse. Especially if that horse was slowly going what Shelly called ‘loco in the coco’.

  Speaking of Shelly, I looked up the driveway to where a cheery light shone from her house’s front windows. I took an extra-deep inhale as something scrumptious wafted past on the breeze. My nose picked up traces of green chile and roasting corn.

  “That’s making my mouth water!” Esteban exclaimed, as he sniffed the air. “I hope your guest arrives soon, I want to get my taste buds next to whatever that is.”

  Alanzo laced his arm around mine and I leaned into him as we went up to the front door. The lights grew brighter, blotting out the darkness behind us. From inside, I heard someone speaking, and then Shelly’s gentle Southern laugh in reply.

  “It sounds like they’re already here,” I said.

  Esteban’s eyebrows rose at my words. He lengthened his stride as we went inside and walked through the house’s main hallway. Shelly’s place was all warm reds and yellows inside, decorated with elements of country crockery, copper cookware, and pictures of prize chickens.

  We paused for a moment by the guest bedroom I’d more-or-less claimed for now, so I could drop off my bundle of clothing. Then we made our way to the house’s grand country-style kitchen. Shelly looked up from where she was adding one last pinch of spice to a steaming pot. She beamed as she saw us come in.

  “Well, as I live and breathe,” she chortled. “I knew that you’d show up when the food got done. Or within shouting range of it, anyhow.”

  I came over and gave my friend a hug. She embraced me warmly and then bestowed a similar hug on Esteban. He winced a little as she did so.

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” Shelly apologized, as she let him go. “I forgot that you were still healing up. How’re you doing, Alanzo?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he said, brushing it off. “I’m making progress. Instead of my back being one big bruise, it’s now a bunch of smaller bruises competing for my attention.”

  Shelly let out a mother’s long-suffering sigh. “If you’re hurting, maybe my guest can help sort you out.”

  She nodded off to the side. Esteban turned towards Shelly’s dining room table, which had been laid out with western-themed placemats, silverware, and a trivet designed to look like a Conestoga wagon wheel. But that wasn’t all.

  Perched delicately atop one of the dining room chairs was a large horned owl, her smooth feathers the distinct shade of orange sherbet. Her taloned feet were old and gnarled, but the look in her eyes was clear and sharp. A brightly polished medallion hung by a silver chain around her neck. She canted her head slightly, observing the new arrivals.

  “Alanzo,” Shelly said grandly, “I’d like you to meet Albess Thea of Andeluvia. Albess, this is Alanzo Esteban. He’s a detective with the LAPD, or so I’ve heard around work. More importantly, he’s Dayna’s main squeeze.”

  Thea shifted from one heavy foot to the other as she spoke in the tone of an amused grandmother. “I am not sure what a ‘main squeeze’ is. Yet given how Dayna speaks of you, it must be important. It is an honor, young man.”

  Esteban simply stared in awe. “I, uh, I’m honored too. Ma’am.”

  The Albess let out a good-natured ‘hoo!’ before adding, “Alas, I am not the healer that Shelly of Richard’s Son claims. It is she who brought me back from the brink.”

  “I think they both did some of the work,” I put in.

  Thea made a quick bow to me. “Dame Chrissie, it is always sunshine through heavy cloud when I see you.”

  I bowed back. “Likewise, Albess. You look good, I’m just glad that you could make it.”

  “Thanks to the Court Wizard, travel was easy.” She bobbed her head, making the chain jingle. “And even if it were a difficult feat, I would have made it to see my friend Shelly once more.”

  “Y’all are going to make me blush, Albess,” Shelly demurred. She made one final adjustment to the stove and then pointed at Esteban’s burden. “Someone brought us some fruit! Let’s have that basket, I’m sure I can slice up those pears to make ‘em nice and pretty.”

  “Can I put in a request for some pineapple chunks?” I asked. “Or spears, I’m not fussy.”

  “I can do that,” she replied, as Esteban handed over the basket. She peered inside, carried it over to the counter, and began laying out the contents. “Alanzo, you’ve got some good taste in gift baskets.”

  Esteban gave her a sheepish look. “I didn’t think about bringing anything. The basket’s from Dayna.”

  “It’s actually from my wonderful neighborhood association,” I said, with a wry tone. “They left it on my front porch. Along with a stack of realtor’s cards and a letter telling me that I ought to move somewhere else.”

  Shelly shook her head. “Well, ain’t that neighborly. The Lord’ll have a word with them at the end of things, you can count on it.”

  Albess Thea craned her neck from her perch as she watched Shelly work. She fluffed out her feathers and let out a ‘hoo!’ as she spoke again.

  “How marvelous! You have something there which reminds me of my favorite food! Would that be a ‘mouse’ fruit?”

  That sparked my own sense of curiosity.

  “Which item are you talking about?” I asked.

  “Your favorite food is mouse?” Esteban exclaimed, at the same time.

  “Mouse is the favored food of all the Hoohan,” Thea replied. “It is nutritious, abundant, delicious, crunchy, and best of all – it can be used in so many dishes!”

  I swallowed hard. “Yeah, she’s not kidding about that part.”

  Shelly laughed and held up a small, brown fuzzy object. “Oh, you mean this little critter! This is a ‘kiwi’, Miss Thea. I never thought of it before, but it does look a little mouse-like.”

  “I should like to try it,” Thea said delicately. “Perhaps it will make the topics of our conversation go down more smoothly.”

  “Which topics are those?” Esteban inquired. “You make it sound like there’s trouble brewing.”

  The Albess fluffed her feathers out as if she’d shuddered from cold. “Dame Chrissie asked me to return for a ‘medical checkup’ with Shelly of Richard’s Son. But staying for dinner is not merely a social event. Rather, we all need to know what game is afoot in this world and mine. The appearance of a wyvern queen is a sign of things to come. End times, perhaps.”

  Esteban and Shelly both turned to look at me. I nodded grimly. I had news that everyone here had only heard about in bits and pieces, if at all. Leave it to Dayna to be bringer of dark clouds to a happy dinner party.

  No wonder I never got invited anywhere for my wonderful personality.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Dinner came in a quartet of blue-rimmed bowls heaped with a meaty concoction Shelly called ‘Chili WMD’. Supposedly, the ‘WMD’ stood for ‘Weapon o
f Maximum Deliciousness’. All I knew was that the peppery steam alone cleared out my nasal passages and nearly set Esteban to drooling. I swirled the angry-looking reddish substance with my spoon, checking the utensil a couple of times to make sure that the silver hadn’t dissolved.

  For all that, I didn’t hesitate to dig in. After all, I was Dame Chrissie. I was an Andeluvian noblewoman who’d chowed her way through no less than a whole mouse tart. I popped a spoonful in my mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

  The diced peppers made my tongue sit up and take notice. Yet the heat wasn’t painful, and I found myself eagerly digging in. Thea held her spoon easily in one set of talons and took a cautious snap at the contents. Shelly grinned as the Albess made a ‘hoo!’ and finished her spoonful in three more snaps of her beak.

  “This is really good, Shelly,” I said, between bites.

  “Good?” Esteban chimed in. “Better than good. This is just like what my tía makes.”

  My friend beamed. “I was hopin’ that you’d like it. Won three county fairs with this recipe. At the last one, I went backstage to find the judge sopping up the rest of the pot with a spare piece of cornbread.”

  Conversation was muted for a bit as we worked out way through chili, miniature tortilla cups filled with corn salsa, and chips served with guacamole and pico de gallo. Just when I was ready to loosen my belt a notch, Shelly brought out a fresh-cut fruit salad made from the contents of the basket I’d brought over. Best of all, she’d made some artful cuts to the kiwis to give them mouse ears and eyes.

  The Albess eagerly snatched one up, crunching her way through the green, seedy kiwi flesh. Thea quickly finished the portion in her talons, though her expression was one of disappointment.

  “I suppose that it is good enough,” she said. “But it hardly tastes as mouse-like as it looks.”

  “Few things do, I’m afraid,” Shelly commiserated.