The Good Lady (Alice the Fallen Mystery Book 1)

by K. H. Pope

  “So, what is it going to be, Alice? Are you going to take off the binding spell or what? It’s the only way I can help you.”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  Unbinding Tip is as simple as holding both of his hands for a few seconds and mentally willing it away from him. The binding appears as floating silver dust, and the change within him is instantaneous.

  Tip puckers his stained red lips, but I decline his crazy show of thanks. I have to give it to the kid. He never gives up when it comes to women, never.

  “I need your phone number,” I remark.

  He tells me his digits, and I add it to my contacts. Then he begins tracking down addresses for Lana’s brother, Jeff Wells, and Max’s wife. It takes him no more than ten minutes, and he’s also found two abandoned stores I enter through for both locations. So glad I made this stop. I feel like I’m on track.

  “I’ll be in contact.” I stand up.

  “No kiss good-bye?”

  “Tip, you have lipstick on and around your lips, and you’re sweaty.”

  “Can I get a hug instead?”

  “Uh, no.”

  On my way to the bathroom, I give Sigurd one last look. He’s worried and has every right to be. The danger for Tip is very real, but I hope it can be avoided.

  CHAPTER 8

  I come out of a looted grocery store. The shelves are knocked over, and all the windows except the one closest to the door are boarded up. I step through it, being careful not to touch the broken glass sticking out the frames. The late afternoon sun is bright with painted red clouds against the southern sky. The road right outside the store has heavy traffic, and much to my surprise, it’s moving.

  A crackling sound grabs my attention. To the north, behind the store and a wall of trees, is black bellowing smoke. I can hear what sounds like screaming and automatic gunfire. Jeff’s house is in that direction. Great, wonder what I’ll be walking into now.

  Jeff resides in a one story rambler in Hosston, Louisiana, close to Black Bayou Lake, which is fifteen to twenty minutes west of Plain Dealing. From what I can remember, he’s single with no kids. He looks like a regular guy, not really fit or handsome. He’s sweet, when he wants to be, but he’s sneaky, too. Lana has spoken about Jeff’s gambling habits, which has brought him close to bankruptcy more than twice. She saves him, even though she claims that she wouldn’t do it after the last time. She can’t help herself. Lana will always do all she can for her brother, regardless of the trouble he gets into.

  Finally, after less than a half mile up the road, I see people standing in the street. Houses on both sides are burning. The trees are catching, as well. I hear gunshots again, and two people fall to the ground. Right then, I realize most of them have their hands up in the air. Men with black stocking caps over their heads have rifles pointed at these people. Multiple shots goes off once more, and several other people fall to their death. I stand at the side of the road in disbelief. They must be members from the Fellowship. I’ve never met anyone from that group. At least, not knowingly, and now I’m looking at five of them.

  One of them starts yelling commands. They begin walking away from me, deeper into the neighborhoods. Two have gas cans. They’re going to burn down other homes and kill other people. I can’t let that happen.

  I check my surroundings to see if there are more of them. After waiting a few short moments and thinking about what’s best to do, I decide to take cover in the forest. I can hide in there until I have to get back on the road. Quickly, I head in their direction. My heart is racing, and I’m pissed off because they’re killing people that has nothing to do with their cause. For centuries, I’ve witnessed acts where the enraged consumes everything around them. No one is ever immune or safe, even their own meet their demise as a martyr. And after eons, man continues to devour their own. Well, now I can do something. I can stop this small group in front of me, and they better hope I’ll be able to find compassion.

  When I get to the first front yard, I run into a dead woman. She’s face down. Her brains blown out the back of her head, creating a bloody mess on her body and the grass around her. I keep going, moving faster. Her remains stays with me. Wailing and ringing begins in my head. The sounds of the past and the burning smells of the present are mingling mercilessly within me and is making me angrier with each footstep I take. Before I realize it, I’m running.

  I actually get to within ten yards of them before the tallest guy realizes I’m behind them. He stops and taps the guy beside him. They all turn around. Only their hands, eyes, and necks can be seen. Two are women. One of them takes aim immediately, and I will their rifles out of their grasps and hold them right over their heads. I don’t even have to look up or concentrate on the weapons. My focus is squarely on the color of their eyes.

  The tallest guy in the middle wants to charge me. Two are set to run away. The other two are just standing there in shock.

  “You’re one of them,” the tallest man says. His voice brings the wailing and ringing in my head to a dull sound.

  “Walk away,” I calmly remark.

  “We’re not afraid of you.” The tallest squares his stance.

  I flip the weapons while still in midair to where the muzzles are facing them. Then I will one of the weapons to fire at the feet of the tallest. A single shot is all I need to get them all running. They scatter into the forests, none of them looking back. And thank goodness the sounds in my head are gone, too.

  I look up at the automatic weapons and wonder what I’m going to do with them. Until I can think of something, they’ll have to float and follow me.

  When I get back to Jeff’s house, I’m disappointed to see that it’s fully engulfed in flames. None of the dead bodies in the street are him. If he was inside the house, then he’s gone. I can only hope he wasn’t.

  Since there’s nothing I can do to clean up the deaths those careless idiots left behind, I head back to the store with the automatic rifles still floating behind me. Instead of going to the front, where travelers could see and possibly be frightened, I decide to use the back door to the store to call the transfer chamber. The door is locked, but that’s not a problem. I put my hand on the knob, say the words, and turn it. The white room is there, and I enter it with the rifles. I place them one by one on the floor beside me and will the door to close. I look around at the room and resolve the rifles can stay in the transfer chamber until I can think of a permanent place to put them. I’m the only one that uses this particular one. So no one will bother them.

  But as for right now, I have to see Max’s wife before it gets to be too late in the evening.

  CHAPTER 9

  The apartment building that Julie Sullivan lives in is a horrible place. The hallway reeks of fecal matter and the metallic smell of blood. Both ends of the corridor is open to the outside, which funnels the wind, making the smell worse. It’s dark in some spots, barely lit in others, and some doors are spray painted with a symbol. Two short horizontal lines with a long slanted one going through both, and it’s in bright red. The Fellowship, but I wonder why the symbol is on some doors and not on the others.

  I’m about to head for the stairwell when two young boys burst out of an apartment two doors down. Both have duffle bags over their shoulders. They’re about to run in my direction, but when they see me, they immediately change directions and head the opposite way. A man comes out of the apartment and shoots at them with a shotgun. The boys make it to the end of the corridor, and they take off in different directions once they’re outside. The man is not far behind, and he’s gone within seconds, too. The quiet returns, as if nothing has happened.

  My curiosity gets the best of me. I slowly walk over to the entrance of the open apartment and peep inside. The television is riddled with bullet holes. Paper is all over the place. The kitchen table is toppled over, and a bloody dead body is folded on its back out of a window. His legs are inside, feet not touching the floor. Those kids probably robbed the man, and there’s no telling how
the one hanging out the window was involved.

  I decide to move on before Shotgun comes back. I’m sure I’ll be next if he finds me looking into his apartment. I rush over to the stairway and run the three flights up. Julie’s apartment is four doors away from the stairway entrance, but before I head for the door, I check the hallway to make sure I’m not walking into trouble. A baby is crying. Car alarms are going off somewhere outside, and sirens can be heard in the far distance. Another gunshot. I wonder if that guy caught up with those kids. Not my business. I can’t save everyone.

  Lightly, I knock on apartment 3C and stand back from the door so Julie can see me. There’s no sounds coming from inside. I put my ear to the door and listen. No vibrations, no voices, or music. She’s not home. I turn the locked knob, willing it to release. Before going inside, I do one more quick scan of the hallway. It’s clear.

  Once I’m in and the door is closed and locked, I look around at the living room. It’s surprisingly neat and very clean, considering the apartment building common areas are filthy. I’m sure Julie is trying to keep some sense of normalcy in the chaotic world she has to live in.

  I try to think of where a detective would begin. I spot a desk against the wall, right next to the entrance to the kitchen, and that’s where I start. On the desk is a stack of papers in a tray. I start thumbing through them, and I see that they are Max’s cell phone bills. I also find a check signed by a woman name Jackie Mitchelson. It’s made out to Maxim Sullivan LLC. I wonder what kind of company he’s operating. I turn my attention to the computer, and hit the enter key. A field pops up requesting a password. I’ll have to ask Tip to access this thing remotely. I have to know what Max does for a living.

  Under the computer screen, I happen to notice a torn piece of paper with a phone number, but there isn’t a name attached to it. There is also a day planner. I open it, and inside are two different names on two different dates. Jackie Mitchelson is written down on Saturday, June 22, 2019 at 11:00 a.m. The next date is Tuesday, June 25th, and the name Evelyn Crowe is written on it with 3:00 p.m. underlined twice. Those dates were last week, and they are his last written entries. I decide to take the planner, the torn note, and the phone bill.

  I venture into the kitchen and take a cursory look. The room is just as clean as the living room and nothing sticks out. I walk right back out. No reason to search in there. The two bedrooms and a bathroom are down the short hallway. The beds are made, bathroom is clean. The apartment looks like no one has been home for days, but ironically, it feels like it has been cared for the whole time.

  Just as I return to the living room, Julie Sullivan walks in, and she notices me after closing the door. She’s scared. I remain where I stand in hopes that she won’t panic.

  “Who the hell are you?” she asks while hugging a plastic bag. “I got nothing of value.”

  “Julie, my name is Alice,” I answer politely.

  “How do you know me?”

  “I’m looking for Max.”

  She looks at me suspiciously. “Are you a cop?”

  “No,” I remark with a chuckle. “I’m a friend of Lana Wells.”

  “Oh,” she says with a huff. “Well, you’re in the wrong place. You won’t find Max or Lana here.”

  “When was the last time you saw your husband?”

  She pushes her brown hair behind her ears and shrugs. “I don’t know.”

  Julie isn’t being straight with me. She’s avoiding eye contact, fidgeting where she stands.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “What did I just say?” she says, moving away from the door. “I have no idea, and-and you need to leave. I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you.”

  “I’m not leaving,” I say firmly. “Not until you answer my questions.”

  “Why don’t I call the police and see what they say about that?”

  “Call them,” I say as I cross my arms. “You know they won’t come, not even for a dead body.”

  “I want you to leave.”

  “Just a few questions,” I remark. “That’s it.”

  Julie blows out impatiently and says, “Fine.”

  “When was the last time you spoke to Max?”

  “Friday morning,” she answers evenly.

  “Did he call you anytime during the day?”

  “No.”

  “What was his schedule on Friday?”

  “He went to St. Eligius and then to Viking. Probably had a couple of clients he had to go see after that, and I’m sure him and Lana spent the rest of the day together.”

  That last bit of information throws me for a loop. I try not to venture on that one just yet. “What does Max do for a living?”

  “Look, I want you to leave. I’m done answering your questions.”

  “Julie-”

  “Stop! Okay. You’re not trying to find Max. You’re only trying to find Lana. Everyone thinks she’s so perfect and all that. I can’t stand her. Miss feed-the-homeless, Miss do-no-wrong-to-her-fellow-mankind. She puts on a little show for everyone like she’s some saint, but she’s a fake. She’s sleeping with my husband, and she knows I’m pregnant.”

  I’m speechless. I wasn’t expecting Julie to go off like that.

  “You want to know what happened to Max? He ran off with her, and they’re living it up in another country somewhere.” She wipes the tears away with her hands.

  Obviously, I’ve hit a wall. Julie isn’t going to help me. She feels betrayed and abandoned.

  I try one more thing. “Can you look at this piece of paper and tell me who that number belongs to?”

  She looks away. I’m not going to push her.

  “I’ll leave my number if you want to talk later.” I write it down on a piece of paper beside the computer and leave it there. Carefully, I leave the apartment, keeping my eye on her. She may look like a rail and helpless, but people like her have been underestimated. I’m not making that mistake.

  As I’m going back down the stairs, I think about what Julie said about Lana and Max. There’s no way, but I wonder. Have I been wrong about Lana this whole time? Perhaps, I really don’t know her at all.

  CHAPTER 10

  “You want a slice?” Tip asks while shoving the pizza in my face.

  “No, I’m good,” I remark. “Where did you get all of these laptops?”

  In front of us on the coffee table are five of them, all lined up. One is searching the Magi Elite Police Protective Unit database for Lily Fawlke. The second computer has the name of the person that the unknown number belongs to. Her name is Evelyn Crowe, the same name that’s in the planner. The third screen has a list of names and places from Max’s phone. He called someone at St. Eligius, Julie, Jackie Mitchelson, and Lana. Most of the phone calls lasted no more than a minute. The fourth screen has Jeff Wells’ website, and the last one is trying to access Max’s home computer.

  I called Evelyn’s number, but it goes directly to voicemail. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stay on long enough to leave a message. I spoke to the husband of Jackie Mitchelson, also. He said that she was killed during an explosion. I didn’t get any more details. Her husband hung up on me.

  With a mouthful of food, he answers, “I’ve always had these computers. I just don’t use them very often.”

  “Can you chew your food first before you answer?”

  “Sorry,” Tip says as he places his pizza on a plate between us. He wipes his hands on his pants and reaches for a napkin behind the laptops to wipe his face. I know he has better manners, but I’m not going to say anything else about it.

  “So,” I remark, “tell me what’s up with the search for Lily Fawlke.”

  “Nothing as of yet as you can see, but the program will keep on searching until it gets a hit. The Magi Elite Protective Unit has a huge database, bigger than I thought.”

  “Will they be able to track you?”

  “Nope,” he says calmly.

  “Tip, I don’t want to get you in trouble.”


  “I’m good at what I do, Alice. Don’t worry. Getting back to when you were back at Jeff’s house. Five people were dressed in all black. They didn’t try to kill themselves after they burned down those houses?”

  I’ve partially told Tip what happened with my visits to Jeff’s neighborhood and Julie’s apartment, but he was distracted when his pizza finished cooking. The conversation was cut short so he could fix his plate.

  “No, they didn’t,” I answer. “I don’t know why the Fellowship would do that in somewhat of a remote neighborhood and in a small town. There’s no point.”

  “Those people weren’t members of the Fellowship. The Fellowship look to disrupt the normal flow of life to larger populations, and they don’t hide behind masks. Your five people were just taking advantage of the situation.”

  “Well, I just hope they didn’t kill Jeff.”

  “Call him up,” Tip says. “His number is right there on the screen, and I’ll see if I can track his phone. If it’s on, I’ll be able to locate him pretty quick.”

  The kid is amazing. Why didn’t I think of that before? I do exactly as he says, but to my disappointment, Jeff’s line is disconnected. Tip hits a brick wall with the tracking, as well. I ask him to track Lana’s phone number that’s on Max’s phone bill. After a few breathless moments, he doesn’t get a hit.

  “I guess I’ll be going by Jeff’s office tomorrow,” I remark. “Knowing my luck, he could be dead.”

  “What about that woman with the unknown number?” Tip points to the name on the screen. “Have you ever heard of Evelyn Crowe?”

  “Never,” I answer. “But Max had an appointment with her last week. It’s in that planner I showed you.”

  “Let me see what the net has on her.” Tip starts typing on the second computer.

  Moltean Corporation website comes up on the screen with a profile picture of Evelyn Crowe. It shows she’s the president of that company. She has a short pixie-like haircut. Evelyn appears to be in her late thirties with an even caramel complexion. Her serious brown eyes are piercing, almost on the verge of anger.