Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

  “We no longer manufacture alarm systems. I can recommend Guardian Electronic.”

  “Is there anyone around who knows how the old systems work?”

  “No. Why should there be? I can’t imagine anyone using one any more, not when there are better, more efficient models on the market.”

  “Apparently, this one still works.”

  “We made a quality product. However, I’m sure the warranty expired on that one a long time ago.” He looked at his watch. “Was that all?”

  “You’re offering a ten thousand dollar reward for information on the Parkland Avenger. Why?”

  His expression darkened. “I think it’s a crime that one deluded person is making a mockery of our fine city, that’s why.”

  “A lot of deluded people live in Parkland.”

  “True, but they aren’t making the front page every day.” If he’d had a full height, he would’ve drawn himself up to it. “The Winthrops are a proud and established family in this area, Mister Randall. We find this kind of behavior insulting. If my offer of a reward can get this imbecile off the streets, I feel I will have done Parkland a service.”

  “If you feel this strongly, why not give the police department a donation to get some of the real criminals off the streets? Or help out some of charities in town?”

  Now I’d insulted him. “You should have done your homework. Winthrop, Incorporated, is a leading contributor to all the charities. I believe this conversation is finished.”

  “One more question, please. You have quite a nice display of the history of your company here. Do you have any old maps or blueprints of Parkland?”

  “Only those associated with the buildings and offices of Winthrop, Incorporated. What could possibly be your interest in those?”

  “Well, believe it or not, I’m trying to catch the Avenger, too.”

  He’d been on the verge of throwing me out. Now his little pale eyes gleamed. “Why didn’t you say so?”

  “It’s an independent investigation. I don’t want a lot of people to know.”

  He leaned forward. “I assure you I’ll be discreet. What have you discovered?”

  “I have an associate at the Herald working undercover.” Boy, would she like to. “I think she has a direct connection to this guy.”

  “When do you expect results?”

  As soon as I can wring it out of her. “Soon. And there may be some connection between the Avenger and some robberies downtown, but I’m not sure.”

  He pointed one tiny stick finger. “You find this Avenger, and I promise you, you’ll get the reward.”

  “I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Excellent. Good afternoon, Mister Randall.”

  On my way out, I stopped by the secretary’s desk. “Excuse me, but your boss doesn’t look a thing like his picture.”

  “Oh, he’s been ill,” she said. “He’s a cancer survivor.”

  “That explains his interest in all the charities.”

  “He’s very concerned about giving something back to the city.”

  “He seems pretty concerned about the Parkland Avenger, too.”

  “We hate to see anything about that character in the paper. We know Mister Winthrop’s blood pressure will be off the scale.”

  “Any reason why he feels so strongly?”

  “I have no idea. I think the Avenger’s kind of funny, myself. Just somebody playing a joke.”

  “That’s my theory, too,” I said.

  Back in my car, I had a call from Kary.

  “I talked with a very nice man at Green Valley. He couldn’t go into all the details, of course, but he said that Jared was brought there when he was a baby, like Cam. ‘Hunter’ was the name on his birth certificate. Both parents had died, and there were no relatives to take the baby. He said Jared was a good student and made friends easily, but he was never adopted and stayed until he was eighteen and then left.”

  Because of his tendency to stare off into space and see things that weren’t visible to others, Camden had been hard to place until Hubert and Rosalie Camden took him in, but at least, he’d had a family of sorts.

  “Did he stay in touch with the Home?”

  “The man said he hadn’t heard from him. I didn’t tell him Jared had been murdered. I couldn’t.”

  “That’s okay. You didn’t have to.”

  “Being a detective isn’t easy, is it?”

  “Unfortunately, sometimes it gets a little more personal than you’d like.”

  “Well, I’m hoping to find something useful at the library today. See you later.”

  I closed my phone and sat for a while, thinking. Camden had mentioned once that as a child, how puzzled he’d been that no one wanted him until Hubert and Rosalie decided they’d keep him, strange behavior and all. No one had wanted Jared, and this had to be upsetting. So, wouldn’t he have been the one full of anger, the one who would stab and kill?

  Nothing made sense. Yet.

  Chapter Twelve

  “We Have Turned Ev’ry One to His Own Way”

  If the Avenger was one person playing a joke, then the Superhero Society was a whole pile of people playing a joke. I knocked on Lily’s door at four thirty, and a tall man wearing red long johns and a red plastic belt let me in.

  “I am Keltar, the Incredibly Gifted. I perceive that you are Camden’s friend, David Randall, sent by the High Council to offer us guidance in the distressing problem of the Parkland Avenger.”

  “You perceive correctly, Keltar.”

  “Come in, come in. We’ve just started.”

  There were six people sitting in Lily’s living room, having tea and cookies, all dressed in what I’m sure they imagined were superhero outfits, although the general effect was of slumber party crossed with the tackier aspects of glam rock. I hadn’t seen this many sequins since Kary’s last beauty pageant.

  Lily Wilkes is our neighbor, a lovely and petite yet completely delusional young woman who is convinced she’s been abducted by aliens many times. She was dressed in her usual grab-bag attire, a shapeless plaid jumper over a flowered shirt and a pith helmet decorated with a large pink bow over her unusually white fluffy hair. “David, I’m so glad you could come. Let me introduce you. You met Keltar, the Incredibly Gifted. This is the Mad Shadow, Spiral Man, Destiny’s Arrow, The Hook, Free Form, and Last Nerve.”

  I couldn’t tell if The Mad Shadow was male or female. It was wrapped completely in black with only the eyes showing. It nodded. Spiral Man was a lanky fellow in green with spiral antennae. He waved a wand. Destiny’s Arrow was a large woman dressed in Robin Hood style, complete with bow and arrows. She looked me up and down, smiled, and said to call her Destiny. The Hook had both hands, but held a nasty-looking instrument that might have once been a harpoon, which he shook in my direction.

  “I’m the Hook of Justice. Once you’re in my grasp, you can never get away.”

  This left Free Form and Last Nerve. Free Form was a young woman, all glitter, with glittery wings and a shiny face sprinkled with more glitter. As for Last Nerve, he was a nerdy-looking man all in silver with a determined expression.

  “Last Nerve here. When you get to me, you’ve had it.”

  “Nice choice,” I said. “Very original. How can I help you folks?”

  Destiny’s Arrow moved over on the sofa and patted the cushion next to her, inviting me to sit down. “We want you to catch the Avenger. While we realize he’s doing some good out there trying to stop crime, but he’s making it harder for the rest of us to be taken seriously.”

  This was a true test of my ability to keep a straight face. “So all of you want to stop crime, too?”

  “Yes, of course. We don’t just sit around having tea. We want to do some good in the world. The Avenger has become a laug
hing stock. How do you think that makes us feel?”

  Well, if you’re not embarrassed to be seen in public in that outfit, I can’t imagine how you feel. “It must be difficult.”

  Last Nerve gestured with his cookie. “Mister Randall, we truly believe in the principles set forth by the High Council: Truth, Honesty, and Freedom for All. We’re trying to make this world a better place. We don’t need upstart Avengers prowling the streets. Something must be done.”

  “Do any of you have an idea who the Avenger might be? A former member of this group, perhaps?”

  The Hook used the end of the harpoon to scratch his head. “We’ve been considering that, and we’re pretty sure he isn’t one of us.”

  “This is a small, select group,” Lily said.

  I gave them another look. Physically, none of them matched the Avenger’s description, not even the black-clad Mad Shadow. He or she was too dumpy.

  Keltar cleared his throat. “We have an idea—or rather, I should say, I have an idea. We plan to patrol the streets every night, catch this Avenger, and discover his identity. Then we shall threaten to expose him if he continues on his misguided path.”

  I could just see Jordan’s reaction to this crew. “That might not be a good idea.” Keltar drew himself up, insulted. “The police are not real happy with the Avenger. They’d be inclined to arrest you for interfering.”

  “But we want to do something!” Free Form said. “It’s really really important.”

  I looked around at their earnest, goofy faces and at the Mad Shadow’s eyes gleaming hopefully behind its mask. “Okay, there might be something you can do.” I accepted a cup of tea from Lily. The SHS leaned forward. “You’re all superheroes. You know what it’s like. Help me understand what makes a person choose this kind of life. You have to be special, I know that. What’s a typical day for a superhero in Parkland?”

  They exchanged glances. “Well,” Keltar said, “I can’t speak for my fellow crime-fighters, but my day begins with a morning jog, followed by a shower and a good breakfast. Then I resume my duties at an accounting firm where my true identity is a closely guarded secret. After putting in a full day’s work, I am free to pursue my superhero activities, which include neighborhood watch and the recycling of discarded cans and plastic bottles I find on the streets.”

  The others had similar stories. Spiral Man, Last Nerve, and the Hook had office jobs. Free Form worked in a beauty salon. Destiny worked at home, and the Mad Shadow declined to reveal any information. I was beginning to get the picture. All of these people were loners, all were only marginally attractive, nobody was in good shape, and underneath all the vinyl and glitter, they were all annoyed their world view wasn’t shared by the masses. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to be, dagnabit, so they were going to set things right, even if it meant running around in funny costumes.

  “So, as far as you know, you’re the only true superheroes in town?”

  They conferred.

  “Do we count Virtue Vixen?” Destiny asked.

  Spiral Man’s antennae wobbled as he shook his head. “She’s way behind in her dues. I’d say no.”

  Free Form was more sympathetic. “Come on, guys, she’s my roomie. Just because she missed a few meetings.”

  “Talk to her, then,” Keltar said. “Is she taking this seriously, or not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I thought you told me she was always complaining about the outfit.”

  “She complains about my outfit. She says it’s too flashy. Just because she dresses with no imagination whatsoever.”

  The others looked back at me. “I wouldn’t count on the Vixen. We’re the only ones,” Destiny said. “But we’re always looking for possible recruits. You could join.”

  “No, thanks,” I said. “I’m allergic to Spandex.”

  “Then tell us what we can do to stop the Avenger.” Keltar lowered his voice. “I’m beginning to believe he may have gone over to the Dark Side.”

  I warned them again about getting in the way. “Keep your super senses alert. Any clue you can find is going to help.”

  Lily saw me to the door. “They’re really sincere about this, David.”

  “So am I.”

  “And we need to keep their identities secret.”

  “They didn’t tell me their real names, Lily.”

  “Oh,” she said. “Okay, then.”

  “Make sure they don’t try to help.”

  “They really want to help.”

  “They can really help by staying out of the way.”

  The Mad Shadow came up and nudged my elbow. “You should speak to Vixen.”

  Even the Shadow’s voice didn’t give away gender. “Why’s that?”

  “She always wears yellow and red, like the Avenger.”

  “Do I sense a little superhero jealousy here?”

  The Shadow managed to look affronted. “Despite my name, I am a force for good.”

  “Where would I find this Vixen? That’s not her real name, is it?”

  “Her name’s Emmajean. Ask at the beauty salon. Hair’s Looking At You.”

  “You, too.”

  “No, no, that’s the name of the place. Downtown on Third.” The Shadow made a few darting glances right and left and scurried back to the living room.

  “My,” Lily said. “What do you think of that?”

  I gave Lily my standard answer after an afternoon at her house. “I have no idea.”

  ***

  Hair’s Looking At You was a small beauty salon wedged between a defunct video arcade and a hardware store. When I opened the door, the smell of hair-curling chemicals and hair spray made my eyes water. All three women in the salon looked as startled as if I’d reached up and snapped off the soap opera whining in the corner. The one sitting under the dryer dropped her Glamour magazine. The one sitting in the chair getting a haircut gave a little jerk and almost lost part of her ear. The woman cutting her hair said, “Oh, my goodness, don’t jump like that.”

  I hadn’t meant to cause such a reaction. “Sorry, ladies. I’m looking for Emmajean.”

  The woman cutting hair lowered her scissors. “She isn’t here. She works every other Tuesday. What’s this all about?”

  “I’m an old friend in town for a few days. Thought we might get together.”

  She eyed me. “I’m sure Emma would like that. You want to leave your number?”

  “Sure.”

  She came to her desk and tore a piece of paper off her appointment book. I wrote my name and phone number. I added, “Lily and Keltar send their love.”

  “I’ll put it at her station,” the woman said.

  “Thanks.” I noticed a stack of newspapers and magazines covered one small table. “You ladies been keeping up with the Avenger?”

  The woman under the dryer’s face wrinkled with disapproval. Looked like she’d been under there long enough. “Lot of nonsense.”

  “Some college boy playing a prank,” the woman getting her hair cut said. “My nephew had to run around town in his underwear for some fraternity initiation.”

  The beautician continued trimming. “I don’t know. This Avenger must be for real.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  She looked surprised that I would question her. “Because it’s in the paper. Look here.” She put down her scissors and reached for a newspaper on the counter. She folded it back to an article on the front page.

  “Parkland Avenger Sighted” the headline read. I skimmed the rest of the article, noticing it had been written by Brooke Verner. “Parkland’s self-appointed superhero, the Parkland Avenger, was seen near Buncombe Street last night. Witnesses report he was wearing his traditional yellow and red, with red cape and mask. When greeted, the Avenger g
ave a salute and then disappeared into the night. ‘I feel safer knowing he’s out there,’ one witness said. ‘You can’t count on the police to be everywhere.’”

  Oh, I’ll bet Jordan loved this.

  I handed the paper back to the beautician, who said, “Why would they print it in the paper if it wasn’t true?”

  “Well, sometimes not everything in the newspaper is true.”

  This had obviously never occurred to her. “That doesn’t make sense. Why have a newspaper full of lies?”

  “I don’t mean out and out lies like the sun is green, or Germany won World War II. I mean sometimes the facts get a little blurry or opinionated, like in ‘Your Turn.’”

  “But those are real calls phoned in by real people with real concerns. That’s probably the most honest part of the Herald.”

  Her buddies agreed with her. “I called in a complaint, myself,” the woman under the dryer said. “The garbage men were coming around my neighborhood at six in the morning making the awfulest racket. I called ‘Your Turn,’ and the route got changed. Now they come at a much more reasonable hour.”

  And wake up another neighborhood at six.

  The woman getting a haircut put in her two cents. “My cousin called, too. Asked about all those foreigners coming in, if there was going to be room for the children in the schools, and how waiting in line at the post office was getting to be a problem.”

  I wasn’t sure how or if these things were related. I tried to get the conversation back on track. “Anything in ‘Your Turn’ about the Avenger?”

  “Oh, he averages five or six calls a week. Most people say he’s doing the city some good.”

  “Sometimes he just gets in the way, though, doesn’t he?”

  “Not every time.”

  The door opened. In walked a tall young woman all in black. Her skin was a rich tan, her light brown hair was a complicated series of braids and beads, and she had a ring on every finger. She was carrying two brightly colored shopping bags and a black gym bag.

  “Emmajean, you weren’t on the schedule today,” the beautician said.

  “I know. I stopped by to work on my tan.”