by Kezzy Sparks
The sun is already well up and beating down when I drive on Emerald. I usually tune in to country stations, and today is the same. The somber wailing lyrics go down well with the distress I feel about what’s going on with my client.
By the time I get to William, it’s already eleven. Most hotel checkouts are completed by now, but rather than start on the locate, I go into the office first to get a few things out of the way. The slight delay, too, will allow the suspect to get home and relax, and that will work even better for me.
As usual, Mr. Gillz is happy to see me. He dives up and down in his tank to greet me and to wish me good luck, as well. It doesn’t take me long to listen to some messages, jot down a few notes, send a couple of emails and then I am out.
For the locate, I drive to the park at the JFK Recreation Center on Clinton Street. The place is almost empty when I arrive, and that makes it easier to work without the public gawking. A spot under a solitary tree looks best. I give the dropper a spin and let it go. It lands facing somewhere east. Like usual, I measure the angle precisely, and then draw a line on the map.
For the second drop, I head to Conway Park on Louisiana Street, which is only a suitable distance away. There I repeat the process, and the two lines meet at some point east of here, in the village of Alden.
I look at it; it’s so unexpected. Yesterday I got an Orchard Park locate; today the perp has moved east!
“Alden yeah,” I muse to myself. “Who could be there?”
I must go to find out. The town isn’t too far, less than twenty-five miles away from here, which means I should make it in good time.
Just before driving off, I cross check with my GPS, so to narrow things down further. To my dismay I notice that the locate is right at a strip mall off Broadway. Now that’s a big shopping place, and things might not go right. It certainly will be hard to pinpoint the drop to a particular store or café.
The worst, though, is that the locate isn’t in a residential neighborhood, and people only go to malls to shop or dine, after which they leave. The suspect therefore might be gone before I get there. Which means I really should rush before that happens.
The midday traffic is reasonable, and it doesn’t take long to get to the town. As I reach closer to the strip, my sniffer, which is on the passenger seat, starts to kick. I brought it out of my tote before I began the drive—just to be ready, in case I needed to use it fast. Keeping it out, however, goes against the rules, but the case I am working on is too pressing.
“We got something here,” I say to myself nonetheless.
Most stores are to the right of the road, and I get ready to make the turn. The sniffer’s kicks show the suspect is nearby, and I pay attention to everything, the cars swinging in, the pedestrians on the sidewalks, the shoppers moving about in the lots. Any one of them could be the cause, and I must stop and park.
As I swing into the lot and halt at a space, the pulses intensify. I look around me to see if there could be anything interesting nearby, but it’s all just empty cars unfortunately. My experience with these things, though, is that I must pay attention to a wide field, but even more importantly to anything leaving. Because it does happen often that when I get to a place, the suspect is already departing, and today I don’t want that.
I check the parking exit. A white Dodge leads, followed by a blue Malibu, then a black Mercedes Benz, and a red Hyundai Tucson. The sniffer goes wild. If I was a regular cop I would have locked down the place. Nobody leaves, nobody comes in, until I’m finished ferreting.
Unfortunately though, I don’t have such powers, so I must continue with the indirect ways. Fast, I turn off my engine and get out, but just as I do that, the sniffer begins to fade. Sadly, I am forced to make one conclusion: the perpetrator just left. He or she was in one of those cars. I try to remember: a Malibu, a Dodge, a Mercedes Benz, a Hyundai. The color black is interesting, however, because two nights ago when I was attacked, the assailant ran into a dark-colored car. Could that black Merc have been? Should I be looking for it everywhere?
By the time I have concealed my sniffer, there is no longer any whipping. This trip is done. It’s sad I missed the suspect.
Really, isn’t it disappointing that locator wands can’t be used an infinite number of times on any given day. That limitation makes it harder to pin a suspect who moves from place to place. Maybe one of these days we should pray to the heavens for a change to this rule. Casey needs a break.
“All is not over, though.” I sigh as I realize I still have the crystal to do the dream reveal. That bit could add surprising dimensions.
I go into a cafe to have a bite while I think how best to tackle it.
***
Such reveals, luckily for me, don’t need special places to be done at. Before my order has been served, I conclude to do one right at this market. It’s a reasonable choice, but there is one important glitch, one to do with magical needs. That way I used the amethyst yesterday in Eve Lynn’s apartment is not quite the procedural way of doing things. It was only by chance that I got a little glimpse, so I can’t stretch the luck.
The amethyst, for it to be used properly like I mentioned yesterday, will need to be initialized in such a way that it knows what’s being looked for. This is achieved by letting it sit where the stolen items were last seen. The crystal will then magically lock onto the missing goods.
What that means is that I must have Casey put the stone in his underpants and keep it in there for a length of time. Only after that, will we be properly good to go.
So, then, I need Casey here, and I will call him. He now has a rental so he should also do his part by driving to this place. And then we can get the job done.
I waste no time dialing him.
“Casey, you will have to come here.”
“Where are you, and what’s up?”
“In Alden, hunting,” I say, “but there’s a little procedure we must clear.”
“Nice, I’ll be there.” Hope underlines his voice and I feel again that sting of raising his expectations too high.
I end the call then sit to give things more thought. Today I am beginning to intuit some deeper dimensions. The pilfered stuff we are dealing with is body parts, and I imagine it’s possible to get a more insightful reveal than otherwise expected. Creation was a magical event, and human bodies still carry some of that remnant energy. Casey’s stolen parts, therefore, have magic to them, and once that locks with the amethyst power, I should be able to glimpse more details than I could have gotten for example with stolen jewelry.
It takes my client twenty-five minutes to get here. By then, I am standing outside, scanning the traffic. His ride is an enviable shiny new Impala. “Not mine.” He repeats to me what he told me before.
We go back into the café and get a good place to sit at. It’s now a little busier but not so noisy as to prevent decent conversation. There is a lot to go over, but if there is one thing I shan’t mention, it’s my suspicion of Eve. I don’t want Casey to go to her apartment and confront her, because that would be totally wrong. He will get into trouble, and we must avoid that.
“I just missed your attacker by a minute,” I say, pointing to the lot. “The Lady in Red was here not a long time ago.”
“Or could still be,” he says. “You can’t possibly have looked into every little place.”
He thinks he is right, but he doesn’t know how powerful my sniffer is.
“She just left as I arrived. Believe me,” I say.
Dejection comes to his face. He presses his lips tight.
I have nothing better to cheer him up with, so I bring out the stone. “Let’s try to use another method,” I say. “I need you to put this in your pants.”
Casey glimpses the amethyst, and his lips part in a surprised grin. “Does it cause a second set to grow on me?”
I bite my lip. “Not quite, but it opens up other avenues for the investigation.”
“Alright, shall I then go into the restroom?”
He sizes the gem.
“No, you don’t have to. Just slip it in right here.”
His eyes go wide. “You mean like right, right here?”
“Yes. Under the table.”
He works his pants button and then unzips slightly. The amethyst finds its way into his undies.
“Keep it like that for two minutes, and then you are free to go.”
There isn’t going to be any voyeurism involved, and Casey mustn’t worry about that. I shall never get to view his privates, but only see through them to the surroundings, sort of like gazing through a lens. I have no business knowing how big or small the man he was prior to this.
After the required time, he hands the crystal back. I can feel it’s now loaded.
“Now you have a good day and let me work on this.” I shake his hand.
As I am about to stand, Casey silently shows he has a question to ask. I signal he can go ahead.
“Tell me?” he speaks. “Suppose we were able to find what we are looking for, in what state of goodness would they be?”
I sigh. It’s a hard thing to say for certain—because a crime like this has never happened so to give me any experience. My supposition, however, is that since magic was used to steal the organs, they should remain in good health unless physically destroyed. “We don’t need to worry about that,” I say, with a surety of voice that isn’t supported by exact knowledge. “Everything will be fine.”
“Thanks for the clarification.” He shakes my hand again, but even more vigorously. “I was so worried about…infection and…”
“Don’t even go that far. You will be good.”
We stand to go. As I hug him bye, I feel sorry for him once more, but there is a hope that we will turn things around. It will only be a matter of time.
***
I don’t go back into the café when Casey glides away in the Impala. Instead I walk to the Vic. I will do the reveal inside it.
Lying down on the backseat, I hold the primed stone in my hands. Not long after, I begin to doze off.
When the dream starts, I see something completely different. The velvet lining, so different from yesterday, is now black instead of green. And the case’s color has also changed, it’s now dark brown like chocolate, rather than the pink of yesterday. Sweet Jesus, what’s this now?
The dream, however, goes on. Like I believed I would get a better result because Casey’s parts are human and have some magic in them, my vision goes beyond the case to a woman whose face at first is not so well-rendered. She has large breasts like Eve’s, but they could be bigger. She must have lifted the case, for I now see her face more clearly. It's well made up, her lips plump and soft. At some point she smiles, or is it a grin, but certainly there is no lasciviousness to her demeanor. I don’t see in her any desire to love, or on the contrary, to cause injury, just a lot of wonder and mystification. After a while, the case is lowered and placed somewhere. The young woman turns around to leave, and I see her generous behind, clothed in a short tight skirt.
I wake up and immediately start to think.
That couldn’t be Eve. That woman was just so surprised. Honestly Eve wouldn’t react with that much wonder to her ex’s dick that she knows so much about.
So could she then be the Lady in Red? Very likely not, because that bad witch can’t have been puzzled by something she did herself.
It therefore leaves me with one conclusion. Casey’s items have landed into the possession of some mystic girl who herself doesn’t understand what is going on. The man who behaved suspiciously yesterday at Eve’s place is not a thief.
This is powerful.
And it’s all good, like it is. The hazy woman will keep the set, and we will find it. Unless by some unfortunate turn, she decides to toss it away—into a garbage bin or some other dirty place like that—but I don’t think that will happen.
We wait to see how things go.
Thirty-one
Casey drives away from Alden, heading back downtown. Compared to how he felt when he was coming, his heart is now lighter. Mel has her whole weight behind him, and that’s something to thank God for. She is a hard worker.
They discussed the latest. The locate missed the target just by seconds. It’s a powerful process but with limits, he learned. Then there is this amethyst dream-reveal thing that she didn’t clarify yet. She only asked him to put a small stone into his pants, and he wonders how that will help. It should be good to know, and he will keep in touch for that.
Yesterday, when he visited the library, one of the reasons had been to research on whether his stolen organs would be subject to decomposition and wasting away. Truly, it had haunted him to imagine the risks—because with each passing day who could guarantee him continued vitality. It greatly angered him when he couldn’t find anything definitive in the books. Now Mel has said there won’t be such a thing. Casey’s chest warms up as he remembers her exact words. We don’t need to worry about that. Everything will be fine…
This news is nice, and it sure would have been great to share it with Megan, but then that’s not possible because he hasn’t hinted to her anything yet.
Now he is on errands and has to go visit the limo place. The best deal they got is from Cloud Ten, a top shelf outfit that does business on Kensington Avenue. His purpose is to check the actual rides that they are going to be chauffeured in, but seriously, if it was left to him alone, he’d say it really isn’t necessary anymore to see the limos. Nothing about the wedding is now guaranteed, and this whole trip might be for naught—yet the agreement with Megan is that he must check, and tonight she is going to ask him if he did. And then if he hasn’t, that’s going to provide her with one more example that things aren’t right.
At Cloud Ten, he is welcomed into the cool inners of its finely kept office by a young man of his age, with blond hair trimmed to a crew cut. They have rented two limos, a regularly stretched one for him and Megan, plus the maid of honor and best man, and then a much longer one for the rest of the team. The regular-sized limo, at least according to the pictures they saw, is a white Lincoln and the much longer one a black Hummer.
“Come on, sir. Let’s go see.”
“Sure thing.” He follows.
The company has several rides displayed outside, and they head to a particularly neat Lincoln.
“Here is yours.” The young man slides the door open. “Please, check it out.”
Casey gets his head in, glimpses the luxurious leather, but can’t go no farther.
“Go right in, sir, and take a seat. You will like it.”
Casey touches his groin, feels nothing and almost panics, but he composes himself at the last moment. He then slides in and plunges onto the leather—which is comfortable, but that’s no comfort.
The young man gapes at him, and that’s when Casey remembers he has to say something at least. “Little warm in here,” he mutters confusedly while forcing a smile.
“Don’t worry, sir, we will make it icy for you, Sunday.”
Back in the office, he surrenders his credit card but what he would like to tell this ever-pleasant young man is that the shiny rides he has shown him might never see action on the day. He just might bolt away.
The young rep, ignorant of his customer’s woes, takes his details. Business is business, and whatever happens, funds will be deducted. Casey wants to scream at him to stop the whole thing but can’t. There is the withering specter of Megan to consider.
Sunk into a gnawing funk, he drives away from Cloud Ten. There is a still a couple other things to do regardless of how he feels. He has already been to the barber shop, but the dentist’s, quite a major stop, still remains undone. He drives there, striving to soothe himself.
Teeth cleaning and whitening takes a while, but eventually he is out. Then after tying up a few more ends, he is back home. He can relax for a while, and he lies on his couch thinking: will Mel succeed.
“I hope she does,” he mutters to himself.
The hours do
pass, and soon it’s time to prepare for the next thing, the big rehearsal. He can’t run away from this one, because he already hurt Megan by avoiding the mini one of Tuesday. It will be tough to pretend to be normal in front of so many people, but he must get on with it.
He sets things rolling by first gelling his hair, before wading into the shower. Bathing doesn’t take long, and soon he is back in his bedroom. Everything must seem normal, and so he goes for a dapper outfit, a fine jacket and matching longs, plus a nice shirt.
Just before he opens the door to leave, a sound of a van parking in the driveway pokes in. Then a knock. Who could it be? He wrenches the door handle.
It’s his sister Shauna! With her husband Gus! The two are hauling a huge travel case.
Casey’s heart beats faster. Wedding guests are already coming in to hang around before the day. Is he prepared...for the disaster to come?
“Hey there, Casey.” His sister rushes to hug him.
“Shauna, Gus, how have you guys been keeping?” Casey greets them as another awareness hits him. Can he still regard Shauna as a sister, with the way he is? She is still family, yes, but a sister really?
“We saw the card a while ago and thought this can’t be missed.” Gus pats his goatee.
The two live on Grand Island. It should be nice to have them here, and he will strive to make it look like.
“Please come in,” he says.
“You look great, man.” Gus is first to step in. “It’s like you’re already marching to the altar.”
Shauna gushes. “It’s a great family occasion, Casey, I am proud of you.”
“No one is going back to the Island until the whole thing is over,” her husband coos.
“We could celebrate till even Monday,” his sister adds.
A pang bites into Casey, but he surprises even himself with a fake chuckle that is almost natural sounding. Do these guys know the real state of affairs? What if the whole thing never took place? “I thank you for that,” he says.
