Heist

by Kezzy Sparks

  “Did you really say you asked her to?”

  “Yes, I did, although removing the dick was her idea, not mine. All I wanted was Casey to be hurt, but I didn’t say how.”

  “Who is this senior?”

  “The Mage...” she blurts. “Extraordinaire.”

  Briefly, I think about it; it’s a name I might have heard bandied around in the underworld, but I am not so sure. “Can you take me to this Mage Extraordinaire? Is it she who has the stolen property?”

  “No, she isn’t the one with the set. Now let me tell you. The parts were taken by my ex.”

  “Another one? What's his name?”

  “Tyler Skinyard.”

  “Is he the one I saw last time leaving this place with a backpack?”

  “Yes, that was him.”

  I remember too well how the Tyler guy acted. It was very suspicious and I knew he had stolen something although I had no clue it could be the goods I was looking for.

  Just, though, to confirm that the reveal I did in here that afternoon was accurate, I ask: “In what sort of box were the goods you people stole?”

  “Initially they were in The Mage’s red catcher,” she answers, “but when I got hold of them, I put everything into a pink case.”

  Ah, so the reveal had been accurate despite that the amethyst wasn’t initialized that day. “A pink case with a green velvet lining,” I add just for further confirmation.

  “Yes.” She nods. “But how do you know, are you psychic?”

  “I am a wizardess,” I reply, “and a witch hunter, too, for you own information.”

  What I now can’t understand is why current reveals show a dark brown case. Is it because Tyler changed it? I can’t bother Eve with that, though.

  She goes on to give me Ty’s address and phone number. He lives on Marine Drive. Right away I try to call his number, but I get the message that says it’s temporarily unassigned.

  “It’s not working,” I say, immediately frustrated, “is there another one?”

  “If he recently changed numbers, I could find out from his brother,” Eve offers.

  “Okay, give it to me as soon as you get it.”

  Honestly, I am now at a crossroads. Should I visit this Mage Extraordinaire perpetrator or go to see the Tyler Skinyard guy even without an initial call. The Mage is guilty of practicing black magic, but I think it will help Casey better if I just tracked his lost goods.

  I think again about it. It's too early for now to go knocking on doors, but come sunrise, I will rush to Marine Drive to talk to Tyler and remind him theft is a crime. He should return what he took.

  “Now go to bed,” I say to Eve. “I shall be back with more questions.”

  Fifty-four

  Shortly, I’m back in my Corolla. Dawn is establishing itself, and the eastern horizon is rimmed with a faint dark gold. It’s not the witching hour anymore, and the paranormal underworld is gone back to hibernation. For me, resting however isn’t an option, as I have set my mind on going to the house of The Mage whom Eve spoke of. That witch is not the instigator of all this, but the principal enabler. She is the Lady in Red, and I must arrest her.

  It’s a nice thought, but unfortunately powerful rogue mages like her can’t be captured without major fights that sometimes spill into public spaces, meaning it’s too late at dawn to try that. Further, I am not even sure if I can tackle her on my own, which therefore means this morning’s visit will only be to spy her lair. Enforcement of the law will only be done after more careful planning, and at the more appropriate time.

  Happy, still, with how the night turned out, I glide out of the Willow Grove lot and swing onto Elmwood. The streetlights are still on, but their dominance is waning as the darkness above lifts. The address I got from Eve says The Mage lives in Alden and I don’t suppose she lied—because several times when I used my dropper wand, I got an Alden location. The Mage must live there for sure.

  I suck in the morning air with lots of hope. Unlike days past when my energy was sapped by the lack of progress, my vigor has now been replenished. That embryonic sun casting its nascent rays out from beneath the eastern rim points to a new beginning for Casey and Megan. The feeling sets my heart aflutter. Please God, don’t make me lose this optimism; it’s something I could never do without.

  The most convenient way to get to Alden from here is to take Summer Street and then Best, before getting onto Walden. I know, too, where Savage is because I drove in that area before. That road is a small rural strip, actually closed at one end. On reaching it, I park about a hundred yards from The Mage’s and take a faraway look. There is no activity outside.

  Cautiously I step out of the Vic and start to walk down. It will be wise not to unnecessarily alert the witch by doing something stupid, so I make sure to stay out of her property, and her gaze.

  Just as I reach closer to her home, but while still on the other side of the road, my sniffer starts to vibrate. I don’t need any introduction that I have reached the abode of Casey’s attacker. The house is a big split-level type of dwelling, built of what looks like dark brown brick, but my eyes could be fooled by the lack of good illumination.

  The driveway is dark, but a hint of green is starting to show in the gardens. The porch light is on, and placed on the concrete floor are two jack-o-lanterns, painted black from what I can tell. Both are unlit, and possibly could be hiding something dangerous, but I can’t detect anything from here.

  Curiously, I am drawn to a tall lone tree in the backyard. It’s hard, however, in relative darkness to tell if it was a maple, spruce or oak, even though its crown peeks well above the roof. As I gaze at it, I notice something: the movement of a black shadow.

  That can’t be a ghost, for they don’t routinely climb trees. And then I glimpse it better: a powerful demon of the nastiest kind, with a single horn that juts out of its head like a rhinoceros’s. It shakes the branches for a short while and then it lowers itself. The sniffer is almost screaming. This is a place of bad magic.

  There are wards, too, and I feel them radiating a menacing power through the closed main door, and another one through a large front window. No, I can’t attack this place alone; it’s far too powerful.

  I walk back to the Vic. The coming battle is going to be tough.

  ***

  By the time the sun creeps out of the horizon, I am back on Broadway going to the office. I have been up for a while and to avoid nodding off, I open the Toyota’s front windows just a crack. A small gust brushes my hair, but I keep my head level and gaze through to the crispy vista ahead. The tallest buildings of Buffalo peek above the immense forest of small little others. I glimpse the Seneca One, the City Hall, and the Rand, glowing yellowish.

  First thing I do when I get into the office is to not forget to drop in a few pellets for Mr. Gillz. “What an adventure-filled night,” I say as he salutes me.

  Gosh, I feel so tired, and it’s tempting to look at the couches, but I resolve I am not going to lie on there. Instead I fire up my coffee pot and stare through my window as I wait for it to boil. The cup I brew is celebratory, and I savor it despite the hazy cloud that hangs over me due to my controversial use of the Alcatraz.

  As I am about to finish, I call Zed.

  “You can’t believe the luck I had last night.” I go on to tell him all about capturing Eve Lynn in the trapezoid, and also the leads she gave me regarding the whereabouts of Casey’s danglies. “The little Lady in Red is actually called Mage Extraordinaire,” I enlighten him further.

  “Wonderful clues,” he exclaims.

  “I went to her place; you can’t believe how fortified it is,” I say.

  “Did you, huh, now that’s something.”

  “Yes,” I say and savor a creamy bitter sip. “The only regret is that I couldn’t walk in to arrest her.”

  “Never mind that,” says Zed. “It’s great that you were cautious.”

  We keep discussing, and then he says he will go and survey the place himsel
f. Nothing, though, can be done right away because it’s after sunrise and the public is up. If we are to assemble a force and tackle The Mage, it would have to be at nighttime.

  “Isn’t it bad that you now know she isn’t the one possessing Casey’s things,” he says as we discuss. “Otherwise when we march into that fortress, we would claim back the prize.”

  He speaks as if attacking The Mage would be an easy thing—which I know it isn’t—but he is doing it for my motivation, and that’s a good thing. Truth to tell, the evil witch is powerful, and I don't need any introduction as to what she can do to anyone who dares attack her. I saw it for myself last Sunday in Medina: that man who calls himself The Boss was left for dead.

  We will see how the battles go.

  Fifty-five

  “Mr. Gillz, here another day begins.” I cheer at my pet fish again after I put the phone down.

  Given my discussion with Zed, it’s time for me to weigh what I can do on my own so as to move the case forward. That singular clue about Casey’s parts I got from Eve is significant, and I can tackle it by myself. I will go talk to that ex-boyfriend of hers, Tyler, and learn more. In previous reveals, the last person I glimpsed standing next to the goods was that white man inside the post office, and now according to Eve, Tyler is also young and white, so he might be the guy who mailed the case to that cold place. I am anxious to find out which address he sent the package to.

  As I think about it further, though, certain things just boggle my mind. Why would he mail the parts rather than return them where he had stolen them? Why did he even steal them in the first place? Isn’t he a man who possesses his own wiener, why take another’s?

  It makes me all the more determined to solve the riddle, and I scarcely can hold myself to wait for a more civil hour to try and call him again.

  An hour later, the anticipation is just too much, and I pick up my red phone to dial. Unfortunately no one answers except for that voice that says this number has been temporarily disconnected. Painfully I hold on for five more minutes and then repeat—but with the same result. Frustration creeps into me. Why is this now happening, when I thought I was so close to getting answers?

  After a failed third try, I decide to just hit the road. Marine Drive is west of downtown and I won’t even need to use a GPS. I maneuver the Toyota through the maze of morning traffic. The thrill of the chase buoys me, even though I can clearly see two problems associated with this impulsive trip. First, I have no appointment and Tyler could have gone to work or to some other place. Second, and even more importantly, his crime isn’t a magical one, so I can’t really press him for information should he decided not to yield any.

  Thirty minutes later, I reach his road. Tyler’s building is only a couple of blocks from where Marine Drive connects with Erie Street. I am lucky there is no shortage of visitor parking when I get into their lot.

  Before leaving the car, I decide to use the dreamstone first. It’s always good to approach a suspect armed with some extra insights, and that is what this is for. The amethyst is in its glass case in my denim tote, and I take it out and hold it in my hand as I try to doze off. In the dream, like I have been glimpsing in recent reveals, I see nothing but ice crystals, which can only mean Casey's privates are still refrigerated.

  Armed with that, I then go to the building. The door is locked, but even though I have my door openers, I can’t use them because of bureau rules. I must wait—and I do that till I see an old white woman come down holding an unlit cigarette. In a moment she opens, and I waste no time to dash in and gun for the elevators. There is one already parked at ground floor. I ride up.

  It’s a bit of a mess, his floor. The paint is peeling off some walls, and the corridor carpets are worn and smelly. When I pass one particular door I catch a whiff of pot.

  At Tyler’s door, I knock, then wait until someone opens. The guy is tall, probably around thirty, with a short beard, and he is dressed in a worn cotton shirt and shorts. He doesn’t let me in right away.

  “Mind if I come in. I need to talk to you,” I say. “You are Tyler, right?”

  He sizes me up, decides I am no threat, and then says, “Come in, what do you need?” No seat is offered to me, but that’s fine.

  I now regret I didn’t speak to Eve long enough to learn more about this Tyler dude. The easiest way to win someone’s confidence is to talk about what they do, all the while pretending like you knew them from long back. I try to imagine what kind of a man gets invited to his ex’s apartment and then vanishes with X-rated items like he did. What does such a person do for a living? Does he take drugs or binge on alcohol? I wish Kay, the psychologist, was here to shed more light on this character.

  “I know you are a friend of Eve. I saw you that day,” I begin, aiming to disarm him with charm.

  “I may know Eve, but I don’t know you.” He scowls a bit, but I am not discouraged. My idea of him is that he is actually harmless, although I can’t purge myself of the lingering contempt that he is a sneaky cock thief.

  “You might have forgotten, but we actually saw each other last week,” I go on. “Remember, Wednesday?”

  “Wednesday?” He hesitates as he recalls something.

  “Yep,” I say. “You left her apartment just as I was coming in. And you were carrying a backpack—oh yeah, that one.” I see it on a table to the far side.

  “And so, who are you exactly?” His brow furrows. “I don’t have much time.”

  I think not to give away my real identity quick. “What I would like to know is,” I say, rather, “did you take a pink storage box belonging to Eve? It had quite some fancy items inside it.”

  “I didn’t take no box. Now I am done with you. Go.” A shadow crosses his face that I think says guilty.

  “Tyler, you know it’s a crime to take what doesn’t belong to you,” I counter. “If reported to police, you might go to jail.”

  “I never saw the case you talk about.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Ty. I’m an undercover cop.”

  “Why don’t you ask Eve where the box is?”

  “She said you took it.”

  “No, I didn’t. You, woman, are fake. I’m calling the police on you.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can. Now get out.” He readies to push me out, and I see he is serious.

  “The case is now in a freezer somewhere,” I say gaping at his kitchen fridge.

  “Why bother me then if you know where it is. Go get it, bye.”

  “Thanks anyway for allowing me in,” I say and walk out.

  The door is banged shut. Clearly this man took Casey’s things, although he might not have them anymore. It’s a pity that I couldn’t force him to tell me what happened after he took the case.

  I walk into the hallway heading back to the elevators. Oh God, I am sinking in self-blame, thinking I could have handled this better.

  Fifty-six

  From Marine Drive, I drive back to West Seneca chafing that I came away empty-handed. My imagination had been that I am this close to regaining what was lost, but that is now dented. Tyler wouldn’t say if he was or wasn’t that man who in that reveal mailed the organs. Further he wouldn’t even admit he took them from Eve’s apartment. Now what am I to do; I still haven’t a clue as to where that frozen place is.

  I arrive home well after nine, and Sara is gone to school. I fear she might be wondering what’s going on with me because when she woke up this morning, she would have discovered I was missing from my bedroom. That could cause her to worry, and for the most part I drove back here to assure her I am fine. In person.

  Jumping on to secondary things, I take a good long shower then make myself a hearty breakfast, making sure I leave some of the bites for my stepsister to have after she is back. After that, I change, then head back to the office.

  Before I can sit however, Zed calls on my cell.

  “I am on my way,” he says.

  “Cool, I'm here.” It would be nice
to see him and hear what he saw.

  The guy is fast, and he shows up in only a little while. Today, as usual, he is clean shaven, and his hair is trimmed to a crew cut. He wears a green button-up shirt and a long but light jacket of nearly the same color. The pants are khakis, but of a much darker shade of green.

  “I was to the place,” he says, speaking of The Mage’s home. “It’s garrisoned.”

  “Yes, I did see that, too.” I agree, since his observations don’t differ much from mine.

  “You didn’t mention it, but I smelled some feral cat familiars,” he goes on.

  “Really, did you?” I answer. Failing to pick that up, though, was a big slip on my part, because when I went to Medina I sniffed something like them. “Maybe I missed it.” I shrug just to cover my error.

  Zed doesn’t want to pursue that part further. “We will certainly need anti-demon lotion.”

  “Yes, we sure do,” I say with some fear as I recall the dangerous apparition I saw.

  “Don’t worry about it, though; we’ll manage.” His voice is reassuring. “But we should act fast.”

  “Like tonight, you mean?” I shiver a bit.

  “Yes,” Zed says.

  “Perfect.” I agree.

  Despite that I was a bit scared a moment ago, eagerness now sweeps through me. Launching a raid at The Mage’s! It would help to bring one troubling part of this case to an end.

  After Zed has gone, I stay in the office waiting for calls, or wrapping this or that up. When it’s four-thirty, I take my break as usual and drive home to Sara. Most times on these family breaks, I do some stuff with my sister for a couple of hours and then drive right back to work. Tonight, however, it won’t be that way. I will go out for dinner with her and then come back home to sleep for a while, in preparation. Because before midnight, I must wake up and go to war…

  ***

  After eleven thirty, just as I am back in the office, I call Zed and he says he is on his way. And sure enough, he appears soon afterward.