by Gary Starta
He raised a hand as if to mock my concern. I watched them carry Yilosk’s dead body in a blanketed gurney to an ambulance. I said, “yes sir, you better be thorough because there could be many suspects.”
“Oh, tell me, Agent Diggs. Do these suspects often kill their targets by tossing a bar of soap into the shower? Because to me, it looks like he slipped and hit his head on the wall.” He flipped a page in his notebook.
I turned and walked away in silence, stewing in my juices.
Yes. There were many suspects. Countless anti-demon splinter cells were probably responsible for producing thousands of hate mongering human suspects. Yet only one image came to my mind: A non-human.
I returned to the car. Briana had waited there in the passenger seat.
“We’ve got to get back to Brahms.” Damn, I knew we shouldn’t have left him alone--again.
“What do you suspect, Caitlin?” Briana asked. “Mollini..?”
“No, I don’t; someone a lot closer to home, actually. Do you know where Manners is?” I didn’t wait for her response. I began to answer my own question. “He’s not at home keeping watch over Brahms. And he is sure as hell isn’t here--like he was supposed to have been.”
“He had every reason to leave the scene, Caitlin. What could he have done once the police cars arrived?”
“I think it’s more like what he ‘had’ done. He had access to the house.”
Briana frowned. “What do you mean? Did Yilosk leave him a key?”
I grimaced and shook my head. “You know what I mean. That damn teleportation thing he does.”
“And what motive would he have?”
“I’m still not sure. But we better get back to your apartment and make sure Brahms is safe.”
Seventeen
I allowed myself a few extra hours sleep the next day, the start of my first weekend in my new reality. I had hoped the downtime might give me fresh insight into my stalled investigations. Being Saturday, a day off for the Preternatural Crime Division, I could at least take comfort that AD Grant would not be assigning me any new cases.
Awake by six, but groggy I enjoyed a few moments of lustful playtime, imagining Grant’s naked body lying next to mine on weekends like this. These dreams faded, though, as soon as I pondered how mad he would be at me for not arresting Yilosk. I guess I was doing a pretty good job at beating myself up for not arresting him on my own. If I had, Yilosk would be alive in a cell somewhere instead of crammed in a drawer at the morgue. The more I thought, the more it ate at me. Because I had not officially reported Yilosk’s involvement in the recent terror spree, I had no right to take the case away from the local PD. I could only wait for Monday to contact the coroner and sweet talk him or her into giving me an exact time of death. And the reason I needed that info was to alleviate another nagging concern of mine, that being Judge Manners’s possible involvement in Yilosk’s death. At least Manners wasn’t stupid enough to harm Brahms. But he did choose an awkward time to disappear. Briana said it’s not unusual for Manners to leave without announcement and maybe it’s the truth. I guess that’s why most people don’t like the truth; it tends to screw with your preconceptions. Nevertheless, if Yilosk’s death had occurred prior to Manners’s watch, I would be forced to eliminate him as a suspect.
Further contemplation gave rise to more self doubt however. If Manners were innocent, there had to be a killer on the loose out there. My gut told me Yilosk simply did not fall on a bar of soap and hit his head in the bath. So how would I go about finding anyone connected to the terrorist cells without Yilosk’s help? The answer was so obviously clear: A vision. Yet my last clairvoyant glimpse had been fuzzy. Briana had promised me my efforts at purification would be rewarded. I reasoned this meant sharper clarity concerning visions, possibly even enhanced control of my other gifts like telekinesis. But how much longer could I afford to wait?
As I tumbled in and out of my comforter, I finally realized sleeping in had not resulted the R&R I had pined for. By seven fifteen I had stumbled out of bed and into one of Agent Diggs’s luxurious terry cloth robes. By the time I hit the shower, concern over Brahms and Charlize negated much of that creature comfort. Also weighing in heavily on the guilt meter was my sudden inheritance of Agent Diggs’s life, her home… her clothes. I was Goldilocks without the golden hairdo. I had slept in her bed, eaten her porridge and flipped through four hundred channels of her HD TV.
When I rummaged through her bathroom linen closet to find shampoo, I felt a sharp sting on my back. Soon the sting began to itch. Backscratcher to the rescue! It hung like a champion’s sword next to a majestic, gold-rimmed vanity mirror. After a few passes, I realized the itching, stinging had only gotten worse. I popped my right arm out of my robe to inspect the source of discomfort in the mirror suspecting to find a bug bite. Instead, I found art.
It was a tattoo: A purplish, key shaped device. It also looked like a cross with a loop on top. I had to wonder if the branding had taken place at The Star of the Sea. Now, I’ve been to some clubs in my time and they can get pretty ingenious with admission stamps. But this took the prize. Had someone been able to brand me while I was enraptured in Charlize’s thrall? I doubted it. I was pretty homophobic when it came to a stranger’s touch. Even when I had been rubber stamped on the back of my hand, I literally felt the ink biding its time on me like an unwanted chaperone. I had to wonder I had been the recipient of yet another gift.
Searches on the Internet produced an answer I didn’t quite warm to. The symbol etched into my right shoulder was an Ankh, often associated with the Goddess Isis. One site said it was the Egyptian word for mirror. Metaphorically speaking, the Ankh symbolized how life and death mirror each other.
I thought of what Charlize said about my arrival to this world. She had little doubt I was Isis herself or a pretty good facsimile. Had she either intentionally or unintentionally bestowed this title upon me with her mind, possibly branding me with a symbol as well? It didn’t quite make sense. She feared bringing this identity to light because it would expose me to great danger. I could only fathom the body art had come from my dream world. That brought the lotus flowers to my mind. She said they were mirrors in themselves, depicting the existence of two separate realities.
My head spun with possibilities while I showered. When I stepped out, I fell flat on my face onto tile. It was then that things really came into focus.
Enraptured in my vision, I saw, tasted, felt and smelled the room I had fallen into. I could feel its dampness, mustiness. Despite its shadows, the room portended no danger therein of itself. Sort of like the way I felt when the strange blue man played the piano for Charlize. I felt no fear of him as long as he was connected to Charlize. She converted whatever peculiarities he had into familiarity. Maybe this was just an illusion, but it felt so real. So in this same manner, I could sense Charlize’s presence in this room. Consequently, I did not fear the room’s shadow. She slowly seeped her way into the room, manifesting herself in my mind, first. I could hear her sing before I saw her. I heard the notes, basked in their melody, drank in their joyful affirmations. Until the intruder appeared…
One minute, Charlize appeared before me as bright as daylight, decked out in the same pink and white combo she had worn last night. The next, she existed as nothing more than a silhouette. Her voice had become tinny, dissonant to the one I had grown to love. I could feel her fear.
She was standing face to face with him. He overshadowed her. He was Mollini. The abrupt cadence of piano conveyed he had tapped into Charlize’s gift as well. I tried to see who had been playing the instrument but Mollini cast a long shadow, engulfing the whole room, swallowing it in deafening silence. The bastard had stopped Charlize by ending her music. And now engulfed by the same silent darkness, I laid immobile on the floor, paralyzed by the realization of Mollini’s true mission in this reality. He had been sent here to destroy Charlize.
~ * ~
I just had to work off the tension. It sent me scurryin
g from my comfort zone into the throes of hell--the gym.
I needed time to think in silence while my body worked off the jolt of adrenaline that had followed my vision.
I had asked it for it and I had gotten it.
A big piece of the jigsaw had fallen into place.
I knew why Mollini was brought here.
I could guess by my new body art why I had been brought here as well.
I thought of the one person I could confide in.
I caught his well-toned figure from the corner of my eyes as I huffed and puffed on the Stairmaster a.k.a. the torture rack. The buff dark haired man I had flirted with during my initial gym visit waited patiently for me to acknowledge him.
A smiled tugged at the corners of my mouth, knocking all thoughts of Briana from my mind. I read his nametag. The hunk’s name was Tim.
As I smiled and said hello, I realized this man perceived me to be the Agent Diggs of his world. I therefore, was not the out of town twin sister. I had to drop a degree or two of my cordiality. I stiffened my back and returned my gaze to the instrument panel perched atop the torture device.
He apologized for interrupting my workout.
“Oh, no problem,” I said, or maybe wheezed. If I were to keep up my pretense, I would have to take command of this workout. Show the Stairmaster who was boss.
I tapped the keypad without reservation. It then proceeded to show me who was boss.
My legs turned to lead as the super sized rat wheel kicked it up a notch. My thighs burned. My sides ached. My lungs gasped. A pool of sweat beaded off my forehead and into my eyes. I shook my head like a wet dog. I groaned all the while.
Tim stood there in silence for a full minute. He finally unfolded his arms and spoke.
“Hey, this is unlike you, Diggs. You have a bad night or something?”
The informality of Tim’s rapport told me this man had many casual conversations with my dearly departed doppelganger. Yet, the fact he called her Diggs led me to believe none of the conversations ever took place in the nude.
I turned my head toward him and blinked rapidly to see. “Oh, I’m just fine. I had trouble sleeping that’s all.” I must have sounded like a woman falling from a plane. The timbre of my voice had risen in pitch in response to the pinching sensation in my lungs.
This seemed to excite Tim. My tone of voice caused him to unconsciously cock his head to one side and stare as if he were a German Sheppard in heat. I turned away before he could wag his tongue.
But what he said next had nothing to do with trying to bed me.
“It’s a shame about Yilosk. He was a great customer, you know.”
“Ah, yes. Josef.” I could only hope he would follow up his statement, I had no idea if I was supposed to have been a close acquaintance of Yilosk’s or not.
“Yeah… a real shame… It’s been all over the evening news. Freaky, you know, meeting your maker in that way.”
“In what way…?”
“Falling in the shower like that.” He shrugged his humongous shoulders to supposedly indicate he didn’t want to get into details.
I felt a coldness wash over me. I had felt Tim’s emotions. Suddenly he had become evasive. It didn’t seem plausible that police would release a cause of death so soon. I doubted the coroner could have worked so expeditiously and I also doubted police would be so forthcoming to the media. I felt as if Tim knew some things he shouldn’t have. I nodded for him to continue, wondering if he were also gauging my reactions to see what a police investigator might know about Yilosk’s death.
“You know I just hope for Yilosk’s sake he went fast. His family must feel horrible.”
“I’m sorry you lost a good customer, Tim.” I pushed a button to end the cycle of pain. Apparently Tim had bought into my impersonation of his Agent Diggs. I could read him not as an empath; but as an investigator. He clearly wanted to see how much I knew. I stepped off the machine and headed with Tim in tow to the juice bar.
I downed half a glass of kiwi juice, eyeing Tim surreptitiously. Yes, he was following me like a lost puppy. But not one who wanted a doggie treat. I could only surmise he would persist to press me for information until I could wiggle out of this jam.
I raised my glass in a toast for Josef.
He smiled, but not with his eyes.
I excused myself to shower.
“Hey, we could meet up out here after you done if you want to hear some funny stories about Yilosk. You know, I really feel bad about his passing. I know not all of my clients warmed to him.” He lowered his eyes and pointed a finger at his barrel-sized chest. “But I was never one of those types. I never hated someone simply because they were different.”
I told him I had a dinner date and would shower at home. In fact, because of my branding, I guess I would be showering at home from now on.
My eyes scanned the clientele. Nearly all human from what I could tell. I pointed at my chest. “Hey, it’s all what’s in here that counts, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “You got that right.”
But I left wondering if I really did. If Tim was somehow part of a terrorist cell, perhaps the very one who might have killed Josef Yilosk, I had just danced the liar’s waltz. Tim would know very well that I had made a deal with Yilosk. I had to believe it was the very reason someone decided to shut up the little red minion for good.
~ * ~
The pancakes took some of the edge off. Briana served them up with butter and syrup. The little plastic decanter shaped like a deer almost made me tear up. Briana definitely knew the meaning of maternal. Seated across from me at her kitchen table, I felt more and more like we were family. She caught my gaze. I felt she could read me. My embarrassment forced me to sever the Hallmark moment.
“Hey,” I asked, “what about my purification?”
“I can see the aura of stress around you, Caitlin. Maybe I’ve been too harsh on you.”
I put my hand over hers. On second thought, I’d take her comfort. I realized it was the very reason I came to her today. I had to share the news, for better or worse. We were a team. Before I began, I cocked my head to one side and winked.
She caught my drift. “Don’t worry. Brahms is sleeping upstairs. I think he stayed up all night watching the Science Channel.”
“Good,” I said, “I don’t need him putting his avocados all over my pancakes anyway.”
We shared a laugh before I told her everything about my vision and curious body art.
When I finished, she seemed unfazed.
“I guess this sort of thing happens in this world all the time.”
“Oh, yes. We’re visited by madmen and goddesses all the time here.”
“Then, why are you so calm? You know we have to protect Charlize… somehow… someway. Funny thing is, she thinks I’m the one who needs protection.”
“We’ll plot a way, Caitlin. And if you are indeed a second coming of Isis, we’ll be all the much better for it.”
“But I don’t know what powers a goddess has. Will it be enough to stop Mollini? Maybe we’ll have to petition assistance. I hate to go the Bureau, but I will if I have to…”
“Maybe we’ll be able to stop Mollini by finding Yilosk’s killers.”
“That’s another thing.”
“Oh. You’re not still insinuating Manners’s involvement are you?”
“I will have to rule him out. But while I’m doing that, he could show a sign of faith by telling me what he did with his son.”
Briana grimaced. I had struck a nerve. She stirred some honey into her tea.
She explained how Manners had put his son Gabriel into what I might liken to a half way house. In essence, from what Briana said, it was a special correctional facility for juvenile demons. “He’s free to leave, Caitlin. He wasn’t thrown yelling and screaming into a hell dimension if that’s what you were worried about.”
“So what is Manners doing about that?”
She knew what I meant.
“He sa
ys it will take time for the wounds to heal.”
“How about jumpstarting that timetable? If Manners agrees to take his son to Charlize’s holi-concerts I might finally trust him.”
“I suppose it’s viable. He is not guilty of any crimes in this reality.”
I felt torn. Half of me wanted to lock Gabriel away for life. He had killed nearly a half dozen people in my reality. Hell, he had attempted to kill me. However, I understood his reasoning. Manners had abandoned him; the hurt, the hate, and most of all, the betrayal.
I had supposed Mollini felt the same about Brahms. He had been abandoned as well, but I couldn’t help but feel the situations differed dramatically. It was as if Mollini had been raised to be evil incarnate. He was a killing machine pure and simple. That was made crystal clear by my vision. He would attempt to kill Charlize, someone he had never even met, with contempt, hatred and finality. Cold and calculating…
Gabriel had killed with a purpose. He wanted to pin crimes upon his delinquent father.
But Mollini’s hatred apparently knew no boundaries. I couldn’t humanize his mission to destroy Charlize. I might have understood him better if he simply wanted to take vengeance on his father.
We ended our conversation when I received a phone call. Briana promised me she would speak with Manners. But more importantly, she assured me we would protect Charlize--at any cost.
The arrogant tone of voice on the other end of the phone left me little doubt as to the identity of the caller. PI Sweeney. He said he had some Intel for me. Good thing because I had given him some of Agent Diggs’s hard earned money to get it.
We met in a diner parking lot. This time he invited me into his car.
“So, do we at least know who’s behind the terror acts?”
“I think I have something better for you, Agent Diggs. The terror acts are just a preliminary to a main course of destruction, if you get my drift.”
