Itsy-Bitsy Spider

by Dale Mayer

  He hadn’t even begun to test the limits of his abilities yet. He’d always been a good manipulator when he was younger. He loved making people do what they didn’t want to do. As a young child, he’d been a bully. As an older child, he’d become a master manipulator.

  Once he’d learned the psychology behind all this stuff, it was so easy to get people to do what he wanted them to do. He understood what buttons to push, what pressure to apply, what leverage to use, and they always buckled. Even the big tough guys buckled. He thought that was pretty funny.

  But this, this was something else again. He’d only found out by accident years ago. He was pretty sure that’s when he’d first connected with this woman. Who the hell called themselves Queenie anyway? If she was queenly, maybe. But that would imply she had an arrogance and a presence. Instead, this woman was a basket case. She was two steps from being homeless, worked in an amusement park, ate the most god-awful food and was turning psychic tricks in a bloody circus tent for five bucks.

  He laughed, got up, and poured himself an espresso. The espresso machine had been a gift from somebody who hadn’t wanted to gift it. He laughed. “Best gift ever.”

  He took his cup out to the deck and surveyed the pool area. He frowned at the long grass. Surely the lawn care company should have been here yesterday. But he had strict instructions. He didn’t want to be bothered on Wednesdays. That was one of his days for strategy. He was big on strategy. He had a job, like everybody else, but he was wondering how quickly he could ditch that too.

  “Definitely a strategy day.” He turned and walked back to his big whiteboard. He had a list of names he was working with. Some would be a little harder work than others, and some would be nothing more than practice runs. None of these cases would benefit him in any monetary way, so he would need to find a couple cases that would. It was the only way he could ditch his day job.

  There was Brendan, one of his earlier victims. He put a little checkmark beside his name. There was the dead woman in the lake. With that mention, he put a straight line through her name. He considered that one of his best successes. Bonnie’s case had gone off like a dream. Hardly any work at all. It was all about finding the right victim. Timmy was an interesting case too. He’d been easy to sicken, … almost too easy. But how long before someone figured it out?

  He looked at the next name on his list and brooded. “I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to you yet.” He considered that one of the most important things about being a strategist: understanding his own weakness. To allow ego to interfere in his job would get him caught.

  “Although how anybody will catch me, I don’t know.” He let out a belly laugh, walked over and turned on his stereo system. Every good strategist needed a symphony orchestra to accompany them.

  As the beautiful sounds of Mozart filled the room, he picked a name on his board and walked to his computer to start researching. Who knew what he would find? But the chase was almost as good as the end result.

  *

  Kirk walked into the office late. He updated his notes on the case of the missing mother at the lake. And he checked his messages to find already several emails from the sheriff. He frowned. “Sheriff, you are in early.” He read the messages, then picked up his phone and called him. “I just read your emails.”

  “Yeah, we’re up with the birds here.” The sheriff chuckled. “It’s only you city folk who get up after the best part of the day is gone already.”

  Privately Kirk agreed. But he wasn’t willing to argue about it. “Still no sign of an accident along the road into town?”

  “No. We’ve got vehicles up there, a couple deputies walking the area, looking to see if anybody ran off the road and into a ravine,” the sheriff said. “We’ve gone back to the address, checked out the house and walked the property again, and we’ve looked along the edge of the lake. She had a dock, and we checked out all along there but didn’t find a body floating in the water. By now it’s possible she already sank.”

  “Is that the most likely scenario, do you think?”

  “Except for the vehicle, yes,” the sheriff said. “That’s what I’m concerned about. That would put her behind the wheel, and most likely a medical emergency took her off the road somewhere. But, so far, we haven’t found out where.”

  “I spoke to the daughter,” Kirk said. “She’s going to run to the shelter and pick up the dogs. Apparently her mom never went anywhere without them.”

  “That would take us back to it being a drowning. But then what happened to the vehicle?” the sheriff wondered aloud. “I do like a good puzzle, but not when there’s a bad ending on the table.”

  “How big is the lake we’re talking about?”

  “Not huge,” the sheriff said. “But too big to dredge and would take a big slice of our budget if divers have to search the whole thing. It is full throughout summer. It’s a popular swimming spot. If she drowned, unfortunately we’ll probably get a phone call when somebody finds the body.”

  “On the other hand, that’s also a good thing because then it’s closure for the family.”

  “True enough. So is the daughter coming up here then?”

  Kirk frowned. “I didn’t ask her. But maybe she should.” He checked his watch. “I imagine she’s already gone to get the dogs though. She didn’t have a vehicle and was trying to borrow one, I think, or get a friend to drive her up.”

  “Then I imagine she’ll head to her mother’s house too. I wouldn’t mind her talking to a deputy while she’s up there, to see if anything’s missing.”

  “I’ll send her an email or try calling her phone, and let her know that’s what you would like. And here’s her phone number.” He read off the number and gave her name to the sheriff.

  “Good enough. We can call her too, if she comes into range.”

  “Right.” Kirk ended the call, then quickly called the daughter. By luck she answered.

  “A friend is driving me up,” she explained.

  “Good enough. The sheriff wants you to meet at deputy at your mother’s house to see if anything’s missing, in case there was a burglary or if she packed a suitcase or something.” He heard the daughter catch her breath.

  Weakly, she said, “That is probably a good idea, but I can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

  “No, but it needs to be done. He also wants to get a little more information from you, if he can. They’re checking the highway right now to see if a vehicle might have run off the road. That would be one of the most viable reasons neither your mother nor her car are around.”

  “Right. Maybe I’ll call you when I get to the house,” she said hopefully.

  Understanding that she needed this connection to him right now, he agreed.

  When he hung up, he entered his notes into the case and then shut down the file. There wasn’t anything he could do from here, and, as much as he wouldn’t mind taking a run out there, the sheriff was already working the area. If it ended up being foul play, that was a different story. Kirk could always take a look at the evidence himself. There was nothing like being at the scene to see how much damage was done and what forensic evidence might be available to collect. The sheriff wouldn’t have access to the teams Kirk had at his disposal.

  Thinking about that, he called the sheriff back. “Did anybody see signs of blood? Any furniture overturned? Anything along that line?”

  “I don’t believe so,” the sheriff said. “My deputies are looking on the road still. I can give them a call and confirm, but they didn’t mention it.”

  “If there is, I might take a trip and have a look myself.”

  “If you got any free time, then fly at it. Most of the time all I ever hear is how you guys are too busy to visit.”

  Kirk chuckled. “And I do have cases stacked up high on the side, but that doesn’t mean her case is any less important.”

  “Glad to hear that,” the sheriff said. “If you decide to come, stop on by.” This time it was the sheriff who hung up.


  Kirk got up and walked over to the coffeemaker, just down the hall. Several officers were hanging around. They made way for him so he could grab a cup. He filled it to the brim, and, as he left, one of the guys asked if he’d seen Queenie again.

  “Nope, I haven’t. Any reason why you’re asking?” He didn’t even bother turning around, just kept on walking.

  The one guy said, “Wouldn’t mind her assistance.”

  The others just laughed. “Queenie was good while she had it, but then she lost it, remember?”

  One of the guys hushed the other one up. But Kirk had heard it all before. Even worse, his sister would just repeat their same warning. She’d hated Queenie. And never gave him a reason why. But then, as Queenie would have said, she was a bitch. His sister kept telling him for years to drop her. And he hadn’t listened. Once they broke up, she did nothing but crow about how right she’d been the whole time.

  He hated to say it, but Queenie was right. His sister was a bitch.

  “She doesn’t do that anymore.” The men were still chuckling as Kirk left them behind.

  The trouble was, if Queenie didn’t do it anymore, then she wouldn’t have emailed him. Why she’d emailed him, he didn’t know. But it certainly put him in a tough spot. Although it might have led to something, it wouldn’t be something easy to close.

  Back at his desk he sorted through the three big cases there, multiple rapes where they suspected it was one guy. Another was a rash of break-ins that were getting more and more violent. That one really concerned him. There were no rapes, attacks or murders associated with the break-ins, but the perp was escalating. He had killed the dog in the last house, and he had interrupted the young couple making out on the couch. He’d taken off, but there was a good chance that the next time he wouldn’t. When anything like this escalated, things just got ugly. Which was what worried him about Queenie—this was bad and would only get uglier.

  Chapter 7

  Thursday …

  Queenie was grateful when she reached the last person standing in line. She didn’t know if people had spread the word about her or if it was just the craziness of the world around her, but people were coming in asking for answers to everything—if they should buy stocks, ditch their boyfriends, try again for another pregnancy. And one guy even asked her if he should eat his lunch because it had dairy in it. She’d never seen the likes of this before. And, because of it, she was exhausted just dealing with all the different energies.

  She didn’t know if Carlos had done new advertising, but, if he had, he was off the mark. Sure it was bringing in money, but money wasn’t everything. At least not to her. What it seemed like Carlos was doing was sending everybody her way with a silly question. She figured next he’d want her to raise the price so people would still come but pay more. He was doing just fine with her abilities as it was, but it was exhausting to her. She might have to change her own agreement. If he kept bringing in as many people as he was, she would need more downtime, which ultimately meant less money. Carlos just didn’t get that.

  Speaking of which, as she sat here in her chair, enjoying the peace and quiet of the room, even now filled with the energies she hadn’t had a chance to cleanse the space, Carlos walked in. His cries were immediate.

  “What? Nobody here?”

  “Thank God, nobody’s here.” She made no attempt to hide the fatigue in her voice. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re making my life crazy. I can’t do as much as you’re trying to get me to do.”

  He stared at her in surprise, but a crafty gleam was in his eye. “What are you talking about?”

  She shook her head. “Don’t pull that. I know what you’re up to. You’ve been running all kinds of ads, trying to bring in more and more people. Well, today it’s been nuts. I’ve had more people than ever, but what you’re forgetting is, I’m only one person. If you want to bring in a shyster or somebody else to take my place, who can do what you want them to do, great. But if you expect me to handle the influx of extra people, then no. I’m done.”

  The crafty look disappeared. “No, no,” he wailed, his hands waving in front of him. “I didn’t think it would work that well.”

  “What would work that well?”

  “The Facebook marketing I’ve been doing.”

  She stared at him. “Really? You’re pouring money into Facebook again? I thought those ads stopped being effective?”

  “I made some changes,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “They are doing well again.”

  She thought about her afternoon and nodded. “If it sent all those people in, then it certainly is more effective. But again, it’s still just me here. You have to give me more downtime and less people. You don’t understand how draining it is.” But of course he didn’t—he believed she was a fake anyway.

  “So, don’t make such a big deal out of it. Make the shit up,” he cried out, as if hating the idea of losing any money because she was tired.

  “If I weren’t the real thing,” she said sadly, “I’d have no problem making shit up. But I am the real thing, and I have a level of integrity that obviously you don’t give a damn about.”

  He was almost at the edge of the tent when he heard her words. He stopped, twisted and rolled his eyes at her before ducking his head.

  She leaned back in her chair and looked around the room. She’d called this place home for a couple years now. And even now she didn’t quite know that she was ready to leave. But maybe something showed on her face, so he took a more conciliatory stance.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be so tired.”

  “Of course I’m tired,” she said. “Already too tired to even argue with you. I’ve told you before how it wears me down.”

  “At least you’re making more money,” he said hopefully.

  “Not enough,” she said quietly. “Definitely not enough.” She pushed herself from the chair, grabbing her wallet and cell phone. “I’m going home. Put somebody else in here or close it down. I don’t care.”

  He looked around as if to find something to say that would make her stay.

  She shook her head. “Don’t bother. There isn’t anything you could say right now that would keep me here. I’m too damn tired.”

  He nodded. “That’s what you should do. Go home and just rest. We’ll see you in the morning.” And he bolted.

  She groaned. Because tomorrow would be the same as today. She understood his eagerness, but there was only so much she could do. She walked to the tent opening only to turn and stare behind her again. She wondered what the draw was. She had her cell phone and wallet, but she couldn’t help thinking she was forgetting something. She walked back inside and realized she’d left the lunch container.

  She reached down to pick it up. As she lifted it, she stopped and stared. Inside the container was the same spider she’d released before. At least it looked like the same spider. She carefully upended it onto the table. Instead of moving, it just sat there.

  “Have you been inside there all day?” she asked, worried for his sake, which was stupid because she had no clue as to what spiders even needed on a daily basis.

  The spider didn’t appear to do anything or to give a damn about what she said; it just sat there as if uncertain of its new reality.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, again backing away.

  Almost instantly a weird sound vibrated through her mind. She wasn’t sure what it was. She turned back toward the spider, and the sound stopped. Frowning, she slowly pivoted ninety degrees away from the spider. The farther away she went, the more the noise sounded. Not sure what was going on and feeling foolish for the thoughts rippling through her head, she took a step closer to the spider. The sound stopped. From that position she did a full circle around, but there was nothing. When she tested it by moving a foot farther away, immediately there was that weird vibration.

  She glanced at the spider, took a step closer and said, “Are you sending out messages, and that’s yo
ur limit?”

  It just stared at her.

  She looked at it from where she was, wondering if it was even alive. Had it moved since she placed it on the table? Or had she somehow killed the thing? Maybe it was sending out a distress call. That was unsettling to consider. Although she’d heard of people being amplifiers and others being reducers, and some who could transmit and some who could receive, there were some who could do both. She didn’t have a clue if spiders came into the same categories of abilities.

  But then what did man actually know about spiders? There were probably a billion of them in the world, but, with so many different species, who knew what their actual abilities were? And did they have abilities beyond the physical that the doctors and scientists couldn’t see and feel or measure? That was the question that always stumped her. It wasn’t like she could be tested for the stuff she did. Sure, if somebody could sit in another room and hold a card, and if her abilities felt like cooperating, they might tell her what that card was, but chances were also good she’d be wrong.

  She walked closer and of course couldn’t hear anything. “So are you sending now?”

  From behind her, she heard a voice call out, “What are you doing?”

  She turned to see a boy somewhere around eight, maybe ten years old. Feeling foolish, she shrugged and said, “Not a whole lot. What are you doing?”

  He stared at her like she was an insect herself, and then he spun away and disappeared.

  She didn’t know why his attitude should bother her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen hundreds of the same type of glances before. Her whole life had been as one of the outcasts of the world. She turned back to the spider only to realize it was gone now. Relieved it wasn’t dead, she hurried back toward the tent entrance. When she reached the same spot as before, again the weird crackling filled her mind. She froze and turned, but found no sign of the spider. She didn’t know what to think of this.