Seams in Reality

by Alex Siegel

  "How did your ancestor die?" Charley asked.

  Pamela turned to her. "He was shot. According to legend, he dueled with another man to settle a dispute over a woman, but that was never documented. The newspaper report simply states his body was found in the woods."

  "So, this Edward person might've killed him and taken the book."

  "That's possible, if there really was a book."

  The sorcerers looked at each other.

  "We need to know more about Edward," Tonya said. "What's this?"

  She took a framed photograph out of the footlocker. Andrew and Charley crowded around.

  The photo showed the unit Serkan's ancestor had served in. The men were arranged in neat rows, but the photo had faded so much, the faces were barely visible. Names were typed on the bottom, and they were much easier to read.

  "Here it is," Tonya said. "Edward Chesler. He shouldn't be too hard to track down."

  "Except he's probably dead," Andrew said. "This picture was taken during World War I."

  "He'll have relatives who might know about the famous book. I bet Serkan went down the same road." She turned to Pamela. "Thank you, Mrs. Kaba. We'll be on our way."

  Tonya, Andrew, and Charley made their way out of the house.

  Andrew glanced at the setting sun. It had been a very long day, and he just wanted to get a nice hotel room and watch television for the rest of the night.

  "What happened?" Blake said.

  The poor light gave him a spooky appearance. His gray hair was a little wilder and his eyebrows were a little bushier when seen in silhouette. He seemed to lurch out of the darkness.

  "We discovered a letter describing the journal," Tonya said. "We believe it fell into the hands of Edward Chesler, a soldier in World War I."

  He nodded. "Interesting."

  "Can we call it quits for the night?" Andrew said. "I'm exhausted."

  "Me, too," Charley said.

  Tonya turned to her apprentices. "I suppose so. I have to admit I'm pretty tired too. The trail won't be any colder tomorrow."

  "We could all use some rest," Blake said. "I had a long trip from St. Louis. Let's find a hotel."

  "Two hotels. One for us and one for you."

  "Huh? Why?"

  "I don't want to sleep in the same building as you," Tonya said. "I don't trust you that much. Find your own hotel."

  Blake stiffened. "I'm hurt."

  "You'll survive."

  Chapter Sixteen

  Andrew was lying in his hotel bed watching television. The show was about modern day gold miners in Alaska, and he found it strangely engaging even though he had never had much interest in mining. It was a view into a different world.

  He sensed Charley and Tonya's energy signatures just on the other side of the wall in the next room. Tonya had insisted they sleep close together for their mutual protection. Even though she still projected confidence, Andrew had gotten the sense she was shaken.

  Andrew had to share his room with Dan, and Andrew looked over at the BPI agent. He was playing a game on his phone on his own bed.

  "What do you think about what happened today?" Andrew said.

  "It was crazy," Dan replied without looking up from his game, "but most of the stuff sorcerers do is crazy."

  "You really believe that?"

  "You bend reality. It's not normal."

  Andrew furrowed his brow. Unfortunately, he had to agree. "What about Serkan? Do you think he's guilty?"

  "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" Dan said. "I don't even know why we're out here. We can't bring all those dead people back to life."

  "But the explanation could affect Keene's fate."

  Dan shrugged in a disinterested manner.

  And these are the people who are responsible for protecting me, Andrew said.

  He heard footsteps in the hallway, and they corresponded to Charley's energy. A few seconds later, Andrew heard a knock on the door.

  He had taken a shower and was just wearing his underwear. He quickly slid under the bed sheet to cover himself, but he left his chest exposed.

  "Dan," Andrew said, "can you get that? It's Charley."

  Dan gave him a funny look. "That's what I'm talking about. Crazy."

  He opened the door.

  "Hi, Dan," Charley said. "Can you give us a few minutes?"

  "I'll just get some fresh air," Dan said.

  He left, and she entered. She was wearing fuzzy slippers and pink pajamas with long sleeves. The floppy pajamas didn't show off her slender body. Her hair was still damp from being washed.

  Andrew gave her a curious look. "Hi."

  "Just came to say good night," Charley said. "It's been a rough day. I'm really glad you were with me for it. I don't think I could've handled this mess alone. All those bodies...." She frowned.

  "I still have a hard time believing it really happened. I keep expecting to wake up from the nightmare."

  "And I'm starting to wonder if Serkan was a bad guy after all. First the gun, then the book. Maybe we were wrong about him."

  Andrew looked down. "Yeah."

  "If you sense anything dangerous in the area, just yell. Tonya and I will hear you through the wall. Well, good night." Charley sighed. "We need to sleep." She turned towards the door.

  "Wait. Can I get a good night kiss?" he said in a half-joking manner.

  She paused, turned, and came back to him. He could hardly believe she was going to kiss him, and he puckered his lips in anticipation.

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "Night." She left the room.

  Andrew sagged. Better than no kiss at all, he thought.

  * * *

  Andrew parked the limousine in front of a farmhouse the next morning. It was painted red, but the paint had peeled off the wood in spots. Tall weeds surrounded the farmhouse on all sides. Cabbage plants were growing in a field beside the farm, but poor irrigation had made the leaves limp. Some sheep were standing in another field, and they were grazing on native grass.

  The blue sedan containing Blake parked beside the limousine.

  Andrew felt warm sunlight on his face. He had slept fairly well but still lacked energy. He had a grim feeling it would be another day of upsetting news.

  A farmer was repairing the wooden fence which surrounded the sheep. He wore blue coveralls, and a cap covered his bald head. He struck Andrew as too old to be working on a farm.

  Tonya walked over to the farmer. Andrew, Charley, and Blake followed, taking care not to step on the cabbage plants.

  "Hello!" Tonya said.

  The farmer straightened up and brushed off his hands. "Can I help you?"

  "I hope so. We're looking for a very rare book, and you might have some information about it."

  "The only book I got here is the Bible."

  "Oh." Tonya said. "Actually, your ancestor, Edward Chesler, may have owned the book. He fought in World War I. The book may be worth a lot of money."

  "He was my great-grandfather, but I never inherited anything," the farmer said with some bitterness. "It all went to my brother."

  "Where can we find him?"

  "He was shot two weeks ago. Murdered in his own bed."

  Tonya exchanged glances with Andrew and Charley. Andrew remembered the gun Serkan had purchased around that time.

  "I'm sorry," Tonya said.

  The farmer shrugged. "I'm not. Bastard never gave me a penny even when my family was starving."

  Andrew looked around but didn't see evidence of a family. Probably an ugly story there, he thought.

  "We'll stop by his house anyway," Tonya said. "Maybe somebody else knows about the book. What's the address?"

  "Canton. Take the highway north...."

  * * *

  Andrew parked the limousine in front of a huge plantation home. White columns in front went from the ground to the roof two stories above. The windows had traditional black shutters. A wide porch went around the entire house on the first floor, and there were plenty of balconies
on the second floor.

  "Nice," Andrew said.

  He waited for the blue sedan to park, and then he got out. He admired the property as everybody else got organized. It was like a scene from a historic movie.

  He expected the house had once been part of a working plantation, but now a town surrounded it. A private forest of mature magnolia and oak trees shielded the house from nosy neighbors.

  "We'll stick with the same story," Tonya said. "We're book collectors, and we want to buy the journal."

  "All of us?" Andrew said.

  She looked at him, Charley, Blake, Dan, and the other two BPI agents in turn.

  "We're a wealthy family of book collectors," Tonya said, "and the agents are our bodyguards."

  She climbed a brick staircase, crossed the spacious porch, and knocked on doors which were a few feet taller than usual.

  A man in a tuxedo answered the door. "May I help you?" he asked in a condescending manner.

  "Yes," Tonya said. "We're looking for a Mrs. Chesler."

  "And your name is?"

  "Tonya. We have a business proposal that she will find very enticing, and we're not selling anything. We're buying."

  The butler looked out at the group of people. The four sorcerers were standing at the door while the BPI agents had remained near the cars.

  "Wait here," the butler said in a tone of resignation.

  Andrew sighed.

  He looked at Blake. For a man with a terrible reputation, he had been on his best behavior so far. His uneven gray beard, wrinkled face, and mild expression made him look like a kindly old man. A dark blue shirt and brown slacks would've fit in almost any social setting.

  Andrew had to ask a question which had been gnawing at him. Now seemed like as good a time as any.

  "When we first met, you told me your father knew my grandfather," Andrew said.

  Blake raised his eyebrows. "Yes."

  Andrew couldn't miss the look of warning from Tonya. He would've preferred to talk to Blake without her around, but that wasn't likely to happen. Andrew would just have to step carefully.

  "They worked together?" Andrew said.

  "Gustav shared his wisdom with any other sorcerer who cared to visit him. He was extremely unusual in that regard. My father took advantage of that opportunity many times."

  "But you didn't?"

  "No," Blake said. "I had my own separate life. Call it the stubborn independence of youth. In retrospect, I wish I had spent much more time with Gustav, but alas, that ship has sailed."

  The butler returned. He escorted Tonya, Andrew, Charley, and Blake around the exterior of the house to Mrs. Chesler. She was an elderly woman, bent with age. Black, lacy clothes and a black vail covered every inch of skin, and she even wore black gloves. She was sitting on a rocking chair and staring at a grove of Pecan trees. A glass of dark liquor was on a table within easy reach.

  "You want to buy something from me?" Mrs. Chesler said.

  "A book," Tonya said. "A journal, actually, and we're willing to pay a substantial sum. Edward Chesler found it in Europe."

  "Edward?"

  "He fought in World War I. He was an ancestor of your husband."

  "Oh," Mrs. Chesler said. "All that memorabilia was sold to a collector years ago. It was cluttering up the house. I couldn't stand to look at it anymore."

  Tonya furrowed her brow. "Do you remember if there was a book?"

  "Not specifically, but I wouldn't be surprised if it was in the pile. A young man came by a couple of weeks ago asking for the same book. He had a shaved head and a pretty scarf. Why the sudden interest?"

  "The book's fame must be spreading. Do you know the name of the collector?"

  "I'm sure my butler can find that for you." Mrs. Chesler waved towards the man in the tuxedo.

  Tonya paused. "Thank you, but before we go, I have one other question. If you don't mind my asking, how did your husband die?"

  "An intruder broke into the house in the middle of the night, Tuesday before last. My husband was shot while he was lying next to me in bed."

  "That's awful! Was it a robber?"

  "No," Mrs. Chesler said. "Nothing was stolen. I still have no idea why it happened, and I didn't see the murderer. The police went over the entire estate with a magnifying glass but found no useful evidence." She took a big drink from her glass.

  "Was this before or after the young man asked about the book?" Tonya said.

  "Right after. Do you think he was involved?"

  Andrew and Charley exchanged worried glances.

  "I'm sure it was just a coincidence," Tonya said. "We'll leave you alone now. Sorry to bother you."

  The sorcerers walked around the house to return to the cars. In the meantime, the butler went inside to get the address of the memorabilia collector.

  When he could speak freely, Andrew said, "I don't understand. Why would Serkan kill that man? Serkan already knew the book wasn't here."

  "It's obvious," Blake said. "Simple revenge. A Chesler shot Serkan's ancestor, so he shot one in return."

  Andrew frowned. The circumstances were certainly incriminating.

  Charley shook her head. "I don't believe it. Let me check something."

  She ran over to the limousine and climbed inside. A moment later, she emerged with a sheaf of papers in her hand. It was the report Dan had printed yesterday. She flipped through the stack until she found the right sheet.

  Charley frowned. "Serkan paid for a hotel room in Woodstock, Georgia that night."

  "We passed that town on the way up here," Blake said. "It's a short drive away."

  Her face fell.

  Andrew wanted to argue on Serkan's behalf, but it was hard to do so. Piece by piece, the evidence against him was mounting.

  The butler came out the front door of the house. With a very straight posture and his chin held high, he walked over to Tonya and handed her a scrap of paper. "The name and address, ma'am."

  "Thank you." She held up the paper. "Our next stop."

  * * *

  Andrew drove past a sign that read, "Southern Museum of the Great Wars." The museum looked like a barn made of bricks. It was so small, he couldn't imagine spending more than an hour inside, if that much. The parking lot had only a couple of cars, but it was still early, and perhaps the museum wasn't even open yet. He hoped he wouldn't have to wait around.

  Andrew parked the limousine directly in front. The blue sedan parked next to him.

  Andrew was the first to the front door, and as he had feared, it was locked. He put his face against the glass and didn't see anybody inside.

  Tonya came up behind him. "Let's look around."

  The group began to walk around the museum. Beautiful forest and parkland surrounded it, and Andrew wouldn't have minded a relaxing stroll in the woods. The latest news about Serkan had rattled Andrew to the core. Creating a banshee by mistake was one thing, but a cold-blooded revenge killing was another. Andrew couldn't believe he had misjudged Serkan so badly.

  A back door was open, and everybody wandered inside. They entered a workshop rather than the museum itself. The shop contained machine tools such as a drill press, a milling machine, a lathe, and a power saw. There was also a section for sewing which included an antique, iron sewing machine and plenty of spare cloth.

  An old man was working with the machines. He had a rifle in a rubber clamp, and he was fiddling with the firing mechanism. He was wearing a green Army uniform which appeared to date from World War II. Some ribbons decorated his chest. A cap allowed a little gray hair to poke out.

  He turned around. "Sorry folks, but the museum isn't open yet. Come back in an hour or so."

  "We're not actually here for the museum," Tonya said. "We're looking for Carlisle Tritt."

  "That's me." Carlisle wiped his hands on a rag. "How can I help you?"

  "A few years ago, you purchased some World War I memorabilia from the Chesler family. It included a book that we're very interested in."

  "A guy
came by a couple of weeks ago asking about the same book. Dressed funny. He wore a scarf, and you don't see that much these days. He had a nice-looking girl on his arm."

  "What did you tell him?" Tonya said.

  "I had to look it up. I found a note about the Chesler purchase five years ago, but it didn't describe a book. It's certainly not in the museum."

  "Oh."

  "But it's possible the book was part of the lot," Carlisle said. "Sometimes I get odd items I can't use in the museum, so I sell them off to other collectors. I have a rare book dealer I call when I come across a real old book like that one."

  Andrew rolled his eyes. This investigation just keeps going, he thought.

  "You sent the guy with the scarf to the book dealer?" Tonya said.

  "Sure did," Carlisle said. "I guess you want his name, too."

  She smiled. "Yes. Thank you."

  * * *

  Andrew parked the limousine in front of a small, two-story office building. It had rounded windows which were so heavily tinted, they were almost opaque. The exterior was made of limestone blocks. Trees shrouded the office building on all sides, and there were no signs out front. It was easy to miss from the road.

  The blue sedan pulled up next to the limousine, and once again, everybody got out. Dan and the other two BPI agents had obviously lost interest in the entire adventure. They walked to a tree and stood in its shade with bored expressions. One of the agents began to smoke a cigarette.

  Tonya, Charley, Andrew, and Blake went into the building. They found Antiquarian Books and Letters on the second floor and went inside.

  A clear plastic barrier separated the room into two sections. The back section contained shelves stuffed with books, and Andrew could already tell the books were very old. Many had bindings which looked like an animal had chewed on them. Some books had suffered from water damage. Loose sheets of yellowed paper stuck out. The barrier appeared air-tight, and he guessed it kept out the excessive Georgian humidity.

  A man in a blue shirt and gray slacks was sitting at a desk in the front section. He was bald except for tufts of hair on the side of his head. His scalp reflected the bright light in the room. He was carefully turning the pages of a very old book, and white gloves kept his skin from touching the paper.

  He looked up. "Hello? I'm sorry, but visitors must make an appointment in advance. I don't take walk-ins."