by Dan Willis
“So they’re gone,” Sorsha said. It was a statement rather than a question.
“Not necessarily,” Alex said. “They might be underground, or under water, or magically shielded.”
“So we’re back to square one,” she said, boiling anger beneath her voice.
“Sorry.” This last came from Dr. Burnham rather than Alex. “I wish I could tell you how to neutralize the fog, but I just...can’t remember.”
“It’s not your fault, Grandfather,” Karen said, putting her hand on his.
“I know, my girl,” he said.
His voice went on speaking, something about wanting to get Karen out of the city to her Aunts in Connecticut, but Alex wasn’t really listening.
Girl.
Something about that word resonated in his head, like the last peal of a distant echo.
He stood up so fast he sent his chair flying.
“Johansson!” he shouted, finally making the connection.
“Who?” Mendes asked, looking at Alex as if he were insane.
Alex ignored her and turned to Burnham.
“I need to use your phone.”
24
Charlie
”Detective Pak,” Danny’s voice came down the wire almost half an hour later. Alex had called the Central Office and finally managed to talk the operator into getting the number of the house where Danny was leading the investigation into the murder of four lowlifes. Just his luck, Officer Wilkins answered the phone and Alex had to get Sorsha on the line to threaten him before he agreed to put Danny on the call.
“It’s Alex,” he blurted out. “You remember Officer Johansson.”
“Yeah, I know him,” Danny said. “He was with me when we found those trucks last year.”
“Right,” Alex said. “I saw him earlier; he was staking out Dr. Kellin’s house. Would he still be there?”
“I don’t know,” Danny admitted. “It’s not my stakeout so I didn’t make the shift assignments.”
“Is he using a radio car?”
“Of course,” Danny said. “All stake outs and protection details use radio cars in case there’s trouble.”
“Call him,” Alex said. “Right now.”
“Are you all right?”
“Please,” Alex said. “I think the doc and Jessica might be in trouble. I called over there, but no one’s answering. I need you to talk to Johansson for me right now.”
“Okay, Alex,” Danny said. “What do you need to know?”
“When I talked to him, he said that Dr. Kellin was still in the house,” Alex said. “But he also said that ‘the girl’ left. Ask him what the girl looked like.”
“You know what Jessica looks like,” Danny said.
“Just do it, Danny,” Alex said.
“All right,” Danny said. “Stand by, I’ve got to go to my car to use the radio.”
Alex heard the unmistakable sound of a telephone receiver being put down and Danny was gone. He pulled out his watch and flipped open the top; it was just after one in the morning.
“What is it?” Sorsha’s voice intruded on his thoughts. She had left the table and crossed to the front room where Alex stood at the telephone.
“I might need you to give me a ride,” he said.
Sorsha looked back at the table where Redhorn and Mendes were talking with Dr. Burnham.
“We should be finished here soon,” she said. “We can drop you wherever you need to go.”
“Dr. Kellin’s place.”
She nodded.
“You had me put an FBI detail on her house,” Sorsha said. “Just north of the park.”
Alex nodded.
“It shouldn’t take more than a half an hour to get there,” Sorsha said. She gave him a penetrating look, then reached into thin air and produced her silver cigarette case. “Here,” she said, opening it and offering the contents to Alex.
“Thanks,” he said, only just realizing how badly he needed a smoke right now.
“Are you thinking that the missing burglar might return?”
“No,” Alex said, lighting the cigarette.
He explained his visit to the thug’s house while Sorsha magic’ed up her long, black cigarette holder and lit a cigarette of her own.
“And you believe him?” she asked. “About the girl, Lilith?”
“All I know is that it fits with the murder at Charles Grier’s shop,” Alex said, still pressing the phone receiver to his ear. “That guy was as big as I am and twice as broad, and somebody removed his head from his body. Somebody who would need thick socks to wear your shoes.”
“So what does Lilith have to do with Dr. Kellen?”
“The cop watching the house told me that he saw a girl leaving the house,” Alex said. “I assumed he meant Jessica.”
“But what if he saw Lilith?” Sorsha finished.
“Alex, you there?” Danny’s voice came back through the receiver.
“Yeah,” Alex said, focusing his attention back on the receiver. “Go ahead.”
“Get over to Dr. Kellin’s as soon as you can. I’m leaving here as soon as I hang up and Wilkins will call it in to dispatch.”
“What did Johansson say?”
“The girl he saw leaving Dr. Kellin’s was a teenager with platinum blond hair wearing a black skirt with a white shirt.”
Alex swore.
“I told Johansson to go in and sweep the house with his partner right now,” Danny said.
“Call him back,” Alex said. “The doc booby traps some of her doors.”
“Johansson knows about that,” Danny said. “Dr. Kellin removed those when we started watching the house. Now shut up and meet me over there.”
“Right,” Alex said, hanging up.
“Well?” Sorsha said. Her face was a mask of calm, but Alex could see worry in her eyes.
“It was Lilith the cop saw. I need to get over to Dr. Kellin’s right away.”
Sorsha nodded, then turned to where Karen and her grandfather were still talking with Redhorn and Mendes. She motioned Redhorn over and he excused himself from the table.
“You know the alchemy shop we put the watch on?” she asked quietly when he approached.
“Sure,” he nodded, pulling his notebook out of his inside jacket pocket. He flipped a few pages, then read off the address.
“I want you and Mendes to take my car and meet me there,” she said. Then she grabbed Alex by the arm and they both vanished.
All the lights were on in Dr. Kellin’s home when Alex and Sorsha appeared on the sidewalk out front. After the nausea and the dizziness wore off, Alex got to his feet and then helped Sorsha up.
“I really hate when you do that,” he said, supporting her as she swayed on her feet.
“You said you were in a hurry,” she said, leaning against his arm and breathing heavily. “How does Malcom do this all the time?”
Alex had no answer for that, and his mind was elsewhere. He could see shadows moving around inside Dr. Kellin’s house as Johansson and his partner searched the place. Once he was sure Sorsha could stand on her own, he released her arm and headed for the still-open front door.
The jamb had been broken where one of the policemen had kicked it in, and the deadbolt was still set, sticking out of the side of the open door. Beyond the front door, in what would have been the parlor, was Dr. Kellin’s shop. Alex had seen it once or twice, but he usually spent his time downstairs in the lab with Jessica.
The walls of the shop were lined with neat shelves, each with racks of heavy bottles and slender vials. Some were brown glass, others clear, and many had their cork stoppers sealed with lead. Beside the prepared potions were small bags and cans of various dry ingredients and restoratives designed to be diluted with water or alcohol. Along the back of the shop was a low counter with a cash register atop it, standing in front of a curtain that, no doubt, led to the rest of the house.
A fancy screen with an Oriental design stood against the right wall, with a doorway behind
it. Next to the screen was a comfortable-looking couch and an end table piled with periodicals. Alex knew from experience that the room beyond the screen was the examination room where Dr. Kellin saw patients.
Along the back wall, next to the curtain, were rows of pictures, news clippings, and certificates that told the story of Dr. Kellin’s career. Alex noted her medical and alchemical licenses as well as her diploma among them.
Alex swept the room, his eyes moving slowly from left to right, but nothing looked out of place. There were no signs of violence, or even a struggle. Everything appeared to be as it should be.
“Hello,” Alex called, knocking on the frame of the open front door. “Officer Johansson, are you in here? It’s Alex Lockerby.” He had no desire to surprise a couple of cops looking for a potential killer.
The sound of someone big coming down a flight of stairs echoed through the house and a moment later, Johansson’s blond head peeked out through the curtain at the back of the shop.
“Mr. Lockerby?” he said, stepping through the curtain. “What are you doing here?” He lowered his service revolver but didn’t holster it, holding it loosely in his hand. “Detective Pak assured me you were on the other side of town.”
“That would be my doing,” Sorsha said, stepping around Alex and into the room.
Johansson looked stunned, but Sorsha tended to have that effect on men. Today she wore a white, pinstriped shirt and high-waisted slacks with a man’s necktie and a pair of white suspenders over her shoulders. They were an affectation, of course; even with the sorceress’ narrow hips, she wouldn’t need anything extra to hold her slacks in place. Despite the progressive clothing, Sorsha was a looker.
“I’m Sorsha Kincaid,” she said. “I’m a consultant for the FBI.”
At the name, Johansson went pale. Beautiful women were common enough, but being in the same room with a sorcerer was a new experience for most people. Rather like wading in the Atlantic and suddenly turning around to see a large shark fin gliding by.
“How do you do, ma’am,” Johansson said after he managed to wrangle his tongue. He quickly jammed his pistol into the holster on his hip and stood at attention.
“Have you finished searching the house?” Sorsha asked, walking along the shelves of potions, idly reading the paper labels.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “There isn’t anyone here.”
Alex felt his shoulders relax. He wasn’t happy that Doc and Jessica were gone, and the policemen assigned to watch them had somehow missed it, but at least the shop wasn’t a murder scene.
“But you told me Dr. Kellin was here earlier,” Alex said, managing to hide both his relief and his irritation.
“Honest, Mr. Lockerby, that’s what I was told when I got here,” Johansson said. “I saw the blonde girl leaving, but nobody else came or went all night.”
“The blonde girl,” Sorsha said, leaning casually against the counter. “Are you certain it wasn’t Dr. Kellin? She has gray hair and it’s quite foggy outside.”
“No ma’am,” he said. “This girl walked right by the car and I got a real good look at her. She was pretty young to look at, but not so young I wondered about her being Dr. Kellin’s assistant.”
“Like a teenager?” Alex asked.
“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “I guess.”
Alex and Sorsha exchanged glances while Johansson looked chagrined. Before anyone could speak again, the cop Alex had seen sleeping in the car earlier came in through the curtain. He had an olive complexion with dark hair and thick eyebrows that seemed to slump down over his eyes in a perpetual scowl.
“There’s a bedroom downstairs,” he said to Johansson, “but nobody’s there.”
“Mind if I have a look around?” Alex asked.
The second cop looked like he wanted to tell Alex just what he could do with his request, but a glance at Sorsha made him hesitate, and he looked at Johansson.
“This is Miss Kincaid,” the blond cop said. “She’s with the Feds.”
“I understand that Detective Pak is on his way here to take over,” Sorsha said. “Why don’t you boys head out front and secure the building until he arrives?”
The second cop got that barely-controlled outrage look on his face again, but before he could speak, Johansson snapped a salute to Sorsha.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, then nodded toward the open door. “Come on, Gibson.”
Sorsha watched them go with a rather self-satisfied smirk, then turned to Alex.
“Where do you want to start?” she asked.
He didn’t have to think about that one. If something was wrong, there was one place that would tell the tale.
“Downstairs,” he said. “In Dr. Kellin’s lab.”
The lab looked different from the last time Alex had been in it. The broken glass from the shattered equipment had been swept up and the floor had obviously been scrubbed. Several of the empty tables had been pushed against the wall in a double row and the working brew lines were set up in the center.
Alex knew something was amiss immediately. The equipment on the central tables had clearly been set up and looked to have been working recently, but none of the burners were lit. He checked the alarm clocks on each table and while they were wound and ticking, the lever on the back that activated the alarm had been set to the ‘off’ position.
“You almost wouldn’t know there was a gun battle here a few days ago,” Sorsha said, sauntering around the room. While her posture looked relaxed, Alex saw her eyes darting around, taking in the details. “Except for the bullet holes.”
She reached up to touch the large clock on the back wall. It was an ornate wooden number with a weight and pulley system to keep it wound. Just above the clock’s face were two holes in the decoratively carved frame.
“Buckshot,” Alex corrected.
Sorsha ran her finger around the neat hole, brushing a few splinters away, then turned back to the lab tables.
“What is Dr. Kellin working on here?”
“Nothing,” Alex said. He pointed to the inactive burners. “She’s shut everything down.”
“I take it that’s not normal?”
Alex shook his head.
“Jessica told me that the only time an alchemist shuts down their brewing lines is if they’re going to be away for some time.”
“You think they got spooked?” Sorsha said. “Took what they needed and set up somewhere secret?”
Alex hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense.
“Just a minute,” he said, then headed into the little bedroom off the lab that belonged to Jessica. Alex had seen it many times and it looked exactly as he remembered it. Nothing obvious looked out of place. Jessica’s hairbrush and makeup were on her dressing table and a quick check of the closet revealed that her clothes were still there. It didn’t look like the room of someone who’d left in a hurry.
Unless she left so quickly, she didn’t have time to grab anything.
Alex left the bedroom and climbed up two flights of stairs to the floor where Dr. Kellin lived. He’d never been up here before, but he found the doc’s bedroom easily enough. Just like Jessica’s, it showed no signs of having been ransacked by someone packing in a hurry; in fact, two small suitcases still occupied the shelf in the top of her closet.
“What are you thinking?” Sorsha asked. She’d followed him, watching quietly as he’d made his search.
“They left of their own free will,” Alex said.
Sorsha nodded.
“If they’d been abducted or forced to go, they wouldn’t have bothered to shut down the lab,” she said. “What else?”
“They were in enough of a hurry that they didn’t stop to pack anything.”
Or did they?
Alex pushed past Sorsha and headed back down to the shop on the main level. He wasn’t terribly familiar with the alchemy shop, but he’d been in shops before. He walked slowly along the shelves until he found a row of vials with a decent coat of dust on the on
es in the back. Normally when shopkeepers sold something off a rack, they would move the others forward at closing. The first two holes in this rack were empty, and there was a space beside one of the empty holes were the dust had been wiped away by whoever removed it.
Fuller’s Oil, the label read.
Since the price on the label was only thirty cents, Alex assumed it must be an unusual ingredient to be so dusty. He’d seen that name before, and recently. Pulling out his black notebook from his shirt pocket, he flipped through it until he came to the page with the notes on the lab break in. The note in Jimmy the Weasel’s pocket had a list of potions and ingredients on it and Alex ran his finger down the list until he found Fuller’s Oil. Next to the name was the number two.
Moving quickly, Alex checked the shelves and found gaps in all of the rows that held ingredients on Jimmy’s list. That might be a coincidence, but Alex had stopped believing in coincidence after his second murder case.
“I don’t like that look,” Sorsha said as Alex chewed his lip in thought.
Alex ignored her and opened his kit bag, pulling out his amberlight burner, lamp, and oculus. He swept the shop and the little examination room beside it. As he expected, there were hundreds of objects that had been moved all over the shop and in the examination room. When Alex pointed the light at the shelves he’d identified, ghostly brown images of the missing materials appeared. If they’d been gone for more than a day, their images would have degraded to nothing.
He was about to put the lamp away when its amber light played over the back wall, behind the counter and the cash register. As expected, the pictures and certificates mounted on the wall showed no outlines at all, they’d been put up years ago and were probably only taken down and cleaned once a year or so. One of the pictures, however, lit up brightly. It had been taken down recently.
Remembering Dr. Burnham’s hidden compartment, Alex put away his equipment and then gently lifted the picture off the wall. Disappointingly, there was nothing behind it. Turning the frame over, Alex saw a picture of three people standing in front of a building. One of them looked a little like Jessica must have looked when she was in her late teens or early twenties. She stood next to a shorter young man with thick spectacles and unkempt hair that looked about the same age.
