by Harper Lin
8
The Sequence of Ursaken
“I can’t believe that woman would accuse Mom of having something to do with Niles’s death,” Bea spat. “What a piece of work.”
“I can’t believe Cath didn’t punch her in the face.” Aunt Astrid laughed.
“Treacle was so good in his role, I didn’t want to blow our cover.” I sat in Bea’s kitchen, sipping a chamomile tea. “But it was very hard. The more Dolores spoke, the harder it was to listen. This whole crime isn’t about Niles. It’s about Dolores Eversol and how she is going to cope.”
“That was a great idea to get to her,” Aunt Astrid concurred. “Well played, Treacle.”
He barely opened his eyes from the armchair by the sliding back door. Peanut Butter was snuggled up tightly next to him.
“But what about The Sequence of Ursaken? I remember you telling Bea and me when we were teenagers to stay away from that. To not even read the list of ingredients, let alone try to perform it.”
“I remember that too,” Bea said.
“It backs up my theory that Niles is the victim of his own hubris.” Aunt Astrid helped herself to one of Bea’s sugarless sugar cookies. “But I have the feeling that Patrick may offer us a little more help. If we can ever find him.”
“Are those cookies any good?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“Of course they are good. I just use applesauce instead of sugar,” Bea said.
“So they are applesauce cookies?”
“No, they are sugar cookies, but I used applesauce.”
“So they are fraud cookies.”
“Don’t you ever get tired of being a nerd?”
“Do you?” I popped the cookie into my mouth. It tasted delicious.
“All right, girls. This is serious. If Niles Freudenfur decided he was ready to perform The Sequence of Ursaken, there is no telling what damage he might have done.” My aunt looked serious as she looked at her watch.
“How tired are you girls?”
“I’ve got a little more juice left in my battery.”
I looked at Bea and shrugged.
“I’d like to go back to Niles’s house.” Aunt Astrid’s face was grave. “I obviously missed something when we were at the estate sale. I know why too.”
“Why, Mom?”
“I was too wrapped up in my own suspicions about Niles. I let it fog my vision. I wanted proof he was a fraud even though I already knew he was one. I knew with his money that he probably had some items I could never hope to have. Aside from the copy of Sanctum Totem Arcana, I didn’t see anything of any value. But I was looking through a lens of envy. I guess I was suffering from a severe case of hubris too.”
My aunt’s face was drawn down.
“You know what? We need to stop what we are doing,” she said. “This time, I’m serious.” She looked at Bea and me intently. “I’ve got to cleanse my own house, so to speak, before I can proceed any further. If Niles was dabbling in things that were over his head, I should have helped him understand them.”
“Did he ever act like he wanted your help?” I asked.
“No. But that doesn’t mean you don’t offer it. It doesn’t mean you hope in your heart for the person to fail so you can feel legitimized. That’s what I was doing. I was feeling superior to Niles, knowing full well that he had no idea what he was doing. Smoke and mirrors. That was all he offered. I was the real deal.” She sighed as she slid off the seat at Bea’s kitchen island. “I’m going home, girls. I’ll see you tomorrow at the café.”
Without another word, Aunt Astrid left.
“I’ve never seen her that way,” Bea said. She wrung her hands.
“No.”
“I don’t think my mom ever acted conceited or full of herself. Why is she saying this stuff?”
“Let’s be honest. Only she knows what’s going on inside her.”
“But I should know too. What’s the use of having empathic senses if they can be so easily ignored when I don’t like someone? I didn’t feel anything at that house. Or maybe I didn’t want to.” Bea scratched her head.
“What do you mean?”
“I looked around that house too. I stumbled across that room full of dolls, and I made a judgment that Niles was even weirder than we all thought he was.”
“Let me stop you right there. A man in his seventies with that many little-girl dolls is weirder than we thought he was. You can’t sugarcoat it. Mix in a little applesauce so the disturbing facts go down a little easier.” I shivered.
“But…”
“But nothing. I only saw what I saw. Maybe the next time we go, we should bring the familiars. If Aunt Astrid’s vision is clouded and your senses are muddied, then maybe the cats will see clearer than all of us.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“Of course it is. But I will say this.” I took another cookie. “If we have reached a point where I’m the only one making sense, then we all might be in big trouble.”
With everything going on, I had nearly forgotten about meeting Tom’s mother. Did it mean something that I wasn’t as excited about this as some girls would be? Once Treacle and I were home for the night, I was getting nervous over the fact that I wasn’t all that nervous.
“Not all girls have the kind of family you do.”
Treacle was eavesdropping on my thoughts. I must have been thinking extra loudly.
“You think that’s it?”
“I don’t know.”
“A lot of help you are.” I scratched him between his ears.
As I was lying in bed, my mind was focused on how weird Dolores Eversol was. I tried to concentrate on what I was going to wear to meet Tom’s mother and what I’d talk about. But my heart just wasn’t in it. I kept drifting back to Dolores. She spoke about Niles as though he walked on water. I had to wonder if she knew about his room full of dolls. Would that have changed her opinion of him?
“She’s not a killer. I can see her being one of those women who catch mice in humane traps and let them loose in fields and forests nearby. Of course, she’d have to brag about how she did it.”
Treacle looked up at me from the foot of the bed but said nothing.
Sleep finally came at about two thirty in the morning.
9
Mud
When I finally dragged myself into the café, I could see by Bea and Aunt Astrid’s faces that I looked like a kid who hadn’t studied for midterms.
“I couldn’t sleep,” I confessed.
“Worried about tonight?” Bea asked.
“What’s tonight?” I asked as I poured myself a cup of strong black coffee.
“You’re meeting Tom’s mother,” Aunt Astrid said.
“Yeah. I guess so.” I let out a deep breath. “I just couldn’t sleep last night. With all the stuff we talked about last night, it’s hard to focus on something so simple.”
“Meeting his mother is simple?” Bea gasped. “I wish I had your confidence when I met Jake’s mother. Speak of the devil.”
Just then, two shadows crossed the storefront window. When the chimes jingled, I turned around to see Jake and his partner, Blake, walking in.
“Hey, honey.” Jake leaned over the counter and kissed Bea on the cheek.
“Detective Samberg.”
Aunt Astrid always fawned all over Blake. He had no family and was a bit of an oddball. My aunt loved that about him.
“How are you this morning, honey? We haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Hello, Aunt Astrid. The chief has been keeping us busy.” He turned to me. “Hello, Cath.”
I yawned and waved.
“Late night on the town?”
“No. Insomnia,” I confessed before slurping some of my coffee.
“I wish I’d known. I suffered a bout of it last night as well.” He looked back at my aunt. “Niles Freudenfur’s case is getting more and more bizarre with every person we talk to. Not to mention I’ve got a stack of files on my desk six inches high of
cases I haven’t even been able to glance at, let alone make any progress on. I’m fortunate insomnia and the occasional heartburn are my only afflictions.”
“Have you made any progress?” Bea asked Jake as she held his hands over the counter.
“You guys look so sweet I’m getting a cavity,” I said.
“Funny.” Bea rolled her eyes. “Just wait until it’s you and Tom.”
“Oh, yeah, tonight you are meeting his mother.” Jake grinned. “Are you nervous?”
“You’re meeting whose mother?” Blake asked.
“Tom’s,” I answered. “No. I’m not nervous. Tom is a normal fellow. I’m sure his mother will be normal too.”
“That’s them. What about you? I’m not sure the term normal applies.” Jake was enjoying himself a little too much.
“Not with you in the family, Jake,” I snapped back before another yawn got me.
“Sui generis,” Blake piped up.
“Bless you,” I replied.
“No. I didn’t sneeze. I was referring to you. Sui generis. That means alone or singular. I categorize you as sui generis. If I had to put you in a category.” He pouted his lips as if he were really pondering the thought. “Wouldn’t you agree, Astrid?”
“I would, indeed.”
My aunt didn’t bother to hide her expression of approval toward Blake. I was not sure what she saw in the guy, but sometimes I wished she were forty years younger so she could date him herself.
“Well, no one is categorizing me just yet. What’s in the folder, Jake?” I was happy to change the subject. Plus, Jake had a folder under his arm that had pictures in it. I could see them peeking out enough to recognize the telltale crime-scene-photo coloring. “Can I see?”
“I don’t think you want to. It’s Niles after he marinated in his house for two weeks.”
“Okay. Maybe your wife and my aunt are squares, but I’d like to take a look.” I looked at my aunt and then at Bea.
“Jake, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look too,” my aunt said.
Blake took a seat at the counter next to his partner and took the file from him. I set a coffee cup in front of Blake and filled it for him.
“You take it black don’t you, Blake?” I asked.
“Yes,” he muttered without looking up. That was typical and one of his habits that drove me absolutely crazy. Not a thank you. Not a gracias. Not even a smile. There was no limit to Blake Samberg’s snooty behavior.
Among the pictures was the coroner’s report along with diagrams of the male form. Any wounds were marked in red pen on the body. The reason for death was listed as asphyxiation.
“He was choked?” I said in a hushed voice. Three of the tables in the café were occupied. One was a college-aged girl who had her head down and earbuds in. I wasn’t concerned with her overhearing us. But there was an older man reading the paper and two middle-aged women who were chatting quietly. They didn’t need to hear about Niles’s condition.
“More like he choked,” Blake replied and showed me a photocopy of the crime scene. Niles’s eyes were wide open. His mouth was frozen in a grimace of terror more than pain, and his hands were curled into jagged claws at his own throat.
“What is all that?” Bea pointed to his neck. “Is that…blood?”
“No. It’s primarily mud. There is some algae and slime mixed in with it. But it’s mostly mud,” Jake said.
I looked at my aunt. Her expression was not what I’d expected. Whenever we were faced with a strange or unfamiliar or out-of-place thing, something in my aunt’s face usually indicated she knew what we were dealing with. She might not have an exact name, but she’d have an idea of what we might be up against. I found courage and comfort in that expression. But it wasn’t there this time. All that was there was shock.
10
A Suspect
“How did he get mud on him?” Bea asked.
“It’s not just on him. It’s in him,” Blake replied as if he were giving the time.
“What?” I shouted getting the attention of the entire café. “Sorry. Just heard they were changing the name of the Big Mac.” I waved. Everyone went back to what they were doing.
When I pulled myself together, I looked at Blake, who had the tiniest smirk on his stoic face.
I would like to just state for the record that I didn’t think I’d ever seen Blake laugh out loud. He’d never burst out laughing, chuckled, guffawed, or giggled in my presence. So to see even this tiny sliver of a grin made me feel as if he had caught a glimpse of me in my underwear. He looked really handsome too. I hated it. I knew I flushed a hundred shades of embarrassed. I just knew I did.
“The coroner removed a good bit of mud from his mouth and throat,” Jake said, paying more attention to Bea’s reaction than the rest of us.
“Someone who decided to be so creative had to leave fingerprints,” Aunt Astrid said. “Did you find any?”
“Nope. Not a one. There was some mud in the house.” Jake shrugged. “We are at a real loss for this one. And unfortunately, Niles wasn’t that nice of a guy to everyone he did business with, so we’ve got a suspect list a mile long. That’s what brings us here.” Jake looked at my aunt with the saddest puppy-dog eyes I’d ever seen. “Aunt Astrid, I have to ask you a couple questions.”
My aunt stiffened in her seat.
“Am I a suspect?”
“Your name came up a few times. This is just routine. We have to do it,” Jake said sadly. “Believe me when I tell you I’m more embarrassed about this than anything.”
“It’s all right, Jake. I have nothing to hide.” She tugged at the neckline of her blouse. My aunt was a full-figured woman. She wore wonderfully flowing, bohemian-style clothes that made her look like a gypsy. Her dishwater blonde hair was streaked with naturally silver strands. Anyone who looked at her but didn’t know her would think she was an artist of some kind. A person dedicated to creating and embellishing. Never someone who destroyed or hurt, let alone killed.
“Why don’t we go talk in the back?” she said as she slowly ambled toward her tarot-reading table in the back of the café. Jake followed her with his notepad and a pencil in his hand. Blake stayed at the counter.
“Is that really necessary?” I asked. “You know as well as we do that Aunt Astrid had nothing to do with Niles’s death.”
“We have to leave our feelings out of it, Cath. Better to follow procedure and be wrong than to manipulate it and miss something.”
“You sound like an overgrown Boy Scout reciting his pledge.”
“The Boy Scout pledge is always be prepared. That’s slightly different from what Jake and I are doing.” He looked at me while he took a sip of his coffee.
“You know, someday, someone is going to mistake your never-ending quest to educate the world as really annoying sarcasm and knock you out.”
“Cath.” Bea took hold of my arm. “Blake is right. I don’t like it either. But Mom is in the clear. We both know that. She would never hurt anyone.”
I looked at Blake. How he could sit there so calmly while his partner interrogated my aunt for a murder everyone knew she didn’t commit was a mystery to me. Yet there he was, sipping his coffee as if it were any other day.
Jake and Aunt Astrid were in the back for over half an hour. When they finally came back to the front of the café, Aunt Astrid looked fine, but Jake was green and clammy.
“What’s wrong with you?” Bea asked. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll see you tonight.” Without waiting for his usual kiss, Jake tucked the file folder underneath his arm and left.
“What do I owe you for the coffee, Bea?” Blake asked, standing quickly.
“Nothing, Blake.” Bea waved him away as if shooing a fly. “You guys be careful out there.”
Bea’s voice was soft with worry. She watched as Blake hurried after Jake.
“What happened back there?” I asked my aunt.
“You know. Just like y
ou see on television. Where were you on such-and-such a date? How did you know the victim? Did you ever have any conflicts, issues, or arguments?” She shrugged and smiled. “It really wasn’t that bad. Except that I don’t have an alibi.”
We all just sort of stood there.
“What does that mean?” Bea asked.
“It means I said I was home by myself, but no one can verify I was there the whole night. I’ve had words with Niles, and we weren’t on very good terms. It looks a little suspicious. That’s all.”
“But Jake won’t arrest you,” I said. “You’re family. He wouldn’t do that after everything we’ve all been through. Hell, even if you did…” My mouth stopped moving, and I just sort of let it hang there.
“Look.” My aunt’s voice was firm. “We can’t blame Jake for doing his job. Bea, don’t take this out on him. He’s a good cop. A good detective. I have faith in his skills, even if all the evidence is pointing at me for the moment.”
I wanted to close up the café, go down in the bunker with Bea and Aunt Astrid, and start some real digging on Niles’s case.
The bunker was discovered after the Brew-Ha-Ha almost burned down. It was just a simple cement cellar that we used for a meeting place when none of us wanted to go home. There was a comfy old sofa and a couple of tables. I made sure a nice stash of Oreo cookies, juice boxes, and a few other odds and ends were stocked down there. It was a safe place. No one knew about it but Bea, Aunt Astrid, and me.
That was part of the reason why I wanted to go down there. The other reason was I really wanted to hide. I wanted to hide from this horrible turn of events that had unfurled so far. But I also wanted to hide from Tom and his mother.
There couldn’t be a more inconvenient time to meet. I looked at the clock and wondered if I should call him and see if rescheduling was possible. What would I tell him? Sorry, Tom and Mrs. Warner, but my aunt is suspected of a really grisly murder. Can we have dinner some other time?
Yikes. That was worse than a fib that my stomach was acting up.
