by Alexie Aaron
“And what did you find?”
“That the builder of a lot of the homes in this area had been contracted to do some work out there not far from Ted’s farmhouse. He had on his team a carpenter that produced those wonderful bird carvings. It doesn’t surprise me that they are similar if not identical. He was obsessed with the birds.”
“Does this carpenter have a name?”
Audrey picked up her clipboard and flipped through her notes. “Giuseppe Basso. He’s rather famous in these parts. The Basso family members are first class artisans still.”
“Imagine that.”
“The staircase here, if I were to okay its removal, would bring at auction enough money to replace it, clear away the concrete out back, and build a proper place for the mothers and young children to enjoy.”
“The clock…”
“Oh, it hasn’t gone unnoticed by me I assure you. I already put in a call, and it’s going to find a home in a humidity-controlled lockup until we can get it appraised by an expert. That’s why I have to decline lunch. I’m going to wait for them to arrive. My dad is swinging by to bring me a sandwich. Are you still living out at the farm with Ted and Cid?” Audrey asked.
“Yes, when Mia and Ted marry I will rent her place on the lake. It has a beautiful view. Nice and private. It’s small but big enough for my needs. Not too far from town. The sheriff is building next door, and he and I get along well. He says he’s going to teach me how to fish.”
Audrey nodded. “Fishing builds patience,” she said sagely.
“Oh, there’s a sound of experience here.”
“I’ve been fishing with my dad since I could hold a rod. I can even fly-fish without hooking myself in the process.”
“Oooh a professional.”
“Damn straight. I have trophies,” Audrey bragged. She looked at her watch. “Let’s go downstairs, my dad will be arriving any minute. I’m supposed to wait on the porch so he doesn’t have to find a parking space. It’s a drive-by lunching.”
Burt laughed and followed his new investigator out of the room. She pointed out other nice touches in the architecture as they descended the stairs. He enjoyed that with each item there was a short story attached. Audrey’s knowledge was vast and complete. He knew that she would add so much to PEEPs. Mike was right to push him into making this decision.
The late spring heat hit them as they exited the building. Cities held the heat in their concrete, brick and stone. Chicago was favored by its costal position on Lake Michigan. The lake kept the city cooler than the surrounding countryside. It also was a source for the moniker Windy City. Burt felt the wind today. It was warm, but its movement dried the sweat on his skin. He hadn’t realized how nervous he had been approaching Audrey. If she hadn’t accepted the post, PEEPs would still function, but he would mourn the loss.
“Here he is,” Audrey said, bouncing down the steps. “Come on and say hello.”
He followed her and shook hands as Luke McCarthy greeted him.
“Well you’re looking fit, Mr. Hicks,” the older man observed.
“Cid has us all on a no fast-food regimen at the farm,” Burt explained. “I miss my hamburgers but don’t miss the thirty pounds I took off.”
“Especially on hot days like this one,” Luke said and opened the trunk. “Give me a hand with the picnic basket. When my wife heard you were going to be here, well, she went a little overboard,” he explained.
Audrey blushed. “I didn’t know. Burt, can you stay?”
“I’ve got the time. I’m not scheduled to meet with Mike until later. A McCarthy lunch is a treat not to be missed.”
Luke handed him the basket, kissed his daughter and hopped back in the car before he caused the ever observant meter reader to look his way. Audrey waved him off and headed into the house, followed by a very happy Burt.
~
Charles picked up the last of his gear and headed out to the jeep. After securing his belongings, he checked out of the hotel. If he and Amanda ended up getting the permits to dig, he would have to find an apartment to rent. Amanda’s smoking made motel/hotel living impossible. Even if he could find an establishment that would allow smoking, Amanda was too careless, and the costs were too high to replace the cigarette-burned desktops and bathroom counters. He had quit long ago when climbing stairs would result in coughing fits that would cripple him for tens of minutes. She turned a deaf ear to his pleas that she quit the death-drawing habit.
He paid his bill and headed out of the city. He pulled over, changing his mind. He would have one last look at the site, take a few more pictures. Maybe the pilgrims would return, and he would be able to get their images on film. His daughter worked with a group that had made startling advances in spirit photography. Bernard said that the man Mia was engaged to was responsible for most of the technical improvements. Could he be persuaded to work with Charles? Surely as a new family member he couldn’t refuse. Normally he didn’t encourage family gatherings. Mia was single-minded and refused to dance to Amanda’s tune. Her stubbornness reminded him of his childhood and dealing with his sister Beverly.
Beverly was a strong sensitive who had scandalized his father with her blatant claims of ghosts. She was tossed out of the home at a young age, much to the anguish of their mother Frederica. She never forgave her husband or Charles for his part in Bev’s downfall. But they were both gone now, Bev before his mother. Mia took care of his mother until she died. Frederica refused to see him, not that he had time for sentimental things like deathbed chats. It didn’t surprise him at all when she left her small fortune to his daughter instead of him and Amanda. He could have used that money. Grants made living difficult. Cigarettes were expensive, especially in the quantity Amanda smoked. But he found a way to supplement their income. Selling pots from the digs was illegal and morally wrong, but it paid a lot of bills.
Charles was disappointed to find no trace of the pilgrims. He had been lucky to catch sight of them as they approached Cahokia and then follow them as they left for their return trip home. The thousands of Cahokians leaving their residue made him dizzy trying to keep track of the group, especially as they moved through the market area. Fortunately for him, their leader wore very distinctive garments and stood taller than the maize-fed city dwellers. Charles named him The Great Impersonator for his likeness to Red Horn’s son. He and his group came from the northwest where he and Amanda had found a twin tablet to the one unearthed at Cahokia all those years ago. This was their proof that the ancients of their site had visited Cahokia or were perhaps immigrants from that fabled city. It would rock their community if he and Amada could prove that they knew where the Cahokians had disappeared to when the city fell.
He moved around the basement slowly, glancing in the dark shadows. This place was once a suburb of that great city. The travelers would have taken advantage of the hospitality offered by the residents of this rich land. From here they would have moved on. But if he could find something they left, something to tie their existence to this spot, something unique to their community, then he would have the proof Amanda sought.
He-who-walks-through-time stood still against the wall observing the man. He knew his kind, having seen them before. They scraped the earth of its skin just to spy upon the dead. They robbed the graves of tributes and bones. Some replaced everything, some just the bones, others took the lot and left the earth scarred where beauty and peace once was. They called themselves archeologists and anthropologists. He deemed them unworthy of his respect. But this one, He-who-digs-in-dirt, may be useful to him. He seemed to be following his people. Maybe he had the answers to why there was no record of He-who-walks-through-time and why his image did not appear on the walls of caves and canyons.
The time walker had first caught sight of the man back in the plains where they started their journey. The man had followed them as they made their way to Cahokia. At first he thought the man dressed in the color of dead grass was a fellow pilgrim, not from his tribe, but from the tribe
of white-faced visitors that came to his land from across the big waters. These were people who brought disease and built great heavy buildings over the graves of those they killed with their mere presence. This man watched them, copied down what they did, and reported it to whomever he spoke to in that tiny box he held.
Charles felt his presence long before he spotted him standing still by the crumbling wall. Why was he alone? Where was the group of men and women that followed him dutifully? Charles took in the solidity of the ghost and pondered the possibility that he was other than an echo of the past. Aside from the woman who had haunted the Illinois home, he hadn’t had much experience with active ghosts. The spirits he was used to were long gone before the written word reached this continent. A bead of sweat broke and rolled down his face, the salt stinging his eye as it drained into it. Charles drew out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He looked back at the ghost, and it was gone.
Charles shook his head. He felt silly, letting his imagination get a hold on him. He walked over to the place where the specter had stood and examined the ground. Had the dust been disturbed here? Did he see a barefoot print? Charles bent down and put his hand on the cement. It was warmer in the spot the spirit had stood. This was contrary to what he read about ghosts. Shouldn’t it be cold?
He stood up. An arm circled his body, pulling him back hard. Another held something hard and sharp at his neck.
“Stand still, bone stealer,” ordered a deep voice.
Charles felt the warmth of the man’s body. The back of his head hit the copper chest adornment with such force that he knew the skin had broken and blood ran down his scalp. “What do you want? My wallet is in my back pocket. Take it all…”
“Silence!”
Charles complied. Fear had sweat running in rivulets down his face, and his shirt was sodden. He felt the pressure around his chest increase as the man behind him pulled him into the shadows. Charles, weighing just shy of two hundred pounds, was amazed by the ease with which he was being moved. His captor had to be an immensely strong and tall being because he was lifted off the ground, and his head didn’t quite reach the neck of his assailant.
Fearing the answer, Charles asked, “What do you want with me?”
“Answers!” the voice boomed in his ears and echoed off the walls of the factory and the boards of the floor above. The pressure around his body ceased, and he was dropped hard on the floor, hitting is head. Charles took in the giant above him. He no longer saw the benign image of a pilgrim. He saw the taut, strong body of an athlete accompanied by the smile of a victorious predator.
“Who are you?”
“You should know, archeologist.”
Charles winced as the pronunciation of his profession was dripping with disdain and anger. “I’m sorry, but we’ve never met…”
The giant bent forward and grabbed Charles by the neck, his massive fingers applying uncomfortable pressure.
“You’re no man I ever met,” Charles squeaked out as the pressure of the fingers continued to increase.
“That is because I am no man. I am a god.”
Charles took in his words as the pressure increased and the darkness descended. “God? But whose?” were the questions that escorted him into oblivion.
Chapter Five
Audrey gathered the remainder of their lunch after seeing Burt out the door. He was a great lunch partner. His stories and frank observations of the PEEPs team left Audrey with sore sides from laughing so much. She could tell that he genuinely cared for each member. She also sensed he was sweet on her, which would make her dad happy but made her a bit uneasy. Slow and steady. She wouldn’t jump into a relationship with her new boss but take the time to get to know him, and then if she still felt the same way, she would approach him honestly and tell him how she felt.
Mia and Ted were a good example of how to be a couple and not change the work dynamic of the small group. Audrey smiled thinking of how outraged Mia would be if she knew that Audrey thought she was a good example. Mia’s early life had left her broken and ill at ease with flesh and blood humans. She swore like a sailor unless she was using company manners. She wasn’t a crude person but unaware that cuss words were anything but just words. Mia’s parents never were around to dissuade her use of the colorful expressions, so she didn’t think she was offending anyone.
Audrey had immediately liked her. She found the sensitive kind and honest. Mia was generous with her knowledge and very serious about her gifts.
The doorbell rang and echoed throughout the empty house. Audrey opened the door to find the long-awaited removal men on the porch. She showed them the clock and waited while the senior man assessed what they would need to safely move the heavy, fragile piece.
She decided to inventory the bookshelves in the study while the men worked. In her experience, it was easier to do things well when you weren’t observed by the client. She was stacking the first editions when one of the removal men came into the study.
“Excuse me, Miss, but we found this tacked under the clock. It came loose, and I didn’t want it going astray in the move to the warehouse.” He handed the brittle envelope to Audrey.
“Thank you. I’ll take care of it. Is there anything else?”
“No, we’ll be leaving in a few minutes. My partner is securing the clock. We were surprised that it was still ticking.”
“I think that this place has had a lot of care over the years. These books have almost no dust on them. You should see my place.”
The man laughed and handed Audrey a receipt, leaving her to ponder the envelope in her hand.
She walked over to the window and watched as the removal van’s door was closed. The team got into the cab and drove off. She walked out into the hall and secured the front door, noting how empty the place seemed now that the clock had gone. The clunks of the pendulums and clinks of the hands moving gave the house life. Now that was gone, it was just a building to be assessed.
She looked again at the envelope and decided to open it. The flap wasn’t secured, just tucked inside the folds of the packet. She slid her hand in and withdrew a folded sheet of paper. Audrey walked over to the window to use the natural light to her advantage. With care she unfolded the paper and read:
If you are reading this then I, Giuseppe Basso, am dead. I have been murdered.
Audrey reeled back and reread the line to make sure she wasn’t just imagining it.
If you are reading this then I, Giuseppe Basso, am dead. I have been murdered.
“Hold on, fella,” Audrey said as she scanned the rest of the blank page. “If you’re going to leave a feckin’ note like this, at least name your murderer!” She refolded the note absently. A hundred theories filled her mind. Carefully she reinserted the paper into the envelope, but it didn’t fit. She withdrew it once again and peered inside. Stuck in one of the corners was a tiny key. She poured the key out into the palm of her hand. It was barely big enough to wind a clock, but she was certain that was what it was for. Audrey pulled out her cell phone and scanned the pictures she had taken before the removal men had arrived. When she came to the ones of the clock she enlarged them, looking for a port for the key. She identified the much larger one that belonged to the key she had taped inside the clock for the auctioneer to use but could see no other. It didn’t mean it wasn’t there, just that she couldn’t see it.
“Maybe this is just a stunt. Giuseppe, are you a jokester?” she asked the empty house. Her words echoed back at her but no answer came. “I didn’t think so,” she answered her own question. “So you leave a note and a key behind but don’t explain yourself.” She examined the elegant handwriting and didn’t sense that it had been rushed. “Maybe you didn’t know. Maybe you hoped you were wrong. Maybe, maybe, ah shit!”
She tucked the key securely into her change purse and ran upstairs to shut and lock the open windows. If she hurried, she would be able to catch Burt and Mike at the bar he mentioned at lunchtime. She thumbed a messaged to Burt as she mo
ved down the hall. Wait for me at the bar. Important!
Pocketing her phone, she sailed down the steps, ran into the study and gathered her things. The books would have to wait. She concentrated as she set the alarm. All the entrances of the house looked to be secure. Audrey moved quickly out the front door and locked it behind her.
In her rush, she didn’t see the shadow move out of the corner of the study, nor hear the footfalls as it ascended the stairs. If she had but listened, she would have heard the curses that echoed hers or felt the icy blast of air as it rushed after her. Her excitement had her out in the sunshine and hailing a cab by the time it manifested. The man wavered in the late afternoon light as he moved back down the stairs. His expensive leather shoes sounded on the polished wood floors as he walked back into the study. He looked in disgust at the stacks of books, and with one movement of his hand, they exploded off the table, landing on the chair and floor. He drew out a cigar and lit it, filling his long dead lungs with the spicy scent of the tobacco. So Giuseppe had known he was being targeted. But he hadn’t known by whom, had he?
He remembered how awful he felt when his knife found the back of Giuseppe, and the thuds his stiffening body made as he rolled down the stairs. He recalled the taste of the blood on his mouth as he kissed him goodbye. Those beautiful birds would sing no more for Giuseppe.
He moved along the railing, his fingers finding the secret corners where the craftsman inserted his artwork. He looked for the spot the key belonged and found only carved ivy and woodland birds. He pulled off the cap of the newel post and found it solid inside. As he pounded it back into place, his mind moved backwards in time. He smiled as he recalled there was another staircase finished at the same time, this one in a house deep in the woods. If Giuseppe suspected him, he would have left the information there, perhaps in his journal that he normally carried with him. He had searched his clothing and toolbox for it, but it was missing the day he died. What if the woman found the lock and opened the door on the truth. He couldn’t let it happen. It would tarnish his and his family’s name forever. He couldn’t let that happen.
