The Angels' Mirror Pack 2: Books Four through Seven

by Harmony L. Courtney

  Lord, I hope it doesn’t, Romeo prayed as the elevator arrived and they stepped aboard. The last thing we’d ever need is to move yet again because of the selfishness or curiosity of others…

  “So,” Mario said once the doors closed and he’d pressed five, “you’ve got a full suite. The fifth floor’s at the top, and there are only three families who can stay at a time. Each suite is four rooms… two bedrooms, a fully equipped kitchen, and a living room. The bathroom adjoins the bedrooms together and locks on both sides.”

  The bell chimed as the elevator stopped, and Romeo helped Mario push the cart over the bump to get it rolling again. They stopped in front of room 504-7 – the door in the middle – and Mario pulled out a set of keys.

  “There’s a key for each of you, and a key to the weight room for you to share,” he said, pointing to two keys with rose pink daubs on them, and a third with a yellow smiley lacquered to it. “This one’s for the laundry room on this floor,” he continued, pointing at a key with a green dot painted onto it, “and this one’s for the elevator.” He pointed to the final key, which was squat and square.

  “That’s in case it stalls and you need help,” he hastily explained.

  “What’ with the color codes,” Calico asked him as he turned to use a pink daubed key to open the door and usher them inside.

  “Watch your step,” he said before answering her question: just inside was a ramp gently sloping toward a lower floor. The carpet was plush, and on the longer side, a pale honey gold with flecks of black in it.

  “Those are only for people on floor five; they have special privileges, like the elevator and weight room keys. It just helps keep things sorted out, since the people up here are long-timers.”

  Romeo and Calico both nodded, and Angus squealed, startling them. He pointed a pudgy little finger inside as Mario pulled the luggage cart behind them, and Romeo scanned the room with his eyes.

  The room they stepped into was most obviously the living room, sunny, spacious, and bright from the large picture window that took up a third of the far wall. Pale lace curtains – maybe a shade darker than the carpet, and tied together into three separate sections - adorned it, and in front, a small oak table with a pair of mahogany-colored button-tufted chairs, faced the window slightly.

  As they continued toward their exploration of the suite of rooms, Romeo could see that there were separate areas for dining and entertainment contained in the space, as well.

  “We decided that for our long-term guests,” Mario told them, unloading the cart into the middle of the living room floor, “we’d choose a different theme. Yours is, basically, the sixties, though there are a few variants… some more classical touches here and there, and bedrooms that are more up to date.”

  Romeo listened as he watched Calico walk further inside, letting go, finally, of Angus’ hand to allow him time to investigate.

  Facing the kitchen, which was on the same level, was a low-slung, slightly camel-backed sofa that matched the tufted chairs, and against the wall between, an entertainment center, complete with wall-mounted Mirage TM Wave Recepting Imagebar computer-television – about forty-seven inches, by Romeo’s estimate, if the bottom length was correct – its screensaver set with the name of the hotel. Underneath it, a gas fireplace was embedded, the curlicued glass and brass frame of it reaching to within a foot of the mounted screen, which was razor-flat. To the right of it, a basket full of blankets ready for curling up.

  Two more tufted chairs helped create a demarcation between the entertainment and dining areas, on the left. A three-tiered adjustable light was in the corner between the couch and wall, and 60’s style sconces lit up either side of the computer-television. A low, oval oak table, complete with wicker storage baskets underneath, finished the area off.

  Toward the front wall, a burgundy pendant lamp hung above a rectangular table and six chairs, the vintage of which Romeo had no difficulty guessing: 60’s, again. A dark green, ruffle-edged bowl full of apples, pears, limes, and oranges sat in the center, holding down an off-white tablecloth with gold trim, and the wall behind was half-paneled in oak, distressed to match the table and chairs’ age.

  Romeo made his way to the picture window and peered outside. Across Brewer Road, on the other side of the street, a smattering of magnolia and dogwood trees intermixed with oak and pine, surrounded a duck pond on three sides. He could see a few people meandering on the trail, some moving toward, and others away from, the pond. A young woman on rollerblades sped past the rest and then, out of sight, as she approached the hotel. The little stucco and brick Baptist church they’d passed on the way in was barely visible in the distance to the east, and if he leaned far enough to the left, he could make out the edge of the complex across Lovers Lane.

  In the distance, he could hear the workings of a train as it began to move, the sound pulling away even more as it headed to its next destination.

  As he followed Calico toward the kitchen, Romeo noted that it, too, had pendant lighting and oak, though the colors were, overall, lighter and cheerier. The appliances – all modern with a sixties vibe to them – were a cheery turquoise, and the walls brought in some of the gold and burgundy from the living room as a faux-velvet wallpaper, more gold than burgundy.

  “Here,” Mario said finally. “Let me show you the rest of the suite, and then, I’ll leave you to explore. I see that your son – what’s his name?”

  He paused.

  “Angus,” Calico replied softly. “His name is Angus.”

  “Ah, alrighty then… I see that Angus has already done his share of exploring,” the man continued, nodding his blonde head toward the other side of the living room, where Romeo could see the boy just vanishing into another area.

  With long strides, he crossed the living room, went up the ramp on the other side, and found his son in the three-doored bathroom. Pocket doors with locks on both the inside and outside, enclosed a bathroom larger than Romeo had ever seen: it had to be nearly fifteen feet wide, and six feet long, at least.

  The door where they entered was across from double pedestal sinks, each with their own oval mirror, and between the two, a plush honey-gold and white carpet overlaid a third of the pale green marble tile that covered the floor. Two stalls – complete with doors – were on the right, and across from it - another pocket door in between – was a large walk-in shower. To the left, a claw foot bathtub was angled in against the corner, with shelves behind it on both walls. The third door stood open, nearby, and Romeo walked toward it in search of his son.

  Light streamed from dual windows as he, his wife, and the concierge entered the room; the passphrase had been accurate: a cold but beautiful day.

  The room was set up with a full-sized bed, as well as a twin, each centered underneath a window, a toy chest Angus was already exploring at the end of the twin. The room was in blues, greens, and creams with hints of gold, and seemed a pleasant atmosphere for plenty of imagination, with framed movie posters on the walls from children’s flicks ranging from the 50s to the 90s. Pendant lamps, and a tiered standing lamp sitting between the beds, helped tie in the furnishings, as well as the oak frames of the beds.

  A four-drawer armoire and mirror rested against the wall that shared the pocket door into the bathroom, and beside it, a closet door.

  Was there no door to the living room, Romeo wondered? He took a few more steps inside and re-evaluated, only to find that there was a second pocket door; this one adjoining the wall with the living room, about where he figured the ramp had ended on the other side.

  “Wow, what did you find,” Calico asked their son as she knelt down next to him. He picked up a purple plastic Tyrannosaurus Rex in one hand and a miniature, stuffed Ewok in the other, and grinned, roaring as he tilted the dinosaur back and forth.

  “Wow, those are pretty cool,” Romeo told him. “Wanna take them with us to go see Momma and Daddy’s room?”

  The boy nodded, his red-blonde hair catching the light. Calico held a hand
out for the Ewok and he handed it to her, and then took her free hand, carrying the T-Rex underneath his other arm as they followed Mario and Romeo to the other room.

  This, too, like the living room, had a picture window on one side; there was a skylight above the bed, covered with some sort of fabric tandem shade in a pale blue that nearly matched the paint. A queen size bed – made of mahogany, its long posters winding in twirls – was in the center of the room, with little mahogany nightstands to match on both sides. A chaise against the wall on the left, and on the right, underneath the picture window, was a settee. On either side of this were shelves ready for knickknacks, books, and collectibles, with potted ferns nearby.

  The color scheme was something he would have to get used to, but overall, he was pleased with it. Their bedspread, a satiny two-toned silver material with roses and ivy embroidered into it, juxtaposed with the pale pink of the chaise, which scrolled away into mahogany feet. Pale blue cushions tied them together, a shade darker than the walls. Mahogany wainscoting encircled the room, adding an extra dimension to the room, and matching mahogany dressers, with their curled feet and clear crystal knobs and handles, sat side by side with a single, large mirror above them. The insides of both pocket doors, too, were mirrored, and there was a chalkboard between them, complete with two brand new boxes of chalk sitting in the railing underneath.

  On it, someone had written, “Welcome, Ferguson family! May you enjoy your stay, and never be without what you need. Do not hesitate to call, day or night, and someone from the front desk will assist you.” A bit lower, there was a list of names off to the side.

  “Mario, Clementina, Urban, Prudence, Cassidy, Joel, Amos, Mitchell, Bishop, Susan, and Casper,” it read as a single line, each name written in a rainbow of colors.

  “What’s this,” Romeo asked, pointing the list out as Angus began jumping on the bed with his dinosaur.

  Calico and Mario walked toward the board, as well, as Mario spoke.

  “That’s the team we will be providing you here. We aren’t in Brice’s jurisdiction, and so we have a different head of team here; that’s Joel. And so, this is who you’ll be introduced to this evening after dinner… or possibly tomorrow, at the latest,” he said, pausing to check his watch. “Speaking of which, Otto’s lunch should be up, and Amos isn’t on duty until three, so I should get back downstairs. I’ll grab the cart on the way out.”

  And with that, the young man slipped out the pocket door that led to the living room. Romeo followed him, and noticed it opened up near the couch, with a ramp heading back down into the sunken area.

  Thank God it isn’t stairs, he thought as he watched Mario collect the cart and wave. He waved in return as he continued further into the living room to look it over more thoroughly.

  Wait,” he called, suddenly recalling the keys. “You forgot to give me the-.”

  “Got them,” Mario called back. “I just realized the same thing.” He reached into his pocket, grabbing two sets and extracting one with the other hand. “Here, catch,” he said, tossing them into the air with a smile.

  As the keys tumbled through the air, Romeo continued forward, his arms now up, reaching for them.

  “Aw, fumble,” he heard Calico say behind him as they landed at his feet with a jingle. “Too bad. You almost had them.”

  Twenty Two

  Salem, Oregon… February 13, 2025

  “Ain’ I up fo’ parole yet, given da new circ’mstance, Couns’lor,” Arthur asked Officer Perry as he pitched himself into a corner chair. “I mean, I been here more’n twenty o’ them years I been sent’ced ta by da judge, an’ all dis time, Mark Jeffries done had a part in it an’ done no time. Shouldn’t dat go twards somethin’?”

  “I cannot discuss cases in the works with you other than your own, Mr. Reynolds,” she said. “Needless to say, this will affect your own case, but not necessarily for the better. In fact, it has shed light on what happened prior to the deaths of your victims. It may well add time, rather than detract from it,” she continued as she began to type.

  “It be about my case, so ain’t I got a right to know,” he asked her, clenching his jaw, as well as his fists. “I mean, not as iffen I wasn’ here when ya tole him he might get charge, ya know.”

  “I understand your concern, Mr. Reynolds, I do. And yes, you were, indeed, here when I discussed initial potentials with the man, but what the state and court system decide are things I cannot get into with my clients. It isn’t appropriate,” she clarified.

  “And as for parole, we can try it, but don’t get your hopes up. People don’t do too kindly with certain types of crime, and I don’t think they really relish the thought of someone being released who’d kidnapped, falsely imprisoned, tortured, and murdered two women – sane or not at the time – and in the process, killed his own unborn child. That just isn’t how it’s-“

  “I be tellin’ ya, as I tole ya from da start, an’ dat Rogers guy a’fore ya, I can’t have no kids, so dat gal can’t ha’been carryin’ ma baby. Somethin’ messed up if ain’ nobody listen to me… I might be in here a’cause o’ some tings, but dat isn’ one of ‘em,” he protested, shifting in his seat, forcing his voice to stay regulated.

  The last thing he needed was someone telling him all over again how the state thought he was the father of Andrea Juarez’s baby… or that he’d killed Rosemary Jenkins. Because if there were two things he knew, deep down, it was that neither was possible; Rosemary couldn’t have just disappeared into nothing, so she had to be alive somewhere… but where?

  And since his doctor insisted he couldn’t have children, how was it that everyone kept insisting he’d been a father, unknowingly and uncaringly? Didn’t they think that if he sensed Andrea had told the truth, he’d have done what he could to protect her and allow her baby to be born before carrying out his plans?

  Not that they’d turned out as he’d hoped, anyway. It just wasn’t anything to admit to those around him. That’d be like asking someone to send him to the electric chair instead of just giving him time… and who’d be dumb enough to do that, when they didn’t need to?

  Sure, life was depressing in here… but at least he was alive. So what if it wasn’t all the way; his heart still pumped, his family still wrote, Mark had re-connected with him and confirmed one of his suspicions, laying to rest one question he’d had for over twenty years. Andrea’s death, and that of her baby, were an accident; even the officer who’d witnessed it had to have known it was unintentional; he’d planned to let her live at least another week more.

  “So ya can’t even say if he done been charge or if there’s a possib’lity ta get out anytime soon? I gots mo’ good time than time in da hole… don’t dat count for nothin’?”

  “All the time you’ve been here counts, but yes, your time in solitary has added a number of months to your sentence… and that’s something I, on my own, cannot change,” the woman answered him, pausing from her typing to rub first one set of fingers, then the other, as if they were painful.

  “We can go ahead and file a petition for parole, if you insist,” she continued. “But don’t start counting chickens yet.”

  The door clinked shut as Arthur sat down on his thin, worn mattress, grumbling.

  Why was it that people didn’t want to face reality? It wasn’t as if he’d killed on purpose; he could deal with the other charge, which he more than served his time for, he was sure.

  Couldn’t people see that he’d done nothing wrong? Not purposefully.

  At least not murder.

  “Well, hello, Reynolds. What’s new,” his cellie, Benny Maplethorpe, asked him, his English accent annoying Arthur more than normal.

  His dark brown mustache and shortly cropped hair – both flirting with the idea of graying – showed evidence that he’d gotten enough money together to clean up… the beard he’d sported the past eleven months, now gone. His thumb held his place in the book he was reading, and after a moment, he set it down instead.

  W
ell, iffen he didn’ use ‘is earnings for a cut, den he sure made a trade, Arthur thought, though who’d wanna trade someb’dy as straight and religious as Maplethorpe, ‘cept some other nutjob? A’sides that, I thought he didn’ like getting’ out o’ the cell. Not dat he c’n help it when he’s off t’ da kitchen fo’ work.

  “Nothin’. Jus’ try’na do ma thang,” he replied. “Missed yard time t’ do it, too, ‘n I’s gonna make a few calls, so now gots ta wait ‘til t’morrow, which sucks.”

  “Isn’t tomorrow Valentine’s Day,” the man asked him. “I don’t know who you want to call, but given the holiday status, some might not answer the phone or be available,” he continued, climbing down off his bunk.

  “Jus’ wannid ta call ma sisters, Man, ain’t no big deal. Dey answer no matter what, widout fail. Ain’t gonna be no prob’em… jus’ annoyin’. I was plannin’ to avoid whoever I could tomorrow, dat’s all.”

  “Oh, hey, you missed mail call, too,” Maplethorpe said all of a sudden. “And they’ve got a few things for you, so they said it’d be dropped off later. Don’t know why they don’t just leave it with me. What am I gonna do with it?”

  Arthur lifted his head to look at the man and then with a sigh, sat back up and moved to the desk. “Dunno. What would ya do wit it,” he asked. “Would I’a gotten it, or not?”

  “Of course I’d give it to you, Arthur. It’s your mail, after all. I have no need for it, and no wish to read it. I just think it’s silly that, when they know cellies work well together and have some modicum of trust with one another that they would still think something might happen to cause a problem. I mean, look at how we’ve stood up for each other; defended one another,” Maplethorpe continued. “I’ve got more interesting things to read, and I surely don’t need you harping on me about anything, so there’s no point even trying, like I did when I first got here.”