A FATAL FESTIVAL (Alethea, The Circus Sleuth Book 3)

by Jenna Coburn

  Chapter X

  Less than an hour later, they were on their way into the wetlands. It was strangely stereotypical as far as hideouts go—away from other people, somewhere in the wilderness, a half-deserted hut that served as the place where the gangsters made their last stand. They started out in the car, but had to switch to a boat at some point. There were four of them: Agent Westley, Alethea, Virgil, and the heavyset man who drove the boat. Apparently, the mud came from an area so sparsely populated that there were few possibilities where anyone could hide, unless they just put up a tent in some dry spot. There was an old, half-decaying house that no one had any interest in anymore, not even squatters.

  Virgil sat in the back of the boat, clutching a walking stick and looking sinister in a way that only an old man could, like he had seen the whole world turn black and against him. He stared straight ahead, and Alethea had given up on talking to him. Whatever went on in his mind, it was not pleasant. The idea that he was an old sorcerer, which was more or less what they had established earlier, just served to make him spookier. She certainly looked at him with new eyes.

  Agent Westley stood at the prow of the boat, like a valorous seaman, keeping the lookout as if he were at all familiar with the area. She could see in his face that it was his first time coming to the Everglades, just like it was her first time. The nature was almost as spooky as the circus director they were transporting, a fact that was further emphasized by the sun slowly going down. They had powerful lights on the boat, but didn’t have to turn them on yet. They hoped to arrive before sundown.

  “Miss Thwaite, come over here for a second,” Holden called out to her, his phone in his hand. She obliged. “You remember how we talked about contact poison? Turns out that they found a smidgen of blood on the blade, but the interesting part is that it’s not Mr. Selby’s. The blood type does not match. They found another person’s blood on his sword.”

  Alethea looked at him with surprise. “But what does that mean? Did he stab someone with it?” Holden shrugged.

  “It’s possible, if a bit unlikely. Then again, he might have cleaned most of the blood off.” He turned and looked ahead of them again. “If he attacked someone with it, they might have a good motive to kill him.”

  Alethea hadn’t told Westley what Ma and Pa Circus had revealed to her, and it was difficult to bring it up at all—not just because of the strange atmosphere of the place, making her feel as if any human presence were an encroachment, an intrusion to where they should not be, but also because she wasn’t sure how to explain anything without inevitably starting to talk about magic in one form or another. Yet, looking at the clouds above, the green of the trees and plants, and listening to the sounds of nature, she felt differently.

  Perhaps this was the perfect place to talk about magic. They were breathing it in with the air, after all. Looking at the profile of Agent Westley, she had to wonder what kind of man he was and if he thought himself to know the things between the heaven and the earth. Alethea felt humbled with the things she had learned, and less sure with every passing day.

  “It’s that there place,” the driver suddenly yelled out and pointed to somewhere beyond a thicket of bushes and trees. Behind it, one could faintly see the outlines of walls and a half-fallen roof, and as they approached, the house revealed itself more. It was made of half-rotted wood, looking as if it could just decide to collapse at a minute’s notice. On the quay in front of it was a motorboat, looking much less derelict and signifying a human presence within.

  They turned off the motor and approached slowly. Agent Westley readied his gun, not knowing if whoever was in might decide to defend themselves with a potential deadly force. A moment later, he jumped off the boat and onto the quay and yelled out, “This is Special Agent Holden Westley of the FBI! To anyone who is inside, step outside slowly with your hands showing!” There was no answer.

  Alethea fastened the boat to the quay and climbed out, helping Virgil follow after them. The brusque old man instantly started walking towards the entrance of the house, past Westley, who looked at him with a furrowed brow. “Hey!” he hissed, but the circus director moved ahead with steady steps. Holden had no other choice but to brush past him, closely followed by Alethea, who didn’t want to miss anything.

  Entering the creaky old building, Westley took low, quick breaths and looked around. There was some faint light coming from a room deeper within, and his weapon at the ready, Westley charged forward, kicked open the door, and jumped inside. Alethea ran in after him, breathlessly looking around. There was no one inside, but some candles were burning and a sleeping bag was in one corner, along with a camping cooker with some sort of soup slow-cooking on top of it. All signs that someone was just there.

  “Oh damn,” they suddenly heard a voice coming from behind them. Whipping around, they saw Kaley, coming in from the other side of the house. She was just pulling up her pants. The situation was suddenly very awkward. In a fraction of a second, a decision was made. She looked at them, looked at the gun, looked at the exit past them, looked at her hands pulling on her pants, and then Virgil came through the entrance, looked her in the eye, and one could see how her resistance fell. She gave up her plans of running.

  “I am Special Agent Holden Westley. We are investigating this location in relation to a murder. Identify yourself.” He had already lowered his gun, but was still ready to raise it again. And yet, Kaley continued to look past him. She glared at Virgil, pure loathing in her eyes.

  “Ask him to identify me,” she just spat.

  “Kaley Warrick,” Virgil said loud and clear. “I hope you are happy with what you’ve done. You will have a long time to think about it all.” The old man glared back at her with almost the same intensity. There was no love lost between the two of them. Not anymore.

  “Okay, Miss Warrick. You will have to come with us in relation to the murder of Obed Selby. Also, you are obviously squatting.”

  “Am I under arrest?”

  Holden whipped out his handcuffs. “Does this answer your question, Miss Warrick?” Alethea looked at him with large eyes, then looked at Kaley and bit her lip. She never knew where Westley’s trust came from. He was ready to arrest this woman on a hunch, trusting that they would have enough on her once he actually brought her in. While he took care of her, Alethea started looking around the only inhabited room of the house, searching through Kaley’s things for anything that might link her to the murder.

  Virgil joined her, watching her sift through the few possessions that Kaley had brought to her hideout. Alethea wasn’t sure if she was correctly following police procedure, but she still went through the pockets of Kaley’s jacket, finding her wallet. Sifting through it, Alethea found a small, nondescript vial of what she could only be the poison. She also found a blood donor card that clearly stated her blood type.

  “I hope that is enough,” Virgil said, looking at her with intensity in his gaze.

  “I think it is,” she replied.

  They looked at each other for a long moment, until Holden came back into the room and interrupted their staring match. “You do not have to look through anything here, just take all of her belongings and anything else that might seem important. Then I’ll give the room a last look-over, and we’ll leave before the sun is down fully. Nobody wants to be out here all night. Except for Miss Warrick, of course.” He smiled politely, and then helped Alethea in transporting the goods to the boat, including the soup with the commentary that “even a prisoner should not go hungry.”

  Soon they were on their way back, while day turned to night. Kaley sat in the back of the boat. Virgil kept some distance, and Alethea and Holden sat together. The blood type matched the blood on the blade; they had already established that much.

  “Kaley,”Alethea attempted. “It’s clear that you’re linked to this murder. The poison, the blood, the witnesses that saw you and Obed…why don’t you just tell us what happened?”

  Kaley glared at her, but put on a wry
smile. “Can’t even wait until we’re at the interrogation chamber, can you?” She ground her teeth. “Everything should be clear in front of you.” She looked over to Virgil. “The only thing you may not realize, dear sweet Alethea, is who that man really is. He isn’t just a circus director. He isn’t just some old performer who now organizes things. He’s not even a weird, mysterious old man.” Virgil looked at her, listening in on what she had to say, but showing no reaction on his face. “He’s my father, you know.”

  Both Holden and Alethea instantly turned to look at Virgil, surprise in their eyes, which was only heightened as the old man nodded. “At least he admits it now,” Kaley spat. She looked back to Alethea. “I’ll give you one piece of advice. Nothing is as it seems. Who you think are your friends are nothing of the sort. You’re going to realize it all soon enough.” Having said her piece, she started to stare ahead but kept talking.

  “I killed Obed with poison, that’s true. I killed him because he betrayed me, and I had to realize that he’s against me, too. For a long time, I thought he was like me, but I had to find out I was wrong. He was not like me at all.” Her head sunk. “We weren’t alike at all.” That was the last thing she said, her voice half-broken at the end. She stopped talking because she did not want anyone there to see her cry; she sunk into herself, just waiting, fighting her own demons.

  Alethea did not understand anything, but that was an old story. She thought that finding the person responsible would give her closure, but she found none of that, at least not on this boat as it sped through the night. Virgil’s expression became as inscrutable as it had been before, offering no explanation. There would be no purpose in asking him anything now.

  As if naturally, Alethea’s cold hand sought out Holden’s, and she found his palm to be incredibly warm. They shared a passing glance, and then looked at the wetlands again, listened to its countless sounds. As the night fell, the soundscape grew denser, as if many creatures were only waking up.

  “I’ve got a question, Agent Westley.”

  “Yes, Miss Thwaite?”

  “Is it okay if I call you Holden?”

  “Only if I may call you Alethea.”

  “It’s a deal then, Holden.”

  They smiled at each other. “I’ve got a question too, Alethea.” She raised an eyebrow at him, but then nodded as a sign for him to go ahead. He looked away from her, gazing far into the swamp and maybe even further. Struggling with the words, the long pause created a strange feeling of ceremonious expectation. In the end, he leaned toward her, speaking in a small voice and creating an air of conspiracy.

  “Virgil Ardelean. Who is he to you?” He looked into her eyes with an open expression.

  “He’s….” She looked over at the old man. “He’s my boss and a friend…and my mentor, in a way.” She bit her lip. “Why are you asking?”

  “I am just wondering. He is a mysterious man, after all, isn’t he?” Holden looked over to Kaley. “This woman is his daughter? How can that be? What happened between them?” He sighed softly. “I am sorry, Alethea. Perhaps my curiosity is getting ahead of me. I should not try to pry into people’s personal affairs. As far as I am concerned, anyone can do whatever they like without breaking any laws. No one is required to have a good relationship with their parents or their children.”

  “I understand. I can’t really wrap my head around that, either. Virgil told me about Kaley. I think he does not know her too well. I doubt she has grown up with him. Maybe she was one of those children that never met their father until they were already adults, themselves. He is an old man, and…I think he did more than one thing he may regret.” Alethea looked around, swallowing dryly. “Virgil told me he thought she was a bad person. He said that in some way, he expected her life to turn down this road. It sounded like that was long ago.”

  It was strange to talk about two of the people among them so openly, trusting that they couldn’t hear them, anyway. “Holden, I…I think you will understand everything once you talk to America and Virgil when they’re ready to tell you everything.” Somehow, Alethea started to feel defensive about it all—the circus, the magic, America and Virgil, and the strange secrets they shared. At the same time, she wished Holden was in there with her. She wished she could tell him all these strange things, and he could understand.

  Silence descended between the both of them, and they both looked up to the sky. Their hands were still touching, neither of them ready to let go. “There’s the moon,” Holden suddenly pointed out. It must have been almost full that night. Great and round and bright, it looked out from behind the thin smattering of clouds and bathed the earth in a pale blue light.

  “Now that you’re in the special circus crime division, do you think we’ll see each other again after this is over?”

  “I am supremely confident we’ll see each other again, Alethea.” He smiled at her.

  “In fact, I believe it is of the utmost importance that we meet again.”

  She raised her eyebrow at him. “How so?”

  “We work very well together. I am at a point where I am contemplating ways to make you consider a career in law enforcement. There is much good you could do if you followed in my footsteps, which is why I’d like to see you convinced to do exactly that. You are still very young, too. Maybe you will realize sometime that the circus life isn’t for you, after all.”

  Alethea looked over to Virgil and to Kaley before settling her eyes on Holden again. “Circus life certainly seems more dangerous than it should, I’ll give you that. Then again, law enforcement doesn’t exactly have a reputation for being the safest job in the world.”

  Holden drew a deep breath of the Florida night air, looked up to the moon, and then sighed. His hand pressed down on Alethea’s, and finally he turned back and looked into her eyes. “Next time we meet, Alethea. Next time we’ll talk.”

  She felt strangely flattered, watching him as he now stood up and went back to his station at the prow of the boat. They had a large, bright spotlight ahead of them. If only she could see so brightly ahead into her future. If only she knew what she should make of all this magic and this strange, murderous rivalry. For the first time since America had mentioned the word, Letha began to understand that this magic was perhaps not a wellspring of health and fortune. Perhaps it was the opposite. Perhaps it explained why the world seemed to have taken such a dark turn.

  Opening her eyes did not mean she would like what she might see.

  ~~~