The Travelling Detective: Boxed Set

by Joan Donaldson-Yarmey

"Are you sure that’s what they say?" Lisa asked.

  "Read them for yourself," Bonnie said, giving her the booklet.

  "Wouldn’t it be nice if this all came true," Lisa breathed, handing it back.

  "It will if you believe and work at it," Bonnie said.

  As everyone began to leave. Sally leaned over and said to Bonnie. "If Kendra’s and a few others are so dead on, I think you should heed your cards and be careful."

  "I know," Bonnie said, as she slowly put her cards in their box.

  * * *

  I shouldn’t have stayed after lunch. I should have come to my room and had a nap. But I didn’t and the aura starts again as soon as I close my door. I rush to my computer.

  * * *

  Gwin noticed more yellow and orange leaves in among the green ones on the trees and bushes. She thought the trees were so beautiful with their new colours but wondered, as a few others did, why they had changed.

  The tall grass in the fields and meadows turned a golden yellow. The birds that had been singing in the trees gathered in flocks and flew away. There was a lessening of daylight hours and the air turned cooler.

  One day she saw dark clouds forming in the distance. They slowly advanced towards the colony, a cold wind preceding them. Soon they blocked the sun and the blue sky, and as they moved overhead it began raining lightly. The drops spattered the dry ground sending up miniature dust clouds.

  The prisoners, who hadn’t experienced rain on their former planet, ran in it, tilted their heads to feel it on their faces, and opened their mouths to taste it. However, as the centre of the storm moved closer the clouds grew darker and wind blew stronger. Lightning streaked across the sky followed by the heavy rumblings of thunder. The flashes and noise scared the convicts and they scurried into their dormitories.

  Gwin stood in the doorway and watched the rain. Soon there were large puddles in front of the buildings and the water flowed in a stream down the middle of the streets taking a lot of the dirt with it. The canvases used for roofs sagged as the water gathered in them.

  The evening meal was cold because no fires could be lit. During the night the storm passed and in the morning the prisoners got up to slick, muddy streets. By the next day, though, almost everything was dry again.

  But soon the storms returned in force. The air turned cold and the rain poured. After the first day the canvas roofs could not contain all the water and began to leak. Gwin, like most of the other prisoners could not sleep because of the constant dripping of the water on her bed. On the second day, the canvas roofs, whipped by the increased wind, began to tear. The rain and wind pelted the people huddled in their wet blankets.

  The third day it was so cold Gwin could see her breath. The dirt floors of the buildings were now thick, slimy mud. Everyone in her dormitory slowly sloshed through it and went outside to stand in the mud there. The fourth day, the snow began and soon coated everything in white. The cold increased. People doubled up in their bunks to keep warm.

  Gwin felt disappointed and slightly betrayed. When she and her team had been here they hadn't seen any of this bad weather. Of course, they hadn't had time to fly over the whole planet but what they did see had been green and lush and warm and idyllic. She'd stood in front of the Leaders and asked them not to send the prisoners here because she hadn't wanted its beauty and its people spoiled. She'd been framed and sent to the Orbital Prisons because of her stance. And now the planet had changed. The beauty was gone, replaced by cold and rains and snow. It was as if the planet had turned on her.

  When the sun returned it was not as hot as it had been. The snow partially melted. Everyone shivered in their damp clothes. No one had eaten in days. The prisoners were starving and unwilling to wait for the cooks to clean up the stoves and prepare something. They rioted, heading en mass to the warehouses. The guards attempted to beat them back but sheer numbers dictated that the prisoners would win. The guards ran to the space ship letting the prisoners ransack the warehouses.

  The freezing convicts then stormed the space ship, wanting a warm place. The ship lifted off and hovered overhead for a few days. When it was clear that it would be unsafe to land, the ship left.

  Gwin could not describe her fear as she watched it leave. She knew they were all destined to die. Slowly. For the supply ship would never make it back with food before they starved.

  She wandered around looking at the damage. All of the canvas roofs were torn. The stoves were useless. Most of the animals had died due to the cold or flooding in their pens. The planted fields were underwater.

  She knew her only hope was the inhabitants.

  * * *

  I just barely finish and Mikk starts in. He had heard about the change in weather on the new planet and the rioting, and has been frantically trying to find out about a rescue flight to the settlement planet so that he can go and bring Gwin back. So far, none is scheduled and his worry increases. Can she and the other prisoners survive without some sort of immediate help? To take his mind off her for a while he visits the Separation Room.

  * * *

  Mikk joined Bob and Shar in the Separation Room. A prisoner with a shaved head was brought in escorted by two guards. She stood silently as Shar ran through the warning.

  "You have volunteered for an experiment that has had some favourable results and some that are not so favourable. If it works you will be given your freedom and a pension for the rest of your life. This is your last opportunity to change your mind." She looked at her expectantly.

  "I'll go for it," the prisoner said. "At least it gives me a chance to get out of the Orbital Prisons."

  "Then if you would lie on this table, we will get started," Bob said.

  The guards remained until the prisoner's body, arms, legs and head were strapped securely to the table. "Where are you sending me?" She could only stare at the ceiling.

  "To a planet called Zedor," Bob said, as he rolled the prisoner's sleeves up and attached electrodes.

  "Where is that?"

  "It's in our galaxy."

  "What am I going to do there?"

  "You'll be transplanted into the head of an occupant of the planet and will see and hear what it sees and hears."

  "And then what?"

  "After a week you'll be brought back to your body and you'll be able to tell us what is on that planet."

  "Don't you already know what's there?"

  "Yes, but we want you to tell us so we know the experiment worked."

  "Are you sure I'll come back?" A note of fear appeared in her voice.

  "There's always an element of risk," Bob said, taping more electrodes to her shaved skull.

  Mikk watched as part of the prisoner’s head was frozen and a piece of her skull removed. Then the procedure began that would separate the mind from the brain. The prisoner lay still as if waiting for some sort of strange feeling in her brain. Suddenly she emitted a dreadful scream. Mikk jumped and looked over at her in time to see her eyes close and her body go limp. Neither Bob nor Shar seemed concerned.

  "Why did she scream like that?" Mikk asked.

  Bob shrugged. "They all do at the moment of separation."

  "Does it hurt?"

  "I don't know. None of the minds have come back so far."

  "Why not?'

  "We believe they aren't strong enough to take over the mind that is already in the host body on the planet and so they are killed."

  "Why do you continue to send them?"

  "We’re hoping eventually we will find the right technique that will give our minds greater strength."

  "How will her mind locate a body on the planet?" Mikk asked, as he watched Shar unstrap the prisoner then go to the door and signal two attendants to enter the room. They guided a bed to the side of the table, moved the body onto it and then pushed it out of the room.

  "She just searches for a host and tries to enter it," Bob answered.

  "So it doesn't necessarily find an intelligent being."

  "No. But we've
been studying the inhabitants of Zedor and with our changes, we’re hoping that this time she will be able to determine intelligent life from animal life. When that intelligent life is found then the mind will enter it."

  "What makes you think that it will be able to enter easier?"

  "Animal minds are fierce and merciless. They have developed their competitive skills in order to beat other animals to prey. They are totally focussed on hunting and on raising their young and their instinct is to fight savagely to maintain their lives. We are hoping that our minds and those of the people of Zedor are similar and that the Zedor mind won't be as brutal in protecting itself."

  "When will it reach the planet?" Mikk asked.

  "It's there already."

  "How does it enter the host?"

  "All species breath so it enters through their breathing passages and goes directly to the brain.

  "When will you know if her mind has entered someone?"

  "The mind will send a signal to our computer as soon as there is contact." He walked over to where Shar was seated in front of the computer. She punched a few keys then shook her head.

  "And what happens on contact?"

  "We hope that the new process works and her mind is stronger than the inhabitant's mind so she can overpower it."

  "What will she do then?"

  "She'll be able to use the body to explore the planet and will come back here with vital information about it."

  "How is your experiment with freezing coming along?" Shar asked.

  "The freezing and thawing works on the body but it kills the mind."

  "So if we separated the mind first, you could send both it and the body to a planet," Bob said speculatively. "There they would reattach and could then explore."

  Mikk thought about it. "But how would you get them both back?" he asked. "There wouldn't be a separation machine handy."

  "We'd have to find a way of removing the information from the mind while it is on the planet."

  "And then just leave the person there?"

  Bob inclined his head. "Sometimes the knowledge is worth more than a few lives."

  "We received a signal," Shar said.

  "Already?" Mikk asked, surprised.

  "It doesn’t take long," Bob said, going over to where Shar sat at the computer. "What did it say?"

  "It was scrambled like the other ones."

  "You mean her mind lost the fight," Mikk said.

  "I'm afraid so." Shar nodded.

  "What are you going to do now?"

  "Well, our only hope is to look for an unformed mind on that planet," Bob said. "One that hasn’t been instilled with any teachings or instincts."

  "And where are you going to find one of those?"

  "We have no idea yet, but we’ll keep searching."

  Chapter 8

  When Elizabeth returned to the bed and breakfast she saw that there was a For Sale sign in front of the house next to Alison and Rick’s. Were they the first of the neighbours to want to get away from the stigma of living close to where a murder had taken place?

  She saw Alison sitting at a small table on her porch with another woman. Alison beckoned her over. Elizabeth put Chevy on his leash, then went across to see her. On her way over she noticed that someone had put a bouquet of flowers in front of the lot. Had it been a family member or a stranger moved by the story?

  Alison introduced Elizabeth to Cynthia Newcomb, her neighbour. Cynthia was in her early sixties with brunette hair laced with gray and brown eyes. She was casually dressed in slacks and short-sleeved blouse.

  "Have you heard anything new about the young girl found across the road?" Elizabeth asked, once she was seated.

  "Just what I’ve heard on the news," Alison said. "The police were here questioning us but they just wanted information. They didn’t give any out.”

  "Yes," Cynthia agreed. "They came to see me, too.

  "Would you ladies like some iced tea?" Alison asked, standing.

  "I’d like some," Cynthia said, while Elizabeth declined.

  When Alison had gone into the house Cynthia looked over her shoulder, then leaned towards Elizabeth. "I hear that you’re an amateur detective," she whispered.

  Elizabeth grinned self-consciously. "I have worked on a few mysteries." She also lowered her voice although she wasn’t sure why.

  "Could I hire you to work for me?"

  "Oh, no," Elizabeth protested, holding her hands up in front of her. "I’m not that type of detective."

  "But you’ve helped solve murders," Cynthia said. "Beverly told me."

  "Yes, but…" Elizabeth didn’t know where to begin an explanation of how and what she had done. She’d basically stumbled into the first two, and then there was Jared’s mother’s murder that the two of them had solved last year. So it wasn’t as if she’d sought them out. "I really don’t know anything about how to conduct an investigation."

  "Well, you must know something or you wouldn’t have been so successful."

  "Why don’t you hire a professional private investigator?" Maybe that would satisfy her.

  "There aren’t any here," Cynthia said. "And if I get one from Vancouver then I have to pay his travelling time to come here, plus accommodations."

  "I’m sorry…" Elizabeth started to say.

  "Aren’t you even interested in hearing what I want you for?" Cynthia asked, quickly looking towards the house again.

  Elizabeth really wanted to shake her head and say "No," but that was impossible. "Okay," she said. "Tell me."

  "I want you to find out who that young girl was who was buried in the basement across the road."

  "You do?" Elizabeth blurted out. "Why do you want to know who she is?"

  Before Cynthia could answer the door opened and Alison stepped out carrying a tray with a pitcher and three glasses on it. She set it on the table and poured her and Cynthia each a glass. "I brought an extra one for you in case you changed your mind," she said to Elizabeth. "Now what were we discussing?"

  "The death of the young girl," Cynthia said. She looked directly at Elizabeth. "I’ll bet her family would like to know what happened."

  "I read in the newspaper this morning that there are already three families who have come here to see if she is their missing daughter," Alison said.

  "There will probably be a lot more before this is solved," Cynthia said.

  "I hear you’re a travel writer," Alison said to Elizabeth.

  "Yes," Elizabeth admitted. "I’m working on an article about Whistler in the summer."

  "Where have you been so far?" Cynthia asked.

  "The village, the Scandanave Spa, Green Lake, and I just finished walking some of the trails behind here."

  "Ah, yes," Alison nodded. "Are you going to the Whistler Olympic Park?"

  "I saw the sign on my way into Whistler," Elizabeth said. "What is there to see?"

  "It’s privately owned and the owners offer tours once a day. For just under $100.00 you get to see where the luge and some of the ski runs took place during the 2010 Olympics, plus you get a lunch."

  "Can’t I drive there?" She hadn’t asked the person at the information centre about it because she’d just assumed it was open to the public. That’s what assuming gets you, she thought.

  "No," Alison said. "It’s about a five kilometre drive from the highway to a gate across the road. And you can’t see anything from the gate. However, if you want to get pictures of bears that road is a good place to find them."

  Elizabeth stood. "I better get back to work," she said. "Thank you for the information." She turned to Cynthia unsure of what to say. It was obvious that she didn’t want Alison to know what they had talked about. "It was nice meeting you."

  "I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon," Cynthia said with a smile.

  * * *

  Sally was working on her laptop when Elizabeth and Chevy entered. She looked up and grinned.

  "Now, I can take a break," she said, standing and stretching her arms over
her head. "I said I would stick at this until you came back."

  "Is it that hard?"

  Sally smiled ruefully. "I think that Daryl might be right about me being at the retreat. I’m still totally lost."

  "How is your assignment going?"

  "Not very well and now we have another one. Apparently, I’m supposed to have an opinion about whether space aliens should be part of science fiction or of fantasy. Tomorrow we will be taking sides and having a debate about it.”

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, the way I figure it is, if you believe they are real, then writing about them falls into regular writing or science fiction. If you don’t think they are real then stories about them should be called fantasy writing. It would be like writing about a horse vs. a unicorn."

  "I’m not sure I follow," Elizabeth grinned. "But I’m not about to ask any more questions."

  "Good, because I don’t have the answers."

  "Let’s share a cooler on the balcony while I tell you about my news."

  Sally grabbed a cooler from their fridge while Elizabeth got two glasses. "So, tell me," Sally said, as she divided the drink into the glasses.

  "I told you about the couple I met who live across the street, the ones who told me about the rumour."

  Sally nodded.

  "Well, just now when I came back, Alison was on her patio with another woman and they beckoned me over. I went and it turns out this woman, Cynthia, wants to hire me to find out who the girl was under the house."

  "She wants to hire you? Pay you money?"

  Elizabeth grinned. "That’s what she said."

  "What did you say?"

  "No, of course."

  "So, did she tell you why?"

  Elizabeth took a sip of her drink and explained the meeting to Sally.

  "So, you’re not interested in finding out who the young girl is and what happened to her?"

  "Of course I am," Elizabeth laughed. "But I have no idea where to begin looking. As I told her I am not a professional with training. Besides, I think the police will uncover who the young woman was and how she died soon enough. All Cynthia has to do is wait."