by Wilson, Maer
Most of the time, our work was not very demanding. A lot of it was simply locating stuff or delivering messages, that sort of thing. It was also emotionally rewarding, knowing we were helping folks who had very few options.
Sometimes, we got tougher cases. Get rid of a nasty spirit who refused to move on or deal with non-human entities. Those could be very tricky and involved a lot more caution. At the same time, they were exciting. Pitting our skills against the challenges of those cases and winning was very satisfying to say the least. But we were careful, too. When our instincts were on alert, we paid attention.
Thulu parked the SUV in the garage, and the kids met us in the back yard.
“The house is empty and nothing seems touched, but I'll check the neighborhood, just in case.” Thulu and I nodded our thanks as Parker took off, with Jenna still in tow.
Thulu and I made our way around to the front, looking over the outside as we went up the walk. The house was a rich cream color, with contrasting coral and brick red trim. The front porch ran the width of the house and held plants and a swing.
We went in the front door, locking it behind us and resetting the alarm. A long, wide hallway ran straight to the back door. Light came from the rooms on both sides and from the open stairwell that went up all three stories.
“Let's check out the whole house anyway, okay?” Even though I knew it was empty, my instincts were screaming that something was off somewhere. I just wanted to see for myself.
We moved to look in the first room on our left, the front parlor. The small room was done almost completely in antiques. Of course, no one was there. Beyond that was the formal dining room, which connected to the very modern kitchen. That opened into the hallway and the back door, which led to the enclosed porch. It was empty when I peeked out the window.
We went through the door to the basement. Thulu's woodworking area was clear. The washer and dryer sat silent in their corner, and the door to our small wine cellar was locked.
We went back upstairs and crossed the hallway to check the small bathroom across from the kitchen. The large family room next to it held our more modern furniture, with a big screen TV and a large and super comfy sofa and matching chairs, all in earth tones. Our study was to the right of the front door and held desks with our computers, chairs and a lovely window seat. All available wall space was lined with shelves full of our favorite books. Again, the rooms were clear.
We moved upstairs to the second floor, first checking our own room on the right. Our master suite had been two bedrooms, which we turned into one. There was a tiny morning area with a small breakfast table near the front bay windows. A window seat sat below, giving us a great view of the city. Thulu checked the walk-in closet, while I looked into a bathroom to die for.
Our master bath was one of our big splurges. Walking in it was like stepping into a small forest clearing. Plants were scattered throughout, creating little alcoves. The sunken tub and double vanity were black porcelain, surrounded by black marble. We'd had touch sensitive chrome fixtures installed throughout.
The shower was our crowning glory, though. It was gigantic and diamond-shaped, with the bottom part of the diamond cut off by the smooth glass door. The inside was faced with river rock. Numerous shower heads studded the walls at different heights for a totally luxurious and decadent feeling. I gave the empty room an appreciative smile.
Across the hall were two bedrooms with a connecting bathroom. Thulu checked one, while I checked the other. There was no one on the second floor, so we continued up to the third.
We quickly looked through the top floor. Formerly an attic, it had been partially closed off to make one more bedroom and bathroom. The back part of that floor still had a room for storage and another for our exercise equipment. There was also studio space for Thulu to practice Karate.
I was starting to feel a bit silly as we went back downstairs, grabbed sodas and went to our study. With my internal alarms kicked in, Thulu went to our gun safe in the study and removed our handguns. I double checked my Smith and Wesson .38, but I'd just cleaned it the week before, after we'd gone to the range. I slipped it back into its leather holster and put it in a special section in my purse.
Thulu and I were no slouches when it came to protecting ourselves. He was up to a fifth degree black belt in Karate, and my own street style had improved somewhat as well. At least I liked to think so. We hit the firing range often enough to keep up our skills.
I curled up on the thick cushions in the window seat in our study, while Thulu went to his computer. I stared out the window, trying to sort through my feelings and the facts we had so far. There were really too many small pieces at this point to see exactly where we should go next.
The obvious choice of going straight to Tyler Jones was not our style. We tended to do research and take the safer route where we could. Not that “safe” was really all that safe all the time, but while we'd pulled out the guns in the past, we'd never had to shoot anyone. We also had other means that we used to deal with the less corporeal entities.
A voice came from the air, “Knock, knock.”
“Come on in, Parker.” I answered.
“Jenna is still with me.”
“That’s fine.”
“Always, always ask for permission, Jenna,” I heard him say quietly to Jenna.
“Okay,” she said as they materialized.
Parker told us that he didn't find anyone in the area that seemed suspicious – living or dead or otherwise.
“I think we should stay here, La Fi. I can keep an eye out. I promise to stay visible.”
I thanked him and let Thulu know he would be staying. Parker was always so polite and thoughtful that I didn't mind his company as I might have with some of the others. Parker didn't exactly “live” with us, but we felt comfortable with him there. He would wander in, and we would spend a few hours just chatting.
Parker had been a gamer before he died, and he would share his experiences, knowing we'd follow easily. Or he might watch as Thulu and I played and call out advice on occasion. He had been one of those super brilliant players - intuitive to a degree only another gamer could appreciate.
I wondered again what had happened to him, but since Parker himself seemed in no hurry to remember, I never pushed it. I'm sure there was a degree of selfishness on my part, too. I enjoyed his company, simple as that.
Parker and Jenna moved through the French doors that connected the study to the family room. Parker turned on the TV. He could manipulate channels, sound and the volume, yet he couldn't impact the physical world, except in very rare cases. He thought his abilities had something to do with electrical currents and such.
My mind turned back to the pieces of the Tyler case. I needed to organize the details, but for the moment, I let them bounce around inside my head. It was how I thought things through. I knew that they'd start to fall into place, but I needed to just let things simmer.
I was thinking about Jane's locket when I remembered that I also needed to start thinking about Thulu's anniversary present. The day we met was so important to us both that we'd gotten married on the same day. I had yet to find something special for him this year. I pulled out my phone from my pocket, made a note on my calendar and promptly forgot about it. I still had a month to get clever and inventive, but I liked to spend time to find exactly the right gift. I got my electronic tablet out to make notes. I sorted through all of our new clients and put them in some semblance of order.
After that, I just sat and watched out the window. The sun was still high, but starting its afternoon descent into the sea.
Chapter 7
Thulu interrupted my reverie and called me over to show what he'd found about the Masons. I glanced through the open doors into the family room, where Parker and Jenna were still watching TV. I pulled my chair closer to Thulu's to read his monitor.
There were actually a few news articles. The Masons were from Chicago. Matt Mason was an architect and one of two partne
rs in a small firm. His partner was Paul Adams, and they had won a large bid four months before. There were a couple of short status blurbs on the project's progress. The bid was to build a new office building for the Grant Corp, an important local company.
Clicking the link in the article to Mason's website brought up nothing but a broken link.
An obituary from two months prior said that Paul Adams, Mason's partner, was killed in a hit-and-run traffic accident. There were few details and scanning the crime reports added little information, other than the name of the widow, Alicia.
A short article, dated a week later, mentioned that another firm would be taking over the Grant project. It also said that the Mason family would be relocating to Boston. With only dry facts to go on, I assumed that the loss of Adams was the reason for the change.
A quick visit to the Grant website showed us that they were large and definitely had money. It was big enough that we knew we'd get little or no information from them. Companies in that league usually kept everything protected in-house, so we didn't waste time on them. Besides, we had other ways to access information there, if it seemed we needed it.
The Adams number was listed, and his widow was our first call. We left a message on her voice mail, then looked for Masons in the area that might be connected. We came up with a sizable list and split them up and began to surf the net.
Thulu was the first to hit pay dirt. He found Matt and Carolyn on one of the social sites that people use to stay in touch. Matt used a medium level of privacy, so it was easy to see his posts. A Susan Mason posted on Mark's page.
Some of the pics on the site showed Susan, a pretty young woman who looked to be about twenty, with Matt and his family. Matt and Carolyn were in their mid-twenties. Carolyn and Jenna shared the same blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Matt was stocky, with dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. There were enough pictures that it was obvious the family was close.
Using one of our anonymous accounts, Thulu sent a message to Susan. He explained that we were old friends of Matt and Carolyn and were supposed to hook up with them a few days ago, but that they didn't show and phone calls went to voice mail.
Susan must have been online because we got an immediate answer.
“Hi, I'm Matt's sister. He moved his family to Boston,” she typed to us.
“Hey, Susan. We were a bit worried when they missed our dinner date.”
“They probably forgot. Matt's partner was killed in an accident and it hit Matt pretty hard. They moved to Boston. They aren't even answering me, except for little blurbs on here. I guess they're busy.”
“She has no idea anything is wrong.” Thulu frowned as I shook my head.
We messaged back a thank you. No sense upsetting her until we had all the details. Little Jenna's death alone was going to be super hard, if the pictures were anything to go by. Besides we had no proof, no bodies and little information. Telling strangers that I could talk to ghosts was hardly the way to get people to believe me. It rarely worked without extensive convincing, and we didn't feel we needed to spend time on that.
We scanned through Matt's posts. There was a definite change from two months before. He went from posting silly jokes and family pictures to posting short notes. “Tired from move, more later,” and “Busy unpacking,” were just two examples. And there were no new pictures whatsoever. In fact, after several posts a day and a new picture almost every day, Matt had not posted one picture in the last two months. About two weeks before, the posts became just a note every few days.
The pattern seemed to rule out Witness Protection, since that kind of posting would have been forbidden.
Okay, so the Masons had gone into hiding, but they were still trying to keep up appearances for family. That explained the less-than-professional way they had covered their tracks, but not much else.
“Has anything come to you, yet?” I asked Thulu.
He shook his head, glancing at me before returning his attention to his monitor. “Nothing. It's odd too, almost a blank.”
It was at that precise moment that my phone sang my most recent ringtone to me. I didn’t recognize the number as I answered it.
“Ah, La Fi, is it?” The voice was deep velvet. A voice one could listen to for hours, but one I didn't recognize.
“Yes, this is La Fi.”
“Excellent! I believe you will be looking for me soon and thought to invite you and Thulu over, sooner rather than later. This is Tyler Jones, by the way.”
Chapter 8
The blood drained from my face; I felt it go. Thulu saw and shot over to my side. We listened in together.
“Oh good, Thulu, glad you are there, too.”
How the hell did he know that? I went on the offensive, looking around uneasily. “What the hell is your game, Jones?”
“Shall we chat about that? Say tomorrow afternoon? My place? I assure you, you will be perfectly safe.”
“Why?” Thulu's voice was firm.
Jones laughed softly. “Why will you be safe or why do I want to chat?”
“Both,” Thulu answered.
Thulu and I exchanged looks of disbelief. I shrugged questioningly at him. He shook his head.
“Because I have been expecting the two of you to find me out for some time now, so I am rather interested in meeting you in person. And you are safe because, quite frankly, we have business to discuss.”
“We don't have any business with you, except to nail your ass.” I was adamant about that.
His response came back gentle as a breeze. “Oh, but my dear La Fi, I think we do. Besides, I have answers to questions that you recently started investigating.”
I didn't like being his dear anything, no matter how tempting meeting with him was. And even though it was very tempting, I could feel a trickle of cold sweat trace along my forehead, under my bangs. “Fine,” I said, “but not at your place. We prefer someplace a bit more public, thank you very much.”
Again with the low laugh that was charm itself. That laugh wasn't fair. It said, “I'm a nice person, warm, friendly, loving.” It should not belong to this killer. My senses were upside down as we arranged a mid-afternoon meeting at the wharf the next day.
“I look forward to seeing you both.” The line went dead as I sat staring at the phone, returning it to my desk.
I must have jumped a mile when it sang to me again.
“What are you doing? Are you okay? And why are you so upset?” Nana Fae's voice was full of concern.
“I think we may need your help, Nana.” Thulu had answered the phone. He looked at me, and I nodded.
“Okay, on my way. Want me to pick up takeout and you can fill me in over dinner?” I nodded again.
“Sounds good, Nana.” Thulu ended the call and set the phone down. I glared at it suspiciously, waiting for it to do something else, but it sat there innocently. I didn't buy its act, though.
I glanced over at Parker, who had floated in. I looked meaningfully at Jenna and he got the hint right away.
“Hey, Jenna, let's go to the wharf and look around some more, okay?”
She looked at me. “I can go?”
Her question caught me by surprise. The harm had already been done to her, but from her perspective, she probably still wanted adult guidance. I summoned a smile and nodded. “Of course, Jenna. Have fun.” Although I wondered what fun two dead kids could have as they drifted through the window.
Nana Fae arrived about thirty minutes later with Italian takeout, and we set up in the kitchen. I brought my tablet in, so I could look at my notes, as well as add to them.
Nana had aged very well, in spite of raising me. At almost seventy, she was completely blonde. Her green eyes still sparkled and there were a few more lines around them. She was in great shape, though. All three of the Nanas worked out through Tai Chi and other exercises several times a week. I thought she looked a bit tired, but she brushed it off when I asked.
Thulu and I filled her in on the six victims that we k
new about: Jane, Robin, Jenna, Blake, an elderly Korean man, Seung Kang, and the Hispanic girl, Emily Rodriguez.
Emily had been Jones's first murder victim when he was only fourteen years old. She had been one of the countless runaways, living on the street and supporting herself any way she could, usually with prostitution. Jones had been part of a gang of boys who had raped and beaten her in an alley. The others ran off when they thought they heard someone. Jones remained behind with a knife to Emily's throat.
Emily remembered the knife cutting into her skin and “waking up dead.” She wanted her body found and someone to care that she had been dead for over twenty years.
Mr. Kang had been killed by Jones about a year ago. He had a small gallery that specialized in Oriental art and objects. He'd refused to sell an ancient relic to Jones, explaining that the piece was on loan. Kang wanted the relic found and returned to the rightful owners.
My notes didn't show who the owners might be, but they did show that there was probably more to Kang's story. He had hesitated at several points. My note said, “Missing relic - more info? Trying to remember or trying to decide how much to say?”
Okay, so we had six victims, only one of whom appeared to be from Jones's early years. The rest were from the last year or so. I was sure there were other victims in between. Had they gone on? Or had they just not found me and Thulu? We decided to get more inside info.
I called Blake Dodd, and he appeared before us.
“Blake, what was the joke you made?”
“I just said he had gone soft in his 'old age.'”
Yeah, real funny. “And?”
“He said, 'Oh, really? How's this for soft?' Then he shot me. I was just joking around, you know? I mean I had done good work for him for several years. I thought it was okay to joke around. And I was a bit nervous from what happened earlier.”
“What was that?” This was like pulling teeth. My smile was very strained. “Blake, I need you to focus and tell us everything in the order it happened.”
