Tallow Jones: Wizard Detective (The Tallow Novels Book 1)

by Trevor H. Cooley

  “Wait,” said Aarin, her cheerfulness slipping. “Go back now?”

  “Sure,” Tallow replied. “Besides, I would like to take a better look at the crime scene at the Roberts’ house and it’s just across the street.”

  “You do?” Ross said. “We’ve got the evidence that our team brought back already.”

  Tallow gave him an allowing nod. “True but, as you know, I have my own methods for gathering evidence. I need to see the place in person.”

  Ross pursed his lips. “’Course you do.”

  “Actually, I think Tallow’s idea is a good one,” said Douglas. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us today. Best if we get this out of the way and get the girls home.”

  Aarin cleared her throat. “L-look, I don’t need to go back home just yet. You can just drop us off at your house. I’ll be fine for a while.”

  “Girl, you’re wearing PJs and zombie slippers,” Ross said and gestured at the garish slippers she wore. They looked like two plush zombie heads eating her feet.

  Douglas placed a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure it’s safe. Officer Chuck’s already called dispatch and sent an officer on the way to check the place out.”

  “While y’all are gone, I’ll head over and talk to forensics and see what they’ve found,” Ross said. “You can call me when you get to the Roberts’ and we can compare notes."

  “Alright, but before we go, Aarin, I want you to call your parents and make sure they’re okay with our plan,” Douglas said.

  “I’m 18 now,” she said with a frown. “They can’t stop me.”

  “Don’t matter how old you are,” Ross told her. “You’re living at home. They need to know where you are.”

  Aarin sighed. “It’s just . . . they don’t believe me. About what I’ve seen. They think I’m crazy.”

  “Then don’t mention that part,” said Tallow with a shrug. “This is just a job change.”

  She scratched her head. “I guess that would be okay.”

  They waited while Aarin called her mother at work and told her about the arrangement. Mrs. Burkes was confused at first, but she warmed up to the idea quickly. She had never been all that enamored with Aarin’s job at the mall anyway. A nanny position was a move up as far as she was concerned and it didn’t hurt that it was getting Aarin out of the house.

  Douglas and Tallow sat in the front seat and the girls sat in the back. It was almost ten o’clock when they left the station, way past rush hour. But this was Atlanta and traffic was never light during the day.

  While he drove it became increasingly obvious to Douglas that Agatha was intimidated by the idea of having another girl in the house. Even if it was only temporary. Her face was stuck in a perpetual pout and she wasn’t bothering to knit. She just sat there with her little rock cozy in her hands occasionally asking pointed questions.

  “Do you really have to call her my nanny?” Agatha grumbled. “It makes me sound like a baby.”

  “Isn’t it better than calling her a babysitter?” Tallow observed.

  “No. A babysitter watches you when your parents aren’t home. A nanny bathes you and changes your diapers.” She pouted. “How about we just call her, ‘a friend of the family?’”

  “I’m your nanny, kid. Deal with it,” said Aarin with a teasing smile.

  Agatha ignored her and questioned her father, “Where’s she gonna sleep? You’re not putting her in Asher’s room, are you?”

  “I don’t think he’d mind. Do you?” Douglas asked. There wasn’t much of a choice. It was a three bedroom house. The only other room was the storage room above the garage and it was full of boxes and assorted junk.

  “But . . . It’s Asher’s,” Agatha said. “He doesn’t like people messing with his stuff.”

  “Um,” Aarin said. “I can take a couch. No problem.”

  “We’ll figure it out later tonight,” Douglas said.

  They drove in silence for a while, Tallow whistling tunelessly while Agatha pulled her knitting back out. As they neared Aarin’s neighborhood, the teenager became visibly agitated. She chewed her bottom lip and gazed out the window worriedly.

  “You’re freaked out,” Agatha observed.

  Aarin grunted, still looking out the window. “Hmm? What?”

  “You’re scared,” Agatha said. “You got those fear sweats that Uncle Tallow talked about last time.”

  “It’s just hot . . . outside,” Aarin said lamely. Douglas had kept the AC cranked to full blast and at the moment the temperature was edging into chilly.

  “There’s no need to tease her, Aggie,” Tallow chided. “She had quite a frightening experience this morning.”

  “Ooh, was it that secretary lady again?” Agatha asked and Douglas winced at the accuracy of her guess. He had hoped that she hadn’t been so focused on Aarin’s tale that night at the mall. He didn’t need Agatha getting scared as well.

  “It’s alright. I’m not scared anymore,” Aarin said, but her face was white when they came to a stop in front of her house.

  There was a police car parked outside her house. An officer was standing on the porch, talking into the radio on his shoulder. He walked towards their car when he saw them pull up. He was tall, perhaps in his mid-thirties, and well-muscled. Many of the current generation of officers were like that. It had become a social thing. They met after their shifts to work out. Ross called them, ‘The dumbbell division.’

  Douglas looked back at the girls. “You stay here while I chat with the officer.”

  “I’ll take a look around for myself, if you don’t mind,” Tallow said and exited the car, cane in hand.

  Douglas got out of the car and pulled out his badge as he approached the policeman. He showed it to the man and looked at his nametag. “Officer . . . Clayton? I’m Detective Jones. I’m here with the young lady who called in the report.”

  The officer nodded and shook his hand. “You’re one of those FIU guys, right? Tell me. What’s it like living in the Hutt’s shadow?”

  Douglas’ smile slid a bit. He hadn’t been aware that Ross’ nickname for the chief had travelled so deep into the department. “She’s not so bad to work for.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say,” said Clayton with a shrug. He looked back towards the house. “Well, I’ve looked around the property. I didn’t see anybody lurking and all the doors seem to be secured.”

  “That’s good,” Douglas told him. Tallow walked around the perimeter of the house, his cane held out in front of him. Clayton watched him with curious eyes and Douglas added, “That’s my, uh, partner. Look, I need to head across the street and check on the crime scene there. Would you mind escorting these two young ladies inside? One of them is the one who called in the stalker. She needs to retrieve some things and they are scared to be left alone.”

  “Sure thing,” Officer Clayton said. “I bet it was frightening. Especially after that murder yesterday.”

  “Right,” Douglas said.

  He walked back to the car. No sooner had he cracked the door open than Aarin blurted out, “Did he see her? Is she here?”

  “No. The coast is clear.” He looked back towards the house and saw his uncle walking back towards them. Tallow nodded his assurance that no one was lurking and Douglas motioned the girls outside. “Come on. Officer Clayton is going to escort the two of you into the house so that Aarin can get her things together while Tallow and I head across the street.”

  “You’re leaving us?” Aarin said as she got out of the car, though she took some comfort in the uniformed officer that was standing on the sidewalk giving her a reassuring smile.

  “It shouldn’t take long,” Tallow assured her. “We just need to check a few things.”

  “Don’t worry. He looks buff enough,” Agatha said approvingly and the two girls walked with Officer Clayton up to the porch.

  “You see anything?” Douglas asked his uncle.

  Tallow watched the girls enter Aarin’s house, his gaze pensive. �
��I didn’t see any traces of magic and I couldn’t detect anyone nearby. But there were footprints in the dirt next to the house. I took a picture with my phone. High heels if you can believe it.”

  “Who goes to harass a teenager in high heels?” Douglass wondered. “Maybe she wasn’t trying to threaten Aarin. Maybe she wanted to give her a message. Maybe she has information that could help our case.”

  Tallow shook his head. “And just grin creepily, saying nothing? I doubt it. Come on. Let’s head over to the Roberts. I have a theory I want to check.”

  Chapter 17: Untangling Cases

  Douglas shut the front door behind him and did his best to breathe through his mouth. It was only a day after the murder and the body had long ago been taken to the medical examiner. Nevertheless, the interior of the house stank of death.

  The copious amounts of blood scattered about the lower floor during Mister Robert’s murder had dried. The stains in the carpet were now a dark shade of purple and the pools of blood on the linoleum in the kitchen had congealed and separated, leaving most of it more black than red.

  The forensics team had photographed the area thoroughly and taken all evidence that they felt was relevant to the murder and yet Tallow was certain that something had been missed. Douglas tried to keep in mind what that could be as he walked around the living room to the back of the house. The back door was on the far side of the dining room area and Douglas thumbed through a few piles of junk mail on the table until he heard a knock.

  He opened the back door to let Tallow in. “You find what you were looking for back there?”

  “Yes and no,” Tallow said, his expression frustrated. “I had hoped to find evidence of magical tampering with the rear door lock. When I was last here I didn’t get the chance to inspect it closely.”

  “You were thinking that other wizard that set up the traps at the travel agency was involved?” Douglas asked.

  “It would have explained how Roberts’ murderer got out of the house,” Tallow said with a sigh. “But no. I found no evidence of any elemental magic being used in this house besides my own. So the murderer’s escape remains a mystery. I did, however find this. It was at the back of the house. Just under that small second story window.”

  Tallow raised his phone and showed Douglas a photo of a patch of dirt. Two very clear impressions were centered in the frame. One was triangular and a couple inches behind it, a round hole.

  “High heels again,” Douglas said. He pulled out his own phone. “Send it to me so that I can forward it to forensics. They may have already seen it but we should be sure.”

  Tallow nodded. “I’ll send you the set of prints outside Aarin’s house as well.”

  He did so and Douglas forwarded them on to Ross. “So we know that grinning receptionist was here in the back yard. Do you think she killed Roberts?”

  “Could be. Or maybe she was simply walking around the place, checking it out.” Tallow shut the door behind himself and walked into the dining room area. He looked at all the papers and letters littering the table and moved a couple pizza boxes aside to get a better look at them, his eyes searching. “In any case, we should keep her in mind while we look the place over. The evidence should tell us if she could have done it.”

  Douglas joined him at the table. “Just junk mail and old bills. He didn’t even open any of this.”

  Tallow grunted and nodded. “Yeah.” He glanced around. “Don’t see a landline phone in here. Did he have a cell on him?”

  “I’m not sure,” Douglas said.

  “Do you know where the attack began?” Tallow asked.

  “I think so,” said Douglas and he walked out of the dining room and past the staircase that led upstairs to the living room. He pointed to the place where the trail of blood began in front of the couch.

  Tallow glanced around. “By all the discarded liquor bottles and fast food bags, I’d say Roberts spent the majority of his time here. In front of his TV.” He gestured at the blanket wadded in the corner of the couch. “Might have even slept here when his daughter didn’t make him go up to bed.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Douglas agreed.

  “Wonder why forensics didn’t take that blanket with them,” Tallow said.

  “They may be back for it. It’s still early in the investigation,” Douglas said. “They might take all the couch cushions too if they think there’s trace evidence to be found.”

  Tallow reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a couple latex gloves.

  “You carry those with you?” Douglas asked.

  “Don’t you?” Tallow replied.

  It was a good point. Douglas always kept a pair of gloves on him as well as a basic evidence collection kit. So did Ross. You never knew when it would be needed.

  Tallow hooked the handle of his cane over his forearm while he pulled the gloves on, then looked behind a few cushions and pulled out the handset of a cordless phone. “Here it is. Cops these days never check for anything besides cells. I thought your people were thorough.” He thumbed a button on it, then shrugged. “Dead.”

  “They probably saw it and didn’t bother. They’ve undoubtedly pulled his phone history.” Douglas pulled an evidence bag out of his inner pocket. “Still, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to check fingerprints just to be sure.”

  Tallow dropped the phone into the bag, his eyes scanning the room. “I don’t see the base unit that this belongs to. Anyway, you may be right that this handset isn’t important. Let’s see if we can puzzle out what happened here.”

  Douglas’ uncle pointed his cane at the blood stains on the floor and then slowly raised it, moving it over the couch. His eyes were narrowed as they followed the path of his cane.

  “What are you doing?” Douglas wondered.

  “Probing. Sending out magical energies. Looking for minute traces of blood. I can penetrate the surface of things a bit, see patterns of impressions left on things. You know, I might have been harsh about your forensics team. I think they vacuumed the surface of all these cushions. Probably looking for hairs.” He aimed the staff at the point where the wall met the ceiling just above the couch. “See that faint spray of blood up there?”

  “Uh, yes,” Douglas said, squinting. The place was dirty enough that it could have easily been mistaken for a bit of cobweb.

  “I think that’s from the first blow,” Tallow said. He bit his lip briefly, then nodded. “Here’s what I think happened. From the last impressions that our victim left in the couch cushions, Roberts was lying on the couch here when the killer approached him. He stood quickly. Then that first attack came. For blood splatter to hit that far up the wall at that angle . . . Perhaps a backhand slice with a blade of some sort.” Tallow stepped back and slashed upwards diagonally with his cane from left to right to demonstrate the motion. “The cut had to have been deep for him to bleed onto the floor right here.”

  Douglas blinked. “If that’s true then I don’t think Roberts let his murderer in.”

  “Good point,” said Tallow. “If he let his attacker in, why would he go lie down on the couch?”

  “Maybe if they were someone he trusted?” Douglas suggested. “Maybe if he was so drunk he was just out of it?”

  Tallow shook his head. “I don’t think so. In fact, I don’t believe Roberts was drunk at all.”

  “Why do you say that?” Douglas wondered.

  “Because when I first came in here yesterday, I could smell blood and urine in the air, but no alcohol. My magic doesn’t show any traces of it in the blood stains either. Some of it may have evaporated from the splatter, but I’m betting that your forensics team will verify that he was sober.” Tallow explained.

  Douglas cocked his head. “Why urine?”

  “I imagine the victim peed himself. Likely out of fear,” Tallow said with a shrug. “That or one of the attacks pierced his bladder.”

  Douglas winced at the gruesome thought. “So if he wasn’t drunk, he was probably asleep or watching TV when th
e intruder came in. That still leaves the question of how the intruder left when all the doors were locked and deadbolted and the windows were latched, except that tiny window on the second floor.”

  “Perhaps the intruder had keys to the door handle locks and deadbolts and locked up afterwards. Roberts could have given them a set,” Tallow said, but by the look on his face he didn’t like that theory. He snapped his fingers. “Polly! Of course.”

  Douglas frowned. “You think she had something to do with this?”

  “Not directly. Of course not. But when Polly went missing she would have had her keys on her. Assuming that those who abducted her are also behind the murder, they could have had her keys,” Tallow explained excitedly.

  “Oh,” Douglas said, but his elation at the explanation was tempered by the irritating fact that he hadn’t thought of it himself.

  Tallow walked slowly away from the couch, following the blood trail and noting a few other small traces of blood spatter, one on a side table and one on the ceiling. “No blood directly in front of the door.”

  “His attacker was right behind him. He would have known the door was deadbolted,” Douglas posited. “Why get yourself pinned? He ran past it into the open kitchen.”

  Tallow nodded. “Perhaps he was going for a knife.”

  The wizard pointed at the far side of the kitchen where a drawer was slightly open, dried blood on the handle. He went back around the living room and through the dining room to get a better view of the far side of the island where the body had been found. He moved onto a bare patch of linoleum in the center of the kitchen and stood there for a moment, pointing his cane around while mumbling to himself.

  Douglas couldn’t see what Tallow was doing with his magic, but the copious amounts of blood in the kitchen told enough of the story for his detective training. “This was a wild attack. Frenzied. I don’t get it. This doesn’t feel like a hit. If the murderer was sent by the people who kidnapped Polly, wouldn’t they be more professional about it? A gunshot to the head or a stab through the heart? This attack feels more like it was done by someone with a grudge against the victim.”