by Harper Lin
I remembered that Jake remarked, “Blake should be here. Talbot forced him to take a vacation too, but Blake’s not taking it. He’s still investigating.”
We came out of the spa a little more relaxed. I particularly liked the massage, almost as much as Jake, and would definitely go back. The relaxation period didn’t last long however.
The next day, we spent the afternoon in the cellar of the Brew-Ha-Ha, formulating plans. Bea would research Christopher Thompson’s family records, because if Dolores Thompson’s relation to Murray Willis was important, then maybe we could predict the next link. Jake would keep us informed of the goings-on in the Wonder Falls police department and their investigation. Aunt Astrid would rally all of our Familiars, which meant a lot of meditating with our cats. If the Unfamiliar had its way by the end of the month, she said, then we would have help.
I would build the digital database for all of Aunt Astrid’s dream diaries. The reason for that was obvious to me, even though Aunt Astrid and Bea would never say it—I’d done enough damage.
* * *
A waning half-moon shone over Wonder Falls.
The Wonder Falls police department had insufficient evidence to build any sort of case against Old Murray.
Bea visited Old Murray in the hospital and confirmed that Dolores Thompson used to be Dolores Willis—Old Murray’s sister. She listened with genuine interest to Old Murray’s stories of when he and Topher were young, but he seemed to grow suspicious when Bea asked about the names of their great-grandparents.
Old Murray recovered enough to return to the animal shelter.
Bea then had the bright idea to contact Naomi LaChance. Under the pretense of writing a biography for Thomas Thompson, Bea tried to glean what Naomi knew. Naomi, we knew, was a good friend of Tommy’s.
From those conversations, Bea learned that Tommy had been raised by his grandparents, Dolores Willis-Thompson and Topher Thompson. Tommy had never spoken to Naomi about his mother. Naomi confessed to taking Tommy’s death as personally as she had for one very simple reason—she and Tommy had been secret high school sweethearts. Not even Bea had known.
In short, Bea found out nothing useful, although that nothingness did have edges, and the empty shape formed by those edges, once filled, could be useful.
* * *
A wide waning crescent moon shone over Wonder Falls.
Jake and Blake teamed up once more. Jake told me afterward he’d had to contrive a reason to search Topher’s residence so that he wouldn’t be tempted to talk to Blake about magic. Jake used the excuse of helping his wife research the biography on Tommy, saying that Tommy’s childhood home—Topher’s house—would be a good start.
“That’s a terrible use of our time as law enforcers,” Blake had said, probably with the tactless bluntness he always had.
Jake had ignored him.
In Topher’s cabin in the woods, Jake found the living room furniture all piled against the walls as if they’d been caught in a hurricane. The middle of the living room was clear of furniture, and the floorboards had burn marks of perfect circles and sinister-looking glyphs.
Blake walked around, examining the scene. He told Jake that the burn marks on the floor gave him the creeps because they reminded him of the Order, a group of magicians that had targeted Blake. Blake thought the Order were crazy to believe in magic, and thankfully he still thought that, but he’d seen the way that those without magic talents tried to use the forces of the other world anyway. Geometry like that was one way.
Jake tried to move one of the tables that had been shoved against the wall. It had met the wall with enough force to splinter two of the legs, but it was solid teakwood. Jake had to strain to move it an inch, and Topher was old.
Blake became bored and impatient very quickly. He complained that they should continue to look for a murderer in town, the one who had killed Samantha Perry. Jake couldn’t tell him that they’d found the killer. So they both left.
After Jake told us Greenstones what he’d found, we went to the Thompson residence to erase the burns on the floor. Looking at them gave me a headache. The symbols galvanized the air with meaning: Take a life this night.
I had no doubt that Topher had been in that very room, letting the power of the Unfamiliar burn the wood, and the magic had moved the life force of Old Murray into his dearly departed Dolly.
“This way would have saved him from more dog bites,” I remarked, over the sound of the sanding belt that Bea pressed down upon the panels.
Aunt Astrid nodded. “It could be learning. That is a dangerous Unfamiliar. Our advantage is usually that they don’t know entirely know how our world works.”
I sighed. “This thing needs to be stopped. We better be ready.”
I didn’t add that we didn’t know yet how to stop it.
Trumpson
A slim waning crescent moon shone over Wonder Falls.
Bea and I went to do some grocery shopping at the Park family’s supermarket. We were pulling out the shopping carts when Mrs. Park approached us.
I was happy to see her, and I said as much before asking, “Is Min here?” More apprehensively, I asked. “Is Mr. Park here?”
“No,” Mrs. Park answered. “You shouldn’t be here either. Please leave.”
Bea sounded shocked. “Mrs. Park! What have we done?”
“Not you,” she said to Bea.
“Oh, thanks!” I said, sarcastically. “That’s really nice, with all that’s happening.”
Mrs. Park gave me a look of misery. “Who have you told what Topher told you?”
“He didn’t tell me anything!” I whined. Then I straightened up. “Mrs. Park, what do you think he told me?”
The same fearful look that Mr. Park had had at the asylum showed on Mrs. Park’s face then.
“If it worries you this much, you can trust me!” I said.
“What if I don’t?” Mrs. Park challenged. “Will you handcuff me to the balcony railings and choke me almost to death?”
I flinched. “I’ve learned that… that’s not going to help.”
Mrs. Park set her jaw. “You’re not the kind little girl that I baked cookies for anymore, who didn’t need to be told not to shout and hit people. And this is not your concern.”
I objected, “This is my concern, especially if my family is banned from shopping at your store.”
“Get out, or I will call the police!”
“Mrs. Park, I don’t know what you’re so insecure about, but please do not talk to my cousin like that!” Bea grabbed my arm and led me away. “Come on, we’ll shop at the farmer’s market with Mom. Vegan, gluten-free, organic everything.”
“Nooo!” I lunged away from her and collapsed in front of Mrs. Park, grasping at the hem of her apron. “Don’t let her take me to that place, Mrs. Park!”
Bea pouted. “It’s not that bad! Jake loves the meatloaf I make from the farmer’s vegan ground beef!”
Both Mrs. Park and I gave Bea a look of confusion.
“From vegan cows,” Bea explained. “The cows are vegan. It’s a joke Mom and I… look, never mind! What’s all this even about?”
“You really don’t know?” Mrs. Park said to Bea, then she looked at me and her expression softened—more than softened but melted, or seemed to because she began to cry. She let out a sniffling sob, pulled her apron hem out of my clutches, and tottered away.
Bea sighed. “That could have gone better. Are you all right, Cath?”
I stood slowly, gathering my thoughts. “Topher’s Alice.” I turned to Bea. “Topher kept picking on Min for what he ‘did to my Alice,’ but of course we didn’t know any Alice Thompson in school.”
Bea shook her head. “Topher’s demented.”
“No, demented means that you forget. What if he’s remembering too much instead? We know that Dolly’s real and Tommy’s real. We should look for Alice.”
* * *
The moon did not shine over Wonder Falls. It had blanketed itself compl
etely in the earth’s shadow.
As driven as Blake Samberg could be about an unsolved case, he could be easily distracted by petty crimes. Everyone at the Wonder Falls police department understood when Jake, who was supposed to be Blake’s partner, threw his hands up in surrender and walked away—just to leave Blake to it. Jake used that time to search the Wonder Falls census. Bea spent her days at the library, searching the obituaries of the Wonder Falls newspaper.
I finished making the database of Aunt Astrid’s dreams and thought that I would check up on the animals at the shelter.
* * *
When I arrived, Blake, Cody, and Old Murray were putting pet carriers into a van out front.
Cody saw me first and called, “Miss Greenstone! Good time to volunteer today!”
He didn’t hate me then, for scaring Burger or getting his grandfather arrested. That was a nice change. I waved as I approached them. “How are you holding up, Murray?”
“Cath,” Old Murray nodded, “it’s been a while. I don’t remember what happened at the show. I’m afraid my mind’s going.”
“You’re looking well today,” I offered, trying to comfort him. When he didn’t look comforted, I added, “I can take care of myself. You’ve just got to find somebody to take care of you.”
Cody piped up, “Hi!”
“Naw,” Old Murray said. “You can’t live your life for me, Cody. You’ve got your own to live. The old folks’ home ain’t so bad—”
Blake scoffed. “The Wonder Falls old folks’ home is worse than most prisons.” He moved to the front of the van, opened the passenger side door, and whistled. Burger bounded over and hopped into the passenger seat.
“I meant the idea,” Old Murray muttered.
“Is that where you’re taking all the animals?” I asked. “To the old folks’ home? I’m confused.”
Blake buckled the seat belt over Burger. The dog nudged Blake’s forehead with his nose, making Blake flinch and back away.
“It was the Park boy’s idea,” Old Murray said. “Pets that nobody wants meet with people that nobody wants.”
“Come with us,” Cody said to me. “We could use an extra hand.”
I spent the drive there talking with the animals. Most of them didn’t want to share their lives with humans. They weren’t hostile to the idea, because the Willises didn’t include any animals that they knew were wilder than Treacle. Still, the animals didn’t want human company so much as trustworthy company at all. Even among animals, that sort of company was more difficult to come by. Burger spent all of his life being looked after by a human. He might have needed human company and attention, but he didn’t want one—because what if nobody really could replace Samantha?
We arrived at the old folks’ home. From the outside, it looked charming, all red brick walls covered in ivy and an arch over the gate with wrought-iron letters that spelled HELL IN. We unloaded the crates, brought them into the courtyard with great care, and waited. Code and Murray went inside.
I turned to Blake. “It’s good that you’re taking time away from the case to volunteer like this.”
He looked at me so suspiciously that I almost laughed.
“I’m just saying!” I said. “Justice is very important, don’t get me wrong, but when there’s something wrong in the world that doesn’t have a perpetrator, then it’s too easy to forget about the victims. It’s great to help this way, don’t you agree?”
“No,” he said. “This is the key to the case.”
I sighed. “Okay, Blake, I take it all back. This was a bad idea, and you need more sleep.”
“Didn’t you read the sign on the way in?” Blake pointed toward the entrance.
I shrugged and read it aloud. “‘Hell In.’ Not a cheerful name for this place.”
“Why are you only reading the letters that are still there?”
“Because,” I answered slowly, “it’s what’s there?”
“Read the letters that rusted at the edges and fell off,” Blake said. “Look! It’s so obvious!”
“Obvious? I didn’t study forensics in Boston.”
“It says THE SHELLEY MARINA FOUNDATION,” Blake said.
“Shelley Marina…” I gasped. “The name on the gravestone! The other body I found!” As quickly as it peaked, the feeling of epiphany plummeted to apathy. “So?”
“She was a philanthropist, just like Min Park,” Blake said. “Some loophole in inheritance laws meant that her daughter, Rosemary, couldn’t inherit after she married Basil Trumpson. Their ashes were scattered over the falls. The grave robber must have thought that the family treasure was buried with Shelley. We have a motive. Now I just have to find the means…”
Out the corner of my eye, I saw Min Park emerge from the home.
“Who did you say Rosemary Marina married?” I asked Blake.
“Basil Trumpson.”
Then the idea hit me like a lightning bolt. “You mean Thompson. Basil Thompson. I remember that name in my research. Basil and Rosemary Thompson were cremated. They’re the missing link!”
“Thompson must’ve looked like Trumpson in the old record books. They’re ancient and falling apart.” Blake shrugged. “Either way, I’m a genius.”
I hugged him and said, gleeful again with epiphany, “No, you’re not! The grave robbery attempt is the worst idea you’ve ever spoken out loud to me, and I’ve heard hundreds by now! You should get more sleep!”
“Now my feelings hurt.” Blake frowned. “You’re wrong. I won’t sleep until I prove it.”
I pulled away from him and ran toward the gate, calling behind me, “Then tell the Willises I had a family emergency! Say hello to Min for me!”
Next in Line
A slim waxing crescent moon shone over Wonder Falls.
In the cellar of the Brew-Ha-Ha, Aunt Astrid, Bea, Jake, and I met to compare notes. I’d bought a large whiteboard and was struggling to open a pack of markers.
“We found Alice,” Jake said.
Bea pulled out a photocopy of a newspaper obituary. “Topher and Dolly’s daughter. Tommy’s mother. Died in childbirth at the age of sixteen.”
Jake added, “Of course she was unmarried. The identity of Tommy’s father remains a mystery though.”
I said, “People around here must’ve known who she was. I suppose we could’ve easily asked around.”
“Hmm,” Astrid said, looking as though she was trying to remember Alice. “I didn’t know the Thompsons well then. Maybe I saw her around and I just didn’t pay attention. I certainly didn’t hear about her death.”
“They probably didn’t want to announce it,” I said. “Kept it hush-hush. She did give birth out of wedlock. To Topher and Dolores, that must’ve been scandalous.”
“We think she’ll be the next to rise from her grave,” Bea finished.
Aunt Astrid pondered that. “That’s Topher’s motive, isn’t it? He doesn’t want to be alone anymore, having outlived his whole family.”
“He’s not so careful about not outliving his friends,” I said sadly, remembering Old Murray. That wasn’t fair of me to say though. The Unfamiliar had made Topher desperate. At last, I got the markers out of their package and got one uncapped. “Let’s go over what we know.” I scribbled a word on the whiteboard, near the top: Resurrection. “That’s what this Unfamiliar always does, because that’s what Topher wants to do. The cost for a life is a life. Two full moons ago, for Shelley Marina”—I wrote her name under Resurrection then drew a sideways arrow—“the cost was Samantha.” I wrote Samantha Perry next to the arrow. Beside that, I drew an equal sign and the word FAILED.
“They had no blood relation,” Bea said. “In a town this small, it’s unlikely to not have any blood relation. Samantha was a fairly new resident and didn’t grow up here at all.”
“The sacrifice for a resurrection,” Jake offered, “won’t be a random unlucky person again.”
I nodded. “They’ll still be awfully unlucky, but whoever it is will be more car
efully chosen. Not only that, but who is resurrected will be carefully chosen.” Shelley Marina’s only descendant was Rosemary Marina. Below the previous line, I drew a question mark and the names Rosemary Marina Thompson and Basil Thompson. “Rosemary and Basil were cremated and their ashes scattered over the falls. Why didn’t we have ash golems wandering around town in the last full moon?”
Bea riffled through Jake’s report. “No living relations on the Marina side still reside in Wonder Falls. Rosemary Marina’s father was apparently an Italian celebrity who never set foot in the Americas, or so Shelley said. The townsfolk believed her. Rosemary grew up in unstigmatized illegitimacy.”
“In this town?” The disbelief in my tone made the question rhetorical. “Now I’m really sorry to have missed the good old days!”
Aunt Astrid suggested, “It might be because the ashes were washed outside of the Wonder Falls boundaries.”
Bea explained to Jake, “The Maid of the Mist claimed the land on which this town was built. Anything beyond that boundary that comes in gets checked or interfered with by the Familiars, same as anything from inside the boundary going out. Anything within is the responsibility of witches to police.”
“Then why don’t the Familiars stop the Unfamiliars before the Unfamiliars do anything?” Jake wondered.
We all had our own answers that we said at almost the same time.
“Familiars and Unfamiliars are only our words for them,” I said. “We don’t know which one they are until they do something good or bad, and even then we don’t know until the next time they decide to do anything.”
