by Esme Addison
After the call ended, Alex went back to the mural Neve had painted in Boston. It was a picture of Poseidon holding his infamous trident in the Mystic River—an odd place for a god of the sea to be. The Tobin Bridge was behind him. A man fished off a pier while a woman sat on a bench, reading a newspaper. Another man gazed at a tall public clock, on a black post, that had Roman numerals. The painting was so detailed that you could see the direction the hands were pointing. The colors were bright and the painting style realistic, as if Poseidon himself was flesh and blood instead of a creation of myth.
Alex clicked on the painting from Honolulu. The Japanese sea god, Watatsumi stood at the helm of a naval ship, with the sleek body of a young fit man, and the head of dragon. His chest was bare, and his arms were covered in kanji tattoos. He held several bright jewels in his hand while sailors could be seen on the deck, involved in various tasks running the ship. One was reading a newspaper, and another looked at his watch.
Alex went back to the mermaid painting. Unlike Neve’s other paintings, it lacked the hallmarks of her work: someone reading a newspaper and someone looking at a clock.
Her phone chimed with an incoming text. It was Kamila. Her message said there might be security footage of the parking lot from the traffic light by the entrance. But, first, it would be difficult to get a look at it, and second, Alex better not tell anyone she was doing it, and third, Kamila loved her. Smiling, Alex placed the phone on the bed beside her.
A moment later she turned back to her screen, but her mind had turned to pudding. Frustrated with her efforts, Alex closed her laptop, when her phone rang again. It was Evelyn.
“I’ve been going through Chris’s e-mails, and I found something you need to see. Let’s meet at the coffee shop on Main.”
“Sure,” Alex agreed. “I’ll see you soon.”
Ten minutes later, Alex was enjoying an iced matcha latte in the back of the coffee shop. She assumed Evelyn wanted privacy, so she’d sit at the most private table she could find. Alex leaned forward when she was settled. “You have something to tell me?”
“Yes. I think I mentioned that whistleblowers contacted Chris?” Alex nodded. “I’m getting a better idea of what he did now, and he was privy to some really amazing information. I also discovered in those e-mails that in order for him to receive some information, he had to agree to post fake information.”
“Why would he have to do that?”
“As explained in the e-mails, they wanted to make it harder for readers to know what was real and what was not. By giving Chris made-up stories along with the real ones, the revelations were hiding in plain sight.”
“As a practice that’s called disinformation,” Alex commented. “Okay. I guess that makes a kind of sense. So, what you have to share with me is … what? Real or fake?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that. I did a search for more e-mails from Neve and hit the jackpot. She sent Chris a list of several weapons of the gods—what they do or, rather, how they can be converted to modern functions.”
“What do you mean?”
She retrieved a small notebook from her purse and found a page of notes. “Well, take Thor’s hammer, for example. It was apparently ‘found’”—she used air quotes—“in St. Cloud, Minnesota, hidden in the Sauk River. Uses include manufacturing earthquakes, leveling great swaths of the earth, manipulating the weather and generating storms, creating universal sound baths—not sure what that is—and of course destroying anything it happened to smash into. Unfortunately, the hammer is useless without a pair of gloves that Thor used to activate the hammer. The search is still on for them. Ostensibly, the hammer had a wireless technology that matched with a GPS signal in the gloves that created the boomerang effect.”
“Obviously, that’s fake news. Thor didn’t really exist.” Alex laughed. “I’ve seen the movies, and I know who Thor is and how his infamous hammer works … but that’s just made up. Foreign governments are not bidding on a mythological weapon.”
Evelyn looked perplexed. “That’s what I thought. But Neve also sent a list of potential customers for Thor’s hammer, even without the glove, or gauntlet as it’s known. Governments in Iran, North Korea, China, Russia. She wrote that it can be used in construction, demolition. Meteorology. This is government use. It’s crazy stuff. There’s a list like this for five different mythological items.”
“If what you say is true, then most of this stuff is made up. I know what’s going on.”
“You do?”
“The mermaid gene is the real story, and this mythological weapon story is the disinformation. I mean, we know the gene has been discovered, and companies are working on it. But if you posted both of these items, your readers would be really hard pressed to figure out which one was real, if they didn’t reject them both outright.”
“Right.” Evelyn’s eyes teared up. “And this is why Chris was murdered. Because he put these ridiculous items on his blog.” She picked up her coffee mug and stared into its depths. “I was really surprised when I got your text telling me you’d help me. You’re the only person in this town who believes me. Any progress?”
“Nothing specific, but I did talk to your husband’s boss.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up. “You did?” She gulped. “What did he say? Anything helpful?”
“Just that Chris didn’t stay late in the evenings or come in on Saturdays like you said.” She winced at the expression on the woman’s face. “I mean, if he wasn’t at work, where was he? What was he doing?”
Evelyn shook her head. “I don’t like what you’re implying.”
“I don’t even know what I’m saying, okay? But I do think that if I can figure out what he was up to during that time, it may lead me to find out who really killed him.”
“You think whoever he was meeting killed him.”
Alex shrugged. “Maybe.”
“How will you figure it out?”
“It’s a long shot, but I’m trying to get a look at the security footage from the parking lot where Chris parked.”
“The detective told me the camera was at the wrong angle, and it didn’t see anything.”
“There might be more footage. We’ll see.”
“From where? From whom?”
“I don’t know all of the details.” Alex regretted telling Evelyn any of this. The last thing she wanted to do was get Kamila in trouble. No matter how grateful Evelyn might be for the footage, she might accidentally tell someone how it had been obtained. Better to shut the conversation down now. She leaned forward. “Are you okay? Do you have family around here you can talk to if you need to?”
She shook her head. “My family’s in Florida. His family is nearby, but we’re not close. It’s fine. I’ve been talking to a counselor, which helps with the grief. But not with the fact that everyone thinks he did this to himself.” She choked back a sob.
“Just imagine the day when everyone knows the truth. It’s coming and soon.”
Evelyn smiled at her. “Thanks for that.” She grabbed a napkin and blotted her face. “I better get going. I hope what I’ve told you is helpful.” She left, and Alex watched her go, wondering what her next step should be.
As Alex backed out of the parking lot, she thought about the facts of the case—both cases. Seeing that Main Street was clogged with evening construction, she turned down an alley between the historic buildings and slowed when a cat darted across the street. Someone had killed both Neve and Chris Robinson. There couldn’t be two killers in Bellamy Bay. It made sense that there was only one. Jasper didn’t have a reason to kill both Neve and Chris. She stopped at a red light and was about to turn, her mind still whirling with possibilities. Who had the motive to kill them both? Montgomery? Or how about—
Crash!
The sound of metal filled Alex’s ears, as her body was propelled forward. Frantically, she glanced at her rearview mirror and saw a white SUV behind her. It had hit her once and was backing up to slam her again.
Smash!
She was hit again. And this time the steering wheel was spinning in her hands, the tires skidding out of control.
And Alex was rushing headlong into oncoming traffic.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Hands gripping the steering wheel, and foot pressed on the brake, Alex held tight, trying to right the car, but it completed several 360s, ending up in the opposite direction before it stopped.
And everything inside the car was tossed around. Including Alex. She felt dizzy and her hands trembled as they clung to the steering wheel. There was loud honking and the screech of slamming breaks as several cars driving toward her swerved in the opposite lane, barely missing her. Adrenaline ricocheting in her chest, Alex looked over her shoulder and saw the SUV was still behind her. She pressed the gas pedal to the floor and moved to the side of the street while the SUV sped away from her.
What just happened?
Taking deep breaths, she willed her heart to stop racing and found her phone on the passenger side floor. She began to dial Kamila’s number, then stopped. Jack wanted her to call him, but she didn’t want him to know she’d gotten herself in trouble. No—no way she was calling him. She dialed her cousin and waited. The call went straight to voicemail. Tears of frustration crowded her eyes, and her heart still pounded. She waited a moment. Kamila did not return the call.
She dialed Jack’s number but hesitated before she hit “Send.” He would be angry, accuse her of meddling in the case. Well, she had been. She stared at the phone. Waiting. Hoping. Kamila didn’t call back.
Sighing, she hit “Send.”
With Minka’s car being towed, Jack drove Alex home.
Her entire body ached. She was really going to feel it in the morning.
When Jack pulled into the driveway of her home, he turned the ignition off. He had been angry when he took the call and realized Alex had placed herself in danger again. And angrier when he saw the damage to Minka’s car—clearly the driver had been going fast, and it was a wonder Alex hadn’t gotten hurt. The only thing he’d said to her was “Thank you for calling me,” and that was through clenched teeth. And then there were ten minutes of silence as he drove her home.
“Let’s try this again,” he said, his voice straining with the effort not to sound upset. “Where were you coming from?”
“The coffee shop.”
“Who were you meeting?”
Alex hesitated. She didn’t want to lie, but she also didn’t want to tell him it was Evelyn Robinson. She bit her lip and looked out the window.
“You know, someone is trying to warn you off whatever it is you’re doing. Is there something I should know?”
She looked at him, knowing that his anger masked concern. She reached for his hand. “I’m sorry I’ve worried you.” She shifted in her seat and winced in pain.
Alarmed at her discomfort, Jack leaned toward her, touching her face. “Are you okay? I can still take you to the ER.”
“No, I’m fine. I just need some aspirin and a good night’s rest. Why don’t you come in? I’ll make you some coffee, feed you …” She was embarrassed to say the incident had frightened her, and she wasn’t quite ready for Jack to leave her.
Jack stared at the brightly lit house, warm gold light streamed from behind the curtained windows. “I’m not your aunt’s favorite person.”
“She’s forgiven you for arresting her—you know that.”
He glanced at the time display on his dashboard. “Before you called, I was in the middle of something. Unfortunately, I need to get back to it.”
Alex stared at him. She wanted to ask him what was more important than her right now, but she couldn’t get those particular words out. They sounded weak. Needy. She forced a smile. “You’re on a stakeout or something?”
“I’m working.” He kissed her on the cheek.
“The big party at the lighthouse is in two days. Will you be working then too?”
“Yeah.” He shot her a rueful look. “But I really wish I could come. I hear it’s kind of spectacular.”
* * *
When Jack was gone, Alex opened the front door and was greeted by Athena, who stood up on her hind legs to welcome her. “Hey, girl, I missed you,” she murmured into the fur of her neck.
Alex followed the sounds and found her aunt and both cousins munching on large bowls of buttered popcorn and watching a movie.
“I fed Athena and took her out,” Minka said, her eyes glued to the screen. She turned to Alex and paused the television show when she saw her face. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone hit the car, with me in it and on purpose.” She looked at Minka. “Sorry. I’ll take care of the damages. It was towed to the Wesley Auto Repair shop in town.”
Minka shrugged. “You know I could care less about that car.”
Kamila stood. “Jack took a report?”
Lidia joined them. “Are you hurt?”
“Jack took down the details for all the good it will do. The windows were tinted, the make generic, and I was too panicked to notice the license plate.” Alex turned to her aunt. “And I’m fine.” She tried to smile through the pain she was feeling in her shoulders and back.
“No stickers or decals on the vehicle?” Kamila continued. Alex shook her head. “Well, they’ll have front-end damage to their vehicle, with Minka’s car paint all over it. I’m sure Jack will notify repair shops in the area to be on the lookout.” She put an arm around her. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Shaken up but fine.”
Lidia frowned but nodded. “I know exactly what you need. I’ll start your bath with a strong blend of arnica and helichrysum in Epsom salts for any aches you may have or get in the morning.”
After her bath and a glass of tea that Lidia had placed by her bedside, Alex felt a wave of fatigue wash over her. She was exhausted—but more determined than ever to find out who killed Neve and Chris. They were the same person, she was certain of it. And that same person had tried to scare her tonight. But she wouldn’t be intimidated. She had been concerned for her family’s safety because the killer knew who she was. But Aunt Lidia assured her that the protective spell she’d placed over the house and land would keep them safe.
Curled under her covers, she searched her phone for the photographs of Neve’s murals, flipping through the three images from Honolulu, Boston, and St. Cloud. The similarities being the man and the watch, and the man with the newspaper. There’d been an emergency at each location … It was such an odd coincidence, it had to mean something. But there hadn’t been an emergency in Bellamy Bay, and there wasn’t a newspaper or clock in the mermaid mural. What did that mean?
* * *
The next morning, Alex woke up with sunlight streaming through the cracks in her curtains. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes, stretched, and sat up. She’d gone to bed thinking about Neve’s paintings, and she’d woken up thinking about them. Her dreams suddenly came to her: images of flying newspapers and clocks had rained down her as she’d walked on the beach. And then it came to her. The newspaper. The clock. Pepper’s intern had been on to something. She looked at the clock on her phone. Was it too early to text Pepper on a Sunday? It was seven thirty.
She sent Pepper a text, hoping she had her notifications turned off and would receive it when she woke up. Less than a second later, Pepper responded with the emoticon of a cup of coffee looking sleepy and holding a smaller cup of coffee. Great—she was up. Alex texted what she needed, and hoped Pepper had quick access to it.
She wandered downstairs and into the kitchen for coffee. Aunt Lidia was always up by five thirty and by now had probably made two pots of coffee. The aromatic scent of coffee beans wafted through the house, and she followed the smell to the counter, where she grabbed the biggest mug she could find and filled it up, topping it off with half and half. The house was quiet when she went back upstairs and to her room. She checked her phone and saw that Pepper had sent the information she needed to her e-mail address.
She opened her laptop, sat on her bed, and sipped her coffee as she waited for her e-mail account to load. She found Pepper’s e-mail and clicked on the attachment, then compared the information to the pictures of Neve’s murals.
Unbelievable.
She checked again to make sure she wasn’t mistaken. But no, the dates and times matched. Alex sat up, drinking her coffee. In every single image, the date on the newspaper and the time on the clock matched the emergency event in the same town. It was almost as if Neve had painted clues into her murals to let someone know when and what time to create a diversion.
If only she had proof that any of the mythological weapons had actually been found. And if so, the time and date of those occurrences. If they matched the times and dates painted in Neve’s murals, that would prove what Neve had been up to in town. Not just an artist after all. Then she’d just have to figure out who Neve’s partner had been—a partner who killed her because she refused to share information.
Finished with her coffee, she went back downstairs. Now her aunt was at the stove, and she turned around with a smile.
“Good morning. Feeling better?”
“Yes, thanks. The bath and tea were just what I needed.” Alex stopped to flex her arms and legs. “Actually, I feel better than ever.” She eyed her aunt with suspicion. “Did you—”
Lidia chuckled. “I may have enhanced the bath salts with a little something. If I missed a spot, you can always heal yourself, you know.”
“Right. I keep forgetting about my abilities.” Alex laughed. “It’s not quite second nature to me yet. Although the telepathy is handy. More convenient than texting.”
Aunt Lidia laughed. “I suppose so. You need to eat. Kielbasa and scrambled eggs. Buttered bread from a loaf I baked yesterday.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Now have a seat.”
After her aunt served her food, along with a fresh cup of coffee, Alex reached for a slice of soft bread with just the right amount of crust. “Where’s Minka?” she asked as she picked up her knife and spread butter on the bread.
