by Sara Hanover
Another thought popped out. “What do you weigh?”
Brian waved a quizzical finger at my interruption.
“I thought it might be important. In case the porch collapses or something.”
Mortimer drew himself up. His whitish goatee wagged. “I am an Iron Dwarf. Stone and metal are my elements.” He paused before adding, “As they were my father’s and my grandfather’s before. Wood bows before me as it is intended to do. However, that being said, your porch seems sound enough.”
Wizards, beheaders, and dwarves, oh my. “Okay.” I realized he still stood on the complaining wood. Did he have to be invited in? Outside of general courtesy, that is.
From upstairs, I could hear my mother. “Tessa. Do we have more company?”
“Mmmm. Yeah.” I looked at Mortimer, wondering how to explain him. How to keep Mom from being overly curious and hospitable. Inspiration came to me about the same time she skipped down the stairs and appeared in the foyer. She looked poised and a trifle baffled. I didn’t want her to ask me too many questions. “Mom. This is Bruno. Well, his name is Mortimer, but . . .” and I let my words trail off. My implication that one of dad’s bill collectors had finally showed up hung in the air between us.
She paled.
“Please call me Morty, ma’am,” the man rumbled. “I am sorry to be here so late.”
“Actually,” and my mother sighed, “I think you’re rather past due. Well, come in. Late or not, I won’t leave you standing outside. Iced tea?”
Morty waggled a bushy eyebrow at me as he came in and I shrugged. He looked like he could be a mob collection agent, after all. Why not trade on it?
We took the convention back to the kitchen.
I whispered to Morty as I passed him, “Follow my lead. She thinks you’re a debt collector. For, like, the mob.”
He answered with a noncommittal grunt.
Mom not only found iced tea but lemon icebox cookies. She fanned them across a plate and put them in front of everyone. I thought our two guests might be shy, but they filled both hands before I could blink twice.
“So, Mr. Mortimer. It is more than passing late. I appreciate the fact you came in person, but really.” My mother looked at him, and her expression could have melted the coldest heart.
He swallowed the cookie in his right fist. “The night is best for visits like this, ma’am, and in person, if you understand my meaning.”
“Well, yes. But what if I’d decided to call the police rather than answer the door.”
He set his free hand down heavily on the kitchen table. “Best not to involve the authorities in matters like ours. It could be embarrassing for all.”
Hell, he needed no hints on how to play this from me!
My mother put her chin up. “I’ve lost the ability to be humiliated by my husband’s activities.”
“Have you now?” Mortimer wet his whistle. “Then I’ve no need to beat around the bush or be delicate. You know what my job is.”
“I haven’t the money. I don’t know how much he owed your . . . organization . . . but he left me with nothing. You’re going to have to tell your boss to cut his losses.”
Mortimer put his now-empty glass down sharply on the counter. “Tell him what?”
I could see a quiver run through my mother. She straightened one leg as if she thought to lock her knee in place. “Let me make myself clear. My husband gambled. I had no knowledge of it. And then he chose to disappear. I’ve paid off what I can and there is nothing left. The only thing I haven’t lost so far is my job.”
“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Mortimer cornered the market on menacing insinuation.
She put her hand up and then dropped it. “I refuse. Threaten if you must. I won’t budge any more. He’s gone, and if you want to drain every drop from him, find him and go do it. His matters are none of my concern, not any more.”
Mortimer turned a little stiffly to eye me. “And what about you?”
“What she said.”
“There are still places in the world where a pretty young woman is worth something.” Mortimer eyed me, and then licked the icing off his last cookie before popping it in his mouth.
He gave me the creeps with that bit. My mom picked up the iced tea pitcher as if she might bash him across the head with it to give me a running start, but she coolly refilled his glass instead.
I opened my mouth but Morty interrupted me. “Luckily, my employer understands your position. A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush and so forth. I’ve been asked to come and assess the situation to see what the possibilities are and then return with a report. You may even find me of some help if an unpleasant barbarian happens by. Not all of us in collection are as civilized as I am. This is the twenty-first century, and we realize we have an image to be concerned with. Not all collectors ask first and listen. There are circumstances here which should be looked into.” He gave a nod. “See you in the morning.”
“Morning?”
“We are agreed.” He gave a little half bow to me as well and said, “I’ll let myself out.”
The house moaned as he trod through it and the front door shut solidly behind him.
My mother pushed the cookie plate around the counter a moment before picking it up and putting it in the sink. She made a small, stifled noise that hurt me to hear. “Tessa, I don’t want you to have to deal with this man.”
“I don’t mind, Mom. He actually seems kind of reasonable.”
“Nevertheless.”
“Mom, you can’t take time off work. Classes are winding up for me but it’s busier for you. I can give him the runaround better than you can.”
She brushed the back of her hand past the tip of her nose. Her blonde perkiness had definitely paled.
“I can deal,” I repeated firmly. Besides, I knew what Mortimer was really going to be up to. I hoped.
Brian stood to gather the empty glasses and brought them to her. “Mrs. Andrews—”
“Mary.”
“Mary. Perhaps it would be better if I find someplace else to go.”
“Nonsense! Your house burned down. I’ve made the guest room up for you and we, more than most, know what it is to have lost everything.” She brushed her hair from her face. “It can’t get much later, so I suggest we all get what rest we can. Tomorrow we’ll help you figure out your next steps.”
He nodded and, making grateful noises, started up the back stairs. Another of Aunt April’s old house eccentricities—it had servant stairs from the kitchen and a sweeping staircase from the foyer or front parlor. I finished helping clear the kitchen. Maybe I shouldn’t have brought Morty in publicly. I had just brought more hurt in, and my mother didn’t deserve that. I went up the stairs slowly.
Brian waited for me in a dark corner of the hallway.
“Mortimer. Why can’t I remember much about him? Did I not have friends? I’ve lost everything, but what I’ve lost most is myself.” My brash, irascible professor sounded as if he could drown in grief. I thought that I understood what he might be going through. I put my hand on his arm.
“He used to sit in the arbor with you.”
He frowned. “Yes. Yes, he did.” Then a glow spread over his face. “Tessa. The arbor. I’ve hidden something in the arbor. I can’t remember what but—” He waved his hands. “I remember something.”
“You told me the redwood was a good guardian.”
“Yes. Yes, I must have.”
“You can’t go after it.”
“We can’t leave it to chance that Steptoe won’t find it!”
“You’re not going.” I grabbed my backup hoodie from my closet. “You go occupy the guest room till I get back.” I stopped at the top of the stairs. “Any idea what it is I’m looking for?”
He shook his head sadly.
I shrugged. “I�
�ll handle it.”
It might only be trouble, but I was bound to find something.
CHAPTER FOUR
THE ORANGE GLOW surrounding the professor’s house had subsided, dimmed by the billowing smoke, which was the natural response of fire to water being poured on it. Most of the excitement and neighbors had evaporated, and I could hear the firemen as they shouted out progress to one another. They seemed to be down to hot spots now, dousing them liberally whenever they found one as they raked through the debris.
I thought the evening had me covered and hidden, but a hand fell on my shoulder as I ventured closer.
I jumped.
Carter Phillips said, about four inches above my ear, “We don’t believe he got out.”
“No?”
“I’m sorry.”
I twisted around to meet his expression. “We were too late. We were all too late! All these nosy neighbors,” I waved a hand, “and which one of them dialed 911 before they came running out to see?” I clenched my teeth a moment. He’d called me first. Why hadn’t I called emergency myself? I’d run instead. And arrived just as late. Even if he’d reincarnated as Brian, he wasn’t the same. Not at all.
“It’s not your fault.”
I crossed my arms over my chest.
Detective Phillips persisted. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Well, I’m not. I mean, I am because I couldn’t get to him— but I’m angry too. Nobody deserves to die like this and yet he had to. It’s selfish of me, but I didn’t want to lose him. He was kind of a friend. More than that, really, but . . . and I had to know him. The town already thinks we’re ax murderers and now this.”
“No one thinks you had anything to do with this. Or your mother.”
“Checked your Twitter feed lately?” Thanks to Evelyn, I was fairly certain the news and rumors were flying about. Richmond, Virginia was the hotbed of free speech after all, where the church where Patrick Henry gave his famous Revolutionary War spiel still stood, and tweets were nothing if not free speech. Frequent, irresponsible, ignorant, and often inflammatory, but free. I might not agree with anything that was being said, but I’d been raised to fight for the right to say it.
Carter looked as if there were something more he wanted to add, but his jaw tightened and that off-center cleft twitched. I wondered again if he’d been born with it or if it had been carved by his duty in Afghanistan. He was just old enough that we hadn’t shared time in middle or high school together. I had no memory of him before he’d come back home a hero of sorts, becoming a policeman and then a detective in record time. Not that he wasn’t qualified, but Richmond had found a way to thank him for his service. He was good at what he did, too. Everyone said so. Even when he was haunting our footsteps when Dad disappeared. He’d been both persistent and kind. Not to mention devastatingly good-looking. I turned my head away, not wanting to stare at him, but wanting to memorize his face at the same time.
Before either of us could say anything else, I spotted Steptoe and his sidekick lurking on the other side of the street. Again? I needed to catch a break. No one seemed to notice or block their way as they wove around the workers and hoses and policemen. They paced the pavement like hounds searching for a scent, Steptoe particularly with his head up. I could almost see his nostrils flaring as he waved a hand, talking to the two on his heels. I sidled sideways a step to keep Carter between us. It worked so successfully in the direction I wanted to go that I repeated it. Carter followed.
Another hundred sidles and I’d make it to the arbor. Maybe by the Fourth of July.
“You really shouldn’t be here. They’re trying to mop up, and then the investigators will move in when it’s cool enough.”
“Is that how it works?” I tried the wide-eyed and interested look. I tried another step. Ninety-nine more to go.
“If it’s property damage only, they’d fence it off and wait a day or two for the site to be stone cold. Since they’re looking for remains, they want to get in as soon as possible.” He hesitated and then continued, “To verify things.”
Things. Meaning the crispy critter that had once been Professor Brandard. That’s what they called thoroughly burned corpses. If they found one. The shudder that ran through me wasn’t faked. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the idea that Brian might have hatched out of the fiery egg of the professor. Or had his body warped and twisted and heaved like a werewolf undergoing transformation until he morphed into nature boy? The image sent chills all over my body, and a late night breeze grew stronger, sending the smoke away from us, clearing the scene and making me all the more visible. Worse, Steptoe seemed intrigued by something in our direction. His head turned slowly but inexorably our way. Did he sense distress? Evil? Me?
I took another step, backward and into the shadows. “I brought him meals all the time. Mom knew him at the university. Can I just . . . just sit . . . and watch for a while?” And maybe hide under a table.
Carter shook his head. “Tessa, you don’t want to see him if they find him and bring him out. There won’t be anything recognizable. It’s not something I—” He cleared his throat. “Or your mother—would want you seeing.”
“Please. I’ll just sit in the arbor and wait for a while.” Not to mention hide from Steptoe and his thugs. He’d either recruited another one from somewhere, or the original had reformed. I rubbed the bridge of my nose. My head began to hurt from all the impossibilities.
“I didn’t realize the two of you were so close.”
Oh, but he had some idea. He’d tailed my bicycle runs at least once. He knew I spent more time here than necessary for simply dropping off the food and leaving. He didn’t know about tonight’s phone call, but he might if they decided to look through the phone records. Unless the call hadn’t exactly gone through by telephone. Brian had seemed a little vague about that. I looked up at him through my eyelashes. “We talked a lot. They all do, sometimes. I think they get lonely, you know? Mrs. Sherman even knitted me a sweater.”
“Wow.”
I leaned in a little. “It’s a little freaky looking but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I figure I’ve got the next Christmas ugly sweater contest nailed.”
He laughed.
“He used to like to eat at the patio table out there. He’d tell me things. You know, once a teacher, always a teacher.” I sighed. “I saw the smoke and panicked. I ran over, to find all this. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
Another sidestep to the arbor.
Carter looked down at me, an expression I didn’t recognize fleeting across his face. “Five minutes to say good-bye, then I’m taking you home. It’s nearly dawn.”
Hallelujah. I forced a quiet, “I know.”
He escorted me to the arbor, tall enough that he had to duck slightly as he stepped underneath the redwood arch and greenery. I threw a backward glance and saw that Steptoe seemed not to have caught sight of me as I disappeared into the greenery depths. Now that I was in, all I had to do was figure out how to get rid of my sentry, but it looked like he was glued in place. I wished there was a way to get him to leave without making him suspicious. I sat down in the third chair, which showed little wear, and stared first at the professor’s preferred seat, and then at the massive, worn-out chair which must have held Morty’s density. I reached out and traced a finger over the arm of that chair. Carter watched thoughtfully. Was he wondering how this would affect me, after having lost my dad? Had the professor been a substitute father figure? More a grumpy old uncle figure, but I know I was wondering. Why me? Why did he reach out to me for help? I didn’t have an answer. That was part of what made me angry. I felt inadequate. Even helping nature boy wouldn’t make up for that, entirely.
A faint query came from outside and Carter stepped through to answer. He looked back at me. “I’ll be back in a few; we’re setting up a final perimeter now.” And he was gone.
I
wondered if I got two more wishes or if I’d already met my limit.
I threw myself on my knees to examine the chairs and table. Nothing met my eye. If the professor had put anything here, it was well and truly hidden. The underside of the table yielded nothing but a butterfly chrysalis, waiting to open.
I stood back up and eyed the trellis. Thin and spindly plaited redwood strips, where nothing secreted along their woven ribbons met my eyes. Where then? And what just what had Brian remembered? What could possibly be hidden here?
Morty’s distressed wood chair stared blankly and unhelpfully back at me. Gouges and notches danced before my tired eyes, marching in and out of a jagged pattern in the wood grain. A pattern. I threw myself into Morty’s throne and ran my tender fingers over the wood.
Definitely a pattern. And the left arm was thicker intentionally.
I leaned close to stare at it, the arbor’s long shadows thinning as the night faded a little.
A Chinese box. The professor had inlaid a Chinese puzzle box into the arm of the chair. It wrapped around underneath the sturdy arm, but I could trace its outline, revealing it to me. Press here. There and. . . . so!
A panel slid open. If it contained a treasure, it wasn’t much bigger than a stick of gum. I explored with my fingertips and a key fell into my hand.
“Tessa?”
I slammed the panel shut and jumped to my feet. Carter leaned into the arbor. “We’re fencing the property off. I have to clear you out of here. They haven’t found anything, but they intend to keep looking.”
He kept his body protectively between me and the smoking wreckage of the professor’s former life as he walked me home. I didn’t see Steptoe and prayed he hadn’t seen me as I grasped the key tightly in my fist.
Whatever the professor intended to do with his new life, he was going to have to unlock his old one first.
At the far corner from the house, Carter’s shoulder worn radio buzzed. He tapped it and listened to a burst or two of static. He said, “Be right there,” and looked down at me. “Are you all right the rest of the way?”
