14. Tallus

14

Tallus

T he air in Allan Cornell’s apartment was stuffy and hot. The pungent aroma of death lingered, and I wrinkled my nose. Winifred must have smelled it too. The moment she had the door unlocked, she hustled to open a few windows.

“The utilities are still hooked up since Allan and I are on the same system, but the landlord turned off his air,” she explained. “It’s a bit sticky.”

It was more than sticky. It was like swimming in a pond of caustic waste in the middle of the Amazon. It took all my willpower not to gag.

Diem seemed unaffected.

“When did Allan pass away?” I asked, pressing the back of my forearm against my nose.

“Found him August seventh. They figure he’d been gone a few days.”

Good lord. It had been three weeks. Even with the body removed, the scent was nauseating. Winifred stayed near a window. She’d dressed in khaki-colored shorts, a frilly blouse, and white leather sandals.

“Be quick, boys. I ain’t got all day, and being here stirs my emotions.”

I aimed for the kitchen, figuring if we were going to find a calendar or appointment book, it would be there.

Diem followed. He hadn’t said much, but between the way he walked and stood, his opinion on the matter was clear. This whole thing was a waste of time. More than once, I felt the heat of his gaze, but when I met his eyes, he shriveled and looked away.

We had a mountain of shit to get through if we were ever going to make this work. An Everest mountain. An Everest mountain in bad weather. I wasn’t sure we were properly equipped for this endeavor, but I’d set the ball in motion by kissing him, so I had no one to blame but myself if it all went tits up.

Despite the smell, the kitchen was sparkling. Cleaning products had been left near the sink, and I wondered if this was the room where Allan had done the deed. Shuddering at the prospect, ejecting the thought from my head as quickly as it had landed, I scanned the room. No visible calendar. Several magnets clung to the fridge, holding notes, so I poked around to see what they pinned down.

Photographs of two children and a woman who must have been their mother.

“His niece and nephew,” Winifred explained when she caught me staring. “They’re his sister’s kids. They didn’t talk much. Allan and his brother-in-law didn’t get along.”

Beside the picture was a medical form he needed to take to the lab for bloodwork. I didn’t speak doctor lingo, so the checked boxes meant nothing to me.

Under that was an article torn from a magazine, sporting a coupon for fifteen percent off a hotel and certain attractions in Niagara Falls.

Winifred tsk ed. “We were planning to visit in October when the leaves changed color,” she explained as I tilted my head to read the fine print. “Allan had never been to Niagara. Hard to believe, isn’t it? It’s right next door. One of Canada’s more famous attractions, and he’d never seen it. Never will now. It’s a shame.”

“I’ve never been either,” I said offhandedly as I skimmed another item pinned to the fridge. A parking ticket dated August first. Allan had let the meter run out, and the cop had fined him fifty-three dollars. I wondered who would be responsible for paying it now.

“You should take the coupon,” Winifred said. “Have yourself a discounted weekend. You got a girlfriend, Tallus? Take her. It’s beautiful, especially in the fall.”

I ignored the girlfriend comment and lifted the corner of the parking ticket to get a look at the last item under the magnet. A business card for Janek Piotrowski. Her business hours, office location, and phone number were printed underneath. A leafy logo I assumed had something to do with health care was stamped on the left-hand side.

Diem tugged open a few drawers and slammed them closed again before wrenching open one cupboard after another, telegraphing his animosity, in case I didn’t know he thought the whole interview with Winifred was a waste of time.

A thin cupboard angled in the corner contained a similar lineup of herbal supplements as I’d seen upstairs on Winifred’s counter, but most of Allan’s were still sealed with the plastic shrink wrap around their lids.

“Well, son of a gun.” Winifred shuffled up beside Diem so she could pick up a bottle. She was so close to the brooding giant that their arms brushed.

d and tried to retreat as Winifred, oblivious to his discomfort, continued to talk. “That booger butt never took any of them.” She removed every bottle from the cupboard, inspecting them and clucking her tongue.

Diem’s anxiety was reaching its peak. I saw it in the way his eyes darted around, looking for an escape. Winifred had trapped him in the corner, and he wasn’t the type to put his hands on someone to physically remove them from his space. Nor was he one to admit weaknesses. I was about to speak up and save him when he grumbled something under his breath, squeezed around her—doing all he could to avoid touching her—and left the room.

Only then did Winifred notice. “Is your partner okay?” she glanced at the doorway where Diem had disappeared. “He’s awfully scowly. Is he in a bad mood?”

“Who? Diem? Nah, he’s in a great mood. Verging on giddy, if you ask me. His face always looks like that. If he was in a bad mood, you’d know. There would be at least twenty-seven more degrees of growl to his tone, and you would be able to hear him grinding his teeth from the next block over.”

Winifred seemed confused but turned back to the pill bottles. “Guess you never know a person, do ya?”

“Ain’t that the truth. To be fair, he’s hard to read. I’m just figuring him out, and we’ve known each other for ten months.”

“Huh.” I didn’t think she was paying attention anymore, too concerned with what she’d found.

I moved in beside Winifred and inspected the bottles she’d removed before she put them back on the shelf. Most had names I couldn’t pronounce, but the fine print claimed they were for joint pain relief and contained ingredients like glucosamine, blends of turmeric, fish oils, or ginger. Gross. A jumbo bottle of echinacea was the only one missing its seal. When I shook it, the scant number of pills inside told me he was almost out. So Allan had clearly taken his echinacea regularly but nothing else. I didn’t blame him. Ever since the world had been pummeled by Covid, people have been fanatical about anything that might prevent colds and flu.

“Did Allan keep a day planner or a calendar?”

“On his phone, maybe. I don’t have access. The police confiscated the device. Probably gave it to his family when they were done going through it.”

“Why would the police go through his phone?”

Winifred shrugged. “Standard procedure? I don’t know. All I know is it’s gone. I looked.”

Not finding anything noteworthy in the kitchen, I wandered around the rest of the first floor of the house that Allan Cornell had called home. Winifred followed a few steps behind. We found Diem in the bedroom going through Allan’s dirty clothes hamper.

Winifred watched with questions in her eyes, but she didn’t interrupt. I waited, equally curious, and when Diem finished, he shook his head. I had no clue what he was looking for.

“Winnie, did Allan ever mention a woman named Madame Rowena?” I asked.

Winifred hmm ed and tapped her chin. “No, that doesn’t sound familiar.”

“She’s a psychic healer. I’m curious if she might have been the one Allan went to see.”

“Maybe a Dr. Hilty?” Diem asked.

Winifred sighed. “I wish I could help more. His cousin might know.”

“Can you call her? Ask for us?”

“Oh, I don’t think so. She never much liked me. I wouldn’t want to stir the pot. I’ve been calling Allan’s sister endlessly to see when they’re coming to clean this place. I offered to do it, but they refused. His rent is paid until the end of the month, but if they don’t get on it soon, they’ll be fighting with the landlord, not me.”

“What’s her name?” Diem grumbled.

“His sister? Cassandra.”

“The cousin.”

“Oh. Ursula the Sea Witch.” Winifred cackled.

Scowling, Diem blinked several times.

My lips twitched, and I jumped in before my nonpartner lost his cool. His fuse was clearly shortening. “I’m sorry, but Ursula?”

“Yeppers. Just like the nasty octopus woman in that kids’ movie. Fitting. Believe you me. If you knew her… She’s a manipulative woman. I think it has to do with her home life. Husband’s a good-for-nothing sleazebag who drinks too much and puts his job before his family, and her kids are demanding. The younger one rules the roost and gets whatever her heart desires, and her older boy has been nothing but trouble since graduating high school. I told Allan that—”

“Ursula what?” Diem said from behind clenched teeth.

Winifred thought for a moment and shook her head. “I honestly don’t know, love. Not sure I ever did. It’s just as well. I might look her up and give her a piece of my mind.”

I thanked Winifred for her help and followed Diem to the front door.

“Hang on, Tallus,” Winifred called. “Let me give you my phone number in case you change your mind about those coupons. If you don’t have a girlfriend, I’d happily accompany you. Might learn a thing or two from this old broad.” She winked suggestively. “Never had a complaint from any man who shared my bed, and with us both in our sexual prime, it could be fun.”

“I… um…” Didn’t know what to say to that, and for once, I was grateful beyond belief when Diem grabbed my arm and physically dragged me along the driveway to the Jeep.

“He’s gay,” he shouted over his shoulder, “and he’s not interested or available.”

It wasn’t until we were both seated in the vehicle and Winifred had returned upstairs that I spoke, doing all I could to contain a laugh. “As much as I appreciate your having saved me because that was creepy as hell, you shouldn’t out a person.”

The bear rumbled behind Diem’s rib cage as he started the Jeep. “She’s a fucking succubus.”

“Oh, so you believe in succubuses… succubi? Succubuses? I don’t know which it is. Either way, you believe in them but not mind-controlling psychics? How odd.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Don’t succubuses… succubi—Man, I have to look that up—Don’t they have sex with men in their sleep? I was wide awake back there and fully capable of standing up for myself.”

“I’ll leave you to the cougar next time.”

“Thank you.” I considered, then shuddered. “Gross, I just got a visual, and it was nasty. Now, moving along, let’s get to the real issue.”

“What fucking issue? There is no issue.”

“I disagree. You acted exceptionally possessive for a nonboyfriend, and how exactly am I not available? I’m about as single as they come. In fact, I’m on the market. I’m sampling the merchandise regularly. I’m—” Diem growled under his breath again. “—done talking before you explode and take out everything in a three-block radius. Possessive much?” I whispered, not quietly.

Diem choked the life out of the steering wheel, his knuckles blanching and his jaw iron.

“Sweetie, you seem stressed. You’ve been having a lot of thinky thoughts since last night, and that’s normal. I get it. It’s a lot to take in, but it’s not healthy to repress your feelings. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss the kiss?”

Diem gunned the engine and burned rubber out of the driveway. He took the first corner so fast that the boxy Jeep threatened to go over on its side.

I chuckled. “I’ll take that as a no, but for future reference, we aren’t dating.” I paused long enough for Diem’s breathing to normalize, for our speed to come down, and for some color to return to his face, then I added, “Yet.”

I was lucky he didn’t drive off the road.

“Stop fucking talking.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “This is way too much fun.”

“Stop. Fucking. Talking.”

I made a motion of zipping my lips and let him drive in silence for a while.

Twilight had settled over the city as Diem took us toward the office. Rush hour traffic had thinned. The August sunset had left a hazy yellow impression on the horizon.

It took several blocks before Diem found his voice. “Your case is dead in the water. You have no proof Allan saw the psychic witch or Hilty. I know I said one week, but there isn’t anything to investigate. This whole thing is a waste of fucking time and energy. We should pack it in.”

He flashed his attention across the middle console when I didn't respond.

“Oh, am I allowed to talk now?”

He grunted in the affirmative, then subtly added, “Yes.”

“Thank you. Actually.” I pointed at the Google map I’d pulled up on my phone. “I might have something. Can you take us to the 145-150-ish block of Beecroft Road?”

“Why?”

“I want to check something out.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there. My case, my rules, Guns. You said so.”

Diem grumbled. “I don’t know where that is.”

“Near York Cemetery. I’ll direct you.”

Without another word of protest, Diem turned the Jeep around, and we were off.