27. Tallus

27

Tallus

“ Y ou’re sure I’m okay to leave?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve been running this department since before you were born. Probably since before your mother was born. I’m fine.”

“You’re an angel, Kitty Kat. I apologize for all those times I called you a conniving witch. I owe you.”

“Mm-hmm. Don’t forget the chicken alfredo I made for you. It’s in the fridge in the breakroom.”

“Trust me, I’ve been dreaming about it all day. I can’t wait for dinner.” I tidied the remaining spread of pens strewn across the counter and shoved the files I’d been working on back into a banker box.

Phone. Keys. Dinner. Check, check, and check.

The office phone rang, and since I was closest and Kitty was indulged in a crossword puzzle, I snapped it up. “Toronto Police Records Department, Tallus speaking, how can I help you on this fine day?”

“Get Kitty.”

I pulled the phone from my ear and gave it a huff before replacing it and cooing, “Guuuuns, is that you?”

“Of course it’s fucking me. Get Kitty.”

“That’s not how you should talk to your nonboyfriend.”

“I’m not your nonboyfriend. Stop calling me that.”

“Oh? Are you my real boyfriend now? I didn’t get the memo.”

“I… That’s not… You can’t…” He growled something unsavory under his breath. “Get. Kitty.”

I chuckled. “In a minute. How’d it go with Janek?”

“Terrible. She gave me a card for the suicide prevention hotline, but only because she would rather believe I wanted to kill myself than admit I could be a homicidal maniac.”

I laughed. “Ah, first impressions with the infamous Diem Krause. We really need to work on your people skills.”

“We don’t. That visit cost me eighty-seven dollars and thirty-eight cents. Be glad I’m not charging you as a fucking client, or you’d be sleeping in a cardboard box for the rest of the year.”

“We both know you wouldn’t let that happen. Did the cost of bribes go up with inflation?”

“No, the cost of fucking tea went up, and I swear to god, if it doesn’t work, I’m going to put my boot through that woman’s front window.”

“D, babe, are you having a bad day?”

“Darcy and me both. Now, please get Kitty.”

“Who’s Darcy?”

“Tallus!”

“Okay. But why do you need Kitty? Why can’t I help? I thought I was your insider now.”

“Jesus Christ. I’m going to call that goddamn number because I have the sudden urge to jump out a window. Why does everything have to be difficult? Why can’t people do as I say?”

“I was only—”

“Ten, nine, eight…”

In the interest of the safety of humankind, I handed Kitty the phone, my face splitting in such a wide grin it hurt.

Kitty glared over the top of her glasses and whispered, “I told you not to antagonize him.”

“But it’s too easy. I don’t even try.”

Kitty tsk ed and spoke to Diem. “Hiya, cuddle bear. Stop counting. He’s gone.”

“I resent that. Diem loves me.”

A growl emanated from the phone.

“It’s a nonlove, sweetie,” I called out. “Relax. It works well in our nonrelationship.”

Kitty looked about ready to pummel me, so I shut up. “How’s Hazel, love?” If anyone could take the bite out of Diem’s bark, it would be her.

The urgency to race out the door abated with Diem’s phone call. I lingered, openly eavesdropping on their conversation, knowing if I didn’t move my ass, I’d be too late to intercept Memphis before his appointment with Rowena.

Kitty kept half an eye on me, and it was a pure stink eye if I ever saw one. They talked about Diem’s grandmother for a time before Diem must have moved on to the purpose of his call. Kitty made all sorts of unhelpful noises of acknowledgment before saying, “Oh, yes… Last Wednesday night. Hang on.”

Kitty shooed me out of the way and logged into the computer. She balanced the phone in the crook of her shoulder and neck and typed with flying fingers over the keyboard. In seconds, she was somewhere in the system I’d never seen. In fact, it wasn’t our system at all.

“The heck?”

Drawing her glasses up her nose, she squinted as she read. “Here we go.”

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Is that… We don’t have access to other district’s systems. How did you…”

“Last Wednesday,” Kitty said, ignoring me, “they made four arrests in York Cemetery. Two were minors. The other two were nineteen and twenty-one. All four were charged with possession, and the twenty-one-year-old was charged with possession with the intent to distribute. He was held overnight and released in the morning, court date pending.”

A pause. I heard Diem’s gruff voice on the other end of the line but not what he said.

When I tried to read the screen, Kitty nudged me out of the way, covering the phone’s mouthpiece and admonishing me for being nosy.

To Diem, she said, “Yes. Brodie Newall… Yes, love, that’s what it says. I wouldn’t lie to you, and please don’t curse. What would Hazel say?” A longer pause. She pressed a finger to the screen. “Yes. Twenty-one… No, it doesn’t say. Of course, love. Anytime. You should come for tea and biscuits when you have a day off.”

More mumbling through the line.

Kitty met my eyes. “Yes. He’s still here… All right, sweetheart. We’ll chat again soon.”

Kitty held out the phone, and I snatched it from her hand, jabbing a menacing finger in her face and hissing, “You are not an angel anymore. You’re a witch gone bad, and you will explain yourself.” I pointed at the computer screen as she backed out of whatever she’d researched and immediately went to the History file and deleted her virtual footprint.

I gawped and sputtered. “You… You should not be that efficient with computers when you were born in the Stone Age.”

“Tallus,” Diem barked for what had to be the third time.

“Give me a second. If I don’t keep an eye on this woman, she’ll turn me into a pumpkin.” I gestured to her crossword puzzle book. “That’s enough out of you. Sit down and resume your duties as a withered old lady with deteriorating brain cells before I report you.”

Kitty cackled and returned to her puzzles.

Only once she was seated did I address the hostile man on the line who, for some reason, was counting backward from ten again. Out loud and pointedly. I seemed to have that effect on him.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you, Guns. Relax. I’m back, and I’m listening.”

“Four… Three… Two.”

“Who’s Brodie, by the way? Possession? Last Wednesday? Was that what was happening in the cemetery when we were there? What is this about? Does this have something to do with our case? PS, I’m offended you consulted Kitty over me. That hurts, D. I thought we were forming a bond… or a nonbond if you will.”

“Ten,” Diem said louder, starting his countdown again. That time, I let him get to one before I interrupted.

“Are you better?”

“No.”

“Great. Talk to me.”

“Hold off with going to see Rowena.”

“What? Why? I can’t. Memphis’s appointment is set. I was planning to—”

“I gotta do research. Information comes first. Don’t go. I’ll call you back.”

“Diem… Diem, don’t you dare hang up on—” I gasped and clutched my chest. “The fucker hung up on me.”

“Language,” Kitty admonished. “You young boys need to find better words to express yourself.”

I wagged the phone at my cunning coworker whose merits for getting down and dirty were commendable, not that I’d tell her. “You don’t get to give me lip. What was that about? What kind of sneaky computer knowledge do you possess that I was unaware of? Are you a hacker? Is that how you became omnipotent? Teach me, oh great one.”

“Don’t you need to meet Memphis?”

“Yes, but…” I stared at the phone, considered Diem’s request for all of ten seconds, then slammed the receiver back in its cradle and checked the time. “I’m never going to make it. If Diem calls back, I… Tell him… No, you know what? My case, my rules.”

I didn’t have time to wait. If I wanted to get inside Rowena’s house and get a feel for what was happening, now was the time to do it.

Racing from the office, I shouted a goodbye slash warning to Kitty because this wasn’t over. She had some explaining to do.

In the Jetta, I used Bluetooth to call Memphis. His appointment was in less than twenty minutes, and I was too far away.

“If you’re calling to talk me out of this, you’re too late. I’m going.”

“Memph, listen. Let me take your place.”

“What?”

“There’s stuff you don’t know. Bad stuff. Okay, honestly, I don’t know shit. She could be a perfectly normal psychic doing perfectly normal psychic things, but it’s imperative you let me go in your stead just in case. I will sacrifice my hot, young body for you and you alone. Step down, my friend. The odds are not in your favor.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No! Stop. I can’t explain, or I would. I don’t have all the pieces. I barely have half the pieces. Heck, I’m not sure the pieces I do have even go to this puzzle, but something sketchy is going on, and Rowena is possibly the link.”

“Do you hear yourself when you talk?”

“I do, and I think it’s why I haven’t gotten far in life.”

“Tal, I’m going. I’m done talking about it. Whatever you’re doing, have fun. You and your iceman stalker are made for each other.”

“People are dead, Memphis.”

“Yeah, girl, I know. I was there when you read the review and turned it into a headline. But, sweetie, listen. Madame Rowena didn’t mind-control that young girl and make her jump off a balcony.”

“I know. Mind control isn’t a thing. But—”

“Goodbye, Tallus.”

“Eleven people,” I shouted. “Not one or two. Eleven people are dead.” But Memphis had hung up.

“Oh, bitch. You be pissing me off.” I changed lanes and hit the gas. “Hey, Google, text Memphis.”

Once the annoying AI bot was listening, I spoke as clearly as possible. “Do not drink the Kool-Aid. I repeat. Do not drink the Kool-Aid.”

The message sent.

I waited.

Memphis didn’t text back.

I was about to go ballistic when, at a red light, my phone rang. I answered without acknowledging the caller ID. “Bitch, I’m gonna haul your ass out of there and slap it until it’s red and raw and not in the way you like. You will not be begging for more. You’ll be begging for me to show mercy, and I won’t.

“Then, I’m going to force you to put on polyester underwear so you chafe and itch. We both know how sensitive your beanbag is, baby. When you’re good and miserable, I will buy a family-size bag of Oreos, double-stuffed, open them, and leave them on your counter. We both know you’re gonna eat the whole fucking pack because you have no self-control. And, baby, sweetheart, those cookies will go straight to your thighs. When you’re bloated and feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll call What’s His Name at the shoe store and tell him you need company and girl, I’m going to hang around and watch the show go down because you know I can’t say no to live entertainment. What do you think of that?”

I weaved around a pretentious F250, checking my rearview to be sure I’d cleared his front end before swinging back into my original lane.

“Nothing to say?” I asked.

Deep breathing resonated through the line, deeper than was fitting for Memphis. Only one person I knew had a chest as rumbly as the one suggested through the phone. Only one person could project irritation and hostility with nothing more than inhales and exhales.

“Oh shit.”

I darted a quick glance at the dark phone screen, hitting a button to light it up, and found Diem’s name.

“Oh boy. D? Is that you?”

“Beanbag?”

“Memphis’s playful nickname for his ball sack. I’m not personally acquainted with it. I mean, I was once. A long time ago. Are you still there?”

“Oreos?”

“I can grab a bag for later if you want. Can I borrow five bucks? I barely have enough for gas.”

More controlled breathing.

“Guns, I’d love to play charades, but now isn’t a good time. If I don’t hurry my ass up, Memphis will get to Rowena’s first, and although the rendezvous I planned with Madame Blair Witch isn’t that important, I feel obligated to see it through, if for no other reason than Memphis is pissing me off.”

“I told you to stay put.”

“Yeah. I didn’t listen. You put me in charge, and I made an executive decision.”

“I think I found stuff that may be relevant?”

“You did?” I took the next exit leading to Rowena’s.

“Janek’s got a new kid working for her.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but this was Diem, and I got nothing more.

“Okay.” I upped my speed, checking the time and cursing. “That’s nice. Good for him.”

“The kid he replaced was fired last week.” Diem paused as though waiting for me to absorb or understand something he wasn’t explaining.

“Uh-huh. I’m with you so far, D. I know it’s against your religion, but talk faster. I’m almost there, and our conversation will be over the second I park.”

“He was fired because he was arrested last Wednesday.”

“For possession and intent to distribute. Yeah, I got that much from your talk with Kitty.”

“He was a delivery driver.”

God help me. The man truly did need a manual when it came to the art of conversation. His bite-sized pieces, delivered at random, were going to make me pull my hair out. At least we seemed to have moved beyond grunts and growls.

Mostly.

“More, D. Give me more.”

“Brodie Newall.”

I blew out my cheeks as I pulled down Madame Rowena’s street. Memphis was on foot, walking toward her house. I pulled up alongside him. Memphis halted when he saw who it was, but his expression was drenched in irritation.

“D, hang on.” Powering down the window, I addressed my best friend. “Get in.”

“No.”

“I looked the kid up,” Diem said, ignoring my request.

“Great. Hang on, D. Get. In the. Car.” I smacked the passenger seat and narrowed my eyes at my best friend.

“Brodie’s father is Milton Newall.”

“Diem! I can’t believe I have to say this, but shut up for a minute.” To Memphis, “Bitch, if I have to get out and physically deposit you into this vehicle, I will.”

Diem breathed his purposeful breathing, and Memphis stared his purposeful stare.

I threw my hands up. “I hate you both right now. All I wanted to do was investigate my case. Was that too much to ask?”

“His mother is Sandra Morgenstern,” Diem said, deciding to continue.

Memphis marched down the road toward Rowena’s.

Great. Perfect. It was like trying to tame two delinquent toddlers.

“D, that means absolutely nothing to me, and I have a bigger problem to deal with because Memphis weighs at least as much as me, and I’ve made a threat I’m not sure I can follow through with. You get me?”

“She worked in Stratford at Thrill Ville fair from eighty-six to ninety-two.”

I wanted to scream.

Moving the car, I pulled up alongside Memphis. “Memph,” I whined, changing tactics. “Please stop.”

Memphis glared. He had a look about him. One I recognized. If I didn’t give him my full attention immediately, I would not win this fight.

“Diem, let me be the first to congratulate you on using your words. I’m sure this information means something to you, but it means nothing to me at the moment. I have to go, or I will no longer have a best friend. I’ll call you when I finish my investigation into Madame Mania, and we can chat some more. Compare notes.” I hung up.

Pouting, I met Memphis’s gaze. “Fine. You win. I’ll get you that new shirt, and you can visit your toe-tickling friend and pick out shoes to match.”

Memphis arched a brow. “You for real?”

“I don’t joke about shoes.”

“That’s beyond your budget.”

“Everything is beyond my budget. I’ll figure it out.”

He got in the car.

On his instruction, I drove around the block to where he had parked on a side street and pulled in behind it. Engine off, I shifted to face my sulky best friend. “I’m going in your stead.”

“Is this you being a martyr?”

“No. It’s me investigating a suspicious woman. She’s up to no good.”

“ You’re investigating? Your stalkery brute let you?”

“Don’t call him that. But yes. It’s my case. Diem is letting me handle all the details. I think he regrets it, but he has yet to fire me.”

“Are you his partner now?”

“Nonpartner. It’s the same thing, except the wording is less scary for Diem.” I waved it off. “It’s like the nonboyfriend, nonlover fiasco. We’re getting there.”

“I thought I won the bet.”

“You did. Believe me, it will be a cold day in about 2097 when Diem finally gets around to asking me out on that date.”

Surprisingly, Memphis looked apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“You like him?”

“Oddly, yes. A lot. So if you could stop being nasty, it would be nice.”

“I’ll try.” He motioned in the direction of Madame Rowena’s. “You’d better get moving. My appointment was supposed to start ten minutes ago.”

“Are you sticking around?”

“Do you need me?”

“Always, but no. I have the whole thing sorted. I plan to play her nonsense games, and when I’ve had enough, I’ll feign the onset of a migraine. It’s nothing more than a bit of onsite reconnaissance. Us investigators do it all the time.”

“You have no clue what you’re doing, do you?”

“Not even a little. I’m making it up as I go along.”

“If she tells you Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome is around the corner, just remember, he’s for me. This was my appointment.”

“I’ll get his number for you, baby.”

“You’d better.” Memphis gave me a cheek kiss and got out of the vehicle. Somberly, he walked to his car, got in, and drove off.

For half a beat, I contemplated calling Diem back to apologize for my brisk goodbye, but I was already late, and it was like milking a rooster to get enough words out of him fast enough for him to make sense.

I got out of the car and aimed for Rowena’s.

The flashing sign on the front lawn welcomed me first. Heavy curtains covered the bay window, pulled tight, hiding evidence of the psychic’s sinister life beyond.

I knocked on the front door and got into character. I was Memphis, not Tallus. It was his appointment, not mine.

A few minutes later, the ageless woman I’d seen through the rear window the previous week appeared in stunning retro psychic regalia. Was that a thing? She could have come straight out of the pages of a fantasy book or off the stage of a movie set with her jewelry thickly layered and clinking. A shimmering head scarf—appearing army green in my color spectrum—was wrapped around her thick, wiry gray hair, its silky tassels dangling and swaying around her face with her movements. Hoop earrings and a finely stitched layered skirt that hung to her ankles completed the ensemble. A cloak of ominous mysteries surrounded her.

She didn’t greet me. She surveyed me. The penetrating look emanating from her eyes had the quality of a physical touch and raised goose bumps along my arms. Had it begun? Was she delving into my psyche before I’d crossed the threshold?

“Hi. I’m Memphis,” I announced to break the tension. “I have an appointment. Sorry, I’m a few minutes late. Car trouble.”

“Memphis,” she repeated as though tasting the word to see if it was bitter or sweet. I had the uneasy feeling this woman could pick out truths and lies without blinking.

“Come in.” She held the door wide.

I entered, surreptitiously glancing around at a part of the house that hadn’t been visible from the backyard window the previous week. It was unusually dark with the closed curtains, shapes indistinct. A sole light emanated from a distant hallway. Low music played from somewhere deeper in the house, a melancholy spiritual compilation that was both hypnotic and soothing.

I told myself not to read too much into the atmosphere, or I’d start believing in psycho-babble nonsense and become another sucker, handing over the reins and letting Rowena play god with my mind. She couldn’t read my thoughts. She had no control over my brain.

I still had free will. Choice.

I followed her toward the light and into the room I’d already seen with a round table, walls full of celestial art, and packed shelves with what I assumed was psychic paraphernalia. The music was louder but not assaulting. It had been joined by a trickling fountain and the faint tinkling of bells from dangling wind chimes, although how they were moving without a breeze boggled my mind. Was there an open window? An air current?

Madame Rowena motioned for me to sit. The chair was cushioned in what appeared to me as muddy, green-brown velvet. It molded pleasantly to my ass. A rich scent of strange herbs and spices hit my nose. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant, although I couldn’t pick out specific notes with any accuracy. It seemed floral at times, then smoky before changing to something redolent of damp, mossy woods, conjuring recollections of a hiking trip I’d gone on in college. I caught myself excessively inhaling, trying to pick out the hints of olfactory fragments and categorize them.

Then I worried the air was filled with toxins meant to alter my thinking and make me more suggestible, so I held my breath and tried not to breathe at all.

Madame Rowena moved around the room, lighting a few candles and a stick of incense in a jar on the shelf. She adjusted the volume of the music until it became secondary, almost distant. A dream-like afterthought. She pulled up a chair across from me, folded her hands on the cloth-draped table, and, silent as ever, studied me with an inquisitive eye.

A cliché crystal ball sat between us, catching the flickering flames from the candles, warping them strangely along its smooth spherical surface. Was it pulsing? I stared at it for a moment, hypnotized by its strangeness. Was it radiating with light from within? No. It must have been my imagination.

“Um…” I wasn’t sure what we were waiting for or why Rowena hadn’t begun, so I felt compelled to say something to fill the silence. “So, how does this work exactly? It’s my first time.”

“It works by you telling me why you’re here, Tallus Domingo. I’ve been waiting for you to show your face. Took longer than I expected.”

My blood turned to ice.