Chapter 31
GINA handed Lieutenant Carson a cup of tea. “It’s my own blend. I hope you like it.”
Carson acted like he didn’t want to touch the cup and saucer. He bit his lip. “It’s not anything… weird, is it?” He didn’t know Gina was a witch, but I guess her friendship with me made her suspect.
Smiling, Gina said, “Only if you find peppermint weird.”
Carson was dubious, but he took a sip. His face cleared of anxiety, and he nodded to Gina. “It’s very good.”
It had been several days since I’d performed my circus act on the balcony twenty floors up. My left arm was in a sling and had been nicely stitched up. The cut had been deep but hadn’t done any irreparable muscle damage. Gina would ensure that I’d heal.
We were in my living room. Carson had “dropped by” just to see how I was doing, but I knew he wanted some answers, even if they couldn’t be put into the official police report. The amulet was sitting on the coffee table in front of him. Every now and then he glanced at it as if it were a snake about to pounce.
Of Robbie, there was no sign. I couldn’t feel his presence in the apartment. Gina and I had hoped that he’d show back up in the place where he felt most comfortable, but as the days went by it felt less and less likely. Gina had even tried to read her Tarot cards and looked into her crystal ball. No sign of him anywhere. She tried to be hopeful when she was around me, but I could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe I’d see him again. He’d used all his earthly energy to save me.
Carson had some more tea. “Officially the case is closed. I’m sure you’ve seen some of it on the news.”
I had. A police shootout in the parking lot of Pickin’s had resulted in a chase that had ended up at the Whitcomb Apartments. Several people had been killed, including an employee at Pickin’s, two police officers, one Derek Schneider, and a man who’d been using the name Joshua Satterfield. Real name unknown. The last victim was believed to be the man who had also murdered three local strippers. I stopped watching the news after a few such reports.
I was sitting in an armchair opposite Carson. Gina took a seat on the couch with Carson. Daisy hopped up between them and gave Carson’s hand a lick. Carson’s mouth twitched.
“Your dog looks weird. What’s wrong with her eyes?”
“Do you really want to know?” I asked.
He shook his head wearily. “I wish I didn’t even know you. Every time you show up in a case suddenly nothing makes sense. We have some bones at the morgue that the medical examiner says are several hundred years old.”
“Odd I didn’t see anything about that on the news.”
“You won’t, either. As far as the public is concerned, we have a regular body. He was the killer, and he fell to his death. Case closed.” He nudged the coffee table with his foot, unwilling to actually come into contact with the amulet. “And then there’s this thing.”
“You can touch it,” Gina said. “It’s completely harmless now. It’s been damaged, and the magical properties it held are no longer.”
“Magic.” Carson snorted. “I shouldn’t even be listening to such nonsense.”
Gina’s eyes twinkled. “But that’s just it, isn’t it? You know it isn’t nonsense.”
Carson grunted and drank some more of Gina’s tea. He cocked an eyebrow at her. “This really is good tea.” Setting the tea aside, he leaned forward and examined the amulet. Still attached to the broken leather strap, the amulet looked to be a heart-sized piece of carved wood. In the center was a black gemstone. Around the stone several shapes, including lightning bolts and a quarter moon, were carved. Some of the shapes had become so worn over the years that it was hard to decide what they were meant to depict. “So this kept our killer alive for several hundred years.”
“Apparently,” I said.
“Any idea what it is or was?”
Gina nodded. “I believe that it was the Pendant of Asmodeus.”
Caron blinked. “Asmo-who?”
“Asmodeus. In The Book of Tobit, which is part of the Catholic Bible, Asmodeus was a jealous demon who killed every man who married a woman named Sarah. Asmodeus loved Sarah himself, so every time she got married the demon murdered her husband on the wedding night before the marriage could be consummated.”
“Nice guy,” Carson said.
“Asmodeus killed seven of Sarah’s husbands until God sent the angel Raphael, disguised as a human, to rid Sarah of this demon.”
“Uh-huh,” Carson said slowly. It was all a bit beyond him. It was a bit beyond me as well, to be honest.
“There’s always been a legend that something of Asmodeus survived. A piece of his heart was supposed to have been put into a stone, and that stone was set into a wood carving.” She picked up the amulet and shook it under Carson’s nose. “Anyone who wore the amulet would be protected from death. They would never die.”
“It didn’t seem to work for this guy,” Carson said.
“He wasn’t wearing it when he fell,” Gina reminded him. “The amulet was damaged even before that, though. It was losing its magic. The carvings were becoming too worn. Our ghoul must have come across the amulet a couple of hundred years ago. It made him almost human and very nearly immortal.”
“As long as he kept eating bits of people.” Carson finished his tea with a satisfied look. Without asking Gina got up and went to the kitchen to get the pot. She refilled his cup and Carson beamed thanks at her.
“Only every hundred years. And he only had to kill seven people and eat one of their organs. For a ghoul, that’s being frugal.”
“A ghoul.” Carson scratched his cheek. “And just what is a ghoul, anyway? I always thought the word referred to grave robbers.”
I felt the need to talk. Sitting there not saying anything was making me think of Robbie, and I didn’t want to do that. So I said, “As Gina explained it to me, real ghouls are all but extinct. Our killer may have been the last of his kind. Ghouls are demons who eat the dead. Usually they then take on the shape of the person they just ate, but our friend seems to have found a way around that. The amulet probably kept him from changing shape if he didn’t want to. I think it’s significant that he always killed seven people to eat every hundred years.”
Carson gave me a blank stare.
“In 1810 seven showgirls were murdered in Stockholm. In 1910 he re-surfaced in Springfield, Illinois. Again seven showgirls were killed.”
“Why seven?” Carson asked. “What’s the significance?”
Gina shrugged. “Asmodeus murdered seven of Sarah’s husbands. The number of deaths was set into the stone that became part of the amulet.”
“But why showgirls? This Asmodeus killed husbands, not girls who shook their booty.”
“The choice of victims, I’m sure, was entirely up to whoever wore the amulet,” Gina replied. “We’ll probably never know why he chose strippers and showgirls. Maybe our ghoul had a hatred of showgirls.”
“Or maybe the opposite,” I offered. “Maybe he liked them. A lot. Liked them enough to eat.”
Carson gingerly took the amulet from Gina’s hands. When it didn’t bite him, he turned it around and examined it carefully. “It doesn’t look powerful.”
“It isn’t,” Gina said. “Not now.”
My arm itched. I shifted it around in the sling, hoping that would help. It didn’t. “You can have that if you want, Lieutenant.”
Carson chuckled and tossed the amulet back onto the coffee table. “For what? Evidence? I don’t think so. No, this thing stays with you. You can keep it. Years from now it will remind you of these last few weeks.”
Like I could ever forget. I looked around the room. It felt so empty. So did I.
THE following Monday, at Janice Sanderson’s request, I once again took the long trek down her driveway. Thanks to Gina my arm was no longer in a sling, but it was still stiff and a little painful. It didn’t hamper my driving, thankfully. I parked and got out of the car, pausing before going up to the door. I looked at the house. It seemed to be looking back at me. I didn’t want to go inside, but Janice had wanted to give me her check in person. “So I can properly thank you,” she had said over the phone.
I had, it was true, managed to save her daughter from becoming a victim of the ghoul. Brenda’s husband had died in her arms, though, and I felt responsible for that death. There should have been something I could have done. He’d been a nice kid, despite the fact that he’d punched me when we first met. He didn’t deserve to die like that.
Janice had told me that Brenda was staying with her for the time being. “She doesn’t want to live in that apartment,” Janice had said. Who could blame her?
I sighed and went up the steps and rang the bell. After a few moments the door was opened by Brenda. She looked pale and there were circles under her eyes. She tried to smile at me and failed at the attempt. “Come in,” she said.
I went in. She shut the door and attempted the smile again. This time she almost made it. “Your arm is better,” she said.
“Gina works wonders,” I replied.
Brenda nodded. “I remember.” She sniffed and looked like she wanted to say something else. I waited. Finally she said, “Derek’s funeral is Wednesday. I’d really like it if you could come.”
“I’ll be there,” I promised.
She ran a hand through her hair. “I look like shit, don’t I? I don’t think I’ve slept for days.” She looked in the direction of the living room. “Mother’s been pretty good about it all. She’s even said some nice things about Derek. I was afraid she’d gloat or tell me I was better off with him dead.”
Even Ma Sanderson wouldn’t be that cruel. The thought brought tears to Brenda’s eyes. She looked like she needed a hug, so I put my arms around her. She sobbed and rested her head against my chest.
“I miss him so much,” she said.
“I know.”
We stood there while she cried herself out. Then she stood back and wiped her eyes. “I think I’m ready for a nap. Mom’s in the living room.”
“I know the way,” I said.
Brenda nodded. “I keep on dreaming he’s still alive. Sometimes I even think he’s still alive when I’m awake. Then I remember.”
I knew what she was going through. I’d been there. Hell, I was there again. I was in the same spot. I’d wake up, thinking Robbie was in the room. Then I’d remember. I had no words of comfort, so I changed the subject. “I talked to Craig yesterday. Tiffany is doing just fine. She hates the cast and the crutches, but she’s getting around. It’ll be quite a while before she can start working, though.”
That got me a genuine smile. “I can’t believe they just left us.”
“There was a lot of crazy shit happening. Don’t think too badly of Craig. He was looking after his sister.”
“He left us to be killed by that maniac.”
“Okay, you can think badly of him a little.” I reached out and stroked Brenda’s cheek. She seemed appreciative of the gesture. “What are you going to do?” I asked her.
She shook her head. “I’m not sure. I can’t live here. That’s for sure. Once everything settles down, I’ll look for an apartment somewhere. Get a job.”
“You’re not going back to Pickin’s?”
“No. I couldn’t. Too many memories. Besides, I think that was just me being rebellious. And I’m not feeling too rebellious right now.” Once again her eyes filled with tears. “I hadn’t planned on falling in love.”
“None of us do.”
Brenda embraced me again. “Thanks for saving my life,” she said.
“Anytime.”
She ran a hand over her cheeks to wipe away the rivulets and then gave me a little wave of farewell. She walked slowly up the stairs, and I made my way into the living room to face her mother.
Ma Sanderson was wearing a simple black dress. She may not have liked the idea of her daughter being married to trailer trash like Derek Schneider, but she at least was showing respect by mourning. She rose to greet me and extended her hand. I shook it.
“I have a check for you,” she said.
“You could have mailed it.”
Janice Sanderson nodded and offered me a seat. We sat. She regarded me carefully. “I wasn’t really sure why I asked you to watch after my daughter. I didn’t really think she’d be in danger from that man, that killer. The possibility seemed so… remote.” She brushed some imaginary lint from the arm of the chair she sat in. “I think I really just wanted to show Brenda that I was watching out for her. That I cared.”
I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t anything to say.
Janice reached over to the small table next to her chair and picked up a check. She’d already filled it out. Handing it to me, she said, “I want to thank you for saving her life. You’re quite a remarkable man, Mr. Duncan Andrews.”
I didn’t feel remarkable. The check was nice, though. It was for quite a bit more than I’d told her.
“I added a bonus,” she said, reading my mind. “I don’t really know what happened that night. Brenda doesn’t say much, and the reports on the news didn’t make any sense. They make it sound like the police shot the killer, and he fell off the balcony, but I know that’s not what happened. Brenda told me there were no police there. Just you.”
Just me, Brenda, Derek, a ghost named Robbie, and a ghoul. Only Brenda and I had survived. Not really a victory. I put the check in my top pocket and rose. “Thank you,” I said. She started to rise, but I told her I could show myself out.
I got to the door but stopped when I heard thundering footsteps on the stairs behind me. I turned to see Kevin Sanderson rushing toward me. He was a little out of breath and nearly didn’t stop in time, missing colliding with me by centimeters. “Mr. Andrews!” he said.
I smiled at him. He seemed taller than the first time I’d seen him. Maybe he was just standing straighter. “Kevin,” I said.
“I wanted to thank you again for the tickets.”
“My pleasure. Have you found someone to take?”
He nodded. “I think I’m going to take my sister. She needs cheering up. She likes the Jonas Brothers, too, even though she doesn’t want people to know.”
I ruffled the kid’s hair. “I think taking your sister would be a good idea.”
Kevin stuck out his hand for me to shake. It was a firm, businesslike handshake. “I’ll look after her,” he told me.
“She’s in good hands, then.”
TUESDAY night there was a knock at my door. Daisy barked out a warning but became all love and slobber when I opened the door to find Nick there. He kissed me briefly on the cheek before kneeling down to give attention to Daisy. She rolled over onto her belly as he patted her.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” I said. Nick had called over the weekend, and I’d filled him in on some of the details, but we hadn’t seen each other all week. I was glad he was here, though.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he said. We both knew it was a lie, but we let it go. We sat down next to each other on the couch. Our arms were nearly but not quite touching. He looked at the stitched wound on my other arm. “That looks nasty.”
“You should have seen it days ago,” I told him.
He nodded and looked around the apartment. He seemed very uncomfortable. “So… still no Robbie.”
“No Robbie.”
“Do you think—?”
I stopped him. “I don’t dare think. I have to believe he’ll be back. I don’t think I could go on without him.” For the first time since he disappeared, the thought of Robbie made me smile. “He was such a funny kid. You know he even had a plan to ask you if you’d agree to let him possess you for a short time so that we could have sex again.”
Nick looked alarmed but intrigued. “Really? That’s… that’s weird.”
“Desperation makes you weird. He saw it as something worth pursuing.”
Nick pondered the thought. “It would be kind of like a threesome, wouldn’t it? In a strange kind of way.”
“In a strange kind of way,” I agreed.
Shrugging, Nick said, “I’d at least have given it some thought.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “I’d have considered it, anyway. You two really loved each other.”
“We did.” I hated using the past tense. It was like admitting that Robbie was gone for good.
“So where does this leave us?” Nick looked into my eyes.
“I like you,” I said. “I’d still like to see you.”
He nodded again. “I’d still like to see you too.” He turned and kissed me on the lips. It was a good kiss, but it still made me feel sadder than ever. This was going to take some time. Nick sensed my discomfort and broke away. “I’d better go,” he said.
This time I nodded. There was so much to say, and yet no words to say it. Nick rose.
“Want to go out Friday night?” I asked.
He smiled. “I’d like that.”
I showed him to the door, and we kissed again, briefly this time. “See ya,” I said.
He patted Daisy again and left.
I suddenly felt tired and more drained than I’d been in ages. A shower sounded good, so I went to the bathroom and pulled off my clothes. I made sure the water was as hot as I could stand. That would surely relax my aching muscles, and I’d be able to sleep. I got out and began to dry myself. I was gently patting my wounded arm when I looked over and saw the bathroom mirror. It had steamed up and no reflection could be seen. There were words written in the misty residue.
Very weak. See you soon. Love you, Robbie.
I nearly fell over. I touched the mirror to make sure I wasn’t seeing things. I scraped a finger over the V. It was really there. I dropped the towel and looked around the little room, letting my senses seek out every little nook and cranny. I could almost, almost, almost, almost feel him. He was there. Weaker than I’d ever known, but there.
“I love you too,” I told the air.