by Alexie Aaron
“Nash hasn’t got his results back yet.”
“I haven’t married the lady in question either,” Nash added.
“Too soon?”
“Too soon!” both answered.
“Tell you what, you go down and discuss this with the books,” Nash said, patting him on the back. “If, and only if, they are happy with the riffraff observing their habitat while eating Clara’s amazing cuisine, then we can look further into this.”
Kalaraja rolled up the blueprint. “You know they’ll want a say in the name of the place. Call it something dreary like the Gloaming Gourmet or trite like Eat Your Words.”
“I like Eat Your Words,” Clara said, impressed.
“Me too,” Nash said and high-fived Clara.
“I’ve changed my mind. The two of you have no business reproducing,” Kalaraja grumbled, heading for the stairs.
Nash took Clara in his arms. “I love you.”
Clara kissed him. “I love you too.”
“You should see what the place looks like without the Penguin Classics bin. I didn’t realize how much space that thing took up.”
“I will as soon as I’m finished here.”
“Clara, I hope we find out my heart condition isn’t congenital.”
“Me too. But if it is, we’ll foster until we can adopt. We’re good people; we’d make great parents.”
“I had a wild idea. It involves a turkey baster.”
“Go on.”
“Actually, you gave me the idea. We could ask Wendell.”
“No.”
“Clara…”
“He or his mother would want to be part of our child’s life. I don’t think you’d appreciate their interference.”
“Well, I’m confused. I thought it would be something you’d want.”
“First and foremost, I want you. If we get bad news, then we’ll take our time to genuinely get to know each other. You’ll have to get fixed, because our birth-control bill is eating into our profits.”
“Ouch.”
“I could do it myself,” Clara said, extracting a filet knife from her chef’s knife set. “I think there is a book on it downstairs.”
Nash’s hands covered his crotch, and he backed away from Clara.
Clara laughed but looked at him, the knife, and back again before returning it to her set.
“I promise if I’m a genetic time bomb, then I’ll get a vasectomy,” Nash said.
“You do that, or your meat’s mine.”
“Said like a true chef,” Nash said.
~
Catherine grasped Wendell’s arm as they entered the visitor’s room. Their names had been on Elma Kis’s list, and Detective Jones notified them that Elma had requested their presence. He had alluded that if either of them had an opinion on whether they were talking to Elma Kis of the book club days or the crazy woman who hunted down Wendell and Clara at the bookshop, to let him know.
The room was presently empty. They were granted an early private visit. Catherine’s physical limitations were taken into account. Also, the warden was one of Catherine’s old students. There were guards on duty, standing at a respectful distance.
A door opened and Elma Kiss was led in. She wasn’t wearing an orange jumpsuit like the Baumbachs had seen on TV. Instead, she had on a chambray button blouse over denim elastic trousers. On her feet were slip-on shoes. She walked with the female guard to the table and sat down. The guard then waved the Baumbachs over.
“No touching, no giving the prisoner anything. If you feel you’re in trouble, let the guards know. Raise your hand when you wish to leave. Do not turn your back on grandma here. She has a bad habit of biting, kicking, scratching, and spitting.”
“I’m not a grandma. Do I look old enough to have kids?” Elma asked.
“Respectfully, I’ll withhold that comment,” the guard said and left.
“Well,” Elma said. “I suppose you know that was done for drama. How’s the book club?”
“We’ve gained a few new members,” Wendell answered. “We finished The Secret Garden and will be starting The Nightingale, a novel by Kristin Hannah.
“Awfully modern,” Elma commented.
“It’s a historical novel,” Catherine said.
Elma looked at Catherine as if she had just popped in out of the blue. She waved her away like a fly.
“It’s got some great reviews. A lot of the east coast book clubs are using it,” Wendell said. “I’m sure the prison library has a copy, or I could arrange for one to be sent over.”
“Why?”
“So you can keep up,” Wendell said cheerfully.
“Wendell, I’m not getting out of here anytime soon,” Elma said.
“What does your lawyer say?”
“I’ll never pass the psych evaluation to stand trial. He’s looking into getting me into a private prison.”
“Can you afford that?” Catherine asked.
Elma didn’t answer her.
“Elma, Mother asked you a question. Don’t be rude,” Wendell scolded.
Elma turned to Catherine and thought about spitting at her but suppressed the urge. The guards didn’t like when she spat.
“I have money, Catherine. Money hidden away. Or have you found it,” Elma hissed.
Catherine grabbed Wendell’s hand. She steeled herself and asked, “Horace, is that you?”
Elma raised an eyebrow and sighed. “I’m not going to answer that.”
“How?” Catherine asked.
“This female loves company. As long as I tell her she’s beautiful, she lets me stay.”
“Prove you’re Horace.”
“You have a scar at the base of your spine. It’s a crude little HB. Remember when I carved it into you?”
Catherine raised her hand.
The guard came over and escorted Elma out of the room.
Wendell was worried; his mother was breathing too hard.
“What’s wrong?”
“They didn’t kill him. Only his body is dead. He’s living inside of Elma.”
“That’s impossible.”
“When it comes to your father, anything is possible,” Catherine said.
“We have to tell Detective Jones.”
“No. First, we must tell the Order,” Catherine said. “We have to act quickly. If Elma is put in minimum security, she’s going to disappear. Horace will take control, wait until our guards are down, and slaughter us one by one. We’ll never have peace if he’s out there.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Detective Jones finished his call and slammed his hand down on the desk. “Of all the stupid things to do. I warned them. Minimum security indeed!”
Sergeant Dahlberg, who was working with Jones on their latest case, looked over concerned. “What are you talking about boss?”
“Elma Kis made a deal with the DA to plead guilty to all charges except kidnapping. She said she had no idea Molina was taking a nap in the trunk of the cruiser. The DA thought we had enough to put her away for life without the feds getting involved. Elma came up with the funds and was on her way to that private prison in Indiana when her transport was ambushed. She’s gone.”
“The transport officers?”
“Stunned by some sort of chemical, but they’re going to make it.”
“What can I do?”
“Call Nash Greene, Clara Tyler, Kabir Patel, Marianne Irving, and Marc Davis. I’m going to go and see the Baumbachs and warn them personally.”
“Yes, sir,” Dahlberg said and pulled up the Elma Kis file.
~
Clara paced the floor of bookshop, making sure to stay out of the way of the workmen. She volunteered to stay and supervise the breakthrough of the wall. Nash was at the hospital. He was nervous but insisted that he wanted to receive the test results by himself. Johan and Kalaraja were down at the city planning office, filing more plans. It took seven tries, but finally, t
he two of them came together with a great vision of Eat Your Words.
The store phone rang. Clara picked it up so fast that Dahlberg,on the other end, jumped.
“One More Time,” Clara answered.
“I’m looking for Nash Greene or Clara Tyler.”
“You found Clara Tyler.”
“This is Sergeant Dahlberg. Detective Jones asked me to give you a call.”
“It’s been a few months, how is the detective?” Clara asked.
“I’m sorry to report this but…” Dahlberg told her the situation. “We’d like to place a policeman at your place of business.”
“We’re actually closed for renovations right now.”
“But you are at the store.”
“I’m babysitting workmen,” Clara said. “Nash is at the hospital getting some test results. I doubt that Elma would know that, but if you could send someone there to bring him back, I would appreciate it. I just don’t like the idea of him walking back when she’s out there.”
“Give me the particulars.”
Clara did so and promised to call if they spotted Elma Kis.
~
Catherine Baumbach answered the door. “Detective Jones? Come in, come in. I’ve just taken out some pumpkin bread. I know it’s pushing the whole autumn harvest theme, but I see one leaf turn, and I’m in the mood for pumpkin everything.”
“Mrs. Baumbach,” Jones said, walking in, “where is Wendell?”
“He says he’s at the library, but I know he’s at Dave and Buster’s. Clara let slip once that’s where he spent his spare time. It’s a harmless omission. Let’s keep it between the two of us, shall we?”
“Elma Kis escaped custody.”
“Oh my,” Catherine said, putting her hand on her heart. “I think I’d better sit down. How did this happen?”
“They were transporting her to the posh prison in Indiana. I don’t know where she got the money for it, but she did.”
“Elma Kis has always been a bit secretive,” Catherine said. “I’m worried about Wendell. Can I give him a call?”
“I could go over there.”
“Sit and enjoy some pumpkin bread,” Catherine said. She rose and picked up the kitchen phone.
Jones watched her.
“Wendell? Wendell, can you hear me? It’s very loud at the library,” she said and winked at the detective. “What’s all that beeping? The photocopier?”
Jones could tell that she was enjoying pushing Wendell’s buttons.
“I’m calling to tell you that Elma Kis escaped. Be careful. Take a cab home. Yes, see you soon.” Catherine put the phone down. “I couldn’t resist teasing him.”
Jones accepted the glass of milk Catherine poured him without asking. They sat together, and she asked about his family.
“The kids are testing us. Fortunately, my wife is on the ball.”
“I envy you having a two-parent family. I fear my little duck will never leave the nest. I tried to fix him up with Clara, but she was already taken. Still, Wendell made a friend.”
“Officer Blunt tells me that she’s joined Wendell’s Tuesday night book club.”
“You know, I had Brenda in my honors class. She’s as bright as they come. I was rather surprised to see her in uniform.”
“She says she was called.”
“Like a priest is called. Did that happen to you?”
“No, I’m from a family of cops. But I went to school first. Made the transition to detective easier. This is a rough town, but it has a good heart. I just have to remind myself of that from time to time.”
Jones received a text. “Excuse me a moment.” He looked at it and sighed. “My sergeant was able to contact everyone. Would you like me to wait until Wendell comes home?”
“No. He’ll be along soon.” Catherine got up and wrapped up all but one piece of the bread for the detective to take home. “If your wife wants the recipe, have her call me.”
Jones left the house whistling. He knew he had gotten off easy. He thought for sure that Catherine would take him to task for them losing Elma Kis.
Catherine leaned against the door. She pulled out her burner phone and sent a text.
He thinks you’re at Dave and Buster’s
Good going. I have Joon-ki using my account today. Just in case.
~
Wendell drove the rented RV into the filling station. Natalie ran in to pay for the gas in cash. He walked in the back to see how Kabir was handling Elma.
“She/he is just coming around. Natalie is going to give them another sedative. It’s really freaky to see two people looking out through one set of eyes.”
“We’ll be there in three hours, give or take rush-hour traffic.”
“Wendell?” Elma asked, looking up from the chair she was belted into. “What’s going on?”
“I couldn’t bear to see you in prison.”
“I knew you fancied me. Can you take off these handcuffs?”
“That’s a problem. Now don’t get mad. You see, I didn’t think past liberating you from the transport van. I have someone at our little hideaway who has keys.”
“Kabir, so nice to see you.”
“Elma, when Wendell called and told me you were in trouble, I leapt at the opportunity to help you.”
Elma was pleased. She always thought that Kabir had fallen under Marianne’s spell, but she had been wrong. When the chips were down, he came to her rescue. Her transport had just left the highway when they were detoured by flooding. They had slowed to a stop, just under an old railway bridge when something crashed through the windshield. The transport bus was filled with gas. The guards were dropping like flies. Elma lost consciousness, but Horace didn’t. He watched as his son and Kabir Patel carried Elma out of the bus and into some kind of a motorhome.
Horace wasn’t strong enough to take control of Elma’s unconscious body. He needed her to be awake in order for him to guide her. He felt Elma jerk and saw a needle exit her upper arm. He sensed her body relaxing even more. This sedative was too much for Horace. He fell once more into oblivion.
Now the fools were comforting Elma while he gained power. Soon, he would be able to… Elma’s body jerked again. This time, Horace fought the haze that pulled him under. He vowed that these people would pay for disrupting his plans. The minimum-security prison would be an excellent place for him to have Elma start constructing another book. This book wouldn’t have the limitations that the first book had. He had learned from the mistakes he made. This time, he would control the people, use them to kill his wife, his son, Nash Greene, and anyone who dared oppose his world domination. Sure, he had to live out his dream in the starved body of a spinster, but he would survive.
“I’ll kill you,” Elma hissed at Wendell just before the darkness took them.
“Not today, Pop,” Wendell said. He looked over at Natalie. She smiled.
“I gave them a heavier dose. Now that the gas has left her system, I can be more liberal with the amount of drug. This should hold both until hours after we arrive.”
Kabir got up. “I’ll drive the next leg. I received a call Marianne forwarded to my burner phone. I didn’t expect it. I’m glad you thought ahead Natalie.”
“Actually, it was Joon-ki. He said that you all would need an alibi once they started to investigate the attack on the transport. The marshals will look into everyone who would have a reason to want Elma Kis to disappear. He has left a paper trail using several senior citizens who are traveling to Europe and Asia courtesy of the Order. We just need to deliver Horace to the monastery.”
“But he escaped from there before,” Kabir said.
“They had no idea that he could transport his consciousness. I hope they bring in an exorcist and try to remove him from Elma. Until then, he will reside in a room with nothing in it.”
“It seems a little cruel to do this to Elma,” Wendell said.
“The alternative is to kill her
. This way, maybe eventually, Elma Kis can live out a cloistered but satisfying life. Maybe start a book club with the other monsters residing there.”
“Why didn’t we just kill her?” Kabir asked.
“Because Elma didn’t kill anyone. Human life is precious. We must be careful how we dispense justice. With luck and the skill of the monks, Horace will pay for killing Ron Santiago, Monica Voorhees, and Trisha Prue.”
Wendell pulled a blanket around Elma and secured it.
The RV started to move. Wendell sat down next to Natalie.
“I’m sorry that you had to go through all of this. Your mother worked so hard to keep you from knowing about your father and his crimes.”
“I’m not sorry,” Wendell said.
“Really?” Natalie asked, surprised.
“Yes, because without this happening, I may have never met you.”
Natalie smiled. “Wendell, I’m glad I’ve met you too.”
“People misunderstand my relationship with my mother. I respect and admire her, but she doesn’t keep me from seeing the value of being with a woman. I’ve just not met the woman I wanted to be with before this adventure.”
“Clara is supposed to be with Nash.”
“I’m not talking about Clara. Am I reaching too high to assume that maybe you and I could test out the water of a romantic relationship?”
Natalie blushed. “But, Wendell, I’m a little older than you. I can’t give you children.”
“I don’t want children. I don’t think I should pass on any of Horace’s DNA, do you?”
“That’s not for me to know. Maybe we need to consult the Knight of Science Fiction?”
Wendell laughed.
“Let’s take this slow,” Natalie said, quite pleased the honorable man before her was interested in her.
~
Clara was surprised to see Officer Molina escorting Nash into the building.
“I had to see this for myself,” Molina said, looking around. “It’s quite an undertaking. Where are the books?”