Symphony of Blood, A Hank Mondale Supernatural Case

by Adam Pepper

  Thomas Blake spoke first. “Okay, Mr. Mondale. You wanted to speak with my daughter. So speak.”

  I stepped forward, close enough to see her face well for the first time. Her skin was smooth, and her eyes were a devilish shade of hazel. Although her posture still looked scared and tense, there was something in her eyes that scared me: a gleam I hadn’t seen when I’d met her before.

  Clearly, the line about her being sick and on medication was bullshit. She looked fine, physically.

  “Hello again, Mackenzie.”

  “Hi.”

  “You can call me Hank. You don’t need to be so formal like your father.”

  “Okay, Hank. I’m sorry about the mess. I really need to clean this room.”

  “No need to apologize. I like messy rooms.” I stepped forward, and sat down on the foot of her bed. She rolled over and sat up. “Mackenzie, can I ask you a few questions?”

  “Sure.”

  “Please,” Thomas Blake cut in, “Be gentle. This situation is very traumatic for Mackenzie.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Now, Mackenzie. The important thing here to remember is that I’m here to help. I’m not a cop. I’m not here to get you in any trouble. Your dad hired me to help you. I’m on your side. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She began to twist a shoulder-length strand of wavy blond hair. She dropped her legs off the bed and dangled them above the floor, looking at me sideways while licking her lips.

  “Mackenzie, look at me please.”

  She kicked the bed repeatedly with her swaying feet but didn’t turn her head. I wanted her to look at me, but I continued.

  “The police were here today. Did your dad tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know why they were here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why, Mackenzie?”

  “They were asking about Bobby and Nicki.”

  “Right. They want to know what happened to your friends.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you know what happened to them?”

  Mackenzie continued twirling her hair while kicking the bed with each foot, one foot at a time at a steady pace. The pounding was starting to get annoying, and her coy routine frustrating, but I kept my cool, and kept the heat on her.

  “Do you know where they are now?”

  The kicking continued, the pace quickening slightly and losing its rhythm. But still she didn’t answer me.

  “Mackenzie, it’s very important.”

  “They’re gone” she said finally.

  “Gone?”

  “Gone.”

  “Do you know where they’ve gone?”

  She nodded, and smiled. But the smile wasn’t one of happiness, more a smile of delirium.

  “You know where they are, Mackenzie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “No.”

  “No? Please tell me more.”

  Thomas Blake shuffled, and I could feel him cringing. But surprisingly, he didn’t say a word or move to stop me from pressing her.

  “Symphony took care of them.”

  “Symphony?”

  “It.”

  I nodded. Then looked at Blake. He looked at the floor. I turned back to Mackenzie and said, “I think I may know who hurt Bobby and Nicki.”

  She stopped kicking, and looked up at me.

  “I think a man may have done something very bad to them.”

  She giggled. “Not a man.”

  “Not a man?”

  “Not a man,” she repeated, but this time her voice was an octave higher.

  “Then what?”

  The balls of her thin shoulders rose up and she giggled.

  Thomas Blake spoke up, his tone slightly annoyed, “Mondale, we already told you it isn’t a man. It’s a creature.”

  I ignored Blake’s comment; the last thing I wanted to do was call them liars, but their insistence to stick to this stupid monster story was ridiculous. “Mackenzie, the man who may have done something to your friends, I think I know what he looks like. I think he may be a vagrant. Do you know what a vagrant is?”

  She laughed again, this time louder. “Yes, silly. I’m not an idiot.”

  “Good. Of course you aren’t. Have you seen a vagrant at all? Have either of your friends mentioned seeing one?”

  “I’ve seen him.”

  “You have.”

  “Um, hm.”

  “Can you describe him to me?”

  “It’s one of Symphony’s disguises.”

  “Really? The creature?” She was leaving me no choice but to play along. I had to try and get something out of her.

  “Um, hm.”

  “Okay. Can you describe him? The creature’s disguise.”

  “Fine. He looks like an old white guy.”

  “An old white guy. Is that it?”

  “Hair bald on top with a greasy mullet in the back. Scratchy, yucky face.” She looked me dead in the eye and sounded far more rational than before as she said, “I’ve seen him, Hank Mondale. And whether you believe me or not, that bum is not a man. That bum is a monster.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. Your description is spot on. That’s the guy. We’ve got witnesses. Can I ask you one other thing?”

  “Okay.”

  “Have you seen a woman, about forty. Well dressed, attractive.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You may have seen her downtown. Near Nicki’s apartment.”

  “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

  “No reason.”

  Her eyes lit up, and she said, “Did this woman do something?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s not a woman, Hank. It’s Symphony. I told you, Symphony can change to look like a human being.”

  “Symphony?”

  “You know, the creature. I call him Symphony.”

  “You’re on a first name basis with the creature?”

  She turned away from me.

  “Mackenzie, just how well do you know this creature?”

  “Mr. Mondale,” Blake said while stepping outward, shielding her from me. “That’s enough. This isn’t a cross examination.”

  “Please. I need to know.” I twisted my head around Blake and looked at her. She was smiling, the same fidgety smile and looking at the ground. “How well do you know the creature?”

  The sinister giggling returned, and her legs started kicking the bed again, this time both in unison. Blake stood his ground between me and Mackenzie.

  “Mackenzie. Please answer me.”

  “I know Symphony well enough.”

  “How well?”

  “Mondale,” Blake said firmly. “That’s enough.”

  “How well, Mackenzie?”

  “I said that’s enough!” Now Blake was shouting.

  But Mackenzie didn’t listen. “Well enough.”

  “Mr. Mondale,” Blake said. “It’s time for you to leave.”

  She stood up from the bed and her eyes began to glaze over and fill with water. “No, Daddy! I don’t want him to leave.”

  Blake looked at her, and said quietly, “Are you sure?”

  “Daddy. I want you to leave.”

  “Are you sure, Mackenzie?”

  “Yes. Please, just let me talk to him alone.”

  Blake looked at me with squinty eyes full of contempt. But he relented. “Okay. I’ll be waiting outside.” He walked out of the room.

  “Why don’t you have a seat,” Mackenzie said in a coy, bubbly tone.

  I turned and behind me saw a rocking chair, like just about everything else in the room, it was pink—a light shade with white stripes forming a decorative pattern along the top of the chair. I grabbed it, pulled it over and sat down.

  “No, here, next to me.”

  “I’m fine right here, Mackenzie.”

  “Fine. Spoil sport.”

  “Please. We need to finish our talk.”

  She looked up at the ceiling,
not answering me.

  “Mackenzie. It’s important.”

  Her eyes began to water again, and she sniffled. Then, she completely broke down as she cried, “Symphony killed them all.”

  “Who sweetheart?”

  “Bobby. Nicki. Mr. Palmer. Mario. Symphony killed all of them.”

  I got up from the chair and walked over to her, then began rubbing her back and shoulders in a soothing motion. She seemed so vulnerable. Her hair smelled delicious, quite a contrast to the rest of the room.

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “He ate them.”

  “The creature ate them? Come on, Mackenzie. I’m not an idiot. Tell me what happened to them.”

  “I’m telling the truth.” She started to wail, her cries echoing around the room.

  The door flung open, and Thomas Blake darted towards us, with Wes and Marty marching close behind, then Greenwal followed, a step or two behind them.

  “What have you done, Mondale?” Blake said. His face was red and his eyes bubbled with rage.

  “No, Daddy. Hank is helping me.”

  Blake stopped dead in his tracks. I was sure he and his men were going to beat me way worse than Flip and Marco ever had. “Are you sure, sweetie? I will have this man removed and see that he never bothers you again.”

  “No, Daddy,” she shrieked. “No!”

  He sat down next to her on the bed. “Okay. Fine. Whatever you want.” He held her close, and she buried her head in his chest and sniffled. “Whatever my baby wants is what she’ll get.”

  “I want Hank to stay and protect me.”

  “What are we?” Wes said in a voice like one would use with a five-year-old, “Chopped liver? We can protect you.”

  “I want Hank to stay. Please.” Then she turned to me. “Please, Hank. Stay with us.”

  I looked around the room. None of the men were giving me welcoming looks. “Sure. Of course I’ll stay.”

  “I’ll have Horace set another place for dinner,” Blake said, in a voice as plain as a Quaker.

  * *

  The dining room table was a dark, stained wood—a perfect rectangle, stretching out a good fifteen feet. Blake sat at the head of the table, Greenwal to his right. They had already begun eating their salads when Mackenzie and I entered the room. Wes and Marty tailed behind us like long, distorted shadows.

  Blake looked up and smiled. “Mackenzie. You’re joining us tonight. That is fantastic.” For a moment, he actually seemed happy.

  She smiled, and mock-curtsied, then sat at the end of the table furthest from her father. “Hank, you sit next to me,” she said, then patted the soft, velvety cushion of an otherwise stiff looking chair.

  I took the seat she offered, and pulled it in to the table. Wes and Marty stood like two lost schoolboys waiting for the teacher’s instructions.

  “Sit, boys,” Mackenzie said.

  “Thanks,” Wes said. The two men sat in the middle of the table next to each other.

  Horace walked in carrying salad plates. Blake waved him over, then said quietly, but not so quietly that we couldn’t hear, “Have Martha hurry upstairs and clean Mackenzie’s room.”

  Horace nodded, then came around the table and put salads down in front of us. “Two more, I see,” he said, and Marty and Wes each nodded in recognition. Horace scurried off quickly through a swinging door that led to the kitchen. He was back with two place settings and two more salads in no time, and he lay them down neatly in front of Wes and Marty.

  “Do you like salad, Hank?” Mackenzie asked.

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “You seem more like a meat-and-potatoes guy.” She kicked me playfully under the table.

  “Yeah. I guess I am.” I said with a stern face, trying my best to ignore her attention.

  “Daddy tries to get me to eat all that healthy shit, but nothing beats a good burger.” She pushed the salad plate away. I smiled, then did the same. “That’s it!” she said then pat my leg lightly. “Horace will bring us two burgers. Don’t you worry.” Then to Marty she said a little louder, “You too, Marty. You don’t have to eat any vegetables in my house.”

  “Thanks. A good burger would suit me fine.”

  Wes was already eating his salad, but he stopped to say, “You guys are slowly killing yourselves. Try a salad. It won’t kill you.”

  “That’s my Wes,” Mackenzie said. “He takes good care of his body.”

  “That way I can take good care of you. Have to take care of myself first.” He flexed his arm and made a muscle while smiling at her.

  I was sure Mackenzie knew more than she was letting on, and I was going to press her. I waited for Wes to return his attention to his salad, and Marty seemed to be daydreaming, then I said softly, “Mackenzie, tell me more about Symphony.”

  She eyeballed me with tight, reserved eyes. I could tell she smelled my skepticism. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Well, come on. You have to admit it sounds a bit crazy.”

  Then, much louder she said, “Wes, tell Hank what Symphony looks like.”

  Wes threw up his hands to show he wanted no part of the subject.

  From the far side of the table, Blake said, “Mackenzie! Knock it off.”

  “Why? Everyone here has seen him. Except Greenwal, and he does whatever you tell him to.”

  “Mackenzie. I said that’s enough.”

  “No. Hank needs to know that Symphony is real.”

  “You tell me, Mackenzie,” I said. “Tell me what Symphony looks like.”

  “I told you already.”

  “Tell me again.” I said. She turned away, and I grabbed her arm.

  Wes looked over and snapped, “Hey!”

  I let go of her arm. “My fault.”

  “You’re goddamn right it’s your fault. Don’t you lay a hand on her.”

  “Oh stop, Wes.” She began to giggle again, that creepy, delirious giggle. Then she turned to me and said, “He’s so protective of me.”

  “That’s his job,” I said. “He does it well.”

  “Damn right,” Wes mumbled.

  “Okay, Hank. When he’s not camouflaged, Symphony looks kind of like a lizard.”

  “A lizard?”

  “A big lizard.”

  “How big?”

  “Smaller than you. Maybe five feet tall. His skin is scaly and a little slimy. He has a really long and scary tongue.”

  “What else?”

  “He’s not really mean or anything. He’s like any other animal. He just needs to eat. When he eats, he’s happy. When he’s hungry, he’s not happy. And trust me, he’s more scared of humans than we are of him. I’ve seen it. He’s timid, and very cautious.”

  I scratched my head. What was I supposed to make of her? Her delivery was good, almost believable.

  Horace came in with a tray of burgers. He put them down in front of us, and they smelled great.

  “Eat up,” she said. “After dinner I’ll show you more.”

  “Show me?”

  She giggled and rubbed my leg. Wes noticed and shot me a mean look.

  “Yes, show you.”

  “Show me what?”

  “Eat, Hank. You eat, and I’ll show you after dinner.”

  I took a few bites of my burger, then noticed Wes get up and walk to the end of the table. He leaned down and whispered something to Blake. Blake made a pickle-face and I could tell he was about to blow. His face went red and he eyeballed Mackenzie. He was trying to maintain composure, perhaps until after the meal. But he couldn’t do it.

  Blake got up from his seat and walked over. He stood behind Mackenzie and said, “Mackenzie, sweetheart, may I have a word with you?”

  “No, you may not.” She didn’t turn towards him.

  “Mackenzie!” His mouth didn’t open as he spoke through clenched teeth.

  “Daddy, I’m eating.”

  “In the living room, please. Now!”

  “No.” She spoke with her mouth full of food, devourin
g the burger at an inhuman pace.

  I continued to eat mine, not sure what else to do. Marty and Greenwal were also caught up in the awkwardness, sitting in their seats, eating their meals, while Wes stood, arms folded about two steps behind Blake, his eyes pointed straight down at his black boots.

  Blake leaned in and gripped her shoulder firmly. “I need to talk to you,” he said, slowly enunciating each word.

  She wiggled but he clenched tighter. “No.” She shimmied then slapped at his arm like she was knocking back a mosquito. “Lay off me.”

  “You will not show him.”

  “I’ll show him whatever I want.”

  My instincts told me to keep my mouth shut, but for some reason my mouth didn’t listen. “Show me what?”

  “Proof,” she said, suddenly smiling, her mood turning so abruptly I almost laughed from shock.

  I looked down the table at Marty, and he too was smiling from discomfort. Greenwal continued to eat. Wes stood still, almost motionless.

  Blake’s face was redder than a honeymooner, lost on a beach with no suntan lotion. His breath blew like a tired stallion, nostrils flaring. His eyes were pinned to the back of her head.

  She continued to eat her burger, back turned to him, crooked, unrepentant smile across her face.

  “Proof? You have proof?” I asked, unable to squelch my curiosity.

  “Yes,” she said. “I’ll show you.”

  “Is the creature here?”

  “Mackenzie,” Blake said firmly. “That is enough.”

  “We haven’t seen him for a while,” she said.

  “I said that’s enough.”

  “We think he’ll come back, though.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s mad at me.”

  “Mad at you?”

  Just then, a loud noise filled the room: crashing glass and ripping metal. I stood up, as did Mackenzie. Then, piercing above the crashing noises were the shrieks of a man’s voice; he was obviously suffering a great deal.

  “Is that Horace?” Blake said aloud to no one in particular.

  Wes and Blake walked towards the noise, into the swinging door to the kitchen. Mackenzie, Marty and myself walked away from it, towards the living room. Greenwal stood up from his seat, but stayed still, his face pale as pancake batter, his body stiff and frozen with fear.

  Pots and pans clanked and more horrible noises emanated from the kitchen. A voice cried out; it sounded like Wes, but didn’t have his usual deep, composed tenor. We ran into the living room.