by Tonya Kappes
“We don’t have that kind of time. Our Mick Jasper has been a Casanova back in the day and these are just the tip of the iceberg.” He held out a few pages of names of women, their address, and their phone numbers.
“Let’s get through these and see what we come up with. Find out if they’ve been contacted by anyone. Run their phone numbers and cell numbers, cross reference them to see if there are any similar numbers calling them.” Burt instructed us what to do. “Sherry, you know what to do. I’m sure Maggie is a quick learner.”
“Oh, I am.” I nodded my head.
“Another person we are having a hard time finding is Georgette Treminski. She’s come up missing.” Burt sighed.
I looked away and tried to hide the big lump in my throat.
“If she shows up dead, that will be the first person not associated with dating Mick.” Burt paused. “At least that we know.”
Sherry snickered.
“If she’s alive, then she’s running or hiding.” Burt extended his arm. “Here,” he handed me a couple of pages. My stomach churned when I looked at the names. Mick had been an awfully busy man. I recalled his landlord telling me a few months back that his door was revolving, but I didn’t know that it never stopped revolving. “I even had Human Resources make you your own cubby out there. You can use the public computer to find out some basic information about these women. Sherry will show you to the cubicle.”
“Thank you, sir.” I nodded and followed Sherry out the door. It was the first time I’d had my own desk and it was exciting, only I was going to use my own way of finding out information.
Vinnie.
Everyone was so busy in the office, that no one really seemed to care what the others were doing, which made it easier for me to contact Vinnie through the necklace. The cubicle wasn’t as fun and fancy as I pictured an agent’s cubicle to be. It was basically a steal box with a computer, printer, pad of paper and a pen holder with pens and pencils. Stuff I didn’t need anyway.
I ran my hand along my necklace and when I felt a small spark, I knew Vinnie had connected with me. With one hand, I dragged my finger down the list of names Burt had given me and with the other hand, I touched the red gem, giving Vinnie the information he needed.
“I’m looking for any commonalities besides Mick,” I whispered on an exhale and looked around.
A few people were walking around so I placed my hands on the keyboard to look busy. My mind was still occupied to as why Mick was needing so much help so I decided to use the computer to see what was in there about Mick.
The search box immediately opened when my fingers touched the keyboard. I looked over both shoulders before I typed in Mick Jasper. The computer screen started to flash and an alarm sounded from the speakers.
“Code alert,” the computer said as the alarm continued to beep and the screen continued to flash. “Code alert.”
“Code alert?” I started to type stuff in like my name, but nothing happened just the beeping. “Code alert. . .” I stared at the screen. “Diggity Dog.” I remembered Sherry telling me her code name and numbers. I quickly typed them in and the alarm stopped.
“Are you okay, Maggie?” One of the other SKUL agents popped up over my cubicle wall.
“Oh, yeah.” I waved him off. “I’m fine.”
Fine, nothing. If Burt or anyone else found out that I had this code, not only would my Life’s Journey be taken from me, so would Sherry’s.
A database screen opened up with a search box. With a hen peck, I typed in Mick Jasper so I wouldn’t mess up and to make sure it was right the first time.
When Mick’s file appeared on the screen, there was a date box. I decided to start from the very beginning and it was there where his career in the Army had started and his first contact with SKUL. If I read it correctly, during his last tour of duty, Mick was in charge of a special operation where it appeared someone in the platoon had gone rogue and decided to sell intelligence to the enemy. Mick was on a team of four: him, two other men—Robert Gazda and George Hill—along with a woman, Marjorie Steepleton. The report went on to say that Mick was cleared of the wrongful death of the woman, Sergeant Major Marjorie Steepleton. I dug deeper and the locked documents were classified, meaning the true findings were never released. In reality, Mick wasn’t supposed to be on the front line with Marjorie during the raid. Robert Gazda and Marjorie Steepleton had the morning assignment. According to Mick’s statement and the military log, Robert Gazda went AWOL, leaving Marjorie on the line alone. It wasn’t until Mick realized through Marjorie’s communication that she was alone and rushed to meet up with her but it was too late. Enemy fire had already taken her down. Robert Gazda had never been found. The military had even accused Mick of helping Robert, but after his log was confirmed, Mick had an airtight alibi. Mick was under a microscope for two years until the charges were dropped. It was then that Mick decided to come home and become a SKUL agent.
My heart ached for Mick. It was a hard secret about his life to keep. No wonder he had to see Dr. Artie. There was way more to uncover than Mick wanted to admit.
Quickly I wrote down the names of his secret operative group and shut the computer off when I heard Mick’s voice coming down the line of cubicles. He was talking with the doctor and stopped shy of me.
They had a verbal agreement that Mick would come back in the morning and Mick promised he’d keep the appointment.
“You must think I’m a head case.” Mick leaned up against my cubicle wall and folded his arms across his blue button down.
“Not at all. I think we all need professional help sometimes. And if I were in your shoes and the only thing that connected the murder of people was me, then I’m sure I’d be a basket case.” I dragged the papers off the desk and handed them to him. “You’ve been a busy man.”
“I’m not a hermit, but that was a long time ago.” He looked around. “Are you busy?”
“Well,” I wasn’t busy but hopefully Vinnie was. “No, why?”
“Let’s go grab some early lunch at The Brew. I could use an ear to talk to. Plus.” He rubbed his stomach. “I’ve been dying for some of your auntie’s beans and cornbread.”
Chapter Fourteen
Auntie Meme must’ve called in Mom for reinforcement for the diner. When Mom saw Mick and I walk in and sit down at the corner table at the front window, she rushed over and slinked down into the empty chair next to me.
“Let me tell you, I can see why you and Lilith hated working for that woman.” Mom pushed back her long black hair. She was an older version of me. Most of the time people mistook us for sisters instead of mother and daughter.
“Thank you for coming to help her. She and Mrs. Hubbard had a big blow up before I left.” I leaned over. “And Joe asked Mrs. Hubbard on a date.”
“No wonder she’s dirtying up every towel in the diner. She has a pile this high.” Mom lifted her hand in the air above the table. “She keeps telling me to remind her to call Joe and have him pick up the laundry as soon as the lunch crowd starts to die down.”
“You can’t do that.” I warned Mom. “That’s when he’s meeting up with Mrs. Hubbard.”
“Then I can get some decorating done.” She smiled and snapped her finger.
“Mom,” I whispered and looked under my eyelids at Mick as I nodded my head.
“Oh, you know.” Mom looked at Mick. “I have to decorate when Mrs. Hubbard isn’t home because she will be nosy and try to duplicate my artistic ability.”
“I saw the entrance the other night and it was really neat.” Mick was kind to my family and I appreciated that, but we had business to discuss.
“Mom, can we get two bowls of the special?” I asked.
“Cornbread and beans?” She asked with raised brows.
“Yes, please.” Mick scooted his chair closer to the table. “And a Coke.”
“Make that two,” I said when she got up.
Even though I knew Auntie Meme and Mom could listen in on everything Mick
and I were talking about, I felt better being as far away from the kitchen as possible.
“What exactly happened when you found Angela?” Mick asked.
“And I mean everything. The look on her face. The look in her eyes. Nothing is too small.” Mick uncurled the silverware from the napkin and placed the napkin on his lap.
I loved his good southern manners. Within seconds, Mom was coming back out with a tray filled with the food. I glanced across the diner to the kitchen window where Auntie Meme had her head stuck out the pass through and was looking back at us. My eyes slid down to the food and then back to her. She wouldn’t hesitate to put some sort of spell on Mick or me like she did the rest of the customers.
She waved a hand at me and gave me an annoyed look as if she was telling me all was fine.
“It’s all good.” Mom’s eyes squinted when she smiled.
“It is all good.” Mick leaned over the bowl and smelled.
“It better be,” I warned.
“So?” Mick picked up a piece of his fried cornbread and crumbled it up into his soup beans. “Tell me word for word what happened.”
“I told Burt and the police. I had the package from Mystic Couture and I went straight to her penthouse,” I said.
“About that.” Mick lifted a finger at me and took a quick drink. “In the video footage, the concierge is clearly seen stopping you but when I asked him about it, he said he didn’t remember you.”
“Really?” I shrugged. “He was a little old.”
“He’s in his fifties. He’s not old. He’s been working there since he was twenty. He knows the job inside and out. He said that there was no way you could’ve gotten up there without him letting you up.”
“The police already have the video?” I wanted to throw him off his scent. He was digging.
“No.” He shook his head. “I have sources and I wanted to see for myself.”
“I went up and knocked on her door. My art.” A terrifying realization washed over me. “My art!”
I threw my hand over my mouth when I realized I’d yelled it.
“Your art?” Mick leaned over the table and whispered.
“She opened the door and I reintroduced myself. I had set the package on floor because it was heavy.” I pretended to go through the motions with empty hands. “She opened the door. Her face was blank. Her eyes were dark. She wasn’t the smiling, bubbly person she seemed to be when I’d met her at the St. James Art Festival. She was sorta slumped. She said, ‘The Ville’.”
“She actually said The Ville?” he asked. He stared at me, baffled. “That is important, Maggie.”
He shoved his chair from the table and threw the napkin in the bowl.
“Where are you going?” I asked and wondered what I needed to do.
“I’m going to go find Georgette and find Angela’s paintings.” He stood up. “Well, are you coming?”
“Yeah.” I waved to Mom and Auntie Meme and headed out the diner door. “I won’t be home for supper.”
I knew that if I didn’t show up at five o’clock supper time, Mom or Auntie Meme would send the familiars after me.
“Let’s take Vinnie.” I suggested since he was conveniently parked in front of the diner.
“I thought you parked on the side.” He pointed with a confused look on his face. “You know what,” he shook his head, “I think Dr. Artie might be right.”
“You mean Dr. Littleman, the psychiatrist?” I asked.
“Yeah. Everyone calls him Dr. Artie, by his first name.” Mick and I got into the car. Vinnie started his engine as we went through the pretend motions. “He said that when an agent has a traumatic experience in their lives plus all the pressures of the job they can just explode. My mind isn’t working right. I swear I saw you park over there.”
He pointed to the side of the building when we passed it. While he was looking down the street, I tapped Vinnie’s screen because the list of women we were looking up were on his circuit board and Mick didn’t need to see that.
I gripped the wheel a little harder than normal because I wanted Vinnie to behave. Mick was having a hard time because of my (and Vinnie’s) shenanigans, but I felt confident that if we solved this crime spree against him he’d return back to normal.
“I’m sure you are fine,” I assured him. It wasn’t like I could say that I knew he was fine because I’m a witch and he wasn’t seeing things or imagining them.
“I still can’t believe they are making me see Artie, which makes me think even more that I’m not thinking clearly.” His voice held tension. “I just don’t understand what I did to someone to kill these women. I must’ve done something awful.”
“You didn’t do anything.” It was hard to see him struggling. “You are a good man. A kind man that wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
Vinnie’s engine roared with displeasure.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t say those things.” I wished I could take those words back.
“No, I’m glad to have someone believe in me. Especially you.” His words made my heart lurch madly. “I mean we are partners.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see his smile.
“We’re here.” I broke the conversation. Not only because I wasn’t sure what Vinnie would do but also because we needed to solve this case. Vinnie parked the car and I grabbed my purse from the behind the seat. Not that I carried a purse often, but it looked mortal. “I bet Georgette is here.”
I hadn’t seen Georgette since Lilith did the reversal spell. The spell had worked on her physical person, but I really had to believe that it worked on her memory and she didn’t remember me at all. Even the part where we went to get coffee before the Spell Circle performed their little spell.
“Rascal,” Mick greeted the concierge that I’d put to sleep. “This is Maggie Park who I was telling you about.”
Rascal yawned when he saw me. He lifted his fist to cover his mouth and shook his head saying he didn’t recognize me.
“Is Georgette up there?” Mick asked.
“Gosh,” Rascal yawned. “I’m sorry. I have no idea why I’m so tired.” He closed his eyes tight and reopened them. “She came in late last night and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Get some rest, buddy.” Mick smacked Rascal on the arm and we headed to the elevator.
Mick didn’t need Rascal’s key to get us up to the penthouse. He had his own key to do that. Before I’d started to work for SKUL, I had no idea how agents and spies worked. They had access to so much.
The elevator opened up to the penthouse floor right in front of Angela’s door. Mick knocked a couple of times before we heard the locks on the door unlock and Georgette stood on the other side with a big carrot stuck in her mouth and a bag of them in her hand.
“What do you two want?” She bit down and chomped. The spell had been reversed but it didn’t do much on her appearance. Her hair was messy, she had on a pair of pajamas and a pair of slippers.
“We’ve come to talk to you,” Mick said.
“I’ve told all the cops everything I know,” she said, shoving a carrot in her mouth and shutting the door before Mick stopped it with the toe of his shoe.
“We aren’t cops.” He nudged me. “Flash her your badge.”
“Oh, yes.” I dug down in my purse and hunted around for the badge. “I’m sorry.” I threw my purse toward Mick so he could hold it and I could dig deeper. “It’s in here somewhere.”
I lied. I kept the badge in Vinnie. Deep within my purse, I snapped my finger and pulled out the badge that’d magically appeared at the bottom of my purse.
“We are here with SKUL.” He made it sound so much better than just being a cop.
“Whatever.” She pulled the door open and walked back into the penthouse.
We followed her. There were squares of all different sizes that were wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.
“Are these Angela’s paintings?” Mick asked.
“Yes.” Georgette chomped down on another carrot.
“The gallery wants them back as soon as possible so as soon as the curator comes then I’m going to get out of here myself and head back to New York.”
“You live in New York?” I asked and dragged my finger along the tops of the packaged paintings.
“Yes. Why?” she asked with a snarl on her face.
“It seems that if you were Angela’s assistant that you’d live with her in Paris.” I simply stated a fact.
“Angela lived in New York. All of this Paris bullshit was just that.” She shook her head and flung herself down on the couch. “Trust me, there’s a lot about her that you don’t know.”
“Oh, yeah.” Mick played along. “Why don’t you tell us.”
“Why should I?” She curled her legs up under her knees.
“I don’t know, maybe to help us not think that you killed her.” I threw it out there to see if she’d take the bait.
“Like I had anything to do with killing her.” She rolled her eyes. So much for taking the bait. “I have an alibi.”
“Where did you go missing to yesterday?” Mick asked.
“I’ve been right here, wrapping up the paintings.” Her stare was blank, she never blinked. “You mustn’t have been looking too hard for me.”
I wanted so desperately to remind her that she followed me in her car the other day and she wanted to know who killed Angela. I remembered her saying that she had information that could help.
“Do you know anything about who or why anyone would want to kill her?” I asked and sat down next to her. I pointed to the bag of carrots. “May I?”
“Sure.” She shifted the bag toward me and I took one. “I know that she was in some big insurance problem.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“I don’t know. She was awfully private about it. I overheard her talking about if the painting is discovered, she’d be ruined. And how somebody was demanding all of this money from her.”
“Franklin Bingo?” Mick asked.
“That’s it. Franklin Bingo. He’d come to see her and they fought. After that was when she changed.” Her eyes popped open. “He showed up here the other day.”