Mixed Signals

by Jane Tesh

  “Wendy,” I said, “you know anybody named Bert who might have been friends with Jared?”

  “The only Bert I know is on ‘Sesame Street.’”

  I gave Tor a break and waited until Camden and Wendy were further down the aisle. “Are you expecting Brooke this morning?”

  He looked disgusted. “I was expecting her last night. She was supposed to meet me here and pay me, but she never showed.”

  “But the Avenger didn’t foil a robbery last night.”

  “That doesn’t stop her from making up stories. She still owes me, and, by the way, so do you. Where’s my five thousand?”

  “Thought I’d wait and make sure your superhero days were over.”

  “Yeah, they’re over. It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”

  Nothing could be less glamorous than Tor in his Avenger suit. “So you’re back to the calm of the comic store?”

  Before Tor could answer, Camden gasped and suddenly rocked back as if someone had punched him hard in the chest. Wendy was close enough to catch him.

  “Whoa! What gives?”

  “Shot,” he said.

  “Shot? Who? Where? We didn’t hear any shot.”

  Tor leaned over the counter, open-mouthed. I helped Wendy sit Camden down. “He means someone was shot, and he intercepted the feeling.”

  Camden held one hand to his heart and breathed heavily. “Same one.”

  Wendy pushed back her tangle of red curls. “This person’s been shot before?”

  “This person’s killed before,” I said. “Anything else?”

  Camden grimaced. “A really gross sense of satisfaction.”

  Wendy couldn’t believe it. “Cam, are you linked to this killer?”

  “Only when he kills.”

  “Cool!”

  I almost expected Tor to leap up on the counter and declare, “This is a job for the Parkland Avenger!” but he didn’t.

  Wendy continued to gush. “This is amazing! It’s like you have super powers. Can you tune into the killer and see who it is? Can you see his victim?”

  “No, just what they’re feeling.”

  “I’ve never seen you do anything like this. Does it happen often?”

  “These episodes have been particularly intense. I can’t figure out why.”

  “The killer must have a super strong mind. Oh, here, lean back on me till you catch your breath.”

  “It was Brooke,” he said. “Brooke’s been shot.”

  Behind me, I heard Tor gasp. “Is she all right?”

  “I think so.”

  I hauled him up. “Let’s go check.”

  Tor was shaking. “I could be next.”

  Wendy frowned at him. “Why do you think that?”

  “Now’s your chance,” I told Tor.

  He took a deep breath and revealed his secret identity. “Wendy, I am the Parkland Avenger.”

  We could hear her laughing all the way out to the car. I put Camden in the front seat. “You okay?”

  “Sure. I’ve been stabbed, strangled, and shot. I feel fine.”

  “Is it the same man?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re not getting anything else?”

  “Just his happy thoughts. My God, this guy is sick.”

  As much as I wanted to solve this on my own, I wondered if this was the time to involve the police. “Do you want to call Jordan?”

  “You know what he always says. Any sort of psychic information doesn’t hold up well in court.”

  “Maybe he knows something that could help. But let’s check on Brooke first.”

  ***

  Jordan was at the emergency room desk when we arrived.

  “What happened to Brooke?” I asked.

  “The initial report is Ms. Verner’s attacker was a random drive by shooting,” Jordan said. “Someone opened fire in the parking lot of the Herald. She may or may not have been the target.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “They tell me she’s in stable condition.”

  Camden let his breath out in relief. “It’s the same man, and it isn’t Boyd Taylor.”

  Around us, the waiting room swarmed with crying babies, people clutching bloodstained bandages, people coughing. Jordan motioned for us to follow him outside to a quieter place away from the door. His frown deepened. “Okay, listen up. Everything in our investigation points toward Boyd Taylor. Cam, I believe you, but you know how my colleagues feel about psychic information. About the same way they feel about the Parkland Avenger.”

  “That’s no longer a problem,” I said.

  Jordan raised his eyebrows. “Oh? You’ve decided to come clean?”

  “As of last night, the Avenger’s no longer avenging.”

  “I don’t want to know how you know that, Randall. Besides, this latest attack is more pressing. Fortunately, Ms. Verner is still alive, and as soon as I hear from the doctors, I plan to ask her some questions. You, however, will not ask her any questions. You will stay away. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Jordan, Brooke’s a friend of mine,” Camden said. “If she can help me find her attacker, then I’ll need to talk to her.”

  Jordan steamed silently for a moment. “Have you got a picture of his next victim in your head, an address, anything?”

  “No, unfortunately not.”

  More steaming. “You can talk to her, but only after I’ve finished.”

  ***

  The doctors wouldn’t let us see Brooke, so we went home. Camden paced the island.

  “This is so frustrating. Why can’t I see who he is, or something useful that would stop him, instead of getting all the reruns? There must be something I can do.”

  “You can stop walking around like that. You’re making me dizzy.”

  He flopped down on the sofa. “Damn stupid visions.”

  “There must be a reason you’re having trouble controlling them this time.”

  “It’s because I’m submerging all my murderous tendencies.”

  “That’s what I think of when I look at you: cold-blooded killer.”

  “I do not want to sit here and wait for the next toxic wave.”

  My cell phone rang. “Don’t go surfing yet.” I answered and heard a firm young voice.

  “Mr. Randall, this is J.C. Chapman from Royalle’s Fine Jewelry, if you’ll recall. I have some information that—oh, be quiet, Sim, I know what I’m doing. Excuse me, Mr. Randall, but Sim Johnson seems to think I should tell Mr. Royalle this first, but I’m worried about what he’ll say, so I thought I’d ask you.”

  “What did you want to tell me, J.C.?”

  “Sim and I took some things down to the basement yesterday, and we had to move some boxes. I saw something sparkly, and when I picked it up, it was a ring. I’m almost certain it’s one that was stolen, so if it is, that means the thief got in through the basement, only we didn’t see how. So we started poking around and moving more things, and we found a—I guess you’d call it a cover, like a manhole cover, only made of stone. When we slid it back, we found what looks like an underground passage, which is amazingly exciting, only Sim thinks we should tell Mister Royalle, and I thought we’d better call you, and Sim says I should take the ring to Mister Royalle right away, but if it’s a clue, shouldn’t you see it first?”

  The other tunnel! “Where are you right now?”

  “I’m in the store, of course.”

  “Sim’s with you? Who else is there?”

  “Everybody’s working today.”

  “Can they hear your conversation?”

  “No, we’re in the back.”

  “Stay right there. I’m coming over.” I closed my phone. “That was J.C. at Royalle’s. The
kids found the other tunnel.”

  ***

  We drove to Royalle’s Fine Jewelry, found a parking place in the next block, and went in. Everyone was with a customer, but J.C. managed a wide-eyed look at me.

  “I need to talk to J.C.,” I told Petey, and he nodded.

  I waited until she finished with her customer. Then she led me and Camden to one of the back rooms where the employees kept their coats and dug into a large black bag.

  “Here’s the ring. I’m not really sure if it’s one that was stolen, but it looks like one of those. Should I give it back to Mister Royalle? What if he thinks I stole it? What do I do now?”

  “I’ll give him the ring and explain things.” I was curious about the bag. It looked like the one Emmajean had. “Is that a gym bag?”

  She turned it so I could see the white letters, “PGT.” “Parkland Gymnastics Team.”

  “Are you on the team?”

  “Yes, we were all state champions last year.” Even though no one was around, she lowered her voice. “Do you want to see the tunnel?”

  “That’s why we’re here.”

  Royalle’s basement was neat and well-organized. J.C. pushed a large box aside and showed us the entrance. “Sim and I decided to cover it up again.” She slid the round stone cover over, and we looked into the black depths. “What’s it for? What could be down there?”

  “It may be part of the Underground Railroad.”

  “Oh, wow. Really? That’s cool.”

  “I’m surprised you two didn’t hop down there.”

  “Sim wanted to, but I told him we’d get all grubby, and Mister Royalle would notice. So do you think he knows about it this? Should we tell him?”

  “Yes, we’ll tell him. I don’t know why he doesn’t know.”

  “Oh, he never comes down here. He says he hates being in anything like a cave or a basement. If he needs something, one of us gets it.”

  I’d brought my flashlight. “Well, I’ll have a look.”

  She looked alarmed. “Are you really going down in there?”

  “You stand by in case we yell.”

  “But how will you get out?”

  “It slopes down, see? Be right back.”

  From what I remembered from the map, this tunnel didn’t connect to any other tunnel, but came out somewhere on the side of the building where Petey’s grandfather had drawn the circle his father thought indicated a tree. Sure enough, the tunnel led a short way and then curved to the right. In the curve, Camden and I found a rolled up sleeping bag, a kerosene lantern, and a backpack.

  “These items look far too modern to be from the Civil War,” I said. “I think somebody has found themselves a nice little hiding place.”

  “Alycia.”

  “That would be my guess. We oughta hang around Royalle’s tonight and find out.”

  We followed the tunnel a little further where it sloped up. I pushed on what looked like another stone cover and was rewarded with a shower of dirt and grass. Coughing and spluttering, I pushed the cover aside and poked my head up into the small grassy area inches away from the parking lot. I took a few breaths of fresh air and went back down, replacing the cover overhead.

  “The circle on Petey’s father’s map didn’t represent a tree. It represented the outside entrance to the tunnel, a fact that Petey’s grandfather either forgot to mention, or didn’t want Petey’s father to know. Somehow I can’t imagine Carlton Royalle as a mischievous boy playing around in tunnels.”

  We went back to the basement entrance.

  J.C. and Sim helped us out. “Are you okay?” J.C. asked.

  “Yep.” I brushed the dirt and dust from my clothes. “Okay, it’s official. We now know how the thief got in.” And I had a damn good clue who the thief might be.

  Sim slid the cover over the hole. “Where does the tunnel go?”

  “It comes out in the parking lot.”

  I could tell he wanted to explore it. “What do we do now?”

  “We’ll go explain things to Mister Royalle.”

  Petey was with a customer, and when he’d finished, I handed him the ring. “J.C. found this in the basement, but she was afraid you’d think she stole it.”

  “I’d never think that.” He examined the ring. “Yes, this is one we were missing. Good work, J.C.”

  “She and Sim found something else in the basement. There’s a short passageway that leads out to the parking lot.”

  “From the basement? But how? It has a stone floor.”

  “Someone carved out a hole.”

  “Good heavens!”

  “Years ago. I think your grandfather knew about it, but not your dad.”

  “I never knew that. I don’t ever go in the basement. I’m not good with small enclosed places.”

  “It’ll be a simple matter to close it up. Have someone cement over the cover, and I’ll show you where the other entrance is, so you can have it filled in, too.”

  “You really shouldn’t do that,” J.C. said. “It’s part of history.”

  Petey disagreed. “Something has to be done about it. I don’t want any more robbers coming up through the ground.”

  “I can fix a lock on it,” Sim said. “And if we keep boxes on top, no one can get in.”

  I wondered how Alycia had managed to lift the cover. “How heavy were the boxes on top?”

  “It was just boxes of extra wrapping paper and gift bags,” J.C. said.

  So a tall, strong woman could’ve shoved that aside. “You might want something heavier.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Thy Rebuke Hath Broken His Heart”

  I called the hospital and was told Brooke could have visitors. She was hooked up to several complicated-looking machines, but she was awake and glad to have company. We could stay only ten minutes, so I got right to the point.

  “Who shot you, Brooke?”

  She was trying to keep her eyes open. “I didn’t see anyone. I came out to my car, and that’s the last thing I remember. If I were you, I’d put my money on Chance Baseford.”

  Camden put his hand on hers. “You’re going to be all right.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’re still expecting you for Christmas.”

  She swallowed hard. “I hope I can be there.”

  “If not, we’ll come celebrate here.”

  “Thanks, Cam.”

  Maybe it was almost dying, or Camden’s kindness, or just plain weariness that made her say, “I lied to you, David, about the Avenger. I did hire someone.”

  “I know. Tor of Comic World. Great choice, by the way.”

  “Damn,” she said. “You’re good. And I lied about having information about Jared Hunter.”

  “What didn’t you lie about, Brooke?”

  She closed her eyes. “Wanting a stupid Parkie award.”

  I wanted to ask her more questions, but the nurse shooed us out

  ***

  When we got home, Mom met us at the front door. She addressed me, eyes blazing.

  “When did you plan to tell me Grady called?”

  Uh-oh. “Now.”

  Camden edged past her. “I’ll just go on in.”

  She pulled me into the foyer. “How many times has he called?”

  “One.”

  “You’d better not be lying to me, young man.”

  “Mom, I promise. He called earlier today, and you haven’t been home for me to tell you that.”

  “Well, he called again and wondered why I hadn’t gotten his message.”

  “Great. Now he’s checking up on you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve got to get over this.”

  Maybe I didn’t want to get over it. “He’s ju
st so damn mushy! Even his name’s mush. Grady. What kind of name is that?”

  “And Henry is a studlier name?”

  “He’s everything Dad wasn’t.”

  “Nonsense! Your father could be quite gentle and romantic.”

  “I never saw that side of him.”

  “Well, just because you never saw it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.”

  “So, you’re telling me when no one’s looking, Grady turns into raw meat-eating commando?”

  “David, for heaven’s sake.” She turned away from me.

  “I’m sorry.” What was the trouble here? “I—I miss Dad.”

  She turned back and put her arm around me. “Of course you do. I do, too. Would you please get it through your thick head Grady isn’t a substitute for your father? He’s just a good friend of mine.”

  I wasn’t through sulking. “He said come visit us in Florida. What’s with the ‘us’ crap?”

  “We live in the same building, you big dope. Naturally, you might run into him.”

  “Just so I don’t run into him coming out of your bedroom.”

  “That’s not going to happen. We’re much too careful.”

  “Mom!”

  She laughed. “Honestly, Davey. Do we have to go through the sex talk again?”

  “No, no, please, no.”

  She gave me a hug. Her tone softened. “In case you want to know, the children’s cemetery is very well-kept. The arrangements Kary and I bought look lovely.”

  “I don’t want to know, but thanks, anyway.”

  “I think it would help you if you went down there and saw how nice it is.”

  “There’s no need for that, Mom.”

  She looked into my eyes. “The holidays are the hardest times. Believe me, I know.”

  As far as Lindsey’s death was concerned, every day was a hard time. “There’s no reason for me to go visit her grave.”

  “It might give you some comfort.”

  Why couldn’t she understand there would be no comfort—ever. “It’s a big rock with writing on it. She’s not there. What kind of comfort is that?”

  Mom gave me another hug. “Well, it helps me. You know I can’t get to your father’s grave that often.”