A Conspiracy to Murder, 1865

by T. L. B. Wood

  “Remember what Philo said,” Kipp remarked, his eyes meeting mine. For a moment, the filtered sunlight was captured and caught fire, and his eyes turned red before the flames subsided, and the familiar amber returned. “He will work something out so that he, Fitzhugh, and Juno will be with us. And I bet he will include Peter and Elani, too.”

  I wasn’t aware until that moment that I’d been consciously thinking about moving on in life, but obviously I had. Reaching down, I comforted myself by stroking the top of Kipp’s broad head; the fur was warm and soft beneath my fingertips. He pushed a little closer until his sides were grazing my legs. It was good to be back in a familiar routine, despite the fact a stack of manuscripts needing translation awaited my arrival. My non-traveling job was tedious beyond description.

  “But you are very good,” Kipp said, wagging his tail in an affirmation of my translation skills that was not needed but nice to hear, I suppose.

  A mid-sized SUV rolled past us before slowing with a little toot on the horn. It seemed Peter had a new ride, and as he rolled down the window to give a cheery hello, I approached so that he could dutifully brag on the new vehicle. Like any young guy, he was proud of the acquisition. Fitzhugh was riding shotgun; it had evolved that Peter pretty much took Fitzhugh and Juno to work every day, unless the weather was horrible, and then I crowded my elders along with Kipp into my tiny, battered car. Maybe I needed to stop that considering how much more room they would have with Peter. Grinding my teeth, I recalled Peter had even bought a canine ramp to accommodate Juno. He’d thought of everything while I thought of nothing.

  “Or you could get a nice, new vehicle like Peter,” Kipp observed. “You just don’t like change of any sort,” he concluded. “And that ramp!” Kipp softly whistled in the back of my brain working overtime to provoke me.

  Ignoring him, I leaned in to inspect the interior. Juno gave me a lupine kiss on the side of my face. Inhaling, I appreciated the lingering new car smell. I didn’t like to think of the smells in my car, which had aged over time like some type of noxious, moldy cheese.

  “I got to choose the color,” Elani remarked with excitement and pleasure.

  “And it’s lovely,” I replied. The color was a rich, tobacco brown that had a bronze cast in the light. It reminded me of the color of fall leaves that had just passed their peak of color and had begun to wane but remained beautiful nonetheless. Trying not to smile, I saw Fitzhugh carefully replace his metal “go cup” that obviously contained his morning tea in the convenient cup holder on the molded dash. Since he would not have purchased any such thing for himself, I knew that Peter had thoughtfully obtained it for the elder’s comfort. Peter caught my glance and winked at me.

  I waved them on. Peter enjoyed driving so much that he would appreciate the new car, complete with pristine exterior. My bet was that he would wash it every weekend. Of course, one ride with the lupines and the hair would take over, but that was a part of our relationship with our partners.

  “Like you don’t have hair,” Kipp said, staring at me. “The other day I turned over in bed and realized I had one of your long hairs in my mouth. It was disgusting.”

  Reaching down, I made an exaggerated brush of my jeans with my hand, opening my eyes wide as I did so. “And I am simply covered with your tufts of hair, no matter what I do, big boy.”

  Kipp playfully began to chase me as I ran, jogging lightly. Of course, it took no effort on his part, and he ran me down in less than five seconds and deployed his teeth to give me a pretty uncomfortable nip on the calf of my left leg.

  “Ouch!” I cried. “You are way too rough with the teeth!” I began to vigorously rub my leg, unhappy with Kipp’s natural armament and his use of it unfairly. “What is it with you and the teeth?” I whined, staring at him.

  Growling, he got down on his elbows and began to run in little circles around me, leaning in, acting as if he was going to bite me again. I was acting affronted and serious but inwardly was happy he was feeling so good and having fun. He and Elani needed a play date; he could be rough with her with no consequences since she was as tough as was he.

  A car slowed, and a man called out. “Are you okay?”

  I looked over, and a middle-aged human man was staring, horrified, at the spectacle of Kipp assaulting me. His cell phone was in his hand, and I realized he was about to call the police.

  “Kipp, heel!” I barked, and Kipp immediately complied, flattening his ears and pretending to be submissive. I cheerfully thanked the good citizen for his concern and waved him on.

  “Just wait and see what I’ve got in store later on today,” Kipp threatened. “But I’ll play good for now.” His amber eyes had a disturbing glow, and I had a brief moment of worry as to his intent.

  Technicorps loomed ahead, the building outlined stark white against a vivid blue April sky that was cloudless; the day was already heating up, and I predicted a hotter than usual summer ahead. The carefully maintained gardens stretched to either side and around the back where a towering tulip poplar loomed over a concrete bench discolored by lichens and stains from tree sap. I’d spent many hours beneath that particular tree pondering the mysteries of the universe. Yes, I could move on and had done so many times in my life, but I was comfortable and oddly settled.

  Kipp and I separated; he was headed to his classroom where the young lupines waited. I guess it was a mark of his genius that in a relatively short time, he’d evolved from a primitive world to become a mainstay in our contemporary collective. He and Juno taught the youngsters English, and his highly popular ethics class was open to all. I’d thought about dropping in but feared my presence might make him nervous. I took the stairs to the basement where Fitzhugh waited, having beat me to work since he had ridden in splendor conveyed by Peter’s golden chariot. The fragrance of brewing coffee hit me square on, which meant Mark Elliott was already busy.

  “Good morning,” Mark’s voice rang out.

  I’d been prepared not to like him when he first arrived to work as Fitzhugh’s assistant, drawing an unfairly hasty conclusion that he might just think he was Mr. Wonderful. With wavy hair the color of a wheat field, eyes so blue that one was reminded of the warm waters of the Gulf, and teeth that were suspiciously white, I found his perfection to be a bit much. But he actually was a nice guy and head over heels in love with Suzanne. And all of that suited me just fine.

  “I’m glad you’re back and ready to go at it,” Mark commented, thoughtfully setting a mug of coffee on my work desk.

  The mug was one that had found its way from someone’s kitchen, as a discard, to our little kitchenette. There was a floral design with a black cat arching his way up the side of the mug, the cat’s tail forming the handle. It was pretty awful, and I understood why someone covertly disposed of it, probably in the dark of the night. The scent of the coffee was inviting; Mark had added a splash of cream thinking the brew was a little too strong.

  “That German translation is kicking my butt,” he confessed, laughing. “I think those folks just created a new language and didn’t bother to tell the rest of us.”

  We’d found that there were some jobs at which he was superior and others at which I had mastery. Fortunately, neither of us developed a big ego about being the “best” and we just tossed off manuscripts back and forth until we figured them out. I’d actually never had a work partner who turned out to be as easy going as Mark. As it turned out, I’d been wrong on just about every count where he was concerned. And easy going was a good quality in someone who spent hours translating the exploits of former travelers into modern-day parlance that could be scanned into a computer system for posterity. This was my job between travels and one which made me frequently swear softly beneath my breath.

  A few hours into the morning, he paused at my desk and raised his eyebrows, pointing at the vacant chair nearby. “Can I have a moment?” he asked, as he began to sit. There was no good way for me to say no, so I nodded.

  “I’ve been seeing Suzanne,�
� he began, his eyes meeting mine before quickly darting away to stare at the far wall. I stayed quiet, waiting for him as his eyes examined the paint scheme that Fitzhugh had mandated. Most of the walls at Technicorps were painted in the traditional way of most large companies and were a bland, nondescript, pale, putty color that made one ache for some diversity. In the library, however, the walls vibrated with the deep richness of Victorian hues. I privately applauded Fitzhugh for taking a stand for individuality.

  “It’s become kind of serious and, well…” his voice drifted off.

  I knew he needed help and was gratified he must have felt some safety to seek counsel at my advice counter. “I’ve been married,” I began, hoping that was a good opening.

  “Yeah, Fitzhugh mentioned that one day,” Mark replied. I was pleased he didn’t give the obligatory regrets for my loss; I didn’t need it from him. “I actually would like to, uh, pop the question to Suzanne and wanted a female opinion on what I had in mind.”

  “Okay,” I said, trying to sound neutral. Actually, I was curious and couldn’t wait.

  “Suzanne loves hiking, and we go to Duke Forest as well as some other places nearby. I thought I might ask her while we are out walking, somewhere in nature…the places I know she likes.” He frowned. “But I’m afraid it won’t seem romantic enough, and maybe I ought to take her to dinner or something more formal.”

  I laughed softly. “Take her somewhere she enjoys, and if that is hiking, it will be the perfect spot. I think it’s a very romantic idea.”

  His face lightened. I had validated his first instinct, and that was all he needed. “Thanks, Petra.”

  “So, will you guys stay here or ask for a move?” I asked.

  “Actually, I’ve been approached by the Alpharetta collective; they are working to refurbish and re-energize the whole complex. I’d be made the head of the research and collections division, like Fitzhugh is here.” He shrugged his shoulders good-naturedly. “You and I both know that Fitzhugh won’t give up control any time soon.”

  “Well, that is true. But I would miss you two,” I remarked honestly. Susanne’s loss would be the bigger of the two for Technicorps, because she was so skilled. But it was not my issue to solve and would fall on Philo’s overburdened plate. And it seemed that at some point there would be a new assistant for Fitzhugh, and that always was interesting.

  Eight

  “Hey, help me pull this limb to the street,” I called out.

  It was a workday, unbelievably hot, and I knew I probably smelled…and not like the sweet, alluring fragrance of a tea rose. One glance at the smirk on Kipp’s expressive face told me I was correct. There was a flowing rush of darkness as a cloud shifted position overhead before it moved on and the sun emerged brighter than ever. My eyes squinted half shut as I monitored the atmospheric conditions. Hot, humid days such as this could quickly produce thunderstorms with little to no warning.

  “The guy who took Suzanne’s place is the rudest, most caustic being I’ve ever known,” Philo remarked as he joined me to drag the downed limb to the curb. Kipp followed, pulling another limb, involuntarily growling as he jerked on the debris. Elani danced at the edge of the limb, obviously fighting the temptation to grab the other end and pull against him; the determined look on his face stopped her momentum to play tug.

  My yard was a mess, the result of a mid-summer hurricane season that had been active and seemed to target the Carolinas more than was fair in one summer. Peter, Elani, and Philo had arrived to help me do general clean up. Fitzhugh was occupied painting the front door to the house after I let him select the color, which was a nice, deep green. It didn’t pop but was soothing, and I liked it. And when one is recruiting free labor, it does not do well to be overly dictatorial as to the efforts and results.

  “Worse than Fitzhugh?” I replied, grinning at Fitzhugh, who raised his eyebrows in response. I noticed his forehead was damp with sweat and paused on my way to the rear of my house to check on him. “Do you need a break?”

  “Don’t hover,” he replied, frowning at me.

  A brimming glass of iced tea, the condensation beading up to trickle slowly down the sides of the glass, rested on the porch step, so he had plenty of hydration. He knew his limits…at least I thought he did, and I forced my thoughts away from his past cardiac issues. On the other side of the glass storm door, Lily dragged her striped body and back and forth as she meowed at Fitzhugh. Next to Kipp, he was her current favorite. I’d always thought cats to be rather fickle with their affections, but she was remarkably consistent. I knew I was only needed for bodily warmth, so I accepted my low status in the household. Rejoining Philo, I walked towards Peter, who was using a chain saw he’d borrowed from a friend. I’d wondered, when he first arrived with the saw in hand, if I needed to keep a phone in my pocket to call 911 when he managed to cut off a leg. But he’d proved to be extremely competent with the machine and made fast work of some very long branches that had fallen. I was impressed but didn’t want him to get cocky and careless, so I kept my applause silent.

  “You know that in all these recent transfers between collectives, some traveling pairs were sent our way since we are down in our quota,” Philo said, stopping to pull out a bandana and wipe his face. “So just when we need Suzanne the most since she is the best in the business, they send Karl, who perpetually seems to have an attitude and wants to argue with everything proposed.” He frowned. “I’ve been called down to the workshop ten times in the past two weeks to mitigate conflict resolution.” Tucking the bandana back in his rear pocket, he glanced at me. “But he is very competent if you can put up with his personality.”

  Philo was at heart a peacemaker and a gentle soul, usually only allowing himself to be irritable with me. His nature explained his current rift with Claire and Silas, since he lacked the oomph for a serious confrontation. He just didn’t like to fight. Smiling, I put my hand on his arm, which was sweaty and covered in sawdust.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I replied. Inwardly I was happy he had at least one individual with whom he could let go, from time to time. We all need a friend like that. As I leaned forward to pull another limb loose from Peter’s growing pile of debris, I thought, with some satisfaction, that I had Kipp and Fitzhugh, as well as Philo, to serve as my safe sounding boards. I was doing well in that category, for once in my life.

  “In any case, I have a meeting with him Monday. I can’t allow Karl to run off our new talent.” Philo reached down to a small table that held a pitcher of tea and poured a glass. The sweat rolled off his face as he almost drained the beverage in one swallow. “The new pairs are not as experienced as you and Kipp but definitely have several important trips under their collective belts.”

  “Yeah, I’ve met them, although briefly, when they toured the library. And what’s the latest on a new assistant for Fitzhugh?” I glanced at the old symbiont, who paused, paintbrush hovering in the air, as he waited for Philo’s reply.

  “Well, the word has gotten around about him and it makes it difficult,” Philo replied, deadpan.

  “Good!” Fitzhugh exclaimed. “I don’t need any help. Petra and I are doing fine, just as is.”

  Well, we weren’t, and the work was piling up at an alarming rate. Once Peter had been the assistant in training but now was engaged in other things. Then there was Margaret Shelton followed by Mark. No matter how Fitzhugh felt about the situation, things would change, and probably soon. I glanced at Juno, who was resting in a cool patch of dark shade cast by an oak tree. She had fallen into a deep sleep, her sides rising and falling in a hypnotic rhythm. Her hind legs kicked a little, ruffling the grass bed on which she lay, and gently I peeked inside her thoughts so as not to disturb her. Yes, I know I was being intrusive, but I was starting to do things automatically, just like Kipp. He, with his libertine approach to life, was a corrupting presence, steering me away from all the rules and regulations that had defined all I’d known to be truths. Juno’s dreaming m
ind was reliving a moment in her early childhood, running with her siblings along the side of a flowing river. The sunlight seemed captured by the water and reflected off of the fluid surface much like a wind chime made of dangling crystals, a kaleidoscope flashing on the sloping banks. It was a happy dream, full of color and movement. Carefully I withdrew; Kipp caught my eye and winked, since he knew what I’d been up to. If your best friend isn’t a safe place for secrets, I don’t know who is.

  It was getting late in the day, and the shadows began to lengthen. Although I was not a big fan of hot summers, there was this time, as the afternoon began to wane, when the sounds of chirping, clicking insects intensified, and the birds escalated their activities before becoming still as darkness fell. It seemed to me there was something special about the quietness that preceded twilight. I ushered everyone inside one at a time for a shower; both Philo and Peter had brought changes of clothing. Then, before I hit the shower, I called and ordered several pizzas. TCM had a scheduled showing of North by Northwest, and it would make for a fun evening.

  Later, as Cary Grant tried to elude assassins while galloping over Mount Rushmore and dangling off George Washington’s left nostril, I noted that Philo had nodded off, his chin bobbing on his chest. Fitzhugh followed my gaze and his lips tightened. Unexpectedly, and without invitation, his thoughts entered my head.

  “We’ll take care of him,” he said. The thought flowed as did Kipp’s, becoming a natural part of my mind.

  My eyes opened wide in surprise at Fitzhugh’s breach of symbiont protocol and manners, since he’d failed to politely knock at my proverbial door before coming inside, uninvited. He smiled in response. Kipp, from his vantage point on the floor, was a part of the triangle, since he’d registered Fitzhugh’s thoughts, too.

  The movie ended, and Peter and Elani, after whispered goodbyes, quietly exited, their SUV purring quietly down the street, its tail lights glowing red in the black of night. Gently, I touched Philo’s shoulder; if he kept at it, his neck would have a crick for a week.