Seer in Starlight

by Amanda Hartford

  We found an open space at the far edge of the clearing, well away from the rest of the crowd. Before Cody even had a chance to put the duffel down, I started unpacking the telescope.

  I pointed at a ridge on the eastern horizon. "This is great! The moon will come up right behind there. The mountain will block the light for us, at least for a while.”

  Cody was impressed. “You have this all planned out.”

  I smiled. “It’s what I do.” Why was I suddenly feeling shy?

  “I see that now. I’m really sorry for what I said the other night. I had no right to make fun of you.”

  I was determined not to pry into his mind — this was a date, not an interrogation — but I couldn’t help but feel his embarrassment. I kissed him on the cheek to let him know that he was forgiven.

  Cody was so surprised he nearly lost his footing in the gravel. By the time he caught his balance, I was back to fiddling with my telescope.

  “We have a double feature tonight,” I said. I gestured to the south.

  Cody glanced where I was pointing. Low in the sky, about the width of his hand above the horizon, was a brighter star.

  “Take a look,” I said softly, just behind his ear.

  Through the telescope’s eyepiece, the object was red. Cody thought he could make out streaks on its surface.

  “Mars,” I said. “Can you make out the white spot at one end? That’s the polar…”

  “Lights out in five minutes,” a ranger called out.

  I stepped away from the telescope and opened the duffel. I pulled out a big flannel blanket and spread it in the sand.

  “Are you ready to eat?” Cody asked, offering the picnic supper bag.

  I pulled two plump pillows from the duffel and plopped down on my back. “Let’s wait a while. The main event is about to start.” I patted the blanket beside me.

  “I thought you watched through the telescope,” Cody said.

  “The telescope is for getting close up. Meteor showers are about the big picture.”

  Cody eased himself down onto the blanket. Just as he settled his hips into the soft sand, two shadows swooped low over our heads. He leaped to his feet again.

  I giggled. “It’s just the bats,” I said. “There’s a cave up at the end of the loop.” I reached over and took his hand. “They won’t eat much, city boy,” I teased.

  “Lights out, folks,” the ranger called out. “Dark sky, please. I’ll be back at three to bring you out.” He walked around the perimeter of the circle, switching off the battery lamps. One by one, the people sitting around the clearing extinguished their lights.

  I drew Cody back down next to me. Stars invisible in the city carpeted the black dome of the sky as silence fell over the clearing.

  We settled onto the blanket. I felt his mind turning toward me as he took my hand.

  “There's Perseus," I whispered, pointing at a spot in the northern sky. As I did, a single tiny pinpoint twinkled near the center of the constellation. "Showtime."

  As I started to turn my head in Cody’s direction, a burst of light blasted across the sky directly above us. I pointed, sucking in my breath. “Here we go.”

  I knew all the scientific explanations for what we were seeing. The pinpoint streaks were space dust; the ones with long, comet-shaped tails were rocks as big as boulders vaporizing as they hit the atmosphere at unimaginable speeds.

  I forced myself to turn my mind off, not to explain. I didn't want to think about science: I didn't want to read anybody's mind. I wanted just to enjoy this. I wanted to share this with Cody.

  The meteors were coming faster now, one or two a minute, cosmic fireworks against the blackness. A big shooting star trailed across the arc of the sky before it winked out just above the horizon.

  “Pretty amazing, huh?” I whispered.

  Cody leaned up on his elbow and looked down at me, his eyes shining. “Pretty amazing.”

  Chapter Five

  I slept in on Monday morning. I woke up around eight for a quick bathroom break, but I heard water running in the pipe in the walls and realized that all of my neighbors were already up, showering and getting ready for work. There’d be no hot water left, so I crawled back under the blankets with a novel and fell right back to sleep.

  The next time I woke up, it was after eleven. I cleaned my apartment — it wasn’t much of a chore, considering how small the place is — and checked my messaging app again.

  Finally, I gave in and hit social media. Cody didn't have a Facebook page, and I couldn't find him anywhere else, either. When I thought about it, though, I suppose that it made sense: Cody was a cop, so he wasn't likely to put his personal life out there.

  I fixed myself a salad, then ran a few errands. I had to force herself not to check my messages at every stoplight. I told herself that he was probably still asleep; it had been almost 3 AM when he dropped me off. I felt like a teenager with a crush, stalking the cute boy in class online.

  My messaging app chimed around three and I grabbed my phone, but it was just Jack, inviting me for dinner with his usual “I’ll buy if you fly.” I scrolled through my messages one last time, but I didn’t have any better offers, so I texted back that I’d meet him.

  I headed for the airport GPS lot just before four. Monday was homecoming day, with weekend warriors flying in from all over the country. There would be lots of passengers tonight, most of them exhausted and grumpy as they faced the new workweek. The tips would be minimal, but I needed to work; the first of the month was coming up fast.

  Jack’s black Porsche SUV sat in its usual spot near the entrance, and I pulled up next to him. He was already getting the table out of the back of the Cayenne. I blew him a kiss, snatched the $20 bill from his hand and headed for the escalator with minimal conversation.

  I grabbed our usual from Terminal Four and went right back. I wasn't gone more than half an hour, I swear.

  When the Sky Train pulled back into the station, I noticed a lot of flashing colored lights emanating from the lower level, lighting up the station like a disco. Travelers were pressed against the windows on the far side above the GPS lot, watching the action below. I elbowed my way in among them.

  Down in the GPS lot, I could see three police cars, all with their headlights on and light bars swirling. They were clustered around my Prius and Jack’s Porsche Cayenne. The rear hatches of both vehicles were wide open. I didn’t see Jack anywhere.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Somebody said there was a fight down there,” the man next to me said without ever looking my way.

  Calvin, I thought.

  I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a better look. The few inches it raised me up didn’t change my angle of view very much. I didn’t see Jack anywhere.

  I had an even worse view when I got down to ground level. The police had taped off a cordon to funnel the crowd away from the scene of the crime, whatever that crime was.

  I stood helplessly next to a barricade until an officer walked over to me.

  “You can’t stand here, ma’am,” the cop said.

  I pointed at the Prius. “That’s my car — the blue one,” I told him.

  The cop said something into the microphone attached to his collar, and an older man wearing a cheap suit came over to join him.

  “That yours?” he asked, pointing at the Prius.

  I nodded. “What happened?”

  “Please wait here, ma’am,” he said over his shoulder as he turned on his heel and walked back to a uniformed officer who was standing between the two cars. When the cop turned around, I saw that it was Cody.

  He looked up and saw me standing behind the barricade. His expression was flat, and when I tried to read him, I got nothing. His expression didn’t change as he walked over to me.

  “Cody, what’s going on?”

  He started asking questions as if he’d never met me before. “Do you know a Jack Carruthers?”

  My heart jumped up into my throat. "Do you
mean the guy who owns that black Cayenne?"

  Cody nodded.

  “I never knew his last name, but, yeah.” I held up the take-out bag containing our burritos. “We were going to eat together before we went back out again.”

  Cody’s eyebrow went up. “Do you eat together often?”

  I wondered if he was asking as my boyfriend or as a cop, but I couldn't read him, and I wasn't about to ask. "Sometimes. What happened? Where's Jack?"

  “Maybe we better sit down,” he said. He took my elbow and led me to a bench in front of the terminal doors. He nodded toward my car. “He’s over there, between the vehicles.”

  I craned my neck, trying to see, but I couldn’t pick Jack out among the uniformed officers.

  “He's on the ground, Stella," Cody said. I could sense that he wanted to put his arm around my shoulders, but he clutched his notebook instead. "Your friend Jack…" Cody started — I noted the emphasis on the word friend — "I'm afraid your friend is dead. He's been shot."

  “What?” I couldn’t take it in. I shook my head, choking back the tears. “That can’t be right. I just saw him. He gave me money to go pick up the food. I came right back.” I tried to make eye contact with Cody. I could feel him wanting to comfort me, but I also felt him raise the wall. He was in uniform, he was working this case, and he had a job to do.

  “I wasn’t gone that long,” I whispered, trying not to sob.

  “Long enough,” Cody said. “Did Mr. Carruthers say anything to you before you left?”

  I thought about it and shook my head.

  “Have you seen that guy around tonight, the one from the other night?”

  “Calvin.”

  Cody was making notes. He clearly wished he'd taken the fight more seriously the other night. “Last name?”

  “No idea. It’s like with Jack — a lot of us are just on a first name basis. We just know each other from the lot.”

  “Did you see this Calvin tonight?”

  “I didn’t notice him, but if you check with the rideshare companies they can tell you where he was.”

  “Did Mr. Carruthers have any problems with any of the other drivers?” Cody asked.

  “Not that I know of.” Cody wrote it down.

  “What about the cameras?” I asked. “You said the other night that there were cameras.”

  Cody frowned. “There are, but the angle is wrong. We’ll get the footage, but I doubt we’ll be able to see what happened between the cars.” He went back to his notes. “So, tonight: did you see anyone suspicious hanging around?”

  I tried to think. I’d only been in the lot a few minutes before I went for the food run. A lot of drivers were coming and going, but I hadn’t noticed anybody in particular and I told Cody so.

  “Not just drivers,” he said. “We think Mr. Carruthers may have interrupted someone trying to break into your cars.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Rideshare drivers don’t carry much personal gear in their cars, to make room for passengers’ luggage. I could see why someone might want to break into the Porsche, but there was nothing about my car that would indicate to a thief that there was anything valuable inside. I keep my telescope under a blanket on the back deck, up against the back of the seat so there’s plenty of room for suitcases.

  Then it hit me: my telescope.

  Cody’s voice softened. “Yeah,” he said, “they got it. Whoever did this, they emptied out both cars.”

  “And nobody saw anything?”

  Cody shook his head. “Maybe, but this happened fast. Plus, the drivers are scattered all over the city by now. We’ll try to talk to everybody, but it could take a while.”

  I felt both selfish and guilty for thinking about my lost possession when Jack had lost his life.

  I started to rise, but Cody put his hand on my forearm and pulled me back down onto the bench.

  “Here's the thing," he said. "We don't know whether this is a robbery gone bad, or a homicide where somebody decided to help himself to the goodies while he was at it. Until we know that, both cars are part of the crime scene. The detectives have already called the tow trucks. Do you have somebody you can call to give you a ride home?"

  ♦

  Half of the drivers in the GPS lot offered to give me a ride. It didn’t seem right, taking time away from their workday; most of those folks were in the same leaky boat as me.

  I still had the consumer Uber app on my phone from back in college, so I ended up having one of the weirder experiences of my life: summoning a rideshare to drive me home from my rideshare gig.

  I sat in the backseat of Doreen’s little Honda and tried not to cry.

  The last thing Cody said to me as he closed the door of the Honda for me was, “I’ll come by and check on you later tonight, if that’s okay. We’ll be a while here, and then I want to go have a little talk with your friend Calvin.”

  “He’s not my friend.”

  “I know. Sorry, figure of speech. Anyway, once I track him down, I’ll stop by if it’s not too late.”

  His hand was on the open windowsill, and I rested my hand on his. “It won’t be too late. I’ll text you the address.”

  ♦

  I had told Cody to stop by when he was done with work, no matter how late. The timer had turned on the lamp in my living room, but the rest of my apartment was in darkness. I didn’t have to look at the clock to know that it was well after midnight.

  I should be hungry, I thought. Why am I not hungry? I haven’t eaten since Jack and I…

  Jack.

  Cody had made sure that I never got close enough to glimpse Jack’s body on the ground between our two cars. I knew Cody was trying to save me from nightmares, being separated from the death meant that I was having a hard time believing that Jack was gone.

  Truth be told, I didn’t know Jack all that well. I’d never seen him outside the GPS lot. All of our encounters were work related: friendly greeting or quick, shared meal between passengers. Still, it meant something; Jack meant something. When you think about the jobs you’ve had, the places you’ve worked, what you remember first is the people. I was going to miss him.

  I was miserable, so I turned to my favorite form of therapy: cheesecake. I’ve been to those fancy cheesecake restaurants, but I confess that what I crave in times of trouble is the stuff that comes in a box from the supermarket freezer section.

  It takes at least four hours to thaw one of these babies in the refrigerator, but the box says that it will keep for three or four days — not that I’ve ever kept one around long enough to test that theory. I usually have one, thawed and ready in the vegetable crisper, with emergency backups in the freezer. I stock up when they’re on sale.

  I headed for the fridge, but the cupboard — actually, the vegetable crisper — was bare. I’d forgotten to take out a new one last night. Hey, it’s been a stressful week.

  I opened the freezer door, trying to remember the last time I'd actually been to the grocery store. Apparently, it had been quite a while: only one cheesecake box remained on the otherwise empty shelf.

  One was enough. I grabbed it as if it was a life preserver.

  My mother never owned a microwave; she believed the radiation they emit would kill us all. That meant that I acquired a taste for cheesecake in its solid state.

  The first item I bought for my first apartment, even before curtains or a bed, was my own microwave. A single slice of frozen cheesecake can be thawed in less than 30 seconds. I know this because it was the first recipe I tried in that tiny galley kitchen.

  Yes, my eating habits will catch up with me someday. No, I don’t care — and especially tonight. I cut myself a generous slice, nuked it, and carried it to the futon couch in front of my big screen.

  I've seen every Doris Day movie a couple of dozen times, even that one with Ronald Reagan, but especially the musicals. My grandmother and I would snuggle up on her couch, eat cheesecake and sing along with all the songs. It was a simpler time, at least in my wor
ld, and those musicals are my happy place.

  The last thing I remembered was Doris, singing the theme song from By the Light of the Silvery Moon.

  I must’ve dozed off, because the next thing I knew it was 2 AM. The movie had ended and the big screen had timed out to the menu. I looked around to see what had awakened me. It was the ping of a new text from Cody: You still up?

  I texted him back, and he was at my door in less than a minute.

  “Were you sitting out front there when you sent that?” I asked, peering around him at his black SUV parked at the curb.

  “Busted,” he said with a sheepish grin. “May I come in?”

  Cody looked exhausted. He hadn’t even had time to eat, so I fixed him a sandwich and we settled on the futon couch. I saw those amazing eyes crinkle with amusement at the ravaged scraps of cheesecake on the coffee table, but he was smart enough not to say anything.

  “So, what did Calvin say?” I asked, deftly changing the subject.

  “Calvin is nowhere to be found,” Cody said. “He’s in the wind.”

  “He’s disappeared?”

  “For now. The detectives are trying to get access to his rideshare app — that should tell us a lot more. That, and when the forensics come in. We’ve done about all we can do for tonight.”

  I took a deep breath; it was time to say it out loud. “Maybe not,” I heard myself say. “I can do this, this thing.”

  Cody raised his head from his cheesecake and gave me a quizzical look.

  “This thing?”

  “It’s more like a skill.” Oh, how I didn’t want to say this to Cody.

  “A skill. You’re some kind of detective?” Cody sounded skeptical.

  I closed my eyes and just said it before I chickened out. “A psychic.”

  Cody took his arm from around my shoulder and folded his hands in his lap. He studied me. He didn’t say anything for a very long time.

  I finally filled in the silence. “Say something.”