The Gathering

by Mary Bowers

  “Have you ever invited Sparky and his friends to one of these meetings?”

  He stared at me blankly. “No. Why would I?”

  “They’re very interested in your theories. The first day of the conference, they were debating them. Something about the Zig-Zag theory, if I’ve got it right.”

  “You’ve got it wrong,” Paracelsus said. “It’s the Zig-Zag and Swirl Principle, and that’s Lawsonomy, not Questian theory.”

  “Oh, thank you,” I said meekly. “What I mean is, they were having the kind of discussion I can easily picture going on during one of your Questian Society meetings.”

  “Really?” Orwell seemed surprised. “I had no idea. From what I’ve seen those boys do, it seems they’re always tinkering with toys and doing whiz-bang science, just for the sake of amusement.”

  “From what I know of you, you’d find whiz-bang science irresistible,” I said, batting my eyelashes. “And they were quoting from your book.”

  “Really? Perhaps we should invite them to join us, Gavin. Gavin? Oh, that’s right. I am not pleased with Gavin this morning. One of his small jobs – nothing strenuous – is to keep me supplied with little extravagances. And yet you see, he only bought one container of crumpets this morning. No, I’m not pleased with Gavin. He should have known I might have guests.”

  I was glad I’d only eaten one crumpet, but I didn’t bother to hope that Paracelsus would feel guilty for taking the last two. “He did get you the can of frosting,” I said.

  He smiled broadly. “You’re quite right. I’m tired of being miffed. It takes too much energy. I shall make peace with him immediately, as soon as we’ve finished here. I think he’s learned his lesson.”

  “You haven’t invited me,” Paracelsus said suddenly.

  “Eh?”

  “You haven’t invited me to join The Questian Society. If you’re recruiting members, I feel it’s only right that my name is added to the rolls before those of three silly asses whose only claim to fame is a reality show.”

  Orwell stared at him for a moment, caught. A large, overbearing egomaniac like Paracelsus could easily turn any polite gathering into a free-for-all. Still, Orwell said, “I’ll speak to Gavin, and have that oversight corrected immediately. Where is he, by the way? Oh, yes. In Coventry. Well, that’s over. Send him to me when you see him, won’t you? And thank you for coming. It’s been most delightful.”

  It was an obvious dismissal and we left, of course. But I left smiling. I think it would’ve been much more delightful for Orwell if he’d gotten more of the crumpets.

  Chapter 18

  I was still angry with Gavin myself, for the nasty way he’d swiped my cinnamon roll from Orwell and implied that it was poisoned. Before I looked for him, I decided to see what results the boys in the lab had gotten, if any. I looked around for Jack Peterson and saw him back by the kitchen door, in conversation with another cop. I waved and made my way over to him with Bastet in my arms. I was finding that it was much easier to move through a crowd while holding her. Everyone stepped aside as if we were contagious.

  “Hey, Jack,” I said. When he saw me coming, the other cop had backed away, and I didn’t have to interrupt. He made a slight bow as he moved away and I nodded back. Then he bowed again, this time while looking right at me, and I realized the first bow had been for Bastet. Real comedians, these local cops.

  “About that cinnamon roll I brought to Orwell yesterday, any results on it yet?”

  “Lab results take weeks, Taylor, not hours, unless they know exactly what they’re looking for.”

  “They were looking for cyanide, right?”

  He smiled. “Right, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “And the results?”

  “Negative.”

  “Yup,” I said, and I could hear him laughing behind me as I walked away.

  I took a quick glance around the hall and Gavin was nowhere in sight, but I caught Purity’s eye. Her booth was just a few steps away, and I went over to see how she’d survived the adventures of the night before. She was looking radiant. I realized that Purity had a very pretty face, and I regretted once again that she made herself so ridiculous with her hair, make-up and little-girl dresses.

  “We did good last night, didn’t we?” I said as I caught her eye.

  “The Wee Folk are pleased.”

  “So they won’t be playing pranks on us?”

  “Peace has been restored. Feel free to leave gifts for them on the first day of summer. They will accept them.”

  “What a relief.”

  Okay, so Purity’s personality kind of went with her ensemble. But with a sassy haircut and a pair of tight jeans, and a little less blue eye shadow, she could’ve been a contender. If I ever sensed that she was seriously interested in a man, (somebody eligible), I was going to go ahead and tell her. But not today. She’d been kind of flirty around Sparky’s gang, and I figured that was because of Ricky. I didn’t want Ricky breaking her heart; it was the only possible outcome.

  Revolving these thoughts in my mind, I began to drift around looking for Gavin.

  Instead, I found the last person in the world I wanted to see at ParaCon on this particular day: Michael.

  “What the heck are you doing here?” I asked.

  “Well, hello to you too,” he said, offended. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

  I looked at him deeply, and said, “No you didn’t.”

  “No. I didn’t. But when I read your note and realized you’d brought Bastet to this carnival, I decided you were getting yourself in too deep. This is about the murder, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe.”

  He glared at me, and I said, “Honestly, the correct answer is maybe. I have an idea, but I’m not really sure. There’s a problem I haven’t been able to work out yet, and anyway, just now I’m looking for Gavin Lovelace. Orwell wants to see him.”

  “Then let’s go find Gavin.”

  I knew that look. He was there to protect me, but since I’ve never really felt like I needed a man’s protection, I found myself both irritated and flattered. Even us Amazon Queens like some attention from a knight in shining armor every now and then.

  We finally found Gavin in the café corner of the Activities Lounge, drinking coffee with Pixie. As we approached, I gauged the looks on their faces and figured they’d been grousing about their employer, if that’s what Orwell was. They looked like conspirators, hunkered close to one another in a corner like that, whispering. I had already made the assumption that Gavin had brought Pixie into the Orwell Quest entourage in the first place. It really was just an assumption, but I figured it was a good one, and he had good reasons for it. If I was right, the strategy had failed, and might even backfire. We walked up to the table and they adjusted the expressions on their faces: Gavin became neutral, and Pixie became harmless. It was disconcerting, how quickly they changed.

  I focused on Gavin and said, “Orwell wants to see you. He’s over his tantrum.”

  Gavin inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly. “Yes. He always gets over them quickly.”

  “I bet it rocks your world when he throws one, though,” I said, taking a seat uninvited. I looked up at Michael, and he sat down beside me. “He’s such a sweet guy, normally.”

  They both stared at me, but they didn’t disagree.

  “Is that your cat?” Pixie asked. “The famous one?”

  “I don’t know about famous, but yes, this is Bastet.”

  Gavin stood up so suddenly it startled both me and Bastet. She hissed at him. “Well, I’d better go see what he wants.”

  “My advice,” I said impulsively, putting a hand on his jacket sleeve, “don’t send off those invitations to join The Questian Society until he’s had a chance to think it over.”

  He closed his eyes in agony. “Who does he want to induct now?”

  “Paracelsus. Followed by Sparky, Ricky and Phineas.”

  His body went rigid for a moment and then he
opened his eyes. He muttered something, and I asked him to repeat what he’d said.

  “I said, ‘Standards.’ In order to project the proper image, you have to maintain high standards. I refuse to admit anyone with a name like ‘Sparky,’ and we can’t have people showing up in Halloween costumes.”

  “What do you call this?” I said, pinching the thin, creamy wool of his jacket. “You didn’t just get that off the rack at Suits-R-Us.”

  He gently pulled his arm away until I lost my hold. “You can hardly compare this to full-length doctoral robes from the sixteenth century. It’s a suit. I happen to like the style.”

  He walked away stiffly. I turned to Pixie and said, “So did Queen Victoria.”

  She giggled. The hard-edged persona from the Ladies’ Room was gone, probably because we were in a public place. Or maybe she’d thought it over in the meantime. Before I could decide what I wanted to know from Pixie, we were invaded. Another table was being pulled up close to ours, and Sparky and Ricky fell into chairs while Phineas pulled a chair out for Purity LeStrange and got her seated. She looked up at him adoringly and preened.

  Sadness washed over me, and I felt the last piece of the puzzle fall into place. Now I knew exactly what had happened.

  Bastet looked at me and I gazed at her, wondering how I was going to prove all this. The police wouldn’t have a clue. I was sure of it. From the outside, it would look like there was no connection at all. They didn’t know about people like these. Cops are always looking at the basics: a love triangle, a marriage gone bad, money, drugs. Only on these outskirts of everyday people were there stranger things worth living and dying for. Cops knew nothing about people who would kill to hold onto a way of life that wasn’t even real.

  * * * * *

  I was so shaken by what I now knew that I was mildly surprised when I realized that nobody around me had seen it too. Nobody suspected a thing, not even Michael. He was looking around stoically, not saying anything, and he must have been more confused than he looked. Still, I wasn’t going to be drinking coffee or eating anything at this table with this particular group and neither was Michael.

  To divert myself before somebody could read my mind, I quickly said, “Well, I’m glad to see that you’re all getting along now. After last night, I’m surprised to see you together.”

  “Oh, they’ve apologized,” Purity said. She simpered at Phineas. “When I left Girlfriend’s last night, I found Phineas waiting for me in the alley. He told me how sorry he was about all the trouble they’d caused. Then Sparky popped around the corner looking for him, and he made him apologize, too.”

  “Aw, you know we never meant any harm,” Sparky said. He brushed his hand back across his flame-like hair, making it stand up in spikes. “Sometimes I just can’t help myself. All I can see is that it’s going to be a hoot. I don’t stop to think that it might actually, you know, scare people. I wouldn’t be scared if it happened to me. I’d think it was excellent.”

  “I’m not so sure about that,” Michael said, eyeing him with disapproval.

  Sparky ignored him and gave me an impish look. “You know that book Bastet whacked to the floor a while ago?”

  “Oh, yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “No, don’t be. Bring her out and make her knock things off the table all the time. I just sold that book to some woman for three times the cover price. But I had to make an inscription, complete with date, location and time, verifying that it was the actual book selected by the famous goddess-cat, Bastet. Want me to get you some coffee, guys? My treat. It’s the least I can do. She paid cash.”

  “No thanks. Michael’s already had his, and I just had coffee and crumpets with Orwell and Paracelsus.” Michael didn’t say anything, bless him. A lot was being discussed that he couldn’t possibly have understood, but you’d never have known it.

  Phineas’s face fell. He had been making eyes at Purity, but when he heard what I said, he nearly burst into tears. “He invited Bobby for cake?”

  “S’all right, man,” Sparky said quietly.

  “For cake?” Phineas repeated in a ghostly voice.

  Purity had been seated next to me on my left, and as Sparky tried to console Phineas, she leaned over to me and whispered, “It’s quite significant.” She assumed I didn’t know about Orwell’s philosophy, as expounded in Everything, and went on to explain it. “You can’t have realized how honored you were on Friday when he invited you to join him after his speech,” she said when she was finished.

  “No, I didn’t at the time, but I’m beginning to.”

  “It’s because I lost the debate,” Phineas said miserably. “Every time Gavin interrupted me, it threw me off. By the end I could barely remember my own name. I can’t believe Gavin did that to me. I would’ve held my own, but Gavin kept poking at me, and I got confused. I lost the debate.”

  “No you didn’t,” Ricky said. “Besides, it wasn’t a debate. It was more like a lecture or something. It was interesting. People loved it.”

  “I lost the debate, and everybody knows it. Orwell knows it. He was sitting in the audience, and he saw everything. I’m going to kill Gavin for that.”

  We all gasped.

  Pixie saved the moment by blandly saying, “Good. I’ll help. How do you want to do it?”

  We managed to laugh. Sparky asked Pixie, “Why? What’s he done to you?”

  “He got us both into trouble with Orwell. He only got one package of crumpets, and he wouldn’t have gotten the frosting at all if I hadn’t gone down the baking aisle and gotten it myself. Since I went to Publix with him, Orwell was mad at both of us.”

  “How could he make a mistake like that, after all these years?” Phineas asked with what seemed like genuine anger. “I would’ve never done such a thing. And I used to think Gavin was so great.”

  “Oh, man, don’t you know?” Pixie said.

  “Know what?”

  “Gavin is no friend of yours. He’s the reason your show got cancelled. You know that he was friends with Vanessa, right? I mean before she latched onto Orwell and made herself such a pain in the ass. This was before I arrived on the scene, but Gavin told me all about it. Sorry guys, but he thought your show was crap. His opinion, not mine. I kinda liked it. Anyway, Gavin’s the one that put Vanessa up to it. It was sort of a quid pro quo. You get Sparky and the Gang cancelled, and I’ll get you an interview with Orwell Quest. You didn’t know that?”

  Sparky, Ricky and Phineas were beyond speech. They stared at her as if they couldn’t quite take it in.

  I was the one who asked, “Why would he do a thing like that?”

  “He thinks your image is too commercial. And he doesn’t like your name,” she said to Sparky, taking a sip from her coffee cup. She seemed to be enjoying herself. “He thinks ‘Sparky’ is too stupid to be part of his world, and he knew you guys were getting close to Orwell. He was furious when he found out he was doing an appearance on your show. So he got rid of your show. Problem solved.”

  “Standards,” I murmured, staring at Pixie.

  “And then the whole thing backfired,” Pixie added. “Vanessa got her hooks into Orwell and moved in on them – Orwell and Gavin, I mean. And then she started making noises about dissolving The Questian Society, Gavin’s baby. Partly so she could play up to Orwell, because she knew he didn’t like the Society, partly to take away some of Gavin’s power, but mostly because she thought it was stupid. She wanted Orwell to concentrate on writing another book. She wanted him to have more of an Internet presence, and she was working on getting him over the whole ‘invisible’ thing. She was convinced that once he understood social networking, he’d love it. She wanted Facebook and Twitter, not the League of Stuffed Shirts.”

  “So Gavin was looking for a way to get rid of Vanessa, at the same time she was trying to get rid of him,” I said. “Not a pretty picture.” Bastet became very still in my lap.

  Pixie opened her mouth, but then shut it again, staring over my head.

  I he
ard Gavin’s voice above me, saying, “He wants to see you, Pixie. Not now. He’s resting. Go see him in about half an hour.”

  Before Pixie could respond, I said, “Have a seat, Gavin. We’d like to have a little chat with you.”

  “I’m rather busy just now,” he said, looking around at Purity’s banana curls and Sparky’s fire engine red hair.

  “You might want to have a seat, jerk-off,” Sparky said. “Or should we just go out on the conference floor and grab a cop?”

  “A cop?” Gavin’s face was beginning to darken.

  I turned all the way around in my seat and looked him in the eye. “We’ve been discussing your many motives for murdering Vanessa Court. Care to join in?”

  Chapter 19

  “I suppose you think this is a shock to me,” Gavin said, pretending to be bored. Still, he pulled a chair over and forced it in between myself and Purity. There was a space on the other side of Michael, who was on my right, but Gavin had gone to my left because he didn’t want to sit near Sparky, who was at that end of the table. That put Purity, Gavin and me at one edge of a small, square table, with Pixie opposite us and Phineas at the left end. Ricky was at the adjacent table, opposite Michael. Purity rose with exaggerated grace and sat herself at the corner between Michael and Sparky.

  I began to realize that the Activities Lounge was unnaturally quiet. I was sitting with my back to the room, so I took a look around and saw that there were plenty of people present, they just weren’t speaking. They were staring at us.

  At the mention of a cop, some busybody had gone out to get one, and Jack Peterson came in, made eye contact with me and took a seat at a table just behind us. The couple that had been at that table quickly got up and moved away. I turned around again, so didn’t see how he reacted to the rest of the conversation, but being a trained officer of the law, I imagine he just gave us the blue-eyed stare and registered nothing.