Body at the Crossroads

by Cate Martin

"Indeed," Brianna said, and the way the hand she held behind her back was brushing her skirt, I just knew she was holding that wand again.

  "It's broad daylight," I added. "But just who are you taking us to see?"

  "I have a friend, an old friend, who's in the trade," Edward said, his eyes suddenly as evasive as Brianna's.

  "The trade?" Sophie repeated.

  "Stolen goods. Mostly jewelry. Among other things," Edward said. "Point is, if anyone finds anything like that amulet, if they try to move it, Otto will know."

  "What about Ivy?" I asked.

  Edward glanced over his shoulder up at the hulking mansion behind him. "Ivy can wait," he said.

  "Great," Sophie said, reaching out to take his arm one more time.

  "Let's go."

  Chapter 18

  Miss Zenobia's Charm School for Exceptional Young Ladies was located almost at the very end of Summit Avenue, or perhaps it would be considered the beginning, in front of the steps of the cathedral. In 2018 the avenue took a turn past a little park before ending in Kellogg Boulevard, a road through the city that was bigger by far than even the highway that ran past my hometown.

  In 1927 it was a little different. The buildings were lower, making the cathedral seem taller by comparison. The streets were the domain of a different sort of car, and the people passing on the sidewalks all looked overdressed in the warmth of the day to my eyes.

  I felt overdressed myself, and desperate for a bottle of water. Something I was unlikely to find here. I met be able to procure a drink of water, but I doubted my body was going to cope well with 1927 water treatment standards.

  If they even had any. I was suddenly finding all sorts of holes in my historical knowledge. But high school wasn't meant to prepare anyone for this sort of thing.

  Edward led us away from the shops and restaurants, towards the warehouses and docks closer to the river. The people around us were changing, and our clothing was standing out more and more as we walked. Even Edward must have felt self-conscious, as he reached up to adjust his hat, changing its jaunty angle to something a bit more menacing.

  I had taken a self-defense class in high school, but that had been a long time ago. I doubted I'd remember much if I needed it now beyond the basics of "kick them in the knee and run." Expecting Edward to defend all three of us was terribly unfair, but I didn't think it would come to that. Not with the surreptitious way both Brianna and Sophie were clutching their wands, hidden in the folds of their skirts.

  I really wondered how Sophie was pulling that off, but then I remembered she had said her magic was based on feeling and hiding. I was starting to believe her on a deeper level.

  Mostly, I was regretting my choice in shoes. The straps were going to make it tough to ditch them in a hurry, and I knew I'd never make it far running over these cobblestone roads with those heels.

  Edward turned us down a short, narrow road that ran between two more populous ones. I would almost have called it an alley but for the busy restaurant on one side, the crowd spilling out into the street, filling the space between the taller buildings with aggressive noise.

  I didn't see any women in that restaurant.

  "I should do the talking," Edward said to us in a low voice.

  "He's your friend," I said.

  "Yes, an old friend," he said in a way that left me feeling like I was missing part of his meaning.

  "Are we in danger?" I asked.

  "No, it's fine," he said, but I could see sweat trickling down his temples that hadn't been there before, and most of our walk had been in the shade.

  "We're here if you need us," Sophie said. If he found that odd he didn't say so, just gave her a grateful nod then pressed on, past the crowd gathered around the open doors of the restaurant down into what really was an alley.

  The stink of stale beer took me by surprise. Mr. Brown's talk of bootleggers had reminded me that we were in prohibition times.

  Bathtub gin was one thing, but beer had been all but unobtainable.

  But perhaps it was an old, lingering aroma because in all honesty it was almost completely overwhelmed by the smells coming from the piles of rotting vegetables and the miasma of urine flowing out of the darker corners.

  "This had better be good," Sophie grumbled as she fell against me in her quest not to step in any of the puddles and ruin her lovely shoes.

  Edward glanced back at us and briefly touched a finger to his lips then waved for us to follow him down a narrow, steep flight of stairs into the darkness of a cellar under the restaurant.

  Remember how I wasn't anxious to explore the cellar under Miss Zenobia's house? I was even less enthused about this one. But clearly Sophie had no problems with cellars; she kept a firm grasp on my arm linked with hers as we ducked under cobweb-strewn beams.

  The floor was sloped, scarred with the traces of past beer puddles that had long since run away over the many years the restaurant above had been serving customers who were looking for cheap food near the river. I wondered just how old it was. The building above wasn't particularly remarkable, but this basement felt old.

  Hey, was I starting to feel things?

  I looked over at Sophie, whose eyes were still fixed down as she stepped carefully. "What do you feel here?" I whispered.

  "Old place," she whispered back. "Also, bigger than it looks. There's more to it. So much more. Like a cobweb that spread out under the whole city."

  "Those caves Coco was talking about?" I wondered.

  "Maybe," Sophie said. "Might be connected with the sewers as well."

  "I definitely don't want to explore any of that," I said, and Sophie gave me a little smile of agreement.

  Edward looked back at us and touched his finger to his lips again. Sophie rolled her eyes, but I repeated his gesture and nodded in agreement.

  Mostly I was thinking, the center of the web was where the spider lurked. And that was just where we were.

  The top half of the room with the low beams had been largely open space, being directly under the restaurant with its apparently frequent spills. But the lower half of the room looked like a warehouse with crates stacked high against the walls and forming rows across the open floor. It seemed orderly as we passed down the center of the room, like library stacks on either side of us, but the more imaginative part of my brain had no problem creating an entire labyrinth twisting around us, luring us in then interlocking behind us.

  We'd never get out.

  Then Edward stopped so suddenly that I collided his back then stumbled backward until Sophie caught me. The last row of crates reached nearly to the ceiling, creating a walled off space, the only narrow opening mostly blocked by Edward's wide shoulders. But I put a hand on his back for balance and rose up on tiptoes. I could see a man in a flat, shapeless cap leaning against a table. He appeared to be examining some object in his hands as three burly men stood in a row in front of him.

  "It won't happen again, Otto," one of the men with his back to us said.

  "Oh, I know it won't, Stevie," the man in the flat cap said, holding the thing in his hands up to the dim bulb that hung from a long line from the ceiling above. I still couldn't tell what he was holding.

  Edward looked back over his shoulder at me, then pointedly at the hand I was resting on him, and I dropped back onto my heels, letting my hand drop away.

  "You know what this is, right?" Otto asked. The others mumbled unintelligible answers. "Who knows?" Otto asked. "Stevie? No? Liam? Surely you know, Liam."

  "It's a shillelagh," Liam said.

  "Correct! It's a shillelagh. And what do you use a shillelagh for? Come on, any of you! Tommy. What does it look like it's for?"

  I heard a sound, like something whistling through the air. Something heavy.

  "Busting skulls, I'd reckon," Tommy said.

  "Indeed, you are correct. Busting skulls. Now, do you fellows need to see this in action now, or will you trust me that I know my business?”

  "You know your business," Liam
said.

  "Indeed I do, Liam. Indeed I do," Otto said, and the object whistled through the air again. "But busting skulls is not my business, is it, fellows? No, that's just… let's call it a hobby."

  The men mumbled more words too low for me to catch. Then Otto stopped pacing back and forth, and his voice got lower, but still had the power to carry to my ears.

  "Put some of the boys on watch," he said. "This won't happen again. It shouldn't have happened in the first place. What was the point of crafting this intricate organization if parts of you are going to forget that the other parts of you are out there? Use the boys. They're good workers."

  "Yes, boss," the men said as one. Edward stepped back, making a bar of his arm to herd the three of us behind him as if he could hide us from the sight of the three ruffians. They each leered at us in turn, but not one of them lingered or spoke a word.

  "Who's loitering outside my door now?" Otto demanded.

  "Edward Scott," Edward said, barking his name out like he was at army roll call.

  "Edward Scott?" Otto repeated. "Edward Scott doesn't show his face around these parts anymore, does he? I should check my whisper network."

  "You should," Edward agreed. "And while you're at it, you can ask why it is no one has ever asked what a fine German fellow like yourself is doing trying to scare people with a shillelagh."

  Otto laughed, a great booming laugh that echoed through the crate-made corridors around us.

  "Get in here, you old dog," he said, and Edward stepped into the room. He glanced back and made the smallest of beckoning gestures for the three of us to follow him into the room.

  This was clearly the inner sanctum, I realized as we stepped inside and I could finally see something outside of the patch of light the bulb threw on the table in the center of the room. There were smaller crates, the lids open to show the contents. Silver tea services, forks, knives, spoons, candlesticks. Entire jewelry boxes full of jewelry as if some thief had taken the entire thing from someone's dresser without bothering to empty it of its contents.

  And so many bottles of alcohol. I supposed it might be watered down, but it still had to be worth a fortune in this time.

  "Edward, you've done well for yourself," Otto said, looking us over in a manner that was only a smidge less aggressive than the three men who had just left. I was starting to feel like I was going to need several showers when we got back home.

  "They're not with me," Edward said. "I'm helping them with a thing. Otto, may I introduce Amanda Clarke, Sophie DuBois, and Brianna Collins. Ladies, this is an old schoolmate of mine, Otto Mayer."

  "Schoolmates? Is that what we're calling it?" Otto asked, raising an eyebrow at Edward before crossing the room to bring Sophie's hand to his lips.

  I couldn't help notice he still had the shillelagh in his other hand. It was an ugly looking weapon. No elegance, just bashing, and pain.

  I flinched away from the sudden memory of the back of Cynthia's skull.

  Had he done this? And now here we were, in the center of his web?

  I think I was hyperventilating, or looking particularly pale maybe, but either way, Edward sensed my growing panic even as Sophie looked down her nose at the man in a shapeless, flat hat and grungy work clothes who was looking up at her as he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.

  "There from Miss Zenobia's Charm School for Exceptional Young Ladies,” Edward said suddenly, too loudly. "New students," he added more softly.

  "Really," Otto said, stepping back from Sophie. "Respect. All respect." He looked from Sophie - still mustering all the haughtiness she had inside of her, which was a lot - to me and then to Brianna, who to my surprise actually had her wand out. Had she panicked even more than I had?

  "We need your help," Sophie said. "We're looking for an amulet and Edward here says you might be able to help us. Can you help us?"

  "I'll do all I can," Otto said. "What does it look like?"

  "I've drawn a picture," Brianna said, brandishing a page torn from her book. Otto took it from her and studied it carefully.

  "No, I've not seen this. Gold?"

  "Silver," Sophie said.

  "No, I've definitely not seen it," Otto said, with what sounded like genuine regret. "I'll keep an eye out. More than that, I'll put word out. If anyone anywhere on either side of the river tries to pawn something like this, if any of my boys even see someone walking around with something like this in their possession, I'll know about it."

  "And?" Sophie prompted.

  "I'll get word to Edward," he said. "Edward can get word to you, right?"

  "We'll be in touch with Edward," Sophie said. "This is tremendously important," she added.

  "Of course it is," Otto said, and despite the chill of the deep cellar he appeared to have broken out in a fresh sweat. "Of course it is if you're looking for it. I won't let you down."

  "Thank you," I said, finally finding my voice. "We should be getting back."

  "Of course," Edward said. "See you, Otto."

  "Yeah, see ya," Otto said, still examining Brianna's drawing.

  Once again when we emerged back into the light of day, the sun seemed almost painfully bright.

  "He changed his tune in a hurry," Sophie observed as we headed back towards Summit Avenue.

  "You're new, so I don't suppose you know," Edward said. "The school has a bit of a reputation."

  "We got a sense of that from Mr. Brown," I said.

  "Oh, that's one thing," Edward said. "The society types have definite opinions, no question. But the other thing is, you never have to fear being robbed or bothered in any way. No one will ever put a finger on any of you or disturb that house in any way. Now that you've been seen by Otto word will spread. Everyone will know who you are and where you live. You could walk through the docks at midnight on a moonless night, and no one will dare trouble you."

  "I can't imagine why I'd want to do that," I said, "but thanks. It sounds like taking us to Otto accomplished a couple of things."

  It was late afternoon by the time we were back on the front porch of the charm school, which still seemed as empty as ever.

  "Thank you for all your help today," I said to Edward.

  "Yes, it was nice meeting you," Sophie said, shaking his hand. Even Brianna almost looked him in the eye.

  "It was no trouble, no trouble at all," Edward said, taking my hand last. He was about to release it when a sudden thought had him squeezing me tighter. "You'll be in touch? So we can pass information back and forth and such?"

  "Of course," I said.

  "Not that we need a reason to see each other again," he added, then seemed to realize he was still holding my hand.

  It seemed a lot colder under that oak tree after he let me go. He slipped his hands into his pockets as if he felt it too.

  Then he looked up past the tree to the house next door. "I suppose," he said.

  "Yes, Ivy," I agreed. "She's waited long enough."

  He turned to head back down our front walk, but his eyes lingered on mine for an extra second or two, twinkling with a kind of mischief out of the corners, almost out of sight under the brim of his hat.

  Then I ran to catch up with Brianna and Sophie as they strolled along the stepping stones to the back garden.

  Time to go home.

  Chapter 19

  I didn't know about Brianna and Sophie, but having missed lunch and had nothing but coffee for breakfast I was starving by the time I blinked and found we were back in 2018. Mr. Trevor was standing in the solarium, staring out into the back garden, and gave us a happy wave as he saw us suddenly there.

  "I suppose he was worried," I said. "We were gone most of the day, and it was our first trip."

  "We should have worked out a way to contact that Tabitha person," Sophie said. "In case something happens and we get stuck in the past."

  "Yes, we should ask him," I agreed. Brianna didn't seem to hear us, trailing far behind as we followed the stepping stones around the side of the house t
o the front walk. She was turning pages in her little book and mumbling to herself. I couldn't hear the words, but the cadence sounded like she was questioning and answering herself.

  "At last," Mr. Trevor said when he'd thrown open the front door to let us in. "I've made chicken and dumplings. It was meant for lunch, and while the soup keeps just fine, the dumplings were starting to get a bit dry."

  "That sounds fantastic," I said. "I'm just going to run upstairs and change back to my normal clothes first."

  "Me too," Sophie said, with a bit less enthusiasm.

  Brianna said nothing, but she stayed trailing behind us until we reached the second floor. Sophie and I were nearly to the attic before we realized we had lost her.

  "Library," Sophie guessed. "Just leave her for now. She's clearly working on something she needs to finish before we can properly talk to her."

  "I'll bring her clothes down for her just in case," I said, carefully hanging my 1927 dress back in the closet, smoothing out the skirt so that it didn't wrinkle.

  I had never gone to prom, and I had worn my only skirt under my graduation gown, one that had been my mother's before it was mine. If I let myself start going through that closet properly, to really think of those things as being mine, I don't know what would happen. It would be like one of those montages in a movie where the poor girl gets to shop to her heart's content; only it would take longer than an abbreviated cut from a pop song to process it all.

  And I had a murder to solve.

  When I was back in my normal clothes, I watched Sophie touch her hair, one quick stroke that had it all back in place. Then I gathered up Brianna's discarded things and the two of us headed down to the library.

  Brianna was at the large table, dancing from one end to the other as she consulted a paragraph from this book, an illustration from another, always looking back to the little book in her hand and talking to herself. It wasn't so much her low volume that made it impossible for me to understand her. I had never heard anyone speak at such a speed before and in truncated sentences. Like she only needed to start a thought and then hop on halfway through to start the next one.