Egg the Halls

by Jessica Payseur

  “Now what?” asked Dom.

  “Shh,” said Martha. “Buddy will direct. Buddy Angus responds to him.”

  “First, you all gotta make sure the circle’s unbroken,” said Buddy. “And now, focus on Buddy Angus’ image in your mind. Really focus. Loud thought processes work best.”

  Kiko obliged, thinking of Buddy’s old cow. Dom couldn’t have had much of a memory of her—she’d died the first day he’d seen her—but Kiko had fond memories of the Brown Swiss that Buddy passed off as an Angus. She had been docile and gentle, a rather sweet mascot.

  He kept waiting for the air to get colder, or a strange noise to grate through the brewery, but nothing happened, so he kept focusing. Dom squeezed his hand again, quick like he was impatient, but Kiko ignored it.

  “Ah, there,” said Buddy after what seemed like forever. “Thought you were going to leave me looking stupid.” He paused. “You can open your eyes and have a good look at Buddy Angus.”

  Kiko did so and followed Buddy’s gaze, but all he saw was a shadow from the candlelight flickering over the side of a kettle. He exchanged a glance with Dom.

  “Eyes closed again. We want the goose here, too. Now focus on Mother.”

  That was easy enough for Kiko to do, but he also felt a wave of sadness. Dom squeezed his hand again, this time using a finger to lightly trace patterns on Kiko’s wrist. The motion was more than a comfort; it stirred the heat under Kiko’s skin and made him want to jump on Dom, grope him through his pants. He took a slow breath and focused.

  Mother had saved his—and Dom’s—life once. It was going to be difficult to not have the little guy wandering around in his diaper. But even his short lifespan had been a good run.

  “Bring the goose, Buddy Angus,” said Buddy, then, “Ah, there.”

  Kiko opened his eyes more quickly than he probably should have. Buddy was looking at the shadows on the kettles again. If Kiko squinted, he could believe some of the smaller ones were a goose with its wings out.

  “Eyes closed, eyes closed,” said Buddy. “You see, Buddy Angus, we brought Kiko so Mother can share a message. Is there anything the goose wants to tell him before passing over?”

  Buddy fell silent and they sat around, palms growing sweaty in each other’s hands, waiting. Even Kiko was beginning to feel awkward. But since the séance was mainly for his benefit, it felt wrong to end it before Buddy said it was over. So he didn’t move.

  Dom grew fidgety. He’d long since abandoned his sensual finger rubbing for trying to let Kiko’s hand go every thirty seconds, but Kiko held tight. This couldn’t possibly last much longer. Buddy would never let his beer get too warm.

  As if in response to that thought, a clatter disrupted their silence, so sudden that Kiko tore his eyes open and he felt both Dom and Buddy jump on either side of him. The noise wasn’t particularly loud, but it was unexpected and echoed through the large space coldly.

  “The die,” said Martha as though in awe. Buddy released Kiko’s hand and the moment he did so Dom yanked his away. Dom wiped his palms on his pants as Buddy approached the table where the die had been kept; it was now on the floor.

  “I’d say that’s pretty clear,” said the brewmeister. He looked down at the die, then up at Kiko. “Mother wants you to know: the number four.”

  * * * *

  Chapter 17

  “I think people can figure out why Yolks on You is closed,” said Dom, sipping his coffee. Kiko was fidgeting around the kitchen as though unsure what to do when not feeding Mother and wrestling him into a new diaper.

  “I’m not closing because my door’s out,” said Kiko, readjusting his tie and smoothing it again. “The plastic’s holding well enough to keep the heat in and we completely cleaned the area. I don’t want to lose the customers.”

  Of course he didn’t. But that didn’t matter much to Dom—he doubted it would put Kiko under, and even if it did, well, Dom at least would rather have Kiko alive. He didn’t know how to convey that, though, and felt more annoyed the more Kiko refused.

  “I know you’re worried…”

  “Kiko, someone’s trying to kill you.” Dom stood, took hold of Kiko’s arm with his free hand. “Take a few days off.”

  “I am taking a few days off. The twenty-fourth through the twenty-sixth.”

  “But I’m off all week,” said Dom. Kiko rolled his eyes at the whine in Dom’s voice. “I miss you.”

  “I get a lot of last minute shoppers,” said Kiko. “I’m not going to close. Don’t give me those sad eyes, Dom. If you think I’m going to die you can just say it.”

  “I think you’re going to die.” Dom blurted the words before he could argue with himself about it, but Kiko only sighed and pulled away from his grasp.

  “I’ll do what I can to avoid that.” He finished his own coffee and moved to load the mug in the dishwasher.

  Dom wanted to grab him and shake him. He wanted to shout at him, make him understand that it was not worth it. But he could only seem to stand there and glare. Kiko was pissing him off, but the worst thing was knowing he couldn’t stop him, not really. If Kiko wanted to go to work, Kiko would go to work. And after all the things Dom had stubbornly gone off to do, none of his arguments were bound to have much traction. He gritted his teeth.

  “You won’t even close early?” he asked.

  “I am closing early. We’re going up to the brewery for the Twelve Days drawing.”

  That wasn’t what Dom wanted to hear.

  “But what about the secret beer unveiling?” he asked. Kiko sighed, shrugged his shoulders. When he went for his keys Dom stepped forward and grabbed his coat. “If you’re not shutting up Yolks on You then I’m going to be there with you.”

  “I have enough workers, Dom.”

  “I don’t care,” said Dom. “And I’m sick of fighting. So as long as you’re going to be stupid and stubborn and put yourself in mortal danger, I’m going to be there with you.”

  He followed Kiko out to his truck, half-expecting Kiko to tell him to go back inside and enjoy his day, but no further objection was raised. Probably Kiko knew that Dom would just get into his car and show up at Yolks on You anyway.

  “I’ll consider closing early enough to make the beer unveiling,” said Kiko at last, and Dom nodded. One little battle won. “But I still want to hear what Cat has to say. She’s dropping by this morning.”

  “I think she’ll be relieved to hear the evidence on Ben.”

  “I want to know whether she’s gotten any threatening notes,” said Kiko, pulling into Yolks on You and parking. “Because for me to get death threats and not her…”

  “Yeah,” said Dom, but he didn’t like it. He wanted this all to be straightforward. Ben had gone after Cat and was likewise responsible for what was happening to Kiko. He followed Kiko inside. “Promise to close in time for the beer unveiling?”

  “Fine,” said Kiko, brushing him off with the wave of a hand. “But you have to clean out Mother’s cage.”

  Dom froze, staring at the goose’s old pen as Kiko flicked on the lights and moved to boot up the computer. Kiko knew he wouldn’t be able to argue with the request. He moved slowly over and stood on the egg-shaped rug under the rocking chair in front of Mother’s display pen. The goose’s food and water were still in there, scraps of cloth for nesting, the odd fluff from his feathers.

  Kiko went for the door to the basement.

  “I’ll go first,” said Dom, dashing over. Kiko frowned and yanked the door open before Dom reached him. He started down the steps.

  “Look, Dom, I appreciate your caring,” he said as Dom followed. “And I don’t mind you being here with me. But you have to calm down. I’ll be fine.”

  “But maybe third time’s the charm,” said Dom. Kiko tensed, turned, glared at him. Dom swallowed.

  “I’m not closing Yolks on You. I’m not hiding at home. Understood?”

  Dom nodded. He followed Kiko down and accepted the cleaning supplies he was handed. It was shaping
up to be a long day.

  * * * *

  Kiko knew Dom was worried because he cleaned out Mother’s pen without complaint. He packed the last of the online orders as Dom worked; anyone not having placed one by now couldn’t be guaranteed a delivery by Christmas, which was a bit of a relief. Slowly, things were winding down. And with Dom concerned enough for the both of them, Kiko could dismiss any of his own uneasiness about someone targeting him for violence.

  Cat showed up just as Dom was coming back in from tossing Mother’s old rags in the dumpster. She looked half-asleep and was clutching an extra large coffee. Kiko motioned her to one of his tables and sat across from her, waiting for Dom to join them. Cat sucked down at least half of her beverage before Dom sat down, though she didn’t look much more awake for it.

  “It’s Ben, isn’t it?” she asked the moment Dom’s ass touched the chair. Kiko was immediately uncomfortable. Something wasn’t right.

  “Well, we don’t have explicit proof,” he said, thankful Dom didn’t jump in and agree immediately. “But we have found out a few things. Has everything been quiet recently?”

  “Nothing since the paintballing,” said Cat, shaking her head. “But that was enough of a threat. I keep looking over my shoulder. Not to mention having to put in even more hours now to repair artist relationships and keep everything running as smoothly as possible. I ran a ceramics class yesterday, even. Not bad turnout, considering.”

  She sighed heavily and took another long drink from her coffee. Kiko glanced at Dom, who had set his face, and figured he was just as curious as Kiko at this point why there had been such a decrease in activity at Cat’s just as attempts at Kiko’s life went up at Yolks on You.

  “Have you been getting any threatening notes or mail?” asked Dom. Cat shook her head. “Really?”

  She glared at him.

  “Why are you asking?”

  “Have you heard about what’s going on at Yolks on You?” asked Kiko.

  “Yes, and I’m very sorry about your goose. But why would you think I’m getting threatening notes?” She paused, then pointed at Kiko. “You’re getting threatening notes. Shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  “You’re saying it’s whoever’s after you,” said Dom.

  Cat looked back and forth between them, face slowly getting tighter. She definitely seemed to be awake now. She pressed a finger down on the table, voice cold when she spoke.

  “I ask you who else it is? You were paintballed, too. He’s trying to get you to stop because he knows I’ll hold him accountable to the full extent that I’m capable. My brother is not a nice person. You have to have noticed that by now.”

  “He does do some questionable things,” said Dom. But Kiko wanted more. He didn’t want to think that Cat was capable of poisoning Mother, but he needed it all cleared up about what was going on between her and her brother.

  “Tell us about the table, please, Cat,” he said. She rolled her eyes.

  “That damned table,” she said. “Ben can’t stand that I ended up with it. I don’t understand it. He brings it up every year.”

  “He says he got over it,” said Dom. Cat snorted.

  “He sends me birthday cards that have tables on them.”

  Kiko exchanged a look with Dom. Whatever the deal with the table was, it seemed that neither Ben nor Cat truly cared to get over it, nor did they want to tell anything near the truth about it. Kiko shook his head.

  “Cat, we have some evidence, but it’s overwhelmingly circumstantial.”

  “I’ll confront him about it then,” said Cat. “I’ll know if he’s lying. Please, Kiko. I want this entire thing to end.”

  “It probably is Ben, Kiko,” said Dom. “Tell her about the paintballs.”

  Kiko nodded after a moment.

  “This isn’t enough proof to get anyone arrested, Cat,” he said.

  “I don’t care. If I have a little something, then I can get him to confess. At least to stop. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can promise better for my customers and artists.”

  “You might have heard Ben’s going to be having a paintball painting class—” began Kiko.

  “The hell is that?” asked Cat, half laughing, half angry.

  “From my understanding, you aim your paintball gun at the canvas and shoot. The art is splatters of paint. His son Christian is teaching the class. Dom and I learned that the paintball colors they currently have are exactly what you—and I, also—were paintballed with.”

  Cat sat back.

  “I knew he’d mess up somewhere. At the very least I’m going to make him pay for that statue.” She stood. “Thank you both so much.”

  “Cat, wait,” said Kiko, and she stopped. “What were you doing yesterday just after lunchtime?”

  “My ceramics class, I mentioned that,” she said. “There’s openings in my next one, too, if you’re interested. Thanks again.”

  Kiko didn’t stop her again as she left, but he did exchange a look with Dom. He was irritated. Nothing seemed to be going anywhere. All the evidence they had pointed to Ben and Kiko was feeling less and less like he was the culprit, not after everything that had happened at his store.

  “A class means she has a lot of witnesses,” said Dom.

  “I know,” said Kiko. “But I’m not sure I believe it’s Ben.”

  “Kiko, you’re being targeted—”

  “And don’t you want to find out who’s really doing it?” he asked, turning toward Dom, who fell silent at his expression. “This is all too neat, considering it doesn’t really follow. Why should I be threatened more than Cat, the original target? Wouldn’t it make sense to scare her more so that she asks us to stop? Why only me, why not you, too? If the person who dropped the note at my house knew where I live, they knew where you live, too. I’m not the only one investigating. It doesn’t fit together right.”

  Dom was quiet for several long minutes and Kiko began to hope he would agree.

  “Honestly, Kiko,” he said at last, “I don’t give a fuck as long as the violence stops and you’re safe again.”

  * * * *

  Dom didn’t even have to remind Kiko. True to his word, he closed Yolks on You early enough to show up for the beer unveiling at the Mount Angus Brewing Company, an event long months in the making. He didn’t seem excited as he drove, though. Whether that was because he hadn’t wanted to close or Dom wasn’t as eager to find all the reasons behind why Kiko was being threatened, Dom didn’t know.

  “Gaby’s showing up with the kids,” said Kiko as he turned onto the road that wound up to the brewery. “She wants to be there when they do the Twelve Days of Mount Angus drawing.” He paused, smiled. “And she’s interested in the new beer.”

  “Who isn’t?” asked Dom. “Even Devin said he was going.”

  The parking lot was so packed Kiko was forced to pull his truck up along the road. Dom found himself glad that they had gone in Kiko’s truck rather than his car, even if he had to wade through a bit of snow. They made their way up to the brewery and inside, likewise packed. Christmas music was discernible only during lulls in the chatting, drinking crowd, and the place was hot.

  “I’m sure Gaby will be over here,” said Kiko, indicating a place beyond the merchandise where people seemed to be with their children. Dom followed, Gaby and the kids preferable to Devin, and found them coloring at a table. Gaby looked relieved to leave them with Nathan and Rachel so she could buy a few brewery-themed presents and get the last stamp on her card.

  “What are you going to buy?” asked Dom, pulling out his Twelve Days card and looking at the last empty slot. Kiko was helping Nathan find a new page to scribble on.

  “I’m waiting for the new beer.”

  “That’s a good idea,” said Dom. Kiko arched an eyebrow at him and he shrugged. “We’ll drink it all eventually.”

  Dom scanned the crowd, searching for Devin to mark where he was and avoid accidentally bumping into him. He didn’t catch a glimpse
of his brother, but it did seem like half the town of Mount Angus turned out for this, and a good portion of the neighboring towns. He saw Briana and Joy talking with Noodlebeard, owner and chef at Pasta La Vista, and not far from them Elena and Katie laughing at something they were pointing at but Dom couldn’t quite see. Cat was by the bar, having an intense discussion with Sasha, who was probably asking to be an artist with her again. Dom didn’t care to know how that was going.

  There were a lot of people he didn’t know or hadn’t met yet. He recognized some people from the bank, a few regulars from the Pickle, and the odd teacher at the school. Clark Schnee from the Angus Observer was wandering about, trying to interview unsuspecting attendees, and Gordon circled slowly. Dom caught sight of Chad showing off his stitches to Angel, Martha’s fifteen-year-old daughter, and was about to warn the teen away when his mother, Evelyn, showed up, glaring, and led him off into the crowd.

  Having anything to do with Evelyn was something Dom intended to avoid. She did not much like him, and she worried Kiko didn’t do enough to keep her son from harm. The less they interacted with her, the better. He was about to mention her presence to Kiko when the chatter and noise began to die back.

  “Could I have your attention,” said Buddy from somewhere near the middle of the room, between the bar and the merchandise. Dom had noticed a table set up there when he and Kiko had first entered, its contents covered by cloths.

  “Thank you,” said Martha. “Thank you all for coming out to this very special unveiling.”

  Dom joined in with the applause.

  “It has been the pleasure of a lifetime to join with Buddy Miller to make this secret brew. I’ve had a lot of fun and think you’ll all enjoy the fruits of our labor.”

  “I likewise have had some of the best Buddy Angus-free months of my life,” said Buddy. “Together with Martha, I’ve reawakened my brewing spark and reconnected with my long lost friend. Buddy Angus might have passed on in body, but is with me in spirit every time I work here at the brewery. Don’t know why it took me so long to figure that out.”