by Stuart Jaffe
"I know that, but you haven't done that stuff in a long time."
Sandra smirked. "You don't really think I spend all my computer time at work focused on business? I'll have you know that my Daily Sudoku, Daily Cipher Break, Mad Ciphers, and Cipher-Squad skills are also quite adept — in case we get attacked by mutant cipher-bearing zombies. Besides, who else do you know that can help out? Let me take a shot at it."
Max shrugged. "Okay."
"Okay?" Drummond said. "This is serious stuff. Not a fun, little game."
"Like she said, I don't know anybody to turn to for this, and I certainly can't do it. You?"
"No," Drummond mumbled.
"Then it's settled." Max started to stuff the notes back in the envelope when he saw a thicker page inside. He pulled out a torn black and white photograph of a young woman with striking eyes and full lips sitting in a summer dress under a tree with a weird branch like a burnt finger. It looked like a frame taken out of a movie. Mostly open fields around her and the blurry edge of a building in the distance. The setting made him think of the old-time romances with sweeping violins and passionate kisses that faded to black. But her hollow, lost, hopeless face told another story — one of tragedy and horror.
Max heard Drummond's breath catch. Turning around, he saw the ghost's focus locked on the photograph, dread covering his head like the stylish hat he wore.
"You know who this is?" Max asked.
"Looks like some girl." Drummond's tone had lost all emotion. His face colder, deader than normal.
"Who is this? Why does Dr. Ernest have her picture?"
Under his breath, Drummond said, "Son of a bitch." Then he vanished from the car.
Chapter 9
Max slept little that night. The high of pulling off a successful job, of knowing he had escaped jail, kept him up at first. But then his mind tumbled over black and white images of the woman in the photo. What had happened to her to cause those beautiful eyes to look so haunted? Why did Dr. Ernest include the picture in the coded file? And what about her spooked Drummond?
By the time Sandra woke, Max had already eaten a toasted bagel and granola cereal. She glanced at the cold pot of coffee and grunted.
"Sorry," he said, picking a raisin from his teeth. "The last thing I needed was caffeine. I'm still wide awake."
She shuffled over to the counter and poured the dregs into a mug. "You'll crash this afternoon." Placing the mug into the microwave, she added, "Are you excited about the case or are you thinking about that picture?"
"Excited is not the right word."
"Confused, then?"
"How about terrified?"
The microwave beeped and Sandra sat with her head over the steaming mug of day-old coffee. "That seems a bit much. We've handled stranger cases than this."
"Never one that involved Drummond lying like this or one in which he sees a photo and runs off."
"Maybe we should confront him. Ask him directly."
"How much more direct could I have been last night?"
Sandra placed a hand on her forehead. "Not so loud, hon. Coffee hasn't kicked in yet."
"When it does," he said, softer but no less urgent, "I need you to figure out that code."
"Last night, you guys doubted me completely, and now you think I can just figure it out instantly. Unbelievable."
"I'm not expecting miracles. That's the point. I need you to get started because it's going to take time, and something tells me we don't have a lot of that left."
"You're getting hunches now?"
Max shared a smile with her and kissed the top of her head. "Watch out or pretty soon I'll be a full-fledged detective. Hunches and everything."
"Don't worry. I'll put all my effort into that code."
"You'll do great. Do you want to work at the office, or are you going to stay home?"
She lifted her coffee cup. "No decisions, yet."
"Well, when you're fully caffeinated, let me know. I'm going to take a shower."
Within minutes, hot water cascaded down Max's body, soothing not only his weary muscles but also his weary mind. He knew better than to attempt to solve everything at once. One step at a time and all that. And the first step, after his shower, would be to question Drummond.
"Sorry about taking off last night," Drummond said.
Shouting, Max slipped and crashed to the bottom of the shower. The jolt on his rear sent painful vibrations straight up his spine. "Really? You can't wait until I'm out of the shower and dressed?"
He heard Sandra race up the stairs. "You okay in there?"
"Fine," Max called back. "Drummond surprised me, that's all."
"Drummond's in there?"
"I am, my dear," Drummond said, a hint of amusement in his voice.
After a short pause, Sandra went downstairs without another word. Max grabbed a towel, dried off, and stepped from the shower. He looked at Drummond and shook his head. The ghost hovered above the toilet, hunched over either in thought or with the urgent need to use the facilities.
"You know there's a toilet in the office?"
Drummond raised an eyebrow. "Cute. Now can we focus on the case? Has your better half cracked the code yet?"
"Of course not. She's only waking up, and it's going to take some time."
"Can't be that hard."
As Max dressed, he shot Drummond an incredulous smirk. "I dare you to say that to her face." He sat on the edge of the bed. He felt like a mountain climber pausing long enough to see the steep path ahead but knowing that if he stopped for too long, it would be twice as hard to get going again. "Tell me about the woman in the photo. Who is she? Why is she important?"
"She's not. Never was."
"Then you admit to knowing her."
Drummond's face tightened. He loomed over Max, his head brushing the ceiling, and a misty darkness flowed off his shoulders like fog made of shadows. "You listen to me," he said, his voice deepening to the point of vibrating Max's bones. "We're not going to pursue her. She's got nothing to do with this case. Do you understand? Nothing."
"Calm down. Don't get so excited." Sandra's warnings about evil-turning ghosts reverberated in Max's mind. "I understand. I do. Whoever the woman is, she's not important to our investigation."
"That's right." The dark mist drifted into the bathroom looking like more steam from the shower. "Let's stay focused on Dr. Ernest and the Hulls. Forget about the photograph."
"Good idea." Max watched as Drummond returned to his normal, ghostly self.
"Huh?" Drummond blinked fast as he looked around. "Sorry, pal. I think I dozed off. Didn't know I could still do that. I guess you're so boring that my old instincts kicked in. So, what's a good idea?"
It took Max a few seconds before he believed that Drummond had forgotten the last moments, but once he did, he decided to take advantage of that fact. "You, um, had the idea of going into the Other and seeing if you could find Dr. Ernest. After all, he died quite recently. He might be lost and looking for some explanation."
"Yeah. I suppose so."
"It's a good idea. You go to the Other, find him, and tell him all about us. He'll be able to help discover his own murderer."
Drummond smacked his hands together. "That is a good idea. Glad I thought of it. Okay, I'm off for the Other."
"Good luck," Max said. Though he didn't expect Drummond to find anything useful — probably stumble upon some smalltime hood that picked the wrong day to go haunting houses — Max did hope Drummond's excursion would eat up most of his day. In the meantime, he hoped to give Sandra all the quiet she needed to work on the code. He would go back to the office, and —
His phone rang.
As Max picked it up, Drummond waved good-bye and disappeared. "Hello?" Max said.
"Please. Get here quick."
"Who is this?"
"She's coming for me. You've got to help."
"I think you've got the wrong number."
"Mr. Porter, please. This is Joshua Leed. If you do
n't get here soon, I think I'll be murdered like Dr. Ernest."
Chapter 10
Max put on his coat and grabbed his keys. He avoided Sandra's glare. Hoping to sound reasonable, he said, "I need you working on that code."
She folded her arms and jutted out her chin. "You cannot go into this situation alone, and Drummond's out of the question for now."
"I won't be alone. Leed is there."
She raised an eyebrow which dismissed that entire argument. They went back and forth for five minutes until Max finally said he couldn't waste more time and rushed to the car. Sandra had a tough, stubborn streak in her, but Max knew she wouldn't jump in the car unclean and in her pajamas — not for this. But he also knew he'd pay for his actions later.
He wished he could have told her the truth. He wanted her to know that the FBI had been pressing on him, that Joshua Leed might be connected with a mess larger than they realized, that Drummond's secrecy might cause them more harm than he wanted to think about — but to tell her would be to bring her closer to the trouble he wanted to avoid. A part of him dug into his conscience, reminding him that they had learned to be open and honest with each other, that they had past experiences which proved hiding things never helped. But they had never dealt with the FBI before, never had to worry about charges and going to federal prison.
The drive to Leed's place did little to ease his mind. Often a drive would be a cleansing experience for his problems, but as he neared Thomasville, his focus shifted away from Sandra and on to Leed. He feared when he arrived that he would only find a body.
When his cell phone rang, he swerved onto the shoulder, the rumble strips shivering the car until he got back in his lane. He glanced at the phone — his mother. He considered letting it go to voicemail, but he had been avoiding her calls too often lately. Another thing Drummond had taught him well — a detective can't put all of his life aside for a case. Do that, and he never has time to live.
"Hi, Mom."
"Maxwell. It's so good to hear your voice. You're a hard man to reach."
"Sorry about that. It's been kind of crazy lately."
"Oh? Is business good, then?"
"We're doing fine. Busy but fine."
"Well, you shouldn't be too busy for your family. That's important. When you forget family, you forget what makes you the person you are, and then where would you be? You listen to me. I may be old, but I'm not an idiot."
"I never said —"
"You kids think I'm a fool but I know what I'm talking about. The ones we love are the most important part of our lives, and you shouldn't take that for granted."
Max thought of Sandra. "I agree."
"You should. So, I want you to come visit me. You're always welcome and I haven't seen you in too long."
"I'll see when Sandra and I can work in a vacation."
"Oh, yes, you can bring Sandra along, too."
Max finished the call, a gentle smile finding its way onto his lips. He could already hear Sandra's reaction to both his mother's lack of including her and the idea of a "vacation" visiting his mother. She would laugh hard before spewing a rapid tirade caused by years of such slights. Then she'd laugh some more.
Before Max could put the cell phone down, it went off again. He glanced at its face and read: Modesto. "Damn," he said and answered the call.
Modesto sounded more impatient than usual. "I expected a report by now."
For a moment, Max forgot what he had been assigned to do for the Hulls — Drummond, Leed, and a witch coven seemed more pressing. "Right, the handbell."
"You seem to be very relaxed regarding this research. Do I need to remind you of your current situation? Our employer is not fond of sluggards."
"I've done some preliminary research."
"We had hoped for more by now."
"You haven't given me much to go on."
Modesto could not hide the oozing triumph in his voice. "Why, I assumed a man as brilliant as you would have needed far less to start with. I'll inform our employer that you're the wrong man for our research needs."
Clenching the phone, Max said, "You go ahead and do that. Of course, you better be ready to explain why you failed to give me the necessary information to assist me. I mean, after all, that's part of your job, right? To assist me? And don't think for a second I won't contact Mr. Hull directly and let him know what a swell job you're doing. You do remember what happened the last time you screwed up for Mr. Hull, don't you?"
A long silence ensued. Finally, he heard Modesto's throat clear. "Finish your research soon. I'll expect a full report by —"
"Sounds good. Bye now." Max cut the call. Despite everything, he had to smile. "Sometimes it's the little victories that matter." He only hoped he would reach Leed in time for another victory.
* * * *
Though he had seen Leed's house before, driving up to it in the daytime made it scarier. Like Norman Bates's home on the hill. Max kept expecting the silhouette of a strange woman to appear in one of the upper-windows.
As he stepped from the car, Joshua Leed opened the front door and waved Max in as if he were a soldier being urged to sprint across an open field. "Hurry!" Leed attempted to crouch low, but with his bad leg, he simply ducked his head and leaned heavier on his cane as he moved to the edge of the porch. "Come on. I can't leave the door open."
Max jogged up to the porch, crouching a bit despite how silly he felt, and entered the house. Leed slammed the door shut, locked the deadbolt, and poured salt across the entranceway. When he faced Max, his sunken eyes and sweating cheeks shivered.
"Thank you for coming," Leed said. "I knew I could trust you. You didn't tell Drummond, did you? Not a word, right?"
"I didn't tell him anything."
"Thank goodness." With trembling hands, Leed limped to the kitchen. He looked thinner than before, frail and unkempt. "I need your help."
Max followed him. "Are you okay? You seem a bit —"
"You'd look the same if you were being hunted down by the dead."
"You mean the witch coven?"
"After I met you and your wife, I set out to destroy the witches I had cursed. I went to each site and I did what I had to. Something went wrong, though. I was never as good as Dr. Ernest at all this stuff. I don't know what I screwed up but things have only gotten worse. One's after me. She won't stop, either. Not until we're all dead."
"You didn't destroy both of them?"
"I did. That's the problem. I did exactly as Dr. Ernest prescribed, but still they come." He tried to pour a cup of coffee but spilled it on the counter.
"When was the last time you slept?"
Leed shook his head. "I won't sleep again. Not until we finish this."
"We?"
"I can't do this alone. I'm too old now. Besides, you and your wife are the only ones around here that know, that understand, what's going on. You've got to find out where Drummond's witches are buried. You've got to do this, but you can't let on that you know anything. Drummond's a ghost and this is personal to him. That's a highly emotional combination — all the ingredients for an evil conversion. But you get that information from him and we'll put a stop to this coven. Then, maybe I'll sleep."
Max sat at a little breakfast nook and scratched his head. "Look, I understand you're scared, and I believe that you and Dr. Ernest and Drummond all dealt with this witch coven way back when. But something doesn't quite fit. Drummond's behavior lately, for one. Something else, though. If you give me a little time to look into this more, then —"
A loud pounding erupted on the walls as if giants threw each other around the house. Max could see the drywall vibrate with each thud and dust sprinkled from the ceiling. A hundred horror movies flashed through his mind.
Leed cowered at the sound, gripping the edge of the sink to keep from falling over. He locked eyes with Max. With each successive thud against the walls, his face shifted to worse levels of terror.
"They killed Dr. Ernest. They're coming for me next. Oh,
it's all our fault, all of it. We didn't know, didn't understand. You think you're doing right, fighting evil forces, saving the world around you, but it's never so simple."
Max put out his hand and noticed the tremor in his fingers. "Come. Let's get out of here."
"My soul is damned. I've used the same magic that they used. I did so against them, to save us, but I used it nonetheless. I'm damned."
Glass shattered upstairs and the pounding on the walls intensified. Max's heart pounded in time. He grabbed Leed's wrist but the frightened man found the strength to yank himself free.
"Whatever's doing this," Max said, "it doesn't have to take you. Come with me. We can solve this. Trust me."
Leed straightened and his face shifted from horror to acceptance. He shook his head slowly. "It's over for me. I'm too old, too tired."
The pounding ceased.
Max stood motionless, his skin still jangling with nerves. Leed opened a drawer and pulled out a photograph. He stared at it, and a tear fell down cheek. "I should've known all along that this was more than just a witch coven. Dr. Ernest always held back from telling me the truth. But I was young and foolish. And I wanted the adventure." He held out the photo to Max. "Here. Take this and —"
A screech like an animal being slaughtered erupted around them. An unseen hand flung Leed up against the wall. Pots clattered to the floor. Max winced at the sharp odor of sulfur.
He stepped forward to help but something jerked him backward. He tried to move again and was slammed against the breakfast nook wall. An enormous weight pressed into him as if a huge man leaned back against his chest.
Across the kitchen, he watched as the attack shoved Leed higher up the wall until his head touched the ceiling. Leed tried to speak, but his throat only made a clamped, gurgling sound. His face darkened and his eyes bulged.
Max strained to raise his arm, move his leg, anything, but he had been made immobile by this force. He found enough breath to scream out. "Leave him alone!"
Leed's face opened in surprise. "You did it," he said, staring at the emptiness in front of him. "You killed my parents."