Gorgon

by Mary Ann Poll

  She stopped at a door wedged into the corner of the mall when she saw Mandy waving from behind the glass. Mandy unlocked the door when Kat got out of the car. She ran to Kat and dragged her into a bear hug. “Thanks for coming. I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t.”

  Kat pulled herself free and placed her hands on Mandy’s shoulders. “Tell me the whole story.”

  “I’d rather show you. Come on.” Mandy grasped Kat’s elbow and hurried her through the shop. Old, tattered clothing and swirls of red, green, and black on a dark-blue background swished by. She had a chance to see a moose’s black outline against a large full moon in the middle of the multi-colored quilt. She turned her head. A bent wood chair, then a tattered maroon recliner soared by on the opposite side of the room.

  Kat planted her feet. “What exactly is your business?”

  “I run a secondhand shop.”

  “Really?”

  “It’s been very lucrative.”

  “Really?” Kat said again.

  Mandy nodded and leaned into a silver bar on an off-white steel door. “My car’s out here.” She held the door open and motioned Kat into a small alley. Opaque ribbons of fog swirled around Kat like a macabre dance partner. A sharp wind slapped her face and brought with it the smell of rain.

  “Should have worn something a bit warmer,” Kat said as she zipped her lightweight slicker. Today promised to be a day when nature was going to let people know Alaska was never to be suspected of being tame.

  The building moaned when a gust assaulted the weathered boards in its eaves. Kat jogged to Mandy’s rust-pocked red Honda Civic. “Same car?”

  “The body will disintegrate before the engine fails. Love a Honda.” The engine ground to life. Mandy wheeled onto the four-lane road and headed south. She made a quick left onto a smaller thoroughfare and a right onto a one-lane street. Older houses gave way to a picturesque park and then to newer, larger homes sitting in a circle of their own. The Cook Inlet and Mount Susitna were in their full glory from this location.

  “Wow. I never knew Anchorage had these kinds of homes.”

  “It didn’t have many until recently; there seems to be a boom occurring. Housing is going up in places I never knew existed.”

  The red Civic came to rest in front of a storm-gray, two-story home. A milk-white porch flanked the house on three sides. A complementary trim of snow-white glistened from the roof, giving the house a pristine but cold persona.

  Kat arched her left eyebrow. “And we are here…why?”

  “This is where the missing guy lives. I thought you could take a look. Maybe you can find something to get me off the hook.”

  Kat spun on her heel and jogged down the porch steps. “For the love of Pete, we’re trespassing! You not only make yourself look guilty by coming here. Now, you’re implicating me in this mess!”

  Kat swung around, threw her hands in the air, and slapped them to her side. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t go back to Ravens Cove right now and leave you high and dry?” The temperature had dropped. Small puffs of smoke emphasized Kat’s words. She threw up her hood and strode to the car.

  “Because I’m innocent!” Mandy yelled after her.

  “Not good enough.”

  Mandy trotted up to Kat and took her arm. “I saw something the night he disappeared, and the police can’t confirm it. That’s why I need you to take a look.”

  “Tell me what you saw and where.”

  Mandy pointed at the house. “It was here. I was visiting this guy.”

  “What’s this guy’s name? Why were you visiting him, and what did you see?”

  “A little at a time, okay? Let’s get out of the cold.” Mandy rounded the car and disappeared into the driver’s side.

  The engine roared to life. Kat dropped into the passenger seat just as Mandy flipped the heater’s fan to high. Kat leaned into the warmth. “So…?”

  “His name is Grady Spawldine. He’s my, um, accountant.”

  “So, why were you at his home? Doesn’t he have an office?”

  “Well, it’s complicated.”

  Kat turned and faced Mandy. Emerald-green eyes fixed on Mandy’s amber ones. “If you want my help, stop with the games, and come to the point. Tell me the truth. I’ll tell you if I’ll help.”

  Mandy thought for a moment and sighed. “Well, we were friends, too.”

  “Like ‘let’s play cards on Friday night’ friends?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Kat’s frustration hit the boiling point. “I’m done here! Take me back to my car—now!”

  “Okay! Okay! He and I had an, umm, arrangement.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, he set me up in business and paid for a place to live. I kept him company when he needed it.”

  Kat’s eyes grew wide as the weight of Mandy’s words sank in. “YOU’RE HIS MISTRESS?”

  “More like a reciprocal relationship that met both of our needs.”

  “Oh, Mandy. What were you thinking? You could have come home and never had to go through the humiliation—or any of this.”

  Mandy concentrated on the stormy waves of the Inlet. “I have never wanted anything more in my life than to be a success and not have to depend on other people. After the fallout with Bart, I didn’t know what else to do but run, make a life far, far away and never look back.”

  “You didn’t get very far, my friend.”

  “I know. I was headed for the Lower 48, but I needed to make some money. I took a job as a waitress where Grady was a regular. One thing led to another.”

  Kat turned and faced the expanse of the Cook Inlet. She stared at the angry water and mulled over her loyalty to her town and those in it she considered family—blood or not. She considered what she would have done if the tables were turned. “I’ll help you.”

  Mandy threw herself across the center console and yanked Kat into a suffocating hug. “Thank you so much.”

  Kat pulled her arms free and held Mandy at arm’s length. “I will help you but there are a few conditions.”

  Mandy flopped back into her seat and stared straight ahead. “What conditions?”

  “First, you will promise never again be a man’s mistress. You are worth far more.”

  “Yeah—whatever.”

  “I mean it!”

  “Alright. Alright. What else?”

  “You will not lie to the police.”

  “They’ll think I did it! I can’t—”

  “You will not lie, no matter what you think they think.”

  Mandy’s eyes narrowed. “Anything else, Miss High and Mighty?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is. When this is over, you will return to Ravens Cove. At least for three months. You will find a job. You still have your cabin?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You have a place to live. Last thing.”

  “What?”

  “You will stay away from Bart.”

  Mandy stiffened and turned toward Kat. “Bart can make his own decisions.”

  “Usually. I’m going to help him here. You devastated him when you left the Cove. I thought he’d never recover. He’s found himself a new love interest. He’s happy. I don’t want you showing up and ruining a good thing.”

  “I’ll try to leave him alone.”

  “Not good enough. I’ll find my own way back to my car.” Kat grabbed the door handle and gave it a push.

  “Okay! Okay! Agreed,” Mandy whispered.

  “Good.” Kat power-walked up the sidewalk.

  Mandy jumped out of the driver’s side. “Let’s take a peek in the windows.”

  “Why? Haven’t the police searched the house?”

  “Yes, but they could have missed something.”

  Kat sighed and stepped to the front door. She cupped her hands around her eyes and squinted into the etched-glass. She was greeted by a kaleidoscope of indefinable browns, tans, and whites. She pushed off the door. “Can’t make anything out.” />
  “I think I see something.”Mandy stood in front of a long glass window a few feet from the door. She peeked in, weaved back and forth like a mesmerized cobra, then pointed into the window. “I do see something!”

  Kat joined her. The gauze curtains transformed the room’s contents into ethereal colors and shapes. Kat managed to identify dark wood bookcases and a matching desk. A black patent shoe was pinned between the entry door and its frame.

  “I thought you said the police had checked this place.”

  “They did.”

  Kat ran to the front door and pounded. “Mr. Spawldine? Mr. Spawldine are you in there? Are you able to get to the door?” She darted down the steps and rounded the house.

  “What are we doing?” Mandy ran up behind her, breathless from the jog.

  “Looking for a way in.” Kat scanned the large expanse of the house. “There!” She pointed at the open backdoor and took off.

  “Wait up. What about the police?”

  “We’ll call them. But if he’s hurt, he needs help now. Wellness check, as Bart would say.” Kat shot Mandy a quick smile over her shoulder.

  “What if the guy’s dead and the killer’s still here?”

  Kat reached behind her back and pulled out the .22 caliber pistol she kept close. She held it toward the sky and pushed the door with her fingernail. Cool tones of gray polished granite and stainless steel stood out against a backdrop of nutmeg-colored cabinets.

  “Looks like a kitchen out of House Beautiful doesn’t it?” Mandy whispered.

  “I’ll say. Grandma Bricken would love this.” Kat cocked the gun. She crept forward, pointing the firearm toward the ceiling. Mandy followed her into a narrow hallway. Kat signaled for Mandy to wait. She listened. The rhythmic tick-tick of a clock marked off the seconds.

  Kat stepped into a colorless and formal foyer. The white walls and marble floors emphasized a charcoal pant leg and the tan sole of a shoe matching the one she’d seen from the porch. Kat raced to the man lying on the floor. His arms stretched toward the front door.

  “Mr. Spawldine can you hear me?” Kat said. She looked into cloud-white eyes. She placed her thumb and forefinger around the man’s left wrist. The ice-cold skin made her recoil as if she’d touched a plate of liquid nitrogen.

  Kat shook her head and turned to Mandy. “Now we can call the police.”

  Chapter 2

  Of Snakes and Statues

  Pulsing blue and red lights splashed eerie prisms of color onto the off-white walls and the late Grady Spawldine. The rhythmic blinking reminded Kat of an erratic heart monitor.

  “So you just happened to find him this way?” A disheveled detective directed the unveiled accusation at Mandy.

  Kat pulled her eyes from the lightshow. “We happened to find him this way, Detective…?”

  “Dayton.” He put a pencil against a small spiral notebook. “Your name again?”

  “Kat Tovslosky.”

  “Spell it.”

  Kat leaned over the notebook and halted between each character of her name. Let’s get this right the first time, shall we, Detective Dayton? The detective looked up and caught Kat scanning the open pages. “Thanks.” He flipped the log shut.

  A quick gotcha smile lit Kat’s features.

  “And you’re sure this is Grady Spawldine?” The detective asked Mandy.

  “I’m sure!”

  Kat studied the corpse. The top of Grady Spawldine’s head was split in a jagged gash, exposing tissue and skull. A dried river of blood snaked from the wound. It pooled on the marble floor, then continued its death march and came to rest beneath the left shoulder. The man’s arms still strained upward then out toward the front door. His whole body was tense, as if he could take off and run—if he weren’t dead.

  “Something’s sticking out of his right hand.” Kat pointed to a clenched fist. A small but perceptible snippet of white peeked from between the index and middle fingers.

  “Doubtful. The ME checked…” Dayton glanced down at the corpse. “Well, I’ll be.” The detective stepped to the right side of the body. He crouched, used the eraser side of his pencil, and lifted the pinky finger. “Hey, Jonas, can you get this for me?”

  A six-foot sandy-haired man looked at Dayton, then back to the man Dayton introduced as his partner, Carson Watermill.

  “What’d you find?” Watermill and the ME joined Dayton.

  “Don’t know. Hope it’s a clue to solving this mess.”

  “Me, too. I might get home for dinner.”

  “Good thing rigor has begun to subside.” The ME opened the semirigid fingers. He handed a crumpled piece of paper to the detective.

  Dayton tugged at the corners of the note until it was straightened into a wrinkled square. He dropped it into an evidence bag. “Do either of you know what this means?” He turned the writing toward Kat and Mandy.

  “Not me,” Mandy said.

  Kat leaned toward the evidence bag. The Book of Fallen Angels jumped off the paper and slapped her mind’s eye. Terror blasted her stomach, then raced to her arms and legs. Steady, Kat, steady.

  “You know it?”

  “I know part of it,” Kat murmured. “I’ve never heard or seen that word,” she pointed to Gorgon. “A document named The Book of Fallen Angels disappeared off the Ravens Cove evidence shelf. We assumed it had been misplaced.”

  Dayton rubbed his chin and studied the late Grady Spawldine with renewed interest. “Wonder why it got mentioned here.”

  “This guy looks to have died from a massive blow to the head. You find anything the killer could have used?” The ME asked Dayton.

  “Not yet. But we haven’t finished our walkthrough of the house.” Dayton raised his notebook. “About the book—”

  “You need to see this.” A uniformed police officer stuck his head out the door of the room with the gauze curtains.

  “There’s something else—”

  Dayton turned back to the ME. “What?”

  “If the blow to the head didn’t kill him, the loss of blood would have.”

  “You mean from the head wound, right?”

  “That’s the logical explanation, but the head wound didn’t bleed enough to account for it. I’ll let you know after the autopsy.”

  Dayton shook his head. “I look forward to reading the report.” He turned to Watermill. “Don’t think we’re looking for your run-of-the-mill murderer.”

  “I’ll start looking for any other unsolved murders with this MO as soon as I get to the station.”

  Dayton nodded. “Let’s hope we haven’t inherited someone else’s mess.”

  The uniformed officer cleared his throat. “You need to see what we’ve found.”

  “For the love of my late Aunt Millie!” Dayton pointed his notebook at Mandy, then Kat. “Stay put. I have a few more questions.” Dayton disappeared into the study. Kat walked to the window beside the front door, pulled out her cell phone, and dialed.

  Josiah sat in Grandma Bricken’s sunbathed kitchen enjoying the melodies of the summer birds of Ravens Cove.

  “More coffee?” Alese Bricken topped the large handmade pottery cup to the rim before he could answer.

  “Thanks.” Josiah took a long sip and smiled. “Still as good as the day I discovered a taste for it.” Josiah reflected on his long sleep in Ravens Ravine after his face-to-face meeting and subsequent battle against the evil foe’s commander—Iconoclast.

  The phone in the hallway trilled. “Hello to you precious child,” Grandma said.

  “Hi, Gram. Can you find Bart? He’s not in the office and not picking up his cell phone. Mandy’s up to her eyeballs, and now the lost book seems to be involved.”

  “The Book of Fallen Angels?”

  “Yes. Get Bart to call me? And soon. I’m afraid Mandy and I are both going to jail if we don’t get this straightened out.”

  “Why would you end up in jail? What would make them—”

  “Gotta go,” Kat whispered. She punched end and pu
t the phone in her pocket.

  Dayton’s eyes went from Kat’s empty hand to her coat pocket. “Seems there’s a hidden room in the house.” He looked at Mandy. “You wouldn’t know anything about a secret room, would you?”

  “Of course not!” Mandy answered.

  “You sure? There’s lots of weird stuff back there. Not your normal collection for an accountant.”

  “I’m good at figuring out weird stuff,” Kat offered.

  “Doesn’t look like part of the murder scene,” Dayton said more to himself than to Kat. “Can’t see how it would hurt. Just don’t touch anything.”

  “Hold on, Pete! You don’t want anyone talking about this,” Watermill said.

  Dayton turned. “They’ve already been privy to things most civilians aren’t. Don’t think it would hurt.”

  “If it goes sour, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Dayton’s mouth formed a stubborn line. “I’ll take the chance.” He motioned to Kat.

  Mandy trotted toward the study. Dayton stopped in front of her. “You, on the other hand, need to stay put.” He waved to Watermill. “Keep tabs on her, would you?”

  Carson Watermill nodded and took Mandy’s elbow. Mandy threw a pleading look over her shoulder before she disappeared into the narrow hallway.

  “Don’t say anything, Mandy.” Kat stepped into the late Grady Spawldine’s study. Warm-toned bookcases filled with accounting and tax books lined the wall behind a straight-legged table. An ebony globe of the world stood alone on one shelf. The walls were bare except for a college diploma and a few award certificates. One of the bookcases jutted into the room, revealing a low doorway.

  “I’ll go first.” Dayton stepped in front of her and disappeared into the darkness.

  A loud “Umph” escaped Kat.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Thought you’d been hit in the stomach,” Detective Dayton said.

  “Nothing so dramatic. Just ran my shoulder into the doorway.” Kat scanned the cramped hideaway looking for anything that could explain what had slammed into her chest and shoved her—hard. She saw a silhouette from the corner of her eye. She whipped her head toward the shadow.