Gorgon

by Mary Ann Poll

  “You sure you’re okay?” Concern laced Dayton’s words.

  “Of course. Just a little jumpy, I guess.”

  Kat’s eyes rested on a yellow Tiffany-style banker’s lamp which lit a turn-of-the-century student desk. Several papers littered its work surface. The muted light glinted off the eyes of a stuffed owl atop a 2-by-4 and cinderblock creation. The makeshift shelf sagged from the weight of its load.

  “Man, this guy liked his books.” Kat headed for the shelves.

  “He liked more than books.” Dayton pointed at a statue of a beautiful woman. The figurine sat by itself on a three-foot tall plant stand. It was scantily clothed. A snake wound around the body from its neck to its feet. Her hand held the snake’s midsection in a gentle embrace. A brass plaque read “Lilith.”

  “Who is Lilith?”

  “Hoped you could shed some light on it.”

  Kat shook her head. “Why would you think I’d know anything about a scantily clad statue and the name Lilith?”

  “Well, while you were on your phone, so was I. Seems your town has had some odd occurrences—lots of deaths for a small town. When you knew about the book, well, it seemed you might know more than you’re saying.”

  Kat gained a new respect for this detective she had thought was a bumbler. “You’re very astute.”

  “When I need to be.” He smiled at her and winked.

  “You think the statue may have something to do with this murder?”

  “It could.”

  Kat chewed her lower lip. “I don’t know anything. I do know some people who might. Want me to give them a call?”

  “I don’t need to involve—”

  Kat’s phone rang. “Can I take this?”

  “Why not?”

  “Thanks—what? I can’t hear you.”

  “I can’t let you out of my sight for a minute, can I?” Bart yelled.

  Kat held the phone away from her ear. “Calm down. I’m fine. Mandy, on the other hand… “

  Bart willed his voice to a normal level. “Not funny. Grandma said The Book of Fallen Angels showed up there.”

  “Not the book. The title showed up on a piece of paper in a dead man’s hand.”

  “I was hoping you’d found it. I haven’t had any luck here. Maureen Orthell swears she didn’t take it. Maureen’s the only person I’d have believed would want it.”

  “The Book of Fallen Angels was in her husband’s family for a century. I can see where you’d think the book would give her something to hang onto.”

  “Exactly what I thought. She denies it, and I can’t prove any different.”

  “I’ll tell the detective here. Would you ask Josiah if he has ever heard of anyone called Lilith?”

  “Lilith, you say? Hold on.”

  “In what context did you see the name, Katrina?” Josiah insisted on using Kat’s formal name.

  “It’s a nameplate on a statue of an almost naked woman wrapped in a snake—a pet snake by the looks of it.”

  “Oh, it’s probably a statue of the demon Lilith,” Josiah said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Why do you and that word always go together?” Kat rubbed her forehead in an effort to clear her mind.

  “God’s calling would be my only answer.”

  “I’d have to agree. What do you know about this dem—,” Kat smiled at the detective, “dame?”

  “Well, an old tale identifies her as Adam’s first wife who ran away when Adam wanted her to be beneath him. She went far away, eluding God’s angels sent to bring her back, and consorted with demons.”

  “Nice lady. So, why would someone have a statue of her?” Kat asked.

  “My only guess is a type of worship. Though I’ve not heard of it before now.”

  “How about Gorgon? Have you ever heard it?”

  “The word sounds familiar, but I do not know why. I’m sorry I can’t help.”

  “I know more than I did before we talked. Thanks, Josiah.”

  “Katrina?”

  Kat brought the phone back to her ear. “Yes?”

  “Bart told me Agent Melbourne called him because he’d been unable to reach you. Your cousin feels you should call him right away.”

  “Do me a favor? Tell Bart I’ll call both him and Ken as soon as I get a chance.” She put the phone in her raincoat pocket.

  Dayton looked at Kat over a pair of reading glasses. “Well?”

  “Seems it could be a statue of a demon. At least my friend thinks it is.”

  “Did he know what Gorgon meant? Why would you ask him about it, anyway?”

  He seems to be, for lack of a better term, our town’s expert on oddities and the supernatural.”

  “So you think we have some kind of a cult thing going on here?”

  “This statue, coupled with The Book of Fallen Angels, almost makes it a certainty.” Kat told Dayton about the history of the book and what had befallen Ravens Cove. She explained the death of the mayor and, in what had become the accepted version of the story, she told him the new librarian in Ravens Cove had been the culprit in the deaths.

  “Busy for a small town.”

  Kat smiled. “Never seems to be a dull moment.”

  Dayton yanked a piece of paper from the others on the desk. “Think I’ll ask your friend if she knows any of these people.” Kat caught a quick glimpse of a name roster.

  Kat took her first deep breath when she and the detective were back in the study. There was something in there. I could feel it watching us. How can I tell this guy what he’s facing?

  Carson Watermill met them in the entry. “The station got a call from a pawn shop. Seems a diamond ring and a crystal obelisk made their way into that fine establishment about a half hour ago.”

  “Oh, my gosh! I didn’t see his favorite pinky ring tonight. It had at least a one-quarter carat diamond as its main attraction.” Mandy tiptoed out from behind Watermill.

  “You were supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

  “I got nervous by myself.”

  “You’re surrounded by law enforcement!” Watermill shook his head. “Ah, never mind. I guess it saves me a trip down the hallway to ask you about Spawldine’s jewelry. Are you sure he was missing the ring?”

  “No, but can’t you check?”

  “Hey, guys. Hold up.”

  The morgue attendants stopped halfway in and halfway out of the entry door.

  “Which hand?” He yelled back over his shoulder.

  “Right pinky.”

  Detective Watermill unzipped the body bag and held up the right hand. “Nothing here. I’ll get some uniforms to the pawn shop. The owner said the guy’s still there—holding out for more money.

  “You want to go and greet this mystery fella or should I?” Dayton said.

  “Up to you.”

  “We’re done here for now. You are still my prime suspect, Ms. Thomas. Don’t leave Anchorage.”

  “I’ll keep her with me.” Kat searched her pocket and pulled out an old gum wrapper and a dull pencil. She scrawled something on the wrapper and shoved it at Detective Dayton. “Here’s my cell number if you can’t reach her.”

  “Thanks—I think.” He took the wrinkled rectangle, smelling of mint mixed with berries, and put it in the pocket of his baby-blue Oxford shirt.

  Ken Melbourne paced his hotel room, stopped, and picked up the phone. He dialed Kat’s number. It went to voicemail for the fifth time.

  “Blast it!” he dialed Bart. “Where is she?”

  “Calm down, Melbourne. She’ll call when she gets a minute.” Bart Andersen pushed the elementary school’s request for new gym equipment to the side.

  “She wouldn’t let me know she’s in trouble if I was the last person on earth. I’d have to read about her arrest in the newspaper before she’d admit a problem—and she probably wouldn’t ask for help then. Can you tell me why she can’t let me know when she’s off to get into more trouble?”

  Bart smiled. “I can see her telling you her every
move just about as much as I can see you developing a little patience.”

  Ken dropped onto the mattress that he was sure could have doubled as a steel plank. He felt his vertebrae compress just a little and wondered if he’d lost any height. “Have you talked to her?”

  “No, but Josiah did. Seems the dead guy had a secret room with a demon statue. It’s like she’s a magnet for this kind of stuff.”

  “Heck, man, it seems like your whole family attracts them!”

  “See your point. Anyway, now you know as much as I do.”

  “Thanks.” Ken hung up.

  Andy Binnings picked up on the first ring. Ken explained the circumstances and asked his supervisor to find out about a suspicious death in Anchorage.

  “Why’s this one so important?”

  “Kat’s involved.”

  “Enough said. I’ll call you back.”

  Binnings called him thirty minutes later. “She’s knee-deep in a murder investigation alright,” was how the second conversation started.

  “I’m going to throttle her. Can you find out how deep is deep?”

  “Already did. She’s not an official suspect, but her friend is. The word from my liaison at the police department is she looks suspicious by association. Want me to make a call? I got the lead detective’s number while I was on the phone.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Dayton.” The detective barked into the phone.

  “Andy Binnings with the FBI. I hear you have a certain Katrina Tovslosky in your custody.”

  “Not in custody, but she is here.”

  “Is she under suspicion?”

  “Haven’t decided yet.”

  “Maybe I can help. It would be a grave error on your part to arrest her if you are not 100 percent sure she’s involved. Such a mistake would reflect on the entire APD—and not in a good way.”

  “I would not railroad anyone. The fact is, she’s only under suspicion because of her knowledge about some of the facts in this case.”

  “What does she know?”

  “More than most about the occult. And this case smacks of the occult.”

  “Have her call me right away.”

  “You know where to find us.” Kat whispered in Dayton’s ear and headed to the door.

  Detective Dayton held up his hand. “Got it. No, thank you.” He punched end on the cell phone. “Seems a certain FBI official has called to make sure you are not in need of assistance.”

  Mandy looked at Kat with a new respect. “When did you make such important friends, KittyKat?”

  “News to me. Who called?”

  “A Chief Binnings. I assured him you were fine, but he wants you to call him anyway.” Dayton retrieved the number from his recent calls. Kat punched it into her phone.

  Binnings’ phone beeped. Kat’s number and name flashed in the Caller ID box.

  “You wanted me to call?” A warm voice with a smiling lilt greeted him. No wonder Melbourne’s smitten. I could fall in love with the voice alone if I weren’t already happily married.

  “Ms. Tovslosky?”

  “Indeed. What did you say to Detective Dayton? He’s acting a little scared of me.”

  “I just let him know someone is watching out for you.”

  “Ken called you, right? He shouldn’t have! I am doing fine here.”

  “Glad to hear it. Just want you to know you don’t have to do this alone and if you need help, I’m a phone call away. My cell phone is with me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep it close. Since I’m sure your next phone call will be to Ken, would you let him know I’m not happy with his involving you?”

  Binnings smiled at the spunk in Kat’s tone. Her grit would have been the second trigger to fall in love with this one—the combination is rare and lethal to a bachelor. “Sure will. Still, call if you need anything.”

  “How many nice-guy guardian angels does one woman need?” Kat asked Mandy.

  “Somehow law enforcement and nice guy don’t seem right when used together.”

  “You need to get a normal life. It may change your opinion of certain professions.”

  “If I get out of this one without going to jail for life, I will work on it.” Mandy held up her right hand in a girl-scout pledge.

  Dayton waited to approach Kat until she was deep in conversation with Mandy. “Everything okay at the FBI?” he asked.

  “Just fine. Overprotective people are the theme of my life.” Kat smiled at Dayton. She had grown to both admire and like this man in a few short hours. Anyone who could look like a present-day Columbo and fool her with the act warranted respect.

  Dayton smiled in relief. “Well, let’s get you out of here then.” He walked Kat and Mandy down the sidewalk. “Keep in touch.”

  “You can count on it.”

  Mandy slammed her car door and exhaled. “I’m in trouble on so many levels.”

  “You don’t know trouble. If you‘d stayed with Grady Spawldine, his kind of a mess would have killed you—and you would have never seen it coming—Mandy-bear.” Kat used the nickname for the first time since she’d arrived.

  “What do you mean? A suspect in a murder investigation trumps anything I can think of.”

  “Being lunch for a supernatural, invisible killer trumps anything this world can throw at you. And, my friend, if you had stayed with Spawldine, it looks like you might have ended up just like him—or worse.”

  “When did you lose your rational mind, Kat? Are you getting help?”

  “Not the kind you’re thinking. When we get back to the Cove, I’ll introduce you to a new guy and have you sit and chat with him and Grandma over a nice lunch. Then we’ll discuss the kind of help I’ve received.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  “Me either, Mandy girl, me either.”

  Mandy jogged through the back door of the oddities shop toward the jingling telephone on the counter. She dropped the phone and whooped into the dusty silence.

  “What?”

  “They got the guy. He confessed to killing Spawldine—a burglary gone bad. He told Dayton that Grady came out of his study while he was looking for a TV or something he could hock. He said Grady came out of nowhere—Dayton thinks it’s probably because he was in the secret room—anyway the intruder latched onto the first thing he could find and beaned him.”

  “Sounds a little too convenient.” Kat questioned the coincidence—history told her there were none. There you go again. Stop it! Life is not all about the supernatural. She sighed and felt a weight lift right before a new one descended. They were returning to the Cove. Bart would be faced with Mandy and all those feelings he’d had for her. And Nyna might be in for the heartbreak of her life. Kat knew Mandy well enough to know Mandy had to have a man in her life, and she lived by the motto of “all’s fair in love and war.”

  Mandy read the concern on Kat’s face. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Kat smiled. “Let’s get you ready and back to the Cove.”

  The entire time they were packing the car, Kat couldn’t shake the feeling a storm was heading into the Cove and Mandy, somehow, was the eye of the tempest. God help us, she thought as she got behind the wheel of Wendy’s Subaru and headed south.

  Chapter 3

  A Necessary Alliance

  Ivy June Coistrell flopped onto the second-hand couch and tossed the gray wig and snake-adorned cane to her side. “Good riddance for now, Madame Piquant,” she said. She snagged an oversized red and cream tapestry bag with her toe, dragged it close, and scooped a detailed figurine from the bag.

  “You are going to make me rich, Lilith.” She planted her lips on the woman’s mouth.

  A light rap, rap prompted Ivy June to stuff the small statue deep into her carpet bag.

  “Ivy, open the door!” A deep voice boomed from the hallway.

  Ivy swung the door open and hissed through clenched teeth, “shut up! What, are you stupid? No one here calls me by my re
al name!”

  “Sorry, Madame Piquant.” Detective Carson Watermill strode into the rundown apartment and made himself at home on a worn and tattered wing chair.

  Ivy June slammed the door. “Why are you here, anyway? Thought you didn’t want us to be within fifty city blocks of each other.”

  “I don’t. But this couldn’t wait. Mandy Thomas has been cleared so she left Anchorage. She’s a loose thread and needs to be clipped.”

  “If she’s gone, then what’s the problem?” Ivy June plopped back onto the old couch.

  “You were sloppy, Ivy June. They found fingerprints at Spawldine’s house.”

  “So? Madame Piquant was requested to hold a séance. She did.”

  “Those fingerprints don’t belong to Madame Piquant. They belong to Ivy June Coistrell. And she’s wanted for robbery and murder in Oregon.”

  Ivy June pulled the statue from her bag. “What should I do, Queen of the Damned?”

  Watermill lunged. “How did you get that? Are you trying to get us both thrown in jail?”

  Ivy June held the statue at arm’s length. “This is my insurance. I don’t want to end up like Mr. Spawldine.” She pulled a gun from underneath the couch cushion and leveled it at Watermill’s stomach. “So is this.”

  Watermill threw up his hands. “Okay. Keep the horrid thing! Just put the gun away.”

  Ivy June lowered the gun. “About the guy in Oregon, it was him or me.”

  “If you hadn’t been robbing his house, he wouldn’t have tried to take your life.”

  “It was still self-defense.”

  “Was Spawldine self-defense?”

  “His demise was your idea, remember? Still, I wouldn’t have agreed to arrange it if he hadn’t figured out my scam—plus he had something I wanted. It sure was easy to convince that guy there was a lot in it for him. If he’d get me just one thing.” Ivy June smiled at the figurine.

  “You do not even know what the statue is about. I do. It’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  “I know enough. You were willing to find me and use me to get to Spawldine when you knew he had it. That means it’s worth a lot. And I want my cut.”

  “If you live to see it. There’s a certain society that has kept to itself for hundreds of years. The statue is a direct link to them. Do you think they’d think twice about silencing you permanently?”