by Harper Lin
“Well, at least take a slice of pie home for dessert.” Aunt Astrid cut him a thick slice. It was almost half the pie. There went the slice I’d planned to take home myself to have for breakfast.
“I’m going to go check on Jake.” Bea headed toward the stairs. “Will we see you tomorrow for breakfast, Blake?”
“Yes. It’s my turn to drive, so I’ll be here at the regular time.”
Bea smiled and waved good-bye then went to tend to her husband.
I stepped on the wooden step stool Bea kept in the corner of the kitchen and pulled a Tupperware box down, handing it to my aunt. She gently scooped the pie into the container, snapped it shut, and handed it to Blake with a smile.
“How is the new puppy?” she asked, making me do a double take.
“You have a dog?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes.” He looked more at Aunt Astrid than me. “I picked him up from that animal shelter you visit so often.”
“Old Murray’s place?” I couldn’t help but smile. Old Murray had often taken in Treacle after he’d been out tomcatting around for a couple of nights. He’d given Treacle a nice brushing before I’d come to pick him up. He took very good care of all his animals, which was important to me.
“Yes.” Blake finally looked at me. “He’s not really a puppy, though. Mr. Murray had told me he was hoping someone would rescue the canine soon, and when I heard that…” He looked back at Aunt Astrid. “I had to take him home with me.”
“You are a good man, Detective. What did you name him?” my aunt asked, smiling.
“I was told his name was Frank. I thought it fit.”
“What kind of dog is he?” I asked.
“I wasn’t really looking for a specific breed,” Blake snapped back.
“No, I didn’t think you were. I just wondered if he was—”
“I mean if I wanted a purebred, I would have gotten one.”
“Well, yeah, of course, but—”
“It has been proven over and over that mutts often display higher levels of intelligence than even the most highly trained German shepherd or Doberman.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Aunt Astrid piped up. That comment earned her a glare from me.
“Okay, well, that was all…” Before I could even finish the sentence, Blake had his king-size slice of pie in his hands and was heading toward the front door.
“I really have to get going. Please tell Jake I’ll swing by Mrs. Roy’s house tonight and check on her. Thanks again for the pie.” And out the door he went.
I looked at my aunt. She just smiled at me and began cleaning up the kitchen.
“Okay, you were here,” I said. “You saw how he acted toward me. What is that guy’s problem?”
“I’m really not sure what you’re talking about, Cath. Detective Samberg is a very intense man. He’s single. He’s used to things being a certain way. His line of work must be stressful and demanding, so that’s how he copes.”
“Why are you sticking up for him?” I asked while running water in the sink so I could help rinse off the dirty dishes. I handed each one to my aunt, who then loaded them into the dishwasher. “He’s never nice to me.”
“Oh, you’re exaggerating.”
“You heard him just now.” I shook my head in defeat. “You can’t ask that guy a simple question without getting some kind of condescending dissertation as a reply.”
My aunt chuckled. Just then, Bea appeared.
“How’s the big guy doing?” I asked.
“He’s all right. Tired. That kind of news makes the body feel like it just ran a marathon it hadn’t trained for. He’s washing up, and I told him to get into bed, put on some old movie, and leave the tube on until he falls asleep. His mind needs to zone out for a little while.”
She picked up the bowl my salad had been in and brought it to me at the sink. “Thanks for helping.”
I furrowed my eyebrows. “Of course. You look like you’ve got something else on your mind.”
Bea was so much more to me than my cousin. She was my best friend, and as scary as it might be, she knew more about my past than anyone else. I trusted her with it. I was able to confide in her, knowing that if I asked her to keep something under her hat, no other soul would ever pull that secret from her. And of course, the feeling was mutual.
So when I saw her face with a few extra worry wrinkles around the eyes, I had to ask.
“I’m wondering why this is bothering Jake so much.” She climbed up on one of the stools at her island and sat down. “He’s usually pretty good at leaving the office at the office, you know. But this… this is different. There’s a bee in his bonnet.”
“Well, you take care of him, and we’ll get out of your hair,” Aunt Astrid said, wiping her hands on a towel then handing it to me to do the same. She walked over to the corner of the room and scooped up the heavy Persian cat. Marshmallow purred her approval and nuzzled my aunt’s chin.
“Call me if you need me,” I said to Bea.
“Even if I don’t, I might call you anyways.” She leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek. Then she hugged her mom, scratched Marshmallow’s head, and we left the house.
The sun set earlier at this time of year, and the temperature had dropped a good ten degrees since we’d arrived at Bea’s house around five o’clock that evening. My long-sleeve blouse was barely enough material to keep out the chill.
Someone on the block had their fireplace burning. The smell of the smoldering wood brought back memories of Halloweens past and piles of fall leaves that I had jumped in over the years.
“The air smells good,” I said, walking my aunt to her house. I looked at her when she didn’t reply. “What’s on your mind?”
Still, my aunt said nothing. She just looked ahead as we walked across the street.
“She sees something,” Marshmallow said. “Something is coming.”
“Is it bad or good?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But it’s weaving in and out of the dimensions. She’s looking but can’t seem to get a lock on it.”
“Does it have anything to do with Jake? Or Mr. Roy?”
“It’s too early to tell.”
“What was that you were saying, Cath?” Aunt Astrid finally asked.
“Oh, I was just babbling about how much I like fall. What were you looking at?”
“I’m not sure yet, honey. It might be nothing, but then again…”
Standing at the edge of my aunt’s porch, I waited in the warm yellow glow of her porch light as she let herself and Marshmallow inside.
“See you at the café tomorrow,” she said waving. She would shut the door then stand in the window and watch me cross the street again, and let myself into my own home. It was a ritual, ensuring everyone made it home safely.
Once my key had flipped the lock and I switched the foyer light on, I waved back to her, stepped inside, and locked the door behind me.
I went and turned on a couple of lights, making sure everything looked as though it was where it should be. Then I heard scratching at my kitchen window.
“I wonder who that is?” I asked out loud.
Pulling the curtain aside, I saw those jade-green eyes I had grown to love. Flipping the latch, I slid the window and the screen up, and in came Treacle.
“It’s getting cold out there,” I said to him.
“Yes, it is. I’m hungry.”
“Okay, how about some yummy salmon and bacon Friskies?”
“Yes, yes, yes.” He purred, rubbing his head back and forth against my leg.
After Treacle had filled his belly and begun his grooming process, we both curled up in my bed to watch a black-and-white movie about a detective, a double-cross, and a damsel in distress.
“So, what’s new in the world?” I asked Treacle. “Anything exciting going on out there?”
Treacle looked at me with contented, sleepy eyes, his tail gently waving as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Actually, no,” he replie
d. “And that in itself is a little weird.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, it might be nothing, but I saw the curler lady out raking leaves.”
“You mean Mrs. Greene?”
Mrs. Greene got her newspaper every morning while she still had curlers in her hair, and not the trendy new soft kind that someone could practically sleep in. We were talking the old-fashioned, plastic, bristly kind that poked your head.
“Yeah, she was out raking her leaves,” Treacle said. “I followed a field mouse into her wood pile, and while I was waiting it out, I watched her. It was like she kept raking the same spot over and over again. Then the next day, I happened to be at the same wood pile, and it was like she hadn’t moved from the day before.”
“That is a little weird,” I said. “But Mrs. Greene is a little weird, so I don’t know if that is a good example.”
“True.”
“It might just be the season.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s it.” Treacle didn’t sound convinced.
I fell asleep with the television on and woke up an hour later to some infomercial about a new way to chop onions. Grabbing the remote, I flipped off the set. Treacle was still in bed next to me, and when I stirred, his purring started as if a switch had been flipped somewhere on his body.
I reached down and scratched his ears. “Good night, Treacle.”
“Good night, Cath.”
We both slept soundly and didn’t wake up until the sun was on the horizon. After I got up, I let Treacle outside, and off he went in the direction of heaven only knew what. I got dressed in my denim finery and a soft, warm sweater and headed toward the center of town where the Brew-Ha-Ha Café was located.
It only took me about fifteen minutes to get there at a casual stroll. And my odometer was always set to casual stroll. But as I walked, I felt something different in the air, as though nothing was moving but me. There was no breeze. No cars were going down the street, and none of my neighbors were out and about performing their own morning rituals of opening garage doors or picking up newspapers.
I tried to remember if I had ever seen that little activity at that time of day. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was definitely something in the air that made me feel as though something was wrong.
I knew that sounded like nonsense.
But just wait. It gets better.
Black-Eyed Kids
That day was the first of October. The Brew-Ha-Ha Café was decorated for Halloween on the first of October every year it had been open. I expected to see Bea and Aunt Astrid already busy at work in the windows, hanging black streamers with elegant orange-and-yellow baubles on the ends, or arranging the spooky little glass town with its graveyard and haunted mansion.
Instead, I saw a dark café. Even Kevin, our baker, who was always on time if not early, was just pulling in as I unlocked the front door.
“Yikes!” he called to me, waving from his car window. “Don’t know what happened there. I overslept or something.”
“No worries.” I waved back. “Looks like you aren’t the only one. I’ll get the back door for you.” I smiled at him as I stepped inside the front door. Making my way through the café, I hurried to the kitchen, flipped on the two ovens to get them warmed up, and unlocked the back entrance for Kevin.
He was a pleasant guy who really knew his way around a kitchen. Even if he showed up at noon and insisted on wearing a tiara and heels as he worked, it would be near impossible to meet someone who was as gifted in the baking department as he was.
I went back up to the front of the shop and began pulling out the Halloween decorations that were stored in the short hallway leading to our cellar, which we referred to as our secret bunker. There were seven boxes in total. As the coffee began to brew and the ovens began to give off a warm, wonderful smell of bread and pie, I started decorating and wondered where the rest of my family was.
Finally, at about ten minutes to seven, the time we opened, Bea came rushing in.
“My gosh!” she said. “I’m so sorry I’m late! Mom is right behind me!”
“Yeah, right? What the heck, girl?” I teased. “I think you were late once about ten years ago. This kind of insubordination just won’t be tolerated. You can bet it’s going in your permanent file.”
“No, not that!”
We both giggled.
“How’s Jake feeling?” I asked while filling the sugar bowls with packets of sugar and placing cute pumpkin and ghost figurines on the tables.
“I want to tell you, but I’m waiting for Mom. You guys are not going to believe what happened this morning.” She shook her head. “When Blake came by, I thought he and Jake would just head off to work together with Jake feeling more like himself. But I saw there was something wrong… Well, just wait for Mom. I don’t want to have to repeat the whole thing twice.”
I nodded and patted her on the back. “Sure.”
I looked at the door, hoping Aunt Astrid was just a few steps away so Bea could let me in on her big to-do. I’d never had much patience. But my aunt wasn’t in view yet, so I had no choice but to wait.
By the time Aunt Astrid showed up, the place was completely decorated. The morning crowd of coffee drinkers and tea sippers had already filled the dining area and formed a line that kept the front door propped open.
Of course we had a busier-than-normal morning. Any other morning, we would have had a steady stream of customers that would have died down around ten o’clock, when everyone was expected at their jobs. But not that day, not when Bea had some juicy bit of excitement to share. Nope. That was when the entire population of Wonder Falls plus a couple of neighboring cities decided they wanted coffee from the Brew-Ha-Ha. It was one o’clock in the afternoon before the place calmed down.
“And so, why were you late, young lady?” I asked my aunt with my hands on my hips, tapping my foot.
Aunt Astrid rolled her eyes. She explained that something, she didn’t know what, was urging her to reinforce the protection spell on all three of our houses.
“I don’t know if I had a dream or a vision in my sleep, but I woke up feeling like there was a slow leak in a tire on my car. Except I don’t have a car.” Bea and I looked at each other. “So, I stepped outside myself for just a moment and…”
“Mom! You know you aren’t supposed to do any astral projection without someone there with you to guide you back if you get lost. Isn’t that what you’ve told Cath and I since we were kids?”
Bea was not joking. If Aunt Astrid projected her consciousness to a dimension or realm outside her physical body, it could have left room for any transient spirit to declare squatter’s rights inside of her. There were certain steps to take that ensured that didn’t happen, and probably the most important was to never do it alone.
“I know. I should practice what I preach. But as you can see, I made it back just fine. And in the few seconds I was out, I saw what looked like a little spiritual wear and tear on the protection spells around our homes.”
Bea folded her arms over her chest and pursed her lips together, letting her mother know she was more than a little disappointed in her reckless behavior.
Aunt Astrid reached out her hand and tenderly rubbed her daughter’s arm. “But as I inspected the damage a bit closer, it no longer looked like old-fashioned wear and tear. It looked like something had been trying to chew its way in.”
“What?” I asked, loud enough that all the patrons in the café looked up at me. “Sorry, folks.” I made a motion that mimicked I was zipping and locking my mouth closed.
“A parasite?” Bea asked.
Aunt Astrid nodded. “A real nasty one too.”
Bea stood at her usual spot behind the counter, close to the register. I was standing in front of the counter, and my aunt was to my left.
“I think you guys better sit down,” Bea said, looking out the glass door to the street. “I have to tell you what Blake told Jake and I this morning over breakfast. I’m afr
aid we might have more to worry about than that.”
My aunt and I looked at each other then quickly took seats at the counter. We all looked around to see if any patrons needed our immediate assistance and decided whatever refill or warm-up they required could wait.
“When Blake left our house yesterday, he said he was going to go and check up on Mrs. Roy and see if she was able to answer some questions.”
According to Bea, Blake had said he’d begun to feel a weird sense of being watched as he maneuvered his way through the fancy Prestwick neighborhood. But since he’d been in a moving vehicle and dealt with the facts and nothing but the facts, he’d shaken it off. He was not like Jake, who had accepted some exposure to the paranormal world just by being married to Bea. But even Jake was on a strictly need-to-know basis. Blake would never consider that something insidious could be lurking around the next dimensional corner, ready to pounce.
Blake said he kept getting turned around in the dark, trying to follow the winding roads yet ending up back at the same place, feeling as though he had jogged right when he’d meant to jog left, unsure of how he’d managed to drive around in a circle.
Finally, at a speed of about five miles an hour, he had made it to the Roy household. Mrs. Roy had been on the phone when he rang her doorbell. She’d smiled weakly but looked sad, and it was obvious to Blake that she had recently composed herself.
At hearing that, I felt a pang in my own heart for Mrs. Roy. I didn’t know her, but I understood her. It was bad enough having lost a loved one to old age when the family was aware the end was coming. Even if a loved one passed from a disease, the family had a little time, even if it was short, to try and adjust. But having someone ripped away from you… that had to be the worst feeling—helplessness. I swallowed hard and tried to focus on what Bea was saying.
After Mrs. Roy let Blake in, she cried some more into the phone as she talked to her mother. She wore a T-shirt and sweatpants, and had no makeup on. Her eyes were puffy, and the house smelled strongly of coffee.
After a few minutes, she hung up the phone and offered Blake a seat in her kitchen. True to his nature, he told Mrs. Roy he was sorry to bother her but needed a few questions answered, then he would leave her to tend to her business.