Death Opens a Window

by Mikel J. Wilson

  Jeff bookended Emory’s face with his hands, stepping on his toes as he tractor-beamed his partner’s eyes with a bright green glare. “Are you one hundred percent certain that you want to return to that job? I was there after you got fired. I know how hurt you were. I’d hate to see you go through that again.”

  “Sixty-five percent.”

  Jeff dropped his hands and smiled. “Then thirty-five percent of you wants to stay. I can work with that.”

  Emory held a hand out to his shivering partner. “Where’s your rental? I’ll get your coat.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of getting my own coat.” Jeff pulled the key fob from his pocket. “Just wait here.”

  Emory watched as Jeff staggered to the left and clicked the fob to disarm a compact to his right. His partner changed directions, waving back at Emory, and that’s the last thing he saw before stars filled his eyes. Emory’s legs buckled, but the wall behind him kept him from falling. What’s going on?

  Dazed, he spotted Jeff running toward him. “Are you okay?”

  Emory wasn’t sure. “What happened?”

  Holding his partner’s shoulders, Jeff nodded to his right. “That guy just walked by and clocked you with his elbow.”

  Emory hadn’t noticed but sometime after they exited the club, the two guys who had been glaring at them as they shot tequila had followed. The taller one now wore a green jacket over his sleeveless polo, lighting a cigarette and laughing with his friend in the denim jacket.

  Incredulous, Emory asked, “You hit me?”

  The polo guy took a drag of his cigarette before responding. “You people don’t belong here.”

  “You son of a…” Jeff lurched toward Emory’s attacker.

  Emory grabbed his arm. “You’re too drunk. Stay here.”

  The polo guy laughed. “That’s right. You don’t want any of this.”

  The denim jacket guy chimed in, “Maybe he does.”

  Emory growled, “This is my fight.”

  The polo guy dropped his cigarette and readied his fists, while his friend seemed to sidestep the impending conflict. As soon as Emory stepped within range, the guy shot a fist toward his face.

  Emory deflected it and torpedoed him with a torso jab and a left hook, dropping the polo guy to his ass.

  The denim jacket guy came from the sidelines to shove Emory into the wall. He followed it with a barrage of erratic punches, most of which were deflected or inflicted minimal damage.

  Before the polo guy could double-team Emory, Jeff rushed to his aid. The polo guy readied a fist for Emory but delivered it to Jeff instead. Perhaps numbed from his blood alcohol content, Jeff didn’t flinch when the knuckles connected with his jawline. Jeff responded in kind.

  Again the polo guy ended up on the ground, soon followed by his friend.

  As the PIs waited for the instigators to rise again, blue lights began strobing the scene. Emory turned to face the approaching police cruiser and noticed that a small crowd of onlookers had formed from the bar patrons. A few moments later, Emory and Jeff were being questioned by a policeman, while a second officer questioned the other two men.

  The clean-shaven, red-headed policeman asked Emory, “So he just hit you out of the blue? No reason?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t even see it. My eyes were on the parking lot. Next thing I know, I’m seeing stars.”

  Jeff said, “I saw it all. He walked up from behind Emory and elbowed his face once he got beside him. That’s when I came to help.”

  “Had you exchanged words with them?” the officer asked.

  “No. Not until after he hit me.”

  “And then we kicked their asses!” Jeff yelled in the direction of the other guys.

  “Sir, how much have you had to drink?”

  Emory answered for him, “I came here to drive him home.”

  “If you had no previous contact, why did he hit you?”

  Jeff responded, “Why do you think? He didn’t like seeing us together.”

  The officer eyed them both before uttering, “Oh.” He turned his attention to his approaching partner.

  The dark-haired, mustached officer glared at Emory. “The young man said he was defending himself.”

  “What?!” the PIs responded in unison.

  “He said you grabbed his ass.”

  “I did not!” Emory insisted. “I never touched him until he hit me, and I certainly never touched him anywhere below the belt.”

  “Well, it’s your word against his. If we take him to jail, we’re going to have to take you too. Do you want to go to jail?”

  “That’s bullshit!” yelled Jeff.

  The mustached officer took a step back and placed a hand on his gun. “Lower your tone, or we’ll take you too.”

  Seeing Jeff’s mouth open, Emory shook his head in a warning not to say another word.

  The officer dropped his hand before facing Emory again. “Do you want to go to jail?”

  Emory grimaced at him. “No.”

  “Okay. We’ll consider this matter dropped.”

  Once the officers walked away, Jeff asked, “Why did you do that? You’re innocent!”

  “Which we might be able to prove later but not before spending a night in jail.” Emory saw the mustached officer shaking hands with his grinning attacker. “Let’s just go.”

  A young man in a beanie approached the PIs and told Emory, “Dude, you need to know something. That guy you were fighting said that you two are gay, and then that cop with the mustache told him to say that you grabbed his ass.”

  “He did?” asked Emory.

  “Yeah man. You should file a complaint or something.” The man in the beanie held up his phone. “I took a picture of him if you want it, and I don’t mind being a witness.”

  “Absolutely,” said Jeff. “Thank you.”

  Emory shook his head. “I appreciate it, but I just want to forget it.”

  “Forget it?!” Jeff grabbed one of Emory’s shoulders. “Are you crazy?”

  “Drop it!” With that, Emory walked away.

  Virginia woke up shivering. As she crawled her way out of a dream state, she wondered why the right side of her face was numb and why she had such a headache. She rubbed her forehead, trying to massage the pain away, but all she got was a wet hand.

  “What is that?” she uttered in a raspy voice.

  She pushed herself out of bed, but it wasn’t her bed. In fact, it wasn’t a bed at all.

  Her hands were in an inch of snow, and she was sitting on the ground. She looked around for a light but saw only darkness. She peered toward the sky for starlight, but all she saw was a circular patch of stars above her head. “Oh my god. I’m in a hole!”

  With hands stretched before her, she walked to the nearest side and felt it for a way to climb out. Every surface was too smooth to grip. “Damn!”

  She heard something. Something faint. Now it was gone. She heard it again – only this time it was louder and longer, like moaning.

  She tripped and fell on top of something – something that crackled under her weight. Her eyes adjusted until she realized she was now face to face with a skeleton.

  Virginia screamed.

  Chapter 26

  With a few exceptions during a recent bout of insomnia the previous month, Emory Rome always woke up before his alarm went off – sometimes by mere minutes and other times by an hour or more. Regardless, he set the alarm every night – either because he didn’t trust himself or he didn’t trust what had always been would continue to be.

  As soon as he awoke, he walked into his living room to turn on music from the Bluetooth speaker synced to his phone. From there, he proceeded to the bathroom for a shower. As the water pelted his body, he noticed intermittent anomalies with the sound. “What’s wrong with the music? Is it echoing?” The longer it went, the more it bothered him – not enough to step out of the shower but enough to rush through it.

  Still dripping and with a towel cinched around his perfect
waist, Emory stepped into the center of the living room. Sounds like I’m in a stadium. He snapped his fingers to see if he could determine the location of whatever was picking up the sound and sending it back to the speaker. He snapped again and again as he walked around the room until he found the origin of the reverberation. It was a painting of two silhouettes walking down a puddled, lamp-lit street inside a carved wooden frame. Emory pulled the painting from the wall and examined it. He noticed one of the street lamps was out. He drew his eyes closer and realized that something black and circular was stuck over the light. He tugged at it and peeled off an electronic device about half an inch in diameter and a quarter-inch thick. He clasped the device within his fist and mouthed the words, “A bug!”

  His mind flashed to the ski-masked intruder. That’s why he was here!

  Emory ran into the kitchen and put a glass under the tap. As it filled with water, he squinted at the bug to discern any identifiers that would indicate who had planted it. He saw some markers, but they weren’t clear. Turning off the water, he held the bug at the rim of the glass and contemplated dropping it inside. If I do this, they’ll know I found it. I should wait until I find out who’s behind it.

  Startled by a knock on the door, he lost his grip on the bug, and it sunk to the bottom of the glass. So much for that. Who could that be? Maybe they realized I found the bug!

  From the shoulder holster hanging over the corner of his desk’s hutch, he pulled out his gun and crept toward the door. He looked through the peephole and lowered his weapon to answer the door. “Mom. Dad. What are you two doing here?”

  “Emory!” Lula Mae was about to hug him when she saw the gun in his hand.

  Sheriff Rome eyed the weapon and scolded Emory with his eyes. “You always armed when you answer the door?”

  “Sorry.” Emory didn’t have a convenient place to put it, so he holstered it at his waist inside the hem of the towel.

  While his wife hugged Emory, Sheriff Rome explained the reason for their visit. “I had to come up on business to file some papers with the state, and Lula Mae called in sick so she could join me.”

  As his mother broke away, Emory saw that her blouse was damp from his wet torso. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “Lord, don’t worry about it. It’ll dry.”

  “Perhaps we best shake.” The sheriff extended his hand. “We thought maybe we could take you to breakfast, but it took us longer than expected to get here.”

  “Breakfast sounds great.” Emory returned his gun to its holster.

  Emory heard his mother ask, “Don’t you have to get to work?” as he retreated to the kitchen to fish the bug from the glass of water.

  “Don’t worry about it.” With the bug concealed in his hand, Emory reemerged from the kitchen. “I have time for breakfast. I’ll just give the office a call and let them know I’ll be late.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “Son, we don’t want you to be late.”

  Emory picked up his cell phone from his desk. “It’s fine. It’ll keep up my streak.” He dialed the number, and as it rang, he found his magnifying glass in the top drawer. He was about to speak on the phone when he realized Virginia wasn’t talking on the other end. “It’s going right to voicemail. Virginia, this is Emory. My parents drove up from Barter Ridge, and I’m going to take them to breakfast before I come in. I won’t be too late.” He hung up the phone. “Y’all just make yourself comfortable, and I’ll get dressed.”

  Once inside his bedroom, Emory gave the bug a closer inspection with the magnifying glass. Oh my god. He found the telltale sign. Along the edge of the bug was an etching of three intertwined triangles. Aesir. This is the TBI!

  With gentle steps, Jeff descended the spiral staircase from his apartment to his office. Although showered and dressed, he moved like a sloth and squinted his eyes as if he had just fallen out of bed. Wake up! He slapped himself a couple of times and carved out a smile before entering the reception area, but his cheeks dropped when he found the room empty. “Where the hell are they?”

  Jeff checked the clock to verify his two partners were indeed late. He saw a silhouette in the sunlight transuding through the heavy cotton curtains covering the window by the door. “Who is that?” He unlocked the door and opened it to see an old woman standing there. “Could I help you?”

  From the pocket of her mud-colored cloak with tattered hems, Mary Belle Hinter presented the business card Emory had given her. “I wanna see Em’ry Rome.” She entered the office, pinging the floor with her copper cane as she walked. “I didn’t think you was e’er gonna open. Don’t git people who don’t greet the morning’s blessing.”

  Jeff retorted, “It’s just after nine.”

  “Sun rises for a reason.” She walked around the place as if she were looking for something. As she did, she snarled at the décor, grazed the furnishings with her crackled fingers and sniffed the books. “This here writhen shop gits me swimmy-headed, but it smells good.”

  “Okay, I have no idea what you just said. Who are you?”

  “Mary Belle Hinter.”

  How do I know that name? That’s it! She’s one of the displaced property owners. The witch. “Why are you here?”

  “Guessin’ your ears ain’t up yet.” She raised her voice to repeat, “I’m waitin’ for Em’ry Rome!”

  Jeff covered his ears. “Not so loud. Look, I know you’re here for Emory. I’m his partner. Since Emory isn’t here yet, is there something I can help you with?”

  Ms. Mary Belle gave the place another quick glance. “You seen m’ ’andbasket?”

  “You didn’t have a handbasket with you?”

  “I knowed that! I ain’t a fool!”

  Jeff covered his ears again. “Seriously, inside voices. What’s so important about this handbasket? Is it your ride to Hell?”

  “Em’ry took it. I wan’ it back.”

  “Well, you’re going to have to talk to him about that because I haven’t seen it. And before you ask, I don’t know when he’ll be in or even if he’ll be in.”

  “I ain’t got time ta wait more. Home folks come lookin’ fer me. You need ta he’p me with m’ one other problem.”

  Jeff smirked at her. “You just have one other?”

  “Paper said they auctionin’ m’ land. I gotta git it back. I’m worried someone’s gonna snatch it from me. I need to git there and spell it so no one’ll want it.”

  Jeff touched his chest. “And you want me to take you?” Ms. Mary Belle nodded. “You have a nephew that’s caring for you, right?” He didn’t wait for the answer. “Can’t he take you?”

  “He ain’t answerin’ his phone. Left messages.”

  “Can’t you just spell the property from here?”

  “Better if I’m there.”

  “But if you’re as a powerful a witch as I’ve heard, couldn’t you just maybe hold something that came from there?”

  The old woman thought for a moment before speaking. “I do got m’ charms.”

  Jeff crossed his arms. “I haven’t seen them.”

  “They in m’ purse.” She creaked onto a chair and pulled a bluish rock from her crocheted purse.

  “What’s that?”

  “Glowstone. It has magic prop’ties. Channels it.” Clasping the rock in her contorted fingers, Ms. Mary Belle closed her eyes and chanted.

  Jeff pointed his palms to the floor. “I didn’t actually mean here here. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable outside?”

  “Shh! Spirits cain’t hear o’er your yammerin’ on and on.”

  “Can you let them know they don’t have an appointment?”

  “Hush!”

  Resigned, Jeff took a seat at Emory’s desk and waited for the stubborn woman to finish her vain act of repulsion. His eyes wandered from her to the framed picture of Emory’s birth mother. Emory has your cheeks. Your eyes. Same shape, same determination, same suppressed fear – like an escaped captive. What happened to you? To you both?

  When he again glanced
at Ms. Mary Belle, she was still entranced. How long is this going to last? I don’t have time for this. He pushed away from the desk and opened the bookshelf door to his office. Taking a seat and scooting up to the desk, he turned on his computer and searched the shared case file for a phone number. The cell number listed for Luke Hinter went right to voicemail, so he called the work number.

  “Neyland and McKay,” the woman on the other end of the line answered.

  “Neyland and McKay? What kind of company is this?”

  “We’re a commodities brokerage. Can I help you?”

  “Yes, I’m calling for Luke Hinter.”

  “Please hold. I’ll connect you.”

  The phone rang three times before connecting to voicemail. “You’ve reached Luke Hinter. I’m out of the office on vacation until the fifteenth. Please leave a message, and I’ll call you as soon as I’m back. If you need immediate assistance—” Jeff hung up before the message ended.

  Still looking at his phone, Jeff opened his photo album and flipped to the picture that Emory’s mother had sent him. The image of the cowboy hat and beautiful face beneath it ticked up the corners of his mouth. Jeff’s modest mirth was momentary, as he felt a presence staring at him. “Whoa! What are you doing? Are you finished?”

  Now standing beside him, Miss Mary Belle peered into Jeff’s face. “I know that look.” She retrieved another bluish rock from her purse, but this one was attached to a thin leather strap. “Here. Wear this ’round your neck. It gives the hurt a place ta go so it leaves you ’lone.”

  Her words sparked a subdued but genuine smile from Jeff, who took the amulet. “Thank you.”

  The old woman cranked open her palm. “Ten dollars.”

  “Ten… I thought it was a gift.”

  “Why would I gift you? I ain’t sweet on you. Magic costs.”

  “Whatever.” Jeff shook his head and paid her. “Are you done?”

  She nodded. “Ready for you ta take me back.”

  “Me? How’d you get here?”

  “Took the damn bus.”

  Jeff sighed. “Let’s go.”