“Yeah, for all of us,” I replied, slipping on the dress. “Perfect fit, Gertie!”
“At least I got one thing right.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Gertie. Having witchcraft, clones, and flying brooms makes for some wonderful opportunities, but it also opens the door to uncharted territories filled with pitfalls. In the end, we’re only twenty-something-year-old girls trying to figure out our lives. The only difference between us and all the other young women is they’re playing with firecrackers and we have nuclear weapons. Our screw-ups are always epic.”
“I see what you mean, but I still wouldn’t trade you and my other friends for anyone or anything in the world.”
“Same here. Our little group is more than just the sum of our individual friendships, or our unique flaws. It’s more like a gestalt, held together by our magical bond. You know what I mean?”
“Like a team. No, a coven!”
“Exactly. And now our coven has to quit fooling around with clones and get back to finding out why our powers have gone to hell. If I survive my cousin’s wedding.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Breaking News
I’d taken a personal day off on Friday before the wedding, but not to prepare for the Franchetti family festivities. Rather, I wanted to spend some time with Ezzy focusing on our main—yet most neglected—issue.
Weighing the little statue in the palm of my hand, I strolled into the spare bedroom Ezzy had turned into her study. “It’s freaking heavy for a little thing. Are you sure this thing isn’t made of lead?”
She didn’t bother to look at me. Her eyes were focused on an ancient leather bound book, tracing ornate handwriting with a dark red fingernail. “Lead would be dark gray, dull. Might be gold.”
“Ezzy, you are a trip.” I smiled at her appearance. She wore a naughty schoolteacher outfit that consisted of a stretchy, tight black jacket that barely covered her ass, fishnet stockings and shiny black stilettos. She was dead serious about it too, right down to her long red hair tucked up in a bun and thick round framed glasses.
Ezzy always seizes dramatic roles for greatness and she dresses according to her version of the part. I suppose it gives her confidence. Burrowing through ancient witchcraft texts surely dictated something academic and of course, over the top.
“Sorry if I seem distracted, but I think this text may tell me what I’ve been looking for.”
“So that’s the book you brought with you. It’s huge! And it looks ancient.”
“This is the only known copy of the Morningwood Codex,” Ezzy said, removing her fake glasses. “It’s at least eight hundred years old. As you can imagine, it’s one of the Witches Union’s prize possessions. We know it was created by at least a dozen witches. Their goal was to document the origin of witchcraft by compiling ancient legends and obscure texts.”
“So what part piqued your interest?”
“This,” she said, tapping her glasses on a leaf of faded parchment. “Here is an entire section devoted to the study of the Hecate witchcraft cult. I’m trying to get an idea of the movement. What were they all about? This text makes it clear there was a definite dark side to their magic. But were they truly malevolent witches? Maybe not. They could have been devoted followers to an antiquated, orthodox version of the craft.”
“You’re saying they only acted like wicked witches because they thought it was the right thing to do? I agree it’s unfair to judge history if you place those people in the context of today’s society. But does it even matter? I think you’re going off on a tangent, Ezzy.”
“Follow my logic. I think it’s safe to say the strange activity at the museum is directly related to the interference with witchcraft. Thanks to Professor Fuzzbuns, we know Hecate is involved. He mentioned rebuilding her temple. But what do we know about her?”
“Not much. I suppose we can only rely on Barney’s encounter with her at the museum, if that was even Hecate. We don’t know for sure.”
“That’s true, we don’t know for sure. So far we’ve come across a figurine depicting her as well as the professor’s comments. It makes sense that it was Hecate who assaulted Barney. We also have to be open to the idea of her assuming an unconventional form. By that I mean the spectral form Barney witnessed. Now let’s think about Barney’s observation. He said she seemed to be drawing power from somewhere and then depleting it as she zapped him. She must have found a way to tap into our magic, and divert it for herself. So now I’m trying to gain an understanding of her and her long-gone followers. How did they communicate with her? What motivated her? What are her weaknesses and strengths?”
“Wow, great job! You’re a natural detective, Ezzy.”
“Don’t praise me yet. I still need to go through this dusty old book. You can help. How’s your Latin?”
“Uh, no. How about I do some internet research? You’ve got a good handle on this. Keep charging ahead, Ezzy.”
On my way to the living room, I stopped by the kitchen. Gertie was teaching Barney and Gabe 2.0 how to make blueberry pancakes while watching a morning soap opera on the kitchen TV. Brad was washing dishes. “Good morning people. Where’s Randy?”
“You just missed him. He left to pick up his tux,” Brad replied.
Flipping a pancake, Gertie added, “He told me to tell you not to wait up for him. I think he’s going to be doing some gardening afterwards.”
“Gardening?” I asked, dumbfounded.
“I think so. He said he had some hoeing to catch up on.”
“Hoeing around in my very expensive convertible,” I grumbled, pouring a cup of coffee. I snuck up on Brad and gave him a playful nudge. “Up until Gertie told me her sordid tale I had no idea you were such a…”
“Open-minded, trusting person?”
“I was going to say ‘freak.’ But okay, open-minded and trusting person.”
That was the first time I’d seen the big, masculine fireman blush. “Ah, well. I don’t know what all she told you.”
“Girlfriends tell each other everything,” I said, patting his shoulder. “And I mean every single thing! But don’t worry, Brad. I still think you’re a great guy, even if your shining armor has a couple of ‘kinks.’” I added, inserting air-quotes.
Gabe 2.0 was deeply engrossed in pancake-making lessons. I sipped my coffee, letting my eyes take a scenic but familiar anatomical sightseeing tour.
Ezzy joined us in the kitchen, tapping a wooden ruler in the palm of her hand. She walked directly behind Gertie and smacked her butt. CRACK.
“Ouch! Sweet Caroline!” Gertie yelped.
Inspired, Barney crooned, “Good times never seemed so good.”
“What was that for?” Gertie asked, rubbing her battered buttocks as she slowly moved in reverse.
“Sorry, not sorry. You’ve got a cute little ass and I have a ruler. Natural reflex. Someone, caffeinate me.”
Brad and I scrambled to appease the witchy school teacher with coffee. Just as I handed Ezzy a cup, breaking news interrupted the daytime soaps.
“We interrupt your scheduled program with breaking news from Ivan Jerkinov at the Sunny Cheery Morning News Desk.”
Hey!” Gertie shouted. “We were just about to see what happens when Laura wakes up from her coma and finds out her poodle fathered fourteen puppies while he had amnesia.”
“I thought her cat had amnesia.” Barney scratched his slick bald head.
“No, her cat had the split personalities. The poodle had amnesia.”
“Good morning, Chicago. We have sad news to report. The body of University of Chicago’s renowned professor of archaeology, Doctor Eugene Horowitz III, has been found in the Chicago River this morning. I assume that means he is dead. Anyhow, Professor Horowitz rose from academic obscurity to become quite well-known for founding the Pretentious Gourmets, one of Chicago’s most prestigious cooking clubs among the wealthy and elite. As a footnote, a lesser-known of his achievements was the discovery of some ancient temple or whate
ver in Syria or Iraq or one of those dry rocky places over there. Let’s get some meat on this from street-beat reporter, Jenney Talia.”
“Holy fish flakes,” Barney blurted out.
“Thanks, Ivan. I’m here on Wacker and La Salle with Detective Joe Palermo of the Chicago PD. Detective Palermo, can you tell us why there is so much hubbub over this seemingly ordinary drowning?”
“Well, Jenney, the events leading up to the discovery of the victim are what make this situation unique. We responded to a call about thousands of dollars in cash floating in the river. Our main concern, of course, was to stop the good people of Chicago from jumping into the river to get their hands on all that moolah.”
“Were you worried they’d remove evidence? Perhaps from a bank robbery?”
“No. We were worried about their safety. Would you jump in that water? Jesus! Can’t you smell it? Fish can’t even survive in there. Anyway, the money was floating up from a single source at the bottom. We sent divers in to take a look. God help them. They’re at the hospital now getting shots. Anyway, they found the old man’s body, along with dozens of empty bags. I assume they held the cash.”
“Is foul play suspected?”
“Oh yeah. This was an old-school mob whack job. Come here and let me show you.”
The camera followed Detective Palermo to the coroner’s vehicle. He opened the back door and lifted the sheet from the professor’s lifeless body.
“Take a look at his legs, Jenney. I think his pants were filled with cement before they threw him in. Poor bastard. He was easy enough to identify. Nobody but Horowitz has hair like that.”
The reporter’s face turned as green as the Chicago River on Saint Patrick’s Day. I was sure she was going to vomit.
“Whew. Thank you for the gory details and showing us the deceased victim. Is there anything else you’d like to tell me before we cut back to Ivan Jerkinov at the Sunny Cheery Morning News Desk?”
“As long as you asked, Jenney, yes. See, my cat ran away so I was wondering, can I come over and play with your pussy?”
The screen went black. In the background we could hear Detective Palermo caterwauling like a wounded animal.
After a few seconds, the broadcast returned to Gertie’s soap opera.
I was speechless.
“Holy homicide,” Ezzy mumbled.
“Wow,” Barney said, flatly. “That was one hell of a newscast. Did you clone Horowitz more than once, Ezzy?”
“Of course not. Why?”
“Didn’t you hear what they said? Horowitz the third.”
“Right?” Gertie nudged the imp. “Exactly what I was thinking, Barney.”
“Geesh, you guys.” I shook my head. “The third, as in the third generation of his family with the same name.”
“What’s this world coming to?” Barney asked. “Titles like that are reserved for kings and queens!”
“And popes. Can’t forget about the popes,” Gertie said.
“Imbeciles!” Ezzy barked. “Zip it. We have a problem. Was that the clone? Or was that the professor? Who killed him? And why?”
“Why would the mob kill Professor Horowitz?” Brad asked, throwing another question on the growing pile.
“I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but I say it’s a bit fishy those criminals drowned the poor old man but didn’t take his money. The mob must not recruit very good criminals,” Gertie said, leaning back into Brad.
“Good point, Sunshine,” Brad said, slipping his arms around her. They nearly melted into each other.
I felt like throwing up.
“Damn it, Randy,” I growled. He had my car, our only means of transportation, and I needed to get away. Seeing Gertie and Brad together only reminded me of how much I wished Gabe was there. I wasn’t upset with them. How could I be? They were the sweetest couple, but that didn’t make it any easier. I took note of a taxi-cab shaped refrigerator magnet and made a call. “Come on, Ezzy. We’re going back to that museum to find out which version of Horowitz is sleeping with the fishes.”
“Great idea, Kelly. Barney, do me a favor and take a look at that old book while I’m out. See if you can learn more about Hecate’s cult.”
“And keep this big animal out of trouble,” I said, pulling my hand back from making a reflexive pat on Gabe 2.0’s chest. “Damn.”
“Give me a minute to get changed. I’ve got just the right outfit,” Ezzy said, her eyes gleaming.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Sherlock Holmes
Once the driver dropped us off, we were free to talk about the mystery surrounding the professor’s drowning.
“Gertie had a good point, Ezzy. Since Horowitz was found with all that money, it may not be a murder after all. Just an accident.”
“In the middle of the river? With his pants filled with cement? No way,” she replied, adjusting her Sherlock Holmes Deerstalker cap and smoothing her revealing little tweed detective’s coat. Apparently she hadn’t felt the need to swap out her stockings or stilettos.
“Oh shit, Ezzy! I just thought of something. What if the clone killed him? What if these clones are killer clones? And here I thought killer clowns were all the rage.”
“Relax, Watson. You’re jumping to conclusions. I didn’t add any homicidal tendencies to the clones I created,” she said, knocking on the office door. “No answer.”
“Is the door locked?” I asked, my eyes darting around the campus as I looked for witnesses.
The lock clicked. “Not anymore,” Ezzy said, replacing a bobby pin under her goofy hat.
The office looked pretty much the same as the last time we’d been there, at first glance. Ezzy nosed around, looking through a jumbo-sized magnifying glass. “No sign of foul play. The professor was not abducted from here.”
While Ezzy played Sherlock Holmes, I opened a desk drawer and found a passport. Underneath was an envelope containing a travel itinerary and airline reservations to Bombay, India. “Bingo! Seems like Horowitz was getting ready to go on a trip to India. And he has a travel partner. According to this itinerary, it’s a woman named Sarah Scurvay. Their flight leaves Chicago on Sunday. I wonder who Sarah Scurvay is. A colleague? A girlfriend?”
“Maybe a mistress? If he has a wife who learned of her it would definitely explain his demise. I noticed the bags of money are still here. Most of them, at least. Probably hiding his treasure from his wife.”
“I have an idea.” The office phone had a programmable handset with a display of recent calls. “The last outgoing call made from this phone was only an hour ago. That means the professor is alive and the clone is dead, or someone else came in here to make a call.” I wrote down the number. “I can look it up and see who was receiving the call.”
Using my smart phone, I retrieved the information immediately. I was confused by what I found out.
“And?” Ezzy asked, looking at me through her magnifying glass with an absurdly huge green eye. “Who did he call?”
“Weird. The last five calls from this phone were made to the main number of a hotel called Club Quarter. I wish I knew what extension they were transferred to. Anyway, I know that place. It’s right down by the river, not far from where they pulled out the body.” Disjointed thoughts spun around in my mind, trying to make sense of what the clue could mean. Suddenly, an idea hatched. “My cousin’s wedding reception is being held right across the street. If nothing else, we’ll be able to snoop around that hotel. I really wonder what Horowitz was, or is, up to.”
“You’ve just given me a great idea. We’ll all get rooms for the weekend. No offense, Kelly, but your condo has become rather crowded. I’ll even pick up the tab.” Ezzy hefted a duffle bag of cash, throwing the strap over her shoulder.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that. Other than the airline reservations and the phone calls, what else have we figured out here?”
“I found this Mason jar filled with sand,” Ezzy said, holding it up to the light. “Strange thing to find in an office, wouldn’
t you say?” She nestled it between the loose cash in the shoulder bag.
“Nothing is strange anymore, Ezzy. But I’m guessing you think it has to do with Hecate?”
“Maybe,” she said, eyeballing me through the magnifying glass.
“Let’s update the gang with our plan. I’ll let you take care of the hotel.”
When we returned to my place, Barney greeted Ezzy with a leaping hug. “Babycakes, you are going to love me when you hear this! Get ready. I found out how to bring Hecate to life!”
“Good research, Barney,” Ezzy said, patting him on the head. “Give me a full report.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “Hold on, you two. Bring Hecate to life? Are you kidding me? Let’s not jump the gun here. Wasn’t your goal to find out about Hecate and her motives? The last thing we need to do is summon the spirit of an ancient witch. Especially when we are defenseless.”
Barney cleared his throat with a froggy croak. “When I said I figured out how to bring her to life, I meant I brought her to life. Just to be clear.”
“You what?” Ezzy held him out at arm’s length, hysterically shaking him.
“Ea-ea-easy, ba-ba-baby! I di-didn’t mean to.” Barney’s vibrato pleading was enough to get Ezzy to stop.
“Where is she?” I asked, peeking around the corner.
Barney, stared at the floor, pointing a webby finger in the direction of the living room. “In there, with Gertie,” he said quietly.
“Great,” I mumbled. Hoping for the best, but expecting the worst, I went to meet Hecate.
I did not expect the scene I encountered.
A bronze-skinned young woman, short and a bit heavier-set than Gertie, stood on the coffee table. Her long black hair flowed nearly to her legs. Gertie was pinning up the woman’s flowing green robes as if fitting her for a dress.
Shame of Clones: A Paranormal Romantic Comedy (Karma Inc. Files Book 3) Page 12