by M. Z. Kelly
I took a deep breath and released it slowly, determined to keep my composure. “I’m only going to say this once: Get off my bed, get out of my bedroom, and...” I glanced at his tighty whities. “…put on some clothes.”
He smiled. “You like what you see, don’t you?”
“No,” I said, raising my voice. “Either you get out of here, or...”
A voice behind me said, “Uncle Fred, you need...”
I turned, seeing that Mo was at my bedroom door with Natalie.
Her uncle cut her off. “Would you please get this young woman out of here before she physically attacks me?” He looked at me and smiled. “I know you like what you see, but I’m a good fifty years your senior.” His smile grew wider. “Then again, I could teach you a few things.”
“This here is our friend, Kate,” Natalie said, the outrage in her voice unmistakable. “You best be puttin’ on some britches, Captain Underpants.”
Mo’s uncle rolled his eyes and made a tsking sound. “British women.” He regarded Natalie. “Have you ever even seen a man in the nude? I mean a black man?”
Mo stepped in front of Natalie, probably aware that she was about to join me in pummeling her uncle to death. “Let’s go, Uncle Fred. You can stay in my room. I’ll take the basement until you’re gone.”
After Mo got him on his feet, her uncle held out a hand to me. “Fred Smoot. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He smiled. “By the way, love the lingerie, especially that lacy black thong in the dresser.”
Maybe it was my exhaustion, but I followed Mo and her uncle downstairs, letting loose with a string of obscenities. Natalie joined in, telling Uncle Fred he was all mouth and no trousers, a British expression that was, to some degree, lost on me, but appropriate, given that Fred was still wearing nothing but his undies.
Fred stopped when he got to Mo’s bedroom and turned to us. “I’ve had a wonderful time, but not here.” He farted, then slammed the bedroom door behind him.
Mo, who was wearing a green afro wig, sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Sorry ‘bout this. Uncle Fred’s got himself a bad case of the senior grumpies.”
“Grumpies,” Natalie said. “He’s nothin’ but an old lag who’s a gas bag.”
“How long is he staying?” I asked Mo, my anger finally easing.
“Not sure. Could be a day or two. Maybe a month.”
“A month!” Natalie and I said simultaneously.
“He’s a nutter,” Natalie added. “We can’t put up with him for that long.”
“You need to have a talk with him,” I said. “Being a houseguest is one thing, but taking over my bedroom and going through my underwear is something else.”
Mo heaved out a breath and slumped down on the sofa. “I’ll try, but Fred’s got a mind of his own.”
“So we saw,” I said, taking a seat across from her with Natalie.
Otto appeared with a tray of teas and cookies. He set the repast on the table and said to me, “If you’d like, I could change the bedding in your room and spruce things up a bit.”
“I would be forever grateful,” I said. He disappeared upstairs as I told my friends, “I don’t know what we’d do without Otto.”
“He’s the dog’s bollocks,” Natalie agreed, petting Bernie. She regarded me, seeing the bruise on the side of my head. “You look like you been mugged.”
“Just a run-in with a suspect.”
“The Angel. We heard the dirty lump of cack got away.”
“Unfortunately.”
“Word on the street is he mighta been hooking up with some local girls in his spare time,” Mo said.
“Really? Do you think you could ask around, see if anyone knows anything more?”
“’Course, but we’re a little busy tryin’ to find Jimmy.”
“He’s still in the wind,” Natalie said. “And Myrna’s on the warpath. We’re ‘fraid if she finds Lucky Scarfo, his luck will run out.”
“See if you can get her to back off,” I said. “I asked Leo to look into things, so I’ll follow up with him tomorrow.”
“What’s new with Harlee and her crazy grandfather?” Mo asked. “The city’s got a bad case of the crazies. People are ‘bout ready to jump outta their skin.”
“Joe thinks they’re still in Brazil, but told me they might be getting closer to finding them.”
“And Pearl?”
“No word.”
“Hey, me and Mo heard that Bronson’s nephew, Richard the Turd, is gonna be workin’ with you.”
I sighed. “That’s the rumor.”
The doorbell rang, and the front door opened before we could answer it. I groaned when I saw it was Nana. Our eighty-something former landlord had recently had some work done. The facelift had been successful, until the effects of gravity had caught up with her. She’d gone back for a tune-up, involving lots of Botox that had left her face looking like it was frozen.
“I heard you let that killer get away,” Nana said to me, not bothering to say hello. “What are you going to do about him?”
I didn’t want to discuss the case and simply said, “We’re hoping to find him soon.”
“People are losing faith in the police, especially after the bombings. I’m personally thinking about moving to Australia.”
My eyes brightened. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”
Nana looked at Mo. “Where’s your uncle? We’ve got a date.”
Mo scratched her green wig, her eyes narrowing on her. “You’re kiddin’ me.”
“I don’t kid, especially when it comes to men.”
“Sounds like a match made in heaven,” Natalie said, rolling her eyes again.
Mo’s bedroom door opened, and her uncle appeared. Fred was wearing a white seersucker suit, a wide brimmed hat, and sandals. He removed his hat and bowed to Nana. “I’m ready to show Hollywood how to party.”
As they headed for the door, Nana said, “Don’t wait up for us.” She stopped and looked back at my roommates. “I almost forgot. The lip sync war is scheduled a week from Saturday night. You two need to decide on a song.” She looked at me. “Maybe you can do a number as Lady Gaga, or maybe I should say Lady Gag Gag.” She and Fred laughed before slamming the door behind them.
“Lip sync war?” I said to my friends. “What’s going on?”
Mo gave me a sheepish look. “It’s that Kids In Crisis charity event we told you ‘bout. We gotta start practicin’, so we don’t make fools of ourselves.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Why me?” I saw that Otto had come downstairs, after cleaning up my room. “I’m going to bed and don’t plan on waking up until morning, so try to keep it down.”
As I headed upstairs, I heard Natalie say to Mo, “I just had me a bloody brilliant idea. We should lip sync that song Whip It and include your Uncle Fred in the number.”
TWENTY-THREE
My plans for a good night’s sleep ended at two in the morning when I got a call from Joe. “Greer wants everyone at the airport, ASAP.”
“What’s up?” I asked, brushing my hair out of my eyes and trying to get my bearings. Bernie wandered over, sensing something was going on.
“The agency got a warrant to search The Realm in Windham, and Greer thinks it would be worth our while to be there.”
“Any sign of Alexander Parker or his mother?”
“No, but some of the school’s staff are talking about what’s been going on there. We’ll get all the details when we’re on the plane.”
After packing my bags and heading downstairs with Bernie, I found Otto in the kitchen. He was wearing a bathrobe and sipping coffee, even though it was the middle of the night.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked.
He sat up straighter when he saw me. “Please forgive my appearance, Madam. I was awakened rather abruptly by our house guest and...” He sighed. “...that woman.”
“Nana?”
He nodded, the corners of his mouth pinching together. “They were ra
ther inebriated and got a pick and shovel from the carriage house.”
“Whatever for?”
“They said something about putting their hands and feet in cement at the TCL Chinese Theatre.”
“Oh, dear. I hope they don’t get arrested.”
“All things considered, I don’t believe that would be the worst of all possible outcomes.”
It was the first time I’d seen Otto display any sense of humor. “You do have a point.” I glanced at Bernie, who was wagging his tail, probably hoping he was back on duty. “I’m afraid I have to go out of town on short notice. Could you ask my roommates to take care of Bernie? I’ll call them when I get settled.”
“Of course.” He brushed a hand through Bernie’s coat. “I’d even be happy to walk him, if that’s acceptable.”
Our butler had, in short order, developed a fondness for Bernie. I reached down and stroked Bernie’s fur. “I’m sure he would enjoy that.” I studied Otto for a moment. “Have you given any more thought about trying to get in touch with...? I’m sorry, I forget your friend’s name.”
“Clara. And, yes, as a matter of fact. Perhaps when you return, you could assist me in searching for her, since my technical skills with the Internet are somewhat limited.”
“Consider it done.”
***
The FBI had sent a car for me, and I got to the airport just after three in the morning. I was surprised to see that Olivia and Hayden Kinnear were on the plane, along with John Greer, Joe, Eva, and several other taskforce members.
“We flew most of the night, thinking our investigation had shifted to this area, when we heard about the Windham warrant,” Olivia explained. She yawned. “I’ve heard sleep is overrated, anyway.”
“Tell me about it,” I said, then looked at Kinnear. “I’m surprised you’re here.”
“Technically, I’m still on leave due to the shooting,” he explained, “but, given my expertise on the Angel, I’ve been allowed to use some vacation time and help out.”
“Some vacation,” Joe said, as we all took seats around a table that served as a small conference room.
“Okay, let’s debrief what we have planned,” Greer said, after we all settled in. “We should be landing at the Windham Airport at mid-morning and will be taking cars to the school that’s about ten miles away. It’s in a rural area on several acres bordering the Shetucket River. Our agents made preliminary contact with some of the school’s employees, who confirmed that Anne Parker has been abusing her students. One of the long-time staff said that Anne raised her son at the school and thinks he was also abused.”
“In what way?” Joe asked.
“Not sure about all the details, just that drugs and physical abuse were involved.”
“Extreme childhood trauma might explain Alexander Parker’s behavior,” Kinnear said.
Joe regarded him. “I don’t care what was done to him. It doesn’t account for his killing spree.”
“Speaking of that,” Eva said, “I saw some news reports on his latest victim last night. The girl was an honor student who planned to follow in her father’s footsteps and go into teaching. The press is playing up the emotional impact of her murder, as well as what Parker did to his other victims.”
“All the more reason to find him and his mother,” Greer said. He looked around the table. “I know you’re probably all running on fumes, so try and get some shuteye. I want everyone fresh and ready to go when we land.”
We all wandered off to take seats. I’d just dozed off when we were called back together.
“There’s been a development in Windham,” Greer said. “I just got word there’s been a shooting at the school. We have a mass casualty situation.”
TWENTY-FOUR
After landing in Windham, we made our way along the river toward the school known as The Realm. It was early fall, and the leaves were changing, giving the countryside a beautiful, idyllic feeling, like something off a postcard. It made me realize that we were a long way from Hollywood.
The only information we’d received about the shooting at the school was that several staff members had been shot, the crime reported by a teacher who later succumbed to her injuries. Greer speculated that Anne Parker had ordered the killings, possibly to keep her employees from telling the authorities what they knew about what was going on at the school. Joe had a thought, supporting Eva’s theory that Alexander Parker was acting in concert with his mother.
The only good news was that the Angel had not killed again since the murder of Bailey Sullivan. We were hopeful that his usual pattern of taking another victim shortly after the first two might have been broken. Joe had been more circumspect, telling us that he wouldn’t be surprised if we got a call soon about another murder in a different state.
As Joe drove me, Eva, and Hayden along the river, he also seemed enchanted by the area. “Makes me want to rent a little cabin and throw a line in the water.”
I was sitting next to him and said, “It sounds like you’re pining for retirement.”
He smiled, his wide jaw jutting in my direction. “Maybe one of these days.” Eva and Hayden were chatting in the back seat, not paying attention to us. “Too bad about that dinner on the beach we had planned for tonight.”
I smiled. “We’ll see how things go. Maybe there’s a restaurant nearby, and you can have salmon for dinner.”
“Now you’re talking.”
We found the schoolhouse and surrounding cottages tucked off the highway, down a winding driveway. As we got closer to the buildings, a sense of dread overwhelmed me. The whitewashed steepled structure looked like one of those classic one-room schools you see in old photographs. The only difference being, the schoolhouse and surrounding buildings were in an obvious state of disrepair, with peeling paint, broken shutters, and overgrown shrubbery. A small sign in the front yard announced that we had entered The Realm.
After leaving our cars and meeting up with Greer and the other agents, we got an update on the shootings from one of several agents standing guard at the front of the school.
“Three were down inside the schoolhouse and outbuildings when the local sheriff’s department arrived last night,” an agent named Jerry Hill told us. “It looks like they were execution style killings.”
“What about the staff member who called the police?” Greer asked.
“She tried to get away and was shot in the back. She made the call using her cell phone, but died before the responders got here.”
“And the children?” Joe said. “Where are the kids?”
Hill, an African-American agent in his thirties, cut his eyes to the ground, and answered. “Over a dozen students are registered as attending the school, but we haven’t seen any sign of them. It’s like they disappeared into thin air.”
We all took a moment to survey the area. There were three cottages behind the schoolhouse, and what looked like a small dormitory building. We’d been told the property consisted of a total of forty acres, most of it heavily wooded.
“Let’s take a look through the school and surrounding buildings and make some decisions from there,” Greer announced.
The interior of the schoolhouse was in even worse condition than the exterior. The roof had leaked, giving the place a musty, wet smell. Several desks were set up in rows, with a teacher’s desk in the front. There was a blackboard behind the desk, with a single word written on it: Infusion.
“What the hell do you suppose that means?” Joe asked me.
“I think we’re going to need to find Anne or one of her students to find out.”
There was nothing remarkable about the two small homes Joe and I searched, or the dormitory behind the schoolhouse, other than the blood left behind by those who had been murdered. The dormitory was empty, but looked like it had been recently occupied, with some personal belongings of the children who had occupied the building. Then we got to the third, larger cottage, and everything changed.
“We think this was where Ann
e was staying,” Greer said. “There’s lots of written material about learning to overcome your demons and finding your power.”
There were several photographs of Anne Taylor Parker on the walls, taken with the children at the school. In a couple photographs, she was posed with the children. They were all dressed in elaborate costumes, like something out of the Elizabethan era in England. It gave the impression that she was a queen, surrounded by her loyal subjects.
I pointed out the photographs to Joe. “Do you think these were taken during a school play?”
He shrugged. “You got me. But I got a feeling Anne’s as crazy as her kid.”
I pointed out another photograph, in which Anne was with a young boy. “Do you think he could be Alexander?”
“Maybe. We know he was a student...”
“I’ve found something,” Agent Hill said, interrupting Joe. He called us over to a room that was adjacent to the main living area of the cottage. He pointed out a work area that contained vials of white powder and some drug packaging materials. “Someone has been dispensing dipropyltryptamine, better known as DPT. It’s a powerful hallucinogen.”
“We got reports about Anne Parker possibly giving drugs to her students,” Greer said. “Do you think this is what they were taking?”
“Seems likely,” Hill said. “I know about the drug from some work I did with DEA. It’s a synthetic that creates an intensity of music, color, and even the appearance of apparitions when ingested, along with a loss of ego and freedom from fear. It’s an extremely powerful and dangerous drug.”
“Does it have a street name of Infusion?” I asked, remembering what had been written on the schoolhouse blackboard.
“Not that I’m aware of. It’s sometimes called ‘The Light’, because of the hallucinogenic effects.”
“What kind of a nut job gives this stuff to kids?” Joe asked.
“Someone who wants to control them,” Eva said. She looked at Agent Hill. “I know about the drug, as well. It’s sometimes used in religious sacraments, similar to psilocybin or magic mushrooms. Users believe it produces the physical manifestation of God.”