by Jenna Coburn
“So, Dan…this cat has been running around the circus grounds, looking kind of homeless, and when I gave him some food it seemed he was starving.” Maybe she was being unfair, but she watched Dan with the eyes of an investigator. Her instincts told her there was something foul about it all.
“He’s been running away, you know. I don’t know why. I’m always taking such good care of him.” Almost demonstratively, he gently scratched the cat behind its ears. “And I owe you my thanks for finding him and taking him in like this. It’s great that there are good people out there, but now I really should get going with him.”
That wasn’t going to happen. “Wait a second,” Alethea said. “How did you just find him after he was already inside the trailer?” Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned forward in her seat. Dan suddenly looked a bit uncomfortable.
“I was just…I just was outside and happened to spot the two of you at the last second before you went in, so then I came over here. That’s it.” That smile. She didn’t trust his smile.
It was time to just go straight ahead, even at the cost of being stupid and sounding insane. “I think this isn’t your cat. This cat belonged to Lionel Horne, who was killed just two days ago, and I don’t know why you’d try to get his cat or how this cat knows you, but I know that it isn’t your cat.” She needed to bring the point home. “Is his name even really Leo? That’s such a generic name, like you just thought of it.”
He suddenly looked angry, as if he were personally hurt by her suggestion. “That’s bullshit! Of course his name is Leo! I named him so myself, and I don’t care what you think about the name, alright?! Just…I found my cat. I haven’t seen him for some time, so get off my back!” He hugged the cat closely to himself, and whispered, “Leo, my lambkin, we’re going to go home together now, away from the evil lady, and all will be as it used to be.”
Evil lady? Alethea coughed. “I’m not an evil lady! And you can’t just take this cat, at least…give me some proof it’s yours, alright? Because otherwise I have to assume you’re taking the cat of a murder victim, and that you know something!” The conversation grew heated, but Dan had no interest in conversation. Alethea wasn’t sure how a man his age could act this much like a teenager, anyway.
“I don’t care what you’re asking me! Isn’t it proof enough that he knows me and likes me? Of course he’s my cat. And I’m going to go now. Good-bye!” He stood up and wanted to leave the trailer, but just then, the door opened. It was Holden Westley, with a plastic bag in his hand, supposedly full of cat products. He blocked the door and looked at Dan and the cat with a polite smile.
“Hello, I’m Special Agent Holden Westley of the FBI.” He held out his hand. “What’s your name, mister?” Dan retreated a bit, and held out his left arm—the right one was needed to hold the cat—and they awkwardly shook hands. “I’m Dan,” he said. “This is Leo, my cat, and we’re leaving.” He glared in Alethea’s direction.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dan. Excuse me, do you have a surname?” Holden pointed at the cat. “This cat is relevant to an ongoing murder investigation, and we can’t let you take it without physical proof that it is your cat. Additionally, if it is your cat, we would like to ask you about these items and your personal relationship with one Lionel Horne, recently deceased.” Walking up the stairs, Westley came inside and closed the door behind him.
Dan didn’t seem to like this situation at all, and he looked around, apparently trying to think of a way to get out. He let Leo go, who jumped to the ground with a meow and then chose to explore the trailer. It was all new and interesting, after all. Dan then broke out in sudden tears.
“It was me, alright! It was me! I did it!” He held out his hands towards Holden, who was quite surprised. “I didn’t want it to happen, but I just…I get so angry!” The FBI agent put down his bag, and patted Dan on the shoulder. “That’s okay, Mr. Dan,” he said. He slowly took out handcuffs and gently put them on the man’s wrists. When Holden’s and Alethea’s eyes met, she glanced towards the handcuffs, then back to him. Holden just shrugged, with a “let’s see where this goes” expression in his eyes.
Dan sat down and began to tell his story. “Leo really is my cat. I gave it to Lionel to take care of it. Only he,” the man sobbed loudly, “didn’t take good care of my Leo and then Leo ran away and he was gone for so long. I thought he was de-he-head!” Wistfully, with tears in his eyes but a smile on his face, Dan looked to Leo. “I’m just so happy he’s okay.”
“So if we understand you correctly,” Alethea began, “you killed Lionel Horne because he lost your cat and you thought the cat had died as a result of that?” She knew that people loved their pets, but she didn’t think anyone loved their pet that much.
“I didn’t want to do that. I just get so emotional when Leo’s involved.” He snuffled, and Westley handed him a tissue. “Thanks. I confronted him that evening, and he was so cruel and dismissive and such a goddamn dick that I don’t even know why I gave him my cat in the first place. I just don’t know that many people in town.” Dan sighed. “Can I see that bag?”
Westley handed him the bag of cat supplies, and Dan took out the collar. He called out to Leo and awkwardly put the collar around the cat’s neck while his hands were cuffed. There was actually a small heart on the collar, and the name Leo was engraved on it. If only she’d seen that before, Alethea thought to herself. “These are all his things,” Dan said in a small voice.
“Why don’t we go to the precinct, Mr. Dan, and there you can give me your full name and everything will be sorted out.” Dan nodded, and they stood up. Alethea wasn’t sure what to think of it all, or why people liked to tearfully confess their murders to her so much, but all she could do was try to smile and accept it.
“Do you think we could bring Leo?” Dan asked hopefully.
“I suppose we can,” Holden Westley granted his wish and looked to Alethea, who sighed.
Chapter X
“So that’s how I fell down and lost at least five points off my IQ score,” Abel said. “My sister cried as if I were dead, and I think everyone thought I was, but all that really happened was that for a week after, I felt like I had drunk a case of wine on my own. I threw up at the slightest provocation.”
“I know that feeling,” Tony dryly commented. Everyone laughed.
They were outside again, under the pale sky of late autumn, a huge fire lighting up the night. For some reason, Virgil had insisted that they would have a huge grill party after everything had concluded. There was some fear that he’d wreak terrible vengeance for the temporary loss of his precious jade tiger, but he seemed remarkably understanding.
He was probably just happy that he had actually gotten it back safely.
Alethea felt confused. What she had thought was one big case including violence, murder and the stealing of precious artifacts had revealed itself to only be a strange arrangement of circumstances full of cats and valerian and little substance. In a way, it was a good thing, because that meant the world was actually not quite as terrible as she had previously thought.
As she sat on a log, just close enough to the fire to not be cold, sipping a beer and letting it all pass through her forehead again, she wasn’t sure what the lesson here was. She certainly didn’t feel like an accomplished private investigator.
America sat down next to her, and Alethea almost instinctively rolled her eyes. “Are you going to tell me some cryptic truths now, America?” Her smile looked tired; the old woman answered it warmly.
“I think you are realizing something profound, Letha.”
“And what might that be?”
“That you’re more into a world where magic is real than one where coincidence is real,” Madame Lécuyer whispered. Her eyes had a vivid gleam, and then she stood up again, going back to playing Yoda for someone else. Alethea sighed.
“I would not have considered that I would ever be at another of your grill parties,” Holden confessed. It was his turn to sit down next to h
er, having just come from the opposite direction. In one hand, he held a plate laden with some variety of beef storm. “And so, I count myself very lucky to be present now, Miss Thwaite.”
She couldn’t help but smile back at him. Any conversation with him was welcome after contemplating the mind-breaking concepts of magic and coincidence. She could talk to him easily. “Agent Westley, we’re all very happy that you’re with us again, I think. We’ve even got another weird case under our belt, isn’t that something?” She looked forward, straight into the crackling flames licking into the sky. “I really didn’t think it would turn out that way.”
“Well, that’s how it is. Even after all these years in the field, I can tell you that any case can and will surprise you. The way that the world twists and turns, one might think it would make more sense, but sometimes it just doesn’t.” He happily bit off a piece of sausage. “What did you do with the bag of herbs we found under Mr. Ardelean’s trailer, if I may ask?”
She looked at him with some surprise, but then chuckled. “I guess I can tell you now.” She took a preparatory gulp of beer. “That was related to a different case. Virgil thought someone had stolen his precious jade tiger and caused the incident with Abel as a diversion. The secret compartment the figurine had been in smelled like valerian, too. Actually, it was the first place I smelled it.”
She slowly shook her head, still smiling. “And then it turned out that two of our clowns somehow managed to damage the trailer, and they found the jade tiger and a dead rat or something. They took the statue, and that was the case.” Westley had listened with his eyebrows raised.
“Why wasn’t the missing figurine reported to the police?”
Alethea shrugged. “I really don’t know. Virgil was acting coyly for some reason. He’s a strange old man, but you can’t hold someone’s idiosyncrasies against them if they are that old. It’s not like he’ll change anymore.”
They seemed to agree on that, and Holden Westley seemed to have no interest in pursuing the jade tiger case any further.
“Back when we were in Spoony’s Bar, why did you ask me if I believed in magic?”
The question hit Alethea completely unprepared, and she looked at Holden with big eyes. She bit her lip, emptied her beer, and put it away. It was all to buy herself some time. “You know, it was just…sometimes the things that happen are so odd that it feels like you can’t explain them with common sense anymore. And someone told me that I should just believe in magic, instead…so that’s why I asked you.”
She wasn’t even sure how he had remembered such a small, seemingly unimportant moment.
“I understand, and it’s a difficult question. Many investigators are actually superstitious in some way and believe in lucky items or behavior, and in things that bring them bad luck. Maybe it comes with the territory. Often it feels like the slightest change in chance can determine the outcome of a whole life, whether it is a long investigation or a dangerous shootout.” Already having emptied his plate somehow, he put it away and leaned on his arms.
“It’s a different thing, Agent Westley,” Alethea said thoughtfully. “It’s like…what if someone told you directly their theory about how magic actually worked? I feel like I am under a spell, because my thoughts keep circling. What if this case had come out differently? Why did I believe so firmly that the stray cat at the circus was actually Horne’s cat?” She chewed on her lip. “In the beginning, I thought that everything was connected, you know? The cats, the smell, the circus…the jade tiger, Lionel, the stray cat…where is he right now, anyway?” she asked absentmindedly and looked around until she spotted Rob playing with him. Alethea nodded with approval and turned her eyes back to Holden. “And when I found out that it wasn’t all connected, it was disappointing. It’s like I wanted the coincidences to be more than just coincidences. Is that just human? To want things to mean something?”
“I think you are a very intelligent woman, Miss Thwaite. You simply are a more self-reflective person than a lot of us. Investigators are always in danger of getting stuck on one theory, one explanation. They become obsessed and start dismissing evidence that points to another solution. I believe that as long as this does not happen to you, things are fine.”
He smiled and patted her shoulder. “Your questions go way beyond the investigation of a crime itself. It’s all philosophical. What is the world really like? I don’t know. Ask a priest.”
Alethea nodded slowly, looking into his eyes. His words made sense, but they didn’t really deliver what she was looking for. “Thanks, Agent Westley. I’ll try to keep a pragmatic mindset.” There was a short pause, the switching of gears to another topic. “We’re going to leave tomorrow, so it’s good-bye again soon.”
Westley nodded. “Indeed, it is. But I have the feeling that we may actually meet again this time. What happens twice might happen three times.” He stood up. “Just like me getting more food.”
She laughed warmly, and looking up to the sky, she slowly let herself slip backwards, off the log and into the grass. Her back might have gotten wet, but that was of no concern to Alethea. If she looked at the sky in a certain way, they made all kinds of signs; they transported so much meaning. They ruled over someone’s birth, they steered lives, and they predicted the future.
She thought that astrology was nonsense, but she also understood that in a way, it was the exact same thing that she was looking for. Some strange outside force that brought sense into the chaos of existence, just as it brought sense into the countless disordered dots of the stars in the night sky.
“I’ll know the truth,” Alethea promised herself. “The real truth. One day.”
~~~