by Alex Siegel
Detective Haymaker's phone rang.
He put the phone to his ear. "Yes? Oh. I'm on my way. Be there in a half-hour." He hung up.
"What's up?" Virgil said.
"Another murder. Daniel has struck again."
Virgil winced. The slow pace of the investigation was taking a toll in lives lost.
"I'll go with you," Sara said. "I want to look at the body."
"And I'll talk to any witnesses," Alfred said.
Haymaker nodded. "Let's go."
The three of them left. Virgil and Lisa remained in the store with Mei.
Virgil heard Mr. Li coming downstairs. He emerged from the back room and smiled briefly when he saw Virgil and Lisa.
"Mei told us about the gang boss," Virgil said.
Mr. Li shrugged. "He'll be replaced. Chinatown will always have gangs."
Virgil still felt bad. He would definitely be more careful in the future.
"We need your daughter's help for a few minutes."
"OK," Mr. Li said. "I'll watch the shop."
Virgil, Lisa, and Mei went to the secret workshop in the back of the building. Mei sat in front of her computers, and the many screens lit up. The technology still dazzled Virgil.
He thought about the predictions of the future he had heard in his day. The "experts" had talked about total ecological collapse and mass starvation, but in fact, Americans were fatter than ever. Plagues hadn't decimated the population. Humans hadn't become slaves to robot masters. Aliens hadn't invaded.
To be fair, the rosiest predictions hadn't come true either. Despite an abundance of food, the world still had plenty of starving people. Police techniques had improved, but crime and corruption were still rampant. War still raged in the Middle East. The human animal still had the same frailties as before with perhaps only slight improvements at the margin.
As far as Virgil could tell, nobody had predicted the actual changes that had occurred during the last thirty years. A technological revolution had transformed the way people communicated and accessed information. A supercomputer in his pocket was a gateway to all human knowledge. He was still dipping his toes into those waters, but he was already embracing the astonishing possibilities.
Mei's fingers flew across her keyboard as she swam in the new ocean of technology. Virgil watched as she accomplished in seconds what would've taken weeks back in his day. Names and addresses popped up with miraculous swiftness. He couldn't tell how much was her and how much was the computer.
"I really appreciate all the help you're giving us," Virgil said.
Mei glanced at him. "We're trying to stop a terrorist from blowing up Chicago in the future, right?"
Alfred had told Mr. Li that ridiculous story about time travelers and an atomic bomb. Apparently, Mr. Li had relayed the tale to his daughter.
"Right," Virgil said. "Future generations of humanity will thank you."
Lisa rolled her eyes.
He ignored her silent criticism and continued, "When I come back tonight, maybe you and I could walk around Chinatown. You can tell me all the dirty secrets tourists never hear." He winked.
"Just the two of us?" Mei glanced at him with an uncertain expression.
"That's the idea."
"If it's not too late... and my dad approves."
"You need his permission to take a walk?" Virgil said. "You're a grown woman, a blossom in full flower."
Mei blushed but didn't respond. Lisa made a gagging motion with her finger. Virgil decided to keep his mouth shut and let Mei work.
Eventually, she produced a printout showing a long list of suppliers in the Chicago area. They had names like "Occult and Wiccan Shoppe" and "Moonlight Magic Supplies." Checking every address was going to take at least a full day.
"Good thing we have a navigation system in the car," Virgil said.
"I can give you the optimal route," Mei said.
"Oh?"
"It's just a simple application of the Travelling Salesman Problem."
She typed some more. The printer hummed and spat out more sheets of paper. Virgil grabbed them and saw they were turn-by-turn driving instructions.
"Nice," he said. "This will save us a lot of time."
He smiled at her pretty face, and he resisted an urge to kiss her. He settled for giving her an awkward pat of congratulations on her shoulder. Then he took the scrapbook back.
"Let's go," Lisa said impatiently.
She and Virgil left the phone store. The first destination on the list was near Chinatown, and they could walk to it. They moved at a quick pace, dodging clumps of tourists on the crowded sidewalk. Everybody was sweating, and for once, Virgil was glad he wasn't sensitive to the heat.
"You and that girl," Lisa said in a tone of exasperation.
"What about us?" Virgil said. "She's very attractive."
"It's just weird." She lowered her voice. "You realize your penis is made of mud, right?"
"Mammon told me it works well enough for me to perform."
"You asked him?"
"When I saw the hardware," Virgil said, "it was my first question."
Lisa shook her head. "Men never change, not even dead men."
After fifteen minutes of vigorous walking, they came to a store named, "The Lotus Throne." It had a green exterior with arcane symbols painted on it. They went inside.
Crystals and colorful stones filled the shelves. The merchandise was neatly arranged in separate bowls with handwritten labels. Some of the crystals were submerged in bottles of liquid like tea leaves soaking in hot water. The shop also sold a great variety of candles.
Virgil walked up to a woman by the cash register. She had wavy black hair with strands of gray. A necklace made of many types of crystal hung across her breasts. More crystals were woven into the hem of her purple dress.
"Can I help you?" she said in a pleasant tone.
"Yes. Can you take a look at this?" Virgil showed her the ritual in Mackey's scrapbook.
Her gaze went down the page. "Looks like a purification ceremony, but it has an odd mix of pagan and Christian elements."
"That's right. We're with the state police. We're looking for a criminal who recently purchased the materials needed for this ceremony. It's possible he came here." Virgil showed his badge.
"A bad man?"
"The worst."
The shopkeeper furrowed her brow. "Let me check."
She went to the door of the store. Brown stones were glued to the inside of the frame, and she ran her fingers across the polished surfaces.
"What are you doing?" Virgil said.
"Checking to see if evil has passed through this doorway."
Lisa snorted. Virgil gave her a sharp look.
"What's the verdict?" he said politely.
"The stones have not absorbed any evil recently," the shopkeeper said. "Your criminal never came here."
"I see. I was hoping you would compare your sales records against the list of materials needed for the ceremony. You might find a match."
"The stones never lie."
Lisa put her hands on her hips. "Hey, we don't care about your stones! Just check your records."
The shopkeeper straightened and raised her chin. "You doubt my magic?"
"Do I think you're full of crap? Yes."
"I'm a level 3 sensitive! They call me the Amethyst Witch."
"Who does?" Lisa said.
"My acolytes."
"What do they know?"
"More than you!" the shopkeeper yelled.
"Do they have degrees in crap-ology?"
"Get out." The shopkeeper pointed to the door. "Your negative energy is contaminating my crystals."
Lisa didn't budge. "Can you prove you have real powers?"
"Can you prove I don't?"
"Just do a spell."
"I did! I read the stones." The shopkeeper pointed to the brown stones on the door.
"I need more than that."
"Magic requires belief, and obviously, you don't beli
eve. It is impossible to cast spells in the presence of such corrosive cynicism. My aura is completely out of balance now."
"How convenient," Lisa said. "It only works if the audience is already on your side."
"Ladies!" Virgil said. "Enough. Amethyst, if I may call you that, this is a serious police matter. I must insist you check your records."
The shopkeeper begrudgingly took another look at the scrapbook. Then she reached under her counter and pulled out a big cardboard box of sales slips.
"That's your accounting system?" Lisa said in an incredulous tone.
"Electronics are evil."
The shopkeeper began to look through the slips. Virgil came over to help, and he quickly realized the cause was hopeless. Most purchases had been vaguely identified if at all. The shop apparently sold lots of "large crystals," "small crystals," and "mixed crystals."
Lisa looked around. "Do you have a surveillance camera?"
"No," the shopkeeper said. "Electronics are..."
"Evil. I heard."
"And cameras steal the soul."
Lisa clenched her fists.
"Thank you for your time anyway," Virgil said. "We'll just go."
He and Lisa left the shop.
"What a total flake!" Lisa muttered.
"Calm down. I bet we're going to meet a lot of flakes on this trip. Deal with it."
She snarled and then nodded. "OK. I hope this doesn't turn into a gigantic waste of time."
"So do I."
Chapter Nine
Sara examined the crime scene with an expert eye. She had seen more murder victims than she cared to think about. Heaven had picked her for this job because she could've taught a master's class in the art of killing.
In this case, the victim had died on a street corner next to a high school. There was no blood trail, so the body hadn't been moved. It was an exposed location, and the murder had occurred during the day. Daniel is bold, Sara thought.
Detective Haymaker found the police officer who was managing the crime scene. Haymaker, Sara, and Alfred listened to the report.
"His name was Richard Conley," the cop said. "Age 15. Great kid by all accounts. Stabbed in the throat."
"What was he doing out here?" Haymaker said.
"Waiting for his mom. He had just come out of lacrosse practice. When she showed up, the body was still bleeding. She had to be taken home."
Sara narrowed her eyes. Her mind was already racing to disturbing conclusions.
"Let me see the body," she said.
The group made its way through the police line. A sheet covered the corpse, and Sara pulled it back.
The victim was a handsome young man in great physical condition. A single stab wound in the neck was Daniel's calling card. The slaying could not have been more surgical. Smears of crusted blood on the sidewalk suggested the mother had disturbed the body after death.
"The murder weapon was a small, thin knife," she murmured. "A pocket knife or maybe a scalpel."
Sara didn't see any bruising or evidence of a struggle. The victim certainly had the physical capacity to defend himself, but he had not. The attack had been surprising and quick.
She looked around and was struck again by the openness of the location. "I'm surprised there were no witnesses," she said. "Weren't other kids around?"
"The attack occurred an hour after school ended," the police officer said. "The kids had gone home."
"But the victim was still here."
"For after-school lacrosse practice."
"And he came out alone," Sara said. "He was vulnerable for just a few minutes until his mother showed up."
The officer nodded. "That seems to be the case."
"Can we please have a few minutes alone?"
The officer reluctantly left.
"This is incredible," Sara said in a low voice to Alfred and Haymaker.
"What is?" Haymaker said.
"The precision of the attack. Daniel knew exactly where and when to strike down to the minute. Every detail was planned."
"We already knew the guy does his homework."
Sara shook her head. "He hasn't had time. He murdered another kid yesterday, and that one was just as slick. Have all the murders been this perfect?"
"Yes."
"Daniel is getting help, and they're doing more than just protecting him. I've studied serial killers. I know what's involved, and he couldn't do all this alone."
Nobody spoke for a moment.
Eventually, Haymaker said, "This case is too big for me."
"Heaven and Hell agree," Sara said. "That's why they sent us."
"The FBI called. They also offered their services."
Alfred gave Haymaker a serious look. "No. We've been given specific instructions from both sides to make as few waves as possible. Don't bring in the FBI."
"Are the angels embarrassed?" Haymaker said. "Scared?"
"Maybe." Alfred shrugged. "It doesn't matter. We have to keep going the way we are."
Haymaker nodded slowly.
"I want to talk to the grieving mother next," Alfred added. "She might know more than she thinks."
* * *
Virgil and Lisa walked into Magicke Emporium, an occult shop at the southern end of Chicago. The variety of the merchandise impressed Virgil even though he considered most of the stuff to be useless junk. One section held incense sticks, cones, and candles. Little statues portraying gods and mythological creatures filled another set of shelves. There were books with titles like The Comprehensive Guide to Faery Folk, Sustainable Witchcraft, and Solomon's Grimoire. A corner of the store was dedicated to tarot cards, and Virgil couldn't believe how many styles they came in.
Silver chalices in a glass case caught his eye. Daniel's purification ceremony had included a specific type of chalice.
Virgil walked over to the cashier. He was a tall man with a bald scalp and a triangular black goatee. He was wearing red velvet robes which struck Virgil as a bit ridiculous. A necklace with a demon pendant hung from the cashier's neck. The demon had grossly exaggerated horns and teeth compared to the real thing.
"I like your chalices," Virgil said.
The cashier smiled slightly. "The metals come from sacred Syrian ore."
"Really?" Lisa said. "You refine the metal here?"
"Well, no. We buy the chalices from a supplier."
"And they refine the metal?"
"I don't know," the cashier said.
"I thought most silver came from South America."
Virgil raised his eyebrows. He was surprised Lisa knew this odd fact.
"The most sacred silver comes from Syria," the cashier said.
"According to who?"
"Enough about silver," Virgil said. "We should introduce ourselves. We're detectives with the state police." He showed his badge.
The cashier glanced nervously to the sides.
"We're looking for a dangerous criminal who might've purchased one of your chalices recently. The merchandise had to be made of absolutely pure silver with a fish scale pattern engraved on the surface."
The cashier shook his head. "We don't sell pure silver. It's too soft. They usually mix in some copper."
"Oh," Virgil said. "Too bad."
"But maybe a tarot reading will help."
"How?"
The cashier brightened. "It could provide guidance in your noble quest."
He reached under the counter and pulled out a giant pack of tarot cards. Each card was eight inches long and as thick as a piece of cardboard.
"Uh," Virgil said, "I don't think we really have time."
"It will just take a minute," the cashier said, "and as a favor to the police, I won't charge you."
They started by mixing the cards. Both Virgil and the cashier participated in the process which involved several specific steps.
Finally, the cashier laid five cards face-down in a cross pattern. A sixth card was placed sideways across the middle of the figure.
"You're lucky you
caught me in the shop," he said.
"Oh?" Virgil said.
"I'm one of the best tarot readers around."
With great ceremony, the cashier turned over the cards one at a time. The pictures were beautiful, but they meant nothing to Virgil. The numbers and symbols appeared random. The cashier waved his right hand across the cards like a psychic metal detector.
"How does this work?" Virgil said.
"The tarot is trying to send me a message. I have to be sensitive enough to receive it. It takes profound faith and belief."
Virgil crossed his arms impatiently. Lisa was smirking.
"I see clashing energies," the cashier said. "Your dreams will guide you through the turbulent waters of your future. Luck will be your companion if you don't depend on it. This is not a day to micromanage. Don't demand too many facts."
Lisa laughed out loud. "That could mean anything. Are we done here?"
"Yes," Virgil said. "Thank you for your time."
* * *
Sara didn't need to be told in which house Richard Conley had lived. The cars packing the driveway and lining the street were a sure sign. Friends and extended family had come to show their support.
The house was painted an interesting green. Rounded corners and a curving roof made it look like a giant weathered stone covered with moss. The front door was propped open. Haymaker led Sara and Alfred inside.
Sara heard a woman sobbing, and she braced herself. She had dealt with grieving parents many times during her long career as a medical examiner, but it had never become easy. It was impossible to have a calm, rational conversation with a mother who was blubbering like a baby. The fathers often became stony and unresponsive. Sara always kept her emotions to herself. Whenever she talked to anybody, she was all business all the time.
Alfred automatically took the lead. Extreme emotion was his bailiwick. He found the sobbing woman in the kitchen surrounded by other women. Haymaker and Sara stood back to watch the master work.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," Alfred murmured. "I'm with the police. Is there anything I can do for you?"
He was using his special voice. It didn't work on Sara, but she could tell the difference. Angels had the same musical resonance in their voices.
The woman turned to him. She was wearing a black shirt and skirt suitable for office work. Wet mascara had run down her reddened face.