by C Farren
She started searching the place, finding nothing out of the ordinary. The cupboards in the kitchen were empty apart from a few small boxes of Saltines and dry packets of pasta. The refrigerator had an array of posh food inside, including small tins of caviar. Curious, she opened one and had a taste. It wasn’t very pleasant. It reminded her of sweaty feet.
“How does she afford all this?” Wren wondered.
One of the walls was covered in gold framed photographs. They all depicted a beautiful, thin, dark haired teenage girl in a ballerina’s dress. She was receiving awards or smiling on stage or shaking hands with old people Wren presumed must be famous dancers. Rosa didn’t exactly look happy in the photos either, but she must be proud of them, otherwise why feature them so prominently in her apartment?
Maybe Rosa is famous in the world of dance. What do I know?
She quickly took out her cellphone and did a Google search. Rosa di Marco was an internationally renowned ballet dancer from the age of ten. She’d played in front of Kings and Queens, presidents and prime ministers, and even starred in a movie with Nicole Kidman. Then when she was fourteen an accident, which was reported as unexplained, had severed several nerves in her right leg and she was forced to give up her career. She disappeared from the limelight after that.
What is a rich, former celebrity doing have an affair with someone so ordinary like Mr. Barr? Was she that desperate for attention? And why did she go to the unemployment office, looking for money? She obviously had enough.
Wren found a more recent photograph of Rosa. She’d curved out a little bit since her dancing days but she was still breathtakingly beautiful. In the photo she appeared to be with one of the Kardashians. Wren didn’t know which one.
“You find anything?” Lenny asked. He stared at the photos with her. He grinned when his eyes alighted on one of Rosa with Bette Midler. “She met the divine Miss M! So lucky.” He sighed and looked at Wren. “Any sign that Keegan might have been here?”
Wren shook her head. “There’s no signs of a struggle or a dead body, no blood splatter, nothing. The place is clean and tidy and pretty much perfect and I’d be envious if such organization didn’t make me suspicious.”
“She has a bathtub the size of my bedroom,” said Lenny. “Oh, and some of her clothes are missing. It looks like she made a hasty exit.”
Wren seethed. “Barr warned her. He must be involved.”
“Or in love.”
Brock shouted for them. Lenny ran, obviously thinking they’d found a clue about Keegan. Wren was less excited. She somehow knew they wouldn’t find anything about her friend. Rosa was the type of person to not leave anything behind.
Never mind that. I was wrong.
The spare bedroom contained a shrine of sorts to Maureen. One whole wall was plastered with photographs of her. Most of them were shots of Maureen going about her business, walking to work or sitting in her apartment building’s garden or going to the store. They had been taken by some sort of long lens camera, as if someone were following her.
“She hired someone to follow her,” said Wren, a little disgusted. She pointed to the left side of the wall. “Look at these photos and compare them to the ones on the right. Maureen looks younger. They must be at least five years old.”
“She’s been stalking her for years,” said Brock. “There’s even a photo of Maureen sitting on a beach somewhere. It looks like Mexico.”
Wren kneeled down to look at the photos on the bottom right side of the wall. Maureen was in a wheelchair, coming out of the hospital.
“I’m in this photo!” Wren exclaimed. She felt a little violated. “It was just after Everett’s car plunged into the harbor and I was at the hospital with Chelsea. I saw Maureen in the waiting room and we took a taxi home together.”
There was another photo next to that one of Maureen meeting Wren outside her apartment building, and another of Maureen talking to Keegan near the gates of his house. The very last one was of Maureen by the back of the Metropolitan. It was taken yesterday morning.
“I can’t believe this,” said Wren. “Rosa has money and looks and a fabulous apartment. Why is this woman stalking Maureen? It makes no sense.”
“Maybe she’s done something to Keegan,” said Lenny. “She has to be the one who’s been trying to kill Maureen.”
“But why?” Brock asked. “It can’t be envy. Who’d be jealous of Maureen? She’s the most ordinary person I’ve ever known.”
There was maybe one reason. Maureen was a millionaire. Maybe Rosa had found out and resented her for it for some reason.
“No,” said Wren. “It can’t be that.”
Brock and Lenny looked at her strangely.
“Sorry,” said Wren. “I forgot you can’t hear my internal thoughts.”
Should she tell them about Maureen’s millionaire secret? She wouldn’t reveal it, not unless it was vitally important. It was vitally important, wasn’t it?
“Maureen is a millionaire,” Wren blurted out.
“You think she was stalking Maureen so she could somehow get her hands on her money?” Lenny asked. “How would that work? Why would killing Maureen help her get hold of the money?”
Wren didn’t know. None of it made any sense. She needed to find Rosa and demand answers.
What’s that...
There was a small plastic bin near the wall. It looked like someone had burned something in it because it was full of ashes. The smell was horrible as well, not like burned paper at all. It was more like burned plastic.
“Burning evidence,” Brock suggested. “But what evidence?”
“I really have no clue,” Wren admitted. “This is really puzzling me.”
Brock leaned over and started rummaging through the ashes. He pulled out something, some sort of laminated card. It was singed but still intact.
“This is Keegan’s card,” said Wren. “I helped him pick out the font.”
His card even has his middle name on it – Keegan Ekon Fisher.
It felt like forever since she’d last spoken to Keegan. She missed him so much. They’d have to throw him the biggest party Snowflake Bay had ever had when they found him.
“Why does Keegan need a card?” Lenny asked.
Wren shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he wanted one.”
She knew she ought to get a card for the coffee shop, maybe hire one of the local kids to deliver them to people’s houses. She’d get Aarna on that later.
“Any clues as to where she could be keeping Keegan?” Lenny asked. He had picked up a photo album that was on a table and flicking through it. “Maybe she has a lock-up or a cabin in the countryside or something.”
Wren continued to study the photos, looking for some sort of motivation behind this level of stalking. Rosa wouldn’t hate Maureen for no reason.
“Wait a minute.”
She caught something in one of the photos. Maureen had a different haircut. It must have been from a few years ago. She was sitting in a car, eating from a carton of Chinese food. There was a reflection in the car window. It was Rosa, carrying a camera.
“She took the photos herself,” said Wren. “She didn’t hire anybody.”
“That means she’s crazier than we thought,” said Brock.
“You have to look at this,” called Lenny. He came over to them with the photo album and showed them a picture. “Look at this.”
The picture showed a fourteen-year-old Rosa standing with her arms around another girl outside of what appeared to be a concert hall. Wren recognized it as the Royal Opera House in London. She’d been there during her travels. It was a beautiful building, though the Italian opera she’d watched inside had been a bit boring. She had no idea what they were saying.
“Who is that girl?” said Wren, wracking her brain. “I know her from somewhere.”
It was Maureen. Young Rosa and young Maureen had been friends.
“Maureen was a ballet dancer,” said Wren, thinking that nothing had amazed her as mu
ch as this revelation in her entire life. “She never mentioned it.”
Wren was now even more convinced than ever that Rosa was behind all the attempted murders. It had to be her. It made her angry that one woman had caused so much misery. But what could Maureen have done that created such an enemy? Maureen didn’t have a bad bone in her body. If she found a spider in her apartment she’d pick it up and gently put it outside. The woman was wonderful and strange and pure to the core.
“We need to see that lying wretch Sebastian Barr again,” said Wren, turning away from the wall of photos. “He might know where Rosa has fled to.”
“Let me teach him a thing or two about lying,” said Brock, smacking his fist into the palm of his hand. “He’ll tell the truth then.”
“If you touch him I’ll kick you in the wings,” Wren warned him.
She headed back. Something clicked on the floor beneath her. The sliding door to the room slammed shut of its own accord. Wren grabbed the door handle and tried to slide it to the side to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. It was locked.
Chapter 13
Fiona switched her TV off. She was bored. Heaven may have every single Earth television channel and streaming service but nothing interested her. She couldn’t get Dan off her mind, and she was missing Wren and Keegan so much. It was so lonely in her apartment. She knew it was necessary to be here, to purge her of the demon energies, but she wished she had company.
There was a knock at the door. Fiona grinned and almost skipped to answer it. She was so bored she’d talk to anybody.
It was Finn Smithson, her neighbor. He was a young man in his early twenties who had died from the plague in the Middle Ages and never shut up about it. He was a good person, but a thorough bore.
“What can I do for you?” Fiona asked.
Finn smiled. “Word is you’re really lonely in here all on your own.”
“Have the gossips in this building nothing better to do?” said Fiona crossly.
“I brought you a gift. I hope you’ll like it.”
There was a large bird cage on the floor next to him. Inside it was a weird looking thing with a big beak and white feathers. It looked like a chubby parrot. It stared at her balefully, like it was wondering what she tasted like.
“It’s a dodo,” said Finn. “It’s only a chick now, so you’ll have to let it out of the cage, but it’ll make a great pet.”
Fiona forced a smile on her face. The last thing she needed was a dodo. They were supposed to be a real handful. She couldn’t be putting up with their antics while trying to recuperate. The thing would drive her mad.
“It’s so wonderful,” said Fiona. “I love it.”
Finn grinned. “I knew you would. What are you going to call him?”
“I’m not sure if I’ll have the time to take care of him.”
“Oh. Right.”
“But I’ll...”
He picked up the cage. The dodo squawked a few times before he carried the cage away.
“I’m so sorry!” she called after him.
She closed the door, feeling like such a terrible person. Before the end of the day the entire building would know what an ungrateful angel she was. This was hardly going to help her with her recuperation.
She opened the door again and ran down the corridor, catching up to Finn.
“Finn!” she shouted. “I’ve changed my mind! I’d love to take him.”
He turned to her and smiled. “Really?”
“It was such a thoughtful gift.”
An hour later the dodo had eaten her couch and defecated all over the carpet. She wished she’d never let it out of her cage, but she felt sorry for it.
“Come down from there!” Fiona called.
The dodo, which she’d called Davey, was now on top of her bookcase. It kept pecking at the wall and refused to come down, no matter what she said. She’d even tried bribing it with some salmon fillets but he just turned his nose up at the offering.
“Do you want something to drink?” Fiona asked sweetly.
The dodo squawked and turned his bottom towards her.
Fiona stamped her foot angrily. “You are so annoying! You’re making me want to...”
She wanted to fly up there, grab the dodo, and strangle it. Perhaps it would taste nice in a pie. Dodo pot pie.
No. I have to have patience. This is just an animal.
She calmed herself down. “Just stay up there for a while then. I’m going to make something for dinner. Come down when you’re hungry.”
Fiona smiled and headed for the kitchen. She got out some fresh diced chicken and put it in a pan on the hob. She added some condensed chicken soup, baby mushrooms, and some diced sweet potatoes. She loved this recipe. Her mother had made it often. The aroma reminded her of home.
The dodo suddenly landed on the kitchen counter and looked at her. Fiona smiled and held out a piece of chicken. Davey gently took the meat from her hand and gulped it down in one go. Fiona laughed.
“Looks like we’re going to get along after all,” said Fiona.
When dinner was over and Davey was settled in a chair, fast asleep, Fiona started her exercises. They were a way to access the part of her that was an angel and purify her of any lingering demonic energies. They were easy to do and made her calm. Besides, it was only yoga. She’d done an online class with Fiona once back on Earth. Yoga was easy.
After an hour of yoga Fiona felt clean. She could literally feel it, feel the angel in her. It was a great sensation.
There was a knock at the door. Fiona prepared herself for tonight’s giving. A giving was where a person came to her house and she’d have to do something kind for them. It was another way of purifying her. Cynthia had tasked her with a giving each day, later in the evening. Last night an angel called Biyu had turned up, who needed Fiona’s help to locate her brother, who had just died and gone missing in Golden. It didn’t take them long to find him, despite his best efforts to try and escape back to Earth.
The man at the door was Harold. She’d recognize her son anywhere.
“Hello, Mom,” said Harold.
Chapter 14
Wren banged her fist against the door but it didn’t move. It was made from thick, solid metal. Only a bomb blast could get through it.
“What kind of door is this?” Wren screamed, frustrated.
She looked around the small room, noting the lack of a window. There was a small keypad next to the door, and a small vent in the ceiling, piping in cool air. This wasn’t a normal bedroom. It was some sort of panic room. They could be stuck in here forever.
“This is a panic room,” said Lenny. “Look at this.”
He pushed a panel on the wall and it opened, revealing a small closed-circuit television. They could see the living area of the apartment in glorious high definition. Lenny pressed a button and the view changed to the bathroom, and then a walk-in closet, and then a view of the front door.
“It’s not a very good panic room,” said Lenny. “There’s no stockpile of food or guns or anything.”
“Perhaps she wasn’t intending to use it,” Brock suggested. “At least not yet.”
“The burglar trap is a good addition,” said Lenny.
Wren sighed. “Not for us.”
She pulled out her cellphone but there was no signal. It was the same for Lenny.
“What about you?” Lenny asked.
“I don’t have a phone,” said Brock. “Who would I call?”
There had to be a landline phone in here for use in an emergency. They were an essential part of any panic room. But where was it?
“Look for a phone,” she ordered.
They searched around the bare walls. They found more hidden panels, some of them containing bottles of water, some of them empty. They eventually found an alcove with a sophisticated looking red satellite phone inside.
Wren picked up the receiver. “Damn. No ring tone. It’s not connected.”
She slammed the phone down, almost brea
king it in two.
There has to be another way.
Wren marched over to the door’s keypad. All she had to do was figure out the code and they’d be out of there.
“What’s Rosa’s birthday?” Wren asked them.
They both shrugged.
“Look around,” she said. “Try to find something.”
When Lenny went to search the panic room a little more Brock came over to her.
“I can flit us out of here,” he whispered.
“That’s not a good idea,” she said. “Lenny will know you’re an angel.”
“Would you rather starve to death in here?” he demanded.
She hoped someone would come looking for them long before then. But who knew where they were? She hadn’t told anyone their destination.
Maybe it’s worth the risk. Lenny can keep a secret, right?
An idea suddenly came to her. What would the secret password of someone obsessed with Maureen use for her panic room? The answer was obvious.
Wren grinned and typed in Maureen’s birthdate. The keyboard glowed green and the door opened.
“That wasn’t too hard, was it?” she asked. She screamed and leaped to the side as Brock screamed a war cry and stormed past her. He fell headfirst into a sideboard, wood and splinters exploding behind him. He stood, smiled, and gave them the thumbs up. There was blood pouring down his head.
“You’re injured!” Wren shouted. “What were you thinking?”
The hulking angel put his hand to his head. “I was thinking I could smash the door in.” He looked at the blood on his fingers. “A splinter. This... this is not good.”
He fainted.
Wren sighed and ran to him. She kneeled down and looked at the wound on his head. There was the tiniest little splinter sticking out of his scalp, and the bleeding had stopped already. He looked so delicate, knocked out like that.
“Where did you get this great big hunk from anyway?” Lenny asked. He handed her a Kleenex to wipe away the blood. “It’s like he just appeared from nowhere.”
“It’s complicated,” said Wren.