A Moonlit Task: An Urban Fantasy Mystery Novel (End Gate Series Book 1)

by Tom Hansen

  The ten acres across the drive to the north, the last vestige of the wooded area that had once been this town’s milieu, was sold off by her husband in order to pay the debts that his uncle had left him when he inherited the house. Most of the homes in the immediate area were all built in the late sixties or early seventies. Nancy was there to watch the entire neighborhood spring up around her as a woman in her early twenties.

  To say her house stood out was an understatement, but what was even more unique was that even though it didn’t match the rest of the homes in her neighborhood, most people didn’t seem to notice. Once they did, they had a bunch of questions. She thought it odd that in a sea of mid-century tract houses, her mammoth three-story gothic home with its spires, gable roof-line, arched windows, and cupolas didn’t stand out. She initially thought the neighbors had just gotten used to the look of her home on the skyline, but soon she realized that there was something odd about her property.

  People didn’t notice her house until they were on her property. It was the oddest thing, but one she soon learned to deal with as construction guys, delivery folk, and others would stop and gape at her house as soon as they got into her driveway, much like Peter was doing right now.

  She had shrugged it off as some quirk of the people in the area, but Edna had different opinions. She said the house was spelled, something Nancy and she had had more than one heated conversation about.

  Still, she had to admit the last few days had been hard to explain with observable data. Tiger in Madison, Linda saying that witches are dying, and now voices that had only ever haunted her dreams now seemed to haunt her everywhere she went.

  Peter continued to gawk while she ducked into her house and grabbed her purse, which she had left in the library. She opened it up and took a look inside. The heavy green statue of the cat stared back at her.

  She looked back out at the young man still gaping at her slate roof. Nancy still hesitated. Something about walking out to hand it to him right now seemed wrong. She felt like there were still unanswered questions.

  What if it was the wrong Peter? Peter was a fairly common name, and while this boy certainly topped the list of suspects, it was possible there was another Peter in the mix. Maybe Linda had meant a drug dealer? Nancy shuddered at the thought.

  But more than just the name being similar, Linda had said he was trapped, and something about him being ready. She also said it would help him, somehow.

  That was enough for her. While she was fairly sure it was the correct Peter, her meeting with him yesterday did raise an eyebrow or two. What was a nineteen-year-old kid doing hanging out with someone in her eighties? Unless she was his grandmother, it just seemed odd. Nancy needed to learn more about this boy, and driving him home would give her that opportunity.

  She grabbed the figurine out of the purse and tucked it into a drawer in her roll-top desk. She wouldn’t jump the gun until she sorted out some answers first.

  She glanced out the window. Peter was waving goodbye to Josh as he drove away.

  At least he seems like a nice young man.

  “So, you go to WSU?” They had just pulled out of the driveway when Nancy figured he was trapped enough to start with the questions.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “And what do you study?”

  He thought for a moment. “Acting.”

  “Oh, well, that’s very cool. So tell me where you are from, Peter.”

  “From?”

  “Yeah, did you grow up here in Wisconsin or did you move?”

  Kids … it’s like pulling teeth to get information.

  “Oh, I’m from California, San Francisco area. I came here to study.”

  Nancy was finally able to place the accent she had been hearing. “Are the studies going okay?”

  Peter nodded. “They are. At least they are for me.”

  “For you? Why do you say that?”

  “Well, my father doesn’t completely agree with me being out here. Or with the degree.”

  “Your parents don’t like the degree?”

  “No, well it’s my father only. My mother … she died years ago.”

  “Oh my, I’m sorry to hear that.” Nancy remembered Anca telling her that the day before.

  “Thanks. I was pretty young when it happened, so I don’t really remember her.”

  “And your father never remarried?”

  “No, he’s a bit of a loner. I think he and mother got along okay, but I sometimes wonder if he even misses her.” Nancy saw melancholy set in over Peter’s expression.

  “I wouldn’t read into that too much. Married couples can be odd, especially when children are involved; we have our own ways of expressing or bottling up our emotions.” Memories of Richard tugged at Nancy’s heart. She shoved them aside to focus on Peter.

  “Yeah, I can see that.”

  Nancy hesitated, not sure she should ask it, but she finally did. “So what studies would your father prefer you do?”

  “Actually he didn’t want me going to college.”

  “Oh.” She kept driving, not sure what to say to that. From the corner of her eye she could see Peter smile. Nancy suddenly felt flushed.

  “I bet you weren’t expecting that, huh? Asian father, figured he wanted me to do math or physics or something? No, he’s actually a sculptor. He is really good at statues and figurines. My mom used to help sell them before she died. He wanted me to go into the family business like my two older brothers. He said I don’t need college to be successful.”

  Nancy thought about that for a second. Part of her wanted to interject saying how important an education was, but she also knew that you didn’t have to be well educated to be successful. Some of the most well-known billionaires were college-dropouts. Besides, he knew how important it was. Why else would he be here on this side of the country, going to college?

  The other part of what he said, the part about his father sculpting, stuck in her mind. The figurine might have been something Peter’s father had made. This had to be the right Peter, she was sure of it. She needed to find a way to see him again so she could give him the figurine and fulfill her promise to a dead woman.

  “Well, you are right. It’s good to see you working so hard. I worry about future generations and what they will think of education or the lack thereof. Good for you. So, what made you pick theater?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve always loved it. The pageantry, the mystery. The costumes, art, the loud, booming voices. There is just something magical about it. I remember when I was a kid, my father would take me to go see the dragon dance, the one they perform in the middle of the street. They do this really neat act where they will jump from tiny platform to platform, and each one is hunched over. Some of them are pretty high up in the air too!” Peter held his fingers out in an L-shape to indicate the size of the platforms, a square about one foot on each side, then held his hand high above his head.

  Nancy raised her eyebrows. “I’ve seen it on video, but never in person.”

  “You should come over sometime and see it. They don’t have a group that lives there full-time but we get the troupe to come by two or three times a year.”

  She pulled into the same spot on the side of the road where Edna had parked the day before. The two sat in silence for a moment before Nancy decided to turn off her rumbling car.

  “How long did you know Linda?”

  “I’m not supposed to … I mean, I don’t want to talk about her if that is okay.”

  The expression on Peter’s face turned Nancy ice cold. The change in his eyes frightened her the most. Where just moments before were youthful eyes lost in the endless expanse of possibility, there now only remained fear, revulsion.

  Her heart fell at the sight of the look in the boy’s eyes. He was in pain. This was not just grief over losing someone he cared about either, someone had told him to not discuss Linda or her death, and that was not right.

  “I’m sorry if I brought up things I shouldn
’t have. I didn’t mean to hit you with something out of the blue, it’s just that, well, I was the only one in the alleyway that evening and I was just hoping to get some more information about her is all. Someday when you’re ready to talk about her, though.” Nancy smiled weakly, trying not to seem too eager. “I can’t help but shake my head at her being caught up with drug dealers, though. Such a shame.”

  That got his attention. “What? No. She never sold drugs. She had people in her store every other day asking for pot on account of it being an herb shop, but she hated the stuff, she would have never sold it.” The passion was back in his eyes. Two stalwart flames burning with assurance.

  Nancy half expected this answer and was glad she had pushed him a little bit. “Oh, good. Well, I’m so glad to hear that rumor is false. You know how old women like to gossip. It was getting around, but I’ll be sure to squash that rumor like a bug next time I hear it.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Thank you Peter.”

  He smiled tentatively and nodded briefly. “It’s not that I don’t—” A loud metallic bang echoed in the distance and Peter cut his sentence off, looking down the alleyway with a wild look in his eye.

  “Something wrong?”

  He was silent for a bit then finally, in a voice that seemed too nervous for such a young man, replied. “It’s fine, it’s Anca. She’ll be looking for me to help with her studies.”

  She bent down, following his gaze. Anca Petran was shuffling down the stairs in the alleyway.

  Nancy put her hand on Peter’s forearm again. He reflexively tensed but relaxed after a moment. She considered inquiring further, but Anca was staring at them with a grumpy look from the darkness of the alleyway. Nancy decided to let the poor boy go and implement another plan.

  “Well, you’re here, safe and sound. Delivered as promised.” She grinned widely and waved at Anca.

  “Yeah, thanks for the ride; sorry I didn’t have any money.”

  “Not a problem at all. If you ever need another ride, you know where to find me. Oh, and one more thing, if you don’t mind. Do you have a job?”

  Peter looked confused.

  “I mean how do you earn money?”

  “Oh, well I do odd jobs here and there; mostly I’m here on scholarships, though. I help out the theater group in my building with lighting and other things, set building and the like, they cut me a break on my rent and I help out for some money here and there. Why do you ask?”

  Nancy tapped with her fingers on her pursed lips. “Because I think I have a job for you if you are interested.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Over there. Right in between those two trucks.” Nancy pointed to the side of the dingy road. “I still can’t believe we are doing this.” Nancy knew the reason, though. If she hadn’t suggested it, Edna would have wanted to come anyway, and Nancy wouldn’t allow Edna to do this alone. Plus, she had to admit she was a bit curious.

  “Oh, it’ll be fine. We’re just here to observe from a distance.”

  As hesitant as Nancy might have been, and despite all the butterflies in her stomach, she was glad she came. Besides, she wouldn't forgive herself if something had happened to Edna and she wasn't here to help.

  “So what are we looking for?” Nancy filled in the silence that was beginning to permeate the car’s cabin.

  Edna pulled out the slip of paper she’d stolen from Anca’s place.

  Why would Anca have held onto a piece of paper that detailed a late-night meeting for a drug deal from her dead partner? Why hadn’t she given it to the police as evidence for the murder investigation? Past that, why show it to two complete strangers? Nancy was sure something was up, but didn’t want to say anything about Anca yet. She wanted to confirm her suspicions first. The conversation with Peter earlier that afternoon had cleared up a few things in her head, and she was hungry for more answers.

  Something bigger than an old woman’s bizarre death was going on. Maybe this paper would help her piece together some of the puzzle. Nancy yearned to know the answers. Answers were the main reason she even considered the notion of coming out to something potentially dangerous.

  I will find answers to your riddles, Linda.

  She had made a promise to a dying woman and she intended to fulfill it. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t scared.

  Edna interrupted Nancy’s thoughts. “There, I think.” She pointed to a rundown old gas station half a block away on the other side of the street.

  Edna turned to Nancy and grabbed her arm. “Oh, this is so exciting, isn’t it?” As she turned on her phone, the light shone into Nancy's eyes.

  “You should probably turn off the phone so they don’t see the light.”

  “Oh yeah, that would be bad, huh?” Edna hit the power button on her smartphone with an audible click and stuffed it away. “Good thing I was done with it. We really should get you one.”

  “You already did, don’t you remember? For my last birthday.”

  “I did? Well, why aren’t you using it?”

  Nancy gave her friend “the look,” hoping it was enough. Nancy and technology did not mix. Like oil and water. Only her oil was on fire and filled with flame-retardant hornets. It was one of the reasons she still drove her Edsel. The thing worked like a charm all these years. She didn’t need any fancy buttons and LED lights. She just needed a car.

  “I almost forgot.” Edna held out a thick bracelet to Nancy.

  “What’s this?” Nancy took it with a bit of trepidation.

  “It’s a secret bracelet. I picked these up a while back and have been dying to use them.” Edna produced another one, roughly the same size and thickness as the one she had handed Nancy, but with more psychedelic colors. She unclasped the bracelet but instead of putting it on her wrist, she pushed on two sides and a small blade popped out where the buckle was.

  “Ooh, now that’s fancy.”

  Edna winked. “I know right? I figured we’re doing undercover detective work; we needed some protection.” Using the carpet of her car, she retracted the blade and donned the concealed-weapon bracelet.

  "So you never finished your story with Peter."

  "Oh that, well nothing much else. After dropping him off, I asked him if he wanted a job cleaning out my attic and he said yes."

  "Your attic, huh?" Edna's tone was caring and serious. Lost were the hits of whimsy. "It's good to see you finally moving on, Nan."

  Nancy pursed her lips. She didn't want to have this conversation again, not here. Edna did seem to care, she just didn't understand. Nancy sighed. "Thanks, and you're right. I know." She put her hands up in the air like she was being held hostage. "I admit it. I've been dragging my feet on this for a far too long."

  "It's what I've been saying for two years now and what Maria said before that."

  Maria. Nancy hadn’t heard that name in a while, and Edna rarely brought her up unless she was trying to really make a point. The counselor at their grief retreat had been a nice enough woman, and Nancy had come out of the retreat with a renewed vigor for life and the resolve to change.

  "Well, Maria was right. Make sure to hunt her down and tell her. Besides, I found what I needed at that retreat anyway." She smiled and Edna winked.

  “Aren’t you sweet? I agree. So what do we do here?”

  “We wait.” Nancy hoped the grief counseling line of questioning was over.

  “No entertainment while we wait? I wonder if there is a mobile dancing guys cabaret. Is it a cabaret if it’s all guys?”

  Nancy stared blankly at Edna. She sighed. “You know, I’m not sure. I should look that up when we get back, assuming we’re still alive.”

  Ignoring the jab, Edna continued. “I’ve heard of an all-male review. Maybe it’s a cabaret if it’s female dancers and a review if it’s male dancers? Lemme check.” Edna pulled her phone out of her purse.

  A sharp pang of fear knifed Nancy in her stomach. Waves of panic burrowed up her spine, like a sea of termites gorging on wooden flesh. It was lik
e a new sixth sense had awoken inside of her and she was still getting used to this new vestigial appendage. She wanted to do some self introspection. Re-evaluate her existence, but now wasn’t the time.

  Something was out there, watching her.

  Nancy grabbed Edna’s wrist, halting her movement. “Put that away.” Her tone was deathly quiet but stern.

  “What’s wrong?” Edna whispered back.

  Nancy knew what it was and where to look. Terror gripped her at both the reality of what she was looking at, and the fact that she somehow knew where and what it was before checking.

  She wasn’t sure which terrified her more.

  “The tiger is watching us.”

  Edna gasped. “Where?”

  Unless she had known where to look, Nancy wasn’t sure she would have ever noticed it, but the unmistakable outline of a large jungle cat was visible just behind the tall grass on the side of the mini storage units across the street.

  “Left side of the warehouse, see those tall bushes?”

  Edna nodded, remaining silent.

  “You can barely see its eyes in the middle of the bushes, but look at the ground. See the shadow?”

  “Sweet Mary, Mother of Joseph,” Edna breathed once she noticed the shadow. She gripped Nancy’s hand to the point that it hurt.

  “How did you see that thing?”

  Nancy wasn’t willing to take her eyes off it. “I don’t know. I just got this feeling of being watched; I looked up and there it was.”

  “That’s pretty creepy, Nan.”

  “I know, but that’s not the least of our problems.”

  “What now?”

  “Our drug dealers have arrived.”

  A mideighties Chevy pickup truck with a large wooden container in its bed rolled up a few buildings down from them. Headlights were off, and unfortunately there wasn’t much lighting from that distance to help Nancy see what was going on. She squinted but wasn’t able to make out the actual color of the truck, it being in shadow. Movement inside the truck indicated there was more than one passenger. By the look of it, the entire cab was filled with people.