by Orren Merton
“Do you think that means anything?” I asked.
Rabbi Norm thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. I’ll bet the police interviewed all the neighbors to see if they saw anything. But maybe there’s a pattern in that.”
“Can you find out about these other victims?”
“Hmmm…” Rabbi Norm leaned back. “Maybe. I guess the place to start is any crime reports, to see if their jobs are mentioned. If we can’t find that information, hopefully my detective friend will have more success.”
“What about their congregations? Do you know if they went to churches or synagogues?”
“I’m not sure how I’d find that out, but if I could, yes, I could ask their congregations,” Rabbi Norm nodded. “It’s definitely something to look into.”
The rabbi looked at his watch. “Well, I have an eleven A.M. appointment, so I should get to the office a bit before that. Thank you for your help, Alex. I do appreciate it.”
“All I did was type a bit of information,” I shrugged. “I didn’t help all that much.”
“You helped me collect my thoughts, and that is invaluable,” Rabbi Norm said. “And if you’re interested in continuing, who knows? Your aid might be even more invaluable as we progress.”
“I definitely want to continue. Would you like me to look up these three people?” I offered, pointing at the screen.
“Are you sure you want to?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then please do,” Rabbi Norm patted my shoulder as he stood up. “I’m off to B’nai David.”
“Do you want me to text you if I find out anything interesting?”
“I’ll be busy the rest of the day, but thank you. Save the texting for Jake,” Rabbi Norm winked.
I let out a loud, overly melodramatic, playful sigh as the rabbi put on his jacket. He laughed as he opened the door. “Please help yourself to any food in the kitchen. I’ll be back at about three this afternoon with Rachel. See you later.”
“Bye Rabbi,” I said, and then turned back to the MacBook.
I thought I’d start by doing a simple web search for the first person on the list. I was shocked when Google came back with over ten million results. Since the victim was killed in Los Angeles I thought I’d go to the Los Angeles Times and search through its missing-persons blog. I found Wilhelmina Bruce, but it only said that she was a thirty-five-year-old loving wife and mother, presumed dead by her forty-year-old husband and four-year-old son. I didn’t know if that meant that she was a stay-at-home mom or not. I saved the information in the rabbi’s spreadsheet and hoped he could figure it out. I thought about the boy. To be that young and lose your mother…I felt so sorry for him.
I looked for the remaining names the same way. For one of them it actually did list a career, that he was a playwright. I dutifully wrote that down.
I thought about texting Jake, but even though I’d only been at the computer for a little over an hour, I was sick of typing. So instead I called him.
“You called!” he said. I could almost hear that huge grin of his through the phone.
“I know, crazy right? Using a phone to actually call someone. Who does that anymore?” I teased.
“I like kickin’ it old school,” Jake laughed. “And it’s great to hear from you. What’s up?”
“Remember I texted last night about the priest?”
“Yeah,” Jake answered, with a far more serious tone. “Is Rabbi Hirsch okay?”
“He’s taking it hard, but I think so. Anyway, I’ve been helping him look into it. And that’s led to looking into missing persons cases…”
“Like my mom, you mean?” Jake’s voice was now extremely interested.
“Yeah. It seems like everyone who went missing with similar circumstances was nabbed from their home.”
“Sounds familiar,” Jake sighed.
“And the neighbors were interviewed and nobody saw anything.”
“Exactly. Nobody noticed anything at all. Oh—our next-door neighbor said her little toy poodle went crazy. That’s it.”
“The dog went crazy?” I repeated. “Could that mean something?”
“I doubt it, or the detective would have told us. But you can ask her if you want to investigate yourself.”
“Really? She wouldn’t mind?” After a month of rarely being outside, the idea of doing some investigative footwork was kind of exciting. Plus, there were some other benefits I could think of as well….
“You wouldn’t mind coming with me would you? It wouldn’t be too…”
“Difficult? Not at all,” Jake said. “Honestly, feeling like I’m doing something about it would be the best feeling of all. Do you want me to come by and get you this afternoon?”
“I think I want to do more research. How about tomorrow morning, maybe around ten? Will you be busy?”
“I’m just hanging around the dorms, reading and surfing the net. I’d love to see you tomorrow. I mean—to pick you up and investigate with you.”
“Uh huh. Busted,” I grinned.
“Am I in trouble?” he teased.
“No, I’m looking forward to it too. See you then.”
“See you tomorrow, Alex. Bye!”
“Bye,” I said and disconnected the call.
I spent most of the day seeing if I could find more information on the two victims we didn’t have congregations for, but I didn’t find anything else. After a while I heated up a can of chicken soup that was in the pantry and had a few potato chips, then read more of my demon book and waited for the rabbi and Rachel to come home.
10
“So do you want me to take the lead on this? I’ve known Mrs. Whattley my whole life.”
“Yeah, sure,” I said to Jake as he drove his Subaru into the driveway of his parent’s large, two-story tract home in Irvine. While being Little-Miss-Investigator sounded like a great idea while sitting in the rabbi’s house, now that the reality of having to actually talk to a person was sinking in I was feeling nervous, awkward, and anxious.
We both climbed out of Jake’s car, and he led me to Mrs. Whattley’s front door. We could hear her little poodle start yapping as soon as we started across the sidewalk in front of her house. The yapping got more and more desperate the closer we came to the door, and we could hear the dog scratching at the door as soon as Jake rang the bell. But once we heard Mrs. Whattley turning the locks, the yapping and scratching stopped.
“Oh hello, Jake! How are you dear? How is school? Is your brother feeling more relaxed after his big brouhaha?” Mrs. Whattley was a tall, heavy woman, with a voice as low and gravelly as I would have expected from a woman that big. But her ebony skin and graying, thick black hair looked great for a woman of around grandma age, and she had a kindly smile that made her already warm greeting seem even more inviting. I recognized her as one of the women who had attended Josh’s Bar Mitzvah.
“And a lady friend!” she said, turning toward me, then back to Jake. “How perfect! Please come in!”
“Hi Mrs. Whattley,” Jake smiled. “It’s great to see you again. This is my friend Alexandra. She was at the Bar Mitzvah too.”
Mrs. Whattley scrunched her eyes at me. “I don’t think I remember seeing you there, dear—but how wonderful of you to have come! Hello Alexandra, I’m Marian Whattley,” she smiled and held out her hand.
“Hi Mrs. Whattley,” I smiled nervously and held out my hand. “Please, call me Alex.”
“Nice to meet you, Alex. Please come in, both of you! Have a seat in the living room,” she waved her arm absent-mindedly, as if Jake knew exactly where she was pointing and she didn’t need to guide him. She started walking to the kitchen. “I’m afraid I don’t have any cookies baked or anything….”
Jake laughed as he walked me to the large living room that was overflowing with old-style plush couches and chairs. It looked really comfy, but extremely gaudy, too. We sat down together on an oversized faded orange couch that looked like it was probably older than Jake and me combined.<
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“Please Mrs. Whattley, no cookies or anything,” Jake said. “I just came to say hello.”
“And to introduce me to the lovely Alexandra,” she said, a huge grin on her face as she entered the living room carrying two glasses. She walked around the orange couch to the opposite side of the large brown coffee table in front of the couch. She put a glass down in front of each of us on the table. “How did you two meet?” she asked, then headed back into the kitchen.
I turned to Jake. I wasn’t quite sure what to tell her.
Jake smiled reassuringly at me. “Our rabbi introduced us,” he said.
“That’s so nice!” she said, returning to the living room holding one more glass and a pitcher. She held the pitcher over my glass. “Do you like iced tea?” she asked.
“I love iced tea,” I smiled. “Thank you.”
She gave me a quick approving smile and bob of her head while pouring me a full glass. Then she poured one for Jake and herself. She put the pitcher down on the coffee table and sat in a high-backed brown suede chair next to the couch.
“I met my Edgar—Mr. Whattley,” she said mainly to me, “almost sixty years ago now at a church dance. We were so young, just kids,” she giggled. “But we were married eight years later and remained married his entire life.”
I had absolutely no idea how to respond to that. I reached for my glass and took a long, slow sip of iced tea.
“How are Stacy and Tony?” Jake asked.
“Just wonderful, thank you for asking,” Mrs. Whattley said, taking a sip of tea and cradling her glass in her hands as she sat back. “Stacy is busy as all get-out, what with raising Danny and Steven and managing that sports store. Tony has another lady in his life, Beth I think. I haven’t met her, but Tony says that she’s a nice woman and she’s good to Allison when he gets her on weekends.”
“How’s Cuddles?” Jake asked, reaching for his glass. “We heard him saying hello to us when we were outside….”
“Yes, that’s very strange,” Mrs. Whattley nodded. “I’m surprised he’s not all over you. Let me go find him.”
She put her glass down on a tiny round table by the arm of the chair and got up. “Cuddles? Where’s my itty bitty man?” she said as she walked toward the kitchen.
“How are you doing?” Jake turned and quietly whispered to me when we were alone.
“I’m okay,” I nodded with a faint smile. “Not good with people, you know….Some investigator I am, huh?”
Jake smiled. “Don’t worry, we’re getting there.”
“There you are, sweetie! What are you doing under the table? Come on out…” we heard from the kitchen.
“Guess she found him,” I said, brilliantly stating the obvious.
Jake raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“Jake, honey, could you come here and help me with Cuddles? I can’t bend so well these days.”
“Of course,” Jake answered. He raised his finger and eyebrows to let me know he’d be right back, then bounded into the kitchen. I sipped my tea some more.
“Hey Cuddles, how are you bud? Come on little beastie,” I heard Jake coax the dog. “Yeah, that’s a good dog, that’s it…”
“That’s my sweet man,” Mrs. Whattley cooed.
“Now let’s say hi to Alex,” Jake said.
I looked over the back of the couch toward the kitchen.
“Hey bud, what’s going on?” I said.
As soon as I could see Jake leaving the kitchen holding a tan miniature poodle, the dog started whining and trying to climb over his shoulder back into the kitchen.
Jake held him tightly and stepped into the living room.
Cuddles started crying and shrieking, clawing at Jake, snapping at him to let him go.
“Cuddles!” Mrs. Whattley exclaimed. “What is wrong with you? Why are you being like this? You love company! Calm down!”
“Is it me?” I asked with concern. “Should I go?”
“Of course not!” Mrs. Whattley stated flatly. “Cuddles never reacts this way! He’s a lover, not a nervous Nelly. I don’t understand what’s gotten into him!”
“It’s okay boy…” Jake said, clearly straining as the dog was getting more desperate. “Let’s just go back into the kitchen.” Jake turned around.
Mrs. Whattley turned with him, then turned back toward me. “Just a second, honey. I’m very sorry.”
“No problem,” I said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. I turned back around toward the coffee table.
Jake and Mrs. Whattley returned to the living room. “Alex, I don’t understand,” she apologized as she took her seat on the chair. “Cuddles loves meeting people, I really don’t understand why he went so crazy. Do you have a large dog at home or something he might be scared of?”
“I don’t have a dog right now,” I shook my head. “But I love dogs. I had an Akita growing up, a huge dog. It was my best friend. It died a few years ago and we never got another dog, but I generally don’t scare dogs away.”
“Of course not sweetie, it’s not you,” Mrs. Whattley said. “He’s probably just having a senior moment or something, poor seventeen-year-old dog. He was a gift from Stacy after my Edgar passed. He’s been the man of the house ever since.”
“That’s really sweet,” said, searching for some way to make her think of me as something other than the girl who made her dog go crazy. “My mom was named Stacy too, by the way. Stacy Gold.”
“You don’t say,” Mrs. Whattley smiled. “I love that name.”
“Has Cuddles ever reacted like this before? Over anything?” Jake asked.
“I don’t think so. He’s always so—oh, he did once, I think it was the day…” Mrs. Whattley trailed off, her expression becoming one of deep sympathy and pain.
“My mom disappeared,” Jake finished her sentence.
Mrs. Whattley nodded. She looked down into her glass. “They haven’t…”
“No, they haven’t found her body,” Jake said, trying to sound matter-of-fact but his voice slightly cracking.
“Well, that has nothing to do with Alex,” Mrs. Whattley said. “He’s just getting old, that’s all. Like all of us—except for you two!” she winked.
Jake smiled back. We stayed for a little while longer while Jake and Mrs. Whattley caught up with each other. Mrs. Whattley tried to ask about my plans for the future, and I tried not to tell her I didn’t have any by giving general answers about looking at community college and not being sure what I wanted to study. Luckily she was happy with that. When we finished our iced teas, Jake said we needed to get going. Mrs. Whattley walked us to the door, telling us she was thrilled to see Jake and meet me, and inviting me back anytime—and assuring me that Cuddles wouldn’t be crazy next time.
When we left we walked back to Jake’s Subaru.
“Wow, did I suck in there,” I said as soon as we sat down.
“What? No you didn’t!” Jake insisted.
“I barely said a word, I freaked the dog out, and you had to do the talking. But I guess I sipped iced tea like a rock star,” I sighed.
“Hey, Mrs. Whattley and I have known each other every day I’ve been alive. Of course we’re going to have more to talk about. You joined the conversation when you had something to add. You did great. Seriously. Don’t feel bad.”
“Thanks. So do you think it’s related that Cuddles went crazy both when your mom disappeared and now?”
“I don’t know,” Jake shook his head. “It might just be like Mrs. Whattley said, maybe he’s turning into a scaredy-cat in his old age. Mrs. Whattley says that he’s good with people, but I don’t think he’s met anyone new in probably 10 years or so, when her daughter Stacy had Steven.”
I nodded. “But what if Cuddles went crazy because whoever came to your house that day had something in common with me?”
As soon as I said that, I froze. What if it wasn’t someone who had the human part in common with me…but the other part? What if…oh God…what if this is what happens to people
like me? What if one day I’m going to snap and start murdering people to satisfy the demon inside?
“Have you been using Eau d’ Serial Killer perfume?” Jake asked.
I just stared at him. “Jake…I…”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry Alex, that was a really awful attempt at a joke. I can have a dark sense of humor sometimes. I was just trying to say that I don’t see how that could be it. Cuddles isn’t tall enough to look out the windows, so it couldn’t have been something about how you look. That leaves your voice or your scent, right? As far as smell goes…well…you smell…great…”
“Thanks Jake,” I said, feeling less defensive, but still a bit on edge. “It’s Eau d’ Rabbi’s Soap.”
Jake smiled. “I feel one-hundred percent confident that whatever happened to my mom, it wasn’t at the hands of someone who smelled like you.”
I nodded. Maybe it wasn’t the scent, though….
“So maybe your voice,” Jake said. “Cuddles did hear you speak before he freaked out, right? So maybe it was a young woman? Or a guy using some sort of speech synthesizer to sound like a young woman? Or maybe more than one person, one of whom was a young woman?”
“Maybe,” I nodded. “But would a woman really do this?”
“We don’t even know for sure what ‘this’ is yet, until we find Mom or one of the other victims. So who knows?”
“True,” I agreed. “So what do we do now?” I asked.
Jake thought for a moment. “Let’s go down to the Irvine Police Station and tell Detective Godinez what happened. Maybe it’s nothing, but we might as well, right?”
“Right,” I said, leaning back in the passenger’s seat. “Let’s go.”
11
Jake turned right on Civic Center Plaza from Harvard Avenue and pulled into the Irvine Police Department parking lot. “Do you know this detective well?” I asked.
Jake shook his head. “Not really. He seems like a good guy, though. Like he cares, you know? He gave me his number and I called him a couple times…a couple times a month, actually,” Jake shrugged. “I just…”