I tried an experiment. Keeping my voice as level and calm as I could, I said, “Have a g-good day.”
He grinned brightly at me. “You, too.”
That was it. I got in my car and drove away.
But I went less than a block before I pulled into another parking lot and lined my car up so I could keep an eye on the convenience store.
Okay, I told myself, it had been dark on Halloween night when he and Dye Job jumped me. Even though he’d had me in that bear hug, maybe he hadn’t ever taken a good look at me. And the encounter hadn’t really lasted as long as it seemed, not much more than a minute, probably. He hadn’t recognized me just now, that was all.
But could somebody who seemed as nice as he did – big and scary-looking, sure, but basically nice – really go out at night and rob people? Maybe even worse?
Looking at him this morning, it didn’t seem possible, but I knew it was him. There was no doubt in my mind. Unless he had an identical twin, and they drove identical pickups, too. The odds of that seemed too slim to take seriously.
No, it was him, I thought, and I had to follow him and get his license plate number and report him to the police. And maybe while I was at it, he would lead me to his partner, that psycho redheaded bitch.
Buying gas took him a while. Pickups like that had big tanks, so big you almost had to get a bank loan to fill them up. But finally he left, and when he did, I was behind him. Not right behind him, of course. I had watched enough movies and TV to know better than following too close. I hung back several cars so he wouldn’t notice me…I hoped.
Gene drove over the Bay Bridge and past the Texas State Aquarium and the USS Lexington, the World War II era aircraft carrier that was permanently moored there as a tourist attraction. He kept going across the long Indian Point Bridge and finally into the suburb of Portland, a nice little working-class city on the other side of the bay from Corpus.
A couple of exits later, the pickup angled off the highway onto the frontage road. At the light, Gene turned left and went under the overpass, then headed up a road that was a mixture of business and residential areas.
I was still behind him. A little closer now since there wasn’t as much traffic after we got off the freeway, but still with at least one car between us all the time.
Obviously, I had gotten caught up in the thrill of the chase. I’d had plenty of chances to get close enough to read his license plate, if calling the cops on him was my only objective. But now I wanted to see where he was headed and what he was going to do.
What I found out was something I never would have expected. Gene pulled the pickup into the driveway of an older house with a large, fenced back yard with a lot of playground equipment in it. A sign in the front yard read LITTLE MAVERICKS DAY CARE – QUALITY CARE – CHRISTIAN ENVIRONMENT.
Oooookay, I thought as I slowed down. He couldn’t be a violent thief all the time. Maybe his day job was as a plumber or some other sort of repairman. He’d gotten a call to fix something here at this day care.
But he got out of the pickup carrying a couple of shopping bags, not a toolbox, and the front door of the house was open for him by the time he got there. Dye Job stood there waiting, wearing a dress today instead of the cowgirl get-up, and she came up on her toes to kiss him as he paused in the doorway. It was a quick but sweet kiss, the kind long-married couples who are still very much in love with each other exchange. I knew that because I had seen my mom and dad greet each other that way many, many times.
What the hell?
Two nights ago they’re trying to kill Donovan and me, and today they’re all domestic bliss and running a Christian day care? That made no sense at all, but it was obviously them. Gene the Monster might have a twin brother, but the idea that he was married to Dye Job’s identical twin sister? Remotely possible, I supposed – very remotely – but I wasn’t buying it.
An antique store was located diagonally across the street. I pulled in there and got out. There didn’t seem to be any point in worrying about them seeing me. Gene had been a few feet away from me at the convenience store and hadn’t recognized me at all.
When I went into the store, a pleasant-looking, gray-haired woman asked if she could help me. I smiled, pointed across the street, and asked, “Do you know anything about the p-people who run the day care over there?”
“You mean Gene and Dorothy? Of course. It’s been there for several years. They’re fine people.” She laughed. “Don’t let Gene scare you. He’s big and burly, I know, but he’s a real sweetheart. Why do you ask?”
I had already thought up a lie. “I’ve been looking for a place for my little girl,” I said. “She’s three.”
That was feasible. I was old enough to have a three-year-old.
“I’ve f-found that it’s a good idea to ask the people who work around a d-day care,” I continued. “They see what g-goes on there.”
The woman frowned slightly. “I’m not a busybody. I have my own place to run.”
“Oh, no, I d-didn’t mean that! I just meant that you must see things in the course of a d-day…”
I’d never make a detective. I just wasn’t good at this. But having a stammer can come in handy on rare occasions, and this was one of them. The woman obviously felt sorry for me and didn’t want to stay irritated with me, because her attitude softened and she said, “I can tell you that you won’t find a better place around here for your little girl. From everything I’ve seen and heard, Gene and Dorothy take very good care of the children who go there. Why, I’ve seen Gene out in the back yard with half a dozen little ones clambering all over him like he was a big old teddy bear!”
I struggled to wrap my mind around that concept. The woman was sincere, I could tell that. She genuinely liked the Monster and Dye Job. I remembered how people used to say about mass murderers, “Why, he always seemed so nice…”
Not so much anymore, though. These days when somebody turns up with a dozen bodies buried in the back yard, the neighbors were more likely to say, “Yeah, he was always creepy and scared the crap outta me.”
So I had absolutely no idea what to make of the things this woman was telling me. Either Gene and Dorothy had succeeded in leading a double life in which the two halves of their existence were radically different, or…
Or what? What other explanation was there?
I didn’t know, and I didn’t know how to find out. I was at a dead end, an utterly baffling one.
“Thank you,” I told the antique store woman with a smile. “I’ll t-talk to my husband, and we’ll come check it out.”
“You’ll be glad you did,” she told me as I left.
I wasn’t glad about anything right then, just puzzled. But then I thought about everything that had happened the night before, and that morning, and a warm feeling spread through me again. I might not have a clue what the story was with Gene and Dorothy, but at least I had Donovan.
I started to get my phone out and call him to let him know I’d found those two from Halloween night, but since we’d made arrangements to see each other again that evening, I decided to wait and tell him in person. I wanted to discuss the situation with him before I called the police and made such serious charges against Gene and Dorothy. Charges that, I reminded myself, we might not be able to prove. It would be my word and Donovan’s against both of theirs. There was no physical evidence against them, at least none that I knew of.
I had set out to take a look at Angela Vandermeer’s condo, so I headed back across the bridges to Corpus. Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell anything by looking at the place from outside. I wondered if she was in there, but after what had happened the last time, I wasn’t just about to go up there and knock on her door!
Since I was at loose ends now, I thought it would be a good idea to just kick back and relax for the rest of the day while I tried to process everything that had happened in the past forty-eight hours, so I headed back home.
I pulled into the parking lot and got out of my car, an
d the first thing I saw was my dad walking toward me. I hadn’t spotted his SUV at first, but it was there.
“Hello, Aren,” he said. “Since we hadn’t heard from you, your mother and I thought one of us ought to check on you – ” He stopped short as he saw the damage to the back of my car. “Good Lord! What happened?”
Since I already had a convenient fiction worked out, I used it again. “A hit-and-run driver rear-ended me a couple of n-nights ago after I left your house.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Because a sweet, good-looking guy named Donovan Cole came along and helped me instead, I thought, but I couldn’t tell him that, any more than I could say, And oh, by the way, he took my virginity last night, too.
“It’s fine,” I told him. “I handled it. I’ve already m-made arrangements with the insurance company to get it fixed, and the new bumper’s already on order at the body shop.”
“Oh. Well, in that case…” He shrugged. “Good job.”
It probably bothered him a little that he hadn’t gotten to step in and take care of things for me, but at the same time he was pleased that I hadn’t needed his help.
“Other than that,” he said, “how are things going? Any more work with that entertainment agency? Any…singing telegrams?”
I shook my head and said, “No singing telegrams.” But that didn’t mean I hadn’t done any singing since I’d seen him last. I remembered Angela Vandermeer shooting up into the sky and Taylor’s allergic reaction vanishing.
Suddenly I wanted very much to tell him about that and get his reaction. Some of my life was off-limits to him, but let’s face it, he had a lot more experience with mystical matters than I did. Maybe he would see some obvious answer that I was completely overlooking.
“We don’t need to stand out here in the p-parking lot talking,” I said. “Come on up.”
He thought about it for a second, then nodded. “All right. I don’t have to be anywhere for a while, and it would be nice to visit again.”
We went up the stairs to the second floor. When I’d unlocked the door and we’d gone inside, I said, “There’s something else you don’t know about. I have a new roommate.”
“Really? Did Taylor or Beth move out?”
“Nope. Matilda moved in. I’ll g-go get her.”
I went into my bedroom, leaving the door open behind me. Matilda was curled up asleep on the bed, but she woke up and lifted her head when I came in. I scooped her up and carried her back into the living room.
“Dad,” I said, “meet Ma-Ma-Ma – ”
Before I could get her name out, she hissed, kicked me hard in the chest with her hind legs, and sprang out of my arms as she launched herself directly at my dad’s face.
Chapter Fifteen
I was so shocked all I could do was stand there with my mouth hanging open. My dad was surprised, too. Matilda landed on his face, and if she hadn’t been declawed, I think she would have done some real damage to him. As it was, her hind paws, which still had their claws, dug into his chest and supported her as she batted at him.
He reached up and grabbed her. I thought he was about to sling her across the room, so I yelled, “Don’t hurt her!”
It was more a matter of her trying to hurt him. She twisted out of his grasp and kicked at him again with her hind feet as she fell.
She landed on the coffee table, as nimble as cats are supposed to be. He made another grab at her, but she shot off the table in a streak. She went between his feet and around and around his legs, moving faster and faster until I could barely see her. The blur she was creating with that incredible speed began to creep up his legs. My dad’s face twisted with pain.
“Dad!” I cried, but I didn’t know what to do.
In a voice that showed the strain of what he was going through, he chanted, “Stolen faces, stolen places, stolen friends so new, drive out the one who haunts the innocent, and make what we see true!”
Matilda let out a yowl that went through me like a knife and went rolling across the floor as if someone had swatted her. The blur that was slowly swallowing my father disappeared. He fell to one knee but caught himself there. Between him and Matilda hovered something mist-like that coalesced into a recognizable shape.
Angela Vandermeer hung there in the air, insubstantial and translucent, face twisted in hate. Then, as my father raised a hand toward her, she exploded violently and vanished.
Matilda had gotten up onto her paws and stood there looking confused and groggy. She seemed to be basically all right. My dad, though, was gray and obviously shaken. I ran to him, got both hands under one of his arms, and helped him to stand up.
“What…what…” was all I could manage to say.
“That cat was…possessed. I sensed that…as soon as I saw it. And that woman…knew I was on to her. Whoever she is…she’s a powerful witch.” He paused, then added grimly, “A witch who has no compunction about using black magic.”
“Dad…that was Angela V-Vandermeer.”
He looked like the name was familiar to him, but it took him a moment to place it. But when he did, he said, “The one who sent the singing telegram?”
I nodded. “You n-need to sit down and rest.” I glanced nervously at Matilda, who had sat down and started washing her face as if nothing had happened. “Is…is it safe…?”
He waved a hand. “Yes. The Vandermeer woman is gone. That cat’s just a cat again.”
I helped him to the sofa and then sat down beside him. “What was she doing to you, r-running around and around like that?”
“Making a hole.”
“In reality?” Was that how I had caused the Apolalypse Incident? Three-year-olds are full of energy and can run around a lot.
He shook his head. “Nothing quite that cataclysmic, except for me. That was a hole in time. She was trying to send me back to some other time.”
“Witches can d-do that?” I breathed.
“Powerful ones, who don’t mind crossing the line between good and evil. I’d say it’s not much of a boundary for that one. Luckily, I was able to drive her out of the cat, and without a physical vessel to do her bidding, she couldn’t complete the spell. When it was broken, the part of me that was gone snapped back here.” He held up a foot and looked at it. “I’ll be a little sore for a few days, but that’s all.”
“You mean…your f-feet just suddenly appeared in some other time period without the rest of you?” Even though there was nothing funny about Angela trying to kill my father, I had a hard time not laughing at that image.
“Yeah, pretty bizarre, isn’t it? I hope they didn’t spook anybody too bad.” He leaned forward. “You said that was Angela Vandermeer whose incorporeal form we saw for a moment?”
“That’s right.”
“Aren…how do you know what that woman even looks like? What have you been up to?”
I’d been up to a lot of things, but I knew what he meant. And suddenly I wanted nothing more than to dump it all in his lap and ask him to help me.
So that’s what I did.
I told him almost everything that I’d done and everything that had happened since leaving his house on Halloween night, leaving out only the fact that I was dating – and sleeping with – Donovan. In my edited version of events, he became just a helpful motorist who had scared off the Monster and Dye Job…or Gene and Dorothy, Christian child care workers, as they appeared to be. I told him about how Angela Vandermeer had tried to kill me when I showed up at her condo, and how I had almost killed her. All of it came pouring out of me in a semi-coherent babble, and I hoped he could make some sense of it. Judging by the bleak expression on his face, he got the gist, all right.
“It’s pretty obvious what happened with the cat,” he said when I finished my rambling tale. “The Vandermeer woman fled to someplace close by where she would be safe and sent her essence back to possess the cat. She’s been using it to spy on you. You’re lucky it didn’t suck your breath during the night and suffocate you.�
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He sounded completely serious. I supposed there was something to that old wive’s tale after all…at least when witchcraft and possession were involved.
“The reason you couldn’t find out anything about her on the Internet is because she’s mystically erased nearly all the signs of her existence,” he went on. “That way she can move around and do what she wants without anybody bothering her.”
“I’ll b-bother her if I get the chance,” I said, not trying to keep the anger out of my voice.
“Aren…this is a very powerful witch we’re talking about here. You don’t need to try to defeat her on your own.”
“Have you forgotten the Apocalypse Incident? I’m pretty p-powerful, too, I think.”
“I haven’t forgotten that…and I haven’t forgotten the spell the witches’ council put on you, either.”
“But I can sing now,” I argued. “I couldn’t do that before. And no matter how powerful Angela is, I came within probably a few seconds of k-killing her yesterday.”
“Some of that was luck,” he said. “What if you can’t think of the right spell quickly enough next time? You barely have any experience casting them.”
He was right about that, unfortunately. It had taken quick reflexes and a smack across the face with a sofa cushion to keep Angela from blasting me out of existence. I had come close to death yesterday, too, so close that thinking about it now made me feel a little hollow in the pit of my stomach.
“Do we need to report her to the witches’ council?” I asked. “Surely they’d do something about a rogue witch.”
“That’s a good idea, but it may take some time to convene them. Meanwhile, I’m worried about that woman coming after you again.” He got that stern look on his face. “I think you should come back to the house with me, so your mother and I can keep that from happening.”
Misadventures of a Tongue-Tied Witch: Boxed Set Humorous Witch Series Page 10