Marlene led the little guy into the house again much to the owl’s chagrin and closed the door. “What else do you eat, other than mice?”
“Voles,” Cromwell said.
“I’m fresh out of voles also. Whatever they are.”
“Gerbil?”
“How about a salad?”
“Are you making a joke?”
“Fruit?”
The owl shook his head. “Never mind. I will ask the others to bring me food. I cannot leave you here alone.”
“Do you drink water?”
The owl made what she thought was a pained expression. “Of course I drink water.”
“Alright. Fine. No reason to get touchy. I’m just trying to be a good hostess. Come into the kitchen.”
Marlene poured some tap water into a short glass and put it on the floor in front of Cromwell. For a moment, the owl just looked at it then he took a step forward and bent at what Marlene was assumed his waist and lowered his beak till it dipped into the water.
“Do you have a tongue?” she asked.
Cromwell muttered something between sips. It was probably a good thing she didn’t catch it.
Marlene poured herself a glass of water and chugged just in case her earlier diagnosis of dehydration was correct. Then she put the glass on the counter and opened the fridge. She decided to eat the salad that Cromwell had passed on.
“You had a vision?” the owl asked.
“Yes. I was standing before a lake and looking out over a battlefield.”
“Was the sun setting?” Cromwell asked.
“Yes … how did you know?”
“It is my job to know these things. The knowledge has been passed along through many generations to me.”
“There were a lot of men lying in the field … dead. It was pretty gruesome. And then I saw Arthur.”
“Yes.” The owl was getting excited again. “Arthur was wounded?”
“Badly. He was dying. There was nothing I could do.”
“You have seen now one of Merlin’s crucial experiences. You know what it is to lose someone.”
“It was weird …” Marlene was still trying to make sense of it. “It was like I was observing, but then it was like I was there. And I experienced all these emotions … I knew what Merlin was feeling, but it was more than that. I was feeling it myself. All the friendship and loyalty and love toward Arthur.”
“Did you say love?” Cromwell asked.
“Yes. Between friends, I mean.”
Cromwell regarded her a moment before speaking again. “The Merlin exists forever, but it is during his sleep he is able to traverse the ages.”
“His sleep? What are you talking about?” Marlene dumped the salad into a bowl and opted to go with the balsamic dressing.
“Have you not studied the history yet?” Cromwell asked. “It is important that you understand what happened before, as it will all likely happen again.”
“Histories,” Marlene said. “I went online last night to read about Arthur and Merlin. Do you have any idea how many conflicting accounts there are? Scholars can’t even agree on whether Merlin and Arthur existed, and most of them don’t even think the two men lived during the same time, assuming they lived at all.”
Cromwell shook his head sadly. “History is lost to history. People forget what is important. The stories we tell each other and pass along from one generation to the next are corrupted over time. But I will say this. Everything you read is based in truth. Everything.”
Marlene shook her head and leaned against the counter, salad bowl in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to try this?”
Cromwell just gave her a look.
“Okay, okay.” Marlene sighed. “Who was the man that came here last night?”
“He is not a man,” Cromwell said. “Not anymore. Dark sorcery consumed him. It is what he uses to continue his existence.”
“That doesn’t really help.”
The owl grew distracted. His body didn’t move an inch, while his head turned nearly three hundred and sixty degrees.
“The Dux Bellorum arrives!” Cromwell beat his wings and scooted onto the counter.
“Is that the guy that tried to kill me?”
“No, woman!” Cromwell pointed with his beak. “Arthur is here.”
Dux Bellorum … she’d read that somewhere last night but couldn’t remember what it meant. Latin for something. She had no idea how she was going to remember all the details of all the conflicting myths and glean some kind of meaning or truth from them.
“Okay …” Marlene figured Artie would think it weird if an owl was sitting on her kitchen counter. “You want to go out the back?”
“Excuse me?” Cromwell teetered back and forth on his long owl legs. “I want to meet him.”
Her doorbell rang.
She wondered what Artie was doing here tonight, or how he’d even gotten her address. Then again, it was a small town and just about everybody knew where she lived. This had been her mother’s house so she’d been living in it for thirty years, minus a few years away at college.
“Listen, Cromwell. Maybe in olden times, it was perfectly acceptable for the Merlin to cohabitate with an owl. But these aren’t olden times. If Artie sees you in here, he’ll think I’ve lost my mind. And if I’m going to fulfill this destiny, I need him to think me sane so he’ll actually listen to what I have to say. Right?”
“People live with cats and dogs, mice, rats, gerbils, chinchillas, turtles, fish, and snakes of all things. Why not owls?”
“That’s a great question, Cromwell, and I think we should explore the psychology and process of species co-evolution and symbiosis at a later date. For now, could you go out the back?”
Artie knocked on the door.
“Please?” Marlene pleaded.
Cromwell sighed. “Very well.”
He swooped off the kitchen counter and headed straight for the window over the kitchen sink. The only problem was, the window wasn’t open.
“Wait!”
Cromwell twisted at the last moment and managed to slow down enough he didn’t fly through the window. But he left a big crack in it.
“This is why I asked you to leave the windows open!” he said, quite angry.
“Jeez, sorry about that.” Marlene rushed over and pulled the bottom (and uncracked) half of the window up, and then the exterior screen too. “Are you okay?”
“Only my pride is wounded.” Cromwell hopped onto the window’s ledge and looked back at her over his wing. “And I feel a bit foolish flying into the window as well.”
Cromwell swooped out.
The doorbell rang once more.
“Coming!” Marlene carefully shut the window. The crack on the upper part of the window was bad and pretty obvious. She’d have to get it fixed.
Like she could afford a new window right now. At least it was a small one …
Marlene hurried to the front door, checking herself in the mirror in the foyer first. She was still in her outfit from the AA meeting. Her color had returned after the fainting spell. She didn’t look half bad.
Not in a sexual way, she told herself. In a professional way.
Her relationship with Artie was strictly on an intellectual level. Though only a day had passed since she met Merlin and started talking to an owl and was nearly killed by a still-unnamed dark sorcerer, Marlene had seen enough in those twenty-four short hours to know that all these things added up and were also real.
She had always believed in a destiny of sorts. Before yesterday, she had thought it a product of personal ambition, circumstance, upbringing, and intelligence. But right now she was thinking it also included another component she couldn’t describe adequately. Something like the tidal force that was history and the zeitgeist coming together …
Marlene opened the door.
Artie had a five o’clock shadow that darkened his all-American looks and made him look a little more dangerous. He smiled.
“Hey, Marl
ene. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve stopped by.”
“Of course not.”
He was wearing a shirt and tie. The shirt was still buttoned all the way to the top and the tie was still a tight knot. It was eight o’clock—apparently his work day wasn’t over yet.
She invited him in.
“I didn’t stalk you,” he said with that smile. “I just always knew where you lived.”
She closed the door. “Really? I thought I was pretty invisible to you in high school.”
He gave her a hurt look as they walked through the foyer. Artie seemed to know exactly where he was going, even though he’d never been inside her house.
“Marlene, like I said, I wish we had gotten to know each other better.” He shook his head. “When I look back, I think about all the time I wasted associating with certain people who were just no good.”
It was a rare, unguarded moment. She seemed to bring those out in him. “What’s past is past. A decision isn’t a mistake as long as you learn from it.”
“Deep.” He stopped in the kitchen, his eyes scanning the room. “Hey, it’s been a long day and I was wondering if you had anything to drink?”
Oh boy. Marlene didn’t drink that often. And the last time she’d had a man to the house had been … she didn’t want to think about.
Hold on, she told herself. Artie isn’t a man. He’s a client.
“I’m not a big drinker, but I think I’ve got a bottle in the cupboard.” She shuddered at the thought of how dusty and probably bad it was. Dirk had brought it over, three or four years ago. They’d gotten into an argument and ended up not even opening it. Later, her sister had told it was the cheapest bottle of wine the liquor store offered.
“Great.” Artie looked around. “You mind if I give myself the tour, while you pour a couple glasses?”
“Make yourself at home.”
Artie left the kitchen. Marlene hated how nervous he made her feel. He was just so … at ease all the time. No matter the person, no matter the situation. He was just himself. Comfortable in his own skin.
Marlene found the bottle of wine under her reusable grocery bags. A fine layer of dust covered it. She wiped it off and then had to find the bottle opener …
Artie came back into the kitchen as she poured him a glass. He headed over to the sink. “What happened here?”
He was pointing at the window above the kitchen sink, where Cromwell had nearly killed himself.
“Oh, just an old window.”
He gave her a look. “That looks like somebody threw a rock.”
“Probably.”
“See?” He shook his head, his eyes back on the glass. “This sort of thing didn’t happen in our day.”
“You broke the Millers’ window, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” He laughed. “But I owned up to it and made amends. That’s what I’m talking about. A sense of responsibility. People these days try to get out of everything. They don’t want to contribute, they don’t want to serve, they just want their piece and want to be left alone until they’ve got a problem and nee—”
His eyes had drifted down to the sink.
“What?” Marlene asked, worried.
“There’s a feather in your sink.”
“Oh, is that where that is?” She hurried over and picked up Cromwell’s feather and put it behind her back. “I saw this outside today and was thinking I’d turn it into a cool quill.”
“Oh.”
“Anyway.” She handed him the glass of wine. She hoped it tasted alright.
He took it gratefully. “You’re not having one?”
“I don’t feel like it,” she said. “Now, Artie, what brings you here tonight?”
“I thought about your idea.” He held the glass out, like he was toasting her. “And I’m going to do it!”
“That’s great!” Though it was politics, Marlene couldn’t help but feel excitement at the prospect of someone—no, Artie—challenging the mayor and bringing change to the community. Medboro needed it. Maybe when he’d first been elected a long time ago Mayor Gant had wanted to do something positive for the town. Maybe. But soon enough his family and his close friends all began to benefit financially.
“I’m very excited.” Artie nodded. “And I know this sounds crazy, but I think you and I are going to make a great team. We’ll need some boots on the ground for the campaign and a clear message. In fact, we need to be clear about everything. Just like the budget. Transparency is going to win us this election. I want the people to see what my plans are.”
She nodded. “That will really set you apart from the mayor.”
He touched her shoulder. “Come on. Are you really going to let me drink alone on such a momentous occasion?”
One drink wouldn’t hurt. She smiled.
Artie poured her a glass. They looked into each other’s eyes and said cheers. Marlene thought if only Artie could go around town and give every single and married woman the smile he was giving her right now, he’d get one hundred percent of the female vote. Then she chided herself. Surely that was a cheap way to influence the electorate—through sex appeal.
God, had she already started thinking like a crooked politician?
She took a big gulp. The wine tasted good, to her surprise, but that was probably only because she didn’t drink a lot and wouldn’t know good wine anyway. Artie finished his and put his glass on the counter.
“Marlene, thank you for this.” He touched her shoulder again, and this time her head began to spin. Was her tolerance so weak that the wine couldn’t have made her drunk already! “Now, about your fees.”
Marlene was having trouble focusing. “There won’t be … any fees.”
“You will have a position in my cabinet, Marlene,” Artie said. “After I get elected. And even if you won’t accept any money, between now and the election you’re going to have expenses. You should let me reimburse you for those at the very least.”
“Artie … Arthur …” Marlene stepped back to give herself some space. When he was no longer touching her shoulder, her head cleared. “I will not accept any money from you.”
“Marlene, that’s very selfless of you but being campaign manager will eat up most of your day I think. How are you going to live?”
She didn’t want to take his money. That would make things official. She wasn’t ready for that kind of commitment. Not yet.
“Artie, when everybody finds out I’m your campaign manager and you win that election, my life coaching business will take off.”
He shook his head. “You’re not going to have a spare minute when I’m mayor. I’ll need you on my cabinet.”
Marlene wasn’t sure if fulfilling her destiny meant accepting a place on Artie’s staff once he was mayor. The idea didn’t really appeal to her. But rather than decline the role now and invite a larger discussion about their future, she just smiled.
“Oh, I’ll find the time.” She drank more of her wine. “I want to help people, Artie.”
He nodded thoughtfully and poured himself a second wine. “How better to help than be on my staff? Marlene, we’re going to make a real difference around here. We need to build a new grade school and attract new teachers, I think we could attract some outside investors to build a new green community center, and we need to reinvest in our social programs to really foster that sense of community. We used to have a great theater, remember how people used to come to Medboro to see our plays?”
He went on and on. Artie was an endless font of ideas. Marlene listened to them all through two more glasses of wine. Many of his plans were pie-in-the-sky, but all of them were heartfelt and well-intentioned. He would do away with the cronyism, favoritism, and nepotism. He would channel the money where it needed to go: to the schools, to the police, to the fire department. By the time the conversation started to peter out, she put her glass down and showed him to the door.
“Thanks again, Marlene. We are going to do great things!”
Before she
knew it, he was hugging her. His powerful arms wrapped around her. For some reason, she thought of Artie’s old friend, Lance in that moment and a feeling of dread swamped her.
“Artie.” She broke the embrace and the bad feeling lessened but didn’t go away. “Where are you going to get all the money to run a campaign and pay for the boots on the ground?”
He smiled. “I’ve already worked that out. My old buddy, Lance, wants to see change too. He has deep pockets and doesn’t want anything in return …”
Nineteen
Jill Lauer smiled as Marlene and Artie entered the coffee shop. Ganny was working again and as always, not happy about it. Artie joined Jill at the corner booth where they could have some privacy. Marlene met her sister at the counter.
“So.” Ganny nodded in Artie’s general direction. “Did you two …?”
“NO!” Marlene said, a little too loudly. She caught Artie and Jill turning to look. She lowered her voice. “Absolutely not. He’s a client. That’s all. And that’s all it will ever be.”
“A client.” Ganny clearly didn’t believe her. “Marlene, you are hopeless. That man is smitten with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m not. You are.”
“Changing the subject, where do you want to go after the race on Saturday?”
Every year, Ganny did the Spring Triathlon. The first leg involved swimming a mile in Diamond Lake. Marlene was always there to cheer her sister on, then later take her out for a big dinner. Ganny was always ravenous after the triathlon.
“You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?” Marlene asked.
“The race was cancelled.”
“What?” Marlene frowned. “I guess I’ve been so busy with everything else …”
“Yeah. Diamond Lake is polluted.”
She’d forgotten all about that. Of course they would have cancelled the triathlon.
“Thanks to Mayor Gant, the town has to cancel the triathlon. This was supposed to be the thirtieth anniversary of the race.” Ganny pointed at Artie. “He should do something about this. The mayor shouldn’t be able to get away with this crap anymore!”
“How do they know it’s polluted?” Marlene asked. She couldn’t help but feel skeeved out. She’d swam in the lake last September on a hot day.
The Once and Future Scream Queen: Marlene Ambrosia Mysteries Page 11