Strange Brew (The Tortie Kitten Mystery Trilogy Series Book 2) Page 8

  While Pi set up, I headed to the bathroom. My scented clothes went in a doubled grocery bag. They were good work clothes, so I’d try to launder them. Why couldn’t Brock bum a ride when I was in my Walmart outfit? After a quick bath, I pulled on sweat pants and a T-shirt. By that time, the house was filled with cameras on stands. Other gear I couldn’t identify stood in the hall, thick wires trailing down the stairs.

  I followed them. The cables led to Joy and Jerry. They sat at the kitchen card table hunched over a laptop. “Looks like everything is on line. Go to the second floor so we can see if the motion detectors are activated.”

  “Okay,” Joy stood up. “Should I check the mics?”

  Jerry slipped a set of headphones on. “Good call.” He turned to me. “We didn’t set up in the attic. Have you heard any footsteps or voices up there?”

  I thought about Grammy Epi in the freestanding mirror. “Nope. Not a thing.”

  “Oh, good,” Joy shivered. “Attics are always full of spiders.”

  A rack of electronic equipment stood against the wall, a galaxy of jewel lights flickering against the black faces. “This stuff looks expensive. How much do you charge for investigating ghosts?”

  “It is expensive,” Jerry said. “But we do this for free.”

  I took one of the folding chairs. “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want people to be afraid. I’m afraid of lots of things. Dogs, loud noises, dolphins, crowds. I’m not allowed to go to the water park anymore, even on weekdays. But there isn’t anything I can do about all that. But if people are afraid of something in their home, I can debunk it, and they can live without fear.”

  Heat rose in me. “Is that what you’re here for? To debunk my ghost?”

  Jerry didn’t look up from the screen, tapping a few buttons. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  Was it? It kinda was. Joy came back down the stairs.

  “Everything working?”

  “Everything online,” Jerry said. “Joy actually believes in ghosts. I think she wants to contact our parents in the afterlife and ask them why she’s had to take care of me since they died.”

  “We take care of each other, Jerry.” Joy’s face colored.

  “What she means by that is that I make a lot of money coding. I have to work remotely, because people find my behavior offensive. But working for Silicon Valley companies has made me rich. Joy is a part-time clerk. She makes hardly any money. But Joy can do things like grocery shopping, schedule doctor appointments, pay the bills on time, and find clothes that fit me and don’t make me look socially awkward.”

  Joy fiddled with some of the electronics. “I don’t think the world needs to hear about how we live, Jerry.”

  “She doesn’t have boyfriends, because it takes up a lot of time caring for what is essentially a fully grown adult who is still a child. Also, I think bringing home a boyfriend to meet me would be very awkward for the hypothetical boyfriend. She’s afraid this potential boyfriend would think I’m retarded. That word upsets her. It doesn’t upset me. The origin of the word, retard, means slow. I’m not slow. People who call me a retard are the slow ones.”

  Joy hurried out of the kitchen, face dark, mouth a thin, straight line.

  “Even my sister finds my behavior offensive,” Jerry watched her walk outside. “But she still loves me. Otherwise, she’d find another keeper. So I guess I love her back.”

  “You don’t have any filter, do you?” I said. “Whatever comes into your mind comes out your mouth.”

  “Yes. Joy makes lists of things I shouldn’t talk about. Like your butt, for instance. I’m not supposed to comment on the attractiveness of the size and shape of it. Talking about women’s physical features is on the do not talk list.”

  “If it’s on the do not talk list, why are you saying it?”

  “I was giving an example.” Jerry looked up, but didn’t meet my eyes. Ugly wandered into the kitchen and rubbed against Jerry’s ankles. He reached down to pet her.

  “Your cat is very strange looking. She is also very soft.”

  Joy came back into the kitchen. “We’re all set up, here. I guess go ahead and do what you would normally do.”

  “Our victims usually spend the night away when we investigate,” Jerry said.

  “Clients, Jerry, not victims,” Joy said. “In your case, a visitation, you’ll need to be present. Usually we set up in an unoccupied home.” It looked like she wanted to say more, to explain more, but I already had a pretty good idea why they did it that way.

  “I have a couple frozen pizzas. You want to join me?” I said.

  “Frozen pizza is far substandard. I could order pizza. I could order as many pizzas as you want. Sodas, too. Wings.”

  “What Jerry means is that we’d love to join you for dinner,” Joy interpreted. “Thank you for offering.”

  “Is that what I meant?”

  I had an early day. There was still a killer to catch, even if he was a government spook. Leaving my weird guests to watch over me, I headed to bed.

  “I would totally do that weird guy.”

  I nearly jumped out of my sweats. Grammy Epi stood in the vanity mirror. “He’s not weird.”

  “He’s actually kinda cute. And someone like that would have a lot of... focus. Besides, he likes you. Better yet, he’s not afraid of ghosts.”

  “Do me a favor. Stay out of the mirror tonight. I don’t want this house to be the ghost-in-the-mirror house. People already throw rocks at the windows on Halloween.”

  The ghost folded her arms. “You really need to get me a TV, Mary.”

  Chapter 14

  “I’m disappointed you haven’t followed up on the provenance.”

  Ugly again snuggled up to me in the sleeping bag.

  “We’re following the leads we have,” I told her. “Is it time to get up?”

  “In about ten minutes. Your strange guests took off during the night.”

  I woke up. “They what?”

  Ugly only purred at me. I got up. The cat stretched out on my duffle bag pillow and licked herself. The video camera still stood in the corner. In the hall, I saw the boxy devices remained. Electronics and laptop still occupied the kitchen. Jerry and Joy did not. I opened the front door. Only one of the SUVs remained.

  In the living room, a camera had fallen, the tripod legs splayed. Nearby, a squat microphone lay against the molding. It looked like its wires had been ripped out. The furniture was all out of place.

  I dressed for work quickly, grabbing my cell phone and a hair brush. Furiously working my brush through my hair, I dialed with the other as I headed to the car. Drusilla answered.

  “Dru, what the heck? My living room is trashed, all the ghost stuff is still here, but the ghost hunters are gone.”

  “We have to talk,” Dru said.

  “You’re dang right we do. Who the hell did you send over here?” The Cordoba still sat with the windows open. No one had stolen it. I was a little disappointed.

  “Did you see the Angle Man?”

  I switched hands so I could brush the other side of my hair. “No. I slept all night.”

  “Crap.”

  “What?”

  Dru sighed on the other end. “Your money’s gone.”

  I got in the car. “Well, I expected that.” Paying off the debt to keep Memorie’s soul intact was the most important thing to me. It was everything.

  “Have you looked into Kathleen Murphy? Do you even know where she and Memorie are living?”

  “Dru, no! I don’t want them to think I’m reneging. If they think I’m hunting them down, they might...” Might what? Punish me by hurting her? Take her soul? I shivered, and it wasn’t from the night air that seeped into the car seats.

  There was a pause on the line. “Okay. We really need to talk.”

  “I’ll call you after work.”

  I arrived in the bullpen before Shen. Reports had come in, a canvas of homeowners’ personal video surveillance along the route
between the garage sale and the parking lot. There was no sign of either the victim or the killer on anyone’s camera. A search of the homeless camp where Brock lived turned up no other records. In my mind, there was no doubt that the crate of albums he’d found were planted. We still needed to find out by whom.

  Typing on the computer, I summarized recent events, and printed out a report for the chronology. Shen walked in as I snapped the pages into the black binder. “Keeping banker’s hours?” I said.

  “Working. Hopefully it wasn’t a waste.” Shen didn’t bother taking off his jacket. “Ready to head out?”

  I thought about what Ugly kept telling me. Why I wanted to follow the hunch of a little tortie cat I couldn’t say. “What we really need is to find out how Darren Strathmore came across a copy of that album in the first place.”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Shen said. “Let’s save that for later. I’m wondering if Fish and Wildlife is in on this whole deal. If nothing else, let’s get this wild goose chase over with and work the other angle.”

  We took the Crosstown Freeway as far as it went, and then Route 4 west. Once out in the Delta proper, we saw the farmers at work, tractors everywhere, including the road. It was a long drive. To the west, the line of the Diablo Range lifted into view. The trip became longer when we took a right on a partially-paved road running between two fields. It roughly followed the banks of the Middle River, until it ended at a fence.

  Shen pulled over. We got out and took a look. The fence stood between us and a dirt levy road. The gate stood across from a rickety bridge. In the middle of the river stood a tiny island. Most of its surface was taken up by a cinder block building.

  “I guess this is why it isn’t on Google Maps,” I said.

  “You sure this is it?” Shen took in our surroundings. The end of the road was slightly elevated, and there was a pretty good view of a lot of empty space. Wind kicked up gray dust from the road.

  “It is pretty lonely out here,” I said.

  He eyed the gate, the bridge, the building. “We’re way too far out to expect backup if something goes pear-shaped.”

  “The place looks abandoned.”

  “Well, it’s the middle of miles of farmland on an island opposite an iffy-looking bridge, behind a fence. Not exactly a high-traffic area.”

  I wandered over to the no trespassing sign. Despite the rust, I could make out that this used to be a pesticide testing site, as well as the familiar Prop 65 wording, “WARNING: This facility houses chemicals known to the State of California to cause cancer and birth defects and other reproductive harm.” There was no padlock on the gate. I pushed it open, surprised that it swung soundlessly.

  Shen eyed the rickety bridge. At one time, cars might have crossed its single lane, one at a time. A lot of pieces had gone missing since then. “Let me call in our position. Just in case.”

  He walked back to the vehicle. I checked my phone. No bars.

  “Dispatch, this is One-Ida-Five for a twenty and a radio check, over,” he said into the radio mic. He waited, but received no reply. “Dispatch, this is Inspector Five, for a radio check, come back.”

  Only the low sound of the wind and the slow roll of the river drifted over the empty land. I moved my phone around in the air, but still no bars showed up.

  “Any unit, this is One-Ida-Five for a 10-20, over.” Despite not receiving an answer, he gave our location to dead air. He gave me the hairy eyeball, followed by a long, heavy flashlight. “You sure you want to proceed, Mare?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not sure. But we’re here.”

  We went down the bank to the levy road and crossed to the bridge. It stood about ten feet above the river. Large chunks of pavement had fallen away. I could see rebar jutting from the concrete. Below that, I could see the moving surface of the water. Tentatively, I took a step. The structure felt rock solid.

  Crossing without incident, we moved across a dissolving blacktop parking lot. No weeds had established themselves in the cracks. Whatever this place used to test, it appeared to still be working. The building itself bore the wood grain of the forms used to pour it. The construction seemed early-’60s-industrial, a single story but expansive. From the remaining paint flakes, it used to be blue.

  We passed a short stretch of cyclone fencing topped with razor wire. Only about ten yards of it still stood. The rest was missing. Dust turned the glass front doors opaque. From the right side, the skeleton of an angled structure, maybe a former greenhouse, stood out like ribs.

  “It doesn’t look like anyone has been here in a long time,” Shen moved toward the doors. “Oops, spoke too soon.”

  He pointed out a smear in the dust that swirled around the keyhole. The door had been unlocked, and the disturbance looked recent. There was an intercom next to the door, and I pressed the button. It made no click, no buzz, no ding. Shen bent down, retrieving a small lock pick kit from his suit coat. But as he leaned on the push bar, the door swung wide. Shen caught himself before landing on his face.

  “Dammit,” he breathed.

  “You okay?” I helped him up.

  He limped around a little. “That’s gonna hurt in the morning.”

  I couldn’t keep myself from laughing. Then, the door swung back and hit me in the back hard enough to knock me three steps. “Ow!”

  Shen brushed himself off. “Karma. Let’s get this done.”

  Empty lobby, no front desk, two doors on either side of the missing furniture. “I’ll take the left, you take the right.”

  “No way,” Shen said. “We already got our asses kicked by the front door. You literally. We stick together.”

  We took the left door. It led to a hall with labs on one side, offices on the other. Industrial carpet muffled our steps. Light came through the windows of a conference room at the very back. There was a nice river view through the years of dust. “Wild goose chase?” Shen turned around.

  After backtracking to the lobby, we took the door on the right. It was similar, but brighter, with labs on what was the former greenhouse. Shen stopped short, playing his light on the carpet. “Here we go. Footprints.”

  I had to squint to see them, even when my light joined his. “Where did they come from.”

  His beam played down the hall. “Fire exit in the back. Maybe a break room or something.” He followed the barely visible trail to an office door. “Locked.”

  “You sure? I wouldn’t mind seeing you fall down again.”

  He pounded his fist against it. “Steel core. This is a serious door.” Lock picks out again, I held the flashlights while he went to work. It took a while before the tumblers clicked and the knob turned.

  I was shocked to see a set of stairs rough cut into stone leading to a blackness unmarred by the flashlights. “No way can there be a basement here. We’re on an island in the middle of a river.”

  “We’re not that far from Vasco Caves,” Shen said.

  “That’s ten miles from here. I’ve never heard of caves in the Delta. Does that look like a cave to you?”

  “What am I, a cave-ologist?” Shen started down the steps.

  I followed. Our footfalls echoed, sounding wet. Close walls on either side wept, and the steps were slippery with something I didn’t want to think about. Musty, tingling smells filled my nose as we descended.

  Maybe it was my imagination playing tricks on me, but I swear I could hear the river murmur beyond the glistening stone walls. At the bottom, the floor turned out to be level concrete. Our lights played on sagging sheet rock, but not much else. The cave, or cellar, or whatever had been walled off. Above, old-fashioned cone-shaped metal shades shrouded big light bulbs I tried a wall switch. Nothing happened.

  We stepped through an open doorway, the lintel canted, a door long gone. A hallway ran perpendicular, with a huge door directly in front. It was covered in some kind of fabric that resembled the industrial carpet upstairs. To the right and above, a red bulb huddled behind a wire cage.

&n
bsp; “Recording studio?” Shen stared at the bulb.

  We pushed into a room, wide but not deep. A huge glass window reflected our flashlights. A desk ran the length of the window, with nothing atop it. Shen put his light and his face up to the glass. “We’re standing in the recording booth. The studio is on the other side. I can see some kind of soundproof baffles.”

  “Is this where Sonic Lobotomy was recorded?” I shivered. “This place is horrible.”

  Backing out, we started down the left hall. These were not the sterile offices and labs we uncovered above. The first room looked like it should be in a hospital, albeit a haunted one. IV stands, a bed frame barely suspending a rotting mattress, a rack for a privacy curtain, and a faded shape on the wall were all that was left, but the remains left no doubt about the former purpose. Across the hall was more of the same.

  “Could be for pesticide testing,” Shen whispered.

  The next room was much larger. Things that looked like knocked-over hotel ice machines dominated. They were black, steel riveted together. Lots of plumbing issued from each. My feet grated over something on the floor. A damaged bag of Epsom salt had been left behind. I opened one of the ice machine things. It smelled like old chlorine. Shen peered inside. “Sensory deprivation tanks?”

  “Like Gunmetal Gray said.” I headed out of the room. “Maybe he isn’t as crazy as he seems.”

  We checked out more rooms, all of them looking like hospital rooms, some with the ancient shadow of long-removed, bulky equipment. The hall ended in a door suitable for a bank vault. I hesitated. “You don’t think the river is on the other side of this, do you?”

  “I don’t know what’s in there. I’m not sure I want to know.”

  The wheel turned with a metallic groan, the latch squealing free. I swung the door outward, feeling the mass of it. Our lights found uneven walls and floor, stalactites and stalagmites, a raw cavern. Well, almost raw.

  “Lieutenant Dan isn’t going to like this at all.” Shen moved in. I picked out red and black wax on pillars of stone, dripping down. It must have taken dozens, if not a hundred, candles to produce so much dripping. It seemed every half-formed stalagmite bore the same evidence. But on the elevated floor, chipped and carved into the living rock, was the shape of a pentagram. Symbols stood in each of the outer triangles. A circle surrounded the design, hemming in glyphs that followed the graven line. I felt my heartbeat quicken, my breath coming faster.