Linda Welch - A conspiracy of Demons (29 page)

“Where are you?”

I heard keys jangle. “
Walking into the office.”

“I’m coming over there, so stay put.”

“You sound tense, Sweetheart.”

“No doubt. I’ll tell you about it when I get there.”

“Okay. In a few.”

I ended the call and tucked my pho
ne away. Margot had left twenty
dollars; to cover both our meals with a small tip, or only hers with a hefty tip? I found
a ten in my billfold and left it
on the table.

Royal looked past me as he tapped his fingers together beneath his chin. “So Rio
communicated with
you on the sly through a third party, someone he could trust.”

“
I wondered if he did
it on behalf of Gia,
but
I think if
she
wanted us to know something, she’d tell us
herself, not use a roundabout method
.
” I tugge
d my earlobe. “Margot’s
ultra—
emphatic we mustn’t tell
another person
, she said it twice, so Rio must have stressed the urgency
. Is
he
scared Gia will
discover
what he did?
”

What mad
e a man devoted to his Dark Cousin lover, who
nearly
died to keep her secret, go behind her back? What scared him so much he sent me that message?

We sat in silence for
long
minutes
. I tried to go at it from another angle, a process of elimination.
Look at the bigger picture. Dig deeper
.
Into
Lynn? Look deeper into Lynn? I h
it a dead end right there.
Bob Pride
and what he had been up to? Well, if I knew that I would not be chewing
my fingernails to the quick.
Rio’s message
added up
to
a fat lot of nothing
so far
.

Which left?

I screwed my eyes together. Broader picture. Broader picture.

An idea clicked
in my head. My eyes popped open. “Royal, what if he means the poli
tical scene. Maybe Pride isn’t - wasn’t -
the
only Gelpha politician
.”

“That may be, but
does not necessarily mean they are in cahoots with the Cousins.”

“
Maybe not, but they still shouldn’t have the power to enact laws which govern this world.”
I refused to budge on the issue. Gelpha could use their abilities to influence
the running of the country, which
wasn’t right
any way
you looked at it.
“
Dammit, Royal, the High Ho
use should at least take a
look at them.
”

He sighed.
“I will speak to the Council.”

I didn’t appreciate his reluctance. “Okay. You do that. Today?”

“Yes, Tiff, today.”

I drove Clarion’s familiar streets. As always when I had something on my mind, I hardly saw them. I suppose instinct got me home in one piece. I parked in the driveway and
hurried in
side
the house.

“Hello stranger,” Jack yodeled as I
switch
ed
off the alarm. “Are you staying long?”

“
I don’t know why you bother coming home,
” Mel added.

“
Neither do I
.”
I
went past them to the kitchen and
bent to rub Mac’s ears. “The welcome I get from you two, I wouldn’t
go to the trouble
if not for Mac.”

I brought myself upright and found Mel practically hugging my back. I moved away,
nearly
tripping over Mac in the process. “Mel, what
are
you doing?”

“Uh.” Her gaze shot to Jack,
then
back to me. “You want welcoming. I
tried
to welcome you with a welcoming hug. I can’t do it properly but
it’s the thought that counts
,” she gabbled.

I frowned. “All right, out with it. What are you up to?”

“What do you mean?
” Mel huffed.

“
You keep
- ”

“Come on, Mel, I want to show you something upstairs,” Jack hastened to say.

And they were gone.

I looked down at my boy. “If only you could talk. I bet yo
u know what’s going on
.”

Mac decided I ha
d just promised him a treat and trundled to the pantry. I opened the door and squatted to feed him four tiny
biscuits
one at a time. “That’s all you’re getting, laddie.”

A comfortable seat in the living room beckoned my tired bones. I got a diet cola from the refrigerator, a hand
ful of saltines from the pantry
and
took them with me
. Unzipping my jacket, I dropped it on the end of the couch and curled up in a nest of cushions.

Although the rest of the room felt a little chill, early afternoon sunlight blazed through the window and bathed the end of the couch. I closed my eyes and relaxed in the warmth and glow.

If more
Gelpha
than Bob Pride worked in politics, and Royal persuaded the Council to investigate,
it would be one hell of a job.

I pressed my fingers to my temples. I couldn’t
think any longer
. My
head fell back on the cushions as l
ethargy overwhelmed me
.
I had
never felt this tired, body heavy, mind in a funk
. Too much dashing around
in
the past few days. Too much twisting my brain in knots.
Drowsing in sunbeams, I began to shut down.

Whispers in my head.
Tell her about it. And look like a fool? Maybe she can help. Don’t be stupid.
Why don’t
you
tell her? You’re right, we’re idiots.

“Wha. . . ?
” My
tongue
felt
desiccated
. I worked up saliva and tried again. “What are you talking about, guys?”

But when I forced my eyelids
open
,
only
Mac and I occupied the living room.
Hm
. I swore I heard Jack and Mel yakking in here a moment ago.

I shivered. The sun had moved west
, the room
was
cool and dim.
Mac slept curled in a ball on
the throw rug. He snorted,
little legs churning
as he dreamed.

I smelled sandalwood and amber. “Royal?”

“You a
re awake.” Royal came in from the hall
and smiled when he saw me looking
dozy.

“You been here long?” I used the back of the sofa
to pull up and sat with my legs outstretched
.

“Half an hour
.
”
He lifted my legs to make room on the couch,
sat, and rested them across his thighs.

“What did they say?”

“They will investigate, but
as it is nationwide
I f
ear it will be rudimentary.
” He stroked my ankle.
“
And a
n association with Dark Cousins will not pop
up in background checks.”

“You think it’s a waste of time?” I swung my legs off him as I sat up, and leaned
on
his shoulder.

“Probably.”

I shrugged against his shoulder. “
Maybe
Rio didn’t mean politicians, but it should be checked out
.”

“It will take months, Tiff. Perhaps we will
come upon
something else in the meantime.”

Yeah, if my brain didn’t implode first.

I about beat my brain to death in the following
days
, but couldn’t
think of
anything to explain Rio’s cryptic message.
I understood why it had to be obscure;
he couldn’t talk about Dark Cousins, Gelpha and another dimension to Senora Labi
osa.

The Council
would not
get back to us with the results of their investigation till months down the road
if they checked every government department in every state
.

Highway Patrol found
Lynn’s rental car
near Cheyenne. Traces of paint and damage to the passenger side indicated it had been
in a collision
. Her killer ran her off the road. Later, he drove the car to Wyoming
. The rental agency’s GPS had been disabled.

I poured over a map of the Utah/Nevada border.
The Cousin
caught up with Lynn somewhere between Wendover and Provo in the early hours of the morning.
He rammed her car, then killed her. He could have done it right on the Interstate, or drove off on a side road. Then he continued on and buried her on the building site. He thought the concrete foundations would be a permanent resting place, where she’d never be found.

M
y finger
traced the Interstate
. The
Bonneville Salt Flats
is huge, but Lynn would stand out on that flat white surface.

If only it were that easy.

The phone jangled.

“
Terry
didn’t kill her
,” I told Brad Spacer.

Whoever killed Joy Montgomery left her apartment with nothing. There was nothing to take.
Her grandson
Terry Montgomery sold anything of value
months
ago.

Joy was a hoarder.
There is a difference between hoarding and collecting. Collectors keep their favorite things organized and often on display. Hoarders keep everything, and it becomes worse the older they get. Disorganized clutter results in blocked exits, restricted movement through the home and entire rooms unusable because they are full of trash. They save things in case they may be useful one day in the future. They realize they may never need the item, but reason that they are prepared in the unlikelihood they do.

Entering Joy’s apartment meant squeezing between shoulder-high stacks of newspapers which lined a narrow hall. Joy kept every bill, every brown paper bag, every container no matter the material. She kept clothes which had never fitted her and never would.
Joy did not throw away anything.

A frail little thing
with
birdlike bones, long, untidy gray hair and age-mottled skin, Joy stood by the small kitchen window in her filthy, cluttered
third
-floor apartment.
Sunlight tried
to penetrate dust on the window
panes without success.
Her skin looked as gray as her hair and
bag
ged
from her upper arms like empty pouches. She
watched me
as I spoke
, her pointed chin nodding either in
confirmation or encouragement.

Terry was supposed to be her caretaker, but from what I saw had
taken care of
only
himself
,
not
his grandmother.
Granted, the clutter made
housekeeping
difficult, but the
tiny place had not been cleaned for an a
ge, and neither had granny. The electricity had been turned off weeks ago
owing to
non
payment, so Joy ha
d used a washcloth and cold water
,
but
she
could not manage a bath.

Nights wer
e cold
; ice already patterned the insides of the windows. S
he would
have died this winter from hyper
thermia helped along by abuse and neglect, but someone hurried along her demise.

Born when Warren G. Harding was president, Joy saw the world change in remarkable ways. She should have died in bed, with dignity, not on the kitchen floor at the hands of an addict
who looked
for money
or valuables
to feed his habit.

“But Terry smacked her around. He fed her cereal once a day, that’s all she
had
in the past
two
weeks. And look at the
condition
of this place.”

Brad looked grim. “We found extensive bruising over sixty-percent of her body, not all of it recent.
Son of a bitch.
”

“Watch your mouth, young man,” Joy rasped. “My daughter was a fine woman born in wedlock.”

“He’s
taken
her
Social Security checks
for two years. I’m surprised she lasted this long.” I gave the old lady an apologetic smile. Talking about how her grandson used and abused her made me uncomfortable, as
if she no longer existed, when
she stood across the room
listening to every word.

“Does she know
who killed her?” Brad asked.
He didn’t know I saw the victim, he and Mike thought I received “messages” from the dead at the scene of their death.
He ha
d
worked with me
enough
that he asked the question seriously, not as if it were something totally outré. It made Brad one of my favorite police detectives.

“No, but she gave me a real good description.”
As a “psychic” consultant, my insights were not considered admissible in court, but they often led to evidence which
nailed the perp
.

I looked at the outline on the kitche
n linoleum, where Joy’s body
sprawled
before the coroner took it, and remembered the ligature mark on her neck
.
“Caucasian, in his early twenties, five-eight or thereabouts. He has short black hair and sideburns. The color looks flat, unnatural, probably dyed. Blue eyes, a small scar shaped like a crescent below the left one. He
wore
a brown hoodie, gray track pants and high-top sneakers.”

Brad wrote the description in his little notebook. He took a last look
at
the kitchen. “I think we’
re done here.”

I looked back at Joy as we walked out of the door. She fluttered the fingers of one hand.

“I don’t care how good his attorney is, the grandson is going down,” Brad said. He stopped in the communal hallway and ran one hand down his fa
ce. “This is my fifteenth year o
n the force, Tiff, and this never gets old. What do you do when you’re old and helpless and your own family turns on you?”

I preceded him down the stairs. “You got a granny, Spacer?”

“Yeah.” His hard-soled shoes
tapped
on the steps behind me. “She lives with me and Jen, has since Grandpa died. There are times she’s a pain in the ass, but she’s earned the right to be
how
she wants. The things she’s seen. You should see the kids when she talks about the past, they can’t get enough of it.”

“That’s good, Brad. Most kids nowadays don’t
want to unplug their iPods long
enough to hear anything but music
.”

“Yeah, they’re good kids.”

We
left
by the main entrance. With a wave, Spacer headed for his car.

Royal had called while I was in the apartment but I let it go to voicemail. He
watched
Mrs. Donnelly’s daughter-in-law while I helped Clarion PD. I did not object to Royal working solo on any inv
estigation which involved stake
outs.

He didn’t leave a message, so I called him back. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Gryphon called. We are wanted at the High House.”

If they had
already
fin
ished their investigation, t
hey ha
d only skimmed
the surface. I walked
in
the Council C
hamber in high dudgeon.
Why could they not see the gravity of the situation, the threat posed by Gelp
ha and Cousins in cahoots and
Gelpha in my government?

To see the High Lord, his father and the councilors in formal wear took me aback. And their expressions were mighty serious. Instead of the usual setup where the advisors sat at a table facing the High Lord’s Seat, curved tables formed a circle in front of the dais. Lawrence and Gryphon were down there with the councilors and two empty chairs waited for me and Royal.

Royal bowed.
We went to our chairs and sat.
I
began to
hate this room with its baroque decor, the extravagant chandelier, gold fixtures and chocolate walls which seemed to ripple when I moved my head. Nothing good ever came from being here.

Wearing
a floor-length, deep—
green velvet outer robe over blue silk tunic and hose,
Gryphon
place
d
his hand on Lawrence’s shoulder. “With my Lord’s permissi
on, I will chair this meeting.”

He sat in his
seat
next to Lawrence.
“The investigation of our people who hold positions in
the
other world’
s
governing bodies - ”

“Done already?” My voice came out
dry, cynical
. “My, you guys work fast considering there’s . . . how many?
H
ow many Gelpha are
messing with my government
?
”

Eyes snapping to my face, a
councilor with
sh
oulder-length
,
honey—
colored hair and amber eyes
stated, “You have never come to terms with the
fact
Bel-Athaer is your world and you are one of us, eh, Hecate?”

My lip curled.
“Never have, never will.”
I realized how churlish I sounded
and didn’t care
. “
What do you expect? Everyone who knew the truth conspired to keep it from me,
from
the first time I came here
.
I stood in this chamber less than a year ago and asked about Cicero and not one of you said he’s my uncle.
I had to find out for myself, and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.
”

Gryphon ra
pped his knuckles on the table and
glared at the councilor. “
This
is
not a discussion of Miss Bank’s
sentiments
.
Let’s move along.”

He passed four photos
to Royal
.
“As you can imagine, an investigation of every Gelpha who works in the field of politics in the other plane would be extensive and time-consuming. However, we began at the top and results were both immediate and
shocking
. These were taken at the United States House of Representatives in Washington DC.”

In the f
irst
photo
,
two men faced each other in a doorway. Artificial light shone on the head of a young, fair-haired man while
shadow made the other guy indistinct. He had short, dark hair,
but
his features were fuzzy.
The next picture was of a black Limo parked at the curb, a lot of traffic in the background. A man sat in the backseat with the window rolled down as a brown-headed guy leaned with his elbow on the window frame. I couldn’t decipher the passenger’s features, he sat
back away from the window
in
the
car’s darker interior
.

I saw a pattern emerging.

In the third picture, a young woman with upswept red hair faced an open door in a wide, wood-paneled corridor. I saw a gesturing hand and a man’s face in profile, just the line of his brow and nose and the suggestion of a chin, but not enough by which to identify him. The fourth photo was of two men entering a door, taken from the rear. Both wore dark suits and one a gray fedora tilted down over his face.

I lifted my eyes to meet Gryphon’s. I knew . . . I
knew
what he had to say.

“The men and woman you see are three representatives and a senator. All are Gelpha.” Gryphon’s eyes shimmered as if they watered from pain. “The man who
is
in every picture is a Cousin
.”