Grave Alchemy Page 9

  Basil gave me a quizzical look, but touched the globe anyway. It changed from blue to purple this time. “Cool, this is great. If there were more, we could sell them. We’d make a fortune.”

  “That would be stealing. Besides, I don’t think this is a lamp, it doesn’t have a cord.”

  “Ever hear of batteries?” Basil reached for one of the empty lava lamps and turned it over. “So much for that. There’s no opening in the base.” He put it back and picked up the globe again.

  “Put it back, it’s turning red. I don’t think it likes you. Let me try.”

  I picked up the globe again, I could feel the pulsing as it vibrated through my fingers. It was almost as if it was alive and trying to push its way out of the globe. Basil headed to the desk at the far end of the room, its surface buried in a litter of papers, books, broken beakers, test tubes and empty globes.

  “Hey, they forgot this,” Basil said as he opened a drawer and removed a crumbling tome. The binding was torn, and the pages were yellow with age. “This manuscript is really old.”

  I placed the globe back on the shelf and moved toward the desk. I struggled to move forward barely able to raise my feet, it felt like I was wearing lead shoes. Something was preventing me from reaching the manuscript and when I turned and moved back toward the globe, the heaviness disappeared.

  “Basil, I think this globe is trying to stop me going near the desk.” Basil held up the open manuscript, and I squinted at it. “What language is that? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It’s Aramaic.”

  “Can you read it?”

  “Yeah,” Basil stated, leafing through the pages.

  The pulsing of the globe increased in frequency as I ran my finger over it; I wondered if it could be alive. I cradled the globe, and it stilled as I concentrated on feeling the vibrations.

  “I think this globe might contain a trapped soul. Why was it trying to keep me away from the desk?” I had a horrific thought, “What if all the globes I saw contained souls?”

  Basil swung around, clutching the manuscript to his chest. “That would make sense. This was an Alchemy text, Transmutation of Souls, but most of it’s missing.”

  “I don’t know what that means, but it sounds ominous. Are there any more books like that?”

  “Just a lot of loose pages. This stuff shouldn’t be left lying around, it’s dangerous. If the wrong people got a hold of this…we can’t leave them here—grab a bag and we’ll take everything.”

  It was bad enough that we’d broken into the house, but I wasn’t about to add theft to our list of crimes. “No, you can’t go around stealing. But we can’t just leave them here, especially the globe. If there’s a soul in it, it has to be sent on its way. We should call the SIB, let them figure out what to do with it.”

  “Give it to a bunch of cops, I don’t think so. Can’t you break the globe open and suck it up yourself?”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea. If it’s a soul, and it escaped, we might end up dealing with a wraith. And I’m not positive that it really is a soul, it could be something else, and really dangerous. I guess I can call Uncle Iggy, he’ll know what to do.”

  “This manuscript has to be destroyed,” Basil said, tapping the tome.

  “You can’t destroy a book, no matter what it contains. Phineaus must have been using it for some kind of experiment. Who knows what he was planning to do?”

  “Well, he’s dead and I’m not gonna leave it here. This book will probably explain what he was up to. Call Iggy,” Basil replied, he pulled out his phone and began taking pictures.

  I placed the call and while we waited for Uncle Iggy to arrive, we checked out the books in the bedroom. They were mostly novels, with a few medieval manuscripts thrown in, but I didn’t find anything that related to souls. I left Basil inspecting the bookcase door and wandered through the bedrooms. I poked into drawers and closets; I was just being nosey and didn’t expect to find any more globes. Basil had given up on Phineaus’ bedroom by the time a contingent of SIB operatives led by Uncle Iggy appeared. Uncle Iggy interrogated us while the others took charge of the manuscript papers and globe. He listened in silence as I explained how I had found the now-empty hidden room. His eyes widened as I explained that it had been full of globes and lava lamps. And how the remaining globe had reacted to our touch. I edged closer to Basil as Uncle Iggy exploded with rage, he had a tendency to over react. He was upset because I hadn’t informed him of the hidden room straight away. The fact that we had been distracted by the police served to mollify him, a little. When he calmed down, we were subjected to a lecture about breaking into houses and that we should leave the detective work to the professionals. My argument—that no one else would have found the room—fell on deaf ears, as usual. His only concerns were that he should have been informed earlier, and that we might have been arrested for breaking into Phineaus’ house. To me, ‘might’ was the operative word. He ushered us out of the house after extracting a promise not to reveal what we had found. The threatened storm finally arrived and released a deluge of rain just as we exited the door.

  “Let’s go home, dry off and get lunch,” Basil suggested as he flicked the heater on high.

  A few hours later, Basil and I headed downtown to Felix’s waterfront condo. We parked in an alley, a block away from the condo. The alley appeared deserted, but I scanned it anyway. The last thing we needed was for a passerby to witness my disappearing act. Basil had shifted into a pigeon before we left the house, and he flew off to check out Felix’s balcony. The condo building turned out to be a steel-framed glass monstrosity, whose only redeeming feature was its position on the lake. I had assumed that it would be an older building, the kind with easily picked locks. My frustration mounted when I peered through the doors and saw not only an access control system, but a concierge and security guard as well. Too bad I didn’t have the compelling power of a vampire, or I could just walk up and make them let me in. I could try calling random residents, hoping that they’d open the door. But I decided against it, since nobody fell for that trick anymore. I sighed and glanced around the vestibule looking for the backup key entry—there had to be one somewhere. A small black box positioned next to the frame of the outer door caught my eye. I pulled it open and found the lock mechanism. After a few moments of fiddling, the inner door clicked, the sight of a door opening and closing by itself drew the attention of both the concierge and the guard. They exchanged confused glances as I passed by and called for the elevator. I resisted the temptation to go, ‘Boo,’ although it would have been funny.

  Basil strode toward me munching on a slice of pizza as I entered Felix’s unit. “What took you so long? Did you get lost? It was windy out there, good thing they left a window open.”

  “Lucky you. What are you eating—cold pizza?

  “I nuked it. Want some?”

  “Not a chance. Find anything yet?”

  “Just the leftover pizza and empty beer cans.”

  The large bright condo was nearly empty, dents in the carpet and the stale odor of pizza and beer were the only evidence of recent occupation. I glanced into the kitchen where discarded cans and delivery boxes littered the counters. The bedroom was as barren as the rest of the suite, so it surprised me when I opened the closet and found a makeshift office. A well-used corkboard hung on the wall behind a large desk. The floor was littered with paperclips, tacks and random dust bunnies. Someone had cleaned out the place. I searched the drawers then turned them over, hoping I might find a clue taped to the bottom.

  “This place looks like it was cleared out in a hurry,” Basil called from the bathroom. “The only thing left in here is a bar of soap.”

  “I think you’re right. I found an office, but it’s been cleaned out as well.” I turned and kicked at the closet door, nearly knocking Basil off his feet. “Oops. Sorry about that. Will you help me move this desk?”

  Basil shoved me out of the way and grabbed a corner of the desk. A f
ew papers fell to the ground as he swung it away from the wall. They were black and white pictures, printed from a computer. One of them was a grainy picture of Natasha while the other looked like a surveillance photo. Three people were chatting on the Bay Street Pier, and a red circle highlighted someone of interest in the group. Felix must have been following someone and recognized Natasha. I had no idea who the other people were because the red circle obscured their faces. One was a small, thin man, and the other was a woman with long hair. Why had Felix taken these photos? Was he doing surveillance? I couldn’t come up with any logical explanation.

  Basil snatched the pictures from my hand and crowed with glee. “I knew it, I bet she cleaned out this place. She thinks she’s safe cause she got rid of the evidence. That’s why she’s all nicey nicey. We got her now.”

  “It proves nothing. Why would Felix have a picture of her? She just moved here, there’s no way she’d be a threat to him.”

  “I bet she’s a double agent, reaper and rogue. Felix found out, and she killed him.”

  “But Felix was a rogue. Why would he care what Natasha was doing? And why would she kill him?”

  “For the money; souls go for a fortune.”

  “Come to think of it, how did she afford to buy the Hayward place? That house was renovated a few years ago, and it sits on 20 acres. It must've cost a few million dollars.”

  “There’s no way Nasty made that much from selling her house in Oregon. Right?”

  I nodded in agreement. “Basil, I think it’s time we looked into Natasha’s background. I’m having a hard time picturing Natasha as a stone-cold killer. She’s mean, spiteful and petty. But a killer? I’m not so sure about that.”

  “Are you sure you checked everywhere?” Basil asked as he looked around.

  “Like where?” I asked as Basil ran his hands around the edge of the desk. He dragged the desk to the center of the closet, shoving me out of the way.

  “Like here!” Basil snickered as he reached over and pulled up a tablet with a sticky note attached to the front. He powered it on, but couldn’t get passed the password screen.

  “You were just lucky.”

  “Luck has nothin’ to do with it.” Basil grinned as he held up the note.

  “What does it say?”

  “T. Flinders and a question mark.”

  “Who the heck is T. Flinders?”

  “How would I know? Look him up on your phone.”

  The search turned up one result. “Why would Felix need a private investigator?”

  “Checking up on someone—probably Natasha. What’s the address?”

  “101 Bay St., Suite 2F.”

  “We can swing by there now, it’s just around the corner. I’ll do the grilling, you follow my lead.”

  “How are you going to do that? You think he’ll answer questions from a parrot?”

  Basil’s wings and shoulders drooped. “Maybe not, and it’s a Macaw, not a parrot. Guess it’ll have to be you. Just don’t screw it up.”

  “Parrot or Macaw, same difference. Why can’t you be a hamster or a mouse? You could hide in my bag.”

  Basil glared at me. “Read my lips, I…don’t…do…rodents.”

  Getting out of the condo building proved easier than getting in, the two men were laughing and pointing at something on a screen. As I walked past the reception desk, the guard rose and glanced toward the elevator. I decided to let the doors slam as I left, just to see their expressions. I wasn’t disappointed: both men jumped up and spun around, looking for the ghost that wasn’t there.

  Chapter 11

  Basil met me at the car and we drove around the corner to the PI’s office. It was located in one of the town’s original buildings, in what used to be a bank. A directory in the lobby listed all the occupying businesses, including Mr. T. Flinders, Esq., Discrete Investigations.

  We walked up to the second floor and noticed that the offices were all marked with 1’s.

  “Shouldn’t 2F be on the second floor?” Basil whispered in my ear.

  “I would have thought so,” I replied as we headed for the third floor, “it’s probably a British thing.”

  Whoever designed the layout of the offices must have been a maze enthusiast. It took us a few tries, but we finally found Flinders’ office at the back of the building. We entered what appeared to be a large windowless closet. The filing cabinets lining the wall were stuffed full, their drawers half open, with the overflowing files spilled onto the floor. It was like walking into a hoarder’s paradise, without the smell. A small balding man wearing a red beret peered between the stacks of paperwork piled on the desk. His narrow face, pointy nose and chin made his head look like someone had squashed it in a vice. When he rose to greet us, I noticed that he was no taller standing than he was sitting down.

  “Hello,” he said as he picked up a handful of files from the guest chair. “I don’t get many walk-ins. Please have a seat. I’m Tom Flinders. Is that a parrot?”

  “He’s a Macaw. Nice to meet you,” I replied, taking a seat in the offered chair.

  “What can I do for you today? Has he lost his mate? I don’t do lost pets.”

  “No no, nothing like that. He belonged to my brother, Benjamin Dover. I found your name in his condo.”

  Flinders looked down at his desk, frowning as he lined up his pencils. “You must be mistaken. I don’t have any clients by that name.”

  “It was definitely your name.” If Felix hadn’t hired him, then maybe someone else had. “Were you following him?”

  “My clients rely on my discretion. I never discuss my cases with anyone, aside from the client. I can’t divulge any details.”

  “I was just wondering if there’s anything you could tell me? I’m trying to figure out what happened to him.”

  He squinted at me furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

  “He was murdered. I want his killer brought to justice, but I need to know who and why. Any information you can give me would help. Like where he went, who he met with. I’ll hire you, I need to know.” On cue, Basil nipped my ear, causing me to wince and produce a few tears. I searched my bag for a tissue and my wallet. I placed a generous fee on his desk while dabbing my eyes.

  Flinders paled, the color suddenly leeching from his face. “Murdered? Oh dear, how awful for you. But I can assure you that it had nothing to do with my investigation. It was just a background check.”

  “Background check? Why would someone want you to do that?”

  “Most businesses do background checks on their employees. They don’t have the time or the skill to handle it, so they hire me.”

  “I’m confused. He didn’t need a job. Who hired him?”

  “Since it’s public knowledge, I guess it’s okay to tell you. Santoro Industries. I have a long term contract with them, I do all their investigative work. It was a waste of time though, following him didn’t turn up anything interesting.”

  “If it was just a background check, then why did you follow him?”

  “That’s confidential. All I can say is that on occasion, more in-depth inquiries are required.”

  “Can you at least tell me what you saw? Where he went and who he hung out with? That isn’t confidential, is it?”

  “I don’t have a problem with that. Aside from home and work, he spent a lot of time drinking. He was at the FlipSide most nights, and he always met up with the same bunch of guys.”

  “Do you know who they were?”

  “Names weren’t needed, just pictures.” Flinders’ gaze wandered toward the door as he fidgeted in his chair.

  “Was there something else?” I asked—he looked like something was bothering him.

  “It’s probably just a coincidence and not related to your brother at all. I can’t tell you the details, but a few days later, a gentleman hired me to follow Miss Santoro.”

  “Who was it?”

  Flinders sighed and shook his head. “I can’t tell you that.�
��

  “Can you at least give me the pictures of the guys Ben met with?”

  Flinders hesitated and looked toward the door again. “Um…”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, lips quivering. “Please Mr. Flinders. I’m grasping at straws here.”

  “You think one of them killed your brother?”

  I pulled out a few more bills and pushed them toward Flinders. “I don’t know. Please.”

  Flinders looked down at the pile of cash and licked his lips. “Give me your email address and I’ll send them to you.”

  “You’ve been very helpful. Thank you,” I said as I rose to shake his hand.

  “My pleasure. If there’s anything else I can do, you know where to find me.”

  “You did an okay job. For an amateur,” Basil said once we were back in the car.

  “Thanks, I think. Why would Felix be working for Santoro? And why did Flinders tell us about following Miss Santoro? It must relate to Felix, but I have no idea how.”

  “Makes sense, it has to be,” Basil agreed.

  “I wonder who the guy was that had her followed? We have to find out, it might answer a lot of questions.”

  Basil seemed to read my mind when he asked, “Up for a burglary tonight? I’ll be the cat.”

  “We’ll come back tonight when the office is closed. Do you think the building has a cleaning crew?” I asked, ignoring Basil’s attempt at humor.

  “I don’t think so, this place doesn’t look like anyone's cleaned it in years. I’m getting hungry. Let’s go home and raid the fridge. Then we’ll dig up some dirt on Santoro Industries.” If I'd known that gargoyles ate their weight in food every day, I would have left Basil in Oregon.

  I was admiring my purple highlights when the sound of an off-key version of ‘What a Feeling’ shattered the silence of the evening. Annie was a free spirit with a total lack of inhibition, enthusiastically throwing herself into whatever caught her fancy. Her visitor appeared to share her lack of musical talent. I peeked around the door and was greeted by the sight of Natasha and Annie bouncing around the salon, using brushes for microphones. They sounded like cats fighting—it was hilarious, and I couldn’t help but snicker.