MAY 19, 1986
It has been almost a month since Janet and I had taken our trip to Themyscira. Needless to says Janet did not die and the island did not explode. We never disgusted what happened after she sent me home. For that matter we didn’t really talk about much after that adventure. It was fine with me, I no longer trusted her. But she had me over a barrel so to say, if I revealed who she really was and what she had done, she could do the same to me. So I kept my mouth shut and so did she. As far as work went we were lucky that Commander Olpere still had no desire to see Janet and me working together again so that was not a problem for either of us.
It was Monday morning and Commander Olpere called Ed Bower and me into her office first thing. We hadn’t worked a case together so I was very curious what she had for us. Ed hadn’t really done any work on the street, he had mainly stuck to research. He was really good at identifying Zeni-humans or so I had been told by the others on the squad. I kinda got the feeling he was feeling like the odd man out. We all knew Mark was a Zeni-human, I got the feeling he was suspicious of me and Janet. His talk about thinking might be a Zeni-human had tapered off in the past few months.
“Good morning gentlemen,” she said to us as we sat down in front of her desk. “How would you gentleman like to take a road trip to Beantown?” “Don’t answer that is where the two of you are going.”
Ed and I looked at each other as if to say, “What?”
“Boston PD is setting up a new Zeni-human unit and they have requested my best officer to oversee the creation of the team,” Olpere told us. “Here’s your plane tickets,” she said tossing them across the desk at us. “I’ve also booked you a one week stay at a Hotel near the airport.” “You both should head home and get packed, your plane leaves a 1 pm,” Olpere told us.
I headed home to throw some clothes in a suitcase. I figured I should lock up my gauntlets, there was no way I was going to get them on a plane. It was the first time in months that I haven’t worn them to work. Only Paddy and Janet knew I had them so it was probably for the best that I didn’t have them on a trip with Ed.
I had changed out of my suit to dress down in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt for the plane ride. I called a cab and was on my way to the airport by eleven. As I rode in the cab the sky began to grow darker. I had listened to the weather forecast before I left for the precinct this morning like I always do and there had been no call for rain today. The closer I got to the airport, the more ominous the sky looked.
After I checked my two bags, Ed and I were meeting at the Runway Longue, a little luncheonette at that overlooked the loading area of the planes. You could watch the baggage handlers load the luggage on the planes. Not many of the people there were eating most of them were just watching to see if their luggage was being mistreated. It was around noon and Ed still hadn’t shown up so I ordered a sandwich.
I was not destined to eat the sandwich though because before I got it there was a cloud burst like nothing I had ever seen before or since. Hail the size of baseballs came raining down on the tarmac. It was like thunder on the roof of the airport as they hit. People watching out the windows gasped as they watched the ice hit the planes and men working outside. I took one look out the window and knew I had to do something to help those men being hit by the large ice balls. But what could I do? I couldn’t just run out there in plain view of the many large windows.
I glanced over at the gift shop across the midway. It was stocked with all kinds of clothing for travelers to different climates. I rushed over to the shop to buy a red and blue ski mask with the white letters “USA” on it. I also grabbed a long, hooded, blue, raincoat. Both articles of clothing were way out of place in Philadelphia on a May afternoon but they would do good to hide my identity as I ran to get out onto the tarmac. Something I found not so easy to do. Slipping into an authorized personnel door by breaking the doorknob felt almost criminal. Pulling on the hat and coat I snuck through the maintenance hallways to a loading dock. I stood at a custodial entrance looking out over the devastation the hail storm was causing. I need something to shield myself I knew those ice bombs would leave bruises on my that would be hard to explain for the next couple of hours.
There was a large dumpster just outside the door under a roof overhang. I leaped down on top of it to tear off one of the metal lid flaps. I moved quickly to bent the sheet of metal around my back and over my head so that the handles hooked under my armpits to hold it one. Then I leaped as far as i could out onto the tarmac. I landed about two hundred feet out in the middle of the storm ravaged scene. It took me a few seconds to adjust my balance to the pelting of the hailstones. Then I was on the move. I ran across the blacktop to a man knocked unconscious by the hail. His head was bleeding but it didn’t look to serious as I scooped him up. I held him close to my chest under my shielding as I leaped back across the lot to a door where people had gathered. “Call for the Paramedics!” I told them as I handed the man off to them. It was a rush to know I might have just saved that man’s life, but there was more to do.
I ran back out into the storm, there were more people trying to shelter themselves from the freak hail storm. I was glad that I had worn hard soled boots because at the speed I was running they allowed me to crush the hailstones underfoot rather than avoid them. NOt far from my first rescue one of the luggage tramcars had slid sideways and rolled over on its driver. As I arrived at the scene I could see that his leg was pinned and bleeding. He was conscious but going into shock. I undid the belt of his overalls and pulled it off. Tightening the belt around his leg as a tourniquet, it was only then that I lifted the tramcar off his leg. The look of his face was priceless as I lifted the tons of machinery and luggage with one hand while freeing him with the other. “Stay close,” I said putting my arm around him before leaping back to the door where the Paramedics had arrived.
“Who are you man?” one of them said as I handed off the second injured man.
“Just someone who wants to help,” I said before returning to the storm. I could hear a strange siren noise from somewhere down the runway, so I headed toward it hoping there was something else I could do to help. Down toward the end of the building was a fuel filling station. The siren was that of a fuel spill. The storm had come in so fast and unexpected that so many workers were still going about their jobs when the first hailstones fell. Even though the humidity was high the area around the fuel station was pretty dry, except for the jet fuel that was spilling out on the black top from a broken pipeline. From the look of the scene several men had rushed to turn off the valve only to be injured or knocked out by the baseball sized hail.
“Yo, turtle man!” one of the men standing safely in a nearby hangar called out to me. “It’s that valve there, turn it off!” he shouted pointing.
I could see the valve he was pointing at but there was a river of jet fuel between it and where I stood. There was also a smaller plane that had been being refuelled went the crisis struck. Another leap up over the plane and across the spilled fuel took me to the pipe shut off. I cracked the large wheel as quickly as I could ending the flow of fuel but leaving behind the large spill on many barrels of fuel.
Then the unimaginable happened. Out of the dark stormy sky a lightning bolt struck down to the ground igniting the fuel spill. It spread quickly toward the plane and the hanger. The severed filling hose still dangled from the plane in the puddle on the ground. “Run! Run!” the men from the hanger shouted at me. I did run but not away. I ran toward the plane at full speed leaping headlong into the air. As I sailed through the air I released the dumpster lid from under my arms and slide it to my shoulder. I hit the plane broadside hoping my momentum and the force of the collision would be enough move it. My hope was fulfilled as the plane began to slide toward the runway as I hit it. The flames were still trailed after us along the path laid out by the fuel leaking hose. I had to move fast to fight against the centrifugal force to crawl around the plane’s fuselage to tear the hose loose from its mount. The plane continues across the tarmac as I dropped the hose to the ground ending the trail of fire. I could hear the men cheering as the hail storm began to stop and be replaced by rain.
It was a cloud burst of a thunderstorm that followed the hail giving me the cover I needed to ditch my coat and hat in the dumpster and sneak back to the terminal. The fire had already been doused by the rain by the time I returned to the Runway Lounge. There was a lot of chatter as all of the people crowded around the windows trying to catch another glimpse of the Turtleman of the Airport, which is what the incident would become known as afterward. Ed had also arrived to watch the show.
“Where the hell have you been?” Ed shouted at me as I walked up to sit down in a chair along the wall. “You missed the whole thing!” “Some guy dressed like a Turtle just wave two workers and a plane from blowing up out there on the runway!”
“Turtleman?” I said. “What a ridiculous name for a Superhero!”
“Super hero, do you really think so?” Ed said. “He was definitely a Zeni-human, but how do we know he didn’t cause the storm too?”
“How or why would he cause the storm?” I asked the eager cop.
“I don’t know, but I need to find a payphone to call this in!” Ed said taking off across the terminal.
Thankfully, the Turtleman of the Airport would remain an unsolved mystery thanks to Paddy being the one who answered Ed’s call. My old partner had put together immediately what had happened at the Airport that afternoon and made sure there was no evidence found to the case while Ed and I were in Boston.
When Ed returned from his phone call he sat down next to me. “Why are your pant legs wet?” he asked.
“It’s raining,” I replied, trying to make it seem unimportant. I was thankful that he didn’t question it any farther,
Needless to say, our plane was delayed almost five hours. We didn’t get to Boston until after eight o’clock that night and found that our hotel rooms had been given away because of overbooking of a Plastic surgeon convention. Our cab driver, a guy named David Rodney suggested he knew a place that might have room for us. “It’s a great little bed and breakfast on the historical side of town,” he told us. “Tell you what if they don’t have a room for yas, yas don’t have to pay the fair.” How could we go wrong with that offer. Our expense account was nearly nonexistent as it was.
We got to the Enchanted Suite, Bed and Breakfast about nine o’clock. It was a creepy old Victorian house in the dark. But once we got inside it was much more welcoming. “Hello,” I said to the middle aged woman at the front desk that was set up in what used to be an entry hall. “My friend and I need two rooms.” “I hope you can help, everything else in town seems to be booked up.”
“Yes, of course I can,” the woman replied with a smile. “Mother, are those rooms you reserved ready?” the woman called out to an older woman entering the hall from the front parlor. The Mother carries a large book in her left hand and with her right she leads a very old man dressed in a robe by the arm toward the stairs.
“Yes, yes, Dharma, the rooms are all ready for them,” the older woman answered.
“Excuse me but we didn’t reserve any rooms here,” Ed interrupted.
“Oh of course you did, sir,” the woman at the desk told us. “Every room is reserved for the right guest.” “Darla?” Dharma called out.
I was drawn to five large paperweights that held down several stacks of brochures on the top of the four foot high reception desk. They looked to be made of glass about the size of baseballs. When I picked one up I was surprised at its weight. Their surface was bumpy yet smooth to the touch.
“Those are Desert glass, created when lightning strikes sand,” Dharma told me.
“Isn’t that rare?” I asked. “To have five of them all the same size like this is amazing,” I said placing the paperweight back on the brochures.
“Where is that girl, Darla,” she called again as a pretty young girl around my age appeared from the door behind the desk. “There you are could you show these gentlemen to rooms six and seven.”
“Yes Mother,” the girl replied taking the keys a sad look in her eyes when she looked at me. Oddly when she looked at Ed her eyes seemed to sparkle almost instantly.
I have to admit I was intrigued by these three generations of women running this Bed and Breakfast. Darla led us to our rooms that were next to each other and shared a Jack and Jill bathroom. It had been a long day and my shoulder was aching, I hadn’t planned on body checking a plane today.
“I’m going to grab a hot shower, if that is okay?” I said to Ed.
“Sure fine,” he replied, “I just want to figure out what I’m going to say tomorrow.”
After my shower I was feeling better but not really tired at all. I headed down stairs to look around the old, spooky house. There was something very strange about this place. My senses seemed to be on edge, but not in the way they usually where. My danger sense seemed to be working in reverse as I walked down the dimly lit upstairs hall of the house. I felt incredibly calm and relaxed in this house as if nothing bad could happen as long as I remained inside this house.
It was close to midnight when I found the oldest of the women Drussia setting the dining room table for tea. “Good evening, young man,” Drusilla said. “Care for a cup of tea?”
“I don’t really think I should, I’ve been having some trouble sleeping,” I told my elderly hostess.
“Nonsense, this is a special brew I made myself,” Drusilla replied. “It is very relaxing, just what you need in these new surroundings.” I sat down at the old oak dining table across from the tea lady as she poured.
“I must admit I am intrigued by this house and you ladies,” I told her taking the cup and saucer from her. “How long have you been here?”
“Oh, lets see, my husband Davis Harrison and I moved here to Boston to buy this place about fifty years ago now,” Drusilla answered sipping her tea. “It is amazing how much things can change in a city if you live long enough.”
I took a smell of the tea, it smelled wonderful and tasted even better. “So you run it now with your daughter and granddaughter?” I asked not expecting the answer I got.
“Mostly my daughter, Dharma, that child Darla is such a free spirit almost as much as I had been at her age.” Drusilla said placing her tea cup back on the saucer. “What she needs is a good strong man to settle her down, make her a mother.” I felt a little uncomfortable at the direction the conversation was taking but didn’t comment. “She can’t seem to settle on one boy this time.” “It is making her Mother crazy and I fear she will pick the wrong one.”
“This time?” I quizzed.
“Oh, at my age, sometimes the words just don’t come out right,” Drusilla replies. “I meant at a time.” “Speaking of family do you have any?”
“Yes, my mother, father and sister live not far from Philadelphia where I work,” I told her taking another drink of the delicious tea. “I don’t think I’ve ever had tea that tasted this good before, what kind is it?” I asked finishing the cup.
“It’s an old family recipe,” the old woman told me. “These days not many families have tradition or stay together.” “Are you parents still married?”
“My parents are eternal soul-mate, they have always been together,” I said, revealing a little more than I usually would.
“Eternal soul-mates, huh,” Drusilla repeated.
“It is just a phrase my mother uses, it is almost a family joke,” I said trying to cover my odd slip up. “I can only hope to one day be as happy as they are.”
“So you would like to have a family of your own then?” Drusilla pries.
“Yes I would if I can find my soulmate, I will settle for nothing less,” I said bringing a look of disappointment to the older woman’s face.
Then she smiled crookedly at me again, “That is a lovely sentiment.” “But you don’t really believe in this soulmate thing do you?” she asked.
“It is hard not to in my family, but I question it still sometimes,” I told her. “I have met some incredible women in my short life, but none of them seem to be the ‘one’.”
“You never know when that ‘one’ will appear, just ask my grand-daughter,” Drusilla grinned.
I felt as though she was trying to pawn off her Granddaughter on me and I found myself becoming defensive as I said, “Your Granddaughter seems like a lovely and attractive girl but I am really not interested in settling down now, with this new job.”
Again I could see the disappointment in Drusilla and again she seemed to push it aside to ask, “What do you do for a living back in Philadelphia?”
“I’m a cop, a detective,” I said trying to describe what I do even though the title detective had never been given to me.
“That is a very dangerous field to be in,” she commented. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want to have a family now.”
“I haven’t come across anything I couldn’t handle yet,” I told her feeling like I was talking to my own Grandmother trying to calm her fears.
“I’ll bet you are very talented at what you do, do you have any special talents?” she quizzed.
Now I knew this conversation was taking a turn that I didn’t like. “Well, I have an early day tomorrow I should be heading to bed,” I said standing up from the table.
“No, please have another cup of tea with me,” she urged pouring more tea into my cup.
“Thank you for the tea but I really should get to bed,” I told her as I left the dining room. As I headed back up the stairs to my room, I had the strange feeling I had just been interrogated. Passive interrogation is a method we use in police work on a suspect we don’t’ want to know is suspect. My stomach felt a little queasy too, as if I had eaten or drank something that didn’t agree with me. It was a ridiculous thought to think that sweet old lady had tried to poison me.
][MAY 20, 1986
I was up early the first morning we were in Boston. I went downstairs to find our cab driver from the night before standing in the front hall. “David, what are you doing here?” I asked him.
He seemed surprised to see me as said, “I figured you guys would need a cab to get around today.”
“That would be great, but Ed is still getting his shit together,” I told him.
“No problem, I can wait in the cab,” David said appearing eager to get out of the house.
I wandered into the front parlor taking a seat in a high back-chair to wait for Ed to come down from upstairs. “Morning,” I said to the old man who sat alone in the room before I entered. I had seen the old man before when we checked in yesterday. I couldn’t imagine how old the man must be. He was dressed in a floor length orange and brown robe. It looked much too regal to be a housecoat but I could see his bare legs and feet showing at the bottom as he sat drifting in and out of sleep.
Turning my attention to the reason Ed and I were in Boston I flipped through the notes I had made about being on the Elite squad.
“I’m 246 years old,” the old man said out of the blue.
“Oh really, that’s an incredible age to be,” I said humoring the old man as I looked up from my notebook.
“Look at what a mess I am,” the old man says. When our eyes met there is a glimmer in the old man like he suddenly recognizes me. “Now you, you will look great when you get to be my age.” My attention was captured by the old man’s statement. “You won’t even have a grey hair in that beard of yours when you finally commit to it for real.” I smiled at the obviously senile old man, there is no way he could know that. “Remember that time we went up against that Welois, demonologist?” the old man asks.
“Welois?” I repeated humoring the old man again. “That is a strange name.”
“Ya, but those demonologist know how to stay young,” the old man said. “I spent my whole two lives avoiding demons, if I had just stumbled once I could still look young.” The old man dozes off again for a few minutes as I returned to my notes. “Now that Diana she was a hot piece of ass!”
“Excuse me?” I said at the mention of the name Diana.
“Oh Uncle Baiz,” Drusilla interrupts coming into the room. “Have you been telling stories again?” “I have to apologize for my Uncle he is very old, tells stories that are all in his mind.” “Come along Uncle.” Drusilla directed. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”
“You know I’m not your Uncle, witch,” the old man argues as she helped him to stand.
“But he just said a name that was familiar to me,” I told the Bed and Breakfast’s owner as she took the old man from the room.
“I sure wish you would have had a go at the girl, she would have never come back to you,” the old man says as he is lead from the parlor.
“Now, now Uncle that is enough,” Drusilla tells the Shaman squeezing his arm tightly.
I didn’t give the old man’s word much thought after that but it is funny looking back on it now that I know who he was and what he was talking about. But I still have no idea what he was doing there at 246 years old. From where I sit writing this that is two hundred years away. Next time I cross paths with Drusilla, Dharma, and Darla I will be sure to ask.
As we rode in the cab to the Boston first precinct Ed commented, “Those three can sure put together a good breakfast spread.” “You should have eaten more.”
I didn’t want to alarm Ed that I was leary of the food and drink that the ladies of the Bed and Breakfast served. THere was something strange about that house. My danger sense was somehow muffled in that house too. The moment we left, I felt as though a blindfold had been removed. My mother had warned me that my danger sense could be muffled by magic. “I wasn’t really that hungry, figure I’ll just have a big lunch,” I told Ed.
When David dropped us off at the first precinct he seemed nervous. Ed tipped him well hoping to gain his favor for the rest of our stay. Once inside the offices we learned that as thin as our Elite Squad budget back in Philly was the Boston organization was even more strapped. The Special Crimes Unit’s office was the size of a closet. There were only two detectives, Jefferson Steele and William Clock. Ed had studied all of the rule books using what appeared to be a photographic memory. I had read those books twice and not retained as much as Ed had on his first read.
Neither of the local men seemed to be very adept at Zeni-human theory. But they were onto something with the case they were investigating. Clock had found evidence of a serial killer who appears to have been killing for seventy-five years in the cities of Boston, San Diego Ca, and Austin Tx. The cities were in a rotation that made the serial aspect of the killings hard to spot. It was always at this time of year. I picked up on the markers that the suspect could possibly be a Zeni-human right away. Apparently so did the higher ups in the Boston PD. Everyone of the murders were of a group of three women at the same time all of them related by blood. The murders were ritualistic and all of them identical over the time span. The murders went unsolved for all for those years. Only once thirty-five years ago there was a witness who identified a suspect. The suspect was arrested but escaped by killing the only three officers who knew what he looked like. Unfortunately all of the paper work about the suspect was lost or destroyed as well. The authorities kept all of the facts of the cases secret out of embarrassment more than anything else. The witness was a ten year old boy who went into foster care after the murders.
This time it was Detective Clock picked up on a mistake in the M.O. The three women killed were adopted sisters not blood sisters. Clock was right to think that whatever the killer was trying to do with the ritual kills would not have worked this time. The month was almost over and all of the murders in the past seventy-five years took place in May, so of the killer was to strike again it would be soon.
The current people in charge of the Boston PD decided it was time to bring this killer down, that is why they called Philly. Commander Olpere chose to send Ed and I because he knows the rules and I know the job. Most of the morning we spent going over the details of the case with the two locals.
While Ed gave the Detective Clock a crash course on Zeni-human procedures. I was out on the street doing leg work with Detective Steele. I was starving having not eaten much for breakfast so Jeff and my first stop was lunch. He took me to a local place not far from the station Garber’s Diner. We sat at a table near the door to order lunch.
“I’m going to hit the can,” Jeff said as getting up from the table and heading to the back of the diner. Left alone I looked around the diner. It looked like any other at lunch time. Then I spotted her, Dharma was sitting at a table near the back of the diner. Strange thing was that I was uncomfortable at the house this morning because I felt like my danger sense wasn’t working, but now that I knew it was I felt no danger coming from the Inn owner. Even if it was her mother that was a danger to me I would get something from her.
I tried to blend into to the lunch crowd in the diner with no luck, she spotted me. Dharma came over to my table and sat down. “Mr. Roberts I just wanted to apologize for my mother,” she said to me with a smile.
“For what?” I asked innocently.
“For her interaction of you last night,” she replied, now we were getting somewhere. “Although I disagree with what she has done, something she learned rang a bell with me.” “She said you spoke of your parents being soul-mates.” I wanted to stop her, to tell her that my partner would be returning at any minute. But I was curious to hear what she had to say. “I once knew a girl who was so invested in finding her soulmate that she seemed to want to do nothing else.” “She was a very special girl, someone I came to admire very much.” “Her name was Dona.”
Just the way she said the name sent a chill up my spine. It had to be a coincidence. Mom never spoke of being in Boston. But the way Dharma pronounce my mother’s name, “Dona” not “Donna”. I always found Mom’s name to be odd, in fact I had never known anyone else to have that name. “That is an unusual name,” I said coyly.
“Not two thousand years ago or so,” Dharma comment shocking me again. “I did some research, I have friends at city hall.” “I found out that is your mother’s name too.” “If the Dona I knew is your mother that would make you a very special young man too.” “My mother thinks you can solve a problem for her, I’m not so sure.” Just then Jeff returned from the men’s room. “If you want to help me figure this out, give your mom a call, ask her about the Triad.” “Well I will leave you to your lunch” Dharma said nonchalantly getting up from the table to leave.
“Who was that?” Jeff asked taking his seat back from her in the booth on the bench across from me.
“She’s one of the owners of the Bed and Breakfast where Ed and I are staying,” I told him.
“She dresses kind of oddly, don’t you think?” Jeff commented. I hadn’t noticed before but he was right. Dharma dresses as though she was shopping at a thrift store from the eighteen hundreds and Macy’s.
After we finished lunch we headed to the home of Brice Simpson, whose sister and mother were killed as he watched thirty-five years ago. He was only ten at the time and was of no interest to the killer. After the murders the boy had a troubled life in foster care and he spent some time in a mental institution. He now lived with a roommate on a rather rundown part of town.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Jeff said as he shook Mr. Simpson’s hand at the door. “Can we come in?”
“Yeess, please do,” Brice Simpson said as he backed up to let us inside his small apartment. It was clear to me that Mr. Simpson still had many problems. The apartment was cluttered and messy, it smelled of cigarettes and beer. There are many prescription bottles sitting around the room on the tables. Some were empty on the floor but he didn’t appear to care.
“This is Officer Roberts, he is from Philadelphia, here on loan to help with this case,” Jeff explained.
“I can’t imagine why anyone still cares about my mother and sister’s deaths,” Mr. Simpson said sitting down in a well worn chair in front of the TV to light a cigarette. “It was a long time ago.”
“We believe there is good reason to care about the case, Mr. Simpson,” I told him. Jeff and I continued to stand not seeing anywhere to sit that we wouldn’t have to clean up first. “We need to know if you can still remember the killer’s face.”
“Of course I can, I used to see it everywhere,” Mr. Simpson replied sounding like a man who was still dealing with the trauma as well. “He was a bus driver back then.” the witness says as he checks his watch. “Then late, after I saw him collecting trash, when I was a teenager he was a crossing guard and then a mall security cop.” It is clear to the policemen that this man was so traumatized by the murders that he had become delusional. “For a while he was even a cable guy.” “When I told people they didn’t believe me.” Mr. Simpson picks up a bottle of pills from the side table next to his chair. “They put me on these meds, to keep my head clear.” “I have to take them every six hours to stay that way.” “Haven’t seen that face in years.” “When the two of you leave I wouldn’t be able to pick you out of a line up either.”
“Thank you for your time Mr. Simpson,” Jeff said as he lost hope of finding answers.
“Mr. Simpson, might I see those pills for a moment?” I asked.
“Sure, they saved my life!” the man replies handing Steve the bottle.
“Mr. Simpson do you work at all?” Steve asked.
“No, can’t, I’m on too many medications, I collect SSI,” Mr. Simpson told the officers.
“Thank you again, Mr. Simpson,” Steve says handing the pills back to the man. “We’ll find our way out.”
Once outside the apartment Jeff asks, “What was that about?”
After Steve and Jeff get in the car, he explains, “If we are dealing with a Zeni-human that is not aging normally a young boy like Simpson was back then might not pick up on it.” “The killer could have been following Simpson for years checking up on him slowly eroding his credibility in the eyes of adults around him.”
“So you are saying that it is possible that all of those times he thought he saw the killer he could have been really seeing him?” Jeff asks.
“More importantly the killer could still be watching him and he has no idea because of those drugs he is on.” Steve explains. “We need to talk to his doctor.” “I got the doctor’s name off of the pill bottle.” “Dr. Barlow, 345 Oak Avenue.” “Do you know where that is?”
“Sure do consider us on the way,” Jeff said pulling away from the curb.
As it turned out Dr. Barlow was not the one who originally prescribed the drug for Mr. Simpson. Simpson had been taking the drug cocktail since he was eighteen and the original prescriber had died ten years ago. There was no way of know what the result would be if Mr. Simpson stopped taking the meds now but we had to give it a try. We filed for a court order to have Mr. Simpson removed from the drug and watched over in ha hospital.
It was after 6 pm by the time we got it all taken care of, there wasn’t anything else to do than wait. Ed headed back to the Bed and Breakfast but I had something else to do before I went back to that house. Using one of the phones at the police station, “Hi mom, it’s me.”
“Oh sweetheart, it is good to hear from you,” my Mom said over the phone. “How is your business trip going?”
“Well Mom, I’m staying at this Bed and Breakfast that is run by three women, a grandmother, mother, and daughter.” “There is something strange going on with my danger sense while I’m in the house and one of the women said she knew you.”
“That is strange, I don’t think I have been to Boston recently,” Mom replied.
“Her name is Dharma and she told me to ask you about the Triad?” I continued. The phone line went silent for a moment.
“Their names are Dharma, Darla, and Drusilla?” Mom asked calmly.
“Yes, just not in that order,” I replied.
“Steven under no circumstances are you to have any sexual contact with any of these women!” my mother told me firmly.
“Mom really, I am a grown man,” I replied to my mother’s overprotectiveness.
“Steven Andrew Roberts, you need to listen to me!” Now I knew she was serious with the use of my full name. “These women are witches, powerful witches.” “I will admit they are not as dangerous to you as most because they have their own type of immortality, but they are still not to be trusted!”
“You know me better than that, Mom, I can take care of myself,” I said trying to calm her down. “Besides I get the feeling the only thing they want from me is my help.”
“If you intend to take care of yourself the way you did here, you better burn the sheet!” she replied and she didn’t sound like she was in a joking mood. “I can be on a plane in two hours!”
“MOM!” exclaimed. “Stop!” “Maybe I should talk to Dad about this, put him on the phone.” The moment I chose talking to my father over her, the tone of her voice changed. That always did bring her to her senses.
“Very well then big boy, here is what I know,” she said. “They are the first witches, trained over five thousand years ago by the Earth Mother herself.”
“The Earth Mother?” I questioned.
“That is a whole other story, do you want to hear about the Triad or not?” Mom scolded. I kept my mouth shut then and listened. I knew this was hard for her trusting me to take care of myself when witches were involved. “Okay them, Drusilla was the first to begin her training.”
“When Drusilla was 25 she had a daughter she named Dharma.” “Dharma also learned at the feet of Earth Mother.” “By the time the eldest woman’s granddaughter, Darla was born the mother and daughter had written a book about what the Earth Mother had taught them, ‘the Book of Witchcraft'”. “The Earth Mother rewarded her three first students by granting them a form of immortality.” When the youngest becomes pregnant the oldest dies, reincarnating into that new child.” “The cycle is endless but for the first twenty-five years the youngest witch does not remember their history.” “That was when I met Dharma, before her twenty-fifth birthday.”
“So you didn’t know she was a witch when you met her?” I timidly asked.
“We had become the best of friends, I never felt like she held any threat to me until she came of age and pregnant.” Mom told me. “She explained to me who they were and asked for my forgiveness.”
“Forgiveness?” I repeated. “For what?”
“For not telling me she was a witch,” Mom said. “After I found out the truth I decided it was best if I ended the friendship and moved on.”
“Just how close were the two of you?” I asked teasingly.
“None of you business!” she said firmly. “Are you sure you don’t need me to come there?”
I could hear the disappointment in her voice but I still said, “No, I will be fine.” After getting off the phone with my mother I guess my emotions showed on my face.
Will Clock, who was finishing up his paperwork asked, “Woman problems?”
“You might say that, my mother is still having a hard time dealing with the fact that I’m an adult, not her little boy anymore,” I said.
“Ya, this job has that effect on Moms,” Will confirmed. “It is almost like a phobia they develop when you become a cop.” “Hey, Jeff got to take you to lunch how about I show you a great place to get dinner?”
“Sounds go to me, I really don’t want to eat at the place I’m staying,” I told him.
“Great let me get my coat and we can go,” Will told me.
Will Clock took me to a Seafood place called the Barnacle. It was kind of a theme restaurant with all kinds of mariner trinkets on the walls. From the ceiling in the center of the dining room three old row boats were mounted. He got us a table near the bar and we ordered drinks. “I’ve never been much of a beer drinker,” I said, “but I will have a Gin and Tonic.”
We talked and had a few more drinks as we waited for our food. “So why did you become a cop?” Will asked.
“I guess I really just wanted to help people,” I told him.
“So, do you feel like you’ve accomplished your goal?” he asked.
It was a good question to ask me. Looking back over the past two years and all that had happened I wasn’t sure about my answer. There was that time when I helped that pizza delivery guy who got beat up in that bad part of town. The time I helped out at a Red Cross blood drive was fulfilling. But most of the things I did as a cop really didn’t seem like I was living up to my potential. Times like when I stopped that runaway car from hitting people on the street seemed more like what I should be doing. Funny thing is I spent more time in the past two years hiding what I could do than actually doing it. Yesterday at the airport when I was running and jumping around as turtleman I felt more fulfilled than I ever did while wearing a police uniform. I wasn’t even at the airport as a cop and I helped more people in trouble than I had in the past year.
“Hello, Earth to Steve Roberts,” Will announces across the table from me. “Earth to Steve Roberts,” “I asked, do you feel like you’ve accomplished your goal?”
“I’m really not sure,” I told him. That was a better answer that saying I think I would do better as a Superhero. The idea of putting on tights and a cape sounded ridiculous to me when Paddy had suggested it a while back, But I was kinda thinking that was what I should be doing with my powers.
As we talked over dinner, Will was a nice guy and he seemed to be a dedicated cop which made me reconsider my career even more. It was around eight that I called it a night and got a cab back to the Enchanted Suite, the name of the place had a whole new meaning for me now.
I was not at all surprised to find Dharma waiting for me in the front Parlor. On her lap she held a wooden box that looked like something jewelry would be kept in. “Did you speak with your mother?” she asked point blank.
“I did,” I answered. “I assume what I learned was because you wanted me to help you with something.”
“Yes, but first of all, how is your mother?” Dharma asked smiling with her eyes more than her mouth.
“She is fine, she told me the two of you were the best of friends,” I told her as I sat down across the room from her. I was preoccupied by the box on her lap. I remembered what Mom said about them being dangerous. “But your friendship ended when she learned you were a witch.”
“I’ve always regretted that, she was, is a wonderful person,” Dharma told me.
“Just over protective sometimes,” I said out of turn.
“She told you not to trust us, to trust me,” Dharma says sadly. “She is still suffering from her loss.”
“What loss?” I asked. I never imagined that there was a deeper meaning for her overprotectiveness.
“It is not my place to say that is hers to tell you,” Dharma said. “But we do need your help,” she said lifting the box from her lap. “We believe you have the gift of Precognition.” “Perhaps a mutation of that danger sense your mother always talked about.”
“Yes, that is true, but my visions always center around me,” I told her. “I can’t tell anyone else’s future, I’m not a fortune teller.”
“I thought as much that is why I have this.” Dharma opened the box that contained a pearl and opal necklace. “Mother didn’t have much luck with the truth potion she gave you, your metabolism proceeded it too fast.” “So I figured we might try something different.”
“Truth potion?” I questioned.
“Drusilla has always been willing to do whatever it takes to get her way,” Dharma said of her mother. “That is why I apologized this afternoon.” “This talisman will enhance your power, let you see the future beyond yourself.” “It is completely up to you if you wear it to sleep tonight.” Dharma handed me the box and left me alone in the parlor.
I opened the box and looked at the piece of jewelry, it looked very old but completely harmless. Mom would probably have a fit if she knew I was considering doing as Dharma had asked. I thought about everything that I had learned about the Triad and the lack of danger I felt with Dharma at the diner.
“What do you have there?” someone asked with an accent. I looked up to see another one of the guess the young guy with a ponytail standing not far away looking at the box on my lap. “I study historical artifacts, do you mind if I have a look?” he asked.
“Not at all,” I said, hoping to get someone else’s input before I made my decision. I handed him the box and he looked closely at the necklace without lifting it out of the box.
“Ugric,” he whispered over the box.
“What was that you said?” I asked having heard his softly spoken word.
“Just a Brazilian expression,” he answered. “I’d say it is about a hundred years old, a gypsy necklace, not worth much.” “Just a superstitious trinket.”
“Gypsy trinket, is it magical?” I asked trying to sound as sceptical as possible.
“Haa haaaa,” he laughed. “If you believe in that kind of those things it is supposed to bring solutions in your dreams.” “See the dark opals, they will show you a crisis and the pearls will show you the solution.” “That is the reason there are more pearls than opals.”
“Oh there you are Mr. Bascom,” Drusilla said coming into the room. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” she told him taking his arm.
“Thanks for the info,” I said. “Don’t drink the tea,” I recommend getting a glare for the old woman as she lead Mr. Bascom from the room. I was worried about what Drusilla wanted with the guy but I knew she wasn’t going to harm him.
I headed up to my room with my strange gift. When I got upstairs I spotted Darla coming out of Ed’s room. That was odd, “Is everything okay?” I asked her.
“Yes, of course, I just brought Mr. Bower some hot chocolate,” Darla said smiling. That might have worked on any other guest but my mother told me not to trust these women. As the youngest I knew Darla was not on board with the other two by that didn’t mean I could trust her. I continued to my room as the girl walked down the hall to her room.
I went into my room as well. I put the box on the dresser before going into the bathroom. Crossing the bathroom to the door that connects to Ed’s room I knocked. “Ed are you alright?” I called as I turned to doorknob. I peeked inside to see Ed lay sleeping in his bed. I quietly stepped inside the adjoining room and softly walked over to the bed. Ed appeared to be sleeping peacefully. On the nightstand an empty mug sat. I took a sniff of the former contents, definitely hot chocolate. I had no way of knowing if it had been spiked. After all I did drink that tea last night.
Deciding not to try to wake Ed, I returned to my room. I started to get undressed for bed when I glanced over at the box on the dresser. I rethought getting undressed and put my shirt back on. I took the necklace from the box. It was heavier than it looked. I sat on the edge of the bed looking at the gypsy trinket, as Bascom called it. I knew it was a big risk but I wanted to help these strange women. I put the necklace on and laid back on the bed. I felt a tingle at the back of my neck where the string of beads touch my bare skin but that was it. I moved to unbutton my shirt so the pearls and opals strand slid to touch my bare chest. Within minutes I was asleep.