Beneath the Mall of Madness (A Jaspar Windisle Mystery Book 1) Read online

  “Someone definitely came through here,” he called. “A lot of somebodies and they went to the edge of the forest.” He walked towards the trees. “And then they disappeared.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean the ground’s soft, but there are no more footprints.” He turned back. “I guess we’ll have to do a stakeout of-HEY!” I jumped a little and turned to find a man lunging at me with a knife. I ducked, lost my footing, and started to slide down the hill.

  “Where is it?” the man demanded.

  “Urgh,” I replied, clinging to the grass. “Where is what?”

  “The key! We know you have it now. Hand it over!” He was saying that, but he slashed at my hands while he did it. I slid farther down the hill.

  “Are you really attacking me in front of a cop?” I asked him. If I let go, I’d probably slide all the way to the bottom. There was no telling what kind of shape I would be in when I got there.

  “Ha! Once I take the key human laws will mean nothing! And there’s nothing he can do to stop me!” I realized I was looking at a cultist. I’d never seen one before. He looked a great deal like an ordinary businessman. Rather than follow me down the hill he dropped the knife and reached into his breast pocket for something else.

  “I’ll show you whaAAAh!” He pulled his hand away. Something fell to the ground; he ignored it in favor of clutching his hand.

  “You bastard!” He screamed.

  “Put your hands in the air!” Earl shouted. “I won’t tell you twice!”

  “You’ll pay for that! You’ll-” What else Earl would do would never be known as Mr. Bad Guy’s left eye vanished in a puff of gore.

  “I told him,” Earl said. He holstered his gun and started climbing back up the hill. There was a corpse blocking my way, so I moved to the side. On the way up I picked up the knife and the book he had dropped.

  “Did he get you?” Earl asked when he got to the top.

  “No, he missed every time. Do you often gun down unarmed men?”

  “I only give one warning per person,” Earl said. “And he might have been reaching for a gun. Besides, the sheriff’s official policy is that we don’t humor cultists and between that knife and that speech he was obviously a cultist.”

  “That’s really not going to stand up in court,” I said.

  “True, but he’s dressed very sharply for a crazy person who just happened to be wandering around a swamp looking for someone to stab.” It was true. The deceased was wearing a tailored business suit. He must have taken a different route than us because his pants didn’t have a trace of mud on them.

  “I wonder what kind of key he was looking for,” I said. “And. . . is that a revolver you’re carrying?” Earl unholstered his gun and showed it to me.

  “Yes indeed.”

  “I thought policemen used semiautomatics these days.”

  “This is what I’m used to, and the Sheriff hasn’t made a fuss. As you can see, it works well enough.”

  “Did you mean to shoot his hand?”

  “Yup. I like to give people a chance. He just didn’t take it.”

  “I’ll remember that.” I looked at the book. “I wonder what good he thought this was going to do.”

  “It’s probably his spell book. That or it’s booby trapped somehow.” I dropped it.

  “This knife is weird too,” I said. “It looks like it came from Merlin’s Magical House of Discount Cutlery, but, you know, well made.”

  “If a rich guy wants a glittery knife he can commission the best,” Earl said. “Do you want it?”

  “Uh, no,” I said. “I don’t need a sacrificial dagger and I’d be embarrassed to get caught opening boxes or slicing up vegetables with that thing.”

  “Suit yourself. I guess it’s evidence anyhow. We’re going to be here awhile, so you’re probably going to have to cancel on Fiona.”

  “What?”

  “Unless you want to help me shove this guy over the side and forget about him, you’re going to have to give a statement.”

  “Oh.” While we waited for other officers to arrive, we speculated about the man’s last words. Earl found the dead man’s wallet and it turned out his name was Damien Smith.

  “He never had a chance with a name like that,” Earl said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with the name Damien,” I argued. “If that was enough to turn him evil, he deserved to get shot.”

  “You should check your stuff for anything that might be a key,” Earl suggested. “Folks like this rarely show up alone, and it’d help if you knew what they were ranting about.”

  “My pendant could be considered a key of sorts,” I said. “But if he could afford those shoes he could afford a chunk of amber. The cheese wasp is gone so it can’t be that.”

  “Uh huh.” Earl sized me up. “Have you checked the pockets of those pants? Maybe it was something old man Fry had.”

  “These are my old pants. Anyway, I checked them all before sending them to the cleaners, but I’ll check them again. I hope they’re not magic pants. I can’t afford to keep buying new clothes.” Earl shrugged.

  “It was worth a try. Guess it’s still a mystery.”

  “Why do you have a six shooter anyway?” I asked him.

  “I used to be a train robber.” The look on his face was completely serious. “You can’t hold up trains without a revolver. No one will take you seriously.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Nope.”

  “What could you possibly steal on a modern train that would be worth the hassle?”

  “I didn’t say I robbed trains recently. For the other kind, you only need half a dozen like-minded fellows, some snazzy bandanas and a few crates of dynamite. Oh, and some horses. You used to be able to catch a train on horseback.”

  “Sorry, I asked.”

  “What did you do before you started talking to dead people?”

  “I’ve always been able to talk to dead people,” I told him. “Before I got paid for it I was locked in a crypt.”

  “Oh. That sucks.”

  “It did.”

  “Did you use necromancy to get out?”

  “No. Someone let me out. I didn’t start the psychic business until recently.”

  “What did you do in between?”

  “Odd jobs here and there. I tried fishing for a few years, but I’m not cut out for it.”

  “Too rough?”

  “I gave it my best shot and my best was total crap. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall overboard.” There were many reasons commercial fishing did not become a career for me. The long hours, the hard physical labor, the unpredictability of the season, but mostly it was because I was afraid of being crushed to death by a tuna. That is definitely not something I want in my obituary.

  “So when that didn’t pan out you went with the corpse feng shui?”

  “No, after that I was a short order cook, a waiter, a mail carrier, and a fisherman again because I don’t learn from my mistakes. Then back to waiting tables, I was a barista for a while, and then I became a spiritual consultant.”

  “Wow. I went straight from robbery to law enforcement.”

  “What made you switch?”

  “Too difficult. When was the last time you heard of a successful train robbery? And I like the hats. Modern bandits just don’t have interesting hats.” I couldn’t tell if he was kidding.

  “Do you think his name is really Damien Smith?” I asked, returning the conversation to the dead man. “It sounds like an alias.”

  “It’s on all the cards in his wallet. If you don’t think it’s his real name why don’t you ask him?” Earl was being snide, so I decided to do it. I pulled out my pendant. Sparks stirred from my shoulder. He’d never been able to resist his favorite toy. He chased it around while I swung it like a cat toy then he landed on the body for a moment. He came back to me full of news.

  Mr. Smith had worked at Jesticorps. That was going to be awkward when I next spoke to Stev
e. He’d also been planning to kill me whether I gave him his key or not. He hadn’t known what the key looked like; he’d been counting on me to know what I had. He was from Chicago, and he’d never had to slog through a muddy field before in his life. Also, he hadn’t thought that Earl would shoot him. His mother made the best meatloaf he’d ever tasted, and he needed the key to get underground because. . .

  “He’s working with someone else,” I said. “It’s got something to do with the new mall.”

  “Oh?”

  “Whatever killed people is preventing them from doing something, but I’m not sure what. I don’t think this guy knew.”

  “That’s not very helpful.”

  “I also have his mother’s killer onion gravy recipe,” I told him. “Sorry. For all, I know he spilled his guts, but the ‘spirits’ have different priorities than me.”

  “Their priorities include onion gravy but not attempted murder?”

  “I think occult stuff bores my spirit guide, to be honest.” Sparks was done with this particular dead man. He was clinging to the bottom of the pendant and swinging it back and forth.

  “That’s something, anyway,” Earl said. “I do like onion gravy.”

  “Are the Fry’s tunnels extensive?” I asked.

  “Yup. They’re all over town. Why?”

  “Mr. Smith wanted to go underground. Maybe he thought there was a tunnel to the mall, and he was looking for a map?”

  “That could be,” Earl said. “If so, why wouldn’t he buy the old man’s clothes before you arrived? It’s not like Cici doesn’t want to get rid of them.”

  “It was just an idea.”

  ***

  It seemed to take forever to answer questions and get the cultist’s body to the morgue. Steve confirmed that it was a coworker and that Damien Smith was his real name.

  “I’m sorry about this,” he said when we were done and on our way to the morgue ourselves. “I swear, I thought this was going to be an easy job.”

  “Did you know the higher ups in your company dabble in the occult?”

  “No way,” he said, shaking his head. “We are building a mall for God’s sake. It doesn’t get much less occult than that.”

  “Then I forgive you,” I said. “As long as you don’t do it again.”

  “You can move in with me if you feel unsafe at the hotel,” he offered. “I’m renting a house while I’m here.”

  “That’s okay. I’m probably safer where I am. I get the feeling that no one’s going to sneak up on me in the middle of the night while I’m sleeping there.”

  “That’s true. Honestly, the real reason I moved out was because one night I stayed out past their curfew and woke up in the parking lot.” I laughed.

  “So the sleep effect extends outside the building?”

  “Yes. All the way to the middle of the street out front and a few yards into the marsh behind them.”

  “I’ll bet that causes accidents.”

  “I suppose the locals are familiar with it, and tourists don’t go back there much.”

  The medical examiner wasn’t in a good mood. He told us not to touch anything before he pulled the bodies out. He started to unzip a body bag, and I put my hands out to stop him.

  “Just open it a few inches please,” I said. “I really don’t need to see it.” A few inches was enough to interest Sparks. He hovered over the body for a few seconds. He fluttered over to me and hovered right in front of my eyes, forcing me to cross them if I wanted to look at him. His eyes, normally wide, had opened even wider until they were taking up half his body. It meant he’d learned something he found exciting.

  “What is it?” I asked him.

  This was a man who once melted a pot trying to boil ramen. He’d taken a construction job one summer to buy a car and had liked it. His goal was to be a foreman, maybe even own his own company someday. His favorite meal was vegetarian pizza and beer. He wanted a dog, but he worked such long hours he couldn’t take care of one. Maybe he could settle for an aquarium or a hamster. Hamsters were easy to take care of, right? Oh, and one of those weird plants that were all over the construction site had come to life, knocked him down, and yanked his guts out.

  “Are you okay?” Steve asked me.

  “Not really,” I said. It was easier to maintain professional detachment when the deceased was an asshole like Damien Smith. “He was killed by some kind of plant monster.”

  “No kidding?” the medical examiner asked.

  “I didn’t look around last time. Were there any weird looking plants? Like tall, mangy ferns?”

  “There might have been something like that,” Steve replied. “If the culprit is plant monsters we can kill them, right?”

  “Will I look crazy if I put that in my report?” The medical examiner asked. “I’m used to unusual causes of death, but ‘plant monster’ might be crossing a line.”

  “Damned if I know, and probably,” I said. “Try spraying weed killer and see what happens.”

  “They might be endangered though,” Steve said. “If they are we’ll have to move our location.”

  “What are you talking about?” Steve got a long-suffering look on his face as if I was the one who was babbling.

  “If it’s a new species no one has ever heard of before it’s almost certainly rare. And even if I were that sort of land developer, too many people are investigating this for me to cover it up.”

  “Hell man, they’re monsters,” the medical examiner said. “Assuming this kid is telling the truth. Killing is what monsters are for. I’m sure if you tell them how close they came to becoming fertilizer even the tree-huggers would agree to look the other way when you pull out the chainsaws.”

  “We’ll see,” Steve said. “We’ve been there for weeks and this is the first incident. I’m sure we’ve got time to think about it.”

  “Seriously?” I asked. “Not to be the hysterical psychic or anything, but do you know the life cycle of carnivorous plant monsters? Maybe they only wake up in the fall. Call that geologist you hired and tell them not to go out there.”

  “It’s too late for that,” he said. “I told you he was going over there with Tony while we did this. They might even be done by now.”

  “Call them anyway.”

  ***

  Steve tried, but they were out of range. And, it hardly needs to be mentioned, dead. The state police seemed annoyed that I had such a good alibi for my entire morning. From breakfast onward I’d been in the presence of law enforcement. Now the FBI were going to be called in. I wasn’t sure what made this their jurisdiction. I hoped they were more objective, and less impulsive than the state police.

  “I suppose this works in our favor, but I can’t feel happy about it,” Fiona said at dinner. She’d insisted that I come over, along with Earl.

  “Of course not,” he said. “This won’t be the end of it, I’m sure.”

  “Steve seemed to think it would be,” I said.

  “Does he have the authority to shut their operation down?” Fiona asked. “Even if he did could you prove, right now, that the chupacabra did it?”

  “Could we please not call it that?” I asked. “That makes it sound like we’re in a cheap monster movie.”

  “What else should we call it?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Someone’s going to have to go back there and catch one in action. You have to prove an animal exists before it goes on the endangered species list.”

  “Why in action?” I asked. “I’m sure that thing applies to plants too. Someone could get a telephoto lens and take pictures of the leaves. I’m no botanist, and neither was the victim, but it seemed like the above ground parts of these things looked unique. Why are you going along with the endangered species plan anyway? I thought you killed monsters.”

  She frowned at me.

  “In my own home, of course, I do. In this case, there’s no reason for humans to be in that particular field. My goal is to keep people from being killed by the chupacabras. I
f I can do that without fighting them, it’s fine with me. Photographing them might work,” she continued. “The trick is still going to be finding someone brave enough.” She thought for a while. “I’m going to call a meeting for all the protestors. We can work something out.”

  “What are you going to be doing?” Earl asked me.

  “I’m going to be searching my new clothes for anything that looks like a key and waiting until someone finds another reason to need a necromancer for a job that is clearly meant for a biologist of some kind.” As far as I was concerned my work here was done. Steve still wanted me to hang around, although he couldn’t give me a clear reason why. As long as I didn’t have to go back to the construction site I had no problem living on his company’s dime.

  “Would you like to come to the meeting?” Fiona asked. “Many of the protestors are from out of town so they won’t believe you, but you might find it interesting.”

  ***

  It was interesting. The meeting was held at a rest stop several miles down the highway, in deference to the protestors who didn’t want to kill their suspensions by driving into town. When Fiona said, there was a new, dangerous species of animal loose at the construction site no one questioned her. Despite their appearances, the environmentalist group proved to have several members who were very resourceful. They’d collected all the forms they needed to document our ‘new’ life form and knew exactly what we needed to do to prove it. I wasn’t able to give much more information than that the plants had a surprisingly long reach, and there was more than one of them.

  Most of the hunters and several of the environmentalists were sure only a dead specimen would be sufficient proof. The ones who’d done the research insisted high-quality photos and video would be enough for the government.

  The plan they all agreed on was to approach the site directly from the road, where they thought it was still safe. One person with a video camera would start recording while another person got as close as they were comfortable with to one of the ‘ferns.’ Both people would be covered by men with rifles.