Beneath the Mall of Madness (A Jaspar Windisle Mystery Book 1) (25 page)

Steve seemed to be cheered up by what I told him. He hadn’t known what to think when the giant tentacles were reported. No one had been near the site so he couldn’t say for sure if any of the chupacabras had escaped. I didn’t like that. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things. This town had enough reasons to stay away already.

That night my dreams were back to food related silliness. I didn’t see the bronze gate at all, though I remember searching for it.

The next morning Theresa and her mother had a pleasant surprise for me.

“I have an idea about how to get rid of the goldfish,” Mrs. Whateley told me.

“I’m all ears.”

“We’ve refilled their tank,” Theresa said. “Since they’re fish, maybe once they get into the water they’ll stay there. Then you won’t have to worry about laying them to rest since they won’t be bothering anybody.”

“It’s worth a try,” I said. “Where’s the tank?”

“In the smoking lounge,” Theresa said. “I’m surprised you haven’t been there.”

“I don’t smoke.” After seeing the trophy room, I’d lost interest in exploring the rest of the hotel.

“You can’t smoke in there now,” Mrs. Whateley told me. “To be honest, it’s a room whose time has passed.”

The smoking lounge had all leather furniture, fancy bookshelves, and a big brass fireplace with a mural of Mount Rainier mounted over it. The fish tank took up an entire wall. If I could get the goldfish in the tank, there would be plenty of room for all of them.

“Impressive,” I said as I walked towards it. “No wonder you had so many dead fish.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Mrs. Whateley said. “Its original occupant was an electric eel.”

“Goldfish are better,” Theresa said.

“They are.” I walked forward, holding my breath, as one fish, then another, entered the tank. Once in they seemed content to stay.

We had waited almost an hour before the last fish entered the tank.

“It worked,” Theresa said, surprised.

“The real test will be when I try to leave,” I said. I started to do just that. As I slowly backed out of the room, the fish stayed where they were. I kept backing up until I was out of the room and closed the door. I exhaled.

“I think that did it,” I said.

“Great!” Theresa cheered. “Now I don’t have to worry about my fish dying!”

“I’m glad that’s worked out,” Mrs. Whateley said. “By the way, Mr. Windisle, I was talking to Cecilia yesterday, and she said you’d found Mr. Fry’s old magazine collection.”

“Yes, I did. It’s mostly pulp fiction.”

“I know. Do you happen to know if he had the complete run of
Rugged Metropolis
?”

I stared at her.

“No, I haven’t looked through them all yet. Why?”

“Oh, there was a story in there that I’d always wanted to finish,” she said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said. “And I’ll try to find it for you before I leave.”

“Thank you.”

“
Rugged Metropolis
, Mom?” Theresa said. “Does Dad know you’re reading that kind of thing?”

“It’s not like that,” Mrs. Whateley said. “It’s very educational.”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Why don’t you go watch the front desk, dear?”

“Yes, Mom. Thanks for taking care of my fish,” she said to me.

“Thank you for helping me get rid of them,” I said to her. She turned and ran up the stairs.

“How much longer are you going to stay?” Mrs. Whateley asked me.

“Not much longer,” I said. “I doubt it will take a psychic to convince Jesticorps they need to find a new site for their mall now.”

***

With that in mind, I went back to the Fry house and started sorting magazines. Cassandra emerged from the cellar to watch. She seemed more rested than the last time we met. Maybe she
had
learned something from her fainting spell.

“How’s your machine coming along?” I asked her.

“Better than I expected,” she said. “Thank you for that logic book, by the way. Working on the problems has really helped me clear my mind.”

“That’s nice. Have you seen Dr. Finch around?” I hadn’t forgotten that a shape-shifting monster wanted a private word with me.

“Oh, I’ve done better than see him,” Cassandra said. “I’ve spoken to the real Dr. Finch, or at least someone else claiming to be him back at the university. I thought he was being a bigger dick than usual, and it turns out that it’s because he went on a real vacation this year in Hawaii, and never intended to come here at all.”

“That’s unexpected,” I said.

“Yes. He wanted to come up here and confront the imposter, but I think I convinced him to stay put.”

“If he comes here, he’ll probably get shot faster than he can say ‘I’m not a monster,’” I said.

“Indeed. He was able to help me make some modifications to my machine. My initial tests have been promising.”

“What sort of modifications?” She just smiled. Ah, mad pseudoscience, another reason to get the hell out of town.

“So, how is your sorting going?”

“It could be better,” I told her. “I have a few rooms cleaned out, and I think I’ve got everything I want, so it won’t be a big loss if I have to toss the rest into a dumpster.” She winced.

“Have you found any more logic problems?”

“No.”

“Could you check before you leave?”

“Sure.”

She wandered back outside. I looked at the stacks of magazines and books. I wasn’t going to have time to go through them all. I started boxing up the magazines for Cecilia.

When she arrived, she wasn’t happy to see me alone.

“You know we haven’t got rid of all the cultists,” she scolded me. “Plus, there’s something weird going on with Cassandra and her machine.”

“Mrs. Whateley might be interested in some of these,” I told her.

“Yes, I heard. In light of our friendship, and because it isn’t my favorite genre, I’m giving her all of
Rugged Metropolis
. And don’t change the subject. You shouldn’t go anywhere alone until we find the Finch monster.”

“I guess you’re right. Will you escort me back to the hotel then?”

“Sure,” she said, “if you can wait an hour or two. I was just here to check up on Dr. Cassidy before heading to Fiona’s. She said she has something she wants to discuss with me.”

“I can wait,” I told her.

***

Tired of sorting junk, I headed up to the attic. The maps were still laid out on the table. I hadn’t decided what to do with them yet. Giving them to the sheriff’s department seemed like the right thing to do. On the other hand, there might be a local historian or collector who would be interested in them. I examined the top map. It was of the northern half of town, including this and Fiona’s house. There were thick red lines indicating tunnels Obadiah had dug himself, black lines for tunnels his ancestors had created, blue, green, and purple lines for power, water, and gas, and broken black lines for tunnels of unknown origin. I checked carefully and was relieved to see that none of the broken lines came near the house. There weren’t any tunnels shown on Obadiah’s property. I frowned and checked the map more closely. I knew that wasn’t right. When I’d communicated with the specters, I’d seen Obadiah leaving a tunnel and heading straight for his house. I checked the map to see if there were any obvious places for another tunnel to connect to the town’s network. Nothing jumped out at me, unless he’d made a tunnel to Fiona’s house.

With nothing better to do until Cecilia returned I went downstairs, put my coat on, and headed for the backyard. If anything my original impression of the yard being unkempt had been generous. It was overgrown with junipers and blackberries, the mass of greenery getting higher and thicker until thorns formed an impenetrable wall the height of the house. The only clear spot was where Fiona had killed that bone monster with lightning. True to her warning even the plants she hadn’t scorched were withering.

Based on what I’d glimpsed in Obadiah’s memories the tunnel was buried somewhere in the middle of the yard. I took out my amber pendant to help me search. Sparks was still sleeping in my jacket, and the skies were overcast, so there was no bright light to agitate the moths. I swung the pendant lightly as I waded into the junipers. I didn’t know if this would work now. The amber seemed clearer than it had yesterday. I hoped I wasn’t imagining it. Eventually, one side pulled more strongly than any other. That meant at least one of my moths was still viable. I followed the tug and found an opening in the wall of blackberries, kept clear by latticework. Inside I was invisible from the house or the road. In the little clearing with me was a wooden plank with an iron ring in the center of it, lying on the ground. I tugged on the ring and found the plank moved easily. I dragged it to the side to reveal a set of wide, shallow stairs leading down.

I checked my watch. Even if Cecilia came back in an hour, I had plenty of time to explore. I tucked the pendant away and descended into the darkness.

I didn’t have to make my way in the dark for long. There was a light switch even with the top step, and it was in working order. At the base of the stairs, the tunnel widened so much that I could have driven a truck through it. The floor was perfectly even, and the walls were tiled like a subway station. I don’t have a good sense of direction, but it seemed to me that the tunnel was heading away from Fiona’s house. For some reason, this didn’t strike me as a bad sign, and I continued to the other side. It wasn’t a long walk. There was a ramp on this end instead of stairs, and the opening was a regular particleboard door. There was a steel bar lying across it. I lifted it aside and found the door unlocked.

The room on the other side was an unfinished basement. It contained a wood burning stove, a water heater, and not much else. Unlike the tunnel, the room smelled and felt musty. The door leading to the rest of the house was slightly ajar. I climbed the stairs and peeked into the main part of the house.

My first thought was that this was
not
Fiona’s house. There were no interior walls on the first floor, and the windows were boarded up. In the low light, I could see that the carpet at least was new. There were blankets strewn across the floor, and pizza boxes stacked against the walls. It was only natural for the owner of this house to eat takeout; they had no kitchen. I realized that this was the third house by the cliff, the one I hadn’t been in, and with the owner I hadn’t met.

As I thought that I heard footsteps above me, and I realized I was breaking and entering. I headed back into the basement and towards the tunnel. Before I reached the tunnel door, the basement door was flung open. Against my better judgment, I turned to look at the house’s occupant.

“Mr. Fry is dead,” said a young male voice above me, “so who are you? No,
what
are you?”

I could have asked the same question. Everything about this person was red. His long disheveled hair, his one visible eye, his horns, the barb on the tip of his tail, and even his skin had a reddish tinge. That’s right, he had horns and a tail. His tail was my most immediate concern. It was long enough to reach across the basement and the barb at the end was uncomfortably close to my face.

“I don’t know what I am,” I told him honestly. “What are
you
?” The tail pulled back. With the threat of impalement removed for the moment, I took a close look at his face. He had something of the Whateley look about him, but he wasn’t an exact copy like the rest of them. I was barely surprised when he answered me.

“I’m Noah Whateley’s familiar. My name is Legion.” I mentally rolled my eyes at yet another biblical name, and almost missed it when he hopped down a few steps to get closer to me.

“Is Noah Whateley home?” I asked.

“Of course not,” he said, surprised. “Noah Whateley is dead, and good riddance. I would never have agreed to be his familiar if I had known how long the old bastard was going to live. Obadiah had been taking care of me, but he is dead now too.”

“So you’re alone in the house?” He nodded. The tail came back.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he said. “I can be quite dangerous.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I said.

“Are you dangerous?” he asked.

“No, unfortunately.”

“Oh.” The tail retreated again. “I thought you felt dangerous.” He jumped down the rest of the stairs. “Ah-ha. I wondered how you got past the spells on the door, but now I see you’re wearing one of Obadiah’s coats.”

“There are spells on the door?” It was news to me.

“That’s right,” he said. “Most of the time they keep anyone from getting in or out. I broke through them a few weeks ago, but the Whateleys chased me back in here. That’s okay, I like it here. As long as I get fed I don’t really care if I leave.”

“Which Whateley?”

He shrugged.

“Does it matter to you? They’re all the same to me.” He grabbed my hand. “I do like company though. Come upstairs, and I’ll feed you.”