In the House of the Wicked: A Remy Chandler Novel Page 7

  Remy guessed that the little girl belonged to them.

  She had stuck one of her small arms through the rungs of the wrought-iron fence and was making little smacking sounds.

  Remy couldn’t help but slow down to see what she was up to.

  On the other side of the fence was a small garden, a cherry blossom tree in the center surrounded by an assortment of wildflowers and some tall grass. Remy could just about make out the shape of a little black-and-white cat, hunkered down, trying desperately to hide in what grass there was.

  The child must have sensed Remy’s presence behind her and turned her adorable gaze up to him.

  “My kitty got out of her box and ran across the street into the grass,” she informed him. “Can you help me get her out?”

  Remy stepped over to the fence, setting his bag of groceries down as he squatted beside her. “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Spooky. She’s a girl.”

  “That’s a very nice name for a girl,” Remy said.

  “Mine is Ashley.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Ashley. I’m Remy.”

  “Remy, can you get Spooky out of there?”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Remy replied.

  “Don’t be a-scared, Spooky.” Ashley turned her attention back to the cat still cowering under the cover of the tall green blades of grass. “Remy is gonna get you out.”

  Spooky began to growl, backing farther away as Remy made eye contact.

  “Hey there, Spooky,” he said, so the cat could understand him. “Why don’t you come out of there, and we’ll get you back into your box….”

  “No,” the cat hissed, followed by an even more ferocious growl. “No box…no car…no.”

  “What’s she sayin’?” Ashley asked.

  “I don’t think she liked being in the box or going in the car.”

  “She makes weird noises in the car,” Ashley agreed with a nod.

  “That’s ’cause she’s upset,” Remy explained. “The car scares her.”

  “I’m a-scared of ghosts,” Ashley said matter-of-factly.

  “Really?” Remy asked. “Well, it’s a good thing there aren’t any ghosts in your new house.”

  “There isn’t?” the little girl asked, looking across the street. Her mother was helping the movers with some of the smaller boxes, but Dad continued his argument on the cell phone.

  “Nope, I checked it out before you moved in. Perfectly ghost-free.”

  “Thanks, Remy,” the little girl said, and he felt her tiny hand slip into his.

  He turned his head slightly to look at the five-year-old, who was staring fixedly at her cat, still hiding in the garden grass.

  “You think Spooky is ever gonna come out of there?”

  “Yeah, I think she will,” Remy said. “Just let me talk to her a little more.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hey, Spooky.” Remy again spoke so the cat could hear him in her feline tongue. “You might want to think about coming out of there before it’s too late.”

  The cat glared at him, her green eyes nearly matching the color of her grassy cover. “Why?”

  “Doone lives in this house.”

  “What’s Doone?”

  “Doone is a very large dog.” Remy glanced at his watch. “And if I’m not mistaken, he should be leaving for his afternoon walk any minute now.”

  Remy could see panic flicker in the cat’s eyes. She became even more skittish, glancing from where she hid up toward the front stairs to the building and the front door.

  “Dog?” Spooky asked. “Dog here?”

  “He’s right inside there,” Remy said, pointing to the house. “And I know for a fact he doesn’t care for cats.”

  “You better come out of there, Spooky,” Ashley coaxed. “Doone don’t sound very nice.”

  “Hey, Ashley?” Remy asked. The little girl looked at him. “Would you get me Spooky’s box?”

  “Sure, Remy.” She turned toward the street.

  “Be careful of cars,” Remy cautioned.

  She stopped and looked both ways before darting across the street.

  “Okay, then,” Remy said, turning back to Spooky. “Ashley is going to get your box, and that’s where you’re going to go. All right?”

  “Doone dog,” the cat whined nervously. “Where?”

  “Doone is inside the house,” Remy explained. “If you get back into your box and let Ashley take you inside the new house, you two will never even make eye contact. Do we have a deal?”

  Remy looked away to see Ashley on the other side with the cardboard pet carrier. He checked for traffic and then motioned her across once the coast was clear.

  “Here’s her box,” Ashley said, handing it to him.

  “Thanks.” He took the box and opened the cover, then placed it just outside the wrought-iron fence, between two of the posts.

  “C’mon, Spooky,” Remy urged the cat. “Let’s shake that tail.”

  “No shake tail,” the cat snarled, her tail whipping angrily from side to side.

  “All right, then,” Remy said, as he stood up. “Maybe Doone can get you to move.” He looked at the stairs and the door above, as if expecting the dog to emerge at any moment.

  Spooky bounded out of the grass, through the wrought-iron bars, and jumped into her cardboard carrier.

  “Yay!” Ashley shrieked, doing the cutest dance while clapping her chubby hands.

  “Good job, Spooky,” Remy said. He reached out to close the lid on the carrier, and Spooky’s paw shot out, raking bloody tracks across the back of Remy’s hand.

  “Scared,” she hissed, letting him know that there was nothing to cheer about as far as she was concerned.

  Remy nearly dropped the carrier, but managed to balance it on his knee as he finally got the lid closed.

  “Did she get ya?” Ashley asked as Remy set the carrier down on the sidewalk.

  “Yeah, but that’s all right.” The gashes stung like crazy, but he could feel his flesh already beginning to heal. “It’s not too bad.”

  Ashley pulled his hand down so she could see the wounds.

  “Your mother should wash that up and put a Band-Aid on it,” she said. “Don’t want it to get defected.”

  Remy chuckled. “I’ll get right on that.” Then he reached down and picked up the carrier, handing it to Ashley. “You should probably get Spooky in the new house so she can get used to it and not be afraid anymore.”

  “Okay,” Ashley said, moving toward the street. “C’mon, Spooky. You don’t have to be afraid; there isn’t any ghosts inside. Remy said he checked.”

  She crossed the street and headed up the walkway toward the brownstone, passing her father, who was still pacing and on the phone. He reached out and patted her head as she went by and started up the stairs, hauling the cat carrier.

  Halfway up the steps, Ashley stopped and turned, her gaze searching. “See ya tomorrow, Remy,” she called out, waving with her free hand before continuing on into her new home.

  Ashley’s father waved at him also, mouthing the words thank you as he continued with his call.

  Remy retrieved his bag of groceries and walked around the corner to Pinckney Street and the brownstone he shared with his wife. He was certain she’d be wondering where he had been all this time.

  And he would tell her about the little girl who now lived in their neighborhood, who had troubles with her cat.

  A little girl named Ashley.

  Remy was at Piazza, writing a note for Linda, when she showed up for her lunch shift.

  “Hey, you,” she said, warming him with her smile and then a kiss on the lips. “What are you doing here?”

  “I tried to call but couldn’t reach you,” Remy said. “I was leaving you a note.”

  “Phone died,” she told him. “I forgot to charge it. What’s wrong?”

  “I’ve got to take off for a bit,” he replied, watching the expression on her face change—partially annoyance a
nd maybe a little sadness. “Ashley might be missing, and I’m going to poke around, see what I can do to help.”

  “Oh, my God.” Linda moved closer, taking his hands and looking deeply into his eyes. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, not really telling the truth. Remy felt like a caged animal, eager to get out…eager to hunt. “But I need to get up there, flip over some rocks to see for myself.”

  Linda hadn’t met Ashley, the right time not having presented itself, especially with Ash getting ready to leave for school. Although she certainly knew how important the girl was to Remy.

  “This isn’t like her, is it?” she asked.

  “No, not at all.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  He held up the note he had been writing. “I was wondering if you could look after…”

  “Besides Marlowe,” she said. “That’s a given. I’ll zip over after lunch and take him for a walk; then I’ll pick him up once I’m done here for the night.”

  Remy reached into his pocket and removed a key, placing it in the palm of her hand. “Just in case you don’t feel like driving him back to your place.”

  She stared at the key for a moment, and then closed her fingers around it. “Hopefully you put all your valuables away,” she said, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

  “My stamp collection is locked up tight,” Remy confirmed.

  They smiled at each other then, but the intensity of the situation was too great, and he felt the oppressive weight of what he still had to do pushing down on him, his entire focus on finding that little girl who’d had problems with Spooky the cat just yesterday, it seemed.

  “Go on. Get out of here,” Linda prodded, as if reading his thoughts.

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” Remy said.

  “Long enough to find her.”

  And Linda released her grip on his hands, letting him go to work.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Remy opened his wings in the backyard of the building where Ashley and a friend from high school had rented an apartment. He wanted to be certain that no one was home before going in and poking around.

  He glanced toward the driveway and saw that the space reserved for the first-floor tenants was empty. All clear. He closed his eyes, summoned his wings again, and took himself into the apartment.

  The familiar smell of put-together furniture permeated the air as he unfurled his wings in the living room. He had taken Ashley to IKEA, just south of Boston in Stoughton, to get bookcases for her apartment, and had helped her put them together the day she’d moved up here.

  His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything unusual. The area still had that unfinished look to it, with boxes stacked up against the wall.

  Remy walked into the kitchen. A dirty frying pan filled with soapy water rested on one of the stove burners. The tiny kitchen table held several opened boxes of sugary cereals. He already knew about Ashley’s obsession with Apple Jacks, and gathered from the boxes of Honey Smacks and Cap’n Crunch that her roommate had similar tastes.

  He drifted down the short, dark hallway toward the bedrooms. Ashley’s was the first on the right. The door was partially closed and Remy reached out, pushing it open with a creak. The shades were drawn, but there was enough natural light shining through that he could see perfectly well. He was surprised to find Ashley’s bed made and the room tidy, having been privy to a few of her mother’s rants about what a slob she was. Maybe she was turning over a new leaf now that she was out on her own.

  Ashley’s desk was what interested him now. He pulled out the wooden chair and sat down, turning on her laptop. As he waited for it to boot up, he looked over the surface of the desk. On the corner was a framed picture of Marlowe, and he felt a lump start to form in his throat.

  Where did you go, Ash?

  He found a notepad with some names and addresses written on it and jotted them down on a pad he took from his jacket pocket. He had no idea if they were significant, but wanted to leave no stones unturned.

  The computer was ready, but just as he was attempting to get into Ashley’s e-mail account, the sound of a car door closing stopped him. He went to the window overlooking the driveway and saw a short, dark-haired young woman heading toward the door. Ashley’s roommate was home, and it probably wouldn’t have been good for her to find Remy inside.

  He summoned his wings again, closed his eyes, and was back outside in a rush of air. Then, after waiting a moment, he climbed the front steps and knocked.

  The girl appeared at the door, pulling aside a sheer curtain to peer cautiously out at him.

  “Hi. Melissa, isn’t it?” Remy said loud enough to be heard through the glass. “We met a few weeks ago. I’m Ashley’s friend,” he reminded her.

  It took a minute or two, but finally Remy saw recognition dawn in Melissa’s eyes, and she turned the lock.

  “Ashley’s missing,” were the first words she said as she opened the door.

  “I know,” Remy answered. “But I’d like to talk to you for a minute, if that’s all right.”

  “I’ve already talked to the police…both of them, campus and regular.”

  “I’m sure you have,” Remy agreed. “I have just a few questions of my own. I’m a private investigator and figured I’d do some poking around myself.”

  “Right,” she said. “Ash told me about that.” Melissa opened the door wider and motioned Remy inside.

  “Thanks. When was the last time you saw Ashley?” Remy asked, as she closed the door behind him and then led the way to the living room.

  “About four days ago. I was driving back to Melrose for the weekend, but she was staying here. She was hanging around, working on her computer.”

  “Do you know what she was doing?”

  Melissa shrugged. “Checking e-mail and stuff, I guess. I know she’d been looking for a part-time job and was making a list of places in the downtown area to try.”

  The mystery of the list was solved.

  “Had she been on any interviews?” Remy asked.

  “No, she was just getting together a list of places to apply. I think she was planning on starting to fill out applications last Friday, after classes…that last day I saw her.”

  “Did she talk about meeting anybody?” Remy chanced. “A new acquaintance…a guy, maybe?”

  Melissa smiled sadly and shook her head. “No…That was one of the last things we talked about. We both thought we were gonna meet all these cute guys up here, but we’ve been so busy, we haven’t even had a chance to notice anybody, never mind meet anyone.”

  Tears began to fill her eyes and she looked down at her feet.

  “You’ve been a great help,” Remy said quickly, trying to take the attention away from her emotion.

  “Thanks.” She sniffed loudly and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “Are you really a detective?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I really am,” Remy answered.

  “Ash used to talk about you a lot,” Melissa continued. “She always said that if she flunked out of school, she was going back to Boston to work for you…be your assistant or secretary or something.”

  Remy smiled. Ashley had never shown much interest in what he did. “Let’s hope she doesn’t flunk out.”

  “Where do you think she is?” Melissa suddenly asked. “You don’t think somebody took her or anything like that, do you?”

  It was obvious that the girl was frightened.

  “I really don’t know,” Remy answered quietly. “But the police are looking into it, and so am I.”

  “You’re gonna find her, right?”

  “I’m certainly going to try.”

  “She said you were, like, the best private eye in Boston,” Melissa said. “I guess now’s the time to prove it.”

  Remy nodded slowly.

  “You’re right,” he said. “Now is the time.”

  Remy had already been to three of the addresses on Ashley’s list. She had indeed dropped of
f copies of her résumé on Friday. Most of the people he’d spoken with had remembered her, and all said that economic times were tough and they had nothing for her. A few were curious as to why he was asking about her, and when he’d told them that she was missing, they suddenly had so much more to say—how polite she had been, what an impression she had made.

  They all hoped that she was all right, and so did Remy.

  The fourth address on the list was to the Junk Drawer, a consignment/antique store minus the snootiness. The aisles of shelves were stacked high with used books and National Geographic magazines, old toys, and dishes and glassware, and multiple racks were hung with vintage clothing. Madeline had loved stores like this, referring to them as a walk down memory lane, a place where the hunger for nostalgia could be fed.

  A yellowed, original movie poster for The Magnificent Seven hung crookedly on a wall, and Remy considered asking the price. He knew the film to be one of Francis’ favorites, although he hadn’t seen his friend since that business with the Garden of Eden. Remy had thought him killed in the Hell realm of Tartarus, but Francis had lived, although he was definitely different. Something had happened to him, but Remy hadn’t been able to find out exactly what that was.

  The Junk Drawer’s single proprietor was busy at the front of the store, discussing the value of some Star Wars action figures with a customer. As he waited, Remy caught the swish of a puffy brown tail as it quickly disappeared toward the back of the store.

  Figuring there was no harm in trying, he walked to the back, where he found a few overstuffed couches, a set of rattan chairs, a glass-topped coffee table, and one extremely large Maine Coon cat nestled inside a wicker hamper atop a folded red blanket.

  Remy stood very close to the basket and looked down at the cat, whose eyes remained tightly shut.

  “Hey,” Remy addressed the animal.

  The cat did not respond in any way.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you.” Remy poked the base of the hamper with the toe of his shoe.

  The cat’s eyes shot open, staring intensely ahead, but not at him.

  “Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”