A MYSTERIOUS AROMA (Alethea, The Circus Sleuth Book 2) Page 3

  He raised both eyebrows for a moment. “If I did not know better, I would assume that is a tactic of theirs—put the first person in jail and then see if anyone objects.” Clearly, there were some past misgivings speaking out of him, and she could imagine an old circus man like Virgil to have had less favorable run-ins with the police, especially some decades ago.

  “Now, Virgil, I don’t know what you were planning on, but your chances for seeing your, ehm…jade tiger ever again are even slimmer if you refuse to even tell law enforcement that they should be looking for it.” While she was attempting to be the voice of reason, she also realized that it was mostly futile, just like last night. The stubborn will of the old man had a way of pushing through all resistance.

  “There cannot be so many jade tigers in this country! I firmly believe that we can find it ourselves.”

  “You mean you firmly believe that I can find it myself,” Alethea corrected.

  “That’s about the size of it.” He suddenly grinned. It was his turn to put his hand on hers in a gesture of consoling warmth.

  “You know, I still don’t have a license.” It seemed prudent to object with something that actually lay beyond her powers.

  “Nonsense! You don’t need a license! You’re simply a woman with an interest in jade tigers.” He seemed weirdly enthusiastic about that. Her thoughts drifting away from the moment, Alethea tried to imagine herself as someone of that description.

  She suddenly envisioned herself as some variety of bond girl with a vaguely Asian dress and makeup, smoking a cigarette in a casino bar and radiating so much sex that a virgin couldn’t enter the room and stay one. “I’m looking for the jade tiger, Mr. Bond,” Alethea whispered breathily as a test. She figured that was too much agency already.

  “What are you doing?” Virgil inquired politely.

  “I need a date,” she sighed.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need a date,” she repeated. “Fruit of the Phoenix dactylifera, or date palm.” Alethea was overcome by the sudden, intense desire to stare at her hands.

  “I’m old, but I’m not senile.” He smiled. “So should I tell you about the Date—jade tiger?”

  Date Tiger sounded like a particularly effective method to get out of a boring first meeting.

  “Sock it to me,” she demanded. She had put her fingertips neatly together, after noting that she needed to cut her fingernails, perhaps repaint her nails, and put some lotion on. It was fascinating what one could learn by staring at one’s hands long enough.

  “The jade tiger is an ancient Chinese work of art. It is a mighty symbol of celestial power! With it—”

  “Look, you can spare me that. I’m not part of the audience. Just tell me what it looks like and how I could ever hope to find it.” The parchment itself did not give her too much, and the writing on it—while not Chinese—was unintelligible to her. It had been written a long time ago by someone whose hand must’ve been injured.

  Virgil was unperturbed, and he raised his arms. It seemed his fatigue only made him more determined to make a big ritual out of it. “With it, the mystics of ages past called on gods and spirits, working countless miracles. Now that the jade tiger has been lost, it may have fallen into the hands of evil! The purity of the jade must not be tainted! If it is used to bring evil into this world, its blessing could be lost to humankind forever.”

  “Just let me get my hat and whip, Sir Connery.” Alethea was sure he didn’t really hear her.

  “The jade tiger is one of its kind. I doubt anyone who sees it would forget it so easily. I kept it in a hidden compartment of this very trailer, and it had been there for decades until someone stole it last night. The greatest mystery is, of course, who knew about it, because I surely didn’t tell anyone.”

  The young woman nodded. Finally, something substantial. “Well. I don’t really have a good starting point for that, but I’ll see…and I can’t promise you anything. I’m still certain that it would be much better to actually involve the police. Especially since your figurine was stolen around the time Abel was injured.”

  “They already know that was no accident,” he reassured her. Her eyes widened slightly, but then she smiled. “I have some sense.” He sounded grumpy. “And when you visit Léa and Abel, greet them for me.”

  “I’ll greet them from everyone, and I’ll pick up some flowers and stuff.” She held out her hand. It took Virgil a few seconds, but then he put money in it. “Thanks.” Alethea got up from her seat. “Show me where exactly you kept the jade tiger.”

  It took him over two minutes to actually move things out of the way to reveal the hiding spot, and then half a minute to remove the covering. There was barely any room in the secret compartment, and the figurine would have probably filled it completely. From her impression, there was no way anyone could have detected it accidentally. The thief—or thieves—must have known it was there.

  A strange smell drifted into her nose, and she sniffed repeatedly. She couldn’t really describe it, so she looked at Virgil. “What’s this smell?” He sniffed, then shrugged.

  “I don’t smell anything out of the ordinary,” he answered. She stared at him for a bit longer, then stuck her head back to smell the air again. There was definitely a faint aroma of something. It reminded her of America’s sudden sniffing of the air. The smell wasn’t unpleasant, and there it sat, lingering where the jade tiger had been.

  They both stood up. “I’m sure if the police were here, they would check for fingerprints, and that kind of thing,” Alethea suggested. “But it’s okay. I understand. It’s your jade tiger, anyway. You can decide how badly you want it back. I’ll go visit Léa and Abel now, if that’s alright.”

  Virgil nodded, and then patted her on the shoulder. “Thank you for your help, Letha. It really means a lot to me.” He was entirely sincere, and for a moment some wetness glistened in his eyes. Her expression softened, and she smiled back at him.

  “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything, Virgil.”

  “I believe in you. See you later.”

  “Okay. Better take good care of your jade monkey.” She left the trailer. The morning air was brisk but refreshing, and Alethea allowed herself a pause to take it all in. She considered stopping by to see America again, but the last visit made her rethink that. The hospital trip took precedence, especially since it required extensive preparations.

  And yet, before any of that was realized, she saw a policeman lingering in front of the Faucheux’ trailer and decided to go talk to him. It was Officer Mullins from the day before.

  “Officer Mullins, good morning,” she greeted him. He slightly lifted his cap and nodded to her.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” He had looked perfectly bored, and it was visible he welcomed the chance to talk to another living being, especially of the young female variety. A careful smile spread under his bushy mustache. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m interested in the investigation, actually. Is there anything you can tell me?” Putting on her sweetest and most innocent expression, she peered at him with big eyes. He slowly shook his head.

  “Afraid I’m not authorized to tell you anything about the case right now, miss.” Alethea raised an eyebrow. She had asked a simple question, and instantly she was miss instead of ma’am. Still, she wasn’t sure about the exact implications of that. “You can read about it in the papers.”

  That’s when he stepped out of the trailer—Special Agent Holden Westley, FBI. To say that Alethea was surprised was to put it mildly. To say that her jaw dropped would be too much, because it was only for a second and nobody saw, or so she told herself. “Agent Westley!” she exclaimed.

  “Ah, Miss Thwaite,” he said calmly. Of course, he was completely unperturbed by this sudden reunion. “I figured it was your voice that I heard from the inside. Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He looked around and towards the sky. “Just cold enough, not too cold, quite refreshing all in all. I couldn’t wish for better weath
er this time of year, and the farmers won’t complain, either.”

  She had almost forgotten how it was to talk to Holden Westley. He spoke while walking towards her, and finally, they shook hands and greeted each other with a polite “good morning.”

  “So you know each other. That’s new.” Officer Mullins couldn’t resist reminding them that he was part of the conversation, too.

  Holden half turned towards him, putting his hands behind his back. “Ah yes, I made the acquaintance of this young woman in the beautiful town of Sparta, during the investigation of a different case. I can only say I visited that town once upon a time, Officer Mullins, but the nearby Beef Storm Steakhouse delivers to the full extent of its name, if I might say so.” With a determined nod, he underscored his final point.

  The agent turned back around to Alethea while Officer Mullins stood there with a blank expression on his face. He hadn’t been dealing with Westley for too long, and obviously wasn’t used to him going off on tangents…if they could even be called that.

  “Ehm…excuse me if I ask so directly, but…why are you here?” The initial, almost instinctive happiness to see her friend again was taken over by worry. As Agent Westley himself had said when bidding her good-bye, his appearance was a bad sign. He followed death, after all.

  “Oh, forgive me, Miss Thwaite. There is nothing to worry about. That is, nothing further. I was in town for a different case. I mean, I was in the area when late last night, a murder took place, unrelated to this—entirely unrelated—but I took the time this morning, when I heard that your circus was here, to look into this vicious assault upon your friend Abel Faucheux.”

  A friendly smile spread on his face. “It was such a coincidence that I thought I should come here, take a look, perhaps meet you and some of the others again. How is everyone, Miss Thwaite? And how are you? I hope that aside from this, no tragedy has befallen anyone?”

  She realized then how great a blessing the presence of Holden Westley was. He had an air of unbreakable confidence, like he knew that things were always turning out well in the end. Unshakeable. It made her smile, too.

  “I’m very well, thank you. And everyone else is well, too. I mean, aside from this, I suppose…and a few injuries, but that’s fairly commonplace.” At least it was commonplace when Tony and Rob were left unsupervised. “I don’t want to put you on the spot, Agent Westley, but if you could tell me about the case…?”

  “Ah, yes. A man named Lionel Horne. He was found dead inside his home after midnight last night. A peculiar case. Luckily he was found very soon—” Holden stopped himself as he realized something. “Of course, you meant the other case. Abel Faucheux. Yes. We’re not sure. He could not identify a perpetrator, and our hopes that anyone else inside the circus was a witness are low.”

  “They would’ve already said something,” Alethea reassured him. Officer Mullins used that moment to step forward. Now that Westley was speaking to her so openly, he figured that he might as well do the same.

  “We’re looking to outside witnesses now. The trailer’s got no evidence at all,” he said. “It doesn’t look too good, if I may say so. Although maybe the victim’s gonna remember something more.” All three of them exchanged looks. It seemed like the conversation was mostly at an end.

  “Miss Thwaite, it was nice to meet you again. While I am in the city, feel free to call on me, unless it obstructs my duties.” They shook hands again. “I’m confident that this city has a few restaurants I will definitely visit, and if you have time, we could discuss the investigative life over food sometime.”

  Last time it had been more of a work thing, but this time it almost sounded like he had asked her out on a date. In his own way. “I’ll remember that. If you are still around, I’m going to visit the hospital with some flowers and a card, and the two of you can also put your signatures on it,” she suggested.

  The two men exchanged looks. It was Officer Mullins who spoke a little faster – “Of course, Miss Thwaite. We could also give you a ride to the hospital. It’s on the way…kinda.”

  “That would be great, Officer Mullins.” Alethea smiled. She hadn’t previously realized she was this popular with law enforcement personnel. Surely, that was an advantage for any aspiring private investigator. “But first I’ll need to pick up those cards and flowers.”

  Chapter IV

  “Thanks again for taking me.” Alethea got out of the patrol car and smiled back at the two men inside. “See you around!” They waved back at her, then drove off. She stood there for a bit, looking after them, contemplating if they’d had driven her if she was a boy. Then she shook off the thought and turned towards the front entrance of the hospital. She already knew where she had to go, so this was just a formality of signs, elevators and hallways.

  Most people didn’t like hospitals, but Alethea didn’t feel the same. While on some level it was true that they were mostly a domain of death, despair and diarrhea, they also bore the more positive reflection—that of a house of healing. The white walls and white clothes, the implements shiny like polished chrome, the ever-present smell of disinfectant, and all the breadth and depth of the human condition—it was a different world, a bit like the circus, perhaps. That must have been why she enjoyed it.

  Abel Faucheux was awake when she visited. As he was lying in his bed with a pale face, his sister was beside him. They were not speaking when Alethea entered. Theirs was a comfortable silence, an understanding that didn’t need words. She saw in their eyes that they were all they really had in the world—the greatest permanence to hold on to—and Léa, for one painful moment, had thought herself alone.

  “Hey, guys,” Alethea began, speaking softly. She carried a big bouquet of flowers and a similarly large card—it had needed a lot of room so everyone could fit their names on it—and also a bag with some things she picked up from the Faucheux’ trailer. She gave everything to Léa and went to give Abel a small hug. “It’s so good to see you like this. I was so worried. Everyone was.”

  Abel waved it off. “I’ll just need some time to recover. Just some time. I’m a bit woozy but alright. I just can’t move at all.” He gave a crooked half smile. Léa had already gotten a vase and put the flowers on the table, and she put the card in Abel’s nightstand.

  “He can’t read anything right now,” she explained, and looked at her brother with some worry. He nodded slowly. If Abel looked a bit befuddled, his sister looked even more in need of a rest than him. She wasn’t as sluggish in her movements, but she hadn’t had a change of clothes since before she started working on packing things up the day before.

  “I got hit quite hard. Everything’s kind of fuzzy and out of focus. It all gives me motion sickness.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s easier to just lie here with my eyes closed and…I’m not so tired, but…seems like all I can do is rest.” He pulled his blanket up to his neck, like a tortoise withdrawing into its shell.

  The two women looked at each other. “You shouldn’t forget to take care of yourself, Léa,” Alethea chided gently. She pointed at the bag she brought. “There’s some things inside there for you, too. You won’t get a good night’s sleep outside of your trailer. We can leave together.” Léa looked over to Abel with doubt in her eyes. “He’s looking okay, isn’t he?”

  She nodded slowly. “I suppose he is,” she conceded. “Let’s just stay here for a bit longer, okay?”

  “Of course. I just arrived, after all…and I never heard what actually happened from either of you.” It wasn’t just that she was curious, although she was also on a secret mission. She directed the question at Léa, because Abel seemed largely out of commission.

  After they sat down together at a nearby table, she began, “Abel had gone ahead of me into the trailer, and I followed him. It couldn’t have been more than ten or maybe fifteen minutes. When I came in, I found him lifeless on the floor. He didn’t react at all, and I thought he wasn’t breathing.” The intense shock she had felt at that moment still shone
through in her expression and tone. “Maybe it was because I was already panicked. I called 911, tried to resuscitate him, but I was afraid of moving him. Sometimes they say you could unintentionally injure people further, so then I ran to you and told you…somehow I thought…I don’t know.”

  Léa lurched forward, leaning her elbows on the table. “I didn’t really see anything, but I can tell you Abel’s version of the story.” She glanced up at Alethea. “He said he remembers that there was something strange with the trailer when he came home, but he didn’t pay it any mind. Then when he wanted to go into the bathroom in order to shower, well… he says a shadow blocked his vision and then he received a blow and woke up in the hospital.”

  “A shadow blocked his vision?”

  Léa nodded. “That’s what he said…like someone suddenly put absolute darkness in front of his eyes. But he didn’t feel anything, like a bag or something, and there wasn’t anything there afterwards.” She lifted her body slightly up again with her arms, and then leaned back in the seat, sending her sleepless brother a glance.

  Alethea had hoped that these two would give her something to go on, but the story didn’t sound like anything substantial. “What was strange with the trailer, exactly?”

  The answer was a shrug. “Maybe it was some sort of instinctual feeling that something was wrong? I suppose humans sometimes have those and don’t know how to interpret them. There was something strange in the air, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The doctors say that with a blow on the head like this, sometimes memories are obstructed, and that he may get a more clear image of the past once some time has gone by, or perhaps if he goes back to where it happened after he is released.”

  That was something, but in all probability, Virgil didn’t want to wait that long to leave. The only thing that really kept him in this town now was the missing jade tiger, and it might take over a week until Abel could safely be released—too long for the impatient old man.