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The forest came to an abrupt end at the edge of a vast, dead clearing. Nestled within the verdant green faerie forest sat a festering, necrotic sore of bare earth. A dead space roughly the size of two football fields surrounded an enormous rotted tree, twisted, black, and slumped to one side. Looking at it made Tammy imagine an old crone, stooped forward, exhausted from a long walk.
“Where’s Annie?” whispered Allison.
“This is the gateway to the dark fae realm.” Tammy pointed at the tree. “This is where it gets dangerous. As soon as we cross over, we’re likely to be attacked pretty much constantly. If they figure out what our goal is, they’re going to go bonkers trying to stop us.”
“Sounds like we should avoid contact if we can.” Allison held up a ‘wait a moment’ finger. “Let me do some magic to keep us hidden.”
Tammy nodded. “Okay.”
“Umm.” Allison glanced over at her. “I’m guessing you know how to open the doorway if Maple can’t bring herself to touch it?”
“Yeah.” Tammy cracked her knuckles. “I got it.”
Chapter Nine
The Marvels of Modern Technology
I spend an hour or so at the computer back in my office.
As much as I’m able to tell from the world of social media plus a handful of the proprietary investigative software tools I’ve got subscriptions for, Gemma Fulton is an orca. By that, I mean she has no natural predators. Okay, I’m pushing that metaphor a bit too far. In all seriousness, there are no signs she’s involved in anything likely to result in unsavory people deciding to specifically target her for harm. That old cliché about a person not even having speeding tickets applies. This woman seems like the type of person who’d faint at the mere thought of keeping a library book too long.
Yeah, I know. Nothing about the case suggested she’d been the target of an assassin or anything like that. I’m merely checking all angles because I got locked into thinking this guy she met at the bar is a serial killer who’s already done the deed. Part of my frustration is feeling unprofessional at jumping to such a conclusion. The other part is worried that such a rapid leap is coming from my intuition.
A good investigator does not go into a case already believing they know what happened. That leads them to search for things to explain what they’ve already decided to be true rather than actually huntforthe truth. Hence, me throwing a little time at checking out alternate theories.
No luck.
So, I do the next best thing that comes to mind: I head out to Norbert’s.
It’s a trendy-looking place in South Anaheim. The relatively plain, rectangular shape of the building with its own dedicated parking area makes me think it used to be a Blockbuster Video store. Or maybe an automotive garage. Spirit Halloween isn’t the only entity out there that devours failed retail property. Regardless of what it used to be, the new owners gussied it up with black and gold trim. Know how some people consider Target to be a ‘ritzy Walmart?’ This place is basically a ritzy TGIF without all the junk hanging on the walls.
The doors are faux onyx, with giant gold Ns for handles.
They’re much lighter than they appear to be, causing me to momentarily feel incredibly strong as I damn near rip the right-side door off its hinges and send it flying into the manicured bushes. Ever go to pick up the milk bottle from the fridge expecting it to be full, but it’s barely got a mouthful left? Yeah. Makes you feel super strong for a few seconds until you start questioning which of your kids put so little milk back in the fridge rather than just drinking it.
I’m looking at you Anthony.
Inside, overpowered air conditioning provides a welcomed reminder of just how much I’ve changed: my body is no longer tomb cold. Yay me. Blood vamps would feel right at home in here. Wonder if they show up to… chill.
A spritely little blonde woman standing behind the hostess podium darts over to me. She’s gotta be an inch shorter than Paxton, but is quite obviously older than thirteen. Come to think of it, Pax is going to hit fourteen really soon. Ack. I don’t remember her birth… May 27th. Whew, that’s it. Eep. That’s coming up fast. Couple weeks away.
I intend to make up for all the lackluster birthdays in her past. Maybe we’ll go big... like all day at Universal Studios of Knott’s Berry Farm, or maybe we’ll do a slightly less grandiose type event and just stay home and have a big party. Maybe I’ll pull Renae aside for a conspiratorial discussion about what she thinks Pax would like more.
Anyway, back to working.
“Hi. Welcome to Norbert’s,” chirps the little woman wearing a name tag that reads ‘Kari.’ “We’re between lunch and dinner service now, but the bar’s open. If you’re hungry, there’s a selection of hot food there, but it’s not the full kitchen. We start seating for dinner at five.”
I smile at her. “Thanks. I’ll head over there.”
Kari, seeming pleased with herself, returns to her station. The bar is on the left past a large archway. It, too, is decorated in minimalist modern with lots of black and gold. Unsurprisingly, there aren’t many people here at a few minutes to four in the afternoon. There’s a man working the bar. He looks about thirty, give or take a few years. Neat black hair, on the tall and scrawny side. Gemma’s friend Heather referred to the bartender as a ‘she.’ Doubt this guy was here the night Gemma disappeared, but I still try. Maybe he waited tables.
“Hey,” I say while approaching the bar.
“Afternoon.” Terry, according to his name tag, nods once in greeting. “You don’t look like you’re here to get an early start. What can I help you with?”
“Heh. Thanks. No, I’m not looking to get day drunk.” I pull out my phone and open it to two photos of Gemma. One of her with the person of interest. And one with her squish-hugging both of her cats—who do not appear terribly pleased by this—under her chin. “I’m an investigator looking into a missing person. Do you recognize this man or woman?”
Terry leans closer, studies the photos for a moment, then shakes his head. “Can’t say I do. Looks like this was taken at night. I work the day shift. Still, don’t know the guy or gal. And pretty sure I’d remember someone bringing cats in here.” He chuckles.
