The Magic Muffin
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“You have been in the city for only a few days and you already know this much, I suppose,” he said with a grin. “Let’s see what else you’ve learned.”
He handed over a small black card to each of us. As we studied it in silence, he spoke again. “It has now been three days since my wife was kidnapped, and as you can probably guess from the name of this club, magic is involved somehow—and not the kind that comes out of books.
The truth about magic is that there are those who use it for good and evil purposes, but no one knows how or why. There may be something more to all of this than I’m able to see, or I could just be missing something really big. Whatever the case might be, my daughter needs help from someone other than me.”
He paused for a moment then finished with, “I’d like both of you to think of this as your last chance at life, should you choose otherwise.”
We were quiet again.
Finally, I looked up and asked him directly. “Do you trust these people? Do they seem trustworthy?”
His smile broadened. “Absolutely!”
“Then why do you need our help?”
“Because I don’t know anyone else who is willing to take on a problem so great, even for free, and because I am too old, and too weak, and not strong enough.”
My heart went out to this man. His words were hard, but his eyes were clear and his face held only honesty and compassion. We had seen some pretty messed-up stuff already that day. This time, however, I felt a real responsibility in being present for whatever happened next. So I took the card that had been given me and said, “As long as we are taking risks in the city, we may as well go where it feels right.”
With a nod of thanks, he left us standing there alone in the dimly lit bar.
A little while later, after we ordered another round of drinks, a large redheaded woman walked through the swinging door and sat down beside me. She was young, maybe around twenty or twenty-five years old, but she looked mature beyond her years due to the number of wrinkles she carried everywhere on her body.
Her hair was cut short, and it seemed every strand showed signs of damage from being dyed, bleached, and curled into unnatural shapes. It also appeared that she never washed the same piece of clothing twice before putting it back on.
She smiled when she saw us looking over at her, saying nothing. Then suddenly, she reached across the table, pulled mine onto her lap, and placed it between her legs. She leaned forward slightly so that her elbows rested upon my thighs, and her fingers moved along the edge of the folded piece of paper.
After reading it carefully, she let out an exasperated sigh and began talking without any regard for our presence. “What do you make of all this? Is it really a job? Or is this guy playing games with us?”
Without taking my eyes off of hers, I told her, “I would bet everything I own that it’s a legitimate offer, but if I’m wrong, then I’ll gladly pay for the beer you drink tonight.”
At first, she didn’t look convinced. In fact, she looked downright mad. But then she laughed once and said, “Fine. As far as you’re concerned, you may be right and this might just be another stupid thing we got ourselves involved in.” And then, almost as quickly, she turned serious.
“But I think you have a lot more guts than you show often enough, Mr. Blackstone, so maybe we shouldn’t mess with the unknown.”
I nodded my appreciation for the compliment.
“And besides,” she continued, “you’re cute enough that I wouldn’t mind seeing you try to save my ass one day.”
My ears perked up when she mentioned this part of the conversation. “How did you hear about me? You’re not from New Orleans, are you?”
The question seemed to annoy her. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, turning away from me.
I decided to change the subject by asking her name. She told me in a clipped tone. “I’m called Daphne. Daphne Mancini.”
I shook my head at the unbelievability of hearing this name. “Daphne Mancini.”
She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and replied, “Yeah. What can I say? The world is full of mysteries.”
“No kidding.”
When she returned her attention to my folded slip of paper, I noticed something new written at the bottom in neat handwriting. My heart skipped a beat, as it always does whenever I see something unfamiliar. It read:
***
MISSING PERSONS
CALL FOR HELP FROM VICTIM’S FAMILY AND FRIENDS
TO BE DISCUSSED LATER WITH THE AGENT IN CHARGE
THE MISSING PERSON HAS NOT BEEN SEEN SINCE THIS MORNING AT NOON
WHEN A BANK ACCOUNT WAS OPENED TO PAY HER DAUGHTER’S GRADUATION COLLEGE FEES
IT TURNED OUT TO BE HIDDEN FROM VIEW BY ANOTHER PERSON WHO CLAIMS THAT HE OR SHE IS HER FATHER
THIS PERSON WANTS TO REMOVE ALL KINDS OF EVIDENCE THAT MAY SHOW UP WHEN CHECKS ARE MADE ON THIS ACCOUNT
SHE NOW SAYS THAT IF WE CAN CLEARLY DEMONSTRATE A RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN ME AND MY REAL FATHER, THEN HIS NAME WILL PROBABLY APPEAR AS GUARDIAN OF THE ESTABLISHMENT
AS FOR NOW, THIS PERSON WOULD LIKE TO KEEP HIS OR HER TRUE IDENTITY A SECRET UNTIL HE OR SHE MAKES CONTACT WITH THE POLICE AND THE FBI
SO PLEASE CALL BEFORE YOU GO TO THE OFFICE OF YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES AND ASK FOR A REPRESENTATIVE WITH THE PHONE NUMBER PROVIDED
THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE A CONNECTION BETWEEN WHAT SHE SAID ABOUT US AND THE MISSING PERSON
PLEASE TELL THE AGENT YOU SPOKE WITH TODAY TO TAKE EXTRA CARE WHEN READING ANYTHING WRITTEN BY THIS PERSON
As soon as I finished reading, Daphne took off like a shot out the front door. The bartender stopped me before I could get a word in edgewise.
“Sorry about your drink, man. Hope to see you back here again real soon.”
After I collected my thoughts and tried to gather myself together, I realized that we had lost two customers who paid their bills, so it wasn’t exactly as bad as it sounded.
Then, after taking care of the bar business and going out into the dark street, I made several phone calls until I finally got a connection on the first one. To me, it was the most important call, even though technically it was the last one I needed to make.
It took some time before I finally reached a person I assumed was an agent working under the direction of Agent Johnson.
He told me the story of the missing child and the information he had already discovered. Then he asked me to tell him about the conversation with the other woman—Daphne. When I described the whole exchange and what happened between us, the agent became visibly excited.
He then proceeded to describe the same scenario, except in relation to an elderly couple who were being chased from Louisiana to Georgia by a mysterious assailant. This couple had also disappeared without a trace since Sunday morning, and the husband’s name was James Smith.
The agent asked if I’d heard of any such occurrences. I didn’t know anyone personally who would have experienced anything similar. But he wanted to hear more about Daphne, so I began telling him about her and how I came across her in the bar. The agent interrupted me with a question. “You think this girl is related somehow to these other people who’ve disappeared?”
“Yes,” I replied, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to me sooner. “And I’m sure there’s a link.”
“That seems pretty obvious,” he said, sounding surprised.
“But how can I be positive?”
“Maybe it will all come clear when we get together with Agent Johnson tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Can’t this wait for a few hours? We’re closing in just another half hour—”
“If that’s what you want, then yes. Just give me a call sometime in the next twenty-four hours.”
With those final words, he hung up. Now I wondered if I should go straight home or not. I decided to make one last attempt. I went back inside and called my boss and informed him of the situation. With his permission, I stayed open a bit longer than planned until eight o’clock.
Then I hurriedly locked up the doors behind me and headed home as fast as my legs would carry me. It was already after ten o’clock, and I felt exhausted as I climbed the stairs to my apartment.
I turned on my bedside lamp and dropped onto it, pulling the covers over my body, but within moments I fell asleep. As always, I dreamed about something I couldn’t understand. I had only begun to wake up when my cell phone rang, startling me.
There was a message from Agent Johnson: Please come alone. We’ll meet at nine o’clock outside the office of Detective Thomas, and please bring your own car. Don’t say anything to Detective Thomas if you talk to him tomorrow, and don’t worry about bringing any documentation with you.
We’ll explain everything once you’ve met with me. And remember, no matter what happens, keep your mouth shut until we give you the signal to let loose with everything you’ve been holding back.
When I read the last sentence, I knew the answer to a question that had puzzled me since yesterday. This wasn’t an official visit, so why did Agent Johnson need to meet with me alone? Something big was going down, and it meant business. I set my alarm clock to go off in thirty minutes so I could take a quick shower before setting out.
***
I WOKE UP BEFORE MY ALARM SIREN RANG ITS PULSE, SO I HAD LESS THAN AN HOUR TO GET READY. As much as I was dreading today, I didn’t dare cancel our appointment with Agent Johnson. If she was involved in whatever this thing was that was happening around us, then she might become a liability.
At least now we both had a common goal: solving the mystery before we could become victims ourselves.
My mind was racing with thoughts when my eyes opened, and I stared into my dark, still room. My head pounded like someone had kicked me hard in the chest. A single thought kept repeating itself over and over, like a record stuck in a loop. I couldn’t escape it no matter how much I tried. I needed to find the truth.
The doorbell rang while I was in the bathroom. That was too early. No one was supposed to be here yet, so I pulled on my robe and stumbled to the front door. As soon as I opened it, Agent Johnson greeted me with a smile and two coffees in paper cups. She handed one of them to me and said, “We’ll need a lot more caffeine than that today, so let’s go grab a bite before we drive to the station.”
She led the way out of the apartment building and across the parking garage, where she stopped briefly at the driver’s side of a sleek, black luxury sedan. When Agent Johnson got in, I followed suit, sitting behind her as we drove away from the lights of downtown.
As I sipped my coffee, Agent Johnson filled me in on what they were trying to discover. “There are four people missing in this city,” she said. “They’re all young women, and their bodies have been dumped at the same place—a park near where a major highway passes through the city.”
“What do you mean ‘dumped’?”
“It means they haven’t been found, and police aren’t even sure if they died naturally or not.”
“Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”
“Not really, no.”
That surprised me.
“Why not?” I asked. “Aren’t they searching for them?”
“The bodies were discovered on the third day of each disappearance. Police think that whoever killed them is either very good at concealing their presence, or else they know exactly when and where to look because nobody has ever stumbled upon any clues.”
Now I remembered what my father had told me earlier: “This isn’t a serial killer who keeps trophies. These girls weren’t strangled, shot, or disemboweled. Their deaths are more likely suicides, but we need to rule out foul play until we can confirm it.”
“Are you sure you want me to work on these cases alone, Agent Johnson? I may have some ideas about what’s going on, but I’m not an investigator myself. I only know about crime scene procedures.”
“Don’t worry about it, Dr. Cross. Just tell us what you know and leave the rest to me. You’re the only person I trust enough to talk to at this point, and I think we need a different perspective than yours.”
We parked in front of a small diner just a few blocks away from where my dad and I had first met Agent Johnson, and she ordered for the both of us: eggs over-easy with ham, bacon, and hash browns, with orange juice to drink. While we waited for our food, Agent Johnson said, “Do you remember what the police officer called you yesterday? ‘Doctor.’ Do they call you by your real name at work?”
“No. Actually, I’ve never used my full name. They don’t even know my birth certificate is faked.”
“Oh, right, you told me something like that yesterday.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “You probably heard everything anyway.”
Agent Johnson nodded in agreement. “Okay, let’s get back to the missing women. How did you come up with the idea that there might be a connection between them and you?”
I gave her a quick summary of events since I’d arrived at the morgue yesterday. By the time I finished, the waitress brought the rest of my breakfast and set it in front of me. As soon as she walked off, I took another sip of my coffee and asked Agent Johnson to elaborate on a particular part of what I’d told her.
“So, as I understand it,” she started, “you say that all four victims appear to have been dead for several days before their bodies were dumped at the park.”
“Yes, at least three weeks for each body.”
“And you believe they were strangled, then their throats cut open?”
“Right. Each victim had one slit throat, which would indicate strangulation.”
“Have you ever seen anything similar before, Doctor?”
I thought about what Agent Johnson had said and answered carefully, “Actually, yes. There’s another case we worked on recently that involved a woman being strangled then decapitated, except this case happened in New York.”
“Did you find any connections between that case and these killings?”
“Not yet.” I paused again, thinking. “If they’re trying to keep themselves hidden, wouldn’t they use some kind of disguise? Maybe a mask or makeup?”
“Masks and costumes could certainly be useful. And they could easily hide a face. The problem is that none of the victims are wearing masks when we find them. In fact, they’re completely nude, so it would be impossible to cover any distinguishing features.”
I was still trying to figure out how someone could kill someone and not leave behind a single fingerprint when I remembered my father mentioning fingerprints. “Wait a minute! What about prints left on the bodies? Could they have been covered up or washed away?”
“We’ve looked for that sort of thing, and so far, we haven’t found any. But maybe they’re using latex gloves instead.”
“Could be.”
After a moment, I continued, “Or perhaps there’s another explanation. For example, maybe they’re not actually killing people. Or maybe the murderer didn’t take part in the actual murder. That would explain why we haven’t found any signs of him or her.”
“How could that be, Doctor? Would somebody who committed a crime on his own also make sure that nobody saw it happening? And if it wasn’t their doing, who did?”
“Maybe they’re watching someone die and taking pictures, leaving no physical evidence. It seems unlikely, but it’s not impossible.”
As we ate, I noticed that Agent Johnson was getting distracted again; she kept glancing nervously around the diner, as though expecting someone to walk through the door. Her nerves were making me uncomfortable. “Is everything okay, Agent Johnson? Don’t you want to stay at the diner?”
“Yeah, fine. I’m just worried about my daughter’s safety.” She turned to me and said seriously, “Dr. Cross, do you mind if I ask you a question? Is this something we should worry about?”
“Why don’t you tell me?”
She hesitated for a moment and then said quietly, “It’s just that you’ve already had some pretty unusual experiences lately, and we can’t be sure who to trust. Have you ever thought about telling the media what’s really going on?”
I couldn’t deny that this bothered me a little, especially since it seemed like such an obvious move. “Yes, I’ve thought about it. But until we know more details about the murders, and how this is connected with me personally, I’d rather not talk to anyone else outside of the FBI.”
“That’s good enough for me, Dr. Cross. But let’s try to keep this quiet for now, huh?”
The two of us got ready to leave the diner, but the hostess stopped us before we could go anywhere. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she called loudly over her shoulder, “but Mr. DeBolt is here to see you.”
Agent Johnson’s eyes went wide in surprise, and she turned to look down the hallway to our right, toward where the manager’s office was. “What about him?” she asked quickly.
“He wants to apologize. He’s in the office waiting for you guys.”
“Well, come on then.” She grabbed my arm and pulled me after her, and we headed back to the office, walking slowly. “Who in hell is he apologizing to?” I wondered.
The hostess opened the door for us and we stepped inside. To my relief, I spotted my boss behind the desk and waved to him. “Hey, Jack! We’re back.”
Jack smiled at us and stood up from his chair to greet us. “Good work, both of you. Your reports are thorough and very helpful, so thank you. I’ll get them faxed off to headquarters immediately.”
I nodded and smiled, but Agent Johnson’s attention remained focused on the man sitting in front of Jack. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “That guy looks familiar. Is he your cousin?”
“No, Doctor Cross is correct. This is a friend of mine whom I brought into the investigation.”
“A friend? You invited a stranger in here, knowing that he might recognize us?”
“He came to me because I suggested it, and he was eager to help.”
“You knew him before or something?”
“We’ve only met once briefly at a party, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “This is a complete breach of security! How could you be so reckless?”
Jack ignored her for a moment, turning his attention back to the man. “Richard, you know Agent Johnson. I believe you know Dr. Cross as well. Please extend your apologies to both of them.”
“Of course, Jack.” The man rose unsteadily to his feet and approached the desk, holding one hand out to each of us. “Doctor Cross, I’m terribly sorry I frightened you with those threats. They were never meant to be taken seriously, and I hope you can accept my apology.”
“Thank you,” I said politely. “And I think it’s time everyone forgets about this unpleasantness.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. “I’d prefer to be left alone from here on out if that’s all right.” He gave the three of us a reassuring smile and sat back down in his seat again.
“I guess that’s settled,” I said, but I looked at the other woman with concern. “Are you all right, Agent Johnson? Why would Richard come here?”
“It’s none of your business,” she said sharply, and then she glared at the two men. “But if he hadn’t come looking for us, I would have gone to him. Do you understand?”
“Certainly,” said Jack smoothly. “Do you need any help packing a bag or anything, Agent Johnson?”
I saw her stiffen a little and turn to face the door. “Let’s go home,” she mumbled, and the four of us walked out together.
The End