Chapter Twenty-One
Twenty-One
Tariq was looking especially handsome when he picked her up that night. They exchanged a quick hug, and she realized he smelled even better than he looked. Harper was never sure how he managed it, working with jellyfish at the aquarium all day, but it was undeniable.
Tariq’s Camry was old but functional, and he kept it cleaner than she kept her Scion. But it reminded her of Joel’s comment about Tariq needing money. She pushed the thought aside. A lot of people needed money. Relatively few of them turned to murder to get it.
As they drove, Harper told him about her visit to Sigrid’s garden, and what she had learned from the podcast about the traffic in body parts.
“So I went online and ordered a finger bone. A proximal phalanx, to be precise.”
He looked at her, surprise written on his face. “A human finger bone?”
“Allegedly.”
“Why would you want a human finger bone?”
“I don’t. I’m hoping to learn some information about the seller.”
“You’re a private detective now? Visiting witches with poison gardens, ordering body parts off the internet…? You know the old saying, ‘Curiosity killed the cat’?”
“I know it. I also know how it ends: ‘But satisfaction brought it back.’ Maybe I am too curious for my own good. That’s what my father always used to tell me. But I feel like I have to do something. You don’t?”
“I suppose I was hoping the police would track down the truth, since it’s their job and all.”
Harper looked out the window. They weren’t far from the tattoo parlor she had noticed the other day. And that reminded her of the shrouded mirror in the Perles Mansion, and what she had seen in that shiny surface.
She was lying to Tariq. It wasn’t simple curiosity urging her on. It was fear of what she had seen. What she thought she had seen.
“Speaking of body parts,” she said. “Do human eyes reflect light the way some animals’ eyes do?”
“No, not usually. We don’t have the tapetum.”
“Huh.”
“Do I want to know why you’re asking?” Tariq said, as he parked in front of the tavern.
“Probably not.” Harper thought back to the woman she had seen on the grass. How she had looked up toward Harper’s apartment, her eyes seeming to glow. Thinking back on it now, Harper was half convinced that she really had dreamed the whole thing.
Xochi gave them a wave as they walked in, and Harper waved back. So this is how it happens, Harper thought. Making friends and acquaintances, one by one. A witch here, a tavern owner there…
Two friends had beat them to the bar and nabbed their favorite booth in the back: Gabe Ruiz, the performing arts professor from Monterey College, and Penny Paule, a woman who worked with otters at the aquarium.
Gabe was Harper’s closest friend and ally on the faculty, a stocky fellow with a trim beard and plenty of tattoos.
Harper did not know Penny well, but the otter wrangler seemed smart and caring, and she was pretty, with an athletic build and long red hair she kept swept back in a neat ponytail.
Harper suspected Penny might have a bit of a thing for Tariq; her hazel eyes were often on him, and she laughed a little too loudly at his jokes.
But Harper had not perceived an equal response from Tariq.
He appeared to treat Penny with the same warmth and kindness he showed everyone—with the notable exception of Delilah Mason’s brother.
After they exchanged greetings and ordered drinks, the talk turned to the work at the aquarium.
From the outside it seemed like being an otter wrangler would be an ideal job, full of unabashed cuteness, like those videos of people taking care of baby pandas.
But the conversation consisted primarily of complaints about low salaries and administrative hassles.
Like any job, Harper supposed. She loved doing research and enjoyed giving lectures, especially when the students were engaged and responsive.
But there were plenty of dreary aspects of her position: the endless grind of grading papers and exams, dealing with the occasionally unpleasant or even hostile student, the disappointment at finding plagiarism in students’ work, attending endless faculty meetings, assessing job candidates, and negotiating academic politics. The good always comes with some bad.
At a lull in the conversation, Harper turned to Gabe. “I heard Delilah Mason was in a stage production at Monterey College?”
“Yes indeed, years ago,” Gabe said. “We had that beautiful, shiny new performing arts center, so the college decided to do some outreach to the community. Delilah was one of those who took part, but we haven’t been in touch since. Don’t really run in the same circles.”
“And Joel Aristide was in the production as well?” Harper asked.
“Joel, the ghost tour leader?” Gabe nodded. “Yep. He’s a real character. Surprisingly good at learning his lines, though he wasn’t all that reliable—he had a drinking problem. I hear he got sober a while ago.”
“What was Delilah like?” asked Harper.
“Why are you so interested?” asked Tariq.
“It’s strange, everything that’s happened,” said Harper. “I feel sort of connected to her, even while not knowing much about her.”
“I know we aren’t supposed to talk ill of the dead,” Penny said. “But the Delilah Mason I knew was a kooky conspiracy theorist and a first-class bitch.”
That brought an abrupt halt to the conversation.
After a moment, Gabe murmured, “Better than a second-class bitch, I suppose. If you’re going to be unpleasant, then commit.”
“What makes you say that, Penny?” Harper asked.
Tariq jumped in. “Delilah was opinionated. And never afraid to speak her mind. And it’s true that in the last few years she fell down some conspiracy rabbit holes—”
“Such as not believing in science,” Penny said.
“She had an issue with the pharmaceutical industry, yes. But she was a good person, deep down,” Tariq replied.
Penny snorted and took a deep quaff of her beer.
“So, funny story,” Gabe began, apparently hoping to quell the tension at the table. “Guess who burst into our theater storage facility yesterday? Knocked over a bunch of sets and props.”
“The fire department, again?” asked Tariq.
Gabe nodded. “Scared the hell out of our prop master.”
“Again?” Harper noted. “It’s happened before?”
“It has,” Gabe said. “They were doing a training exercise and thought the building was empty.”
“Don’t they check on that sort of thing first?” asked Penny.
“You would think so, right? But it’s kind of like the Wild West out there on the former military base,” Gabe said.
“Most of the old army buildings are abandoned, and evidently no one knows who’s in control of what, or who’s doing what on any given day.
At least they didn’t set it on fire without clearing it first.”
“Thank heavens for small favors,” Tariq said.
“Speaking of abandoned buildings,” Harper said. “A couple of my students talked me into exploring the old barracks. Claimed someone had seen a box with symbols on it.”
“This the vampire thing?” asked Gabe.
“The alleged vampire thing,” said Harper.
“I heard about that,” said Gabe. “I assumed it was a Halloween prop.”
“I suspect it’s actually an old medical cabinet,” Harper said. “The kind doctors used back in the nineteenth century. Not sure where the vampire story came from.”
“Why would a medical cabinet be in an abandoned building?” asked Penny.
“I was wondering that, myself,” said Harper. “The old military base seems full of mysteries. What was it like growing up out there, Tariq?”
“Oh yeah, do tell,” said Gabe.
“Pretty much like you’d expect,” Tariq said with a shrug. “Nothing special.”
“Don’t you know?” Penny asked the table. “Tariq doesn’t talk about his past.”
“You’re right, now that I think about it,” said Harper.
“I’ve tried plying him with drinks, still no dice,” said Penny, her eyes on Tariq. “The man has a hollow leg, as my dad used to say.”
Tariq just smiled.
Harper noticed a DJ was setting up. She had forgotten it was karaoke night. Great.
“Karaoke time!” Gabe said. “Who’s with me?”
“Good Lord, I can’t with this sort of thing. I honestly don’t know how you can stand it,” Penny said to Gabe. “A man of your discerning taste in music.”
“One never knows when one might come across a hidden gem,” said Gabe with a smile.
“Better your ears than mine,” Penny said, getting to her feet and tossing back the remainder of her drink. “I much prefer the whines and whistles of the otters, however discordant they might be. I’m out of here. Thanks, all.”
Part of Harper longed to go with her, but she stayed out of loyalty to Tariq. Besides, Gabe was telling funny stories about an off-off-Broadway production of Peter Pan that he was involved in long ago, and the wine—and lack of sleep—was making her feel mellow and lazy, loath to leave her seat.
For the next hour, they listened to one singer after another attempt to put their own spin on some classics.
A middle-aged, paunchy man grabbed the microphone and crooned “My Way,” and though he was mostly off-key, Harper admired his gusto.
Two young women sang “Oops!…I Did It Again.” Their singing was also awful, but they were as cute as could be.
A gaggle of drunken fraternity brothers attempted a rap song but couldn’t keep up with the lyrics.
Xochi showed off a decent set of pipes as she belted out “At last, my love has come along…”
The singing and cheering and good-natured jeering made conversation difficult, which seemed to suit Tariq fine.
What was up with him tonight? Harper wondered. She wanted to ask Tariq about what Joel had said about his need for money, but this wasn’t the time or place. Besides, he was unusually testy this evening, out of sorts. Evasive, even. This wasn’t like him.
Tariq rolled his eyes, and Harper saw that the next singer up was Asher Mason. The man with the Paul Newman eyes.
“That’s Delilah Mason’s brother, right?” Harper asked.
Tariq nodded. “The one and only.”
He started singing a Tom Jones song, “Delilah.”
The crowd chimed in on the chorus.