Chapter 13 Next Try
NEXT TRY
The drive back to Spartanburg the next morning was uneventful and mostly silent.
George wasn’t looking forward to meeting Agent DeCapristo and Chief Savalle again, a sentiment Andi very obviously shared.
They arrived at the precinct at ten o’clock, going directly up to the chief’s office.
DeCapristo, the chief, and Luke were already waiting.
Luke didn’t waste any time and took over immediately.
“Good morning, Detectives Donovan and Hayes. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.”
Both DeCapristo and Savalle murmured something that could be considered a greeting if one was in a generous mood.
George simply nodded as did Andi. “As I’ve already mentioned to Agent DeCapristo and Chief Savalle, our respective bosses want us to work on this case together and are asking us to show the public a united front in an effort to restore people’s trust in law enforcement. ”
“That’s a cute little speech.” Agent DeCapristo snorted. “You did good in committing it to memory. I just want to make clear that any and all credit for solving the death of Judge Dunhill will go to me.”
“As charming as ever.” Savalle didn’t even try to hide his disdain. The thin—very thin—veneer of cordiality he had shown during their first meeting was gone. “So, you think my detectives made a mistake?” The words were said as a challenge.
At least he protects the people working for him.
George looked at Luke, who shrugged, leaving the stage to him.
“No. We don’t think so. Given the information and resources Detectives Shaw and Smalton had, they acted absolutely correct and their conclusions were sound.
At first glance, nothing suspicious stands out about any of the deaths we’re currently investigating.
If it weren’t for the rather unusual circumstances of Judge Dunhill’s, Trevor Asten’s, and Jagger Thomasin’s deaths, we wouldn’t have bothered coming here in the first place.
As of now, we still can’t say if those weren’t simply freak accidents.
But we do have access to additional information, and we plan on using said access to see if there was indeed foul play involved.
And if there was, you can rest assured that we’re doing everything in our power to find the culprits. ”
“And what exactly is that ‘additional information’?” Agent DeCapristo made the air quotes visible through her derisive tone.
Determined not to get baited into doing something stupid—like wringing her neck and that of Chief Savalle as well since he was already at it—George counted down from ten before he answered, “I’m assuming your boss has briefed you about what you need to know regarding Detective Hayes and me.
We’re not at liberty to discuss our resources.
We will keep you apprised of our steps in searching for the truth.
First thing after this meeting, we’re going to visit the houses of Suzie Monahan and Isabelle Hopper.
Hopefully, this will garner us some new insights. ”
Savalle’s brow furrowed. He seemed to have cooled down a bit or was plotting his next move, though George wasn’t sure and didn’t care. “Why are these two of interest? I thought there were no irregularities concerning their deaths?”
“Some new information has come to light since we were first here,” George explained smoothly.
The chief didn’t like being stonewalled as was evident by the sneer on his face.
Before he could start the next rant, George cut the meeting short.
“We’re on our way now. Should we need help or find anything, we’ll contact you.
” He nodded at every person present, darkening his look when he reached Luke, who gave an almost imperceptible shrug, then followed Andi, who was already back at the door.
They left the precinct and went to his Escalade.
Once they were seated, Andi typed the address of Isabelle Hopper’s home into the navigation system.
She had lived in Westgate, a popular neighborhood that featured a mix of single-family homes, townhomes, and apartments.
At least that was what Spartanburg’s official internet site claimed.
The morning traffic had decreased a bit, which meant they only needed fifteen minutes to get to the small house on a street lined with more of its kind.
George couldn’t detect much diversity here, but on their way, they had seen a more varied selection of living space.
According to the information Officer Randy Kaustrowitz had sent them this morning after George had contacted him about what they would need, the house hadn’t been changed since Isabelle Hopper’s death.
Since she hadn’t had a last will, her closest family was now squabbling over who would get what.
As sad as it was seeing people fighting who were supposed to at least get along with each other because of their shared blood, it helped their investigation.
The less upheaval between the event they wanted information on and now, the better.
Deciphering a single point in time was always tricky for Andi.
Murder was easy because the sudden entrance of a huge food source always left an impression.
But Isabelle hadn’t been murdered, and her corpse had been taken away almost immediately because a neighbor had heard the crash when the veranda collapsed.
George parked in the house’s short driveway.
“We’re being watched.” Andi was already going under but was still present enough to have a normal conversation.
“According to you, dear, we’re always being watched.”
Andi snorted. “Blobs.”
Blobs. Andi was farther in than George would have thought and liked at this point.
It was a bit too soon. He opened the car door to get out and used the time to glance around.
There was movement behind a window across the street.
An elderly man was staring at them from the garden two houses farther down.
A woman around sixty was glaring at them from the sidewalk where her dog was doing its business on a short, rather sad patch of grass.
She made no move to tidy it up. Instead, she kept on staring at them.
Andi ignored her and went straight for the small gate at the side of the house, leading into the garden.
George thought for a moment and then flashed the woman his badge.
The very last thing they needed right now was somebody calling the cops on them.
The woman scoffed then yanked a poo bag from her old-lady purse and turned her back on him. Crisis averted. For the time being.
George followed Andi through the gate, which was old and creaky and a perfect fit for the garden, which obviously needed some work and not just since Miss Hopper had died.
There was something about the place that screamed neglect over an ongoing period of time.
Be it the glimpses of chipped clay pots under a barrage of green on a bed of brown or the vines burrowing the bushes at the side of the broken veranda, with bits of timber sticking into the air like remnants of a long-gone city.
Well, for the termites, it was a city. The thought came suddenly like lightning across a dark sky.
George found Andi a few feet away from the veranda, his posture stiff, his gaze glazed.
When George reached him, he took his hands, ice-cold despite the sun beating down on them.
Several butterflies were flying drunkenly around Andi, a red admiral landing on his head.
A monarch was even bolder, choosing Andi’s nose as its perch.
The vibrant orange, white, and black colors were even more stunning against the background of Andi’s rather pasty complexion.
“Evil, evil, bad lady, needs to be gone, meanie, she should have been nicer, destroy her, she can’t stay here, I don’t want it, she’s bad, bad, hate her, never smiles, evil, eat the porch, good wood, good for the colony, for the queen, yes, the beams, so delicious, evil lady, meanie.”
“Andi?” George gently squeezed Andi’s hands in an attempt to lure him back.
For a moment, there was no reaction at all, only another butterfly, this one with a bluish tint and unknown to George, landing on his partner’s shoulder.
Then Andi heaved a sigh and the butterflies took flight, leaving them in order to dance around the daisies and petunias growing in happy abundance on the ground.
“Andi, everything all right?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” His partner was pale with a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Tell me something new.” George’s attempt at lightening the mood was met with a scoff.
“I meant an additional problem. Somebody was here and tampered with the termites. Somebody like me.”
“What?”
“Well, I’m not sure if the person is exactly like me, but they left an imprint on the butterflies. And I get the same vibe as with the hornets and the black widow. Another presence, meddling, directing. Somebody with thoughts that are foreign to arthropods. Blob concepts.”
“You didn’t get that ‘imprint’ at Thomasin’s house or at the lake?”
“Predators are different. And I was concentrating on them. Here I had to cast a wide net, so to speak. Should have done that sooner.”
George knew this kind of tone. “Hey, you were focused on the murderers. And casting a wide net when already knowing what happened and who the culprit is would have been a waste of energy.”
“Not a waste.”
“You couldn’t know that. Your health is the most important thing, Andi. Don’t forget that.”
“I don’t. It just pisses me off.”
This was such an Andi thing to say. “So, another person riding on the minds of arthropods?”
Andi nodded.
“Anything specific?”
A firm headshake.
“Well, that probably would have been too much of a break for us,” George muttered, which garnered him a brief grin from Andi. “Can we say that Isabelle, Jagger, and Judge Dunhill and his buddy are one case?”
“Yes. Definitely. The feeling was similar enough for me to be sure.”
“Anything else?”
“The porch was new. Isabelle had no reason to think it would be unstable. Whoever is behind this, they managed to speed the termites along.”
“Could you do that?”
Andi got a faraway look. Not because he was connecting but because he was thinking hard. “Yes. Though it’s madness. Diving in so deep to kindle their hunger, to be their hunger—I can’t imagine how I would come back from that.”
“Does this mean the person doing this is stronger than you?” It was a sobering thought.
And an alarming one. They had thought Andi’s geschenk was rather unique.
Finding out there was somebody else out there who might even be stronger and who apparently had no problem using their connection to kill was not on George’s list of pleasurable things to do.
“Not necessarily though possible. The images imprinted in the arthropods that are still around are chaotic like a stream of consciousness. Whoever did this either didn’t care to constrain themselves to the termites or wasn’t able to.
Given how jumbled everything is, how chaotic it was with the hornets and spider, I’m fairly sure the person is much farther gone than me. ”
George didn’t like the sound of that. Not because of the implications regarding their potential killer but how Andi viewed himself.
“You’re not gone at all.” He tried to inject as much confidence in his tone as possible.
It didn’t seem to be too successful because Andi showed him that half-smile he used when he tried to placate George.
“We both know I’m slipping down a steep hill, George. The only reason I’m still doing something resembling a controlled walk is you.”
“No! Don’t underestimate yourself. You were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself before I came along. You still are. I hate that you can’t see your own strength, dear.”
“Strength that is waning. Sometimes I feel like Yggdrasil with the dragon Nidhogg constantly gnawing at its roots. One day, I won’t be able to regrow faster than Nidhogg feasts and then the end is near.
” If it weren’t for the hint of despair in Andi’s voice, George would have made a joke about his knowledge of Viking lore, or at least that was what George assumed it was.
He’d never heard of Yggdrasil or Nidhogg before but the names sounded Nordic, at least to his ears that had been schooled by watching Vikings.
“You’re no longer alone. I will help you re-grow your roots.
” He drew Andi into a hug and kissed the top of his head.
The physical closeness assured him that Andi was still here, still part of the world George knew, the only world accessible to him, and he needed that more than he wanted to admit to himself.
Andi slung his arms around George’s waist and then rested his head on George’s shoulder in a gesture so full of trust it took George’s breath away and elated him at the same time.
There was still hope for Andi, still hope for both of them.
Because as much as Andi might dread being left one day by George, George had the same fear living in his chest, only he knew that when Andi left, he would be truly gone, and that George could not accept.