15. You Betta Work B!^&$ #7
“I don’t think we can,” Ronald said. “Not today, anyway. Today we just take stock of what we know.” He ticked points off on his fingers as he recalled what they’d learned from their sensory memories, “We know Rino argued with Emma-Lou about money, not murder. We know he left angry because he was left on hold with Weinus, Weinus & Ware. He was in a hostile mood but not homicidal. We know Emma-Lou chased him, or we think she chased him. In any case, she left work early. We know she had been piling up paper bags and there may be some kind of association with popcorn. We know something or someone turned this place into a marshmallow roast and that Emma-Lou hasn’t been seen since.
And a lot of stuff about our futures, which is informative but not relevant, not really.
Sorry Rebekkah but also thank you. Still super cool. ”
“And we know,” Suwarna added, “that whoever did this is still out there. Maybe feeling justified. Maybe feeling guilty. Maybe feeling nothing at all. Maybe cackling and waiting until midnight so they can return to behead, flay us alive, or tear us apart with tiny hands.”
“Comforting,” Rebekkah muttered. “Why tiny hands? Wait, whose tiny hands?”
“I’m not sure,” Suwarna assured them in an unsettling voice. “But that’s kind of what makes it even creepier right? Like a bunch of tiny hands instead of two regular sized ones tearing you limb from limb?”
They fell silent again, listening to the wind thread itself through the jagged gaps where windows had once been.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, then faded.
A crow landed on the top of the far wall, cocking its head at them like a judgmental usher at a funeral, then took off with a lazy flap of its wings, having lost interest in their sorry state.
“What do we do?” Japheth asked, turning to face the others. “If Rino’s not the villain, and I really hope that’s true, then who is? Do I need to interrogate him more? Do we break into Emma-Lou’s house? We’re coming up against more questions than answers.”
Ronald’s eyes dimmed as he tried to muster some encouragement but came up short, “We can’t do nothing.
If we do nothing, then whoever did this gets away with it.
Emma-Lou will still be missing. I can’t even imagine having to go to her funeral, if it comes to that.
And we will never know if we were right to trust the people we’ve trusted. ”
“And if we do something,” Carrington said cautiously, “we might poke a bear. A bear with many tiny hands that could tear…”
“We could start small,” Rebekkah interrupted, having heard enough about unseemly ends. “Interview people. Ask more questions. Quietly. We’re already known as being a bit outspoken and curious. No one will suspect a thing.”
“Except everyone,” Carrington shook their head. “They’ll be suspicious. The five of us, from WWJD, are going to go around town asking politely who has a can of gasoline in the back of their pick-up truck and some lighters in the glove compartment? That’s literally every second vehicle in Napanee.”
“Jesus didn’t do subtlety,” Ronald remembered. “He flipped tables in the temple! He multiplied fish and fed hundreds. He made water into wine for a wedding. Maybe this is our table-flipping moment!”
Japheth looked back at the husk of WWJD, the burned brick facade framing a slice of cloudy sky.
He thought about Emma-Lou in her office, her laugh echoing in the hallway, the way she’d said, ‘Trinity, you’re gonna shake this town up one remixed hymn at a time.
’ He thought about Rino’s mouth on his under the bridge, the way the world had narrowed to the press of lips and the smell of cologne and river water, and of Rino’s promise, and Japheth’s prayer that he really wasn’t a monster, simply misunderstood.
“We find her,” Japheth said, the words small but firm.
“We find out what really happened. We don’t accuse anyone until we know.
Not Rino, not the Ferraris. We follow the clues.
We use our five senses, and we find a way to keep singing and keep saving the souls of Greater Napanee.
Somehow. It’s what Emma-Lou would want us to do. ”
“And if whoever did this comes to stop us from asking questions?” Carrington asked quietly.
Japheth swallowed, feeling the ash-dry air catch in his throat.
They stood there a moment longer, five small figures in the ruins of a big dream.
A gust of wind swept through, lifting ash into a brief, ghostly whirl that danced between them and then disappeared.
For half a second, Japheth could have sworn he saw the outline of a woman in the grey cloud–a flash of bouncing curls, the gleam of eyes that had of late too often looked sad, and a long, outstretched arm pointing a finger.
He blinked, and it was gone. He glanced at Rebekkah, “Did you see…”
“No,” Rebekkah said quickly. “Yes. Maybe. William Shatner! Barnacles! Fudge Nuggets! Schnookerdookies! Fuck!”
They all glanced at Rebekkah and given the day they’d all had, allowed her some grace.
Carrington shivered, wrapping their coat tighter.
“I don’t like that this place still feels…
occupied,” they admitted. “Like the story isn’t finished, and we’re standing in the middle of the last chapter without a script. ”
Suwarna clicked her pen closed with the finality of a gavel.
“Alright,” she said, “we’ve trespassed, we’ve grieved, we’ve played sensory Clue.
Whoever set this fire is still a question mark.
Emma-Lou is still missing. Our livelihoods are in limbo.
I propose we leave before someone in uniform adds ‘arson scene tampering’ to our résumés. ”
They retraced their steps carefully, ducking under the tape one by one. At the edge of the lot, Japheth turned back for one last look. The station’s burned-out windows stared at him like empty eye sockets. He wondered exactly what they had witnessed.