Allegories of the Tarot (29 page)

“He?
Her
husband?
And you still haven’t told me about Kinter.”

“Three days later, this Darly woman was all over the
news.
Missing person.
Her mother appealed to the
press, certain her son-in-law murdered her daughter. Kinter was a detective
working the case, but he’s not your typical cop. He’s…special.
Sees things.
Old country Romas would call it a curse, but,
in his line of work I can see how it would come in handy.” Rosemarie traced the
offending card with one wrinkled finger, tapping the upturned face of the woman
pictured before speaking again. “He’s not with the police anymore, but he would
want to know.”

Antony stared at his grandmother, trying to work through
her reasoning for thinking this particular body was a missing woman from a
decade-old case. “I’m sorry, Nana, but I don’t see why you think this is that
Darly woman or why Kinter would need to know.”

Rosemarie waved him off without bothering to explain
further and dialed the number on the card she still clutched.

***

“Ms. DellaPenna—”

“Mrs. DellaPenna,” Rosemarie snapped at the young
policeman, giving him a look that never failed to make her children quake.

“Uh, sorry.
Mrs. DellaPenna, we’ll
go around the side so there’s no need to track in and out of your house. We’ll
need several hours to have forensics go over the scene and remove the body and
the surrounding area. Looks like it’s been there a long time, though, so it’s
not likely we’ll find much. If you need counseling, the department has a grief
counselor and you can make an appointment—”

Rosemarie interrupted the officer once again, “I’ll be
fine, young man. I’m no daisy.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you will be fine, but just in
case, I’ll leave the card with your grandson.” Officer Daly handed the card to Antony
while Rosemarie rolled her eyes at him.

Antony’s disapproving glare was wasted on her as she
surged to her feet to greet someone behind him. He turned from the officer to
see his grandmother wrapping a man nearly twice her size in a hug.

Officer Daly hissed under his breath, but rose to shake
the newcomer’s hand.
“Kinter.
What brings you here?”

Rosemarie turned to the
officer,
her eyes crinkled at the edges in the way Antony knew meant she was up to no
good. “Tommy is an old family friend. I’d feel so much more comfortable with
him around while there are strangers on my property.” She rested a wrinkled
hand on Daly’s arm, patting him gently like he was an anxious dog. “It’s
important for the old and helpless to feel safe, don’t you think?”

Daly barely managed to refrain from choking at the
absurdity of Rosemarie being helpless, but nodded his agreement before
promising to update them later and leaving the room.

“I see you’re as feisty as ever, Rosemarie. You must be
Antony,” Tommy said, extending his hand toward Antony as Rosemarie ushered him
to the couch.

“Yes, sir.
And you’re Mr.
Kinter, I suppose.”

“Okay, okay. We’ve had our meet and greet. Let’s get on
with things.” Rosemarie nearly bounced with impatience from her perch on the
edge of her seat. “It’s Darly whats-her-name. I know it is.”

“Yeah, you mentioned that on the phone, but what makes
you think it’s her?”

Rosemarie waved her hand at the question she deemed
unimportant and continued, “Have you kept track of that husband of hers over
the years?”

“He’s remarried and living on State with the woman he
was seeing at the time his wife went missing. Always thought he’d done her, but
there was no evidence he abused her, as you thought, let alone killed her.”
Tommy leaned forward, drumming his fingers on the thick file he carried. “I dug
through my old files after you called. Did you know Andrew Marsden’s mother
owned this house ten years ago?”

Rosemarie’s shriek answered the question for him.

“I’m going to call my old partner then head over to see
Marsden. Will you be okay here with people tearing your back yard apart?”

“Of course I will,” Rosemarie spat. “I want to go with
you, though. Want to see the bastard squirm. Maybe you could rough him up just
a little.”

“Nana!”
Antony stared at his
grandmother, trying to reconcile the bloodthirsty woman in front of him with
the cheek-pincher he’d always known.

Tommy laughed and passed the file off to Antony. “Rosemarie,
stay here. You can’t leave right now. God knows what they’ll do to your house
if you’re not around to keep them in line. Antony, you keep her occupied. Let
her pore over the file until I get back.”

Rosemarie and her curses followed Tommy to the door, but
he shooed her back to the living room with assurances he’d be back as soon as
he saw Marsden.

***

Tommy punched Jackson’s number into the phone as soon as
he left the porch.
“Hey, Jackie.
It’s Tommy. Remember
the Marsden case? Missing person, ten years back? I think the remains on
Brewster are connected. I’m going to see the husband. Call me.”

When he pulled into Andrew Marsden’s driveway, the phone
rang, Jackson’s number at the precinct blazing across the screen. He tossed the
phone into the glove box, knowing he’d catch hell for it later if Marsden
decided to file a complaint. Three minutes later, he sat in the Marsden’s
living room opposite a woman more over-improved hooker than suburban housewife.

“I’d like to speak to your husband, Mrs. Marsden. There’ve
been some developments in the case of his first wife’s disappearance.”

Tanya’s face registered her shock, a feat, considering
the fresh injection sites on her forehead and cheeks. “Haven’t you people put
Andy through enough? She’s been missing for ten years. She’s legally dead,
according to the court.”

“As it turns out, she may be more than just legally
dead. A body was discovered at the house your mother-in-law owned when Darly
went missing.”

“So? What’s that got to do with Andy?” Tommy winced as
she leaned so close he choked on the cloud of perfume surrounding her. “If a
body was found at his mother’s old house, ask his mother about it. Or ask the
people who have lived in that shithole since she moved out.”

“It’s a less shitty neighborhood since she moved out.
Nice folks moved in once the trash moved out,” he finished with a wink.

“How dare you come into my house and talk to my wife or
about my mother like that.” The voice from behind Tommy bellowed like the ass
he knew it belonged to.

Tommy pointed at the scar along his left temple.
“Brain injury.
Getting shot in the head fucked my impulse
control.”

Andrew opened his mouth to respond, but before he could
get a word out, a screech reverberated through the house.

“You get her this time,” Tanya whined. “She’s your
mother and I’m tired of hauling her cranky ass around.”

“Shut up and get her. I have to deal with this.” Andrew’s
face reddened in anger, but he looked no less thrilled at the thought of his
mother joining the conversation than his wife did.

Turning back to Tommy, he said, “I thought this was
wrapped up years ago. Why are you here?”

“Well, it is wrapped up. Or something is, at least.
There’s a body in pieces in your mother’s old back yard. They even found a
smashed-in skull wrapped up with a sparkly red bow. Know anything about that?”

“Should I?”

“Considering your wife disappeared, you liked to smack
her around, you had a stand-in ready, and your mother had the patio put in
about three weeks later, I’d say yes.”

Tanya re-entered the room, pushing a wheelchair. A sour,
wrinkled face looked at Tommy from the squeaky confines of the seat.

“Who are you?” The nails-on-a-chalkboard voice didn’t
sound any better up close than it had from the top of the stairway. “Why are
you harassing my son? Is this about that bitch again?”

“I’m Tommy Kinter. I worked the case when your
daughter-in-law disappeared, but I don’t believe we ever met. This morning, a
body was discovered at the house you lived in when Darly went missing. Don’t be
concerned, though, ma’am. Your alibi is still on file from ten years ago.”

The old woman stared at Tommy for several seconds before
responding. “Don’t be ridiculous. If your department hadn’t been run by someone
getting it up the ass from my priest, that bingo alibi would have been thrown
out a long time ago. Still can’t believe the dumb girl had to say goodbye to me
before leaving my Andy—on his birthday, no less.”

Three faces gaped at her, but she didn’t notice.

“I know you’ve had to wait a long time, Andy. Really, I
thought you’d find your gift much sooner—you were always so good at finding
your presents—but you just had to hire someone else to lay my patio instead of
doing it yourself.
Happy birthday, ten years late.”

***

Jennifer lives on Virginia's coast and spends most of
her time copy editing for some amazingly talented authors. When not editing for
her business, The Independent Pen, she usually writes, sews, or knits in the
few minutes she can snatch that aren't filled with homeschooling or chasing the
kids and pets. During the summer, she can often be found at one of the many
local beaches, books and knitting in tow.

Jennifer is currently at work on a series of novellas,
Brides of Sam,
and a mystery novel (or series
of novels). You can find her here:
about.me/jenniferwingard
.

***

THE WORLD

Phoenix

By Laura Eno

The altar shimmered with candlelight, the mirror sitting
behind it multiplying the glow. Renae glimpsed her reflection, younger-looking
than truth, unhappiness a burden crushing her soul—or it would be if she still
had one. Her hand fluttered over a deck of Tarot cards resting between two of
the pillared candles, waiting to reveal the answers to her unspoken questions.
If she dared to ask.

The only other item on the altar, the only item Renae
truly possessed amid the flotsam of trivia collected over the years was an
hourglass. No bigger than a bottle of wine, its sands held in stasis, time
arrested as it waited for her to finish what she’d begun. She traced the fine
woodcarvings cradling the glass in place with one fingertip, feeling the energy
swirl through her blood.
Calling to her.
Wondering if the waiting had come to an end.

She thought maybe it had. The cards would confirm it.

Some would tell
you there are no vampires. Don’t listen to them. They’re real. Maybe not the
bloodsucking kind, but others do exist. There are worse things that move
through the shadows.
Through the light, as well.
I’m
living proof of that, although living might not be the best description.

Renae picked up the Tarot deck and turned over a card,
placing it on the altar in front of her.
Yes,
a foolish beginning.

***

The summer intern job at the UN was a dream come true
for Renae. Fresh out of school, the offer of travel lured her away from the
familiar and into an exotic landscape normally reserved for those with more
experience in avoiding pitfalls. Intoxicated by it all, Renae soon blundered
into the wrong situation, collapsing at a party with only vague memories of her
time there. Even now, knowing what happened, she had a hard time recalling more
than fragments.

I remember the
sting of venom coursing through my veins. The fire as it tracked through my
belly, forcing me to the edge of death before allowing me to return. The horror
of awareness when I awoke, even without realizing what I’d become.

The
thirst dogging my every footstep, almost too strong for me to deny.
Almost.

She awakened in an elegant bedroom, the dark paneled
walls displaying paintings of fair maidens ravished by mythological gods or
some such nonsense. The images gave her the creeps so Renae cast about for
another distraction while her fogged brain cleared enough to figure out where
she was and what had happened.

Her body ached, head throbbed. No answers materialized,
only an insatiable thirst irritating her throat, moisture-starved tissue
begging for liquid.

The door opened and Renae’s breath caught. The man
glowed in the light from the doorway, his red hair seeming to catch fire from
the sun pouring through the windows behind him. He crossed the floor, coming to
stand by the bed. Renae’s blood quickened in her veins with each step he took.
Suddenly, nothing mattered but him.

“You’re awake.” He smiled and took her hand in his. She
hadn’t remembered being so cold before but he exuded
a
delicious
warmth and she didn’t want him to let go. The burning in her
throat eased as well.

“I am called Fen. Do you remember what happened to you?”

Renae shook her head but images flashed through her mind
like tiny explosions threatening to engulf her if she concentrated for too
long. Images of this bright man, bathed in darkness, drawing toward her. Cloaked
shadows in the background writhing like cobras attuned to his every move. A
woman’s laugh echoed in her head.

“It’s all right. I’m here to help you.”

The flashes left and Renae smiled up at him, her stupor
increasing into euphoria. His next words didn’t mean much at the time. She
would come to understand slowly, much later. Not that it mattered. It was
already too late.

“You’ve been reborn to serve me,” his voice crooned,
clasping Renae in a sexual heat too powerful to resist. “I will teach you,
nourish you,
provide
for you. In return, you will deny
me nothing. To betray me would mean your death.”

Fen held a hand to her cheek, stroking it as a lover
would. His energy fed her until Renae felt strong enough to sit up. As he broke
contact and stepped away, the thirst crept back again. Renae felt the lust to
drain another human of their energy and stared into Fen’s eyes, now lit from
within as if a fire blazed there.