I could tell, no connection to religious Satanism, this junk seemed to attract the young (pissy
adolescents in particular) and the mentally ill.
I was reading up on the more horrific manifestations of this mystical acting out, when
the phone rang next to my elbow, and I almost went through the roof.
By the time I had regained composure enough to pick up the receiver, I hoped it might
be Jake, but nope, the hoarse whisper on the other end belonged to Angus.
“Adrien…?”
“Angus, speak up,” I said crisply. Hours of reading about the Sign of the Beast, ritual
torture, crazed killers, and equally crazed Christian fundamentalists made me less patient
than usual. “Where are you?”
“I don’t think I should tell you,” Angus mumbled. “It might not be safe.”
Swell. Was he anticipating my being captured and tortured for the information?
I heard a sound like a garbage disposal running in the background, which I deduced
was Wanda, offering Angus guidance. “Adrien, I think I made a big mistake,” he said.
That made two of us. “What mistake?” I asked.
“I think I left stuff at my place that might help them track us.”
“Angus, who is ‘them’? Wait – forget I asked. You’ve got to call Jake right away.”
“I’m not talking to him,” Angus said in perfectly normal and perfectly hostile tones.
“He doesn’t give a rat’s ass what happens to me.”
“Listen to me carefully,” I said. “They dug up a body in Eaton Canyon a couple of days
ago. A kid named Tony Zellig. Jake’s part of the investigation. He wants to talk to you.”
“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” he said desperately. My heart sank. Not: “I don’t
know anything about any body!” Not: “Who’s Tony Zellig?”
“Adrien, please listen. If they find that letter, they’ll be able to hunt us down.
Adrien…are you there?”
“I’m here.” I rested my forehead on my hand, tried to think. “What letter?”
“The letter from my Grampy. I left it right there on the coffee table. If they find it,
they’ll make the connection…”
His Grampy? How desperate a character could a kid be who called his grandfather
“Grampy”?
“Do they know where you live? Maybe they’ve already found it.”
I didn’t actually believe that. I had trouble with the idea of this vast conspiracy of evil,
but I felt the panic vibrate all the way down the line. He covered the mouthpiece and held a
quick, ragged discussion with Wanda.
“If they –” His voice cracked. He tried again. “If they’ve found out, we need to know.”
The minute hand of the clock on my desk clicked onto the six. Eleven-thirty. I listened
to Angus breathing noisily on the other end. He sounded like he was about to cry.
“How do I get in?” I asked at last.
“There’s a key in the dragon planter on the back porch.”
“Terrific,” I said briefly. “No one will ever think of looking there.”
“Are you going to do it?”
“What exactly am I doing? Retrieving a letter that has the location of your secret
hideout?”
His voice wavered. “Why are you mad at me?”
“Because you knew –” My voice shook. I cleared my throat and said, “Because you
knew about the body in Eaton Canyon. Because you’re involved in a goddamned murder –
and I helped you –”
He slammed the phone down.
I pressed Call Return. The number flashed on the screen. Up north somewhere, judging
by the area code. I scribbled the number. Then I called Jake’s cell. It was busy. I pressed
pound to leave a message.
“It’s me.” I explained briefly, recited Angus’s phone number. “He asked me to pick
something up for him at his place. It’s eleven-thirty now. I should be over there by twelve, if
you want to have a look around without a warrant.” I pulled the address out of my Rolodex,
read it over the phone, and hung up.
* * * * *
The house was at the end of a cul-de-sac. One of those rectangular, L-shaped, ranch-
style fixer-uppers that no one had bothered to fix up. It looked blue in the moonlight. The
peeling shutters were blood-colored – possibly brown in the light of day. The attached
garage sagged wearily on its posts. Apparently Angus wasn’t a big fan of HGTV.
For laughs, I walked to the front and tried the door. It was locked. I decided that was a
good sign. I went around to the side gate. It was also locked, fastened by a padlock on the
other side of the tall wooden gate.
I weighed alternatives while keeping an eye on the neighbor’s house. The windows
next door were dark, so either no one was home, or everyone was in bed. I didn’t fancy
getting snagged for burglary by a Citizen’s Watch zealot. I suspected Angus might not stay
around long enough to back my story.
It was a reasonably sturdy gate. I decided it could likely take my weight. I grabbed the
top board and swung myself up. I balanced briefly, the fence groaning in alarm. I jumped,
landing in tall grass and weeds.
That had been easier than expected. I went around the corner of the house. The patio
was a cement slab with a metal canopy. There was a selection of withered plants in pots of
various sizes. I didn’t need to use my flashlight thanks to the dramatic full moon, and the fact
that the dragon planter had been painted in Day-Glo paint. Red eyes glowed eerily from the
shadows. I poked around in the dirt and dead twigs, found the key, and opened the sliding
glass door.
I stepped inside. The place stank of cigarettes, marijuana, garbage…
“Hello?”
The sound of my voice was startling in the emptiness of that house. I’d never been
anywhere that felt so cold, so devoid of life.
I turned on the nearest lamp.
The room looked shockingly ordinary. No horned goat image painted on the walls, no
altar festooned with black candles.
The shag carpet looked like Rice-A-Roni, and there was an assortment of furniture
ready for the Goodwill, although, come to think of it, that was probably where Angus had
purchased it. The coffee table was littered with music magazines and bills. There were
several books on astrology, including a copy of The Devil’s Disciple by Garibaldi.
There was also a copy of The Satanic Bible. I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise at
the sight of the ominous scarlet pentagram on that stark black cover.
After a moment I shook off my inertia, telling myself not to be an ass. I quickly
