Thomas Sniegoski - In the House of the Wicked

Ashley’s desk was what interested him now. He pulled out the wooden chair and sat down, turning on her laptop. As he waited for it to boot up, he looked over the surface of the desk. On the corner was a framed picture of Marlowe, and he felt a lump start to form in his throat.

Where did you go, Ash?

He found a notepad with some names and addresses written on it and jotted them down on a pad he took from his jacket pocket. He had no idea if they were significant, but wanted to leave no stones unturned.

The computer was ready, but just as he was attempting to get into Ashley’s e-mail account, the sound of a car door closing stopped him. He went to the window overlooking the driveway and saw a short, dark-haired young woman heading toward the door. Ashley’s roommate was home, and it probably wouldn’t have been good for her to find Remy inside.

He summoned his wings again, closed his eyes, and was back outside in a rush of air. Then, after waiting a moment, he climbed the front steps and knocked.

The girl appeared at the door, pulling aside a sheer curtain to peer cautiously out at him.

“Hi. Melissa, isn’t it?” Remy said loud enough to be heard through the glass. “We met a few weeks ago. I’m Ashley’s friend,” he reminded her.

It took a minute or two, but finally Remy saw recognition dawn in Melissa’s eyes, and she turned the lock.

“Ashley’s missing,” were the first words she said as she opened the door.

“I know,” Remy answered. “But I’d like to talk to you for a minute, if that’s all right.”

“I’ve already talked to the police…both of them, campus and regular.”

“I’m sure you have,” Remy agreed. “I have just a few questions of my own. I’m a private investigator and figured I’d do some poking around myself.”

“Right,” she said. “Ash told me about that.” Melissa opened the door wider and motioned Remy inside.

“Thanks. When was the last time you saw Ashley?” Remy asked, as she closed the door behind him and then led the way to the living room.

“About four days ago. I was driving back to Melrose for the weekend, but she was staying here. She was hanging around, working on her computer.”

“Do you know what she was doing?”

Melissa shrugged. “Checking e-mail and stuff, I guess. I know she’d been looking for a part-time job and was making a list of places in the downtown area to try.”

The mystery of the list was solved.

“Had she been on any interviews?” Remy asked.

“No, she was just getting together a list of places to apply. I think she was planning on starting to fill out applications last Friday, after classes…that last day I saw her.”

“Did she talk about meeting anybody?” Remy chanced. “A new acquaintance…a guy, maybe?”

Melissa smiled sadly and shook her head. “No…That was one of the last things we talked about. We both thought we were gonna meet all these cute guys up here, but we’ve been so busy, we haven’t even had a chance to notice anybody, never mind meet anyone.”

Tears began to fill her eyes and she looked down at her feet.

“You’ve been a great help,” Remy said quickly, trying to take the attention away from her emotion.

“Thanks.” She sniffed loudly and ran the back of her hand under her nose. “Are you really a detective?” she asked.

“Yeah, I really am,” Remy answered.

“Ash used to talk about you a lot,” Melissa continued. “She always said that if she flunked out of school, she was going back to Boston to work for you…be your assistant or secretary or something.”

Remy smiled. Ashley had never shown much interest in what he did. “Let’s hope she doesn’t flunk out.”

“Where do you think she is?” Melissa suddenly asked. “You don’t think somebody took her or anything like that, do you?”

It was obvious that the girl was frightened.

“I really don’t know,” Remy answered quietly. “But the police are looking into it, and so am I.”

“You’re gonna find her, right?”

“I’m certainly going to try.”

“She said you were, like, the best private eye in Boston,” Melissa said. “I guess now’s the time to prove it.”

Remy nodded slowly.

“You’re right,” he said. “Now is the time.”

Remy had already been to three of the addresses on Ashley’s list. She had indeed dropped off copies of her resume on Friday. Most of the people he’d spoken with had remembered her, and all said that economic times were tough and they had nothing for her. A few were curious as to why he was asking about her, and when he’d told them that she was missing, they suddenly had so much more to say-how polite she had been, what an impression she had made.

They all hoped that she was all right, and so did Remy.

The fourth address on the list was to the Junk Drawer, a consignment/antique store minus the snootiness. The aisles of shelves were stacked high with used books and National Geographic magazines, old toys, and dishes and glassware, and multiple racks were hung with vintage clothing. Madeline had loved stores like this, referring to them as a walk down memory lane, a place where the hunger for nostalgia could be fed.

A yellowed, original movie poster for The Magnificent Seven hung crookedly on a wall, and Remy considered asking the price. He knew the film to be one of Francis’ favorites, although he hadn’t seen his friend since that business with the Garden of Eden. Remy had thought him killed in the Hell realm of Tartarus, but Francis had lived, although he was definitely different. Something had happened to him, but Remy hadn’t been able to find out exactly what that was.

The Junk Drawer’s single proprietor was busy at the front of the store, discussing the value of some Star Wars action figures with a customer. As he waited, Remy caught the swish of a puffy brown tail as it quickly disappeared toward the back of the store.

Figuring there was no harm in trying, he walked to the back, where he found a few overstuffed couches, a set of rattan chairs, a glass-topped coffee table, and one extremely large Maine Coon cat nestled inside a wicker hamper atop a folded red blanket.

Remy stood very close to the basket and looked down at the cat, whose eyes remained tightly shut.

“Hey,” Remy addressed the animal.

The cat did not respond in any way.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” Remy poked the base of the hamper with the toe of his shoe.

The cat’s eyes shot open, staring intensely ahead, but not at him.

“Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?”

“Leave me,” the cat growled.

“Sorry to disturb you, but I really need to ask you a few questions,” Remy told the annoyed feline. “Then I promise I’ll leave you alone. All right?”

The cat slowly lifted its furry head to glare at Remy with eyes the color of jade.

“There was a girl in here a few days ago,” Remy began. “She came in to ask for a job, but I can’t imagine that she wouldn’t have seen you and tried to make friends.”

“No girl,” the cat said, closing its eyes.

Remy kicked the base of the hamper again.

“She would have been really nice, and probably would have scratched behind your ears and told you what a pretty cat you were, or something like that.”

The cat raised its furry bulk, arching its back with a hiss; then it paused, seeming to think about what Remy had just said.

“Nice girl,” the cat said after a moment. “Did scratch… felt good.”

The Maine Coon sat and turned its face up to him. “Yes,” it said.

“So you remember her?”

“Didn’t hear?”

“Yeah, I heard,” Remy said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, reminding himself why he thought that most cats were assholes. “Do you remember if anything out of the ordinary happened while she was here? Anything that you might’ve noticed?”