Adam Drake - Blackout

As we climbed the stairs to the little alcove, which protected the front door from rain, Fairfax tipped his cap to the large woman. “Good afternoon,” he said.

“Afternoon,” she said and watched us intently.

I exchanged a glance with Fairfax who kept his expression neutral. Once we had stepped into the alcove Fairfax knocked on the door. After several minutes, he did so again. I tried peering through the nearest window but the curtains blocked my view.

Still no answer. Fairfax tried the doorknob, but found it locked.

“We should try back later,” I suggested and Fairfax nodded.

As we descended the stairs the large woman in the window said, “Looking for Elicia?”

“Yes, do you know if she is home?” I said.

“I don’t think so,” she said. Her stirring never stopped. “Might want to try at her work. It’s a bookstore.”

“We did. The owner said Elicia had sent word yesterday morning she had taken ill.”

“Oh, well then, she probably went to be with her sister up in Creekside. She’s always going there.”

“When was the last time you saw here?”

The woman screwed her face up. “About two days ago. Didn’t look sick to me but what do I know? I’m no doctor.”

I thanked her, and we returned to stand next to the buggy. To Fairfax I said, “I’d like to get a peek inside.”

Fairfax shrugged. “Afraid kicking the door in might upset the neighbor, and she’d chase us around with a rolling pin. Besides, we can’t go in without justification. Calling in sick doesn’t cover that, I’m afraid.”

“You’re no fun, Fairfax,” I teased. I had a hunch and glanced in my satchel. The clasp was brass.

“Well, now. It appears something is amiss.”

“One of them wants to pop out?” Fairfax said. He looked a little eager.

I glanced up at the building. The woman had gone from her window. “Let’s try the door again,” I said and climbed back up the stairs before Fairfax could protest.

Under the alcove I placed the satchel on the welcome mat at the door. I opened it wide and touched the clasp. The knitting bag wiggled around and a cat’s head popped up from it. This one was a light brown color. Its eyes the same as the others, a rainbow spectrum.

I asked the cat, “Where is Elicia Ipthorn?”

It jumped from the bag and landed on the floor. It stared at the door a moment then placed a single paw on it. I heard the lock come undone. The knob turned, and the door eased open a few inches. The brown cat then leapt into the bag and was gone.

Fairfax looked alarmed. “I believe we just committed breaking and entering.”

I shook my head, “Something is not right. She wouldn’t have opened the door, otherwise.”

Fairfax nodded once and withdrew his pistol. He stepped up to the door as I took up the satchel again and reached in to put a hand on my pistol.

Fairfax knocked and shouted with a loud, commanding voice. “Police! Is anyone here? Please announce your presence!”

No one answered, and Fairfax pushed the door wider. There was a short hallway and a set of stairs leading to the second level with a sitting room to the right. The place was quiet.

As we entered Fairfax motioned for me to stay. It was standard procedure, but it still bothered me. I wanted to be the one going in first.

As I watched the stairs Fairfax moved down the hall, pistol at the ready. At the end on the right was another room and Fairfax stepped before the doorway. Then he gasped.

“What? What is it?” I said, my body tensing.

Fairfax stepped out of sight and returned a moment later. He hurried through the hall. “Another one.”

“Statue?” I asked.

He nodded. “Let me check the upstairs first.”

I tried to not let my frustration show as I waited for Fairfax to sweep the second floor. When he appeared on the stairs again he said, “Nothing up there. Better go take a look.”

I walked to the end of the hall, my heart thumping in my chest.

It was a kitchen, and engraved on one of its walls was the Mark of Quantiqtl. Sitting on a chair at the kitchen table, teacup to her mouth, was a woman completely made of stone.

xxxx

As Fairfax went to use the closest police call-box I searched the house. The downstairs turned up nothing. No signs of struggle or forced entry, and the back door was locked. Since the front door had been locked as well I could only assume the perpetrator had used Elicia’s own keys when he left. The kitchen table had been set for tea with one cup, now stone, at Elicia’s pursed lips ready to sip it. The other teacup was empty.

I checked the upstairs. Only a simple bedroom and water closet. But in the bedroom, spread out on the bed, were a pair of open suitcases full of clothes and sundries. I checked the drawers and closet and found little of note. It appeared that everything Elicia held dear were in these suitcases.

Then I noticed a small glass bottle wedged between the clothing in one of the suitcases. I recognized the medical symbols on its hand written label. ‘Dream Berries of Ogden’. Perhaps she had trouble sleeping?

Fairfax rejoined me at the front door. “Boys are coming now. Did you check out the back?”

Starting from the back door we searched the yard. The cobblestone ground showed no footprints. A line of Elicia’s laundry blew in the wind. She would never take them down now.

I wanted to speak with the neighbor again so leaving Fairfax to watch the townhouse I went next door. After an initial shock and fluttering of hands the neighbor woman, named Farrah, let me in and sat me on a tiny couch. She sat across from me, tears flowing down her cheeks.

“You are sure she is dead?” Farrah asked, eyes wide in bewilderment.

“I’m afraid so,” I said. I gave her a few more moments, and asked. “You said you saw her a couple days ago? Could you be more specific?”

Farrah sniffled and snorted into a handkerchief. “Yes. It must have been two evenings past that I saw her coming back from the store with a bag of groceries. We exchanged pleasantries, and she went in.”

I considered the packed suitcases on Elicia’s bed. “Do you know if Elicia was planning a trip? Or intended to go somewhere for a visit?”

This question befuddled Farrah even more but just when I worried she was going to breakdown again she said, “Well, she told me she was going to sell a book.”

“A book?”

“Yeah. Not sure what she was going on about. Kind of a simple girl, homely like. But she was positive she could get a lot of money for it and she’d leave for the South Islands and never return.”

“Did she mention to whom she was going to sell it?”

Farrah shook her head and cried again.

I told her a constable would be by to take a formal statement and I went back to Elicia’s townhouse. The constables had arrived by then and Fairfax sent most out to canvass the neighborhood.

As I entered the kitchen with Fairfax I found Constable Webster looking at Elicia sitting in her stone chair. He scratched at the hair under his cap and said, “Now how are we going to move this one?”

To Fairfax I said, “Look at the teacup. It’s empty and unstained. I believe Elicia was waiting for someone to arrive and was drinking. Then she let the person in, probably through the back door and they both sat down here. All this indicates she was familiar with that person.”

“But who?” Fairfax said.

“A buyer for a book she was selling,” I said. “And she thought she’d be paid handsomely for it. The bags upstairs show she was ready to leave after the sale. The buyer, once he received his book, then turned her to stone and left that Mark. He exited out the back and used her keys to lock it behind him.”

“But what book?” Fairfax said.