* * * * *
“I found it in my bedroom,” Fiona informed me, “The night after I took the files from Faye’s personal effects.”
I studied the paper in my hand. The envelope was black and so was the letter inside. The ink was a reddish color but even the scrawling penmanship didn’t make the damn thing look sinister. It looked more like an invitation to a Goth’s birthday party than a summons to a cult gathering. Completely harmless if just a little odd…just as the Daughters of All intended I’m sure.
“It could have fallen out of the box of Faye’s belongings that I had been carrying,” Fiona continued, uncertain how to begin, “But for whatever reason I felt as if it were a sign.”
The invitation wasn’t necessarily directed at Fiona. It was a general invitation, mass produced and handed to people off the street. I had already suggested to Fiona it was plausible that this invitation had slipped out of some of Faye’s files when she had brought them to her room. Fiona conceded the point but it still didn’t change how she felt about the slip of paper.
“It could have been my grief stricken mind but I felt like I had to do something. I came to this city thinking I’d feel closer to Faye. Get some closure if, I don’t know, I walked a mile in her shoes.” Fiona continued, “I began to go through some of her old files to see what she had been working on before her death. I…I had actually started going to the places she mentioned in her notes. That’s what led me to the street where I saw Faye…w-which caused my breakdown. After I was released from the hospital I still couldn’t give up on the idea that my sister was still alive. Which was why I hired you.”
It took every ounce of my willpower not to snap at Fiona. I had been living the ideal life until she waltzed into my office and dragged me under the bus of fanaticism and cult activities. If Dr. Livingstone was right, Faye could have faked her death and run off to lead the Daughters of All…which meant Fiona damned us all because she poked her nose where it didn’t belong.
But that didn’t feel right. That explanation, while farfetched was too simple for the hell my life had become since looking into these cultists. There was something more going on, I could just feel it.
“I kept these files from you because I was scared you’d think that insanity ran in our family. After all, I was already checked into a mental ward and what Faye has written is…bizarre to say the least.” Fiona concluded, her voice tightening with emotion, “But after what we witnessed last night…I knew that there was truth to these notes!”
Drumming my fingers across the folders I had looked through, I didn’t know where to begin. Faye had been a bit meticulous when it came to her work. Her notes were fantastic, the kind that Ivy League professors dreamt their students would take. Yet the actual information they contained left something to be desired.
Faye had begun by looking into complaints against the cult, mostly collecting statements and accounts from angry parents, concerned church officials and a few teachers. Rather straight forward and routine. She had done an excellent job citing her sources and concluded there wasn’t a high school or middle school in our fair city that hadn’t had at least one suspected member of the Daughters of All.
Despite her best efforts, Faye didn’t get the backing she needed. There were three letters from Faye’s editor, rejecting the idea of running anything that might offend a fledging religion with a good lawyer. Freedom of Press vs. Freedom of Religion and so on. Instead of becoming discouraged, my client’s sister began to (foolishly) continue her investigation on her own time.
It wasn’t until Faye actually began getting involved with the cult physically that she had more success…and things began to get weird. According to her notes, after hitting the clubs in person she was able to discover more about the Daughters of All. The young recruits had opened up to her and talked about their meetings and activities. Most of these activities weren’t that bad, slap-on-the-wrist stuff at best. Sneaking into clubs, loitering outside 24 stores, underage drinking, etc.
This is where the notes slowly began to slip from routine and professional to bizarre and quite frankly, scary. According to Faye, the senior members of the cult had quite the sales pitch, claiming to be the chosen of some great, immortal power. The longer you stayed in the cult, the crazier the sermons of the Daughters of All became. Claims of making contact with the other side and meeting their God made flesh were common. Y’know, the stuff you’d expect from a cult.
My pulse began to quicken when Faye began writing first hand accounts of witnessing unexplained phenomena. At first she claimed these strange “tricks” were nothing but slight of hand but as she continued her notes became more feverish. They lost their studious and strict nature becoming hastily scrawled sentences slapped together. She started to write cryptic messages about the priestesses possessing “real magic.” Faye also began to suspect someone was following her and you could just feel her fear through the words she had written.
It was obvious why Fiona hadn’t wanted to share these notes. The paranoia almost consumed her sister in the last of her files, not quiet on par with the ramblings of a mental patient but they were definitely disorganized enough to make one question the state of Faye’s mind when she was writing these. Faye had started talking about demons and devils and how dangerous the cult really was.
But something didn’t make sense. There wasn’t a single passage or note about drug connections or abducted teenagers. Faye had been following the Daughters of All for months and I had discovered they were drug peddlers and child snatchers within a week. It just didn’t make sense. Why didn’t she mention any of this? Unless…
“She has more,” I said aloud, setting down the paper.
“What?” Fiona asked, not understanding my statement.
“She has more notes.” I elaborated, “She makes it a point not to mention anything legally incriminating, meaning she was probably scared of someone reading these notes and destroying them. Are you sure you grabbed all of her letters?”
Fiona nodded, “Yes. I have all of files, even the ones that have nothing to do with the Daughters of All.”
I clicked my tongue. Where oh where would Faye keep her notes? Well if I ran into her again I could just ask her…
Unable to repress it, I shivered.
Not the time for dark humor.
“Did she have a safety deposit box?” I asked, “Or, like, a storage unit?”
“No.” Fiona replied, “Not that I knew of.”
“Fantastic,” I sighed, “And her apartment has probably already been wiped clean and has a yuppie couple living in it. Did she have a journal or anything like that?”
Fiona donned a sad smile.
“No,” She replied with a shake of her head, “Faye…she kept a journal in Jr. High and some boys got a hold of it. Embarrassed her really bad. From then on, she hated writing down her own personal thoughts and feelings. That’s why she liked journalism so much. It gave her voice to other people.
Well this was a waste of time. No useful information, Fiona was melancholy and I was still sober. The only way this night could get worse is if the Daughters of All found me or that loan shark from New Mexico finally snapped out of his coma and came looking for some payback.
“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing showing me these notes.” I said, more to comfort my client than anything.
“More?” Fiona mumbled, “I can’t believe she had more notes. The police collected all of Faye’s stuff. Everything was brought to us. They even offered to bring us the stuff Faye had pawned for rent money.”
No…no fucking way.
It couldn’t be that simple could it?
“Hold up, what kind of place was your sister staying in?” I asked suddenly intrigued.
“Just a single apartment, why?” Fiona asked.
“Your sis was on a payroll for a respected press office,” I pointed out, “Why would she need to pawn things to pay rent? Living expenses, rent and a cell phone were her only fiscal concern
s.”
“How do you…?” Fiona asked, looking more suspicious than impressed.
“I’m an investigator remember?” I played off her suspicions with a wave of my hand and not mentioning Buggy had dug up everything about her sister for me, “But more to the point: Faye wouldn’t have needed to pawn anything.”
“So?”
“So what did she pawn? And why?”
“I dunno…I think a ring and some decorative pieces. Nothing major.”
“Do you still have the pawnshop ticket or loan information?”
“Of course not! Besides, what’s this got to do with anything?”
“Your sister became a bit paranoid when working on this case,” I grinned as I stood up, “And I happen to be an expert in that field. Remember the pawnshop’s name?”
“I could call my parents. They might?” Fiona offered, “But why? She pawned those things months ago. They are probably gone.”
“Nope. In this city pawnbrokers have to abide by a time table set by the cops before they can sell anything, to make sure the goods aren’t stolen. Plus, you factor in the original loan time…” I pointed out, pausing to tip back my beer to finish it, “Besides, I have a really strong feeling that Faye went to extra lengths to make sure these items weren’t sold. Let’s go.”
Fiona stood up and gathered her sister’s notes. While she got ready to disembark, I turned to the Twins.
“Kobe steaks on me,” I told the Twins, “If you can find out if anyone local is selling a new product called Soul Scream. Zotkin’s boys are already on it but no one with a brain is doing any leg work.”
Kurt gave a noncommittal grunt but West was already drooling over the thought of a big, juicy steak. After that Fiona and I exited the Bin while I mentally tried to solve this strange puzzle that Faye had left for us.
Looking back now, I realized that some puzzles weren’t made to be solved by the sane. Luckily for me, that wasn’t going to be a problem for much longer.
* * * * *