Hocus

“I don’t know.”

He made some sort of additional protest, but I didn’t really hear what he was saying. I had started the noisy Karmann Ghia. I whipped out of the driveway, hoping I’d be at the end of the street before Detective Thomas Cassidy could figure out that I’d left.

4

TRAFFIC WAS SPARSE at just after two in the morning, so even though I wasn’t as careful as I usually am when I’m driving near closing time, I noticed the car that was following me. I wasn’t exactly sure when the dark sedan had first appeared, but by the time I was within a few blocks of the paper, there was no doubt in my mind that I was being tailed. I tried to get a better look at my pursuer, but when I slowed he slowed. I couldn’t make out the color of the car, let alone who was in it.

I made a series of unnecessary turns, cut through the parking lot of the downtown senior center, and turned into a little alleyway near the main library. I doused my lights and waited to see if the sedan was still with me. After a few moments I had the attention of a couple of homeless guys but no one else, so I pulled out and drove on to the paper.

Although the newsroom would be empty, there were plenty of cars pulling into the parking lot at the Express. This was the hour when the drivers from the circulation department arrived. The first copies of the morning paper would already be off the presses; trucks were being loaded. I didn’t know any of the people I saw walking toward the building, so it took me a moment to see the man who was just standing outside his sedan, arms folded, staring at me.

“Don’t put me in your diary for this, Detective Cassidy.”

He moved off the car and walked over to me. “No, Mrs. Harriman — or do you prefer to be called Ms. Kelly?”

“Irene.”

“Okay, Irene, just call me Tom or Cassidy — either one will do. I don’t think anybody but my mama calls me Thomas these days. Anyway, this doesn’t make you an asshole. In fact, after listening to some of the stories the captain told me about you, I would have been disappointed if you didn’t try a stunt like this.”

“Glad to give you the satisfaction of being right. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going into the building.”

“Certainly,” he said, and started to follow me.

“Wait a minute. The Las Piernas Police Department is not invited to come along.”

“You aren’t safe here,” he said, moving to block my way. “If I could figure out what you were likely to do, so could someone else.”

“Frank’s the one in danger, not me.” I dodged around him, started for the building again. “Why should anyone care if I….”

I came to a halt.

“What is it?” he asked sharply.

“Over there,” I said, pointing to a Volvo parked in along the back wall of the building, away from the other cars. “Frank’s car. He’s here!”

I started running toward it.

“Wait!” Cassidy shouted, grabbing on to me and nearly causing us both to fall to the pavement.

“Let go of me!”

“Irene, please wait.” We had drawn some attention by then. A couple of the truck drivers were looking our way. I stood still. Cassidy pulled out his badge holder and held it over his head. “Y’all just go on about your business. The lady’s fine.”

They hesitated. “I’m all right,” I called out. “Really.”

Slowly they left.

“Now, let’s go take a look,” Cassidy said. “I’m anxious to see it, too, but I want us to go about this cautiously. Together. And we aren’t going to touch that car. You with me on this?”

I nodded.

“Let’s go, then.”

The closer we got to the Volvo, the worse I felt about it being there. Frank wouldn’t drive to the newspaper in the middle of the night. He would come home. If he didn’t want to go to the house for some reason, if he were in trouble and needed my help, this was the last place he’d try to meet me.

“Easy,” Cassidy said. “Take it easy. Stay back here a minute.”

He crouched down and slowly moved up to the car. He peered inside, then swore under his breath and stood up. He covered his eyes with one hand.

I hurried over, looked into the car.

Empty.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning to take a closer look. “Why are you so upset?”

“Don’t touch it,” he said. Then, standing behind me, he gently took my shoulders and crouched down again, moving me with him. He pointed up through the rear passenger window. “The mirror.”

Something was written on the rearview mirror in small, neat letters. It looked as if the writer had used a sharp-tipped black felt pen. The parking lot wasn’t brightly lit, but there was enough light to read the words:

HOCUS HAS NEWS. WE KNOW WHERE TO FIND YOU.

“Hocus? Oh, no. No….”

“Shh, shh. Hush. We don’t know a thing, really.”