“The first time was because I was hungry and wanted one of Larry’s pies,” he said.
She shook her head. “No, if you were just hungry, you would have gone home,” she said, “You were upset. Larry–”
She looked away for a moment. Her jaw clenched. She turned her face back to him.
“Larry said you usually came in when you had a bad afternoon,” she said, “When you wanted a little human contact.”
Hilario shuddered. In that moment he wanted nothing more than to flee. Unlock his reserves and bounce off into the night. Find a quiet place to huddle in enveloping darkness.
Looking into her eyes, he felt so exposed he might as well be standing there naked. Which would have been about the unsexiest thing anyone could ever see.
How did she know? How did Larry know?
He started to send out a tendril of consciousness to probe her mind. Stopped. He really didn’t want to go in there right now. Even though it might definitively put to rest the question of her innocence in Larry’s demise.
He gave her a clown smile and honked his nose again.
“Larry’s pizza is always the cure for a bad day,” he said.
Detective Marco stuffed his reshaped fedora back on his head. “It was.”
“Why did you come back the second time?” Rachel asked.
There was something in her eyes. A sharpness. And a yearning.
What did she want?
He glanced at Detective Marco. Who gave him a stoney, tight lipped look in return.
“Ah, well, that is an excellent question,” he said, “The answer to which requires a certain amount of suspension of disbelief in order to be appreciated.”
She turned her sharp look on Detective Marco. Who blushed and looked down at his shoes.
What sort of relationship did these two share? It was certainly more than acquaintances. Did it go beyond friendship? Obviously Mrs. Larry was no longer Mrs. Larry. That had no doubt been established in a court of law.
A discreet check of Detective Marco’s fingers didn’t reveal the telltale glint of a ring. But then, that wasn’t always a good indicator of human mating patterns.
In a sharp tone, she said: “What’s going on?”
Hilario shifted his feet. He spoke from the corner of his mouth to Detective Marco–
“I told you this was a bad idea.”
Rachel’s brows furrowed and storm clouds seemed to gather in her eyes. Larry had once mentioned Rachel had a fiery temper. That had been when Hilario, in a lapse of judgement, had asked Larry about black eye he was sporting that evening.
Rachel-a…she-a got-a her-a mad-a on-a today-a…
And proceeded to regale Hilario with a story that involved flying crockery, pretzeled golf clubs and a sizable dent in Larry’s prized 1967 Camaro.
Though he never quite said what had made his beloved wife so angry.
Rachel pointed a finger at Marco. “You I can understand being here,” she said.
The accusing finger moved to Hilario. It was quite steady for its owner’s inebriated state.
“You,” she continued, “Why are you here?”
Marco puffed himself up. “I told you. He’s a suspect.”
“Can it, Marco,” Rachel said, “Whatever you think Hilario did, he didn’t. Now what’s going on?”
Marco opened his mouth. Closed his mouth. Opened it again. He was either doing a fish impression (unlikely) or was having a difficult time with discussing the more odd elements of his evening (very likely).
The detective turned a glare on Hilario.
“Would she be able to see…you know. It?” he said.
“I don’t believe that would be wise…” Hilario said.
“What are you two talking about?” Rachel said.
Marco looked back at Hilario’s van. Unfortunately, Hilario was unable to stop himself from doing the same. They might as well have shouted from the treetops that there was something in the van.
Rachel reached back. Pulled the door shut. The lock clicked with a solid thunk. Had she just locked herself out?
Before he or Marco could say a word, she was pushing past them. Moving at a brisk walk through between the walls of roses toward the van. Marco spun and went after her.
“Rachel, wait!” he said.
Was it just his imagination, or did the roses shrink back from Rachel as she passed by them?
He took a tentative step their way.
Oy, tubby, we’re still hungry for clown blood! the roses shouted.
Why did it have to be roses? Why couldn’t it have been rhododendrons? They were much more laid back. And didn’t have thorns.
“Be nice!” Rachel shouted back over her shoulder.
Hilario stopped. The roses, which had been reaching for his thighs suddenly withdrew.
Ey now, didn’t mean to get up at you there, boss, the roses said, Didn’t know you was a friend of the lady.
Oh dear.
He hurried down the suddenly clear walkway.
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
He’d never sensed any magical powers in Rachel. But then he’d never really looked, had he?
What was she going to see when she got to the van?
14
There was a lot of debate in the unseen world about where so-called “normal” people had come from. And why they were so important.
To a creature living in the unseen world, the world wasn’t unseen. It was just the world. And the world had layers and layers and layers. And various entities claimed domain over certain layers. Or slices of layers. Some layers were nice neighborhoods with lots of resources and a temperate atmosphere.
Which usually got that layer invaded and fought over for a few millennia until it looked just as ragged and poopy as most of the other layers.
But the normal world…well it was just a giant orb, sitting there at the center of the unseen universe. And crawling over that orb were people.
Some entities in the unseen
