Southern fury, p.2
Southern Fury, page 2
“Let me guess — Mrs. Berkley’s husband, Rodney.”
“Not even close. Does the name Wilburn Walker mean anything?”
Max opened his eyes. He looked straight at Drummond and said, “Not yet.”
Chapter 3
DESPITE THE LATE HOUR, Max headed back to the office. His head buzzed with the image of a cloaked witch and the name Wilburn Walker. No way would he be able to sleep — especially in his mother’s crowded apartment. Better to get started on research. Besides, he had asked Drummond to search for Walker’s ghost in the Other which meant the office would be empty and quiet for several hours.
Parking on 6th Street, Max lingered on the deserted sidewalk. Winston-Salem had grown a lot in the years since they first moved to the city, and it often became a hub of activity for people — especially with events like the River Run Film Festival and the Bookmarks Book Festival. But on a mid-week night, the city became a quiet town with barely a hint of being one of the top five largest cities in the state. Max usually disliked that strange dichotomy. He wanted the area to pick an attitude — be a bustling city or be a snoozing town. Choose one and stick with it. However, standing on the sidewalk, feeling the cool night air around him, listening to the gentle silence of a city asleep — he embraced the stillness.
After all, he had just encountered a witch. That meant the odds were high that his world would become anything but still.
When he finally climbed the narrow stairs, trudged down the old hall, and unlocked the office door, he knew he had been right to take a moment. Inside, he heard Sandra muttering to herself as she stomped across the floor.
“Where have you been?” she asked as way of a greeting.
“Stakeout. Remember?”
She rushed over and hugged him tight. “Sorry.”
They held each other long enough for her to release some of the stress in her muscles. At length, she pulled away, and Max offered a smile. He had always thought of her as beautiful, always knew she was intelligent, and always respected the gifts she brought to the team, but in recent months, he had gained a new appreciation for all that made her such a formidable woman. Her strong will and keen insights continued to serve them well — both with cases and with life. She was his anchor. At the moment, though, he could see that she needed him to take on the role of anchor for a bit. And he could think of only one thing that would disturb her this much.
“I take it you had another fight with my mother.”
“I swear she’s baiting me now. There is no way she can really be like that all the time.”
He could hear all that tension flooding her system again. Sitting behind his desk, he said, “Tell me what happened.”
“Laundry,” she said, folding her arms and leaning against her desk.
“That doesn’t really help. What about the laundry?”
“Apparently, I don’t do it right. Apparently, the boys need to have their laundry done in her special way so that they are comfortable at school and will do better at learning. It’s laundry, for crying out loud. It doesn’t make a difference if I fold it left or right, doesn’t matter if I put in one swish of detergent or two, doesn’t mean a thing. As long as the clothes are clean. And that was just the start of it. She doesn’t approve of the foods I give the boys, doesn’t like the rules I have in place for them, doesn’t like anything I do. If I said it was a sunny day outside, she’d comment that the rain would be coming any minute. I mean, I’ve always known that she doesn’t like me, but this is getting insane.”
Sandra heaved a long breath. Max tried to think of something calming to say, but they had been through this too many times since moving in with his mother. Mrs. Porter goaded Sandra. Sandra reacted hard. Sandra vented her anger at Max. All grew calm until the cycle repeated. Any time he tried to hasten the process, to find words that might ease Sandra, she usually accused him of taking his mother’s side and her anger reignited.
“I couldn’t take it anymore,” she went on. “If I stayed in that house any longer, I would’ve said something, or worse done something, and none of us want that.” She leaned over Max’s desk. “But I’m telling you right now, we have got to get out of that place.”
“We will move out as soon as we can.”
“You’ve been saying that for months.”
“I can’t force the insurance company to act any quicker. I’ve called them, and I’ve complained. But they’re dragging their feet, and we can’t afford a lawyer to speed them up. Even if we could, we don’t want to push them any harder than necessary. We have to hope they don’t start investigating too close because we have no idea how we could explain any of the things they might find in the ashes of our house.”
With her hands on her hips, Sandra said, “That’s a load of crap. We weren’t dead broke when the house went up in flames and we’re not dead broke now.”
“We don’t have enough for a down payment on a house.”
“Maybe not a luxury home, but we lived close enough to that once before and I don’t need it again. Do you?”
“It doesn’t have to be a mansion, but it still has to meet all of our needs. And we need a lot. If we’re going to continue the whole guardianship process for the Sandwich Boys, then we’re going to have to show the state that they’re not living in squalor.”
“There’s five of us living in your mother’s one-bedroom apartment. I think we can do better than that. The boys once had their own apartment, for crying out loud. They gave that up to be with us. We have to do better for them.”
“Don’t start trying to use the boys as your excuse. It’s my mother that’s your problem.”
“No kidding. And if you want to see her live through the end of the year, you better start listening to me.”
All their years of marriage had taught Max how to read his wife’s emotions. Despite her vigorous debate, he spotted her easing shoulders and the way her hands dropped to her sides. She was still angry, but he had a chance to get through the thick wall of her stress.
“Come here,” he said, patting his lap.
The corners of her mouth rose involuntarily. She quickly shut it down to a firm line, but she also sauntered over and settled on Max’s knee. Her arms went around his neck, and she leaned in to share a brief kiss.
Something hard pressed against his neck, and he knew it was that ruby ring Sandra had started wearing. She said she found it at the bottom of her jewelry box — just a small thing with a small gem. Max could not recall ever seeing it before, but he caught her gazing at it from time to time.
Pressing her forehead against his, Sandra said, “I know you don’t like the situation any better than me. The way she goes around calling you Little Max.”
“What is with that? She’s never called me that my entire life and now suddenly she forces it in wherever she can.”
“I don’t know. But it irritates you every single time. I can see it. And that’s just a tiny example. You know things are driving you nuts, too. So why do you keep dragging your feet?”
“I’m not saying that my mom is right. She’s not. We can do the laundry however we want and create our family the way we think it should be done.”
“But?”
Max pulled his head back so that he could see Sandra clearly. “I think that she’s right about the core idea. That we should be thinking about these things — about how we do the small things as well as the big things. It’s not just us anymore. We’re responsible for PB and J. It’s been a hard adjustment, and I think we’re getting there. Figuring out where we’re going to live, what kind of house, what area, it’s going to be the foundation of the life we create for those boys. It’s that important. I think we need to take our time and do it right.”
“And you think having all the money we can get from our insurance is going to make that much a difference?”
“I think we need to make sure these boys have a stable living situation. If we go buy an inferior house, then in another year or so we’ll either be miserable or probably end up moving again. I don’t want to do that to those boys. PB and J lived on the streets and lived in a ratty place of their own and they deserve to have a chance at a real home.”
Sandra hugged Max tighter. “I agree.” She kissed him before walking over to her desk. “There’s no reason we can’t be looking right now. If anything, it’ll help the boys know that our current living situation is temporary. It’ll show them and your mom that we are trying to improve our lives, trying to build a sturdy foundation for our family. And if you think waiting for the money so that we have the best possible options is important, then okay. While we wait, I’m sure we can come up with a rough estimate of how much were going to get and start searching now within that price range.”
“As long as we’re approaching it from the same side, then that works for me.”
Finally, Max saw a genuine smile lift on his wife’s lips. “Then let’s go back to your mom’s place, get some rest, and in the morning, we can start looking at houses again.”
Max tried to hide his frown. He quickly replayed the conversation in his head, attempting to find where the whole thing had flipped around so that he agreed to help her search for homes tomorrow. Though he trusted his wife to never use magic against him, she had been studying the ways of witchcraft for a long time. He couldn’t keep his brain from raising the possibility that she had manipulated him with some other-worldly assistance. Of course, he dismissed the idea immediately. If for no other reason, he knew Sandra needed no assistance. She was smart — just a fact.
Besides, she was right. If he wanted to build the strongest foundation for their family, then he had to get out and search for it. Waiting to cross some arbitrary line only postponed the inevitable.
“Something the matter?” she asked.
With the evening’s tension finally dissipating, he had no plan to shake the ground again. Instead, he jumped on the first thing to come to mind. “There have been some developments in our case.”
“The cheating spouse?”
“Cheating with a witch.”
“Really?” Sandra’s eyes widened, but Max could not tell if she felt surprise or interest.
He told her everything that had happened that night. From the long stakeout, to the visit from Drummond, to the cloaked woman skulking around the parking lot, to entering the hotel room and finding the casting circle. He recounted the attack and finally revealed the name Wilburn Walker. When he finished, he saw the answer on her face — she was intrigued.
“Describe the circle again,” she said.
“Not much to describe. It was a plain circle made from a powdery white substance. Looked too thick to be salt. Maybe chalk. There was one symbol on the edge — a circle with a crosshatch inside. And that paper with the name was in the circle. I’m guessing we interrupted her before she could actually draw any other symbols.”
“Maybe.”
“What else could it be? I’ve never come across a casting circle that was mostly blank. You?”
Thinking as she spoke, Sandra said, “Meditation circles or other kinds of focusing methods might look like that. Not a casting circle, though.”
“So, what’s the matter?”
“That piece of paper with the name on it. That’s the oddity. If she were doing a summoning spell or a curse or any serious magic, she would have completed all of the casting circle before laying the name down. If you had found a half-completed set of symbols, that would’ve made more sense with the idea that you had interrupted her. But this — it’s wrong.”
“Maybe she’s a novice.”
“Maybe.”
Getting up from his desk, Max said, “Well, we’re not going to solve it tonight. We’ve got a meeting set for tomorrow morning with Mrs. Berkley, and we can report everything that’s happened. See what she says. If she chooses not to believe in witches or thinks we’re crazy or whatever, the case is over and we don’t have to worry about. If she wants us to keep going, then we’re no longer doing a simple cheating spouse case and that means our costs go up.”
Sandra snickered. “Somebody’s been learning a bit about business.”
“Call it hazard pay. I don’t care. But if we’re going to be finding a new place to live sooner rather than later, then we could use all the money we can get.” Max picked up his coat and headed for the door. He put his arm out for Sandra to link and as she walked over, he said, “I’ve got a good feeling about this one.”
Sandra paused mid-step. “You just had to say that.”
Chapter 4
AFTER A LONG NIGHT of being on stakeout followed by deliberating through a bump on the road of marital bliss, Max wanted to sleep an extra hour before heading out to work. But he no longer had that option. The Sandwich Boys needed to eat breakfast and to get ready for school. Since Mrs. Porter homeschooled PB, he needed to bring his books out to the work table in the corner of the living room. J went to public school, so he needed a lunch packed, and Max also had to get himself together for a full day of research.
He had two pans on the stove — one with scrambled eggs, the other sizzling bacon. He pulled out two glasses and filled one with milk and the other with orange juice. J stumbled in first.
“Morning, kid,” Max said, forcing a light, joyful tone.
“Morning.” J grabbed the milk and downed half of it, leaving behind a stark white mustache against his dark skin. “Hey, can I get some waffles?”
“Sure. Tomorrow. Today, it’s scrambled eggs and bacon.” He handed J a plate of food.
PB popped into the kitchen, his mouth moving loud and fast. “Sounds good to me. I’ll have his, if he don’t want it.”
“Shut up. I want my breakfast.” J shoved PB in a playful manner — mostly.
Wearing a robe with a floral print that may never have looked new, Mrs. Porter followed the boys. “See that?” she said to Max. “All your talking back is going to bite you.”
Max stood by the stove, spatula in hand. “Who was talking back?”
“You are. Right now. If all they see is you showing your mother disrespect, then that is all they’ll learn. Children are masters of imitation.”
PB smirked. “That’s right. We’re masters of imitation.”
J laughed as he shoved eggs into his mouth. Max kept an eye on both boys for a moment longer. PB often instigated trouble. Max thought it mostly came from insecurity — both boys knew that J was the smarter one. PB had a few years of growth on J, but that wouldn’t matter for much longer.
Mrs. Porter peeked at the stove. “Oh, Little Max, you be careful with those eggs. They cook quicker than you think. You have to watch things like that when you’re a parent.”
Sandra entered and both boys tossed out a boisterous Good morning. She rubbed her head as she pleaded with Max. “Coffee.”
“Really,” Mrs. Porter said. “Can’t you see he’s busy taking care of your children? I’ll get the coffee.”
“No need,” Sandra said, her low growl baring more than simple morning grumpiness. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any effort.”
“No effort at all. If you pay attention, you might learn something. A good mother always knows how to anticipate the needs of those around her.” Mrs. Porter filled a mug with coffee and handed it over. “Even for something as small, but important, as a morning cup.”
Both women smiled with venom.
Before he could intervene, Max heard PB taunting J — repeating the same word over and over. Nerd, nerd, nerd. It had started over the last few days, and Max dismissed it as PB’s jealousy of J’s academic success. But he could see on J’s face that the attack bit deep.
“Knock it off.” Max pointed his spatula at PB. “There’s nothing wrong with being smart, and if I hear you teasing J again, we can quite easily end the homeschooling and send you to public school with him.”
“Aw, I’m just poking fun.”
“Does your brother look like he’s having fun?”
J said, “We’re not brothers.”
Mrs. Porter pushed Max aside, swiped the spatula from his hand, and finished the eggs before they burned. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Because you and your wife are not doing your jobs as their guardians, these two boys don’t even see each other as friends anymore — let alone brothers. That’s because you two are not building a strong family. I understand how hard it is, but I raised you and you turned out pretty good. I have the experience you both lack. I should think you would listen to me more.”
Sandra set her coffee down hard, sloshing some over the rim. “It’s not his fault. And it’s not mine. And it’s not the boys, either. They’re a bit stir crazy, that’s all. They’ve been like brothers since the day they first met on the streets, and even if they didn’t both come from the same mother — let alone me — we all care about each other, and we all look out for each other.” She turned her firm glare at the boys. “Isn’t that right?”
The boys nodded without a sound.
Mrs. Porter said, “Now you’re going to bully them into agreeing with you? I suppose you’ll bully them into behaving, too. Wonderful parenting.”
“Everyone, be quiet.” Max’s loud voice echoed in the silence that followed. He had not expected that to work and paused while he formulated something more to say. Like the captain of a naval vessel, he issued his orders. “Sandra, go warm up the car so that we can take J to school. PB, take your plate and go to your work table. Get started on your schoolwork. My mom will be with you in a moment. J, finish those last bites and get ready for school. When I’m done here, you better be in the car with Sandra. Mom, put my breakfast in a container of some kind and I’ll take it to work.”
Nobody moved. They all stared at him as if he was a crazy man wearing a straitjacket and doing a jig. Max slammed his hands together in one loud clap which snapped everybody back to the moment. The boys dispersed quickly and Sandra sauntered off as well.
Max stared at his mother as she locked her focus into finishing his eggs. Though she refused to look at him, he knew she listened. “You don’t have to be so hard on her.”
