Convocation, p.3
Convocation, page 3
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
The waitress spun and went back to the kitchen, appearing to be a bit peppier now. Jarek reached into his coat pocket and retrieved some money. He turned the check over and saw her scribbling of coffee and breakfast listed with the total amount due, and just below the total, it read:
Thank you for your business. —Ulrika
Chapter 3
Invitation
December 30, 1924, 12:15 p.m.
The sun sitting high in the sky sent beams through the small window in the hotel room. The light hit Jarek’s face as he slowly awakened from a deep sleep. After having breakfast downstairs, he’d decided he needed to rest before beginning to explore the area more and figure out what his next step should be in this town.
As he rolled over onto his back, Jarek contemplated how to approach the waitress downstairs to determine if she was the Ulrika his grandmother mentioned in the telegraph. He assumed it had to be the same woman—fate and an uncommon name led Jarek to that conclusion—but he had absolutely no idea how to question the matter with her. I don’t even know why Leona sent me here. What the hell excuse could I use? While talking to her in the restaurant, Jarek did not feel anything malicious about her. Certainly, no possibility of her being tied to a demon, he thought. However, Annie was able to fool him for quite a while at the O’Connell home too.
The sound of footsteps passing by the door brought Jarek’s mind back to the present. He slowly crawled out from under the quilt and stretched his tired body before putting on his boots and suit coat. He looked in the mirror quickly, ensuring his hair was presentable, picked up his satchel, and secured his coat and hat. As he opened the door into the hallway, he could hear two men talking in the lobby. He immediately identified one of the voices as Mr. Clark, but the second voice was unfamiliar. It was scratchy and hard to even hear. Jarek locked the door behind him before going to the large staircase that led to the elaborate lobby.
“You damn well better,” said the man with the scratchy voice. As he got closer, Jarek recognized him as the older man he had seen a few times already in the hotel. He put his hat on and left the hotel through the front door before Jarek could reach the front desk, where Mr. Clark was still standing. As the door closed with a slam, a shiver ran through Jarek from the chilly draft. This cold weather was still difficult for him to get used to, even though it had been nearly three weeks since he’d left New York.
“Ah, good afternoon, Mr. Videni,” Mr. Clark said with a frazzled expression and flushed cheeks.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Clark,” Jarek responded. “Is . . . Is everything all right?”
“Yes, of course. Just a bit of an argument. Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Clark said while shaking his head a bit. The two stood in awkward silence for a few moments. The only background noise was the sound of a radio playing from behind Mr. Clark’s office door. “Ahem, well anyway, I hope you finally got some rest after your travels.”
“I did, thank you. I needed that after the drive here. Though I wasn’t driving, I still felt a bit exhausted.”
“Glad to hear it,” he responded as his demeanor became more friendly and his furrowed brow loosened. “If you are hungry, Ulrika has some potato soup ready in the kitchen for lunch.”
“Excellent. That sounds perfect right now,” Jarek responded as he moved past Mr. Clark. “Have yourself a pleasant afternoon.”
“You too, Mr. Videni.”
Jarek peered around the room as he entered the restaurant. He immediately saw the younger man, Marcus, from earlier sitting at the same table, except this time he appeared to be reading a book instead of the newspaper. In the opposite corner, near the kitchen door, Jarek saw Ulrika sitting at a table with two other women. One seemed to be about twice her age, and the other was an elderly woman. Ulrika glanced in Jarek’s direction and gave a nod of acknowledgment. Jarek returned the nod with a smile as he set his satchel, coat, and hat on the chair. He sat just as he heard Ulrika’s footsteps approaching.
“Good afternoon, mister,” Ulrika said in a cheerful tone and with a twinkle in her crystal-blue eyes. “Are you here for a bite to eat?”
“Good afternoon, Ulrika,” Jarek said, reciprocating the cheeriness. “Yes, I woke up from my nap famished, so I assumed there would be something good to eat down here. I must say, breakfast was delicious.”
“I have some potato soup. It isn’t anything special, but it is filling, and it’s hot for this chilly day. They said it is only four degrees out today!”
“Burrr. That hot soup would be wonderful,” Jarek replied. As Ulrika was beginning to turn away, he asked, “Say, I couldn’t help but noticing the women at that table. Is that your family?”
“Yes, that’s my grandmother and my mother.”
“How great that they come to visit you at work.”
“It really is. I find it’s good for my grandmother to get her out of the house whenever she can . . . and my mother obliges.” Ulrika’s voice trailed off as she glanced over at the other table. “She . . . she has gone a bit mad over the past few months.”
“Mad?” Jarek asked solemnly.
“Her mind has lost a lot of strength lately. She forgets a lot of things, and she seems to get ill often. She rarely ever speaks, and if she does it is incoherent.”
Jarek stared at the elderly woman. She had a calming presence, yet she gave off a sense of worry and fear. It was an odd combination for him to feel. “Aging can be a difficult process on a person . . . and for others to witness,” Jarek said somberly, thinking about Leona’s own aging process.
“It can be,” Ulrika said, “but it is part of life, and I must remember that. It has been a difficult time on our family financially, and this has just added more stress.” She paused a moment. “Anyway, I hate to burden you with all this.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry. You could say . . . it is part of what I do.”
“Yeah?” Ulrika asked with a raised brow. “What is it you do?”
“I work with people to, uh, help them through problematic times or help them find answers.”
“Like a detective?” Ulrika responded while lowering her voice, leaning in toward the table and cocking her head toward him.
“Well—” Jarek began to respond but was cut of instantly by Ulrika.
“Are you . . . are you here to investigate the missing women?”
“Well, not exactly. I mean . . .” Jarek knew he must do something to help these poor victims, but it wasn’t why he had come to Deadwood. “I mean, it is not the only reason I am here.”
“You mean there are other things happening here?”
“I . . . It’s hard to explain,” said Jarek with a soft chuckle, thinking about the strange things he has done and seen.
“To be honest, mister, I believe there is more happening here. I can’t explain it, but there is something dark in this community. It’s like . . . it’s like it’s cursed or something.” Ulrika glanced around the room. “I’m sorry. That must sound as if I am insane.”
“No, you certainly do not sound insane to me.” Jarek smiled and gave another small chuckle. “Actually, if you knew my thoughts, you would assume I am a sap or full of horse feathers.”
“I doubt that, mister.”
“Please, call me Jarek.”
“Of course . . . Jarek. Well, if I can be of any—”
Ulrika stopped midsentence, and Jarek turned his gaze as a young woman walked into the restaurant. She was wearing an emerald-colored dress with a golden belt. She had beautiful blonde hair, and her pins were the longest Jarek had ever seen, accented with black velvet heels. She was wearing too much cosmetics for the lunch hour, although Jarek didn’t mind this. A scent of sultry elegance hit his nose instantly from the perfume she was coated in. She walked directly to the phonograph near the wall and turned it on. Music began playing as everyone in the room silently watched her move over to a table near Marcus. Jarek was watching her the entire time, and his eyes met Marcus’s as the woman took her seat. Both men smiled and raised an eyebrow at each other in a bit of embarrassment.
“Ahem.” Ulrika cleared her throat, bringing Jarek’s attention back to her. “If I can be of any assistance in your investigation, please let me know. You are the first private dick to visit here that I am aware of. We certainly could use the help. The local law enforcement probably isn’t even capable of solving the Sunday crossword puzzle, let alone this case of missing women.”
“As a matter of fact, would it be possible to meet about the disappearances and, uh, possibly any other information you may have?”
“That would be most excellent. I don’t know much, but maybe something will be useful for you. We shouldn’t talk here, though,” she said as she peered around the room nonchalantly. “But this evening after work . . . we can talk then.”
“Excuse me, miss, I would like a cup of joe, please,” the young woman said in Ulrika’s direction.
“Yes, ma’am. Right away,” Ulrika responded with a nod. She turned to Jarek. “I better get going. I am done this evening at six o’clock. Meet me in the lobby at that time, and you can join me on my walk home. We can talk about more then.”
After Jarek agreed to the meetup, Ulrika turned and walked over to the blonde beauty. As Jarek took in the room once again, he peeked over at the table where Ulrika’s family sat. The two women were staring directly at him. He gave them a small smile, which Ulrika’s mother returned while tucking a loose strand of hair behind her silver hair clip. She then turned her focus toward the soup at the table and began eating again. Ulrika’s grandmother stared at Jarek a few moments longer. As he maintained eye contact with her, she gave him a big toothless smile before resuming to spoon potato soup into her mouth.
Jarek gave a subtle laugh to himself while looking back at his own soup. But as he took his first mouthful, the music coming from the phonograph began to skip, making a potato on his spoon plop back into the bowl. No one else seemed to notice, so Jarek stood up and went over to fix the likely lopsided disk. When he approached the phonograph, an ice-cold draft made his skin go tight with goose bumps. He quickly noticed the disk was still centered with the needle gliding smoothly. As Jarek leaned in, he heard a voice ever so softly between the skips.
“Underneath . . .” it seemed to be saying. “Underneath . . .” Each skip echoed the voice into Jarek’s ear.
Jarek gave the phonograph a light slap and the music resumed as normal. The woman in the emerald dress watched him as he moved back to his table and sat down. He felt her eyes on him the entire time. He took a few more bites of soup and began to wonder about the things he had witnessed since arriving in Deadwood.
The sound of a book snapping shut broke his focus. As Jarek raised his eyes, he saw Marcus stand, slip the book he had been reading under his arm, and proceed to walk directly toward him. He had a determined expression. His bright green eyes never broke contact with Jarek’s, his body poised and proud as he sauntered toward the table.
“May I sit?” Marcus asked directly while already pulling out a chair. Realizing the question was rhetorical, Jarek simply nodded, giving permission. “Sorry to intrude on another meal of yours again.”
“It’s all right,” Jarek responded with a furrowed brow, attempting to cut some of the awkwardness by looking confused . . . which he was.
Marcus relaxed his shoulders and returned a tiny grin to Jarek. He drew a deep breath. “I am curious as to why you are here. I mean, why are you in Deadwood?”
Jarek was taken aback by the forward question. “I . . . To be honest, I am not entirely certain.”
“See, that is the problem. I could hear bits and pieces while you were talking with the waitress—”
“Ulrika,” Jarek said, cutting off Marcus midsentence.
“I heard some of your conversation with Ulrika. I heard you say you were here investigating the missing women. And then I heard you conveniently get yourself invited to walk her home tonight.” Marcus paused and stared directly into Jarek’s blue eyes. “Now, do you see why it is hard for me to believe this whole story?”
Jarek shifted his eyes in worry. “Why do you say that?”
“Because I am here investigating the disappearances too. But you see, the problem is, I am an agent for the federal government. Now, I know for a fact there should be no other people here looking into this case. No one authorized, anyway.”
Jarek was surprised by this. He had trouble reading this man, and he certainly was not expecting him to say this, but he remained quiet as Marcus continued.
“Now, I understand the local authorities dabbled in trying to solve the case. Every . . . single . . . year. I also know that no state agencies are here investigating. Now, if you are a private detective, then I am going to have to graciously ask you to stand down.”
“No . . . no. I am not a private detective. I was told to come here for a different matter . . .”
Marcus’s eyes narrowed. “And what would that be? Who told you to come here?”
“Well, I can see how it might seem.” Jarek hesitated, getting a bit worried about the situation. “I realize it seems odd, me getting invited to escort a young woman home, in a town where women go missing. But I assure you, I am here for something different. My grandmother directed me to come here. You see . . .” Jarek paused. He knew he had to be honest with this man. There was no fooling him. He leaned in toward Marcus and lowered his voice. “I, um . . . I help people.”
Marcus leaned back in his chair and brought his leg up over his knee. He proceeded to not say a word as he rubbed a scuff on his patent leather shoe.
“You might not believe me, but I am what’s called an intuitive. I have, um, special gifts. And, well, my grandmother sent me to Deadwood to help a family that may need my services.”
“So you are . . . well, to be frank, you’re a con man?” Marcus said as he placed the book under his armpit on the table so he could cross his arms. “I have run into plenty of Macs like you that prey on innocent people dealing with serious issues.”
“No, I assure you I am no con man. I truly believe in my gifts.”
The two men sat without talking for a moment. The music playing in the background and the sound of spoons clinking on bowls was the only noise during this uncomfortable exchange.
“I get that it is easy to be skeptical,” Jarek continued. “Trust me, I truly understand that. But I promise you, I am not here to get in the way of a federal investigation.”
“You damn well better not.” Marcus relaxed his shoulders while lowering his crossed arms. “I am sorry for being so harsh, mister. But I have had my share of people thinking they are heroes, when in fact they only hinder a case.”
“I will be sure to stay out of your way. I will focus on why I am here, but if they reach out to me, I must help them.”
“If who reaches out?”
“The women, of course. I can tell you already that they are looking to be found. To find peace. I’m sure you likely don’t believe in all of this, but if they reach out, I will have to help them find that peace.”
“Well, if . . . and I mean if,” Marcus said firmly. “If they reach out to you, I ask that you keep me informed of any information you obtain. I have no idea what is happening in this town, but if the government is investigating, I know it must be serious.” He shook his head side to side. “I’m not saying I believe you, by the way. I am just keeping all my options open to garner information.”
Just as Marcus finished talking, a shadow bolted through the restaurant directly from the phonograph. It made a sweep of the room before returning to the music player. It stopped and hovered near it. Jarek turned his head and watched the shadow’s movement. Marcus didn’t seem to notice Jarek’s distraction.
“That is fine, Marcus,” Jarek said with a small grin as he stared at the hovering shadow. “I don’t need you to believe me. I see what is all around us.”
“If you say so,” Marcus said while he stood. His strong hands secured the book from the table. “Have a good day. Stay out of trouble.”
“You as well,” Jarek said as he watched Marcus leave the restaurant and round the corner toward the stairs.
The music began to skip again. A small energetic hum began to build in the room, making the hair on Jarek’s neck stand straight up. He gazed at Ulrika’s mother and grandmother; they appeared not to notice.
“Stop it,” the woman in emerald said so quietly that Jarek wasn’t entirely sure if she had said it. The music skipped a few more times as the hum grew louder and louder. Jarek’s ears began to ache from the hum. The woman slammed her fists on the table. “Stop it!” she yelled.
The room fell completely silent. Jarek could no longer see the shadow. Everyone in the room stared at the woman. She pushed her chair back from the table and hustled out of the room, looking completely distressed.
Jarek sat motionless, baffled by what he had just observed. The hair on his neck became fully erect as he felt a damp chill hit his skin. He could sense eyes on him. Soon, a lace-gloved hand came from behind him and rested on his left shoulder. It began to move down his arm, fingers crawling down farther and farther. He shifted his eyes and could see the gray dead skin under the dirt-covered lace. His ear went numb as he could feel lips nearby, the icy breath of the spirit prickling the skin as it began to whisper.
“Shhhheee’s neeexxt,” it said before taking a deep, raspy breath. “Shhee’ss neeexxt . . . and she knowsss it.”
Chapter 4
Lost
December 30, 1924, 3:27 p.m.
The sound of dried leaves and twigs cracking underneath Jarek’s bare feet was the only noise echoing in the foggy forest. The chill in the air hitting his feet and cheeks sent shivers down his spine as he stumbled through the uneven terrain in the unknown woods. The screech of a hawk in the distance made Jarek’s eyes bounce from place to place, trying to identify where the animal’s scream came from.
