Dead Letter Day (21 page)

THE SACRAMENTO DELTA IS A STRANGE LITTLE PLACE. IT’S hard to believe you’re only a few miles away from the capital of the seventh largest economy in the world when you wind along the river looking at houseboats and funny little bait and tackle shops. Stray a mile or so in any direction and you’ll be in the middle of acres of vineyards with grapes that bask in the heat of the summer sun and sweeten in the cool air of the nights once the Delta breezes sweep through. Come through in the fog like I was and the place was downright creepy, with almost a southern Gothic feel about it.

The Valley is famous for its fogs. Ask any resident about tule fog and you’ll get an earful about being stranded someplace, unable to see the hand in front of your face. I was lucky. This wasn’t a tule. They’re kind of a winter thing. This pea soup was just business as usual in the fall in the Central Valley.

I wound down River Road past Clarksburg. I was looking for someone in particular, someone who knew about nets. Her name was Cordelia and she was a mermaid.

I’d met Cordie when I was in high school. I’m not sure if she’d taken up residence in the Delta before that or if that was just the first time I’d been called on to take something to her. Regardless, it was our first encounter. It definitely hadn’t been our last. I’d been coming down here probably once every month or two since then.

I’m not sure how exactly she wandered into the Delta or
why she decided to stay, but she clearly wasn’t going anywhere. I suspected she liked the solitude and lack of competition. Mermaids can be totally cutthroat.

Cordelia had a few favorite places to hang out. I knew a few of them. With any luck, I’d catch her at one of those and be able to show her the net. The pattern of knots in it was so intricate, I felt like it had to be unique. If anyone might recognize who had made the net by this small piece of its pattern, it would be Cordelia.

I shuddered at the thought of how the net might have been used, at the agony it might have caused. All that silver on werewolf skin.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a net at all. I knew I was jumping to conclusions, but I didn’t know what else to do. So I jumped. I pulled over to the side a little south of Scribner Road and got out of the car.

There’s something about being near water that’s soothing to me. It’s completely counterintuitive as far as I’m concerned. Having drowned once, I would think I would be afraid of water or at least tense around it. Instead I have the complete opposite reaction. I can sit and watch water go by for hours. Put me on a beach with ocean waves and it’s probably one of the few times I’m able to sit still for long periods of time without wanting to jump out of my skin.

I let all my senses open—the Arcane and the Mundane—and drank it in. I could use a little soothing these days.

I soaked in the smell of the river, the dank chill of the fog and listened to the swish of the water. Unfortunately, that’s all I got. Cordie wasn’t there. I sighed, got back in the car and started driving again.

I went a few more miles south and pulled over to go through the same routine. Nothing. Not the faintest tingle. It took me two more tries before I finally found her.

I hadn’t seen Cordelia since before I started being able to differentiate between different types of ’Canes with my senses, so I took a moment to really get a feel for what kind of impact a mermaid had on me. Her presence was a bit tangy with a hint of salt to it. I walked down to the water humming under my breath, finally starting to sing as I got to the river’s edge. “Ask any mermaid you happen to see, what’s the best tuna?”

Then I sat down and waited, still singing. She surfaced about five minutes later.

“You know that song bugs the crap out of me, don’t you?” Cordelia asked, water cascading down her long blonde locks and over her bare breasts.

I smiled. “Yeah. I know. I needed to talk to you. I figured getting you to tell me to shut up was the most surefire way to get you to surface.”

“That’s not nice, Melina.” She reached over her shoulder to gather her hair up and wring it out.

“But it was effective,” I pointed out.

She laughed. Cordelia wasn’t bad. I actually kind of liked her. I also knew I couldn’t totally trust her. Mermaids are some of the most selfish beings out there. Honestly, they make vampires look like philanthropists.

“So what was so important that you had to talk to me right away?” she asked, swimming closer to the shore. Well, swimming isn’t exactly the right word. Cordelia more undulated through the water.

I pulled the silver netting out of my bag. I’d wrapped it in some fabric and fully expected it to be a tangled mess. I mean, if I set the earbuds to my iPod down on the counter and walk away for twenty-five seconds, the cord is tied in about fifteen knots when I come back. Not so for my silver net. It slid out of the fabric flat as a pancake without a single tangle. I held it up so Cordie could see it.

She reached her hand out for it and I yanked it back. “No way, José,” I said. “This is not a gift.”

She pouted. “But it’s pretty.”

“And shiny. I know. It’s still not yours.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“I was sort of hoping you could tell me.” It is why I’d driven down here in the fog after all.

“Why would I be able to tell you anything about that?” She crossed her arms over her breasts, which was kind of a relief. I’d started to feel like her nipples were staring at me. I so wish mermaids really wore coconut bras like they do in Disney movies.

“Because you know more about nets that anyone else I know.” Mermaids were well-known for tangling up fishermen’s nets and for occasionally getting tangled in them. “These knots look really unique. I thought you might know who made them.”

“It’s sort of hard to see them from a distance. Just let me hold it for a second.” She smiled at me with a sweetness that almost had me believing that she wouldn’t snatch it up and dive down to the bottom of the river. Almost being the key word there.

“No. Squint. Maybe it’ll help.”

“If I get wrinkles in my forehead, it’s your fault.” She sighed and complied. “It’s not like any net that I’ve ever seen,” she said finally. “No one knots a net like that. In fact, those don’t even look like knots. Are you sure it’s part of a net?”

I wasn’t sure. I was afraid. I didn’t care if she knew the former. I’d prefer to keep the latter to myself. “No. It looked like one to me.”

“Not to me,” she said. “And I’ve seen a lot of nets in my day.”

True that. Cordie’s alabaster skin might be as smooth as mother of pearl, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t been around the bay a few times. “So what do you think it is?”

She tilted her head to one side. “I really couldn’t say. I like the pattern, though. It looks like something you might find on the back of a chair at your grandma’s.”

Cordie clearly did not know my grandma Rosie. She abhorred anything “froufrou” as she called it. She liked everything simple, unadorned and clean. I totally got it. My mother, on the other hand, would probably have BeDazzled our entire house if my father hadn’t put his foot down.

I wondered if it would be possible to search for the pattern somehow. Maybe that would give me a clue as to who could have made it. I stood. “Thanks, Cordelia. I appreciate the help.”

She hissed at me. Everybody thinks mermaids are all beauty and seduction. Trust me, they have a mean side. Their teeth are sharp as knives and they can entangle someone in their hair and drag them down to their death. Plus they’ll do it without batting a long, beautifully curled eyelash. “That’s it? You take and you don’t give?”

I dug in my bag for what I’d brought for her. “You know that’s not my way.”

“I know you’d try to get away with it, though.” Her eyes narrowed into slits.

Hard to argue with that. I pulled out the box of chocolates I’d bought and tossed them to her.

She ripped the box open and popped one of them into her mouth. Her head fell back and she made a moaning noise. “Oh, yes,” she murmured.

Cordelia had a wicked sweet tooth, something that was fairly difficult to indulge when you lived in the water.
Chocolate was her special obsession and this was damn fine chocolate. I buy it from a funny little candy shop in Davis that makes the most outrageous truffles I’ve ever tasted.

“You made that look dirty,” I observed.

“It is. It’s very dirty.” She smiled at me. “The most delicious things always are.”

I got back in the Buick and turned on the radio. I’d left a news station on. “Authorities say that a man has escaped from a locked ward at a local mental hospital. Michael Hollinger is to be considered a danger to himself and others. Authorities do not think Mr. Hollinger was armed at the time of his escape, but other sources claim Mr. Hollinger is a police officer with easy access to weapons. The circumstances surrounding Mr. Hollinger’s escape are under investigation and authorities would not comment on how he escaped or if he had assistance.”

“Damn it,” I said, pounding the steering wheel.

I STUCK MY BLUETOOTH IN MY EAR AND STARTED CALLING people as I drove. First on my list were Sophie and then T.J. That covered the dojo. Next up was Ted.

“Michael Hollinger escaped from the psych ward,” I told him.

“Duh,” he replied. “Trust me. I’ve heard. Pretty much everyone in law enforcement has.”

“I don’t think he managed this on his own.” I chewed on my lip as I drove. I suppose it was possible that whatever was possessing him could have given him the strength to bust out of that straitjacket and out of the locked room and ward, but I didn’t think it was likely.

“So you think he had accomplices?” Ted sounded skeptical.

“I think Chuck broke him out. I’m headed up there now to find out what’s happening.”

“Do you want me to meet you?” he offered.

“No. I did want you to know where I was going, though.” It was always prudent. There might well come a day that it did make a difference. I hoped today wasn’t the one.

“Are you sure that’s safe?”

I wasn’t, but he didn’t have to know that. “It’ll be fine. I’m just taking precautions.”

“Call when you know something. Or when you don’t. Just call, okay?”

I assured him I would and hung up. I figured I’d head into town first. Maybe Sam would be at the hardware store and I could get a little background info. He seemed to be on my side. Or, at least, Paul’s side. It might not be my brightest move to burst into a group of werewolves who may or may not have just broken a werewolf halfling out of a psych ward.

A week ago, I might have done it anyway. What was a little danger to life and limb when one of my friends might be in trouble? Now, though? Now it wasn’t just me. It was me and the tadpole. I had precious cargo onboard. Just thinking that made me want to gag a little and I hadn’t barfed in days.

I had thought it, though. Maybe I wouldn’t be quite the disaster of a mother that I thought I might be.

I spent the rest of the drive chewing the thoughts over. I pulled into town and parked down the street from the hardware store a few spaces down from the yarn shop. I got out and started walking toward Kevin’s store, and then turned on my heel and started back toward the car when I saw him walk out of the store and flip the sign in the window to Closed.

Either I moved too quickly and the motion caught Kevin’s
eye, or I didn’t move fast enough and was spotted. Either way, he caught up to me in a few energetic strides.

“Do you have a message for someone?” he asked.

“Nope.” In my pocket, the scrap of netting or lace or whatever it was started to vibrate a little. That was interesting.

“A package?” Kevin pressed and stepped a little closer to me.

I shook my head and backed up a step or two. The silver in my pocket vibrated a little more.

“Why are you here?” He jutted his chin out.

Man, this guy really didn’t like me. I wondered what I’d ever done to him. “I was in the area and thought I’d come through again. It’s really a nice little town.” I smiled.

“Then don’t spoil it. Go back where you belong.” He glared at me.

“I was going to stop by the yarn shop.” I glanced over my shoulder at it. We were practically at its door. “I was thinking about taking up knitting. I’ve heard it’s very relaxing.”

Kevin growled a little. “Leave Inge alone. She’s had enough trouble in her life. She doesn’t need you poking around.” He stood in the center of the sidewalk and glared at me. No way was I getting past him to the hardware store, and even if I did, it’s not like Sam would be able to talk to me at all. Besides, the lace was beginning to vibrate hard enough and heat up sufficiently that I seriously wanted it out of my pocket as soon as possible.

I held up my hands in surrender and went back to the car. I dug the silver out of my pocket before I got in, and then I spread it out in front of me on the dash. It was down from frantic vibrating to emitting only a tingle.

I tried to imagine Kevin carefully weaving or knotting it. It wasn’t easy. It was so delicate and fine. It wasn’t out of the question, though. I remembered pictures of Rosey Grier
doing needlepoint. You really can’t assume anything about the crafts anyone wants to do.