The Black Ibis Cases - Chapter 3

Old. The air was heavy with the scent of old books as soon as I went through the door. The smell of old books was one of the prevalent odors I could distinguish as part of the mixture entering my nostrils, but there was more. Old wood, varnish and dust seemed to dominate over everything else in the archeology building apart from the stories of the objects from which the scents emanated.

The interior was far less sterile than the informatics building and seemed to reflect the chaotic nature of the past splendidly. This place was like a small museum of antiquity with various display cases bordering the walls. A case caught my eye that was full of masks and artifacts from what I could only guess was Africa or maybe even South America. There were others filled with old tools and pictures from Oakport’s past, mostly logging and fishing tools. A few pedestals stood here and there in abandon with no discernable pattern of placement between country or culture, or time. Perhaps their odd placement was on purpose, to force students and visitors alike to watch their steps and therefore, look at the objects on display.

If the latter was the case, it achieved its purpose with me. I felt my step slowing as I crossed the mottled marble pedestals and admired their contents – which were solidly secured with steel wires and behind thick glass cases. The first I passed was a Greek amphora that depicted a hunting scene, or at least that’s what I got from it. The second and third ones had a bust of Cleopatra and Marcus Antonius, seemingly the only items placed with purpose, facing opposite one another as though they were looking at the other through their marble eyes as they did in life. The fourth and final pedestal I passed supported a palm sized perfectly smooth and shaped obsidian bowl.

I found Erica Kent’s office, room H-232, rather quickly as the hallway leading to it was filled with copies of hieroglyphs, pictures of explorers digging out pyramids and standing in front of their discoveries, and a few small display cases with old coins, pottery, and tools.

I knocked on the door to room H-232 even though it was open. A young woman responded from inside, without raising her head, “What is it?”

“Erica Kent? I have some questions for you.”

“Doctor Kent, if you would,” the lack of mention of her title got her to raise her head and look at me. She was younger than I had expected, especially for someone with the title of doctor. She was in her late twenties, and her face was framed by her black hair, cut in a bob as if to create a window from which the rest of her would emerge. I could see her green eyes looking me up and now as though she were evaluating me. She spoke with a British accent, and her country of origin was confirmed by the diploma from Cambridge hanging behind her, at the center of all her Egypt-related items. “Are you going to keep gawking or is there something you need?” She asked, snapping me out of my observations. “And for god’s sake, identify yourself.”

Before I could answer, my attention was caught by a small statuette, and I simply couldn’t see or think of anything else in that moment. I looked at the long and slender beak leading to a stocky body before it ended in stilt-like legs, and I felt mesmerized and confused as I realized I was staring at a statue of an ibis. Not any carving of the bird either, this one was made from black onyx. It was exquisitely detailed, especially for an item I could only assume was an antique. Even from the entrance of the room, I could see the details of its eyes, the joints on its legs, and even the feathers on its body. It must have taken a long time and a great deal of skill to craft, to make look as though the stone bird was about to start walking or take flight.

I only managed to peel myself away from the black bird because something started creeping on the back of my mind, a sort of dread I couldn’t explain, even now as I write this. I heard a sound like a breeze, and on it was carried a voice like a whisper. I couldn’t make out the words though, no matter how much I tried to understand it. As much as I had enjoyed looking at the delicately crafted ibis before the feeling came over me, I knew I should avoid looking at it again.

I snapped back to attention suddenly and had no idea how long I’d been standing there. Erica was looking at me with an annoyed look. “Sorry, Doctor Kent, I was just admiring your collection. I’m Sam Patterson, private investigator.” I made sure to put enough emphasis on the word doctor to satisfy her ego, though she winced distastefully as I said the word. My sarcasm wasn’t lost on her. I stepped inside her office, as I figured the invitation to do so was unlikely to be extended. “I was told you were one of Leonard Michaels’s professors and I would like to ask you some questions about him.”

She considered me for a moment, then looked over at her clock. “Make it quick mister, I have a class starting soon. Need to train the next generation of researchers, etcetera, etcetera,” she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest.

“What can you tell me about Leonard?”

“He’s a rather brilliant student of mine. He visited me often to discuss the subjects I brought up in class, though sometimes we drifted off into more … in depth conversations.”

“Have you noticed any strange behaviors lately?”

“Other than his disappearance? Not at all. He chatted with fellow students about things he read in books and papers as he usually did. He was a very sociable young man.”

“You keep referring to him in the past tense, is there a reason for that?”

“I can’t say that he’s currently doing these things now, can I? He hasn’t been in class for days, therefore, it’s in the past mister Patterson,” she responded curtly before taking a sip from a cup to her right. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go to my class.

I stepped in front of the space between her desk and the door, barring it with my body. “A minute or two more will only make you fashionably late,” I tried to smile charmingly, but it seemed to be lost on her.

She let out an exacerbated sigh, “Fine. What else?”

“Could you tell me the names of some of the students he spoke with? They may know more about his whereabouts or plans.”

She paused and thought for a moment. “He seemed rather chummy with James Cooper, perhaps you should ask him.” She stated the last part of her sentence with authority, telling me I should go away.

“James Cooper? Do you mean detective Cooper’s son?” I was surprised to hear the name, mostly because I hadn’t realized the kid was a young man now. If I was right, this could be a lucky break for me, but it might spell trouble for the Coopers. I would have to handle things even more delicately than I anticipated if my friend’s family was involved in some way.

“I don’t know, I only deal with the students for a finite amount of time and not enough to know about their families.” She tapped her foot impatiently now. “Now if you’ll excuse me, mister Patterson.” She motioned me out.

“Detective Patterson,” I answered coyly before slowly stepping aside. I couldn’t help but to grin as she rolled her eyes at my response.

Doctor Kent closed the door as soon as we were both out. We walked together along the corridor as the exit was in the same direction as her classroom, though no words were exchanged. Suddenly, she turned towards a door filled with students.

“Have a nice class,” I said as pleasantly as I could fake. She didn’t answer back to me, and the door closed behind her with a click and a thud, effectively ending our discussion. I had a feeling she and I wouldn’t become friends.

I could have stayed on campus for a while longer and ask around more, but I had a feeling I’d only hear the same information again from everyone I’d speak to. Except for James Cooper that is. I knew there were probably others going by that name, but it would be a big coincidence to have another person by the same name and same age group as my former colleague’s son.

Armed with this information, I drove off to the Coopers’ apartment and arrived shortly before four. Their car wasn’t in any parking space, so I figured I’d kill time by walking down the block and getting a hot dog.

The sky was getting cloudy and there was a cold chill in the air, meaning the first snow fall was on its way. Aside from the pain of dealing with slippery streets and shoveling out cars, I didn’t mind the winter as much as other people did. There’s a quiet stillness about the cold season that I find comforting and watching snow fall brings back good memories of the old days, no matter how long ago they were.

I thought about happier days from when I was a kid, and from when I had a family of my own. I never had much time to play with Franklyn back then, but those are some of my favorite memories and I always regret working so hard and so long that I failed to make more time for him. Hence, the divorce.

I washed down the hot dog and memories with a gulp from my flask, just as Charles’s brown chevy pulled into view. He had had that car for as long as I could remember, and it was impossible not to recognize its dented hood. I waited for him to finish parking before coming out.

I caught up to him just before he opened the door to his building. “How are you doing Charles?”

Charles was startled and nearly dropped his keys. He turned around clutching his chest. He was a thin man, not much older than me, but his heart had been giving him trouble for a while. Even when we were partners, he often had to give up on chases because his heart was about to give out. I couldn’t imagine the added years would do anything to reverse that.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” He took in a few deep breaths to settle himself. “What are you doing here Sam?” He scratched his greying hair, now a proper salt and pepper mix.

“What? No ‘Hello, how have you been?’”

“No need to ask, I can smell how you’ve been,” he wafted the air between us, grinning.

“Very funny. I dropped by to thank you for that little gift you sent over my way.”

“The Michaels kid?” He asked, as if he didn’t already know the answer.

“No, the tooth fairy. Of course, I’m talking about the Michaels kid.”

“So, how’s that going?” He asked, growing suddenly interested in my work, a spark of excitement and curiosity in his eyes.

“Are we just going to chat out here in the cold or are you going to invite me in?” I asked, pulling my coat tighter around myself to remind him of the growing cold weather.

“Come on, Sam, you know Patty hates it when guests are over for dinner.”

“What about old friends then?” I gave him a sly smile. I knew he just couldn’t resist, even if he knew my tricks, he just couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, fine. You look like you could use a non-liquid diet for a change anyways.” He unlocked the door and gave me a tap on the shoulder. “Are you coming up or just standing there?”

I followed him up the five flights of stairs up to his apartment. The staircase was nothing but different shades of grey, broken up by the brown dirt that graced the tiles. We finally made it to Charles’s home, and the smell of a home-cooked lasagna filled my nose as soon as the door opened.

I had always found Charles’s and Patty’s taste in decoration tacky. There were flowers everywhere, on the plates, on the chairs, in some framed pictures between family portraits and vacation photos, in vases in the middle of the table, and so on. The only space that was spared a floral pattern was Charles’s recliner, his throne so to say, which was a near-identical brown to his car. Baubles that said, ‘there’s no place like home’ and other common things were abundant, and crafts and drawings made by James and his sister Vicky when they were little could still be seen here and there. The apartment was tacky, but even I must admit that it ultimately felt homely no matter what.

“Welcome home dear.” Said Patty as she turned around from the oven. Her red hair had started to grey out in a few streaks near the top of her head since I last saw her. Her expression soured a bit when she saw someone behind Charles and grew more severe when she saw it was me. “Look what the cat dragged in! Come on in, don’t stand in the doorway!” She had never liked me, but she was nothing if not an exemplary hostess regardless of her feelings towards company or whom that company was. She had been an elementary school teacher for a few years but decided to stay at home once children came into the picture. From the looks of it, she never regretted her choice.

“Don’t just stand there, have a seat,” she said as she pointed to a chair by the wall. I knew from previous visits that I had to bring the chair over and set it at the table, or risk vexing Patty. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and not staying for dinner wasn’t an option once I had crossed the threshold. “So, what brings you in?” She asked, as Charles gave her a peck on the cheek before heading off to change out of his work clothes.

“I was just in the neighborhood, and I saw Charles drive by me. I thought it would be rude not to say hello at the very least, and so I’m here now.”

“Come one, just admit you missed Charles,” she laughed as she pulled out some plates and utensils.

“Hard not to miss your only friend!” Charles said with a laugh from further down the apartment.

“Come on Charles! That’s not very nice! He has one more friend!” Patty made a drinking motion. I suddenly felt thirsty.

The door opened at that moment, to my relief, and Vicky came through. She was a lean girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen now by my guess, and her hair was a bright red like her mother’s used to be. Her blue eyes lit up when she saw me. “Uncle Sam! How are you?” She ran over to hug me, dropping her school bag to the ground with a heavy thud.

“Managing. Or rather, detecting.” This had always been her favorite joke when she was younger, and it still made her laugh.

“How was school, dear?” Asked Charles as he entered the living room now dressed in grey slacks and a blue knit sweater bearing the mark of Patty on the left breast: a pink flower.

“You know, just same old boring classes,” she said as she picked up her heavy bag from the floor. She pulled out some heavy books from her bag and put them on the coffee table in the living room. I couldn’t see all their titles, but some looked like advanced chemistry. Or at least, advanced for high school. “What are we having, mom?”

“Lasagna. Come and sit, it’s ready,” replied Patty as she took out the steaming tray from the oven.

Just as she closed the oven door, the front door opened once again, and this time it was James that came through. He seemed surprised to see me. “Uncle Sam? What are you doing here?”

“James Cooper! That’s no way to greet a guest!” Patty chastised as she served out the food.”

“I’m sorry, I mean… I’m just surprised to see you, uncle,” he said before coming in for a hug. His reaction was unusual, as he usually had the same enthusiasm as his sister when he saw me, ever since he was a toddler.

Everything felt strange to me. It was the first time I had come over for ulterior motives. Well, to be honest it wasn’t, as I had stopped over for food or to escape my own life for a few hours, but I had never come over to interrogate one of them before. I couldn’t just put the screws to the boy either, he was practically family.

We sat and ate as the family told one another about their day, making small talk. I answered their questions as to how I was doing with the usual ‘doing fine’, ‘keeping busy’, and other banalities as I mulled over how to bring up the purpose of my visit without upsetting anyone.

Thankfully, Charles did that for me.

“So, Sam, you were telling me about that client I sent over to you, remember? The Michaels boy? How’s that one going?” He stopped chewing and looked at me intently. I could see something in his eyes, like he was reading me.

I wiped my mouth before speaking. “There isn’t much to tell yet. I do find it odd that everyone that seemed to know the kid, didn’t really know anything about him or his plans, or what he did on his own time, save going to the arcade. His disappearance is very strange for someone that stays out of trouble and appears to live a quiet life. I even went over to Oakport U, and the wildest thing about him was that he had an introduction class to Egyptology, and he’s into computers! Can you believe that?” I took a sip of water and locked eyes on James, who seemed to stiffen as I mentioned where I’d gotten so far.

“Don’t you have that class too?” Asked Vicky to her brother, just as I had hoped she would.

“Y-yes, I do,” James responded reluctantly. He watched his father’s eyes fix on him.

“Is that so? That’s lucky for me then.” I asked innocently, as though this hadn’t been my reason to come from the very start. I pulled out my note pad and pen. “So, you know Leonard Michaels then, correct?”

“Well, yes, we… we’re both in that class,” he answered with hesitation.

“What can you tell me about him?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard by now, I guess,” he got a drink of water to give himself time to think. “He mostly kept to himself, and we only talked a few times. He mostly talked about going over to Professor Kent’s to see her artifact collection and meet up with other students with similar interests. He tried to get me to come a few times, but I was too uncomfortable to go hang out at a professor’s place.”

“Is that so? She told me nothing about this when I talked to her earlier. I’ll have to ask her about this later, it would seem,” I jotted down the information quickly before looking back up to James. “Anything else you care to tell me?” I asked not only as an investigator this time, but as a concerned friend. I could see Charles looking at me from the corner of my eye, and I knew at once from the squinting of his eyes that he was on to me, and he knew my visit wasn’t just a coincidence.

“No, I don’t think so. Unless Lenny’s fascination with ancient Egypt and their gods is relevant,” he laughed to alleviate the tension that was in the air as his mother and sister were piecing together what was going on.

I closed my note pad and put it back into my breast pocket. “Alright. Sorry about putting you on the spot like that. You know how it is,” I gave Charles a nudge with my elbow, as the son of any good detective would know how our minds are always scrolling through evidence or on the lookout for any clue.

We finished the meal in awkward silence, broken up by more banalities like complementing Patty’s cooking and the few snowflakes that were visible through the window. I tried to help clear out the table and clean the dishes when we were done eating, but Patty insisted on doing it all herself.

I felt as though my welcome had been overstayed and got ready to make myself scarce. James and Vicky hugged me goodbye, though James held me tighter than he usually did, and I stepped out the door.

“Hold on, Sam. I’m coming out with you. I could use a smoke.” Charles put on his shoes and followed me outside as Patty’s lips couldn’t resist turning to a frown. She didn’t smoke, and Charles was trying to quit, even though he wasn’t a heavy smoker, and barely a habitual one. He usually smoked when he felt stressed about something. To Patty, being the bad influence on her husband that I am, or so she felt, coming around meant that his bad habits would resurface once more.

The walk down the stairs was silent. All I could hear was my footsteps and Charles’ echoing down the stairwell. The silence was both uncomfortable and unusual. We got out of the building in the cool air and watched the sparse snow falling for a moment.

I handed him a cigarette before taking one out for myself, then I lit us both up. The tension that was between us released a little with that first intake. After what felt like an hour, Charles finally turned to me.

“So, you only dropped by for your investigation?” He asked vexedly.

“That’s one reason, sure. Honestly though, I was concerned when Kent mentioned James. She couldn’t seem to remember the names of most of her students and yet she remembered both him and Leonard. I thought it would be a good idea to drop by and check if you were alright.”

“I don’t know what you’re doing here, Sam, but if James is involved…” he cut off his own sentence.

“He’s a smart kid, so is Vicky. They both know better than to get involved in… whatever I’m looking into.” I took a long drag and shared a mocking look with Charles. “And if they’re not, you can count on me to drag them out of that mess.”

Charles copied my laugh. “I know you would.” He looked at the ground for a bit, clearly choosing his words. “I know things aren’t easy for you right now. If you need anything, just give me a call.”

“I will, pal, I will.” I answered as I put my cigarette out. I went back to my car as he waved me goodbye. I looked back in my mirror just in time to see him drop his keys in the fresh snow and swear before shaking them off and opening the door, then disappearing inside the building.

I thought about what the Coopers might be doing or talking about right now. I imagined Charles was helping Patty was the dishes before sitting down to read the paper in his chair. James and Vicky were probably working on whatever project they had for their classes, maybe studying for exams, and Patty was probably knitting something or another. I never told Charles, but I was jealous of him.

I chased my imagination away as the case I was working came back into focus. I stopped at the nearest pay phone I could find and started looking through it to find Erica Kent’s address. I felt I ought to pay her a visit, as she seemed to keep a very open-door policy with her students.

I was so focused on my research in the dim light that I didn’t hear the man walking towards me; just someone who wanted to use the pay phone, I figured. I had only just noted down the address – 1195 Reservoir Road, a wooded area on the outskirts of town – when I felt something hit me in the kidneys.

I bent and recoiled at the pain, trying to get away, but the person attacking me was on me again before I had even fully raised my arms to protect myself. I got hit by a solid left next to my eye and was laid out on the floor hard. My attacker kicked me in the ribs once, and as he readied himself to hit again, I sprang at his supporting leg and took him down with me. My training was kicking in. Honestly, I never was that good of a fighter, but I could make just about anyone regret tangling with me no matter the outcome.

He was bigger than me, but I knocked the wind out of him when he landed on the sidewalk. I got on top of him and started punching. I managed to hit his face a few times, but he blocked most of my blows with his arms. I regained some of my faculties and tried to find any recognizable features of my attacker, though there was little of his face I could see in the dim light. He was Caucasian and had a thick, hairless jaw, this I could be sure of.

I didn’t see the fist coming my way because I was too busy trying to identify the man I was fighting, and I was caught on the right of my jaw, then pushed off. I was fighting to remain conscious, but I got to my feet at the same time as he did. I wobbled into a boxing stance and flicked my fingers at him to tell him to come at me. I could feel the blood pooling in my mouth and the iron taste mixed with adrenaline convinced me I was ready for more, even though I was hunched over forward.

I advanced on my attacker slowly, but he turned around and ran off. He moved faster than I could follow, so I didn’t bother with a chase I knew would only leave me winded and empty-handed.

I sat against the hood of my car and caught my breath for a moment. I felt my hands shaking and reached for my flask to help me calm down. The whiskey stung as it got into my mouth, but at least it would help sterilize the wounds, or at least so I laughed to myself.

I watched the darkness for a few minutes, waiting to see or hear anything from my attacker, but the streets remained silent. I picked up my notes and got back into my car before driving away as fast as I could.

I tried to puzzle the reason for the attack in my mind, but it made little sense. A mugger, for instance, especially a big one, would have just pushed me into the booth and pressed me against the glass while he took my wallet. No, this was no random attack. This felt like a message … or a warning.

Whatever that was, I knew that this case just exploded in my face. I wasn’t just looking for some kid, someone was looking for me.