A Peculiar String of Bizarre Dreams

Chapter 40: Stealthier than A Cat

Yuna  leaves but I stay seated on the old bench. A breeze  rustles past me; I take a hair tie out of my pocket and pull back my hair,  trying to hold it together like Mamma's, bundled in a casually chic  way.

I  mentally access the list of gemstones I still have in my possession. I  check Dad and Yuna off it and decide to go to Vazouk's next. Have some  coffee, maybe even a slice of pie or something. I'm giddy with  anticipation when Sachelle's rasp breaches my thoughts.

"My immense gratitude to you for alleviating some of my pain."

I take him out of my pocket and reply, "This day is all about alleviating your pain."

"You're no different, you're just like all the others — you use me, you discard me."

"They didn't discard you, they gave you to me. How is that discarding?"

"It's called discarding."

"I promise not to discard you, Sachelle," I sigh. "Not for a while," I add under my breath.

"That makes me feel so valuable," he drawls dramatically.

"It's what's inside that counts," I pat the bulk sticking out at the center of the pouch.

"You're a cruel cruel girl," he growls as I laugh, and put him back in my pocket.

I  stand and stretch my arms a little before walking over to Words Haven  Cafe. Some families have their baskets open and I see iced tea and  sandwiches laid out on their picnic blankets. It's almost lunch time, and the  sun is high up in the blue sky. Summer isn't very hot this time  around in Avian Oaks and it's reasonably pleasant.

I see a  stray cat running behind a squirrel. The squirrel scrambles around and  climbs a tree; the furry orange cat meows at it in anger, its claws  repeatedly outstretch in failing attempts to climb the tree like the  squirrel. Then, children begin to chase the cat around with a stick. One  adoring youngster tries to hug the feline, while another tries to climb  the tree to catch hold of the squirrel.

I  smile to myself, and then glance at the lake on my left. Its water glistens silver under the noon sun and at some places, the clouds above reflect off its surface. I notice a woman sitting on a bench  facing the lake. My gaze stays fixed on her till her familiarity  strikes me. Marion Sanders, one of my many favourite people.

I descend a hilly grass patch, down towards the lake and walk over to greet her, "Hey Marion!"

"Jemma!  Is that you? Oh, what a pleasant surprise!" She exclaims and proceeds to take a sip of her lemonade. A red moleskin notebook rests open on her lap, with  an interrupted pen tucked into its spine.

In  an elegant white cotton suit and her ginger-white hair pinned back in a  chignon, Marion makes a stunning role model for aging women all around  town. Her green eyes crinkle and wrinkle as she holds a hand to her  forehead to shade them from the glorious sunlight.

"How's  the Coldplay case coming along?" I ask her, a little out of breath from  my not-conventionally-considered-hard trek down the hill.

"Oh,  it's coming along fine. I spoke to some of the parents." When she  realizes I look slightly confused, she adds, "parents of the suspects,  the accused children. They're all being very cryptic. They think I'm a  good-for-nothing lady, who has too much time on her hands," she huffs  dismissively. "The townspeople don't trust me as they once used to."

"That's  not possible, Marion. Everyone in Avian Oaks knows how credible you  are. You always solve your crimes, there has not been one case that you  haven't been able to solve. And you only started a few months ago!"

Marion's  thin lips turn at their edges with reaffirmed confidence, "You're  sweet, dear Jemma. But people tend to forget everything. When they hear of  me, they imagine a bold woman clad in a catsuit, saving the world one  dunce at a time." I laugh as she continues, "But you see, when  they actually see me, all they see is an old crow."

"That's ridiculous, Marion. I think you would look perfectly intimidating and bold clad in a catsuit."

She laughs and unconvincingly shakes her head at me.  "Do your notes indicate that you'll solve this case soon?" I ask.

"I'm  not sure. I'm re-reading some of the quotes I got from the students.  Like, this one fellow here says, 'The school never actually bought the  concert tickets and just needed some attention in the town's newspaper.'  And since the story of the lost tickets made it to the front page, I'm  actually starting to think the kid might be right. But suspects are  suspects, so I'm not too sure which direction I'm going in with this  case."

"Sounds  like that kid put a lot of thought into this ticket disappearing thing.  His theory sounds plausible but I think you should talk to him again.  He definitely sounds like a suspect, in my highly inexperienced  opinion." Marion considers this thoughtfully and nods.

"Oh,  I almost forgot, I have something for you!" I peer into the contents of  Sachelle, retrieve the appropriate gemstone, and hand it to Marion.

"Obsidian! This is lovely, Jemma."

"Oh, you know about it?"

"Just that it is a type of stone. I worked with gems once, a long long time ago." I see memories twinkle behind her kind eyes.

"I  was thinking about how you said you would like the Cloak of  Invisibility. And I found this instead. Obsidian is said to aid with  invisibility. I'm thinking it might make you stealthier than a cat, and  that should help you catch your suspect soon," I gleefully report.

Marion  laughs, amused by my superior inferential skills. "That's clever of you, Jemma. I hope you're right. Stealth would be much  appreciated at my age. I would prefer invisibility though — going  invisible whenever I like, ah, that'll be excellent! I'm going to carry  this stone with me and if you don't see me around after a while, you'll  know what happened," she says with a wink.

And I grin back  affectionately at the private detective.