Earthshaker

Chapter 32

Chapter 32It was already four o'clock by the time we walked out of Late Jim's Diner. Duke had been smart to get us out of there when he did; we still had to find a place to sleep...plus, I had one more stop to make before they rolled up the streets for the night.

I'd found the place on the Internet, so I knew it was right there on Main Street, two blocks up. Going Somewhere? What a great name for a travel agency. I loved the place already, sight unseen.

I loved it even more when I saw the storefront: all bright primary colors, splashes of red and blue and yellow. Giant cartoon eyes bulging out of the window like footlong egg whites with black olive yolks. Two café tables on the sidewalk out in front, topped with red and white striped umbrellas. A white cat sleeping on the front steps...make that a painting of a white cat sleeping on a painting of front steps and a painting of a door on the brick wall. The real door on the opposite side of the front window.

"Here we are." I stood on the sidewalk and took it all in. The place looked more like it belonged in a big city than a one-horse town. I wished my place were as cool-looking as this one.

Duke chuckled. "What a wonderful name. Very attention-getting. Very memorable."

"I'm surprised such a small town even has a travel agency," said Laurel.

"From what I could see on the website, they do a lot of outfitting, too. Setting people up with gear and guides for local wilderness tourism." I headed for the front door...the fake one at first, but I caught myself after two steps. When I opened the real door, the sound of an elephant's roar boomed out of the agency, making me grin and cover my ears at the same time.

Looking around, I saw the place was just as wild on the inside as on the outside. The walls were covered with a mixed bag of objects evoking a wide range of travel—a kayak, a backpack, crossed spears, coconuts, the flags of foreign countries, the stuffed heads of animals, photos of every wonder of the world. The furniture matched the colors of the façade outside—overstuffed armchairs and beanbags and sofas skinned in red and blue and yellow vinyl. The floor was inlaid with foreign currency and postcards; the distant ceiling was hung with inflatable airplanes, ships, cars, and trains.

About the only thing Going Somewhere? had in common with Cruel World Travel was coffee...but the similarity ended at the word "coffee." Instead of a single coffee maker chugging away in the corner, a full-blown coffee bar occupied the entire back wall of Going Somewhere? Which explained the café tables on the sidewalk. The place was part travel agency, part outfitter, and part coffee shop, complete with tall jars of biscotti and a chalkboard menu thick with exotic blends and options.

I breathed in the coffee aroma and smiled. Elbowed Duke in the ribs. "I am so stealing this place and taking it home with me."

Just then, a man's voice called out from the direction of the coffee bar. "Going somewhere?"

I was still smiling. Took a step toward the coffee bar and almost tripped over a real-life white cat that ran out from behind a chair. "We hope so!" I said.

"It better be somewhere interesting," said the voice, "or I'm not coming out there."

"Is Parapets interesting enough?"

"I said interesting, not impossible." The owner of the voice stepped out from between an espresso machine and a milk steamer.

My first thought was this: he was handsome. Six feet four or five inches tall, mid-to-late thirties. Broad shoulders and muscular arms under a black t-shirt with the agency's logo across the chest. Short black hair and a soul patch under his lower lip. Dark-framed glasses over deep blue eyes.

My second thought was this: I liked him. Instinctively.

"Oh, come on," I said. "Nothing's impossible for an experienced travel agent."

The guy laughed and leaned his folded arms on the coffee bar. "Who do you think you are, marching in here telling me what a travel agent can and can't do?"

"I'm a travel agent." I walked up to the coffee bar and stuck out my hand. "Gaia Charmer, Cruel World Travel, Confluence, PA."

The guy laughed louder and shook my hand. "Mahoney Wells, owner and operator. Pleased to meet you."

Turning, I gestured at Duke and Laurel, who stood in the middle of the office. "These are my associates, Duke and Laurel. They're interested in Parapets, too."

"You know what's really interesting?" Mahoney's thick black eyebrows lifted. "Climbing Spruce Knob or Seneca Rocks."

I yawned for effect. "If I wanted to be bored to death, I would've stayed home, Mahoney. Are we gonna have to take our business to another agent?"

"I'm the only one in town." Mahoney sighed and shook his head. "Why the big crush on Parapets, anyway?"

"We're looking for someone," I said. "But that's between you and us."

Mahoney frowned. "Looking for who?"

"We're on a secret mission." I bugged my eyes wide and exaggerated the words like I was kidding. "We're looking for a murderer with access to the geomantic power grid."

"Riiight." Mahoney smirked. "Well, in that case...it's still impossible."

"I don't believe you." I leaned my hip against the coffee bar. "You strike me as a pro. And pros can make things happen. Work the back channels, grease the palms, whatever it takes."

Mahoney chuckled. Flashed the deep dimples on either side of his wide grin. "It's not Area 51 up there, you know. You're not gonna find any aliens or bigfoots or spaceships or star gates."

"What makes you think we're looking for any of those?" said Duke.

"Lots of folks come in here trying to access Parapets," said Mahoney. "And they're all looking for the same thing. They all think it's some kind of paranormal research facility or something."

"Is it?" said Laurel.

"I knew it." Mahoney pushed away from the counter and grabbed a mug the size of a softball. "You people are all the same."

"So is it a paranormal research facility?" said Laurel.

Mahoney shrugged as he filled the mug with coffee from an urn. "Probably, yeah." He laughed and shot me a wink. "Funny stuff's going on up there. Which doesn't mean I can get you on-site to snoop around with your flashlights and alien detector doohickeys and little notebooks."

"No doohickeys." I raised my hand at eye level. "I promise."

"Somebody else promised me that once, too," said Mahoney. "We were fine till he whipped out a laser pointer and half-blinded the chief of security."

"So you did get someone in Parapets," I said.

"Doesn't mean I still can," said Mahoney. "That little incident with the laser pointer—which was by no means the only such incident—was the last straw. Parapets banned all goodwill tours."

"I'll bet you can still finagle one more tour." I tapped the counter with my index finger. "Couldn't hurt to try, could it?"

"Try to get you in there?" Mahoney waved his giant mug full of coffee. "So you can pull a 'demon sniffer' out of your butt or puke up the homemade space virus vaccine you swallowed and start spraying gunk all over the place?"

"Did somebody really do that?" said Laurel.

"That and worse," said Mahoney. "So forget Parapets! How about a nice fishing trip over at Spruce Knob Lake?"

"Okay, look." I planted my palms on the counter and looked dead serious. "I told you the truth. We are looking for someone. We're looking for the son of a b***h who killed my best friend. The trail leads to Parapets."

Mahoney sipped his coffee. Met my gaze over the rim of his mug. His eyes twinkled as he considered me, as he measured what I'd told him against whatever his instinctive reaction to me might be.

I reached out with all my force of will, trying to bring him around. He wasn't a thing of earth or rock, but I tried to influence him anyway. Not just because we needed a way in to Parapets, either, in case Corinne's source didn't come through. There was more to it than that.

I admit it. I was intrigued about the guy. Curious, if you know what I mean. It couldn't hurt to get to know him.

Mahoney put down his mug. "Your reason for going up there sounds as crackpot as all the rest. You should be talking to the police, not me."

"Maybe we already did, genius," I said.

Mahoney snorted. "So what's your plan if you get in there?"

"Use our space alien powers to find the killer." I waggled my fingers like antennae on top of my head. "Beam him back to the mothership."

Mahoney laughed and shook his head. "Now that's a twist. You're not looking for aliens, you are aliens."

"No." Laurel walked to the counter and touched his arm. "Please. We really do need your help. This person we're looking for killed someone I loved, too. We need to take care of it ourselves, understand?"

Mahoney sighed loudly. "No guarantees," he said. "It's highly unlikely I can get you in. And even if I do, I don't know what you hope to accomplish. They won't let you wander around by yourselves, you know."

"Just get us in the door." Laurel smiled that serene, all-knowing smile of hers. "We'll take care of the rest."

"And I'll lose my business, no doubt," said Mahoney. "Which is why you're going to pay through the nose if I pull this off."

Duke fished in his pockets for a moment, then pulled his fists out and walked to the counter. Dropped two handfuls of gleaming gold doubloons on the counter and grinned. "Half up front, right?"

Mahoney was speechless.

"Fine, fine." Duke pointed at the chalkboard menu. "Then how about throwing in a couple of cups of Sumatran Mandheling java to christen the deal?"