The Gift of Illusion

Chapter Nine





1





At a quarter past eight in the morning, a woman named Virginia Maples entered the Elmwood Police Department. She had a book in her hands, a biography called The Immortal. She had come to give the book to the detective she had seen on the news not even an hour ago.

Yesterday investigators found yet another body, this one at the A-Plus gas station off of Highway 41. This is the fourth body in two days. The victim was in his mid to late forties and had been the manager of the gas station, though the police department has yet to issue his name. Many local residents have viewed their concerns regarding a possible killer on the loose. Phone calls and e-mails have flooded into the station, as well as the police department, but the Chief of Police Donald Stevens issued a formal reply stating that the matter is under control, and that there is nothing for the public to worry about. Still, many believe that investigators aren’t doing enough, and that more bodies will soon be discovered.

Virginia had been paying close attention to the continuing mystery of the strange deaths occurring around town. Cause for concern, not really. But then—

On a related note, Detective Isaac Winters, one of the investigators working the case, had his house broken into last night while he was away. The perpetrator broke through a window and assaulted his sixteen-year-old daughter. The police department has yet to identify the individual responsible but has stated that they are working on a few leads. So far, there appears to be no motive for the break in, and only one object, a small statue (at this point a crudely drawn sketch of the statue had come on the screen) that is believed to be the property of the late James Ackerman, was reported missing from the house.

Crudely drawn, but unmistakable. Virginia knew the statue. She had photographs of it. She knew where it had come from, where it was made, and who the figure was. It was all inside the The Immortal, a book she had written.

The receptionist was typing on a computer when Virginia approached the front desk. “How may I help you?”

“Is Detective Winters on duty today?”

“I’m not sure,” said the receptionist. “Hold on. Let me check.” She picked up the phone and punched in an extension. No response. Then she dialed a different extension.

Virginia set down the book she had brought on the counter and opened the front flap. Then she took a pen from a clipboard nearby and began to write on the title page. The receptionist was now chatting with someone on the phone.

“Okay,” she said to the person on the other end of the line. “Not a problem. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and turned back to Virginia. “I’m sorry. Detective Winters is not in at the moment.”

Virginia set the pen back on the clipboard and closed the book. “I was afraid of that.”

“Was he expecting you?”

“No. I just needed to talk with him. Do you know if he’ll be in later?”

“I really don’t know. He's had some personal issues. Perhaps I could leave a message for him?”

“Yes, if you could give him this.” Virginia picked up the book and handed it to the receptionist.

“What kind of book is it?”

“It’s a biography.”

“Oh I see,” she said. “Well, I’ll be sure he gets it.”

“Thank you so much.”

And that was that.

She reached out.