The next day heralded a visit from Lynne and Missile. On the surface it was just a friendly social call, but in truth it was a chance for me and Lynne to catch up. The Little Lady greeted them at the door with as much cheer as she could muster.
"Is Mister Cabanela feeling any better?" she asked as Lynne stepped inside.
"He can finally breathe without choking," Lynne replied optimistically, "though it might be some time before he'll be stepping back into the old dancing shoes. By the way, I heard you were a little down in the dumps, so I brought Missile along," she gestured to the Valiant Doggie as he sat patiently beside her. "He's a master at chasing away the blues, ain'tcha little guy?"
Missile gave a bark to show he was in agreement, then jumped up on the Little Lady and began to lick her face.
"Thanks Lynne," said the Little Lady quietly, "Sissel's been very unsociable lately. He keeps hiding in Daddy's study and I'm sure he knows I'm not allowed in there."
The Little Lady grabbed a moth-eaten sock and began playing tug-of-war with Missile, and Lynne came over to my spot on the couch and gave me a scratch behind the ears.
"That's gotta hurt," Lynne chuckled.
"Can't say I blame her," I replied. "Now's the time she'd be needing me most, after all."
"Speaking of which, what got into you last night?"
I had been dreading this topic. But during the night I had ample time to think of an explanation that wasn't too far from the truth but didn't reveal too much at the same time.
"I didn't live with Jowd and his family in the other timeline," I told her. "Yomiel was the one who ended up adopting me."
"Ah, I see. So he and the other Sissel were your owners. No wonder you were so upset last night."
"Yeah, Yomiel and I were pretty close."
"You must've been happy to see them when we got the call about the head."
"Well, the circumstances weren't favourable, but yes, it was good to see him again."
"If that's all it was," said Lynne, "then why didn't you just say so in the first place, you goose?"
"I didn't think it mattered," I replied.
"Don't you miss them?"
"Well yeah. But that past doesn't exist anymore. I wanted to focus on the life I have now, and for them to do the same. Of course," I sighed, "seeing them in their current situation is really upsetting me. I wish I could help them, but…"
"I'm sure she'll settle down once we catch the Twister," Lynne said. "Speaking of which, I think I might have a lead."
"Really? That's great!"
"Yeah…" Lynne grimaced slightly. "Don't celebrate just yet. I need to convince them to cooperate first."
"Well, who is it?"
Lynne made a face like she had just eaten something incredibly nasty, "Reynard Charivari and his ghost-dad."
I blinked in surprise, "Last time I spoke with him, he wanted nothing to do with us."
"Yeah, but I think I might have the big, juicy carrot that jackass wants," Lynne said slyly. "I've done some research into his dad's case."
"I see. So, what happened old Toon-Face anyway?"
"It's kinda weird, really," said Lynne thoughtfully. "Kenshin Charivari was working as an accountant. Anyway, about an hour before the estimated time of death he calls up the police in a panic, telling them he had uncovered some horrible secret that had been covered up. The next morning, he was found hanging from a fire escape in some back alley. The police at the time ruled it a suicide."
"Is it just me," I mused, "or does something about that scenario sound kinda off?"
"Glad you agree. Cabanela thought it was pretty weird too, when I showed him the file. He said that had he been in charge of the investigation, he would've certainly have dug deeper."
"So you decided to get your hands dirty, eh?" I grinned. "Just how long ago did old Toon-Face die, anyway?"
"Only a week after the Temsik incident," Lynne replied. "So it's very likely that Reynard's hunch about the Twister killing his dad may be right, although I'd like to know how he came to think that."
"I'd gather it'd have something to do with that 'horrible secret'," said I.
"Cabanela and I are gonna call on Ren later today," Lynne said. "Hopefully we can get him and Toon-Face on our side."
"Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go!"
"Great. You go make yourself scarce and I'll get ready to go."
I jumped off the couch and was headed for the study when I was knocked over by Missile barrelling into me as he chased after the rubber ball that the Little Lady had thrown for him.
"Oh! Sorry Sissel!" he yipped.
"It's okay," I laughed. "I have to admit, all this mess with the Twister, I haven't had much time to just have fun."
"What have you been up to, anyway?"
Time doesn't flow the same in the World of the Dead, so I took time to tell him all that had taken place in the past week, including how Loose & Lanky lost his foot and my latest encounter with Yomiel and the Fiancée. Missile showed great interest as I told him how I was having more and more trouble keeping Lynne from uncovering the truth about the Fateful Night.
"You know," Missile twitched his ears and cocked his head to the side, "I've been thinking. Wouldn't it be easier to just tell Miss Lynne the truth?"
"What?" I said, stunned. "No, of course not."
"I think you should," he said.
"No way. Lynne's already got enough on her plate without having to take in the events of the other past, and I don't want to cause more trouble for Yomiel either."
"But what if she finds out anyway?" Missile said anxiously. "She'd get really mad if she found you'd been lying to her, and then she'll be mad at me and Mister Jowd and Mister Yomiel…"
"Seriously Missile, how would she find out?" I scoffed. "Apart from the four of us, there's no one else able to remember that night. Lynne doesn't need to know, so stop worrying about it."
I returned to the World of the Living and continued on to the study, feeling slightly annoyed by my conversation with Missile. I had great respect for the Valiant Little Doggie, but at the time the idea of simply telling Lynne the truth about Yomiel was to me the most absurd suggestion. Making it worse was the nagging feeling that Missile was right. Whether either of us liked it or not, the threads of fate that connected Yomiel and I were beginning to resurface and were in danger of becoming a tangled mess. But I simply shrugged off these fears and doubts as I crawled into the filing cabinet, leaving my body and making my way back to the lounge room and let Lynne know I was ready.
"Are you sure you won't stay for a cup of tea?" the Beloved Mother asked Lynne as she went to leave.
Lynne shook her head, "Can't, I gotta chase up a possible witness." She bent down and gave the Valiant Doggie a pat on the head. "You be good while I'm gone, okay Missile?"
Missile gave a few barks to reassure Lynne he would be on his best behaviour, then, with me in her little pink notebook, she headed out the door and we were on our way to Scrawny's home.
We met up with Loose & Lanky outside of the apartment that Scrawny shared with the Spiky-Haired Rocker. Lynne rapped the door with her knuckles, and from inside there came the sound of groans and fumbles, and the door was opened a crack and the face of the Spiky-Haired Rocker peeked out, squinting his eyes as the sunlight fell on his face.
"Sorry, I'm a Pastafarian…" he muttered sleepily.
"We're not affiliated with any religious groups," Lynne replied.
"Oh," he sniffed. "Well we're not interested in Tupperware or makeup or a new phone service, so…"
"We're not aaaany of those things," Loose & Lanky interrupted, sounding a little peeved. "We're with the city police."
Spiky seemed to wake up all of a sudden at the mention of the police, "Whoa dude, th-that whole thing a week ago, I've already told you guys-!"
"We're not here about that either!" Lynne snapped, as she started to lose patience. "Look, is Reynard home? He's the one we want to talk to."
Spiky chewed on his lip as he though the whole thing over, "Uh yeah, he ain't home right now…?"
Scrawny came from behind Spikey and pushed him back inside, "Outta my way, chucklehead, I'll handle this." He caught sight of Loose & Lanky on his crutch, "Geez dude, what happened to your foot?"
"It got riiiped off while I was escaping a pack of rabid tabloid reporters," Loose & Lanky quipped back.
Scrawny didn't look too impressed, "Yeah, funny. Look, what is it you-?"
"RAID!"
There came a loud crash from the side of the apartment. Lynne and Scrawny rushed over as Loose & Lanky struggled to keep up. One of Spiky's band mates, the Lean & Hairy Rocker, was half-naked and dangling head-first out of the window, having gotten himself stuck.
Spiky's voiced came from inside, "Dude, I don't think they're actually after your special brownies."
Scrawny put a hand to his forehead and let out a groan, "Just wait here so I can get this moron loose…"
"No way," Scrawny replied in disbelief, "You're seriously gonna reopen my dad's case?"
Things back at Scrawny's apartment were a bit chaotic thanks to Spiky and his band mates. It had taken some convincing from Lynne, but eventually he had reluctantly agreed to join her on the steps of the city Courthouse while Loose & Lanky took care of the paperwork to reopen the investigation.
"Scout's honour," beamed Lynne. "I thought it sounded pretty fishy, so I wanna set things right."
Scrawny leaned back, folding his arms and narrowing his eyes, "What's the catch?"
Lynne sighed, "We were hoping you could lay off on our crime scenes, on our witnesses, and on Jowd and his family."
"And to withdraw my witness statement from back at the market square?"
"Well, no," Lynne chewed on a thumbnail. "I can't ask you to lie. You know what you saw, plus it would be pretty weird if you just changed your statement a whole week after the event, and it would conflict with what everyone else says they saw."
Scrawny raised a quizzical eyebrow, but he just shrugged, "That all?"
"One last thing," said Lynne. "We wanna hear your theory on the Twister."
Scrawny fell quiet, and gave Lynne a suspicious sideways glance.
"We know you think the Twister killed your dad all those years ago," Lynne continued. "I need to know why you think that. We'd also like your dad to tell us if he remembers anything about what happened to him. Anything you can tell us could bring us closer to nailing this monster once and for all."
Scrawny tugged at his ear, he shifted in his seat uneasily, "I dunno…"
"Ren," I spoke to him myself, "you don't… you don't trust the police, do you?"
Scrawny gave a scowl. "The cops have been nothing but trouble for me," he said out loud, so everyone could hear. "And by that, I mean before I became a paparazzo. I know I'm a dirt bag," he continued, "but only 'coz it's the only chance I got at finding the truth."
We were all silent for a moment. Then, I spoke to Scrawny again.
"We want to find the truth too," I told him. "I'm not asking us to be friends, Reynard. But I think we both stand to gain a lot by forming a truce. Please, Ren. Your father isn't the only one in need of justice. At least he still has his soul."
Scrawny didn't say anything for a while. "That freaky shit with the Twister being some Lovecraftian nightmare," he said finally, "you were tellin' me the truth back then?"
"It's not the sort of thing I could make up," I'd replied.
"I read the file," Lynne chipped in, "and I don't think your dad killed himself."
Scrawny bit his lip and was quiet for a moment. "Fine," he sighed, and he took an old faded photograph from out of his pocket and showed it to Lynne, "I guess I should tell you what I thi – what I know about the Twister. About my dad."
I possessed the photograph to see for myself. It was an old and faded image of man and a young boy embracing one another. The man was obviously Toon-Face, although his eyes were normal as opposed to those staring blank dots, and the boy I could easily guess to be a much younger Scrawny. It wasn't just the age that was different, though – the expression on the boy's face gave me the impression of an open and friendly child, much like the Little Lady back home. Scrawny must've really taken his father's death very hard to become the gratingly offensive man we knew today.
"My dad worked as an accountant for the deBok household," Scrawny explained. "Sometimes, when he was busy he'd take me along. I usually stayed in the servant's quarters and out of sight. But sometimes," Scrawny's gaze drifted a little, "I was allowed to play with the rich kids. I 'member 'bout sixteen or so years ago, I musta been, oh, five or six, this one kid took a liking to me, don't remember his name," Scrawny took a deep breath, "but he was whacked. Seriously. His favourite 'game' was to hold my head under the water and see how long I could go without breathing. Another time, he got this puppy…" Scrawny looked a little ill. "You do not wanna know what he did to the poor thing. It took so long to die."
"You're kidding me, right?" Lynne said, bewildered. "Just how old was this kid?"
"About twice my age, I reckon." Scrawny replied. "All the kids were terrified of him, including his own cousins, and probably his siblings although I can't recall if he actually had any. Kid was whacked. But his dad was oblivious to all this, doted on that kid, gave him everything he ever wanted. I know it sounds crazy, but it's the gospel truth. This kid, he, well, he was pure evil. That's the only way I can describe it. Anyway, my dad eventually found out and he got pissed. He quit his job and took me away from all that shit, but it wasn't over. He threatened to sue," Scrawny looked Lynne straight in the eye, "he told that kid's dad that he'd expose what a psycho that kid was and they'd lock him up and throw away the key."
Neither Lynne nor I said a word. Were we simply too overcome with shock and disbelief.
"Problem was that the deBok's had their sticky fingers in a lot of fat pies," Scrawny said, "and hands in some very powerful pockets. We didn't stand a chance," Scrawny's gaze fell back to the floor. "Dad decided it was best just to cut our losses and move on. He was still mad, of course, but he knew there was no sense in trying to take those guys on. Then one day, 'bout five years later, dad remembered something…"
"What kinda something?" Lynne tilted her head to the side.
"He never told me what, exactly," Scrawny scratched the back of his head. "All he ever told me was that he had something about that whacko kid that even his dad couldn't ignore, something so awful that he had to expose the truth, no matter the consequences. He went out the door and that was the last time I saw him alive," Scrawny started to tear up a bit. "They found him in some forgotten alleyway…"
There were a few seconds of silence.
"But what I want to know is," Lynne finally asked, "just what makes you think the Twister is the one who killed your father?"
Scrawny looked back up at Lynne, "From the very beginning," he said quietly, "about a day after the Twister killed somebody, he'd send me a letter."
The look on Lynne face was priceless, "What?"
"He'd ask if I remembered those sick little games I was forced to play. He'd boast about how he'd make his latest victim suffer before he killed them. But worst of all," Scrawny said through gritted teeth, "he'd write about how he murdered my dad, about how long it took him to die and…" Scrawny stood up and turned his back to the group.
"You've been getting messages from a wanted serial-killer and you never thought to call the cops?" snapped Lynne.
"Like I said," Scrawny turned back to face us, "I don't trust them."
Lynne shot up from her seat, "Look, I'm sorry that your dad's case was screwed up-"
"No," Scrawny interrupted. "Not screwed up. Paid off. Like I said, the deBoks have their hands in some powerful pockets."
Lynne gawped at Scrawny in shock. "N-now wait just a sec!" she flustered. "You can't honestly believe that the cops were paid to look the other way!"
Scrawny clenched his fists, "I know they were!"
"Easy, you two!" I cut in. "We agreed to cooperate, remember?"
Scrawny and Lynne glared at each other, and for a second or two I was afraid that one of them would go for the other's throat. But thankfully, the two of them sat back down on the Courthouse steps, and all was calm once more.
"So basically," Lynne said as calmly as she could manage, "you think that the kid that tormented you all those years ago killed your dad to shut him up, and that he's now the Twister?"
"Pretty much," said Ren.
"All this stuff you're saying about the deBoks," Lynne fiddled anxiously with her pen, "a sadistic kid, pay-offs, cover-ups, murder. They're pretty harsh accusations to be making against such a powerful family."
"Why do you think I'm stuck working for some crappy tabloid?" Scrawny scoffed. "No serious publication will touch a guy like me."
"Okay then," Lynne muttered to herself, "so doing the math that would mean the Twister is about fifteen."
Scrawny shook his head, "What, being a cop don't require a passing grade? The guy's gotta be mid-twenties by now."
"Not with the Temsik fragment," I reminded Scrawny. "Its effect on time will mean that the Twister will not have aged in ten years. Right Lynne?"
"I dunno," Lynner said thoughtfully. "When Cabanela described the Twister, he said the guy was a grown adult. So while I admit the screwy kid Ren was talking about is good candidate, he doesn't fit the full profile."
"Then explain the letters," snapped Scrawny.
"A kid that messed up couldn't have gone unnoticed," Lynne replied. "Nor do they show up in a vacuum. Someone else in deBok family, or at least working for them, the real Twister, might've influenced that kid and encouraged his sadistic behaviour."
"Where is Toon-Face, anyway?" I asked Scrawny. "I haven't seen his spirit anywhere."
"Yeah, 'bout that," Scrawny rubbed the back of his head anxiously. "Mind if I ask ya somethin', puss-in-boots?"
"Go on."
"Is it normal for a ghost to forget stuff?"
"Yes," I told him. "Usually when a ghost awakens for the first time after dying, they can forget who they are completely. When I first met with your father, he hadn't remembered who he was…"
"And he had that funny cartoonish daruma face," Scrawny finished for me. "Yeah, it was an old joke when I was a kid, that dad had a face like a daruma doll. He even dressed up like one for Halloween, once. That's how I was able to recognise him when I found him, even though he didn't look human at the time. He still hasn't got his eyes back though, which is kinda weird. Among other things."
"Like what?"
"He's remembered who he is, and who I am, that's for certain," Scrawny said. "But everything else is missing. Everything we did together, it's gone. And he can't remember dying, who killed him, even what the 'awful truth' he was going on about before he got iced."
"Ten years seems like a long time to be without your memories," I mused. "Although I've never met a ghost in such circumstances, so it is possible. But in my experience, a ghost will recover all of its memories or not at all."
"You don't think," Scrawny had a look of alarm on his face, "'coz it's taken him so long to remember, he's permanently forgot all that stuff?"
"I… don't know."
"I thought you were supposed to be the expert on this life-after-death shit."
"You flatter me, but the Temsik meteor and the Powers of the Dead are shrouded in many layers of mystery. The appearance of the Twister has pretty much thrown me for the loop in regards to what I thought I knew. But once again, where is Toon-Face?"
Scrawny gave a sigh, "He… ran away."
"Ran away?" Lynne and I exclaimed in unison.
"It's crazy," Scrawny fumed, "every time I try and pump to remember stuff, he throws a hissy fit and runs down the phone line. Usually he's home a few hours later and he apologises and everything, but yesterday…"
"What happened?" asked Lynne.
"I decided to take dad on a little 'mystery tour," explained Scrawny. "Take him to places we used to hang when I was a kid, see if I could kick-start the old gray cells, but we were getting nowhere. I even went past the scene of his murder and not a peep outta him. Finally, I went past the main deBok estate. He freaked," Scrawny groaned. "He did that thing with the scratched-up eyes and started screaming like a girl. He took off down the highway and I haven't seen him since." Scrawny stopped as he noticed Lynne roll her eyes, "You two don't seem surprised."
"Well, no offence," I said cautiously, "but when Lynne and I were first introduced to your father, we found him to be, well, uh…"
"He was an ass," Lynne growled.
Scrawny sighed put his hand to his face, "That's another thing. I know I'm a big jerk, but honestly, that only came after dad died. When he was alive, dad was the single most nicest guy you could ever hope to meet, everybody loved him. But now…" Scrawny leaded his head back against one of the huge marble columns holding up the roof, "it's like he's mutated."
"Well, I guess he did spend ten years all alone," I mused, "and without any memories to boot."
"Nobody noticing him, unable to talk to anyone," said Lynne. "I kinda feel sorry for the guy… even with the whole loofah thing."
"Loofah thing?" Scrawny inquired.
"Don't ask," I replied.
Loose & Lanky came hobbling down the step a few minutes later, a smile on his face. "Aaaall done baby," he chirped. "As of now, we are investigating the death of one Kenshin Charivari."
"Great," said Lynne. "So that's that then."
Both she and Loose & Lanky took out business cards and handed them politely to Scrawny.
"Give us a call when your dad decides to come back," said Lynne. "And if you need anything else, of course."
Scrawny looked at the cards he'd just been handed for a second or two, sniffed, and then roughly shoved them into his pocket. He then turned around and trudged down the steps without saying a word.
"You know," Lynne called out irritably, "usually when someone hand you a business card you're supposed to respond in kind."
"You have my number on file, so why bother," Scrawny called back caustically.
Loose & Lanky gave a sigh, "He may be on ooour side, but he really is an ass."