The Sirena Quest by Michael A. Kahn Read Free Book Online Page B

who actually find these jokes funny? Presumably—fortunately—he was still outside the magazine’s demographics.
    Ray joined him on the couch. He held the sign-in book, his expression was grim. “You are not going to fucking believe this.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œOver the last six months, Abigail Washburn had a grand total of two visitors. Two. And they signed in together three weeks ago.”
    â€œWho?”
    Ray handed him the book and pointed to the entry for April 3rd:
    H. R. Pelham
F. Burke
    Lou leaned back. “Reggie and Frank?”
    Ray slammed his fist into the couch. “I can’t believe those bastards beat us here.”
    â€œWhat bastards?” Brandi asked as she joined them. She had a triumphant expression.
    â€œWell?” Ray asked. “Have fun with the social director of the Bates Motel?”
    â€œRaymond, my darling,” she said playfully, “remember that diamond pendant we saw at the shop in La Jolla?”
    Ray frowned. “Sort of.”
    â€œI earned it today.”
    â€œYeah, yeah. Let’s hear your story first. Did you get beyond the appetizers with that crazy broad?”
    â€œWay beyond the appetizers, my dear. I had the main course. Guess what she has under her bed?”
    â€œA twelve-inch vibrating dildo?”
    â€œA footlocker.”
    â€œLetters?” Lou asked her.
    Brandi nodded. “Including close to a hundred from her brother. Organized in chronological order, with each letter still in its original envelope. We divided them up. She looked through the first half and I looked at every letter from 1955 through his death.”
    â€œAnd?” Lou asked.
    Brandi smiled. “Bingo.”
    â€œNo shit?” Ray looked around and then gestured toward the front door. “Outside.”
    When they were on the parking lot, Ray said, “He told her where?”
    â€œNot where, but who.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Lou asked.
    She turned to Lou. “Apparently, her brother wasn’t the one who hid the statue.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?” Ray asked.
    â€œHe sent her a letter on July 4, 1959—which was about two weeks after he had the statue removed from the college.” Brandi pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her purse. “I wrote down the key paragraph from the letter. Here it is.”
    â€œI was determined,” she read, “to forever rid my school of that accursed harridan. Fortunately, among the sons of Barrett on campus for their reunions was the mastermind of the Homecoming Heist. Alas, he must remain nameless, even to you, my beloved sister. Suffice it to say, I summoned the gentlemen to my home later that evening, explained my decision, and requested his clandestine assistance. He accepted with alacrity. Four days later, I received a pithy message via Western Union: SHE HAS REACHED HER FINAL DESTINATION. My hands trembled as I carried that telegram over to the fireplace in my study, struck a match, lit the corner, and placed the burning slip of yellow paper on the metal grate. As it curled and blackened, I softly uttered, ‘May she rest in eternal peace.’”
    Brandi looked up from the sheet of paper and smiled. “Well?”
    â€œFucking aye.” Ray punched Lou in the shoulder. “We’re in the hunt, dude. I’ve got that book on Sirena at the hotel. I’m sure it’ll have something on the Homecoming Heist, whatever the hell that was. Let’s go.”
    â€œWait,” Lou said, nodding toward the sign-in book, which was still in Ray’s hands. “Perhaps Abigail’s friend Melinda should ask her about Reggie and Frank.”
    â€œOh, yeah. Good thinking.”
    Ray explained the entries to Brandi and described what Reggie Pelham and Frank Burke looked like.
    After Brandi returned to Abigail Washburn’s room, Ray turned to Lou. “You’re on board, right?”
    The question had been looming since