The Labyrinth of Blue Towers:
The Disappearance of Jack Arneson
(A Sewing Box Mystery)
Chapter 1: Friday, June 10, 2011, 7:21 pm
Chapter 2: Saturday, June 11, 2011, 8:38 am
Chapter 3: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 10:10 am
Chapter 8: Tuesday, July 22, 1997, 9:22 am
The Memorial of Saint Mary Magdalene
“Grandma?”
The voice on the other end of the phone belonged to none other than Jean’s favorite person in the whole wide world, her granddaughter. Missy. Just the sound of it did Jean’s heart a world of good; she missed her so much. Ever since Missy left for college last fall, Jean had begun to feel more and more isolated from the world. With Missy there, Jean had been peripherally involved in all the rites of passage associated with a young girl growing up. The previous year there had been senior pictures, concerts, prom, award ceremonies, college applications, and graduation. Once that whirlwind had passed, Jean felt as though she had been left sitting in the dust after the circus left town. She’d felt rather disappointed when Missy announced that she had decided to not come home for the summer. Instead, her granddaughter was taking summer courses and working full-time. Missy had a good head on her shoulders and a very busy schedule. Thankfully, she still managed to call frequently enough that Jean felt a part of her life.
“Missy! Hi! How are you, hon?”
“I’m doing fine How about you?”
Missy had turned out all right; a little on the heavy side (much to Dorie’s chagrin - which made no sense, especially in light of all the sugar she'd fed her as a child), but she had an extremely pretty face, a great sense of humor and an infectious laugh. There was an energy to the girl that was contagious; people seemed drawn to her, especially boys. Throughout Missy’s high school years, Jean had been on guard whenever a new young man came-a-calling. She had hoped that this was not an instance of history repeating itself; Jean didn't want Missy to turn out like her mother. But as Missy matured, Jean relaxed a bit, for there seemed little chance of that happening. Missy was very grounded, considerate and kind. Rather than leaving her bitter, the bit of teasing she’d experienced due to her weight had left her conscientious and sensitive to the feelings of others. All in all, a delightful girl; one Jean took much of the credit for, although Jeanette had a lot to do with it too.
“I’m good. I was just sitting down catch the news. Have you been following it?”
Missy groaned, “It’s all anybody on campus talks about and it makes absolutely no sense. Why would anyone kill Versace?”
“Dear, I don’t even know what that is, but the man they’re accusing is from Minnesota!”
“Really?” Missy balked. “Are you sure? I think they said he’s originally from California.”
“Oh. That would make more sense. But he’s wanted in connection to a couple of murders here in the cities, too.” Jean paused before continuing, for the words felt strange and caught in her mouth. “Gay murders.”
They talked for half an hour about the particulars of the on-going investigation. Andrew Cunanan was still on the loose and Missy was convinced he’d get away, for he seemed well- connected. Yep, money talks; the guilty walk, or so O.J. had taught them, but Jean remained unconvinced.
“Anyway,” Missy interrupted, changing the subject, “speaking of famous crimes... you will never guess who is coming to campus next week to give a talk - Valerie Arneson!”
The name alone caused Jean’s heart to ache. That poor woman and all that she’d been through.
Missy continued, excitedly, “I was wondering if you wanted to come up and hear her. She'll be here on Thursday, and her presentation is at 7:00 pm. It’s free to the public. You might even get a chance to meet her. ”
Jean remained mum. Meet her? And say what? What could she do? Hand the woman her hand-drawn map and tell her all about the wild dreams she keeps having?
On the other end of the phone, Missy seemed to sense that something was up. “Well, you know, if you don’t want to come. I’ll understand. I just thought it would be a chance for us to get together. You could take me out to eat. I’m getting a little sick of Ramen Noodles and Mac and Cheese.” Missy thought her last comment would get a laugh out of her grandmother, but instead, Jean remained distant. “Grandma, are you okay? Is everything all right?”
Hearing the concern in her granddaughter’s voice, Jean snapped to, “Yes, of course, of course. Everything’s just fine. I’m fine.” She then tried to change the subject. “So glad the summer is finally here. Seemed to take forever this year.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re doing fine. Then you'll come see me on Thursday?”
Again, Jean hesitated It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see Missy. Of course she did. It was that she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see that Arneson woman. Was she being silly? What difference could it make, really? Who knows, it might actually help put an end to the dreams... well, at least those dreams. “Of course I’ll be up. What time is your last class? I'll take you shopping and for a bite to eat before the... lecture?”
“Talk She’s just giving a talk. About some new bill the house has introduced regarding the privacy rights of sex offenders. I think she’s using it as a jumping off point to run for office in ‘98 ”
"Oh.” Politics left Jean cold. Still, how bad could it be? “You know what? Let's just play it by ear If we get there, we get there, okay? Can't wait to see you Should I pick you up in front of your dorm?”
“That would be super My last class is at four, so how about we meet at 4:30?”
“I’ll be there with bells on. Love you.”
“I love you, too. Grandma. Hey, I gotta jet to class. See you on Thursday.”
The phone in Jean’s hand went dead; the ensuing silence, a bit overwhelming. She really did miss that girl. The house seemed so empty these days. Thank God Missy’s father had stepped up to the plate, done the right thing (for once), and was paying for college. He’d wanted her to go to Arizona State, but Jean thought that was too far away and held firm.
Good thing he'd finally agreed. Heaven knows Jean would have never been able to pay for it on her own. She was barely able to keep up with all the house repairs. And Dorie? Dorie acted as if she didn’t even have a daughter. The only time she showed any interest in Missy was... well, never, really. Unless Dorie could share the spotlight she wasn’t interested. In many ways. Missy was far more mature than her mother was or was ever likely to be.
Replacing the phone in its rechargeable base, Jean glanced at the calendar on the fridge. Jeanette would be dropping by on Wednesday night. Maybe Jean could convince her to hold off until Thursday instead. That way Jean wouldn’t have to make the trip to Duluth by herself. She could, of course, for she had no problem driving, even at night, but she’d sure like the company. As it was, Jean spent far too much time alone with her own thoughts.
Besides, Jeanette was kind of a hoot to have a round. She always managed to find the humor in things. A real shame she’d never married, but then Jean guessed that the right man hadn't come along - yet. She made a mental note to give Jeanette a ring later in the evening. Right now, she wanted to catch the national news and catch up on the happenings in Miami.
As she began to enter the living room, a flash of light went off in Jean's head. Flames. Brilliant flames, hot and unyielding. She stopped cold in the doorway, grabbing its frame to steady herself Oh, no, not again. Her head felt abuzz with electricity, her ears stuffed with cotton. Was she getting an ear infection? No Of course not. Then the buzz was replaced with a prodding throb which she knew only too well. It was happening again; another migraine, or at least what Jean considered a migraine -she’d never actually consulted a doctor about her little episodes. She kept hoping they would go away on their own. Jean reached out for the back of the sofa. Using it to support herself, she lurched toward her armchair. Falling heavily into place, Jean’s head lolled back. She began to inhale and exhale as deeply as she possibly could. Hopefully she wouldn’t get sick to her stomach this time.
These episodes were becoming more commonplace now. Anytime she came in contact with some random element associated with one of the subjects of her dreams an image would flash inside her head. When it came to the Arneson boy, it was flames, always flames. Their intensity seared the inside of her brain and left her in agony for hours after. Jean wondered if it was guilt that brought on these episodes; guilt for not having gone to the police or an interested party, guilt for not having spoken her truth. For it was the truth - of that much she was certain.
For whatever reason, her nights were now crowded with dreams; journeys and stories belonging to people she had never met, featuring events she relived, and places she revisited over and over again. Some, like the Arneson boy, she knew she could no longer do anything about. It was too late. What’s done was done. She did her best to accept that. Still, living with such knowledge was not easy. At times, Jean questioned her sanity. And she wasn’t the only one...
Terri had recently suggested that Jean go get a CAT scan done. She thought maybe there was a logical, medical explanation for her colorful dreams. Jean had given it serious consideration, but in the end was too afraid; afraid of what they might find and afraid what it might cost, for she had no health insurance. Besides, that kind of thing felt like something out of an episode of the Twilight Zone. What she was experiencing seemed less fantastic, much more organic in nature. It was simple, really; they were just dreams. She floated in and out of them, having no control over where she went or whom she visited. They couldn’t do her any real harm. But if that was true, then why did she feel so haunted? For she was haunted, especially by the subject of her first dreams; Jack Arneson.
Whenever Jean happened into the world once inhabited by Jack, she felt sure in her bones that the boy was no longer there... at least, not in the flesh. In spite of this, she continued to be drawn there, retracing paths that had worn their way into her memory. She was now so familiar with the layout she'd actually drawn a map of sorts. Did this place really exist? How could she ever know? She'd also begun a list; things which she’d noticed or come upon during her wanderings there. Things that had caught her eye and might help identify the location where the boy had been kept. For, without Jack around, she had lots of time to study her surroundings, such as the work bench and items outside the window.
One of her most recent discoveries had to do with a pair of nearly identical statues she’d stumbled upon. One was outside the tiny window, to the right, hidden behind a sanctuary of vines. The other had been stashed under a blanket next to the work bench. The blanket just happened to be very similar to the one that used to lie on Jack’s cot in the makeshift room with the metal door; a room which, for some reason, Jean no longer had access to. Both statues depicted a bearded man wearing robes with one hand held aloft, as if bestowing a blessing, while in the other; he held a set of keys. Jean suspected the statues were religious in nature, perhaps a saint of some sort, but which? She would have to pay a visit to the library.
The statue in the basement had been neglected, its paint chipped and flaking, lending it a somber, gothic tone. In contrast, the one outside shone quite brilliantly, as if the elements had no affect on it at all. Jean hadn’t noticed the statue outside before because she'd always concentrated on the things directly in front of the window. By chance, she looked over to her right and noticed the freshly painted statue. As beautiful as the statue was, the most captivating thing about it was what sat upon its shoulder: a small, live bird (some type of sparrow) - the only living thing Jean came in contact with in this dream world now that Jack was gone. Whenever Jean looked over at the statue the bird would spread its wings and fly away. In that moment, everything would slow as the sound of the bird’s wings amplified and resounded, penetrating the building's stone foundation It was an act of release; one Jean came to relish, for it felt like such a blessed event, one that stood in stark contrast to the oppression which seemed to permeate the rest of her surroundings. Watching that bird take flight, she felt free, as if being set free.
If only she could do the same for the memory of Jack Arneson.
But how? And really, what good was any of it; all the nights spent digging around in that cold, dank place, if she didn’t share what she knew with someone close to the case? No. That would never happen. She didn’t want to become known as a crazy lady who dreams nonsense. And that is just how she would be viewed if she ever approached the police, Jack’s mother, or anyone else with the information she’d gathered. Just a big nuisance. Or worse. No. It was best that she kept these things to herself.
But it was all becoming too much. If only she could put it all someplace, someplace safe, and store it away.
Anyplace, but inside her head.
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2 comments:
Cool....
Love!
I can't wait to see what happens. Also Versace.
And isn't Emeli Sandé family?
XOXO
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