"Frosty the Golem"
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dochermes"Frosty the Golem"
(A Trom Girl Mystery)
2/22/2008
I.
Examining the murder scene, Megan Salenger prowled quickly around, squatting and leaning over but being careful not to come into physical contact with anything. She was a slim young woman with tousled black hair over an inquisitive face marked with huge dark eyes and a pointed nose. On this frigid late February night, she wore boots and jeans but only a snug waist-length jacket of some tough dark material. The KDF field suit jacket had been modified by her people the Trom and would keep her comfortable under more extreme conditions than a Westchester winter.
Staying back by the front door of the house were two men, Lt Montez of the NYPD and Archie McAllister, her longtime lover and partner. Archie decided to break the silence after it had gone on uncomfortably long. He was a big amiable bear of a man, always seeming to need a shave and some sleep. In contrast to Megan, he was sensibly bundled in a down-filled red parka, with a wool scarf and pull-down ski cap to keep warm. "You can see on the floor where the water was. Looks like there was quite a lot of it."
"Hmmm." The non-committal reply showed that she had not heard him. Archie smiled. She would always be the Trom Girl. A Human orphan raised by the cold analytical minds of that Race which was closest to Human, Megan had been raised to reach genius level in a dozen hard-science fields. But unexpectedly, she had retained full emotions as her passionate and devoted romance with him had proven. After a few years resolving crimes too bizarre and unfathomable for regular procedures, Megan had grudgingly come to be regarded as a valuable consultant by the police of the New York City area and increasingly in other states as well.
After another minute, she straightened, pulled her field jacket down where it had ridden up, and placed her hands on her hips. She turned her head toward the two men by the door. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that, dear?"
Archie said again that the marks left on the wood floor showed the extent of how much water had been spilled.
"This is true," Megan answered, still with a faraway tone. "I do not have a viable conjecture to explain the presence of the water. Yet, irrationally, I think that it is a major factor in the event. Call it a hunch. Herbert Abrams was killed by a single blow to the left side of his head. The blunt force trauma was severe enough to fracture his skull and cause instant death. No trace of any weapon had been found, Lieutenant?"
"Afraid not, Megan," said Montez. Not as tall as Archie but considerably heavier especially around the waist, Joseph Montez wore a long cloth coat over his business suit. "Forensics tried to reconstruct its shape but all they can manage is a sort of rounded ball the size of a man's fist. No traces of foreign material at the impact site."
"Interesting." The Trom Girl tapped her teeth with an index finger, a gesture she had unconsciously picked up from her teammate Unicorn. "Thank you for calling me in on this, Lieutenant. I predict this will indeed turn out to be a Midnight War incident."
Montez snorted. "I'm way outta my jurisdiction, honey. My territory strictly speaking should be lower Manhattan, at least in theory. But by now, I get reassigned for every crime within a hundred miles that seems weird enough. Like old Harold Klein before me. And it's because the brass right up to the Commissioner and the DA's office assumes that I'll bring you KDF guys in to clean everything up."
"Yes. It's unfortunate the rest of my team is not available at the moment." Megan started moving around the well-appointed room again. Handmade bookshelves held thick respectable books on history, theology and art. A large TV in one corner was kept in a cabinet with closed doors. Under a reading lamp, an overstuffed easy chair had a sidetable which held a bottle of Schnapps and a tumbler, although they had been knocked over during the brief struggle, if it could be called that.
"Abrams lived what you might call an ascetic life," Lt Montez observed. "Look at how neat this place is. No women that we know of, although at seventy that's probably easier to handle than for a young man. No signs of gambling, no cruises. Just reading and sipping his liquor, sometimes writing long letters to his pals back in Europe."
"Different strokes for different folks," Archie put in. "The front door wasn't tampered with, you said? And judging from where Abrams was lying, he had probably opened the door himself. Doesn't that imply he knew the killer?"
"Ehhhh," Montez responded. "It's an indicator but not that strong a one. This isn't Hell's Kitchen. This is a low-crime suburban neighborhood. When the buzzer sounds at six in the evening, I can see how someone like Abrams might simply open it without peering out suspiciously through the curtains. I wouldn't put too much weight on him being familiar with his assailant."
Megan held up a hand for silence, not always realizing how unpolished her manners still were. "Two details seem to conflict. Lieutenant, you said that the victim was not an observant Jew."
"Yeah, that's what I heard. When we asked his family and friends, they all said he had drifted away. Never went to Temple, didn't observe the High Holy Days. One guy said he wouldn't have been surprised to see Abrams eating bacon."
"So he was not overtly religious any more," she said. "Yet I recall the list of what he was wearing included a yamulke."
"That's right. It was crumpled up in his hand, you can see it in the CSI photos. He wasn't wearing it."
"That seems contradictory. One possibility is that he took it off his attacker. You have seen this headgear?"
"Sure. It's in an evidence bag," Montez replied thoughtfully. "Nice catch, Megan. It's ordinary enough, a black silk beanie like the Orthodox wear. Sewn on the inner brim were five letters in gold thread."
"Let me guess," the Trom Girl interrupted. "They spelled the word 'Emeth.'"
"That's right. How'd you know?"
Megan did not answer directly. "It's Hebrew for 'life.'"
II.
Walking back out to their cars, Archie said, "I know it's a murder scene and all that, but you have to admit this is a gorgeous sight." It was true. Under a clear sky brilliantly sprayed with stars like diamond dust, unbroken snow from a recent storm sat five inches thick on the lawns and yards. The wide path from Abram's house to the street had been shoveled before his death.
"Yeah. Even after all these years on the job, sometimes I squeeze in a minute for scenery," admitted Montez. He pointed a gloved finger at an area near the house where snow was missing from a circle six feet around. "That's something I've been wondering about. What's that all about?"
Megan Salenger glanced back but said nothing. When she neared her Jeep Cherokee, she slowed to a halt. "It has been more than forty-eight hours since the murder. You said Abrams' relatives were expected to begin clearing the house Monday."
"Yeah," Montez admitted. "He had two younger brothers. I guess they're gonna claim any sentimental items or maybe have an estate sale. Why do you ask, I wonder?"
"I am evaluating a few theories," she answered in the infuriating way she had of bypassing questions. "I believe your forensic team has documented anything of interest."
Going over to stand by his own slightly battered Nissan, Montez turned back to watch the Trom Girl. "I'm sure you're up to something devious and illegal, Miss Megan Anne Salenger! Policy requires that I advise you to watch your step in your investigation, since as a civilian consultant you have no more authority to commit misdemeanors than any other citizen. The Department welcomes your advice and expertise but you are not authorized to crash through picture windows or dig up graves. As has happened, if you remember. Glad we understand each other."
Making the same neutral "Hmmm," she had done earlier, Megan chirped open her Jeep and climbed in behind the wheel.
Montez sighed and clapped Archie on one shoulder before walking away. "I love the way she turns her hearing off when it's inconvenient. Wish I could do that. Well, good luck, you two. Keep me informed."
"Good night, Lieutenant." Archie got in the passenger seat and strapped himself, enjoying the warm dry air as the Jeep's interior heated up. Seeing Megan seated but making no move, he asked, "You want me to drive while your brain spins in circles, hon?"
"What? Oh. Thank you, Archie, but no. I feel competent to drive and think at the same time. What is your reaction to that mass of missing snow outside the house?"
Watching her ease out onto the deserted road, the big mechanic thought her question over for a second. He was tired of being always wrong with his suggestions. "Wellll... I'm no genius, but it seems to me the simplest explanation for two odd events is to connect them. I can't imagine why, but it looks as if someone brought a lot of snow into the house where it melted."
"Yes. I would add that the snow brought itself into the house, dear. It walked in."
To his credit, Archie did not guffaw or even allow amusement into his voice. He had witnessed so many impossible things since meeting Megan. "Uh-huh. I'm not sure I follow you, babe."
Slowing, the Trom Girl pulled over to the edge of a yard. "This is a custom enjoyed by children and many adults," she said. Standing near the corner were three round balls of hard-packed snow, each smaller than the one below it. The top globe sported a New York Mets baseball cap, a scarf and two round buttons for eyes. A carrot served as a nose. Broken tree limbs protruding from the sides of the middle globe represented arms.
"A snowman....?! Aw, Megan, you know I've gone a long with a lot of crazy stuff in this Midnight War, but this time I figure there has to be a different explanation," Archie protested.
"We shall see." She started driving south again, back to Manhattan.
III.
They left the Jeep at IMPERIAL GARAGE on 46th Street, then hiked quickly through the cold night to the KDF headquarters building on East 38th Street. The rest of the team was in the realm of Okali. Archie had been a guest here many times and the sophisticated Trom sensors in the foyer recognized him and gave admittance. Megan barely allowed him a second to hang up his parka on the coat rack before hurrying him into the walk-in closet and through its rear panel. Down steep concrete steps they descended, past the water heater and power generator to the long walkway. Here two massive iron doors faced each other across the walkway. To their left was the KDF's extensive and quite illegal arsenal. The door to the right was the Vault, with its protective Eldar talisman at the top and ensalir strips forming a cross spanning the door.
Behind a folding wooden panel on the wall was a keypad, and Megan quickly punched in a code, waited three seconds and added a second shorter sequence. Heavy bolts could be heard sliding aside within the door. "In theory, only Jeremy and Sable have admittance to our Vault," she told her partner. "But the code is so obvious I knew it at once."
"It helps being a genius."
"Yes," Megan said without a trace of irony. She grasped the horizontal bar and pulled the door outward with some effort. Inside, a single light flickered on in the ceiling. Archie stayed back in the open doorway, not caring to follow her in for some reason. He felt he had no business being in there.
The Vault was a single stone-walled cell with open wooden shelves along the walls and numerous items stacked up or leaning on each other. Three grimacing shrunken heads with long blonde hair. A row of wavy-bladed ceremonial knives, carved wooden masks with ferocious expressions, a cracked crystal ball. There were many items which had no obvious significance for Archie but which would have struck students of the Midnight War with uneasiness or outright fear. Shards of the cursed sword Hellspawn. The Brand of Submission, the Zhune artifacts of the lost science of that ancient land, the Ghoul-summoning pendant. The Jar of the Djinn. The Spiked Gauntlet. The voodoo Death Drum from Bane's first meeting with Samuel Watesa, the Silver Hammer of Malberon. Two Mummy cases nailed shut, jeweled chalices and plain clay goblets, a row of deformed human skulls behind glass casing, some crumbling sea trunks piled atop each other. Much more.
"Oh, I was afraid of this," came Megan's voice from the far corner. "Archie?"
Reluctantly, he stepped into the Vault and avoided touching any of the relics as if they had been glowing white-hot. He could feel the hairs on the back of his head standing up and his heart was pounding. In the corner, he found his Trom Girl crouching over a pile of fragments of what looked like rough grey stone. "What's that all about?"
"This is clay," she answered. "Here was where we stored the Golem that Eliphas Gold animated back in 1978. That was one of Jeremy's earliest cases, he wasn't even twenty-one at the time." Standing up, she tugged Archie behind her and moved hurriedly out of the Vault. As she pressed the thick iron door closed, they heard the bolts click back into place. She examined the keypad, saw the three blue and green lights were steady, then flipped the wooden panel closed over it.
Archie saw Megan lower her shoulders and exhale, and he realized what a strain she had been under during the past few minutes. "Come on, let's make some tea and sit for a minute. Being in there shook you up."
"Yes. You are right. I seem to be more aware of negative gralic force lately." They went back upstairs and into the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor. Here, the gleaming stainless steel of the sink and prep table went well with the reassuring dark wood table and chairs. Megan automatically brewed some Earl Grey for the two of them. She did not add any of the Tagra leaves because she felt drinking it in front of Archie rubbed it in that he was denied the enhanced healing only available to Tel Shai knights. Before she sat down, the Trom Girl also brought over a sleeve of Club whole wheat crackers for them to nibble on.
After a few sips and a couple crackers, Archie ventured, "I know what a Golem is, hon. Since I met you, I've done some reading about the occult and supernatural. It's a clay statue that a Rabbi can bring to life, sort of. Most of the time, Golems turn bad and have to be destroyed."
"You are basically correct." Megan got up and fetched a small glass jar of strawberry preserves that they began dipping the crackers into. "It's not an area I have studied in depth. We Tel Shai knights largely concern ourselves with gralic magick, the adjacent realms, the Seven Races. That is the Midnight War. But there are other areas of mysticism as well. Golems are related to Kabalism, which involves calling on demons and angels from Hebrew tradition." She finished her cup, set it down and sighed. "Perhaps I should spend more time researching these other branches of the unknown. I feel I have been slacking for personal amusement."
Now, Archie allowed a slight edge to his voice. "Honey. Listen. The time we spend at the beach or camping in the mountains, the old movies we watch, the music we sit and listen to... those are just as important as your work. You'd burn out if you didn't have a rounded life."
She smiled at him and reached over to take his broad hand in both of hers. "Oh, do not misunderstand. Time spent with you is time well spent! And I have come to enjoy jazz for its own sake. I often listen to it while working."
"Your Human side is as important as the Trom heritage, maybe more so," Archie agreed. "Anyway, you said that your captain captured a Golem back in 1978, was it?"
"Yes. Jeremy was in his first year of working for Kenneth Dred, when he was teamed up with a telepath named Katherine Wheatley. They faced a Golem animated by Eliphas Gold, an occult expert who had a grudge against his ex-wife. Not really knowing much about the supernatural, Jeremy still managed to trap Gold's spirit inside the Golem, leaving it inert. For the past thirty years, it has been stored in the Vault where, as we just saw, it has fallen apart."
"Huh. So... what exactly does that mean?" Archie asked, scratching his head metaphorically.
Megan picked up their tea cups and saucers, moving over to the sink to rinse them out. "I honestly am not sure. I have difficulty even formulating a conjecture to explain this outre Golem phenomenon. The most likely hypothesis is that somehow the sorcerer extends his consciousness into the clay statue using a gralic bridge. His Human body remains alive in a weakened state, but if the Golem is destroyed or made inert, the sorcerer's body dies shortly afterwards. This seems to fit the events we have seen documented."
"Okay. I guess. But the Golem is all broken up. What about Gold?"
Returning to sit next to him, the Trom Girl folded her hands on the round table and thought for a second. "My tentative theory is that Gold's spirit managed to escape the Golem and free itself, shattering the clay figure in the process. I have no way to test this. It is annoying. How can I set up an experiment to replicate such conditions? What is there to measure or quantify?" Her voice rose in frustration for the first time since Archie had known her.
"Maybe if you contact your Trom Council and get their opinion...?" he ventured.
"No! I will not run to them whenever I encounter a problem that cannot be easily solved! Wait. Archie, why am I reacting so strongly? I should be analytical, not emotional. Problems are solved through logic guided by experience."
Standing up, Archie took her by an arm. "Nothing wrong with being Human, honey. Here. Give me a second." He took out his cell phone, got the WiFi available in the headquarters building and found YouTube. Handing her the phone, he said, "Listen to the words."
From the small speaker came a jaunty song, "Frosty the Snowman" by Burl Ives. Megan listened with obvious impatience which quickly turned to astonishment. The change of expression on her face was comical. "Of course," she breathed. "We are dealing with a Golem made of snow. Eliphas Gold animated a large mass of snow which reshaped and hardened into a humanoid form. The yamulke is the key."
"It seemed kind of whacky to me," Archie said, "But then, considering the craziness I've seen since meeting you..."
Megan handed him back his phone. "As a child, I was not exposed to much so-called Pop culture. Is this song based on folklore? Were there any reported instances of animated snowmen?"
"Not that I ever heard of," replied Archie. "Just a silly kids' song, far as I know. I kinda hate it to be honest, I've heard it so much every Christmas."
"Even if there are no legends of such beings, there is a theory worth pursuing." The Trom Girl hopped up and started for the door to the hallway. "Come with me. I must prepare before the next incident."
Trying to keep up as she trotted down the front hall and up the wide staircase to the second floor, he asked, "The next incident? So this killer snowman attack wasn't a one-time thing?"
Over one shoulder, Megan responded, "It may be only the beginning."
Much of the conference room on the second floor was taken up by a long oak table with five chairs to each side and a chair at each end for a total of twelve. Generations of heroes had assembled here since the 1930s under Dr Vitarius and the latest team of Tel Shai knights meeting continued the tradition. There was a narrow bench along one wall where members tossed various belongs as they rushed to take their seats. Archie lowered himself onto this bench and watched his lover drop down casually into the 'captain's chair' at the head. She unlocked a drawer in the table and drew out a massive hardbound book constructed so new pages could be added or existing ones rearranged. Written in white ink on the black cover were the words 'FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE' and a neat signature, 'Kenneth Dred.'
"All of these pages were scanned in our records years ago," Megan said as she began respectfully thumbing through the volume. "But both Jeremy and Sable have a habit of adding short notes on separate pieces of paper. They don't think it would be proper to write on the pages themselves."
"And that books's all the Midnight War information that Kenneth Dred accumulated, right? It's all stuff he verified himself?"
"Yes. Mr Dred was a scholar and adventurer in the occult for sixty years. I never met him myself, of course, since he died shortly before I was born. It was his wealth, his reputation and his knowledge that enabled Jeremy to establish the Kenneth Dred Foundation as a force to protect innocents from the creatures of the night." She paused to glance up at Archie. "I don't believe you have ever been told much of the previous KDF team, have you? They were amazing people, from what I have heard."
"No, all I've heard about them is bits and pieces," he replied. "But there'll time for that later. We seem to be busy enough with the present."
"You have a point." She slowly closed the thick book and returned it to the drawer, which locked with an audible click. "Unfortunately, there were no new notes about Eliphas Gold or about Golems in general. Let me check with our best source." Unclipping her Link, she patched into the regular phone system and called a number.
"Hello? Hi, Bleak. This is Megan Salenger. Yes. I am well, how are you? Oh? I am sorry to hear that arthritis is making your life miserable. Perhaps you can help me with an investigation. Do you remember a man named Eliphas Gold? Yes, the disgraced ex-Rabbi who got into Black Magick is an accurate description. I know he was killed thirty years ago, but there are some details I wish to clear up. Does he have any relatives I could speak to? His family is all gone now? I see. Did he have any close colleagues in his Kabbalistic activity? Do you have the address? Oh, thank you." She gave an unexpected throaty chuckle. "Well, thank you again. Take care."
Breaking the connection, Megan flashed a grin at Archie. "Bleak says that he normally charges a fee when Jeremy questions him but he will waive it this time because I am so cute."
"You ARE cute, hon, but don't count on it getting you from more free information from an old sourpuss like Bleak. What did he say?"
"From what he remembers, Gold had three serious rivals in the search of Kabbalistic magick. One died of natural causes years ago. Another is in his late sixties but still publishing articles in academic journals about obscure Talmudic lore. That would be David M Edelmann. He lives over in Somerset, New Jersey. I have his street address."
Archie stood up and stretched. "Hey, what happened to Gold's third rival?"
"He was the man whose body we saw today," Megan told him soberly. "Herbert Abrams."
IV.
Megan went to her room on the third floor to fetch a few items. The room was so clean and Spartan it seemed to have been prepared for someone who had not moved in yet. She had not put up any framed photos, hanging plants, knick-knacks of any sort during all the years she had lived here. Everything was dust-free and in its proper place. The bed was made so tightly a quarter would bounce if dropped on it. Archie watched her from the doorway, thoughtful at seeing her intensity. When they had first started dating, they had made love here a few times but he had never spent the night. There was an unspoken agreement between them that KDF headquarters was somehow inappropriate for displays of their relationship. Too many sudden Red Alerts at three in the morning made his presence awkward.
From an antique footlocker at the base of her bed, the Trom Girl drew out a rounded disc of burnished metal the size of a dinner plate. She strapped this across her shoulder blades over her field suit jacket, then thumbed a control button on one of her cuffs. Instantly, she rose up six inches off the rug and hovered there steady as if standing on an invisible boulder. "Gravity shield functions test as nominal," she announced before dropping down again.
"You know, this Golem case is not really your area of expertise," Archie offered hesitantly. "Your specialty is more Mad Scientists, death rays, brains in fish tanks, that sort of thing."
"It is KDF policy that any member should be able to tackle any assignment that another member could," she replied briskly. Megan looked over at him and her expression softened as she tried to remember her manners. "Of course, we have our individual fortes. Sheng is better suited to physical combat than I am, just as Sable's abilities are best used for observation. But we are in theory all equal in capability."
"You've done all right against everything supernatural from vampires to Skinwalkers, I have to admit. It was only a thought."
Oddly, Megan took the plastic liner from her waste paper basket and rummaged around in the closet before emerging with something small wrapped in it. "Please excuse me for not revealing this item, Archie. I would feel foolish somehow and maybe it will not be needed."
That made him laugh out loud. "If I've learned anything from going on these cases with you, honey, it's that you always have Plan A and Plan B worked out with a few contingency ideas. Sure, feel free to surprise me when everything seems hopeless."
Leaving the building after locking up and heading back to the IMPERIAL GARAGE, Megan stopped to receive a phone call. "That was Lt Montez," she said, "He wanted to know if I had 'tied everything up' yet? Archie, that man has unreasonable expectations from me."
The big mechanic put an arm across her shoulders and gave her a sideways squeeze as they started walking again. "Aw, that's the problem with pulling off so many miracles the way you do. People get so they expect it all the time."
They hopped into Megan's beloved red Jeep Cherokee and headed across town for the Lincoln Tunnel. Archie had offered to drive and the Trom Girl agreed, since she enjoyed observing people on the streets they passed. During the long drive, the two of them did not discuss the case underway but chatted about everything from Archie's family with the new nephews to Italian recipes that hadn't worked to where they might buy a house. When the traffic got distractingly hectic and Archie needed to concentrate, they were comfortable being silent. More than an hour later, nearing the southern end of New Jersey, they found the drowsy town of Somerset and Megan directed Archie to a residential neighborhood of impressive old houses set in sizable yards.
Standing by a pine tree at the edge of his property, David Edelmann leaned on a wide-bladed snow shovel and watched the approach of the couple with an expression sour as spoiled milk. For a man nearing seventy, he seemed surprisingly youthful. The black hair had receded up his forehead but it showed only scattered grey strands, and his round face was not particularly lined. The front of his neck gave his age away, hanging in the beginning of a dewlap. He wore a long heavy coat that reached almost to his ankles over a suit and tie.
Next to him was a classic snowman with the three-part globular body and cylindrical arms down by its sides. Its facial features were only two deep holes sunk into the head to serve as eyes. Edelmann had not added a whimsical scarf or corncob pipe, his snowman was plain and stark. As he saw the Jeep come to a halt by his yard, he yelled, "I don't know you! Don't you dare trespass on my property, I will have the law on you."
"I do not think so," the Trom Girl answered with her usual confidence. Still tucked under one arm was the plastic bag. "You are playing with powerful and dangerous phenomena, Mr Edelmann."
"More than you realize, little girl. I've been in contact with the spirit of Eliphas Gold. We have come to terms. There is much he and I can accomplish together." With the last word, he hastily tugged a black skullcap down on the snowman's round head and stepped away. The effect was instantaneous. A lurid red glint shone from the empty eye sockets and the thick arms stirred and moved about as the construct got its bearings. A second later, the Golem began to slide toward the two intruders across the surface of the snow which covered the yard. Its outer surface crackled as the snow hardened to a rocklike density.
"Gimme that shovel," Archie yelled at Edelmann. "I'll knock that goofy thing's head off like a soccer ball."
Lifting off the ground, Megan rose twenty feet straight up, arched her back and dove down to snatch the yamulke off the monster's head before it could react. The Golem stopped dead, one arm still raised, no more than a mundane snowman again. Behind it, touching down lightly, the Trom Girl was evidently struggling with something small and furry trying to escape her grasp.
Ten seconds passed before Edelmann realized what had happened. "You.. you're a Trom?! Of course. I saw the one called Slade fly like that once. Put that sigil back this instant." He hefted the snow shovel like a bludgeon and took one menacing step toward Megan. Then Archie interposed himself in the way. Four inches over six feet tall, two hundred and fifty pounds, he looked even larger in his puffy down-filled parka. In a quiet tone, he said, "You don't want to try that."
Edelmann backed down. He dropped the snow shovel by his feet and cringed away from the imposing bulk in his path. "But Eliphas... what have you done to him?"
"His spirit still exists," Megan answered. "It is merely housed in a different object now. Archie, Unicorn talked me into purchasing this item at a street fair. She said I needed to do something silly and pointless once in a while. I went along with her but I don't think she could have realized how useful this toy would be." Wriggling furiously in her grip, unable to do any harm since it had no mouth and no claws on its blunt limbs, was a beige-colored teddy bear with a red heart across its chest that read 'I Wuv You.' Firmly placed on its head and covering the rounded ears was the black silk yamulke with the dread word of power 'Emeth' in gold script.
8/13/2019
(A Trom Girl Mystery)
2/22/2008
I.
Examining the murder scene, Megan Salenger prowled quickly around, squatting and leaning over but being careful not to come into physical contact with anything. She was a slim young woman with tousled black hair over an inquisitive face marked with huge dark eyes and a pointed nose. On this frigid late February night, she wore boots and jeans but only a snug waist-length jacket of some tough dark material. The KDF field suit jacket had been modified by her people the Trom and would keep her comfortable under more extreme conditions than a Westchester winter.
Staying back by the front door of the house were two men, Lt Montez of the NYPD and Archie McAllister, her longtime lover and partner. Archie decided to break the silence after it had gone on uncomfortably long. He was a big amiable bear of a man, always seeming to need a shave and some sleep. In contrast to Megan, he was sensibly bundled in a down-filled red parka, with a wool scarf and pull-down ski cap to keep warm. "You can see on the floor where the water was. Looks like there was quite a lot of it."
"Hmmm." The non-committal reply showed that she had not heard him. Archie smiled. She would always be the Trom Girl. A Human orphan raised by the cold analytical minds of that Race which was closest to Human, Megan had been raised to reach genius level in a dozen hard-science fields. But unexpectedly, she had retained full emotions as her passionate and devoted romance with him had proven. After a few years resolving crimes too bizarre and unfathomable for regular procedures, Megan had grudgingly come to be regarded as a valuable consultant by the police of the New York City area and increasingly in other states as well.
After another minute, she straightened, pulled her field jacket down where it had ridden up, and placed her hands on her hips. She turned her head toward the two men by the door. "I'm sorry, could you repeat that, dear?"
Archie said again that the marks left on the wood floor showed the extent of how much water had been spilled.
"This is true," Megan answered, still with a faraway tone. "I do not have a viable conjecture to explain the presence of the water. Yet, irrationally, I think that it is a major factor in the event. Call it a hunch. Herbert Abrams was killed by a single blow to the left side of his head. The blunt force trauma was severe enough to fracture his skull and cause instant death. No trace of any weapon had been found, Lieutenant?"
"Afraid not, Megan," said Montez. Not as tall as Archie but considerably heavier especially around the waist, Joseph Montez wore a long cloth coat over his business suit. "Forensics tried to reconstruct its shape but all they can manage is a sort of rounded ball the size of a man's fist. No traces of foreign material at the impact site."
"Interesting." The Trom Girl tapped her teeth with an index finger, a gesture she had unconsciously picked up from her teammate Unicorn. "Thank you for calling me in on this, Lieutenant. I predict this will indeed turn out to be a Midnight War incident."
Montez snorted. "I'm way outta my jurisdiction, honey. My territory strictly speaking should be lower Manhattan, at least in theory. But by now, I get reassigned for every crime within a hundred miles that seems weird enough. Like old Harold Klein before me. And it's because the brass right up to the Commissioner and the DA's office assumes that I'll bring you KDF guys in to clean everything up."
"Yes. It's unfortunate the rest of my team is not available at the moment." Megan started moving around the well-appointed room again. Handmade bookshelves held thick respectable books on history, theology and art. A large TV in one corner was kept in a cabinet with closed doors. Under a reading lamp, an overstuffed easy chair had a sidetable which held a bottle of Schnapps and a tumbler, although they had been knocked over during the brief struggle, if it could be called that.
"Abrams lived what you might call an ascetic life," Lt Montez observed. "Look at how neat this place is. No women that we know of, although at seventy that's probably easier to handle than for a young man. No signs of gambling, no cruises. Just reading and sipping his liquor, sometimes writing long letters to his pals back in Europe."
"Different strokes for different folks," Archie put in. "The front door wasn't tampered with, you said? And judging from where Abrams was lying, he had probably opened the door himself. Doesn't that imply he knew the killer?"
"Ehhhh," Montez responded. "It's an indicator but not that strong a one. This isn't Hell's Kitchen. This is a low-crime suburban neighborhood. When the buzzer sounds at six in the evening, I can see how someone like Abrams might simply open it without peering out suspiciously through the curtains. I wouldn't put too much weight on him being familiar with his assailant."
Megan held up a hand for silence, not always realizing how unpolished her manners still were. "Two details seem to conflict. Lieutenant, you said that the victim was not an observant Jew."
"Yeah, that's what I heard. When we asked his family and friends, they all said he had drifted away. Never went to Temple, didn't observe the High Holy Days. One guy said he wouldn't have been surprised to see Abrams eating bacon."
"So he was not overtly religious any more," she said. "Yet I recall the list of what he was wearing included a yamulke."
"That's right. It was crumpled up in his hand, you can see it in the CSI photos. He wasn't wearing it."
"That seems contradictory. One possibility is that he took it off his attacker. You have seen this headgear?"
"Sure. It's in an evidence bag," Montez replied thoughtfully. "Nice catch, Megan. It's ordinary enough, a black silk beanie like the Orthodox wear. Sewn on the inner brim were five letters in gold thread."
"Let me guess," the Trom Girl interrupted. "They spelled the word 'Emeth.'"
"That's right. How'd you know?"
Megan did not answer directly. "It's Hebrew for 'life.'"
II.
Walking back out to their cars, Archie said, "I know it's a murder scene and all that, but you have to admit this is a gorgeous sight." It was true. Under a clear sky brilliantly sprayed with stars like diamond dust, unbroken snow from a recent storm sat five inches thick on the lawns and yards. The wide path from Abram's house to the street had been shoveled before his death.
"Yeah. Even after all these years on the job, sometimes I squeeze in a minute for scenery," admitted Montez. He pointed a gloved finger at an area near the house where snow was missing from a circle six feet around. "That's something I've been wondering about. What's that all about?"
Megan Salenger glanced back but said nothing. When she neared her Jeep Cherokee, she slowed to a halt. "It has been more than forty-eight hours since the murder. You said Abrams' relatives were expected to begin clearing the house Monday."
"Yeah," Montez admitted. "He had two younger brothers. I guess they're gonna claim any sentimental items or maybe have an estate sale. Why do you ask, I wonder?"
"I am evaluating a few theories," she answered in the infuriating way she had of bypassing questions. "I believe your forensic team has documented anything of interest."
Going over to stand by his own slightly battered Nissan, Montez turned back to watch the Trom Girl. "I'm sure you're up to something devious and illegal, Miss Megan Anne Salenger! Policy requires that I advise you to watch your step in your investigation, since as a civilian consultant you have no more authority to commit misdemeanors than any other citizen. The Department welcomes your advice and expertise but you are not authorized to crash through picture windows or dig up graves. As has happened, if you remember. Glad we understand each other."
Making the same neutral "Hmmm," she had done earlier, Megan chirped open her Jeep and climbed in behind the wheel.
Montez sighed and clapped Archie on one shoulder before walking away. "I love the way she turns her hearing off when it's inconvenient. Wish I could do that. Well, good luck, you two. Keep me informed."
"Good night, Lieutenant." Archie got in the passenger seat and strapped himself, enjoying the warm dry air as the Jeep's interior heated up. Seeing Megan seated but making no move, he asked, "You want me to drive while your brain spins in circles, hon?"
"What? Oh. Thank you, Archie, but no. I feel competent to drive and think at the same time. What is your reaction to that mass of missing snow outside the house?"
Watching her ease out onto the deserted road, the big mechanic thought her question over for a second. He was tired of being always wrong with his suggestions. "Wellll... I'm no genius, but it seems to me the simplest explanation for two odd events is to connect them. I can't imagine why, but it looks as if someone brought a lot of snow into the house where it melted."
"Yes. I would add that the snow brought itself into the house, dear. It walked in."
To his credit, Archie did not guffaw or even allow amusement into his voice. He had witnessed so many impossible things since meeting Megan. "Uh-huh. I'm not sure I follow you, babe."
Slowing, the Trom Girl pulled over to the edge of a yard. "This is a custom enjoyed by children and many adults," she said. Standing near the corner were three round balls of hard-packed snow, each smaller than the one below it. The top globe sported a New York Mets baseball cap, a scarf and two round buttons for eyes. A carrot served as a nose. Broken tree limbs protruding from the sides of the middle globe represented arms.
"A snowman....?! Aw, Megan, you know I've gone a long with a lot of crazy stuff in this Midnight War, but this time I figure there has to be a different explanation," Archie protested.
"We shall see." She started driving south again, back to Manhattan.
III.
They left the Jeep at IMPERIAL GARAGE on 46th Street, then hiked quickly through the cold night to the KDF headquarters building on East 38th Street. The rest of the team was in the realm of Okali. Archie had been a guest here many times and the sophisticated Trom sensors in the foyer recognized him and gave admittance. Megan barely allowed him a second to hang up his parka on the coat rack before hurrying him into the walk-in closet and through its rear panel. Down steep concrete steps they descended, past the water heater and power generator to the long walkway. Here two massive iron doors faced each other across the walkway. To their left was the KDF's extensive and quite illegal arsenal. The door to the right was the Vault, with its protective Eldar talisman at the top and ensalir strips forming a cross spanning the door.
Behind a folding wooden panel on the wall was a keypad, and Megan quickly punched in a code, waited three seconds and added a second shorter sequence. Heavy bolts could be heard sliding aside within the door. "In theory, only Jeremy and Sable have admittance to our Vault," she told her partner. "But the code is so obvious I knew it at once."
"It helps being a genius."
"Yes," Megan said without a trace of irony. She grasped the horizontal bar and pulled the door outward with some effort. Inside, a single light flickered on in the ceiling. Archie stayed back in the open doorway, not caring to follow her in for some reason. He felt he had no business being in there.
The Vault was a single stone-walled cell with open wooden shelves along the walls and numerous items stacked up or leaning on each other. Three grimacing shrunken heads with long blonde hair. A row of wavy-bladed ceremonial knives, carved wooden masks with ferocious expressions, a cracked crystal ball. There were many items which had no obvious significance for Archie but which would have struck students of the Midnight War with uneasiness or outright fear. Shards of the cursed sword Hellspawn. The Brand of Submission, the Zhune artifacts of the lost science of that ancient land, the Ghoul-summoning pendant. The Jar of the Djinn. The Spiked Gauntlet. The voodoo Death Drum from Bane's first meeting with Samuel Watesa, the Silver Hammer of Malberon. Two Mummy cases nailed shut, jeweled chalices and plain clay goblets, a row of deformed human skulls behind glass casing, some crumbling sea trunks piled atop each other. Much more.
"Oh, I was afraid of this," came Megan's voice from the far corner. "Archie?"
Reluctantly, he stepped into the Vault and avoided touching any of the relics as if they had been glowing white-hot. He could feel the hairs on the back of his head standing up and his heart was pounding. In the corner, he found his Trom Girl crouching over a pile of fragments of what looked like rough grey stone. "What's that all about?"
"This is clay," she answered. "Here was where we stored the Golem that Eliphas Gold animated back in 1978. That was one of Jeremy's earliest cases, he wasn't even twenty-one at the time." Standing up, she tugged Archie behind her and moved hurriedly out of the Vault. As she pressed the thick iron door closed, they heard the bolts click back into place. She examined the keypad, saw the three blue and green lights were steady, then flipped the wooden panel closed over it.
Archie saw Megan lower her shoulders and exhale, and he realized what a strain she had been under during the past few minutes. "Come on, let's make some tea and sit for a minute. Being in there shook you up."
"Yes. You are right. I seem to be more aware of negative gralic force lately." They went back upstairs and into the kitchen at the rear of the ground floor. Here, the gleaming stainless steel of the sink and prep table went well with the reassuring dark wood table and chairs. Megan automatically brewed some Earl Grey for the two of them. She did not add any of the Tagra leaves because she felt drinking it in front of Archie rubbed it in that he was denied the enhanced healing only available to Tel Shai knights. Before she sat down, the Trom Girl also brought over a sleeve of Club whole wheat crackers for them to nibble on.
After a few sips and a couple crackers, Archie ventured, "I know what a Golem is, hon. Since I met you, I've done some reading about the occult and supernatural. It's a clay statue that a Rabbi can bring to life, sort of. Most of the time, Golems turn bad and have to be destroyed."
"You are basically correct." Megan got up and fetched a small glass jar of strawberry preserves that they began dipping the crackers into. "It's not an area I have studied in depth. We Tel Shai knights largely concern ourselves with gralic magick, the adjacent realms, the Seven Races. That is the Midnight War. But there are other areas of mysticism as well. Golems are related to Kabalism, which involves calling on demons and angels from Hebrew tradition." She finished her cup, set it down and sighed. "Perhaps I should spend more time researching these other branches of the unknown. I feel I have been slacking for personal amusement."
Now, Archie allowed a slight edge to his voice. "Honey. Listen. The time we spend at the beach or camping in the mountains, the old movies we watch, the music we sit and listen to... those are just as important as your work. You'd burn out if you didn't have a rounded life."
She smiled at him and reached over to take his broad hand in both of hers. "Oh, do not misunderstand. Time spent with you is time well spent! And I have come to enjoy jazz for its own sake. I often listen to it while working."
"Your Human side is as important as the Trom heritage, maybe more so," Archie agreed. "Anyway, you said that your captain captured a Golem back in 1978, was it?"
"Yes. Jeremy was in his first year of working for Kenneth Dred, when he was teamed up with a telepath named Katherine Wheatley. They faced a Golem animated by Eliphas Gold, an occult expert who had a grudge against his ex-wife. Not really knowing much about the supernatural, Jeremy still managed to trap Gold's spirit inside the Golem, leaving it inert. For the past thirty years, it has been stored in the Vault where, as we just saw, it has fallen apart."
"Huh. So... what exactly does that mean?" Archie asked, scratching his head metaphorically.
Megan picked up their tea cups and saucers, moving over to the sink to rinse them out. "I honestly am not sure. I have difficulty even formulating a conjecture to explain this outre Golem phenomenon. The most likely hypothesis is that somehow the sorcerer extends his consciousness into the clay statue using a gralic bridge. His Human body remains alive in a weakened state, but if the Golem is destroyed or made inert, the sorcerer's body dies shortly afterwards. This seems to fit the events we have seen documented."
"Okay. I guess. But the Golem is all broken up. What about Gold?"
Returning to sit next to him, the Trom Girl folded her hands on the round table and thought for a second. "My tentative theory is that Gold's spirit managed to escape the Golem and free itself, shattering the clay figure in the process. I have no way to test this. It is annoying. How can I set up an experiment to replicate such conditions? What is there to measure or quantify?" Her voice rose in frustration for the first time since Archie had known her.
"Maybe if you contact your Trom Council and get their opinion...?" he ventured.
"No! I will not run to them whenever I encounter a problem that cannot be easily solved! Wait. Archie, why am I reacting so strongly? I should be analytical, not emotional. Problems are solved through logic guided by experience."
Standing up, Archie took her by an arm. "Nothing wrong with being Human, honey. Here. Give me a second." He took out his cell phone, got the WiFi available in the headquarters building and found YouTube. Handing her the phone, he said, "Listen to the words."
From the small speaker came a jaunty song, "Frosty the Snowman" by Burl Ives. Megan listened with obvious impatience which quickly turned to astonishment. The change of expression on her face was comical. "Of course," she breathed. "We are dealing with a Golem made of snow. Eliphas Gold animated a large mass of snow which reshaped and hardened into a humanoid form. The yamulke is the key."
"It seemed kind of whacky to me," Archie said, "But then, considering the craziness I've seen since meeting you..."
Megan handed him back his phone. "As a child, I was not exposed to much so-called Pop culture. Is this song based on folklore? Were there any reported instances of animated snowmen?"
"Not that I ever heard of," replied Archie. "Just a silly kids' song, far as I know. I kinda hate it to be honest, I've heard it so much every Christmas."
"Even if there are no legends of such beings, there is a theory worth pursuing." The Trom Girl hopped up and started for the door to the hallway. "Come with me. I must prepare before the next incident."
Trying to keep up as she trotted down the front hall and up the wide staircase to the second floor, he asked, "The next incident? So this killer snowman attack wasn't a one-time thing?"
Over one shoulder, Megan responded, "It may be only the beginning."
Much of the conference room on the second floor was taken up by a long oak table with five chairs to each side and a chair at each end for a total of twelve. Generations of heroes had assembled here since the 1930s under Dr Vitarius and the latest team of Tel Shai knights meeting continued the tradition. There was a narrow bench along one wall where members tossed various belongs as they rushed to take their seats. Archie lowered himself onto this bench and watched his lover drop down casually into the 'captain's chair' at the head. She unlocked a drawer in the table and drew out a massive hardbound book constructed so new pages could be added or existing ones rearranged. Written in white ink on the black cover were the words 'FORBIDDEN KNOWLEDGE' and a neat signature, 'Kenneth Dred.'
"All of these pages were scanned in our records years ago," Megan said as she began respectfully thumbing through the volume. "But both Jeremy and Sable have a habit of adding short notes on separate pieces of paper. They don't think it would be proper to write on the pages themselves."
"And that books's all the Midnight War information that Kenneth Dred accumulated, right? It's all stuff he verified himself?"
"Yes. Mr Dred was a scholar and adventurer in the occult for sixty years. I never met him myself, of course, since he died shortly before I was born. It was his wealth, his reputation and his knowledge that enabled Jeremy to establish the Kenneth Dred Foundation as a force to protect innocents from the creatures of the night." She paused to glance up at Archie. "I don't believe you have ever been told much of the previous KDF team, have you? They were amazing people, from what I have heard."
"No, all I've heard about them is bits and pieces," he replied. "But there'll time for that later. We seem to be busy enough with the present."
"You have a point." She slowly closed the thick book and returned it to the drawer, which locked with an audible click. "Unfortunately, there were no new notes about Eliphas Gold or about Golems in general. Let me check with our best source." Unclipping her Link, she patched into the regular phone system and called a number.
"Hello? Hi, Bleak. This is Megan Salenger. Yes. I am well, how are you? Oh? I am sorry to hear that arthritis is making your life miserable. Perhaps you can help me with an investigation. Do you remember a man named Eliphas Gold? Yes, the disgraced ex-Rabbi who got into Black Magick is an accurate description. I know he was killed thirty years ago, but there are some details I wish to clear up. Does he have any relatives I could speak to? His family is all gone now? I see. Did he have any close colleagues in his Kabbalistic activity? Do you have the address? Oh, thank you." She gave an unexpected throaty chuckle. "Well, thank you again. Take care."
Breaking the connection, Megan flashed a grin at Archie. "Bleak says that he normally charges a fee when Jeremy questions him but he will waive it this time because I am so cute."
"You ARE cute, hon, but don't count on it getting you from more free information from an old sourpuss like Bleak. What did he say?"
"From what he remembers, Gold had three serious rivals in the search of Kabbalistic magick. One died of natural causes years ago. Another is in his late sixties but still publishing articles in academic journals about obscure Talmudic lore. That would be David M Edelmann. He lives over in Somerset, New Jersey. I have his street address."
Archie stood up and stretched. "Hey, what happened to Gold's third rival?"
"He was the man whose body we saw today," Megan told him soberly. "Herbert Abrams."
IV.
Megan went to her room on the third floor to fetch a few items. The room was so clean and Spartan it seemed to have been prepared for someone who had not moved in yet. She had not put up any framed photos, hanging plants, knick-knacks of any sort during all the years she had lived here. Everything was dust-free and in its proper place. The bed was made so tightly a quarter would bounce if dropped on it. Archie watched her from the doorway, thoughtful at seeing her intensity. When they had first started dating, they had made love here a few times but he had never spent the night. There was an unspoken agreement between them that KDF headquarters was somehow inappropriate for displays of their relationship. Too many sudden Red Alerts at three in the morning made his presence awkward.
From an antique footlocker at the base of her bed, the Trom Girl drew out a rounded disc of burnished metal the size of a dinner plate. She strapped this across her shoulder blades over her field suit jacket, then thumbed a control button on one of her cuffs. Instantly, she rose up six inches off the rug and hovered there steady as if standing on an invisible boulder. "Gravity shield functions test as nominal," she announced before dropping down again.
"You know, this Golem case is not really your area of expertise," Archie offered hesitantly. "Your specialty is more Mad Scientists, death rays, brains in fish tanks, that sort of thing."
"It is KDF policy that any member should be able to tackle any assignment that another member could," she replied briskly. Megan looked over at him and her expression softened as she tried to remember her manners. "Of course, we have our individual fortes. Sheng is better suited to physical combat than I am, just as Sable's abilities are best used for observation. But we are in theory all equal in capability."
"You've done all right against everything supernatural from vampires to Skinwalkers, I have to admit. It was only a thought."
Oddly, Megan took the plastic liner from her waste paper basket and rummaged around in the closet before emerging with something small wrapped in it. "Please excuse me for not revealing this item, Archie. I would feel foolish somehow and maybe it will not be needed."
That made him laugh out loud. "If I've learned anything from going on these cases with you, honey, it's that you always have Plan A and Plan B worked out with a few contingency ideas. Sure, feel free to surprise me when everything seems hopeless."
Leaving the building after locking up and heading back to the IMPERIAL GARAGE, Megan stopped to receive a phone call. "That was Lt Montez," she said, "He wanted to know if I had 'tied everything up' yet? Archie, that man has unreasonable expectations from me."
The big mechanic put an arm across her shoulders and gave her a sideways squeeze as they started walking again. "Aw, that's the problem with pulling off so many miracles the way you do. People get so they expect it all the time."
They hopped into Megan's beloved red Jeep Cherokee and headed across town for the Lincoln Tunnel. Archie had offered to drive and the Trom Girl agreed, since she enjoyed observing people on the streets they passed. During the long drive, the two of them did not discuss the case underway but chatted about everything from Archie's family with the new nephews to Italian recipes that hadn't worked to where they might buy a house. When the traffic got distractingly hectic and Archie needed to concentrate, they were comfortable being silent. More than an hour later, nearing the southern end of New Jersey, they found the drowsy town of Somerset and Megan directed Archie to a residential neighborhood of impressive old houses set in sizable yards.
Standing by a pine tree at the edge of his property, David Edelmann leaned on a wide-bladed snow shovel and watched the approach of the couple with an expression sour as spoiled milk. For a man nearing seventy, he seemed surprisingly youthful. The black hair had receded up his forehead but it showed only scattered grey strands, and his round face was not particularly lined. The front of his neck gave his age away, hanging in the beginning of a dewlap. He wore a long heavy coat that reached almost to his ankles over a suit and tie.
Next to him was a classic snowman with the three-part globular body and cylindrical arms down by its sides. Its facial features were only two deep holes sunk into the head to serve as eyes. Edelmann had not added a whimsical scarf or corncob pipe, his snowman was plain and stark. As he saw the Jeep come to a halt by his yard, he yelled, "I don't know you! Don't you dare trespass on my property, I will have the law on you."
"I do not think so," the Trom Girl answered with her usual confidence. Still tucked under one arm was the plastic bag. "You are playing with powerful and dangerous phenomena, Mr Edelmann."
"More than you realize, little girl. I've been in contact with the spirit of Eliphas Gold. We have come to terms. There is much he and I can accomplish together." With the last word, he hastily tugged a black skullcap down on the snowman's round head and stepped away. The effect was instantaneous. A lurid red glint shone from the empty eye sockets and the thick arms stirred and moved about as the construct got its bearings. A second later, the Golem began to slide toward the two intruders across the surface of the snow which covered the yard. Its outer surface crackled as the snow hardened to a rocklike density.
"Gimme that shovel," Archie yelled at Edelmann. "I'll knock that goofy thing's head off like a soccer ball."
Lifting off the ground, Megan rose twenty feet straight up, arched her back and dove down to snatch the yamulke off the monster's head before it could react. The Golem stopped dead, one arm still raised, no more than a mundane snowman again. Behind it, touching down lightly, the Trom Girl was evidently struggling with something small and furry trying to escape her grasp.
Ten seconds passed before Edelmann realized what had happened. "You.. you're a Trom?! Of course. I saw the one called Slade fly like that once. Put that sigil back this instant." He hefted the snow shovel like a bludgeon and took one menacing step toward Megan. Then Archie interposed himself in the way. Four inches over six feet tall, two hundred and fifty pounds, he looked even larger in his puffy down-filled parka. In a quiet tone, he said, "You don't want to try that."
Edelmann backed down. He dropped the snow shovel by his feet and cringed away from the imposing bulk in his path. "But Eliphas... what have you done to him?"
"His spirit still exists," Megan answered. "It is merely housed in a different object now. Archie, Unicorn talked me into purchasing this item at a street fair. She said I needed to do something silly and pointless once in a while. I went along with her but I don't think she could have realized how useful this toy would be." Wriggling furiously in her grip, unable to do any harm since it had no mouth and no claws on its blunt limbs, was a beige-colored teddy bear with a red heart across its chest that read 'I Wuv You.' Firmly placed on its head and covering the rounded ears was the black silk yamulke with the dread word of power 'Emeth' in gold script.
8/13/2019
