The President's Wife Is Missing (Mirror Walker Book 1)

The President’s Wife Is Missing

Mirror Walker Book 1

Mitchell Micone

Published by Fiction4All at Smashwords

Copyright 2018 Mitchell Micone

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Chapter One

Alice Wilson

David Malone walked carefully around his house checking that all the doors and windows were closed and properly locked. He stopped in his office, which had a separate door on the side of the brick ranch-style home, and made sure that the sign in the door window said, Out of the office, will return at... He turned the red plastic hands on the printed clock face to four o’clock. That should give him enough time. This was a local case. He would be back by then.

Walking back through the house toward his bedroom, he stopped and set the perimeter alarm system to ‘on’. It wasn’t that he was paranoid, but he was, after all, a licensed private investigator. Even limiting his practice to his unique specialty, he had upset enough people through the years to justify being careful, especially when he would be so vulnerable.

Satisfied that all was secure, he entered his bedroom, closed the blinds and then pulled the heavy curtains. After his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, he stripped off his clothing and stood naked before the large, bullfighter tapestry which hung from an especially large and ornate iron bar mounted on one wall of the bedroom. After taking a few deep breaths, he reached up and released a latch hidden within the iron filigree.

The bar swung open and David carefully pushed it around so the bullfighter was now facing– and covering– his closet door. Mounted on the wall behind the tacky tapestry was a huge mirror. Except it wasn’t really a mirror. It was just a large sheet of automotive glass which David had ordered cut to size with slightly rounded corners. He, himself, had applied the several layers of spray paint to the back side of the glass to create the black mirror which he then carefully hung on his bedroom wall.

He relaxed and stared into the mirror, shuffling on the carpet and moving his legs slightly outward to a more stable position. His arms, seeming to move on their own, raised up and out until he was standing in a cruciform position. His body relaxed further and his breath became more and more shallow as he concentrated on looking into his own eyes.

He waited until the iris on his left eye seemed to open more fully and invite him to gaze into himself. Focusing on his own open eye, the image of the rest of himself in the mirror began to slowly dissolve and he started repeating slowly, Angela Wilson, Angela Wilson, Angela Wilson...

There was a pulling feeling as if he were being sucked into the black mirror and suddenly he was looking up at a bright blue sky. Green stems of reeds stuck up in front of him. Light brown cattails were swaying in a light breeze above him. The strange pulling feeling came again and he was standing on the smooth, still surface of the water.

Looking quickly around, he sought any familiar landmark or building that would tell him where he was. As he slowly turned three hundred sixty degrees, nothing was visible but trees and a vast stretch of wetlands which seemed to surround him. He could be anywhere– well, anywhere with shallow water and cattails. Then the sound of laughter caused him to turn suddenly. Three young women on bicycles raced past in the distance on what had to be a bicycle trail. Three miles to go, one of them yelled. Last one to the Old Mill buys lunch.

David Malone now knew where he was. He was on the Old Mill Bicycle Path south of town. He slowly exhaled as he looked at the body floating face down in the shallow water. The high reeds hid her from anyone on the bike path. The sound of traffic was so faint that he was sure she was also not visible from the distant highway. In all likelihood, with the thick reeds, she wasn’t even readily visible from the air unless you were low... and right over her.

In his mirror form– invisible to those on the bike path– he couldn’t move her... or the reeds. But he didn’t have to. He had seen her face before he emerged from the mirror surface of the still water. It was the face in the photograph taped to the edge of the mirror.

He closed his eyes and said softly, Home.

When he opened his eyes, he was once again standing in his bedroom. David Malone, private investigator who, at age 27, could find almost anyone, anywhere in the world, had once again succeeded when everyone else had failed.

He did not, however, celebrate his success. His voice reflected his sorrow as he called Mr and Mrs Wilson to report his find. He spoke slowly and softly. He had learned the hard way to be careful with his words in these circumstances. Several times parents or husbands or wives had responded joyously when he informed them that he had found their loved one, only to realize belatedly that he was not speaking of the living.

I’m very sorry, he said softly, but I think I have located Alice’s body.

He waited for the sobs to quiet before continuing. Tell the police to look in the shallow water west of the Old Mill Bicycle Path about three miles south of town. The body should be visible from a helicopter or a search drone now that they know where to look. He paused and said sincerely, I was hoping it would work out differently, but... He let his voice trail off.

Thank you, came the quiet response from Mr Wilson. We will call Detective Nash and tell him what you’ve told us.

He set the phone back on the small table next to his bed and began to dress himself. He left his casual clothing on the bed where it lay and pulled dress pants and a suit coat from the closet. He also put on a dress shirt and tie. It is always a good idea to make the best impression possible when the police think you are meddling in their business.

***

When Detective Robert Nash knocked on the door to his office, David was sitting behind his desk appearing to do paperwork. Come in, he yelled as the detective opened the door.

Detective Nash stepped into the room and almost immediately dropped himself down into one of the two padded chairs which sat in front of the desk. OK, nut job, he said, you know the routine. I ask you the official questions. You give me your bullshit answers, and then I take you downtown so someone higher up on the food chain can listen to your fairy tales for the rest of the night.

I assume you found the body, David said softly.

Right where you God-damned said it would be! Nash replied gruffly. His voice was just below a shout.

Official question, he said a little more softly. How in the hell did you know where the body was?

David sighed. He had been through this many times before. I saw it in the mirror, he said flatly. Just like I see all the other people I find– dead or alive.

The detective stood in front of the desk. His six-foot-three frame blocked most of the sunlight coming through the window. Official question number two, he growled out without moving his jaw or his lips. Will you come willingly down to the station house to discuss your involvement in the murder of Alice Wilson?

I always come willingly, David answered politely as he got up from his chair. At six foot even, his slim build was dwarfed by the muscular detective. The house is all locked up, he said firmly. We can go out through the office door.

Gotta put you in the back, Nash said as they walked out onto the driveway. They’ve gotten real picky since that wack job got hold of Parker’s gun last month. I even have to put little old ladies back there now.

I understand, David said. He did understand. He had been through this many times before both in Plain City and with other law enforcement agencies. The police anywhere are very suspicious of someone who can tell them where a dead body is located. They don’t believe that anyone can see dead people in a mirror. And they especially don’t believe that someone who knows where the body is knows nothing at all about who killed them or why.

They both remained quiet during the drive to the station house. Once there, Detective Nash turned him over to the