Cybil knocked on the door as she entered Ashe’s office. She did it more to warn him that she was coming than anything else. He looked up from some papers he worked on and smiled. She made her way into the office. Ever since opening up the laptop yesterday, she’d been worried what kind of reaction Ashe would have had to her doing so. Everything seemed fine.
“What do you need me to do today?” she asked. “Any papers that need copying?”
“No, I think I’m fine for today. Maybe you should check with some of the other professors. You don’t work exclusively for me,” he said.
She thought his words were clipped and curt. His eyes told her nothing of his emotional state except that he was tired. Dark purple bags hung under them and made him look much older than he was.
“I have. I went to everyone before I came here.”
“I guess you can go to the lounge and attack homework or something like that,” Ashe said.
“Can I do it in here? Your chairs are more comfortable.”
“I don’t know, Cybil. I think it would be better if you went someplace else.”
“Are you mad at me? Is this about the laptop? I figured that you would want it back sooner than later.”
“It’s not about the laptop; although, I did find it a little bit strange that you agreed to go on a date with the police officer to get it.”
She felt a bit embarrassed and flushed. “I really wanted to get my hands on it to see if I could find anything that might explain why Marianne died.”
“I’m not mad at you for that.” He paused and took a long breath. She knew that he wrangled to find the right words. “I’m afraid that people think that we have an inappropriate relationship, something beyond student and professor.”
They were more than professor and student, she thought to herself. She felt like they were friends. Who would care if they were friends?
“We are more than that, aren’t we?” she asked.
“I don’t know what kind of feelings you are harboring for me, but I am just your boss and professor.”
“We’re not friends?” She felt a little hurt.
He looked at her. His eyes brightened a little. “I guess we might lean that way, but that’s not the impression I think others are getting.”
“Do you mean people think we’re getting it on or something like that?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Other professors,” Ashe said.
“Did they find out about me flashing at the parade? Because there was nothing sexual about that.” She lied a little. Flashing had been in part to get the stuffed alien, but to also perhaps give him a free look, and maybe whet his appetite. It felt silly now. He’d just lost his fiancée.
“No, I think they just see you hanging out in here a lot,” he said. “That’s why I think you should deal with the other professors a bit more.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be in the lounge if you need me for anything. I mean making copies or looking up research articles, not sex.”
Ashe laughed even though he tried to hide it as a cough. He did smile though. Cybil knew that things weren’t going to be as bad as they could be.
She walked back to the door and stopped. “I found something strange on Marianne’s computer.”
“What’s that?”
“She had a song by the Goth Sox in her media player. Did she know the band?” She looked back at him.
“I don’t think so. I’d never heard of them until the other night. I don’t know, maybe one of her friends gave it to her.”
“I tried to listen to it, but it sounded funny like it had an echo or something. I just thought you might like to know that.”
“I’ll check it out. Thank you.” He smiled again, and it was warm and welcoming. She felt much better about their standing with each other, and she started into the hall. “When do you have to go on that date?”
She turned to look at him. “Tonight at a downtown bar.”
“That’s too bad. I kind of wanted to go to another parade. I don’t really have friends who do that.”
“We can still go. I’d like someone around just in case this guy gets fresh.”
“Sounds good, but it’s completely platonic,” Ashe said.
“I’ll write I’m not doing Professor Ashley Shrove on my forehead in permanent marker,” she said.
“I’ll see you this evening. We’ll take my car again.”
“Good because you’d look funny riding bitch on my Vespa.”
Ashe opened Marianne’s laptop. Cybil hadn’t turned it off after she’d been searching it the night before. The screen woke from sleep mode. The happy picture of him and Marianne stared from desktop. If he kept the computer, he’d have to change that. Looking at the picture would depress him every time he worked on it. He opened up the media player software. The first song he saw on the play list was something called “Pink-Striped Hair” by the Goth Sox. He could only imagine what it would sound like after hearing a little of their music live.
“Knock, knock,” Father Smalls said.
Ashe looked up and smiled at the priest. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. What brings you by?”
“Erik told me that you went to Birmingham yesterday, and that you encountered something disturbing again.”
Smalls walked in and sat in one of the visitor’s chairs. He crossed his legs and folded his hands over one knee. Ashe double-clicked on the Goth Sox’s song. It started to play from the speakers. The music was strained and harsh just like bad punk rock usually was.
“Apparently whatever happened to Marianne has spread to central Alabama,” he said. “Excuse the music, but I need to listen to this.”
Smalls curled his lip up as the music hit a very sour note. Ashe felt like doing the same thing. He could hear what Cybil had mentioned. The song did sound like it was echoing.
“What kind of music is that?” Smalls asked.
“A local band called the Goth Sox. Apparently Marianne had downloaded it.”
“Did she like that kind of music?”
“No.”
“What’s the matter with it? It sounds like two versions are playing at the same time.”
Ashe clicked on the stop button. The music quit playing. “That’s exactly what it is. I was trying to figure it out. I think one version is playing faster than the other.”
“Is that what punk musicians usually do when they record it, nowadays?” Smalls asked. “It’s a bit different from the Ramones or Blondie.”
“I have no idea. This isn’t my kind of music either, but I doubt it. I think something happened to the file.”
Ashe opened the center drawer of his desk and rummaged around in it. His found a blue thumb drive. He pulled it from the drawer and shoved it into the laptop’s USB port. Then he downloaded the Goth Sox song onto it.
“I thought maybe you might need to talk about things?” Smalls said.
“What kind of things?” Ashe transferred the thumb drive from the laptop to his computer.
A virus scan popped up automatically. He’d set up his computer to do that every time he inserted a USB device. Sometimes students turned in work from their personal drives. He didn’t want to risk his computer crashing from some funky student-acquired virus.
“You’ve lost your fiancée recently. Then you go up to Birmingham to help them with a similar missing persons. Erik said that you saw the missing woman down here at a parade.”
“That’s right. Remind me not to tell him any secrets. His mouth is way too big.”
Ashe opened up the Goth Sox’s song in a wave analysis program. He played the song. A green line started to pulsate on the screen as the music swelled up. On the good speakers attached to his desktop computer, the music didn’t sound as bad. A few seconds into the song, another line began to pulsate on the screen. It kept close to the first.
“Erik was worried that you might be having a psychotic break. He’s a clinical psychologist too, but doesn’t specialize in actual therapy.”
“You’re right. He just electronically stores emotions. I think that he is off base. I actually saw that woman. My work-study student, Cybil, saw her too.” Ashe thought that he probably needed to tell her about the woman as well.
“Erik mentioned Cybil too.”
“Let me guess, he thinks that I’ve started a romantic relationship with her. We talked about that nonsense last night.” He really wanted to say something stronger than nonsense, but wasn’t going to curse in front of a priest.
“He said that you became very angry about him mentioning that,” Smalls said.
“Because it’s not true.” Ashe stopped talking and put up his hand to stop the priest from saying anything.
The music changed. There were two competing versions of the song playing off sync, but something piggybacked with both. A third green line bounced up and down the screen. The new sound was speech.
“What’s wrong with that song?” Smalls asked.
“I don’t know.”
Ashe clicked through the menus on the screen. He dropped the two lines of the song out, leaving only the third echo. The words were garbled and not English.
Ratreuer eativ olam muc. Srom ibit teinev.
“Turn it off,” Smalls said. “Hurry. Benedicat nos Deus.”
Ashe hit the pause button. “What’s the matter?”
“That was an incantation in reverse Latin,” Smalls said. “What band is that?”
“They’re called the Goth Sox. I saw them play, and I doubt they know Latin. They sound like they would barely know English.”
“Then someone who does know dark things has gotten to them.”
“I still don’t get your meaning.”
“It is believed that Satan and his worshipers use reverse Latin in spells as a way to bring about his evil magic.”
“Do all priests know this or just you?” Ashe felt like he’d drifted in some cheesy Hammer horror film.
“I don’t think we all know this kind of thing, but I do. You remember I told you that I work adjunct for the school. I teach parapsychology. I’m an expert in psychoreligious phenomena.”
“You mean like exorcisms or stigmata?” Ashe asked, having no real idea what he meant.
“I study incidents of levitation, glossolalia or speaking in tongues, exorcisms and other religious phenomena. I also have done studies in witchcraft and black magic. That sounded a lot like what I’ve encountered in that field of study.”
Ashe felt sick to his stomach. “What would happen if someone listened to that whole song?”
“They would probably get a headache from hearing the overlying music, but I don’t know what the incantation would have done,” Smalls said.
“Would it kill? Could it?”
Smalls shrugged. “Most psychoreligious phenomena have their power based in belief. If someone knew what they were listening to, maybe. If they didn’t, I doubt that it would have done anything.”
“What if it was real instead of some kind of mind trick?” Ashe asked.
“Then, it could have done great harm, but I don’t think that Marianne was a victim of demonic evil. The only time I ever encountered supposed black magic phenomena I couldn’t explain was in West Africa. I’ve only encountered hogwash in America.”
“Is that the scientific term?”
“Of course.”
Ashe smiled and picked up his phone and dialed the number for the lounge. When Cybil picked up, he asked her to come back to his office. If anyone would know something about that band it would be her. She seemed to have been a fan of them. Cybil walked in less than a minute later.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Have a seat.” Ashe pointed to the chair beside Smalls.
She did, eyeing the priest the whole time.
“This is Father Smalls,” Ashe said.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Cybil.”
“You’re his work-study student, correct?” Smalls said.
She pointed her thumb at the priest. “Is he the one who said we were having sex? I didn’t think you guys were allowed to think about that kind of stuff.”
Smalls appeared to blush. Ashe had to keep from laughing.
“No, he isn’t,” Ashe said. “He just dropped by to check on me. He’s a psychologist and a friend of Dr. Rogers’.”
“I’m so sorry,” Cybil said. “I’ve never spoken to a preacher like that before. Please don’t have God smite me or anything like that.”
Smalls laughed. “I don’t think I can do that anyway.”
“Cybil, what do you know about that band from the other night?”
“The Goth Sox?”
“Yeah,” Ashe said.
“They’ve been playing around Mobile for a few years. They play punk covers and few originals.”
“Do they profess to be Satanist or talk about witchcraft or things like that?” Smalls asked.
“They’re emo, but I don’t think they do any of that.” Cybil looked puzzled. “Why?”
“That song on Marianne’s computer had a reverse Latin incantation on it. Father Smalls thinks it might be an attempt at a satanic spell,” Ashe said.
“Come on.” She looked at the priest. “You’re serious?”
“Very much. I think whoever recorded it thought it was a real spell. Do you know where the band members live or anything else about them?” Smalls asked.
“No. I’m not really friends with them. I’ve met the lead singer a time or two.” She looked at Ashe. “That guy who was sitting with me at the bar the other night is her brother’s boyfriend.”
“Do you know where we can find them? Does your friend know?” Smalls asked.
“They’re playing at the Bayside Bar tonight,” she said. “That’s where I’m meeting that cop.”
“You feel like taking in a parade and maybe some live music?” Ashe asked the priest.
“Laissez les bons temps rouler,” he replied.
Traffic Camera: Dauphin and St. Joseph Streets, Mobile, AL, 7:45 p.m. CST
A strand of beads cuts across the lens. It obscures some of the view, but a large parade float is still visible lumbering down the street. Revelers lean over barriers and stretch out to catch throws on both sides of the street. Ashe and Smalls stand behind Cybil, who waves her hands at the passing parade. A man dressed in a sequined tunic and mask riding a horse passes in front of her. She cheers and shoves something into her pocket.
Across the street, Carol Heinz stands against the barrier. She does not lift her arms up to catch beads or flying MoonPies. Several of those things bounce off her without her making a single movement. A man stands beside her. He too makes no movements to block or catch throws. The crowd around them pushes against them trying to get a better position for wrangling in the parade goodies. The man, who is broad and menacing in appearance, moves just enough to block anyone from getting in front of him and Heinz, but he does not take an actively aggressive stance. The crowd continues to push against them, but still neither gives room.
The lights of a fire truck flash. The last float crosses the intersection. On one side of the street Cybil climbs off the barrier. She, Ashe and Smalls step back into the crowd. On the other side, Heinz and the man turn, and the crowd swallows them.