Chapter 10

Dashiell spent the rest of the afternoon in an unproductive visit to fifteen residences. True to Frank’s prediction, no one on the list was willing to talk to him. Many of them pretended a complete ignorance of the English language. They gave really obvious bad excuses – “No Engrish” and the like. Dashiell wasn’t buying it, but he didn’t want to push too hard.

After each interview, he would perform a little cantrip outside each door, to detect the presence of witchcraft. He would occasionally detect some small traces, probably from various knickknacks around the house. But there was nothing powerful, that would indicate the use of the tiger parts. And nothing that came close to the level of magic he’d deduced had been used at the zoo.

His feet tired, he decided to head back to his office. One thing he’d learned as an investigator, both as a government agent and in private life, was that sometimes, he just had to wait. Sure, for some crimes, the first twenty four hours were key. But for others, he just had to sit back and wait for something else to happen. It was even possible that the police lab’s mundane detection methods would discover something useful.

But waiting didn’t mean not doing anything. He spent some time in his office looking over alternative uses for tiger parts. Then he expanded the search to include all large cats, and then all mammals. Sure, the tiger was most likely picked specifically. The amount of work that went into getting the parts indicated as much.

But he’d learned long ago not to make any assumptions. Assumptions closed off possibilities, and sometimes you had to explore possibilities in order to find the truth. That was the thing about witchcraft. As much as people relied on the old ways, it was a growing field, and people were constantly discovering new spells, and new uses for old ingredients.

There were limits however. Each item used in witchcraft had certain inherent properties. If you wanted your spells to have maximum effect, you had to harness those properties, and work with them. New spells for newness sake didn’t make sense. Not when you could rely on the old way for the same, or a more potent effect.

So he researched the uses for tiger parts. Tried to discern their inherent properties. Tried to figure out what sorts of magic he’d use them for. Because if he could figure out what the spellcaster intended, well that told him a great deal about them.

After reading over about the fiftieth spell that incorporated tiger parts, Dashiell was no closer to solving the mystery. For obvious reasons, most of the spells were Asian in origin, Far East, Southeast and South Asian. There were even a few European spells. But not many of those.

Tiger parts were mainly used for spells of power and strength. So…he was looking for someone interested in power. Well, Dashiell thought to himself, that really narrowed it down. He looked up at the clock. It was past seven. He decided to call it a night.

He stopped by a little café he knew, and grabbed a quick bite to eat. Then he hopped the Metro and headed home.

He got in around eight and flopped down on his couch, flipping on the TV. He channel surfed until he ended up on AMC. They were playing Casablanca. He set the remote down and grabbed a glass of Diet Coke. It was going to be a good night. He really enjoyed the classics. Bogey was a particular favorite of his.

When the movie ended, he flipped to the local FOX affiliate, to catch the ten o’clock news. After covering the elections, the anchor moved on to local news. The lead local story was the case of a dead hooker found early in the day. He smiled as he saw Regina in the B roll running in the background.

It sounded like a particularly gruesome case. Apparently, she’d been slashed pretty badly, with special attention paid to her nether regions. There was a theory that a psychopath had done it, someone with a pathological hatred of women. He silently wished Regina good luck, and hoped she wouldn’t have trouble sleeping. Some cases could really get to you.

The dead zookeeper and tiger were next. There was no mention of Dashiell’s involvement, which didn’t surprise him. Metro PD probably wouldn’t want it known that they’d hired outside help. And they certainly wouldn’t want to mention any occult involvement in the case. The general public had a strong disbelief in the occult, and that probably wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

When the sports scores came on, Dashiell watched until they reported the score of the Duke game, then he flipped off the TV and yawned. It had been a long day. He decided to call it an early night. He headed upstairs, used the facilities, and emptied his pockets onto the dresser. He placed the acorn in a dish, and untied his handkerchief before dropping it in the laundry, along with his shirt. He hung his trousers on the back of a chair, then climbed into bed, making sure he was facing south. He slowly drifted off to sleep.

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