The Medusa Ritual
A Pierce Mostyn Paranormal Investigation
by
CW Hawes
Is there a connection between Die Unaussprechlichen Riten, that terrible book of arcane knowledge, and James Cortado, the supposed sculptor of those too lifelike statues?
That’s beginning to seem the case, especially after Mostyn narrowly misses getting rundown by a car.
Read on for more adventure!
5
Mostyn held an early morning breakfast meeting to hear what the other team members had discovered and to report his and Dotty’s findings. After the coffee had been poured and everyone had taken what they wanted of the pastries, eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and toast, Mostyn asked Jones and NicAskill to begin.
Jones, a look of disgust on his face, said, “I never saw such shit in all my life.”
Petrie chimed in, “Contemporary art is just plain ugly. Like most people.”
“Then you’ve never seen good contemporary art,” NicAskill replied.
Petrie waved away NicAskill’s comment.
“Check out Lukas Freeborn, or Amy Gibbons, or Helen Cranshaw.”
“Never heard of them,” Petrie said.
“Then your ignorance is showing.” NicAskill said the statement with a wicked smile on her face.
Mostyn intervened. “We can discuss modern art another time. What did you learn?”
“Sorry, Boss,” NicAskill said. “That fat guy that was talking to you and Dr Kemper? Well, he came over to us after talking to some skinny old woman in a dress right out of the 1930s. Apparently he owns several of Cortado’s paintings and thinks the guy is the cat’s meow. I finally got him to talk about Cortado instead of just his paintings. Took some doing, but he finally started to tell me about Cortado.”
“So what did he say?” Baker asked.
“Apparently Cortado came out of nowhere about five years ago,” NicAskill said. “At first he just sold his paintings. Then about a year and a half ago, Salzman joins him and Cortado starts offering sculptures for sale.”
“A year and a half ago is when we first heard of Die Unaussprechlichen Riten von Dem dessen Name Nicht Genannt Werden Kann,” Dr Stoppen said, the German words rolling fluently off his tongue.
“Which implies there may be a connection between the book, Salzman, and the statues,” Mostyn said. “Good. Any thing more you two can add? Jones?”
“Nope,” Jones replied. “Kym said it all.”
Mostyn mentally shook his head. The Greek god was moving in for his next conquest. He turned to Winifred Petrie. “Dr Petrie and Dr Hammerschmidt, what did you two discover?
Petrie answered, “Apart from a lot of ugly paintings, not much until I saw the sculptures.”
Hammerschmidt interrupted. “Most of the people there had just heard of Cortado. So they didn’t actually know much if anything about him. It seems Jeremy Pitkin, the fatten in the bad tux, has been something of an evangelist for Cortado. He got most of those people to show up.”
“The sculptures are something else,” Petrie said, taking back the stage. “In my opinion, I don’t see how he could have carved them. My nephew has done some sculpture work and has made some lovely pieces, but he has yet to achieve the detail in his work that this Cortado is claiming to have achieved in his. And my nephew’s been sculpting for ten years.”
“I’m a chemist, not a geologist,” Hammerschmidt said, “so recognizing types of stone is not my field. However, I didn’t recognize the stone those sculptures were carved from. If, as Winifred’s implied, that they were carved at all.”
“If I had to take a guess,” Baker said, “I think the stone was something akin to marble, which will hold very fine detail, but I don’t think it was marble and I’ve never photographed marble statues with that much detail.”
Mostyn then told the group his and Dotty’s findings, as well as the purchase of the sculptures for the lab people to analyze. When he was done, he asked if anyone had any questions.
“Yeah, I do,” Jones said. “What’s next?”
“I want you all to start nosing around the art community,” Mostyn replied. “Find out everything you can on Salzman and Cortado. We should have a report from headquarters this afternoon. But I want the local talk.”
“What about the people at the show?” Petrie asked.
“I don’t think they’ll be helpful, since most of them hadn’t heard of Cortado prior to last night,” Mostyn replied. “However, Mr Pitkin might be persuaded to tell us more. NicAskill, I’d like you to talk to him. You probably know more about modern art than all of us combined.”
“Sure thing, Boss.”
“And I think you should talk to him alone,” Mostyn added. “I think he’ll tell you more that way. He seems to like the ladies. After you’re done, catch up with Jones.” To the group, he said, “The rest of us will take the partners we had last night. I don’t think we’ll encounter any problems, but I don’t want to take any chances. Questions?”
When Mostyn saw that there weren’t any, he told the team to move out.
***
Mostyn drove the black sedan out of the hotel garage.
“Where are we going?” Kemper asked.
“I want to start with the Jewish girl’s school across the street from the gallery.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s there.”
“For crying out loud, Mostyn. Do you have to be so goddamn cryptic?”
“No.”
“Is that all? Shit?”
Mostyn let out a laugh. “Lighten up, Dot.”
Dotty Kemper took a deep breath, and exhaled. “Okay, Mostyn. Will you please tell me why you want to start at the girl’s school?”
“As I said, it’s there and because the school is there they might know something.”
“Okay, I’ll buy that.”
“Anymore questions, Dr Kemper?” A smile tugged at Mostyn’s lips.
“Not at the moment, Special Agent in Charge Mostyn.”
“Good.”
There was a pause and then Dotty asked, “Would you like to retire here, Pierce?”
“I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it. Off hand, I’d say there are too many people. I’d like to go someplace a little quieter.”
“Here in southern California?”
“Sure. Someplace off the beaten path.”
“Good. I like it here.”
Mostyn thought of Helene and wondered if she’d like it in southern California. He loved Dotty, loved her very much. However, if he was honest with himself, he loved Helene too.
There are times, he thought, when I wish Helene had left us to our fate down there in K’n-yan. Might have been better for all of us.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Dotty said.
“They aren’t even worth that,” Mostyn replied. “Just focusing on the traffic.”
Mostyn threaded the sedan through the crowded west LA streets and soon they were at their destination. He circled the block twice, before finding a place to park.
“You really think they’ll know something here?”
“Probably not,” Mostyn replied, “but we won’t know until we ask.”
“You’re the boss.”
They walked in the front door and encountered a security guard and desk. “How may I help you?” the man asked.
“I’m Special Agent in Charge Pierce Mostyn of the IRS.” Mostyn showed the guard his ID. “And this is Special Agent Dotty Kemper.” Kemper showed her ID. “We’d like to talk with the chief administrator.”
“That would be Dr Abraham Katz. Let me phone and see if he’s available.” The guard made his phone call, spoke to someone named Miriam on the other end, and after a minute he hung up. He looked at Mostyn. “Miriam, Dr Katz’s secretary, will be here momentarily.”
Momentarily stretched into seven minutes, before Mostyn and Kemper heard shoes clip-clopping on the terrazzo floor. Miriam was a short, busty woman, with stylish gray hair, and was dressed in a cream pants suit. She walked up to Mostyn and Kemper.
“I’m Miriam Cantor. If you will follow me?” She turned and started walking back the way she came. Mostyn and Kemper followed. When they reached the door to the office, she paused, and said, “Dr Katz is very busy.”
Mostyn replied, “We won’t take up anymore of his time than is necessary.”
Miriam Cantor opened the door and entered the office, the outer portion of the office as it turned out. She walked up to a door, knocked, opened it wide enough to poke her head in, and then pushed the door open, indicating with her hand Mostyn and Kemper should enter.
Mostyn nodded to her and walked through the doorway, followed by Kemper. Miriam closed the door behind them. Before them a tall, heavy set man stood behind a large walnut desk. His hair was black and partly covered by a black kippah. He wore a black suit, white shirt, and a red tie with tiny navy blue dots.
He walked around his desk, his hand extended to Mostyn. “I’m Abraham Katz. I understand you’re with the IRS?”
“That’s correct.” Mostyn took the doctor’s hand and shook it. “I’m Pierce Mostyn.”
Dotty extended her hand. “I’m Dotty Kemper.”
Dr Katz took her hand and held it momentarily before letting go. “Please, have a seat.” Katz motioning to a sitting area off to the side of the room.
Mostyn and Kemper sat on the couch and Katz sat in one of the tub chairs.
Katz folded his hands across his stomach. “I hope we haven’t missed something in our bookkeeping.”
Mostyn smiled. “We aren’t here about the school. At least not directly.”
The relief was visible on Katz’s face.
Dotty smiled. “Unfortunately our presence has an undesirable effect on people. I apologize.”
Mostyn continued, “We’re actually investigating some of the artists and art galleries and were hoping you could be of help to us.”
“How so?” Katz asked.
“We’re looking into the gallery across the street,” Mostyn explained, “and in particular an artist named James Cortado and his manager Milt Salzman. Have you had any dealings with the studio or the men.”
“Two, maybe three, years ago Mr Cortado taught a couple classes here. But he didn’t work out and we didn’t renew his contract.”
“Can you tell us what the issue was?” Dotty asked.
“I’d rather not,” Katz replied. “His being here ended up posing a problem with the younger girls, and we let him go.”
“Can you tell us anything about him?” Mostyn asked.
“Not really. I didn’t know him. Principal Kellerman dealt with him. I can give you here number and you can make arrangements to speak with her directly.”
“Thank you,” Mostyn said, “that would be helpful.”
Katz got up, went to his desk and sat. He opened a drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper, scanned it, then jotted a note. He got up, and walked to Mostyn, giving him the slip of paper.
“That’s her number. Tell her I gave it to you.”
Mostyn stood, Dotty also. “Thank you, Dr Katz,” Mostyn said.
“You’re welcome. Miriam will show you out.”
When they were on the sidewalk, Dotty said, “Well, Cortado is as snaky as he looks.”
“What do you mean?”
“They booted him because he was being inappropriate with young girls.”
“So it seems,” Mostyn replied. “And I’m not surprised given that he’s on our radar. He’s either up to no good or involved with those who are.”
“Agreed. So now what?”
“We talk with the gallery owners.”
Mostyn started to cross the street, when a car, tires squealing, raced around the corner. He leapt out of the way just as the car swept over the spot where he’d been standing.
“Are you alright?” Dotty nearly screamed the question.
“I am. Looks like we pissed somebody off. The question is, who?”
To Be Continued!
While waiting for the next installment, the entire Pierce Mostyn Paranormal series is available for your reading pleasure.
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About Van Dyne’s Vampires:
Fans of the X-Files and those with an interest in folklore or urban legends will find it hard to put down.
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If you’re looking for an entertaining story to grab by the neck... or grab you by the neck... then this is it. —Crispian Thurlborn, author of Exit, A Bump in the Night, 01134, Cinder, and others.
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