1944

As she brings the coffee pot and fills our mugs at the table Melissa sits down across from me.  "We both prefer our brew black and bitter", say I. "Like life", she quips but without even a meek suggestion of a grin.  "We both have synesthesia.  Do you know what that means?" "That we're both a little bit unusual?" "Besides that", she snaps. "I'm not sure what you're getting at." "Synesthetes are both highly sensitive and highly aware, highly conscious, it's like we can never quite reach  our off switch.  Do you have trouble staying asleep, dream vividly? ""Yes, and yes." "Greta Thunberg, the environmental activist, is not neurotypical and she calls her asperger's a superpower.  See what I'm getting at?" "Yes", and now this needs no further explaining, and yes, now suddenly, it is like being an archeologist and finally discovering the key to Linear A script and unlocking all the secrets of Ancient Crete... I did not see this coming, and bodily I am instinctively backing away from the table while still remaining in the chair.  "What do you mean?" "Did Carl tell you that years ago, when we found our dad lying dead with a bullet wound in his head out in the back, did he tell you that we buried him there, him and I?" "Yes, he did." Melissa takes a premeditated sip of coffee, then, turning her face to the door, shouts, "Carl.  Get in here at once." It isn't long before her brother appears at the table.  "You bellowed?" he merely says, a quirky little smile adorning his face as he seats himself at the end of the table.  She gets up and without asking first brings him a cup of coffee, to which she has added cream and a spoon. "Table service from none other", he comments, pulling toward him the mug and beginning to stir. "You're welcome" she says flatly, seating herself. "Thanks Mel.  To what purpose have I been summoned?" "I just heard from Christopher that you told him you and I buried dad...no, don't worry, you're not getting scolded, but there is something i was meaning to tell you, and I couldn't do it on the phone, so now you are here, but so far, only Christopher needs to know, so we can talk about it right now..."  She is speaking rapidly, with quiet urgency... "Okay." "Yesterday I was chatting with our half-sister Naomi, who came over for coffee between her nursing rounds. Can you guess what she told me?" "Only if you are so kind as to enlighten me ." "As I'm sure you are also worried, like me. that one day they would find his body back there, trace everything to us and then the shit would really hit the fan." "It's been a recurring nightmare, Mel." "If Naomi is telling the truth and I have no reason not to believe her, then from now on we can both stop worrying." "You mean?" "Just after you and I left, basically running for our little lives, Carl, people from the Stolo Nation came, dug up the body and moved it to an undisclosed location." "You mean..." "I mean that we are off the hook. For now anyway. But that also complicates things." "By the way, Mel, where did you get this coffee, it is just wonderful" "There's a new coffee roaster and café in Chilliwack. It is their house blend. Now if we could remain on topic." "So what else is new?" "There is some question, according to Naomi, who has some pretty good sources with the band, that the remains they are wanting to track are going to be here, in this house..or should I say, under the house." "Huh." "And that Spanish guy who left that journal here in Spanish? He is the principal suspect, they have found and detained him for questioning, and he has agreed to help in the search tomorrow." "And", say I, "There is also the question of how did people in the Stolo Nation know that your dad was buried here..." "Naomi would have the answer for that", says Mel. "Then we should ask her.  Will she be here tomorrow?" "There is one little complication.  She ain't telling.  I was going to ask her then she totally shut up and backed off, like she knows more, maybe a lot more than she's gonna say." "Do you think someone from the Stolo Nation did it?"  I ask. "Oh I'm sure they know", says Melissa, "I'm sure they already know." "Do you reckon Sven Lindstrom might be the one." "Oh poor Mr Lindstrom", says Melissa, sighing, "Always the easiest target in the universe, and now there is no way we can reach him, and that holy adolescent sure ain't gonna let him out of his sight." "Nor us, but yes, he is, as it were, under special custody.  What about Cosme?" Whose name I once borrowed, "Where does he fit in?" "According to our half sister, Cosme, who is now eighty-one, has long enjoyed a friendship with the Stolo nation, including a lengthy common-law arrangement with a woman there by whom he has fathered three kids.  He has voluntarily given himself up to the authorities, and apparently there is a lot he knows that is not in the diary."