Page 33 of Pointy Ears and Purple Glitter
“Garrison?” Ian’s face paled. “Dark hair, fancy suits, talks like he went to some posh school?”
Malik straightened. “Do you know him?”
“Not personally. My mam would lock me in my bedroom for a month if she thought I had anything to do with him.” Ian put his mug down carefully. “But there’s been talk. He’s been recruiting around town, offering kids a lot of money to do his dirty work. Some of the guys I used to go to school with were approached. They were telling me about it Saturday night when I met up with them.”
“What exactly is he recruiting for?” Tynan asked.
“Says he’s ‘cleaning up the neighborhood.’” Ian made air quotes. “But it’s not like normal gang stuff. He’s got these weird ideas about who belongs and who doesn’t.”
“Weird how?” Malik pressed.
Ian shifted uncomfortably. “Like…he thinks certain types of people are unnatural. Calls them freaks. My mate Denny said Garrison went on about how he could ‘spot the freaks’ and how they needed to be driven out.”
Malik felt a cold weight settle in his stomach. His eyes met Tynan’s, seeing the same concern reflected there.
“That’s disturbing,” Tynan said carefully. “Does he have any specific criteria for these ‘freaks’?”
“That’s the thing.” Ian leaned forward, lowering his voice despite them being alone. “It’s not like regular bigotry, you know? Not about race or anything obvious. Denny said Garrison claims he can sense people who are ‘hiding their true nature.’” He shrugged. “Whatever that means.”
Malik’s jaw tightened. It meant trouble for anyone who wasn’t entirely human.
“There’s more,” Ian continued. “Garrison’s got these weird symbols for different areas he wants to ‘clean up.’ Animals and stuff. My cousin works over on Elm Street, and their block got tagged with a snake symbol last month.”
“We got a rhino,” Malik said flatly.
Ian’s eyes widened. “Serious? That’s what they put on the door?”
Tynan nodded. “Crossed out, with ‘freaks out’ written underneath.”
“Bloody hell.” Ian rubbed his neck. “Look, I don’t know what this guy’s deal is, but he’s bad news. My mam says he reminds her of those cult leaders from the documentaries she watches.”
“Great,” Malik muttered. “A gang leader with a messiah complex.”
Sparky fluttered down from the rafters, landing on Tynan’s shoulder. “Any donuts today? A bird needs strength to fight crime.”
Ian laughed, tension momentarily broken. “No donuts, but I’ve got a muffin in my bag if you’re interested.”
While Ian fetched his offering for Sparky, Malik leaned closer to Tynan. “I don’t like this,” he murmured. “Sensing people’s ‘true nature’? Animal symbols? It’s too close to home.”
“I know,” Tynan whispered back. “We need to be careful.”
When Ian returned, Malik steered the conversation to work matters, outlining the day’s tasks. The normalcy helped ground him, though he remained hyperaware of every sound outside the workshop.
After they’d been working for about an hour, Malik said it was time for a break, and they joined Tynan in the office. After making a coffee and sharing a cookie with Sparky, Ian piped up and said, “There was something I wanted to talk to you both about this morning, but after the mess with the tagging, I forgot. But it’s about Mrs. Cooper.”
Tynan, who had been resting his head on Malik’s shoulder – something Malik truly appreciated given he was still unsettled - looked up with interest. “Did you find something new?”
“Yeah.” Ian fished in the tin for another cookie. “I did some digging like you suggested, went back further in her history. Turns out this isn’t the first time she’s hired someone to find a missing person.”
Malik set down his coffee mug. “Go on.”
“About fifteen years ago, her husband disappeared. A police investigation turned up nothing. She hired three different private investigators over the next two years.” Ian pulled out his phone, showing them a scanned newspaper article. “Eventually, they found the husband living in Australia with a new identity. The article says he claimed he had to escape because Mrs. Cooper was ‘dangerous and unstable.’”
“That certainly puts a different spin on things,” Tynan said, leaning forward to examine the article.
“There’s more,” Ian continued, swiping to another image. “Ten years ago, her brother went missing. Same pattern - police investigation then private investigators. They never found him.”
Malik frowned. “And now her daughter.”
