State of Wizards

By Richard W Hunter, Jr

Jimmy (Tripp) Farriday refines his Talent for finding Lost Items. Sara Jean Tomlinsen learns there are worse ways to punish a wizard than killing them and has to step up her efforts when Miles Ritter gets shot by a ‘normal’. Patrick (Butch) Hart once again finds himself in over his head as a group wants to take over Baja California as a open community for wizards and normals. Excesses force Sara Jean to step in to resolve the faulty decision of a few.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Richard W Hunter, Jr
• Release date: Mar 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311369192

Richard W Hunter, Jr

Richard W. Hunter, Jr. has been a great many things in his life – a soldier, a bill collector, a policemen, a security guard, a paralegal, a husband, a father, and a grandfather . All of which lead up to his being a writer. He and his wife live in Alvin, Texas. He is the President of the Thelma Ley Anderson YMCA Writers’ Guild in Alvin, Texas.

Book preview

Chapter 01

Tripp and Sara Jean

Somewhere on the island of Manhattan in New York City, sits a forty story tall building, now usually you can name an address in any city even if it is just that it is on 52nd Street and something. Well the Letcher Droddy building does not like to be located and resists outsiders from exploring. Many people that notice the building think it is part of the Internal Revenue Service and avoid it, others see a Secret Service connection and shun the building. Everyone that nears the building finds a compelling reason to stay away, whatever you dread being near is what the building becomes in your mind.

Once in a very long while a particularly distracted or dull witted person will wander into the lobby of the Letcher Droddy building and meander among the odd shops on the first floor. There is a woman’s fashion store that has out of date clothing from the early 1900’s and the 1960’s equally. The men’s clothing store is almost as bad with more suits from the late 1890’s than the 1990’s. There are two shops that sell little artifacts, small figurines from around the world, pocket sized hand painted landscapes or seascapes or sometimes a picture of a single object or an unnamed person’s portrait. The jewelry was into silver and gold mostly plain with only the most obvious costume jewelry displaying gems and then only one display of that near the front door, there was also a private investigator’s office with a sign on the door that reads Finder of the Lost.

A bank of elevators occupies the middle of the lobby, but each set of buttons for calling that individual elevator is operated by a key. Only tenants and their guests are allowed in the elevators reads the posted sign above each call button panel. Anyone looking for the stairs will find that the doors are locked with a sign No Re-entry from this floor just above the release bar.

Not a friendly building, even for one in the heart of New York City. The Letcher Droddy building is an entire colony, perfectly contained, totally self sufficient. It was the New York home of the wizard community, all forty floors of the building. The tenants and the workers were various levels of wizards and lived in an environment where they didn’t have to hide their talents. In most major cities around the world there is a similar building that shows on the city books as abandoned but the taxes are paid and permits kept up, but it is officially unoccupied as well as unquestioned.

Inside the rather Chandleresque office of the private investigator you will find bare walls and a battered wooden desk with three wooden chipped cracked visitor’s chairs arrayed in front of the desk, several old wooden file cabinets sit behind the desk flanking the detective’s chair. In two of these visitor’s chairs sat a young man and a young woman with their knees touching leaning forward with their elbows on their knees faces inches apart.

Tripp, I thought I could handle it, but Miles gave me a chance to pass judgment on Roi Byl and . . . and. . . Sara Jean Tomlinsen covered her face with both hands and took a deep breath. Her jet black hair was pulled back into a low pony tail that hung halfway down her back, she was dressed in a white sleeveless blouse over dark brown pants and dark brown loafers. When she uncovered her face her pale blue eyes were damp but no tears had run down her face, yet.

James F. Farriday, III called Tripp by his friends or Jimmie by his customers started to reach out to take Sara Jean’s hand but pulled back as she kept her hands on her face. Look Sara Jean, Miles wouldn’t have asked you to judge someone that there was any doubt about. I mean, Roi tried to kill the President of the United States for crying out loud and a bunch of others. They did kill an old man just to set up their assignation attempt.

Taking a deep breath Sara Jean dropped her hands to her lap, I know. I know! It’s just that the day I killed him I was OK with it. I didn’t like doing it, but I could understand the necessity. But the next night I saw Roi standing there and I cut off his head, it rolled to the banister and then looked up at me and said, ‘Why did you go and do that?’. It freaked me out. I woke up gasping for air. I couldn’t get back to sleep for the rest of the night.

Reaching over Tripp patted Sara Jean’s hand, Look, if it didn’t bother you – THEN you would be totally messed up and you would scare me. But it does bother you and that’s got to be a good thing, its got to mean that you won’t go cutting off people’s heads on a whim.

God no! I wish I didn’t every have to do that again, EVER!

Remember what Mr. Cyrus said about Miles Ritter. If Ritter hadn’t volunteered for the position they would have had to invent a Ritter. So, unfortunately, it is very necessary but its got to be a really good thing that it bothers you. I know I feel safer knowing you two are watching how we all react with the ‘normals’ and each other.

Leaning back on the chair Sara Jean looked over Tripp’s head, What do you think I should do?

Standing Tripp walked around the desk and sat on the chair behind the desk, I think you should talk to Miles, if need be go back to SnowField and talk to Mr. Snow. But mostly keep in mind that you can always come talk to me. Tripp rested his forearms on the desk top.

Shaking her head Sara Jean wiped at her eyes with a handkerchief from her lap, You’re a good friend, you know that don’t you?

Yeah, buddy to the end of time that’s me. Good old Tripp, Tripp rocked the spring loaded chair back to glare at the ceiling. Maybe I would like to be more to you than just a sounding board Sara Jean.

The outer office door rattled then creaked open to admit a short, rotund man with a long fringe of grayish hair hanging above his ears and a stained dusty off brown suit over scuffed black wingtips. You find lost things, boy? he said.

Sitting up straight Tripp folded his hands on the desk top and smiled at the man, Yes Sir. That’s what the sign says and if you properly owned the item or had a real connection to the person I can find where they are. Have a seat.

Looking from Tripp to Sara Jean the little man said, I interrupting anything?

No Sir. We were just discussing an old case, a closed case. Now what can I do for you, sir?

I think I lost my Sara. Don’t know what I could have done with her, but I think she’s gone, the little man sat on the visitor’s chair as far from Sara Jean as possible and squared off on Tripp.

Staring at the little man while moving his head from side to side Tripp smiled at the man, Well sir, I have delved into the matter and after due consideration I am certain that you have not lost your Sara. Mr. Ritter.

The little man winked out of existence to be replaced by the craggy features of Miles Ritter, tall well built with short white hair pale blue eyes and his usual black suit over a buttoned white shirt. Turning to look at Sara Jean Miles said, You OK Sara?

Sighing Sara Jean sat up straight, Yeah. I’m OK, I just needed to talk to Tripp. He’s been my best friend ever since we all learned we were wizards. I knew he would just listen to me and not try to tell me what to do to ‘fix’ it.

Smiling at Tripp Sara Jean said, Thanks Tripp. I needed that.

Any time Sara Jean. Any time.

We got a bunch of kids that have been terrorizing an old retired wizard up in Alaska, Miles said. Got to try to make them stop without having to relocate the wizard. If we can. Miles stood and held the office door open for Sara Jean.

Patting Sara Jean on the back as she left Miles winked at Tripp, Sally Ann teach you that trick about the auras?

Tripp nodded. Each wizard has an aura that is as distinctive as his face, the trouble is most other wizards ignore it and ‘normals’ can’t see it so the majority of people don’t pay attention to the aura, even disguised by transformation your aura stays the same.

Miles Ritter winked at Tripp, She really needs a good friend right now. Thanks for being there for her.

Sighing Tripp’s head sagged, Yeah, any time. Any time at all.

* * * * *

So your girl just wanted to cry her heart out to you about being scared of killing someone, huh? Imelda Ravenscraft sat on the front edge of the wooden chair with her hands folded primly on her lap. Imelda ran a fortune telling business across the hall from Tripp’s detective agency, she gazed into a crystal ball, dealt Tarot cards, read tea leaves and for a lot extra would read chicken entrails. Whatever it took to make the customer feel good about the reading.

Yeah, she needed to confide in me and just needed to hear me say that it would be OK and would get better, Tripp sighed as he bowed his head over his hands. Without looking up he said, I’d much rather she needed me to hug her and pat her back while telling her it would get better with time. But she didn’t want to be touched.

Imelda winked out to be replaced by a young redheaded Sally Ann Martin, Think she thinks we got something going?

Looking up at Sally Ann Tripp smiled, I’m not sure if I told her about Sally, I know I told her about Imelda. I told her you taught me a couple of tricks.

Good to know Miles remembers me, Sally Ann smiled. Always thought he was a real good looking man, not like the soft pretty boys you see most of the time.

Chapter 02

The Lost

Tripp sat in his office at his desk reading Catcher in the Rye, again, when he heard the elevator doors clang open then crash closed; a rare occasion as most residents just transported to the first floor instead of rode. Seconds later a light tap at his office door was followed immediately by the rattle of the door window and the creak of the hinges as it slowly opened. A young looking lady wearing jeans with a bright pink tank top and white sandals stood in the door surveying the bare room. Seeing Tripp at the desk she smiled as she shut the door behind her.

Laying his book down Tripp stood waving an arm to the visitor’s chairs, May I help you?

Taking the closest chair to the door the young lady glanced around the bare room, I heard that you could help people find lost things, is that right?

If you had a real ownership of the item, yes. If it’s something you just want – no.

Well, my grandmother had a necklace that she had told me I could have after she passed. Well, ah, I ah, can’t seem to find it anywhere. I’ve borrowed it several times, while she was still alive and worn it to different occasions. Does that count? the young lady crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knee.

Tripp scratched the side of his head, I don’t know. Still learning how this works myself. I’ve got to warn you, if you don’t really have a claim on the lost item you’ll get a severe shock. Don’t know where it comes from, but the time I tried it while learning to do this, it knocked me off my chair when I searched for something I didn’t own. Tripp sat back down and folded his hands on the desk top, Just feel obliged to warn my customers, I tell this to everyone unless you’re a repeat customer.

Well, my mother and her three sisters all agree that Gramma wanted me to have the necklace and Gramma told me numerous times I would be getting it when she passed. So that should clear the Karma, shouldn’t it?

Smiling at the young lady Tripp shrugged, I never know until it’s too late. If I see where the necklace is, you have a claim. However if you get knocked off the chair then you don’t have a claim no matter what you say.

Turning his hands over palm up Tripp shoved them toward the front edge of the desk, Take my hands, both of them, close your eyes and picture the necklace. Don’t think about anything else, just the necklace.

Hesitating before touching Tripp’s hands the young lady gave a tentative smile, How long before you’ll know?

Seconds.

She touched Tripp’s left hand then his right and finally grasped them both, she sighed, closed her eyes and nodded.

Tripp felt a tingle followed by the image of the necklace. Your grandmother had a small black lacquered box that was locked with a silver key, the necklace is inside the box. The box is resting in the back of a closet in a brown paper bag with old clothes piled on top of it and a brown teddy bear sitting guard on top of the pile.

Popping her eyes open the young lady pulled her hands back and rubbed them on her pants leg, I, I know, ah where that is. Thank you. Thank you. What do I owe you?

I never set a fee, I just ask people to pay what they think it’s worth. That way I make some money and you don’t feel like I tried to take advantage.

How’s that working? The young lady was digging in her hip pocket as she leaned to the left. She pulled out several folded bills and flip counted them then peeled off several bills, Sixty enough?

Standing to reach across the desk Tripp smiled and took the bills, That would be wonderful ma’am. Thank you. I hope you enjoy your necklace and manage to keep it safe from loss. However, if it ever becomes misplaced you know where to come to find it.

As the young lady was leaving the office the front door never closed. A bony wrinkled liver spotted hand stopped it from closing and pushed it back open, the door was followed by the thin black clad form of Imelda Ravenscraft with another old woman tailing her closely. As the two women got into the office Tripp headed for the door to shut it.

So Imelda, what can I do for you and your friend?

Imelda winked out to be replaced by the red haired Sally Anne Martin, the other woman remained an old woman. The second woman sat on the hard wooden chair knees together, hands folded and pressed on her knees, she stared at the wall looking as if she had been eating lemons.

Imelda, if your friend doesn’t like being here you shouldn’t make her come in here. You know my policy, either voluntary or not at all, Tripp sat back down behind the desk.

Bah, Gisela is so use to disapproving of everything in life she doesn’t even remember some people have feelings and can get them hurt by rude behavior.

Gisela was an old woman, some where close to one hundred, slightly taller than Imelda’s five feet tall and heavier than Imdela’s ninety pounds but they still looked the same. By Imelda reverting to her normal Sally Anne the difference became startling, Sally Anne wasn’t taller than Imelda but she was seventy years younger and about fifty pounds heavier and definitely prettier.

Gisela didn’t move and if Tripp hadn’t watched her walk in he would almost swear Gisela was a mannequin. Suddenly Gisela winked out of existence replaced by a young twenty something black haired hard looking woman that turned cold hard blue eyes on Tripp. Don’t you use a public image, child?

No. Didn’t think anyone would care how I looked as long as I can do what I promise, Tripp leaned back in his spring loaded desk chair and folded his hands at his waist. Why do you care?

Like to know who and what I’m dealing with, child.

Well if you lost something or someone – I can help. If you came in here to show me your snotty attitude, I’ve seen it and don’t like it. Good day to you madam. Tripp stood and headed for the door.

Sally Anne cleared her throat, Jimmy, Gisela really needs your help. Her sister went missing about two months ago and the police can’t find her. She hasn’t turned up anywhere our kind hangs out and she hasn’t sent any message to Gisela. Not like her at all. They’ve always been close.

Sitting down Tripp stared at Sally Anne, I will try. But did you ever think maybe her sister is just tired of Lemon Lucy here and headed for happier company? I thought that this stuff didn’t run in families. Relatives that are wizards is rare, isn’t it?

Sally Anne nodded, Very rare. Only been several cases in recorded history and Gisela and Carmen are at the top of the list.

I’m sitting right here child. I can hear you, age hasn’t dimmed my hearing.

Stop calling me child. I might be younger than you, hell Moses might be younger than you, but either call me by name or leave.

Gisela turned slightly on her chair to stare at Tripp for several seconds before she nodded and stood up. Sorry. I tend to call everyone child. Bad habit, Carmen always told me to quit. Never have. I’ll. I’ll try to be – different.

Tripp glared at Gisela, Who’s Carmen, Gisela?

My sister. We do fortune telling out of rooms at the center in San Diego its in the Chesebro Mall. It’s kind of like the Droddy building but spread out more. Gisela sat back down on the edge of the wooden chair with her fingers just on the front edge of Tripp’s desk. Carmen is the front for our shop, but I do the readings. Imelda and I. . .I mean Sally Anne and I go way back to the time when Mr. Snow saved us from the traveling shows.

Jimmy took a deep breath then launched into his disclaimer that he gave all clients. At the end of the spiel Gisela tsked and said, Well of course I am tied to Carmen, you ch. . . Look can you find her or not?

I won’t know until it’s too late, Tripp laid his hands on the table palms up. Whenever you are ready, Gisela.

Gisela glared at Sally Anne then switched to glaring at Tripp, her hands were still folded on her lap. Shrugging Gisela shifted then grasped Tripp’s hands and closed her eyes.

Tripp jerked and partially stood up as he held Gisela’s hands. After several seconds he pulled his hands free, wiped at his face with both hands the sat down heavily. I have never had that happen before. Ah, sorry Gisela. Carmen is deceased. Her body is somewhere covered in sand.

I demand that you tell me where she is buried. Right now!

Tripp sat behind his desk shaking his head as he said softly, It doesn’t work that way. And you know it.

Sally Anne stood and helped Gisela stand, embracing Gisela Sally Anne changed back to Imelda Ravenscraft as she lead the silently weeping Gisela out of Tripp’s office. Glancing over her shoulder Imelda nodded to Tripp as the door closed on them.

Later, at his usual table in the Waffle Palace Tripp watched Sally Anne come in and head straight to her usual side of his table. Gisela is finally settled down. You need to work on your people skills, young man. You could have broken that to her easier. You didn’t have to be that way, it was her sister not a broken music box for god’s sake.

Tripp’s eyes widened, his mouth flapped several times before he got out, Ah, sorry. I . . . I guess. . . I guess that I could have been easier. I just don’t always know what’s coming out. I mean I’m still gripped by their vision of the person or object. I. . . I don’t really have control there. Sighing Tripp propped his elbows on the table and held his face.

Reaching across the table Sally Anne patted Tripp’s arm, Sorry Jimmie. She and her sister are just my oldest friends and I took it personal. Now that you mention it I guess you’re right. Never found a dead person for someone, so I don’t know what it’s like.

Lowering his hands from his face Tripp tried to smile at Sally Anne, "It’s very