Z-anon-sensei Speaks # 67

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“His Will at a phase of revolt from every intellectual summary, from all intellectual abstraction, this delight is not mere delight, he would construct a whole, but that whole must seem all event, all picture.” Yeats

The search of Xenon’s apartment at EkoLivin Village wasn’t helping much. The third floor apartment was furnished sparsely, and Radio felt that none of the furniture and decorations were Xenon’s, anyway, except for one thick, Persian-style rug in the living room which he sensed belonged to her.

It didn’t look like she had packed up to leave, even though there wasn’t much in the apartment. Half and half going sour in refrigerator. Toothbrush in a tumbler beside the bathroom sink. A bottle of body wash on the edge of the tub with the lid off. A couple of dishes and take-out containers (Chinese) sitting in the sink beginning to mold. No obvious clues, so Radio was reduced to dowsing the few possessions that might have significance to Xenon, see what he could pick up.

He was sitting cross-legged on that rug with the pile of stuff in front of him. There was a laptop— password locked; he’d get it to ^zetateam for decryption and analysis.There was a slinky-looking black dress, the only item of clothing in the apartment that wasn’t purely functional. There was a framed picture of a man, 50ish, who looked to be reciting from a book. A few earrings: mostly silver hoops or strings of colorful beads. One pair, though, were in the shape of a tiger’s head inside a circle of silver. Looking closely, Radio could see that the heads were slightly different, hand-cut rather than stamped from a mold. And finally, there was a yellowing envelope with four photographs in it. Head shots, sort of like grade school year book pictures, of four young girls. A bit tattered, no detail in the background. And that was all.

He closed his eyes and held his hand out, palm down, over the small pile on the floor. It looked corny, and he never did this in front of anyone, but it did help. Luckily, Adam, (which to Radio’s great relief was the given name of @anycanoewilldo, the livestreamer and now criminal accomplice Radio met at the protests) was waiting down the hallway at the top of the stairs, keeping watch in case the landlord showed up.

The tiger earrings had a strong aura, but not a romantic vibe like Radio expected. More like a class ring from a school. The photograph of the man reading was also not emotionally laden. And the black dress, surprisingly, had no sexual energy but something else entirely, an embedded nostalgia or memory of longing, maybe. It came to him that the dress wasn’t Xenon’s, so then whose? But the four pictures in the envelop had some real juju in them. Radio spread them out in front of him like tarot cards, and immediately he was buffeted by waves of feeling— love mingled with fear, shared laughter mixed with shared tears. Lots of worry. Lots of sadness. Radio found his own eyes clouding up, even while a smile touched the corners of his mouth. One of the pictures in particular, of a thin, tall-looking girl with long, straight red hair, seemed soaked with a feeling of connection and friendship– and of loss. Xenon must have known these girls, must have cared about them. Maybe something to work with here.

He stood up from his cross-legged posture, knees popping. He dropped the tiger earrings and the photographs into a large manila envelope, tucked the laptop under his arm, and headed out into the hallway, leaving the black dress in a silken pile in the middle of the carpet. Not much, but something to work on. The laptop might have some info, at least. He shook the envelope as he walked toward Adam, hearing the jingling of the earrings inside.

It was technically burglary, he figured, but as a PI he had a little leeway on that front. Evidence in a case, you know.

Nuff said.


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