The Secret of Zormna Clendar - Julie Steimle (best autobiographies to read .txt) 📗

peculiar hobbies. One of which entailed, how can I put it? Dabbling in unusual electronics. Basically, the FBI had gotten reports that a possible drug house was in the neighborhood and they came to investigate.”

“Drug house?” Zormna stared at him as if he had just hit her with the chair

He nodded, “You know, where people manufacture drugs. Illegal narcotics. Some of the signs are usually ill-kept houses and yards, and, well, extreme high tech security systems.”

“I see.” Zormna waved her hand for him to continue. “And when they found out she was not doing that kind of thing, what then?”

He nodded. “Well, you can imagine their reaction to her, uh, believed identity as a visitor from another planet. And they would have blown it off. But when they discovered she had in fact made a satellite dish that could be used to contact aliens in space, well…they took her to the Pennington Sanitarium to be evaluated.”

“Evaluated?” Zormna stared more.

Nodding, he averted his eyes so that he would not meet Zormna’s piercing glare. “Yes. They had to find out if she was a danger to herself or the community. At least, that is what they told me when I asked.”

“And?” Zormna was scowling.

He sighed with a shrug. “And nothing. They found her to be harmless.”

“Only,” Jennifer cut in, “she ended up dead a week later on what looked like a drug overdose.”

Zormna turned darkly, angling her head toward Jennifer.

“She would never do that,” both Zormna and Mr. Earnhardt snapped.

They quickly shared a look, expressions lightening.

Jennifer shrugged, holding up her hands in surrender. “That was the rumor though.”

“She didn’t believe in using drugs, even the over-the-counter kind,” Mr. Earnhardt said.

“So it was murder,” Zormna murmured.

He sighed. “I couldn’t tell you. All I know is that the kid next door discovered her upstairs in one of the rooms, dead, with a rubber tie around her arm, and a puncture in her skin. A syringe lay next to her, empty. And there was heroin in her blood stream.”

“Kid next door?” Zormna frowned.

“Darren Asher,” Jennifer supplied. “The space-crazed nut boy from Pluto.”

Zormna blinked at her. “The what?”

Snorting, Jennifer unfolded her arms. “He’s a sophomore like me. You’ll see him soon enough. Tall geeky kid who watches too many movies about aliens. He actually believes in the stuff. The dork ate up everything your great aunt told him.”

Zormna stared more. “The things my great aunt told him? You mean the Mars stuff?”

“I know.” Jennifer nodded. “Seriously psycho.”

But Mr. Earnhardt shrugged. “Eh. He’s just some harmless kid who helped her out on the weekends. I think he was just humoring her.”

Picturing Darren, Jennifer shook her head vigorously. “Oh no. He believed her. Aliens are all he talks about.”

The lawyer still shook it off, looking back to Zormna. “Anyway, I can’t say much more than that. If you want more information, you will have to get it from that boy.”

Zormna nodded to herself as if making a mental note to do so.

But Jennifer shook her head, knowing that would be was a big mistake. Everyone with sense avoided Darren Asher.

With the end of that topic, Mr. Earnhardt hitched on his cheerful grin again and rose from his seat. Apparently he wasn’t one to linger on serious subjects—at least not those that didn’t involve money. But Jennifer could see it still troubled Zormna. Zormna stared at the ground with disgust. But since there wasn’t much of anything they could do about it, Zormna rose also.

“Now,” the man said, smoothing down the front of his tweed coat, “It is my duty to inform you that you are your great aunt’s sole heir. She did have one stipulation. Firstly, you have to show me one of two things. One happens to involve shoulders.”

Jennifer peered at him quizzically. Shoulders?

But Zormna closed her eyes, restraining a shudder. “And the second thing?”

He sighed. “Well, the second thing is that you need to open a safe for me.”

“A safe.” Zormna lifted her head. “Is that where my documents will be?”

Shrugging gently, Mr. Earnhardt replied, “I don’t know. Personally I thought the FBI had cleared everything out, including her safety deposit box. Their investigation was particularly thorough. They might even show up at your home not in the far future. I hear word that they check in from time to time, since they never caught the killer.”

The FBI, showing up at her house? Jennifer peeked once at Zormna. The blonde’s brows knit together. Disquiet tightened her bow-shaped mouth into a knot. It definitely was cringe-worthy. Her parents would not be pleased with those kinds of people prowling around. Then again (and it was with a sigh when Jennifer realized this) they probably expected it. People like her parents were too careful.

“Let us open the safe first,” Zormna said, rising from her chair.

Nodding, the man led onward.

They went upstairs. Mr. Earnhardt guided them the entire way to the last room on the left. Another door stood on the right, as well as the stair to the turret. But the door on the left opened into a home office. Everything was covered in dust here too, from the swivel chair to the bookshelves and desk.

The safe was not behind a painting. It sat heavily in the corner of the business-dedicated room with a dead potted plant resting on top of it. The safe looked thick, formidable, and yet no larger than one of those mini refrigerators. Mr. Earnhardt gestured at it with a shrug. “She scraped off all the numbers and put that bizarre ‘Martian’ writing on it. But she said you’d be able to hack into it without any problem.”

Zormna nodded to him then squatted down on the dusty carpet in front of the safe. Fingering the dial curiously, she turned it a couple times just to get the feel of the thing. Jennifer peered over Zormna’s shoulder, waiting for another miracle from Miss Perfect. The writing was nothing she recognized. Bizarre, certainly. Like little Chinese characters, yet not. There definitely was a sequence, though. The addition of a line to each pictograph counted upward, clockwise.

“Which direction do I go first?” Zormna asked.

Chuckling, Jennifer said, “To the right. It’s just like any old combination lock.”

“And how many combinations?” Zormna asked. Her eyes fixed on the knob.

Rolling her eyes, Jennifer said, “Start with three.”

Mr. Earnhardt leaned back, frowning while he watched both of them.

Shrugging with a here-goes-nothing sigh, Zormna twiddled out a combination then pulled on the handle. The door immediately popped open.

“I knew it.” Mr. Earnhardt flushed with delight.

Jennifer huffed. Of course. Perfect on the first try. It was disgusting.

Inside the small thick-walled container lay a pile of manila folders. Jennifer half expected to see stacks of cash. Or some kind of alien bomb—though that was just her crazy imagination running away with her. Zormna methodically extracted each folder, opening them one at a time to inspect the contents. And one by one she stacked them on the corner of the desk, shoving them towards Mr. Earnhardt. When the short stack was complete, she sighed and rose onto her feet again.

“Not what I am looking for,” she said.

The man, however, picked the folders up and flipped through them. Chucking, he set them aside on the desk then shrugged. “Maybe the FBI confiscated what you are looking for.”

Nodding, Zormna gestured to the folders. “Do you need these?”

He shook his head. “No. They’re just old orders for her online business. You can shred them if you want.”

But Zormna simply picked them up and tucked them back into the safe, shutting the door. She turned toward the lawyer again. Her cheeks had colored faintly with a peek towards Jennifer. “So, the other thing…”

He nodded and gestured to Zormna’s right shoulder.

Zormna flinched. The girl cast Jennifer another wary look. Then, without any pretense, Zormna turned and said directly, “I need you to step out of the room for a moment.”

“Why?” Jennifer protested.

Averting her eyes to the side, Zormna said, “This is something private.”

“I can keep a secret.” Jennifer looked to the lawyer, nodding.

Shaking her head, Zormna looked to the ceiling. “All the same. I sincerely need you to step out of the room.”

Groaning petulantly, Jennifer tromped past the desk and the bookshelves, most of which contained books on crafting hats and cute handbags. Then she stomped out the door.

Mr. Earnhardt gently closed it.

Swiftly, Jennifer slipped back to the door, leaning her ear next to it. Holding her breath, she took careful notice of all things that were said.

“I don’t need to touch it,” the lawyer said. “She just said you had to show me the mark.”

“Fine. Definitely no touching.”

Then nothing but silence followed. It felt like forever. What was he doing? What was he allowed to see, but not touch? Something about shoulders. Or her right shoulder. Some kind of strawberry mark?

Finally, Jennifer heard Mr. Earnhardt sigh. “Alright. That’s enough. I am satisfied.”

Jennifer heard feet move. She quickly jumped away from the door and leaned on the opposite wall. She folded her arms in a would-be-casual posture and tried to look annoyed, which wasn’t hard. Honestly, what was the big deal? She could keep a secret.

Zormna’s face was entirely flushed when she stepped from the room. She could hardly meet Jennifer’s eyes.

But Mr. Earnhardt grinned.

“Well, now that is settled, we can set up a time to complete the paperwork. You will inherit this house, and I do believe a hefty sum of money laid aside by your great aunt.”

Nodding, Zormna finally lifted her eyes to Jennifer. “Would you mind letting me stay a few more days with your family until this is all settled?”

But Jennifer looked over to the lawyer. “She can’t legally move into this place by herself, can she?”

The lawyer shrugged. Then he thought more on that as the reality of Zormna’s age sank in. He shook his head. “Ah. That’s a good point. You would have to stay with a legal guardian until you are eighteen, unless you become legally emancipated.”

“I have no legal guardian,” Zormna replied in exasperation. “So how can this apply to me?”

He cringed. He could see all the complications rising up like thorns in his plans. Because Zormna had behaved herself so seriously, he had easily forgotten that she was still, for all practical purposes, a child.

“I’m afraid, because you have no family, you would be put into the foster system. Though, and I am sorry to say this, being a foreigner you may end up getting deported to the Irish authorities.” Already he could see the money from his finder’s feel slipping away. Apparently it only counted if Zormna stayed in the US.

“Unless…” Jennifer cut in, “…my parents can be named as your legal guardians.”

Zormna paled, looking at her. “You mean I have to have a legal guardian?”

Jennifer and the lawyer nodded.

“If you can’t find your documents,” Jennifer said, “Then you need my folks to make things right.”

Nodding slowly, Zormna leaned against the banister. “I see.”

But Mr. Earnhardt cast a puzzled look at Jennifer. “To get started, I think all I need to see is her passport. A photocopy will suffice.”

Jennifer and Zormna shared a quick look. The girl had said she had no documents. That had to include a passport.

“It’s not with us,” Jennifer said, covering for the girl. “We’ll have to go back to my place to get it.”

The lawyer shrugged. “Ok. I need to get the files organized anyway.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a business card. He handed it to Zormna. “Call me on Monday and set up a meeting. We can get this thing taken care of, and,” his eyes glittered with the prospect of legal fees, “maybe we can even set up for you to get that legal emancipation, when you are ready.”

He ushered them to the front door. Mr. Earnhardt locked it once they were outside, keeping the key.

The man had a skip in his step as he went to his car. Jennifer watched, shaking her head as he drove off. She looked back to Zormna.

To her dismay, the girl had sat down