The Secret of Zormna Clendar by Julie Steimle (best ereader for pdf TXT) 📕

lowest level. But the two agents in black suits that came to the front door of McLenna home today were a little higher up the ladder. They knocked politely before ringing the doorbell. They had their badges ready.

Mindy McLenna, the bushy-haired female minor, answered the door.

“Hello?” She held the doorknob as she leaned against the doorframe, keeping the front screen still between them—something the McLenna parents had made the children practice, just in case. The McLennas were notably cautious.

With business-like smiles, the agents said to the ten-year-old girl, “Is your mommy or daddy here?”

Mindy nodded and turned from the door, yelling from the top of her lungs: “Mom!  Someone’s at the door for you!”

Wiping her hands on a dishrag, Mrs. McLenna’s grumbles replied, “For heaven’s sake, Mindy, come and get me. Don’t yell.”

The mother then looked up at the men. She took an indrawn breath. Her eyes inspected their dark suits. She immediately sent Mindy out of the room and put herself more squarely in the doorway. “May I help you?”

The men flipped open their wallets to show her their IDs. “FBI. I’m Agent Simms, and this is Agent Hayworth. May we come in?”

Mrs. McLenna glanced critically over the IDs and then up at the men’s faces. “What is this about?”

Agent Simms smiled genially as he said, “We have business concerning your new house guest, Zormna Clendar.”

A faint cringe passed through Mrs. McLenna. Yet the woman nodded reluctantly and opened the door to let the men in. She watched them apprehensively while escorting them to the close, pristine seats in the crisp, clean front room. They glanced lightly at the family pictures on the far wall, the curio cabinet in the corner, antiques from the Old World set about the room, and the stiff but handsomely upholstered furniture.

Sitting down in one of the opposite chairs, Mrs. McLenna crossed her ankles, cradling her dishrag in hands on her lap. “What is wrong? Is she in trouble?”

Both agents regarded Mrs. McLenna gravely. It was important to impress upon her the importance of their visit for the proper result.

Agent Hayworth asked, “What do you know about Zormna Clendar?”

Pale, the mother replied, “V…v…very little.” She glanced from one man to the other then back. “She came to us about two months ago and needed a place to stay. We let her stay here, since she was all alone.”

Agent Hayworth nodded, taking notes in a palm-sized book. “Two months? Hmm. And did she tell you about her relative in town?”

“Her great aunt? The crazy lady that used to live on Hayes Street? Yes. She told us the moment she got here. She was seeking directions at the time. She told us that she was planning to stay with her.” Mrs. McLenna wrung her dishcloth in her fingers.

“And she has said nothing else?” Agent Hayworth asked, lifting his eyes from his notepad.

Mrs. McLenna shook her head. “Not much else. She inherited her aunt’s house and some money, but nothing else came up. Why? Is she in trouble? This doesn’t have to do with her fighting in school, does it?” 

“Fighting in school?” Agent Hayworth said, looking up. “When was this?”

Mrs. McLenna flushed and wrung her towel more. “Uh, several weeks ago. The boy wasn’t really hurt. But it was startling because looking at her you wouldn’t suspect such a strong child—though a strong will perhaps. She never was keen on the idea of going to school, and she argues something awful at times, and sulks a lot but….” She flushed redder. “I don’t think she is a problem child. She is an orphan, but that doesn’t mean anything. But those military school children can really be tightly wired and…and….” She had wrung her towel around several times as she watched the two men uncomfortably. “She really isn’t in trouble is she?”

Agent Hayworth scribbled furiously in his notebook, but Agent Simms found her rambling amusing.

He said, leaning forward, “Mrs. McLenna, Zormna is not in trouble. But I’m afraid that the death of her relative—Ms. Asiah Clendar—was not accidental. We also believe Zormna’s presence in Pennington is not a coincidence. She just might give us clues to her great aunt’s killer. May we please speak with her?”

The mother heaved up a breath, nodded and stood. “Of course.”

Mrs. McLenna guided them out of the front room to the stairs, leading them up. They passed the two high-school aged minors who were sitting in the dining room: the older boy and his sister—the ones who spent the most time with the subject. The girl, Jennifer, peered narrowly after them, lips pressed together like someone full of information, yet emotionally conflicted. She was a possible witness, if handled right. But the boy, Todd, watched them as if looking to see if they were carrying guns. The other minor, Andrew, poked his head out from a room, eyes widening when he saw them come up the stairs. Mindy had followed at a distance.

Mrs. McLenna knocked lightly on a tall cupboard door, blushing uneasily as she did. Then she pushed the door open. Exposing a homey, yet snug room, they stepped in. They found Zormna lying on her stomach on a bed studying a section in an encyclopedia. Agent Simms peered down at it. Pictures and descriptions of Morocco filled the pages.

Mrs. McLenna apologetically nodded to the pale and tiny fire-haired female as she led the men in. “I’m sorry, but these are two government agents who have come to see you.”

Zormna leaned up, blinking those exotic green eyes at them with honest surprise. Surprise at what, they weren’t sure.

She rolled off her stomach, closing the book before putting it on the nightstand at the end of her bed. Both agents stared at her for a few seconds. Honestly, she took their breath away. The other agents weren’t kidding. She was something to look at.

But Agent Simms regained his composure, opening up his badge. “I’m Agent Simms. This is Agent Hayworth. We have come to ask you a few questions that may aid us in an important investigation.”

Agent Hayworth lifted from under his arm a leather zipper-file. He opened it and extracted photocopied document after photocopied document. He set them onto the cedar chest and bed, observing the girl’s reaction—just as the supervisor had instructed. The first document was a photocopy of Zormna’s Irish passport. Next, her birth certificate, visa, and copies of Pennington High school records. Lastly he put out her great aunt’s will. Zormna’s eyes darkened on each document. But Mrs. McLenna’s eyes grew wide as she watched them retrieve each piece of paper from the folder.

“I am sure you have been wondering why we have been watching you,” Agent Hayworth said, setting the final document out onto the bed. “To be frank, we didn’t expect to see a relative of Asiah Clendar show up in Pennington. So we need to validate your identity before we begin.”

Zormna lifted her gaze to his face, a quiver full of sharp calculation behind those eyes. “You think I’m a fraud?”

A fraction of a smirk turned up the corner of the FBI agent’s mouth. Snarky, wasn’t she? “I’m afraid scams and cons are rampant these days. But this is merely paperwork…as I can see for myself you are clearly her blood relative.”

The girl huffed, glancing briefly ceiling-ward. She certainly behaved like a teenager. Now to verify. One could never tell with certain people.

“Ok, just for the record, please state your full name and age.” Agent Hayworth looked down to his notebook, resting the pen tip to the page.

The girl flinched. Yet she then exhaled and closed her eyes, reciting, “Zormna Clendar. I am fourteen years old. And my blood type is O positive—in case you need that too.”

Agent Hayworth jotted it down, his eyes peeking up at the last bit.

Zormna glanced at the page and then at the man. Her eyes flickered also at his coat and the way it hung on him, especially about the pockets. Inquisitive, observant, and this was going to be tricky.

“Fourteen, did you say?” Agent Simms asked, glancing once at the photocopy of her passport. “According to this you are sixteen.”

He held it up for her to see.

“Misprint,” she replied, not even giving it a peek. “I look older than my age. But I’m only fourteen.” Zormna folded her legs on her bed. A sour frown had settled on her face along with a defensive attitude.

Mrs. McLenna, however, opened her mouth briefly in ill-masked surprise. She closed it, quickly attempting to hide her flushed cheeks by forcing a more concerned expression onto her face. It was likely Zormna would get a talking-to once they were done.

“Ok, what is the name of that military school you say you went to?” Agent Hayworth continued, lifting up his pen. “We can confirm your identity with them.”

“I can’t recall.” Zormna then frowned, as if this fact was an insult.

“What do you call it when explaining it to other people?” Hayworth asked.

Zormna scowled. “We just called it the Patrol. Ok? But that’s not the name of the place. Just a nickname.”

He waited patiently.

But Zormna glared at him. “Roach. I don’t know it, ok? I came there when I was very young. I never had to explain it to anyone before.” Folding her arms, she added snottily, “And I don’t have their address so there is no way for you to contact them anyway.”

Agent Simms frowned. Heaving a sigh, he nodded for Agent Hayworth to continue the questions.

“Fine, whatever.” Agent Hayworth resumed, “Why did you come here to the United States?”

Zormna glared as she answered, “To live with my great aunt.”

“Where are your parents?” Agent Hayworth asked, focusing on his notes.

“They’re dead.” Zormna leaned back on her bed with a dry gaze.

“They’re what?” He lifted his eyes from the page, not sure he heard her right.

“Dead. I am an orphan. The military school was an orphanage.” Zormna unfolded her legs and stood up to stretch. They watched her cross the room, her movements graceful in a militaristic way. The rumored phrase ‘like-a-ninja’ echoed in their heads, as they had recorded a heap of rumors about her since following the girl. Except she started pacing. The question had agitated her. Something to note.

Mrs. McLenna whispered to them, “I thought I told you—”

“How long have you been an orphan?” Hayworth asked, seriously listening to each sound Zormna made as she restlessly went to the bookshelf and fingered the edges of the texts there. Definitely, they had touched a nerve.

Zormna glanced over her shoulder at them. Almost glowering, she walked back to the bed and sat down. “I was five when my parents were killed.”

Mrs. McLenna folded her arms. The agents took notes.

“Killed? How did they die?” Agent Hayworth asked.

Zormna glared at them with increased distaste. “People broke into our apartment and shot them.”

That was a cause for pause. It wasn’t so much the news, as they had heard the rumor. But it was how she said it, like she was accusing them, yet not.

Agent Simms came nearer to Zormna, considering her closely. “Do you know who killed them?”

Zormna stood up, her cheeks flushing. “No. I didn’t see it happen.”

But that was a lie. Agent Simms could tell from how she averted her eyes, first to the floor, then to the ceiling and wall beyond as she shifted her feet. Her lips had gone as pale as her cheeks. She knew who had killed them, though maybe she had not seen it happen.

“Do you have any other living relatives?” Agent Hayworth asked the next question on the list.

Zormna shook her head with a glare. “Do you think I’d be here if I did?”

The truth, that one. It was too petulant. Something she resented. But it also ended the trail they were hoping to follow.

Agent Simms pursed his lips and nodded once. He took a step closer to her for more private talk, trying to be friendly. But Zormna retreated with a jerk, almost backing into the attic wall. She quickly ducked behind Mrs. McLenna.

Stopping where he was, he said, “Zormna,