by N. M. Brown
Taking a breath, McQueen focused on not saying ‘nothing’, and reading what was there; between the lines or more importantly, what was omitted. “It says: “Sad news of the recent passing… mourners aren’t welcome, … a private affair…-,”
“A family member…?” Hale speculated, adding more data into his screen. McQueen smiled as he saw what Hale was doing.
“Yes, private function with no mourners, which might mean an emotional state. The death of a family member would explain that.” Skimming further down the article, he cherry-picked a few more phrases and unique sentences relaying them to Hale. After a few more, one gave him pause which in turn made him find another. “It says here; “- for the righteous were taken from the evil of this world.’ And then later ‘-taken away in the mist of their early days’.”
“Something coming to mind McQueen?” Hale asked as the blonde fell silent.
“Well… it’s been an age since my Sunday School lessons, but they remind me of a few verses in the Bible. They both characterise early death.”
“Early?... So, someone young. That Ms. Headly, she was the families ward, correct? I’d place everyone else in that house a little too old to be in the mist of their early years, but she-… she would have been, what? Fifteen? Sixteen years old a decade ago?” Hale nodded an idea flying so fast through his head, he didn’t stop to explain it.
Continuing to type and scroll through his computer, McQueen did likewise with the article, trying to find anything else that could indicate the departed. He was so engrossed, that he had to do a double take when Hale spoke. “Nice catch McQueen. Who knew Sunday School would make you a half decent Detective?”
Flabbergasted by an actual compliment, McQueen attacked the article with renewed vigour. However, it turned out he needn’t have bothered. One solitary word, golden in its definition and brought joy too little old ladies everywhere sounded from Hales lips. “Bingo.”
✽ ✽ ✽
McQueen had enough moth-balls up his nose he could have started his own Halloween Shop and enough cobwebs he’d make any Goth jealous.
After getting a name, one that wasn’t easy to find in-of-its-self, and searching their database again, they hit… something. It had then been McQueen’s job to find out what.
“You seem to have been successful, Detective.” The sweet woman stated, as he dusted himself off beside her desk. The desk plate read ‘L. Moirai- File & Testimony Entrepot’ but when McQueen had approached, she’s told him calling her Kesslis would be just fine.
Tucked away in the basement of the station, with not enough room to swing a cat, the entrance of the file room had felt more like a fun maze, where the room gets smaller the further you walk into it. Nevertheless, Kesslis had been nothing but helpful.
Lovely long blonde hair was swept up in soft curls and her pale skin was unblemished. An airy silk blouse was done up to her neck and a long skirt swirled around her legs. McQueen wouldn’t have put her a day over thirty, if it wasn’t for the crow’s feet and laughter lines that showed she’d had a happy life so far. Middle-aged, that’s how his Nana had told him to put it politely. Still full of youth but brewing with wisdom. “Sometimes, I send a detective or two to find a file and they’re never heard from again.” She laughed.
“Now that doesn’t surprise me.” McQueen smiled back, meaning every word. It wasn’t disorganised in the file room, it was more hap-hazardous. Cramped and compact it seem to go on for miles and hadn’t seen a feather duster in years. “Well thank you for your help with this.” He waved the manila file in the air. It was chunky and had a giant ‘CLOSED’ stamped across the front. However, the name in tiny black letters held much more interest to him.
“You’re welcome Detective McQueen. Do come back anytime.” Kesslis smiled. McQueen gave a gentle wave goodbye, before heading for the exit to make his return. “You know, somehow, I knew you’d be the one.”
Stopping mid stride, McQueen frowned. There was an odd tone to her voice and when he looked back, he could have sworn Kesslis wore a sad smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “Pardon?”
Like a flick of a switch, Kesslis brightened, “I said I knew you’d be the one, to actually make it out of the file room alive.” She laughed, light and airy. “I practically have the fire department on speed dial to get most harden cops out of there.” Again, she laughed, and McQueen finally caught on that she was joking.
“A bunch of strong, strapping men on speed dial, hay? You must be very skilled to manage all of them?” McQueen teased, but like a fist to his gut, McQueen realised what he had said and what it might imply… “I mean-… I didn’t mean to say-, I…”
“Yes. It does take quite a lot of skill.” Kesslis answered not removing her eyes from her computer screen.
McQueen wanted to say more, apologise, but maybe if any misconceptions could go over her head, they could go over his too. “Good to know.” He smiled. “Thanks again.” And he quickly made his escape.
✽ ✽ ✽
“You found it?”
“Yes sir.” McQueen quick marched to his and Hales desk, dusty file in hand and slight skip in his step.
After a moment, Hale’s eyes grew wide with interest and grabbed the file between his two hands as McQueen passed it over. Opening it, he like McQueen was visibly disappointed it was mostly black ink. Lines and lines of it. McQueen had even stopped off at the photo-copier to see if it was the original file with ink over the top. At least that way they could have read it with squinted eyes and some choice light angles. But alas, it was a copy and there was no indication the originals were lying around somewhere. Someone really didn’t want whatever was in this file getting out.
“This is useless.” Hale ground his teeth, flicking past black page after black page. “There is nothing here.”
“Almost true,” McQueen began and grabbed the file back, flicking to the right page. “But this is interesting. It’s blacked out, but there are a few key points.” Placing the file down, McQueen read the print again, a smile growing on his lips as Hale saw it too.
‘The witness who came forward, Echo Headly, sister to our suspected serial killer, gave adequate descriptions of the killers modus operandiand a short list of victims, some previously unknown. Further questioning has brought to light the behaviour pattern of the killer, and his alias used to entre secure locations. The killer in question, Adin Headly, was perused at twenty-one thirty-five on the night of the seventieth of the month November. The suspect was shot and killed by a team of officers. This case is now deemed to be closed.’
Hale notably read it three times, allowing the words to wash over him. McQueen knew the format too; it was a closing statement of the case, nothing given more than the suspects name and that the case was closed. However, a dead murderer was of no interest to them. Adin Headly, the dead serial killer, had a sister who was involved in their current case murder cases. If there were one thing cops hated, it was a coincidence.
VI
The walls were an off green; not warm and sunny, or a pale mint, just an off colour. You might find the colour in the centre of some mouldy bread, or maybe on your Gran’s sun-bleached curtains. Echo had stared at them; bone tired and grumpy from being dragged from her bed and could positively say it was the ugliest colour she’d ever seen.
Trapped in the lifeless room, there was little else to look at. The steel table was bolted to the grubby, lino floor, as was the metal chair she sat on which both looked like they’d seen better days. There were no windows and one door. They couldn’t even afford a fancy two-way mirror, instead the well-lit room consisted of two wall lamps with harsh yellow light and a tripod, empty of a camera for now. Screwed in one corner was a security camera; chunky in design and caged behind a metal mesh. Echo gave it a little wave. The blinking red light was her only response.
Sunday morning - the only day the kooks got right: a day of rest - two very brave or very stupid officers pulled up to the House. Slamming a fist or two on the front door sent h
ollow vibrations all the way up to the roof which awoke Echo from her sleep. She’d debated ignoring the banging to see how long it took the glorified traffic patrolmen to give up, but she wasn’t alone in the house. No one else would get the door despite the fact none of them sleep.
Echo could say they were far too busy, but the truth was they didn’t deal with … mortals. They only lowered themselves to speak to the apes when they wanted to break a deal, break a Commandment or perhaps a femur or two. No, they wouldn’t even register that the door was banging, so if Echo didn’t answer and the police stormed the place, uninvited… Echo shuddered at the thought.
Archer would be breaking down the stock markets; building up Ponzi schemes while also processing the money taken in the House last night. None of it legal and all of it going into a very large, off shore depositary that was up in the tens-of-billions.
Samantha was no doubt either fucking herself, having someone else fuck her, or making two or more people fuck each other. None of it was illegal… if it was all consensual and if she remembered safe words. Then there was the blurring of the lines between the genders; again, not illegal… in some forward thinking, progressive countries. Samantha adored holidays to the more mediaeval places where narrow mindedness and bitter fear ruled cocks and vaginas alike with an iron fist. She spoke highly of many southern States as her go-to ‘spa retreat’, or where religion trumped humanitarian rights.
Gala would be eating, food would be fine; human carcases, not so much. Twilight would probably be ok, unless she did well last night, like most nights and someone had sold their soul for a new face. Twi always kept the discarded ones, so freshly dripping blood down the walls wouldn’t look too good. Of course, Mara’s room would be fine, a typical looking gym if you’d ever seen one… just as long as no one brought in a black light… or cadaver dogs… or a splatter analysis.
In fact, the only two rooms that would be beyond reproach belonged to Nic and Bris. Nic would be asleep among pillows and blankets, with his strange collection of newspaper clippings that had no relevance what-so-ever. And as for Bris, well she hadn’t been home in years, so her room was like that of a dead child’s; un-touched, undisturbed and felt like a gaping hole in the family.
As such, it was Echo's job, half asleep, to walk down the three flights of cold stairs to answer the door. The only pleasure from the experience was that Wilson had followed, equally pissed at being woken from his cat nap. Once the door was open but an inch, he ripped ribbons into the two officer’s trousers causing a pleasant commotion.
“Ms. Headly.” One spat through gritted teeth once Wilson had scampered away into the over growing bushes, no doubt to catch his morning snack. “You’re wanted at the station for some questions. You are to… uh-, to come with us-ss…”
However, after the initial shock of having their ankles attacked, both men, who were indeed young and attractive, swallowed hard as they took in her sleeping attire. The chilling air swept up her legs under her sleeping tee making her nipples peek and left nothing to the imagination. With rough sex hair, and the tee slipping off one shoulder, Echo made sure to lounge alluringly against the outer door.
“Like… now?” She asked through a yawn, fluttering her eyelashes. Both men were in their mid-years, over thirty but still in somewhat good shape. Black shirts with black fitted jackets over the top gave them the whiff of authority, while the shiny badge and stripes on each of their shoulders gave the distinction of lawmen. They were unarmed, which always knocked some of the fun out of an evening, but the shiny batons could be used for so much…
“Y-… yes Ms. Headly. Please.” The other stammered while his eyes stayed glued to her legs, though he still remembered what his Mamma taught him and was polite about it. In fact, it got Echo thinking; mind churning, evil plots forming.
“Oh,” Echo gasped in mock surprise, “Manners from an officer. What a lovely change.” She made sure to twist her body and face the second officer directly. Worming your way into someone’s mind was all about body language. “And what’s your name, Officer…?”
“Fort.” He stammered, tipping his hat like a gentleman.
“And I’m Officer Reed.” The other interjected, puffing his chest out like a grumpy gorilla. “Now, if you would be so kind-,”
“Officer, hum.” Echo mused, “Only officers?” She frowned dramatically with a pout. “I can hardly believe such hard working, dedicated, not to mention polite Officers as yourselves are only the rank of officer.” Echo, despite the chilly air, stepped forward and caressed one long finger down the Officer’s lapel. “When other arrogant, self-serving higher men dare call themselves Detectives?” Echo smiled coyly. “Now that doesn’t seem right? Does it?”
Fort’s throat bobbed, and he fidgeted with the end of his uniform. “Well, I wouldn’t-… I wouldn’t say that, exactly.” He bubbled.
“You wouldn’t?” Echo heard his doubt though. She wondered how many times he’d been passed over for a promotion. An Officer of his age, there was no doubt it had happened a few times. “Again, a show of restraint and poise.” She sighed with a smile, “I’m sure the pushy, boisterous Officer’s above you do none of that. I guess that’s what separates you from the crowd.”
“Uh, right.” Fort stammered, confused. As the seconds ticked by, Echo could see the wheels turn as he began to wonder if his soft heart was why he was stuck where he was. Poor little duck, Echo laughed to herself. Plant a simple seed and watch the envy cloud his eyes: bitter towards those with youth and strength, with charm and whit. Let him envy all those who out sprinted him in his dying hours. Echo could envision the hostile old man he would become.
“Enough, Fort,” His partner snapped. Fort jumped and rolled his shoulders back, but there was a twitch to his mouth, a grimace, that said his train of thought wasn’t over. “Ms. Headly. This isn’t a request. We are to escort you to the station.” Officer Reed snapped again.
Echo took in her second unknowing victim. He had a barrel chest and a growing beer gut to match, but when Echo looked into his eyes, she didn’t see the soft-hearted nature of his partner. No, this was a man who scorned the authorities above him already. He was already bitter and sullen. “You mentioned that.” She said with a sad smile, “But I really don’t want to. Perhaps the two of you could grab yourself a nice coffee and come back in an hour or two?”
Officer Reed snorted and gripped her upper arm, “Not likely.” He growled, pulling her down the marble steps. She made sure to stumble like he’d tripped her, which got the attention of old, concerned Officer Fort.
“Hay now Reed. Steady.” His partner chastised, even going to reach out his arms and catch her if she really did fall.
“Ah, buckle it Fort.” Was Reed’s reply and Echo was promptly pushed into the back seat of a patrol car they’d parked out front. Now if Officer Reed was worth his shiny badge, he’d realize that as she was an unwilling witness or could potentially be a suspect and he should have locked the doors. Clearly, he wasn’t bright enough to be promoted. Instead, he’d spun round and was barking at Fort like he knew better. It wasn’t until Echo started to walk back up the front steps did he even notice she’d exited the car. “Hay!” He cried after her, having to jog to catch up.
Because Echo had no real intention of doing a runner, far more trouble than it was worth, she leisurely turned back round to face the panting Officer. “Yes?”
“You’re meant to be in the car.” Reed spat. Yes, Echo was sure there was little-to-no brain activity in his skull.
“Yes. That is where you put me. But seeing as I’d much rather be in bed, I elected to not stay seated there.” With a smiled she turned to walk away again, but promptly found herself lifted off the ground and bouncing her nose off a cheap nylon, black covered ass as she was thrown over a shoulder. “Oi!” She cried out in surprise. “You can’t man handle me! Put me down!” she screamed kicking wildly, twisting over and over to get free. It didn’t matter to her that she was flashing the House, the Grounds a
nd poor Officer Fort. No one forced her to do anything.
“You are wanted at the station Ms. Headly and it’s my job to get you there.” With a mocking bow after he’d placed her down, Officer Reed corralled her back into the car; pushing and shoving her not at all concerned if she bumped her head or smashed a knee.
After that, both officers quickly sat in the front, though it was Fort who turned around to apologies. “That’s kind of you to say.” Echo answered, not forgetting to tend to her garden. “It’s polite for you to care. Unlike your partner; what a brute of a man.” She said, knowing full well he could hear her, “Naturally he must think he’s going somewhere; to better and brighter places if he thinks he can treat someone like that.”
With a snarl in the rear-view mirror, Reed didn’t say anything, and Fort gave his partner a confused, contemplating look. Echo smiled in the back as she was escorted across town, passing the old cottages and through the tiny streets.
A few choice words here, an example there and poor, sweet Officer Fort would question every action, every word, and every choice. The fickle, human mind was so easy to turn green with envy.