by Gareth Lewis
'ID seems to check out. Lawrence Bradley. Small sheet. Would you like to guess who's among his known acquaintances?'
'Someone whose name I'm not sure I'm even allowed to say without written permission from IA?'
Jake cocks his finger at me and fires. 'Guess we're wasting our time here then.'
I stare at the offending hand. 'Gloves.'
'I haven't touched anything.'
'You want to risk contaminating a crime scene IA'll be looking hard at?'
He sighs. 'So we should probably leave.'
'As soon as someone arrives to take over the scene,' I say.
He rolls his eyes, and pulls out gloves. 'What do you think happened?'
'My years of experience, and of paying attention to Doctor Carver, lead me to believe he may have been shot.'
'Wow,' says Jake. 'Are you a detective or something?'
'Or something seems to be the general consensus.'
'Probably not the same person who killed Mortimer.'
'Only the location links them,' I say. 'And I killed someone here between them.'
'Where were you before I picked you up?' asks Jake.
'Asleep.'
'I miss asleep.'
'You look like you've missed it.' And its catching up to him, with plenty of momentum behind it. 'It'd be easier to get the drop on a cultist than a hardened criminal. I assume he's armed.'
Jake leans in and lifts his jacket enough to be sure. 'Yep.'
'What could draw him here in the middle of the night? Yet he's not so suspicious that he can't get killed with what looks like little trouble. No signs of a struggle, and he obviously didn't have time to draw his gun.'
'Stone? Am I allowed to say his name without written permission?'
'Why would he want to drop a body here?' I ask. 'It'll just continue our attention on him. And this place.' I frown at the scene, not happy with where my thoughts are going.
'What?' asks Jake.
'Why do I think Carlisle had something to do with the demon going walkabout?'
'Because you're suspicious of everyone. But to actually control the demon in some way...?'
'Maybe it's just more reassuring than that it's started wandering of its own volition. And if anyone can, it'll be someone who had the tech to capture souls years ago. And has had the chance and resources to work on the stuff since then.'
Jake starts to speak. Then he closes his mouth. He tries again. 'Okay, since we're well beyond the border of the rational, I'll grant that if someone could do that, he looks like the prime suspect. And having a body drop here just before it goes walkabout does seem a coincidence.'
'Which leaves us with the problem of how they got him here, and got the drop on him. Is there a link between this guy's boss and Carlisle?'
'Nothing that's shown up in my research. What I'm allowed to do.'
'It doesn't work anyway.' And is frustrating. Like so much of this case. 'Stone would hardly sacrifice one of his guys lightly. And killing him without Stone's permission risks starting a war.'
'This is all based on you thinking someone pulled the demon out, isn't it,' says Jake.
I nod.
'Based on what Marcy told you. Can we be sure she knows all the rules? Or that she's sharing them all?'
'No,' I have to admit. 'We can't be sure she isn't also batshit crazy, like everyone else involved in this seems to be.'
'Which I suppose includes us.'
'Wouldn't surprise me.'
'So does any of this get us anywhere?' asks Jake.
I have no idea. 'Deeper in the quagmire. But I still think that if the demon's walkabout isn't natural, Carlisle is the most likely candidate.'
Jake frowns a moment before nodding. 'He'd have the resources.' He nods at the body. 'And I suppose this kind are open to being bought off. Of course, IA might know if Carlisle has been in contact with Stone. Doubt they'd be willing to share though.'
'No. And if they do, they'd also stop us looking at Carlisle. So I guess we'll have to focus our attentions on him. If we happen to find a link, it's not as though we're going looking for it.'
'Of course not.'
'That can wait till the morning though,' I say. 'And we may as well learn what we can here before we're shut out.'
Which I doubt will be much, but it's something to do. It's not as though I'm likely to find much sleep tonight anyway.
25
It's nearly half past nine the next morning before the new case is officially taken from us. We'd been sidelined far earlier, of course. But they probably enjoyed keeping us hanging around.
Now it's official, as we slouch at our desks and watch the organised crime guys leave the captain's office. They don't look too happy to have another case clogging up their stats, but it's not as though any of us have a say in the matter.
The only upside is one fewer open murder on our stats. Unless we happen to solve it alongside our case, which could complicate the stats. You have to look on the bright side though. Or so I've been told. Usually by people I want to hit.
'How soon you think before they try reassigning the Mortimer case?' asks Jake.
'Probably been discussed.' A part of me expected something to have come up already. 'Problem is, who do they dump it on. No direct links to Stone, so OC won't want it. At the moment, it's probably seen as being as radioactive as the victims aren't. It'd have to stay in homicide, and the captain won't want any other detectives getting contaminated. So for now it'll stay with us, and be closely monitored.'
Jake shrugs, apparently unconcerned one way or the other. And finally showing some signs of tiredness.
Captain Walters stalks over as soon as the OC guys are out of sight. 'Thank you so much for this stinking pile of political uranium.'
'Anything to make your day interesting, Captain.'
'We're not making any friends in OC with this.' She puts her hands on the end of my desk and leans forward, also looking tired.
'We still on the Mortimer case?' I ask. Not that I expect it to be taken away.
She stares at me a while. 'Do you want it reassigned?'
'No.'
'Good. As long as you get somewhere with it.' The end of the stat period is looming, which always makes her tetchy. Given I'm usually good with stats, she'd probably rather have me work cases less likely to get bogged down into the next period. 'Where are you with it?'
'We've got lots of links to OC cases.'
She doesn't quite glare, but isn't far off. 'Mainly coincidental.'
'Probably. Without running them, we can't know. And they may not be high priority for OC.'
She sighs in agreement. 'Just stick to the Mortimer case.'
'What about Freddy?'
'Who?' she asks.
'The homeless guy who died last night.'
'That might be pushed. Carver called. He's officially ruling it cardiac arrest. Natural causes.'
Nothing natural caused that. 'And unofficially?'
'He also detected more extensive cerebral damage of the kind found on other victims at the hotel. This time possibly perimortem. According to him, and I quote, "I'm not saying he died in agony as his brain was liquefied like a frog in a blender. But I'm not saying he didn't."'
Because Freddy was alive when it started at him? Any solid ground I find in this case keeps shifting under me.
'Do I need to be worried about some kind of contagion that's spread from the hotel?' she asks.
'I wish I knew.' How to explain the truth. I don't think it'll be seriously contagious. But I don't know enough to be sure myself, let alone convince others. 'Do we know anything on the new vic?'
She stares a while before reluctantly responding. 'Similar damage. Post-mortem, this time.'
'Yet they're not being treated as the same case.'
'Not at the moment. There have been suggestions of a task force. But no one wants to get saddled with it. So unless you happen to stumble across additional information, and maybe the killer,' - because we've got t
o think of the stats - 'You stick with Mortimer. What leads do you have left?'
'Pretty much just Carlisle. He owns Tempusonics. Has his own cult. Mortimer worked for him, may have been a cult member, and may have been spying for said cult on Lyons/Madame Anastasia, a former colleague of Carlisle.'
'Any idea why he had her spying on Lyons?' asks Walters.
'No,' ...way I'm telling you my suspicions.
'You want to bring him in?'
I've considered it. And it may become necessary. But most of the things we need to discuss I don't want recorded. 'Not yet. I want to take another run at him informally, before he's inclined to lawyer up.'
The captain frowns, still looking suspicious of me. But, ultimately, she has even fewer options here than we do. 'Fine. But find something.'
I intend to. I just doubt it'll be anything that can help with a conviction.
26
Carlisle seems to have spent most of his time at his hotel since arriving here. While the hotel staff aren't exactly happy talking to us about someone in one of their expensive suites, I can be persuasive. Okay, intimidating.
Presumably he considers it a more secure base to work on whatever he's here for than his company's offices. Or maybe just more comfortable. He doesn't strike me as one of the austere cult leaders. At least he spreads it around, placing his followers in similarly expensive suites nearby. Though that may be more for protection. And so they're not all sharing his one-bed suite. Officially.
We don't announce ourselves, and I trust I've impressed upon the staff that I don't want them announcing us either.
'Try keeping your cool this time,' I say in the elevator up.
Jake gives me a confused look. 'What? I'm cool.'
'Like last time?'
'What was wrong with last time.'
'You got aggressive,' I say. 'Nearly had him lawyer up.'
He shrugs it off. 'He was being evasive.'
'He was talking. There was a chance he could have let slip something useful. There still is. So please let me do the talking this time.'
'Fine,' he says, glaring away in irritation.
Not sure I can rely on that, but I don't want to cut him out. I still need to keep an eye on him.
The rest of the ascent is in an uncomfortable silence, but it doesn't take long to reach Carlisle's floor.
A pair of his acolytes stand guard outside his door, growing alert as we appear. Obviously not expecting us. One knocks on the door as we approach, and we take it slow to give them time.
The door opens and another acolyte appears. She disappears on seeing us.
Reaching them, we stop and wait in silence.
'Mister Carlisle isn't receiving visitors,' says a door guard. In what he may intend as a threatening tone. He's a bit too nasal to carry it off.
Jake turns to me. 'Do we look like visitors?'
'Well I'm relatively official looking. But you just look like trouble.'
'Me?' He looks at the guard. 'Do I look like trouble to you?'
The guard bristles. 'No. You don't.'
'Well that's a relief,' says Jake. 'So move out of the way and we can all get on with our lives.'
There's the expected tensing from the idiots. When did I grow bored of this dance?
'Timothy.' Carlisle appears at the door.
The talkative guard half turns to him, not letting us out of his field of vision.
'It'll be fine,' says Carlisle. 'Let the detectives in.'
With obvious reluctance, they obey their master. Carlisle ushers us in, and the female acolyte with him departs.
The suite's spacious. Feels a bit empty though. Like it should have more acolytes hanging off his every word. It's an upscale hotel, if not conspicuously so. For the proper rich, rather than the show-off types. And the view is probably a good percentage of the price, being high enough to see the city in a good light.
We sit on the comfortable armchairs. Two of us anyway. Jake stays on his feet, and starts to pace behind me.
'How may I assist you, detectives?'
May as well get right to it. 'We want to talk about demons, angels, and souls.'
His face freezes in place for a moment, before a smile starts to spread. Doesn't look like he'll go with denial. Hopefully I can keep that going.
'You've seen them?' asks Carlisle, a hunger to his tone.
I nod. He needn't think he'll get any information easily.
'Something, isn't it?' There's a hint of ecstasy in his expressions.
'They do raise questions.'
'Of all kinds.'
'Marcy told us about your experiments.'
He raises an eyebrow, still vaguely amused. 'Did she? At least she remembers.'
'You had Mortimer spying on her,' I say.
He gives me a disapproving look as he prepares his response. 'Spying, really. I wanted to keep track of her, make sure she was okay. Perhaps Ms. Mortimer got too eager.'
'What were you watching her for?' I ask.
'Did she tell you what happened to our colleague?'
'Pierre.'
Carlisle nods. His smile fades, though I can't be sure it isn't a calculated move. 'Experiencing these things. Some minds refuse to believe. They protect themselves. Others focus on it too much. It breaks them. I'm worried that without a support system around her, Marcy would go the same way. We were friends once.'
I have trouble believing he was ever capable of friendship, or that anything he just said was really true. And as I meet his eyes, I'm sure I recognise something there. His calm is only on the surface. Just enough to make him seem human.
Let's try pushing some buttons, see what happens. 'Is Mortimer's death why you and your cult came here?'
There's a tightening at the corners of his eyes and mouth. 'We're not a cult,' he says with exaggerated patience. 'Cults are religious. They turn from hard truths, preferring comfortable lies.' There's a hint of vitriol in his tone. 'I'm a scientist. I face the truth head on.' Until it breaks you. 'These things exist. They're a part of nature. And I aim to control them.'
Control? That sounds promising.
'Control how?' I ask.
There's a faint smile as he regains control of his mouth. 'They exist on a different vibrational pitch to our world. I've spent years developing the technology to manipulate these creatures.'
'Like drawing them out to feed on hoboes?' asks Jake. I'm seriously regretting bringing him along. It's like he's forgotten everything about interviewing. When the suspect's talking like this, you shut up and let him.
'Drawing their attention may be possible,' says Carlisle, choosing his words with care. He knows there's nothing we can charge him with, but will still be cautious what he admits. 'If we can adequately duplicate the vibrational scent that attracts them.'
'So that you can move them around?' I ask.
'To what end?' he asks, smiling. 'As a weapon? They're hardly much use to do more than frighten the living.'
As a weapon of terror they could be profitable. But profit doesn't seem to be his motive. What would his cult want with control of them? What could he offer the cultists?
'Moving them around is a test to show you can control them,' I say. 'A step towards choosing which afterlife you end up in.'
His smile widens. 'Nobody can truly control their thoughts. We can't force ourselves to be happy. Why should something so arbitrary determine our eternal hereafter? I'll be able to offer my followers a proper heaven.'
Is he insane? Maybe he can fool the things into taking a particular target, but will they continue digesting it if it's flavour isn't what they want? And then what? Would these things pick up food others had given up on?
But Carlisle has a conviction born of obsession.
Still, why control a demon? Won't he be more interest in angels?
Because he doesn't know where to find one. That's what he wanted from Marcy.
Has he got it? He could know about the hospice, but that's got staff. Testing on an abandoned ho
tel would make sense, even if he knows where to find an angel.
I don't know he does know about it. Either way, I should warn Marcy. Now she knows he's involved, he could abandon subtlety. There's no telling what his kind will do to ensure the hereafter he feels he deserves.
27
We get little else out of Carlisle. I've probably learned all I can from him. Without something to throw him off balance, anyway. Especially with Jake present. He seems increasingly unbalanced, and doesn't like Carlisle.
We probably got as good an admission of culpability in Freddy's death as we're likely to. And nothing that can let him be charged. Which is why he as much as admitted it.
I'm not sure if he was actually trying to recruit us, with the promise of a selected afterlife. Can't say I'm tempted. And Jake's hostility should keep him disinclined to consider the offer.
I could interpret that as an attempt to bribe us, but in no way would that justify shooting him.
Why don't I see any attraction in choosing an afterlife though? I've encountered both options, and know which'd be preferable.
I don't think I'm convinced the soul is me. That makes it hard to care.
I've no idea what Jake thinks on the subject. If it's anything coherent. I think he may need more time off, before he makes a serious mistake. But I'm not sure time with his own thoughts will be healthy.
I send him home before heading to Marcy's. No sense letting him alienate all potential sources of information. Especially when I need her help. She's the only one who might be able to explain how Carlisle did this. And what trouble he risks causing with the technology.
The closed sign is facing out on her front door, but it isn't locked.
I go in and call. Nothing. And I get an odd sense of something wrong.
One chair in the waiting room is out of place, but otherwise there's no obvious sign of anything untoward.
Alert, I proceed into the séance room, and then through to her office. Nothing.
I follow the stairs up. Looks like she has an apartment here. No disturbance. Or signs of life.
Why does this feel wrong?
She could simply have forgotten to lock the door.