Over My Dead Body

by Dave Warner

  She stopped mid-thought. That sounded like somebody’s breath, right behind her. She only managed the first instance of the pivot before some terrible force was crushing her throat, cutting off air. Her arms flailed like those plastic men outside of car yards. She couldn’t scream but lashed back with her elbow, felt her feet leave the carpet, the room spin, her hip smash into the floor but the pressure never subsided, and her heart was pounding and she could feel tears welling but no … air. She remembered the bottle in the freezer, it would explode. Everything was growing dimmer, her lungs couldn’t fill, she was terrified, peeing herself, that expensive underwear, couldn’t help it, couldn’t make a single word, not even a whimper.

  In those last seconds she resigned herself to a fate that might have been hers long ago.

  A tear froze in her eye and the light in it slowly faded.

  16

  Holmes sliced the top off her egg with a terrifying efficiency.

  ‘Three-minutes forty-five. One thing that hasn’t changed in a century, thank goodness, is the perfect duration to boil an egg.’

  She thanked him. He was delighted with himself. He tucked the napkin into his shirt and sat opposite. She had woken to a text from Benson to say they had taken Coleman, the suspect, into custody. The message had been sent at four in the morning and it was now eight.

  ‘No word from Simone?’ asked Holmes.

  ‘No. She normally doesn’t rise before ten. I could call her, I suppose.’

  He said there was no need. Valerian had indicated he would not have the email addresses before nine-thirty.

  ‘He has swim squad, he told me. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Like a stone. You?’

  ‘Two hours deep and dark as the Congo.’

  ‘What were you doing when you weren’t searching for Livingstone?’

  ‘I met Stanley, you know. Wonderful fellow. I digress: in answer to your question I was cogitating and making a list which I took the liberty of printing. The machine I’m afraid took me some little time to decipher.’ He hauled up a wad of paper. ‘The first twenty or so I managed only one entry per page but then I mastered it.’ He slapped the paper. ‘Every business in this city I could find that had “zebra” in the title.’

  ‘That’s a very literal interpretation. Noah might simply choose a woman wearing black and white stripes.’

  ‘That, I am afraid, is very true.’

  ‘I need to visit my lab. One of my hamsters may be ill and I need to monitor her. You are more than welcome to join me.’

  ‘Thank you but I wish to meet with Valerian. He was organising some surveillance for me on our four known suspects.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s only seven dollars per hour.’

  The rate this was going, she’d be penniless by Thanksgiving.

  ‘You need to consult with me.’

  ‘There was no time. I promise I shall repay you, Watson.’

  What the hell. She let it go. ‘Don’t forget you have a phone now.’

  He raised his forearm to show where he had written his phone’s number. ‘I shall accompany you to the lab.’

  She told him there was absolutely no need but he insisted and, as they would both be heading downtown, she accepted his offer.

  The cold slapped her across the face. The rain had gone and with it any juice of life. It seemed her fingers might snap. Holmes’ breath formed white clouds. Without any self-aggrandizement she found herself marvelling at what she had brought about. Nearly one-hundred and thirty years on, this man, who had been as inert as the pavement, was alive. Looking through the car window it was like they were touring an urban Disneyland. Pedestrians appeared inanimate, as if placed in position by a giant hand. The trees had become petrified. There appeared to be no life at all beyond the vehicle.

  Snow was near.

  Her phone buzzed. A text from Benson. He was back on deck and was about to continue his interview with Coleman but would call her as soon as he was out of there.

  ‘I told you,’ said Holmes snippily. ‘Wasting their time. Wouldn’t know how to find Noah if he were a homing pigeon.’

  When the car reached the lab she stepped out and said, ‘Please don’t land us in hot water.’

  ‘I shall do only what I deem necessary to apprehend Noah.’

  A reply that fell well short of her scientist’s desire for certainty. She was wearing gloves and a fake-fur hood but they were paper against a wolf’s sharp claw and in the twenty yards to the door, the cold shredded her. What must it have been like back in Holmes’ era? Unless they had fire-pits burning coal in the middle of the foyer, it would have been brutal in those big old buildings. Thankfully heating had come a long way and relief was instant as she entered. When she saw the friendly face of the security guard, Steven, she remembered to ask.

  ‘What happened to Jason? Is he okay?’

  ‘Getting better. He got hit by a motorcycle. It never even stopped. Fractured pelvis, some other stuff.’

  ‘That’s horrible.’

  ‘Yeah, just goes to show. Can’t take nothing for granted. How do you find the new guy?’

  ‘Very formal.’

  ‘Know what you mean. I tried to jaw with him a bit but he wasn’t interested. They’re saying snow tonight.’

  She said she could believe it.

  Not only had there been no improvement in Zoe’s condition but Vernon, who had been the second of her revived hamsters, was looking listless, just how Zoe had the day before. It was possible they had both picked up some virus around the same time. And it was as she was reflecting on what might be responsible that she received a call from Anita Mirabella.

  ‘What’s going on, Georgette, I haven’t heard from you?’

  Georgette fudged, said she had taken some time off.

  ‘That’s a good idea. We can get too close. I haven’t forgotten you and I’m getting a bit more positive reaction from the board now that they are seeing the news stories you got. Could you write me up a proposition, not too scientific, these people are lawyers and accountants. Email it to me and I’ll reshape it.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you.’

  ‘I want to see smart people advance,’ said Mirabella. ‘Let’s do lunch soon.’

  Georgette left it that and returned to the task at hand. She began carefully examining each of the hamsters, checking their temperatures and weight. So far, the rest of the hamsters were in good health but she was thinking she might need to segregate them from Zoe and Vernon, just in case. Her mind wandered to whether Harry had left himself enough time to get back for the show. It might well depend on whether he was still trying to end Mirsch’s streak. Mostly though, she thought about Holmes, and what she thought about thinking about Holmes. Was there something icky about it? Like, Simone had suggested, Frankenstein falling for his monster. Holmes was intelligent, charming … obstinate. But mostly he was extremely un-Vance, and that was the most compelling point in his favor. All the same …

  Her phone rang, and for a moment her system blipped, her thinking it was Holmes. But it was a number she did not immediately recognize though it seemed familiar.

  ‘Georgette Watson.’

  ‘Georgette, Avery Scheer. Have I caught you at a bad time?’

  Holy crap! Think … The silence was lengthening.

  ‘I’m just in my lab,’ she said and then kicked herself for divulging it.

  ‘I probably sound like a schoolboy but I’ve not been able to think about much else since we met yesterday. I would love to hear more of your work and I thought you may be free for lunch.’

  She looked at the clock and saw it was already past midday.

  ‘Oh,’ she said, surprised on all counts.

  ‘I’m free for an hour or so. I could head your way. But, of course if it is inconvenient …’

  This was a chance to mine information, wasn’t it? But then again, the man could be a psychopathic killer. Surely though, in a public restaurant in the middle of
the day … Stamping out the fuse a split second before the dynamite ignited, she said, ‘That would be lovely.’

  Rhumba was a medium-sized restaurant, crowded for lunch meetings. For the hundredth time she asked herself what the hell was she thinking accepting the invitation. Damn Holmes. She had tried him constantly but there had been no answer. She’d left three messages on Simone’s phone, Harry was likely on the road, and Benson was still interviewing his suspect. Images flashed through her brain: Gina Scaroldi, throat slashed and dumped in ruins, Lucy Bassey squeezed into a bloody confessional box. And then there was no time for thought because Avery Scheer walked in through the door and headed straight towards her.

  She forced herself to smile warmly and shook his extended hand.

  ‘I’m so pleased you could make time for me,’ he said smoothly.

  ‘Your invitation was opportune. I needed a break.’

  Silence inserted itself between them. It was removed by an attentive waiter asking what they would like to drink.

  ‘I’m not sure about the lady but I would like a glass of merlot.’

  Georgette opted for the same.

  Scheer said, ‘You know, at the risk of making myself unpopular with both you and Percy … I meant to include him in the invitation, will he be joining us?’

  She saw an opening. ‘Quite likely.’

  ‘Then I can tell him myself, but I wanted to declare up front that I’ve been thinking about the book and I really would prefer not to sell. Percy’s offer is generous but now that I feel I know you, even just a little, it seems wrong to profit at your friend’s expense. If that’s why you’re here, I am not offended but I hope we can still have a pleasant lunch.’

  Georgette said, ‘Oh no, that’s not why I agreed. I’m famished and I thought, why not? A bit of intelligent discussion never harmed anyone.’ Except perhaps your victims, she thought as she smiled. ‘No, the book is between you and Percy and frankly I think he’s better off saving his money.’

  The waiter delivered their drinks. Scheer toasted her.

  ‘Here’s to happy accidents.’

  She gave hers the merest sip. Scheer glanced at the menu.

  ‘So please, tell me about your research?’

  Georgette ran through the basics. Her breathing had levelled out and conversation was easier now.

  ‘The next stage is to try human subjects but I am afraid the university is balking.’

  Scheer shook his head. ‘They really have no idea what we do at the coalface.’

  The idea of Avery Scheer in a coalmine was absurd. He announced he was going to have the turkey salad. She opted for soup. After the waiter had taken their orders, Scheer sipped his wine and continued on the theme.

  ‘I won’t say my area is the same as yours, not at all, but I face the same kind of restrictions. I consult for a number of psychiatric institutions and the reality is they are compromised and don’t see it. It is easier for them to keep a person tranquilized and confined than to rehabilitate them, let them free in the outside world.’

  ‘In case they do something violent?’

  ‘Primarily. So that’s where we are the same, you and me. I can save people, mentally, but these institutions fear if something goes wrong, they will be sued, or worse, have their “brand” damaged. They would be terrified that if a person you revived subsequently displays any aberrant behavior, you – and by extension them – will be blamed.’

  She hadn’t thought of this before. What would the ramifications be if it were discovered Holmes was working on a serial murder case?

  ‘You seem attracted to crime.’ Scheer took another sip and looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Well, Percy for a start. He’s a criminologist, right? And I’m sure I read that your father is a policeman.’

  For the first time Georgette had the inkling that Scheer might be quizzing her under the guise of general conversation.

  ‘Yes, he works out of Queens.’

  Play it cool, straight up, she was telling herself. Scheer displayed no violent reaction.

  ‘I’m sure your father is the exception but I’ve found the police to be …’ he searched carefully for the word he wanted, ‘… pedestrian.’

  Her phone rang and with relief she recognized her old number.

  ‘Percy,’ she answered gaily.

  ‘Afternoon, Watson. Are you at your lab?’

  ‘No, I’m at Rhumba at lunch with Avery Scheer. Are you able to join us?’

  ‘Lunch? My God, Watson.’

  She rattled off the address from the menu. ‘I do you hope can join us. Although don’t get your hopes up, Avery says he does not want to sell.’

  Holmes assured her he would get there as soon as he could. She relayed the message. Scheer made a show of welcoming the news.

  ‘Returning to our discourse, it is interesting,’ Scheer fingered the stem of his glass, ‘that you do seem to be surrounded by those engaged in the understanding of the criminal mind.’

  ‘I didn’t have much say in my father’s occupation.’

  ‘No, but perhaps it has shaped you. Nobody has spent more hours than me trying to unravel the relative importance to criminal proclivity of genetic disposition as compared to environmental background. I still can’t decide where I sit.’ He suddenly changed tack. ‘How did you meet Percy?’

  ‘There was a conference in London on factors to be considered in determining time of death.’ She was borrowing from the true facts. The conference had been real. ‘I was there because of the significance to my research: I need to know as exactly as possible time of death in order to know the correct mix of gases. Percy was there for somewhat different reasons.’

  Scheer said, ‘I thought you mentioned Switzerland?’

  Shit, she had too. Improvise!

  ‘Actually, that is true. Our paths crossed there but we didn’t know one other very well at all, just through a function we had both attended. The conference was where we got to know one other.’

  Scheer seemed to take that at face value. ‘What fascinates me are the moral questions. When is somebody responsible for their actions? Most people say: When they know what they are doing, but you can know what you’re doing without being able to stop – just look at most golfers who keep two-putting.’

  ‘You think it is a compulsion to kill?’

  ‘Sometimes. But I have seen people kill because it’s the right thing to do.’

  ‘In their eyes, you mean?’

  ‘Of course. Abraham was prepared to murder his own son because God had told him. Was he wrong? Was he mad?’

  Again, the biblical reference did not escape her.

  ‘It’s hard to think killing your child could be right.’

  ‘That’s the whole point. Is somebody noble, or simply crazy? I treated a woman who killed her three children because she believed they were possessed. She was sure she had done the right thing. Many soldiers kill because they are told to by an unseen superior. We don’t say they are mad. I’m sure for Abraham that God was just as real, maybe more real an entity than, say, the President is for a lot of his troops.’

  The food arrived. Georgette said she supposed that was where his discipline posed a lot more questions than hers.

  ‘Really? I would have thought bringing somebody back from the dead was the most morally contentious issue. Suppose you had a chance to bring back a despot, or simply a murderer. Would you do it?’

  She found his intensity unsettling.

  ‘I don’t know if I have a choice.’

  He pointed his fork at her. ‘And that’s exactly what many killers would tell you about their murders, that the average person just simply doesn’t operate at the elite level they do whereby they can see the connection among all things: good–evil, life–death.’

  ‘But those people are insane.’

  His eyes twinkled. ‘Isn’t that exactly what so many people have said about you believing you can resurrect people long frozen?
The truly insane thing is believing we don’t have power over life and death. We do.’

  ‘He said those exact words?’ Holmes had arrived about ten minutes after Scheer had departed. Scheer had offered to give her a ride back to her lab. As if. Fortunately, she had been able to use waiting for Percy as an excuse.

  ‘Yes, those exact words.’

  Holmes had finally appeared, running down the street, arriving out of breath, and profusely apologetic, explaining his ‘omnibus’ had been at a standstill. He had then immediately quizzed her on the exchange between her and Scheer. They were still standing in bitter cold, out the front of Rhumba.

  ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone?’ She heard herself, a worried parent scolding a child who might have injured himself.

  ‘It appears I had the volume turned down.’

  ‘Did your spies have anything of interest to report?’

  ‘Both Melissa Harper and Walter Morris arrived home alone at ten-fifteen and ten-forty-one respectively, Scheer just before eleven, and Edwards did not leave the house.’

  ‘Teenage boys: they could just be making it all up, too busy on their Xbox.’

  ‘Whatever that may be. One works with what tools one has available. I don’t need to tell you, Watson, that placing yourself in this kind of situation with Scheer is potentially dangerous, certainly inadvisable.’

  While she might have agreed with him wholeheartedly, she was not about to give him the satisfaction.

  ‘Almost any useful thing humankind has done has required an action that was inadvisable or dangerous or both. Look at your friend Livingstone.’

  ‘Stanley,’ he corrected. ‘And he was not my friend but a friendly man.’

  ‘What about Valerian?’

  ‘A splendid young fellow. He explained it would be quite easy for him to have a “poke around” our suspects’ computers. Said it was like looking through their trash cans – a method your antecedent and I employed to solve the case of the Nottingham Nobbler.’

  ‘That’s totally illegal.’

  ‘Most effective crime-solution is. He delivered: not only the names of the other two attendees but he ran me through their Facebook profiles.’