Sirens and Scales
Page 322
Doctor Jefferson Hamilton shook his head. “She watches too much Doctor Who.”
Tameka has smiled up at them, her face angelic. She knew how to play her adopted parents, but they were becoming immune to it. They were highly regarded psychiatrists with a dozen PHDs between them after all.
When she was twelve her parents had convinced her to try her hand at acting as an outlet for her gifts. She got an agent, went to acting classes. She tried theatre, commercials, even auditioned for some movies. Soon after that, Tameka had found herself the star of a children’s sitcom on Nickelodeon called “Tammy’s World”. It ran for five years until she quit, realizing the vile, fake world of Hollywood wasn’t for her. Well, that and the fact that the guy who played her father on the show got her pregnant.
Shit. I wasn’t supposed to think about that.
How she’d ended up as a consulting detective for the BCPD was another story altogether, but she was content with her new life. Helping people and stopping shit-bag criminals was the appropriate use for her gifts. It made her feel wanted; she was doing something good with her life. The fact that it was kick ass was an added bonus.
And the fact that I get to kick the asses of criminals is a bonus too.
The name of the last suicide victim caught her eye.
“Jan Zybesky,” she muttered. “Red knows her.”
She’d met Jan at Red’s embarrassing Christmas party last year. She was his neighbor, a quiet but witty woman who was star struck by Tameka, having been a fan of Tammy’s World. It was always nice to meet a fan. She remembered that Jan had been somewhat of an amateur magician. Her party trick had been to levitate a dime. It hadn’t been that impressive, though she seemed to think it was fun.
Were Red and Jan lovers, or just friends?
* * *
JAN - Will you please leave me alone? What’s wrong with you?
SUZ - What’s wrong with you?
JAN - I reported you and they took your account down.
SUZ - I am not done with you.
JAN - I’m signing off. Leave me alone.
SUZ - You’ll always be alone. Alone to the end. Just kill yourself.
* * *
Tameka flipped to the last page of Jan’s printouts. The abuse from the internet troll got steadily crueler, almost to the point where she had to stop for a moment.
No wonder Jan killed herself. If she was mentally unsound before this it would almost be like a Siren’s call to kill herself.
It came from different user names but it was obvious the vitriol was coming from the same person.
* * *
RIB - You deserve a painful death, Jan, just like the painful death you gave that fly on your windowsill. Poor little insect. It did nothing to you.
JAN - What fly?
RIB - You know the one.
JAN - Are you watching me? I’m going to the police. I’ve had enough.
RIB - If you’ve had enough than kill yourself. Bleed out like the bitch you are. Your life is shit anyway. What’s the point? No woman will ever love you. You’re the most pathetic lesbian I’ve ever seen.
JAN - Just stop.
* * *
That was the last time Jan had talked online. There was a photograph of Jan, her wrists slashed open with the jagged edge of a broken bottle, dated the very next day. There was so much blood the woman’s carpet was congealed in it like a sticky, horrible mess. She’d died in pain, thinking it was the only way out.
She read further, finding Jan had no previous records of depression or anxiety. Neither did the other victims. To any other person it would appear these poor people were unrelated and had cracked after suffering too much abuse. But Red had seen a pattern. She wasn’t sure she could see the same pattern, but she saw something. It was the same troll in every case. Their user name changed, and so did their ISP, but it was obviously the same person every time.
“So how did they convince all these seemingly mentally sound people to kill themselves?” she mused out loud. “Was it some sort of hypnosis?”
She chucked out that hypothesis straight away. If it was hypnosis, then anyone who read the messages would kill themselves. Or maybe the troll just targeted people with weak minds, those susceptible to hypnosis?
Maybe the victims have been under hypnosis before.
She dismissed that idea. Two of the victims had high IQs, and she knew that even a competent hypnotist could mesmerize anybody they wanted. She’d seen it herself in Vegas when some top hat wearing cretin hypnotized a doctor into trying to lay an egg on stage.
She phoned her mother. If there was anybody who knew about the subject it was her. She had written a book on the subject of psychiatry and hypnosis after all. Doctor Hamilton was an excellent hypnotist herself.
“Tameka darling!” her mother cooed. She sounded excited over something, making Tameka groan. “I was hoping to hear from you. Your father and I are going to this charity gala next week and…”
“Yes, I’ll go with you,” said Tameka, hoping to halt an hour’s worth of begging. “Now I need your help. Can you hypnotize someone through the written word?”
“Don’t be stupid. What makes you ask that?”
Tameka quickly explained the case she’d been assigned. She hoped her mother didn’t despair. She thought her daughter’s career as a detective was a step down. Maybe it was. Maybe she could do better. But what was better than helping people and making sure criminals got put behind bars?
“So?” said Tameka. “What do you think?”
“You don’t need my help,” said her mother. “You know what you have to do next. You’re just stalling.”
Tameka paused. “Something about this unnerves me. It’s not just the fact that an internet troll can make people kill themselves. It’s…I just can’t put my finger on it.”
“Trust your instincts. They’ve never steered you wrong before.” She paused before adding, “And just to be clear, we’re setting you up with a man at the charity gala. That’s okay with you, hmm?”
Tameka hung up. She knew perfectly well what a devious cow her mother was, but she was fine with it. Her mother had excellent taste in men, and they were usually good for a night of hot sex before she pretended not to know them the next day. She wasn’t interested in anything long term. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She closed the files and set them back on Red’s tidy, ordered desk. She could still smell his aftershave. It lingered in the confined space of his office like a concealed snake. Why did he wear so much? Was his natural body odor truly that bad?
She left the police station, a plan forming in her head. It was risky, but she was all about the risk. All she had to do was create a fake Facebook account, pretend to be the last victim’s devoted best friend, and hope the troll made contact.
Then that bastard is mine.
2
Who am I?
I am Lorrie Vector. Jan Zybesky was my best friend. We’d known each other since kindergarten. I can’t believe she’s dead. My whole world is falling apart. What am I supposed to do without her?
* * *
There was a response right away from a well wisher. Tameka replied, laying on the grief. It wasn’t the troll, just some woman who tried to make Jan’s death all about her and how her cat grooming business was going bankrupt. She ended up talking to her for ten minutes before she blocked her, bored.
Of course the troll might not be monitoring Jan’s account. He or she could already be chatting to their next victim. At the moment it was the only idea she had. Tracking someone on the internet was tricky business, especially one who could cover their tracks so easily.
She clicked on the troll’s last alias, that of RIB. The Facebook account hadn’t been terminated as of yet. The account’s details offered no information apart from the fact that the person enjoyed the movies of Uwe Boll.
That sick bastard.
She considered sending them a message, but decided it was a bad idea. She didn’t want to tip them off.
Both Laverne and I lost our parents. We’re lucky to have the Hamiltons.
There was a leaflet for the Blue City Aquarium nestled menacingly between bills. The tourist attraction was an underwater structure built just off the harbor, nicknamed Atlantis by the press. It was supposed to be the technological and architectural marvel of the decade. She dropped the leaflet, feeling nauseous.
The water can’t hurt you…
The water can’t hurt you…
She ran to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of milk. She swigged it down, pushing the thoughts of deep water back into the far recesses of her mind.
The water can’t hurt you…
Her fear of water was all consuming. Sometimes even seeing a running tap would make her feel ill. It caused panic attacks and nightmares that made her screech like a banshee. The dreams were less frequent now, but they still crept up on her occasionally.
The water can’t hurt you…
She smiled, the fears vanishing. It was time to get back to work.
Red knocked on the door, feeling a little like he was intruding. He’d never been to Tameka’s apartment before. He’d never had any reason to. But this time it was different. She was investigating Jan’s death, and Jan had meant something to him. Jan had been a friend in times when he’d felt lonely and separated from from his family. Besides, he needed to know how she was getting on. He hadn’t heard anything from her for days. For all he knew she’d solved the case already and was on to the next thing.
A bleary eyed Tameka opened the door. She had bags under her eyes and her normally springy afro looked lifeless. She wore zero make-up and she had mayonnaise stains on her ratty t-shirt. It was like something from a zombie movie.
“Are you going to eat my brains?” he asked.
“I’m going to kick you in the balls,” she groaned. She picked at what seemed to be a Fruit Loop stuck to her shoulder and ate it. “What is it?”
He’d never seen her inhabit such a slovenly character before. It was distracting and a little unnerving. He’d always thought her chameleon gift odd, though extremely handy for solving a case.
“I need to know how you’re doing,” he said, trying not to smell her serious case of BO. “I haven’t heard from you in days.”
She sighed. “I’m in character. I want to die. I feel like shit.”
“Stop being so melodramatic.” At her death glare he added, “Right. You really are feeling like you want to die.”
She nodded. “Enter at your own peril.”
Red pushed his way in, concerned for her wellbeing. When she was in character it was like she was transformed, possessed even. It was a rapid transformation he wasn’t sure even the most accomplished actor could perform. It was impressive though terrifying at the same time.
“Shall I make you a coffee?” he offered.
The area around her coffee table was a mess. There were empty take-out cartons and half drunk bottles of cheap beer. The television was currently displaying a trashy talk show. None of this was the real Tameka. She didn’t drink beer. She only ate food she’d cooked herself, and she thought talk shows rotted the brain. She really was deep into her character.
“Black coffee,” she ordered, flopping down on her couch. She was wearing jogging pants and a ratty t-shirt that said “Blue City College” on it. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Not that I notice such things.
“You hate black coffee,” he said.
“Lorrie Vector only drinks black coffee,” she shot back, pulling her laptop onto her knees. Even the laptop looked sticky with food residue. “Lorrie Vector is a caffeine fiend who self harms. Her favorite color is pink, though she tells everyone it’s blue. She wants to be a Care Bear, and she buys vintage dolls off EBay to fill the void in her life because she’s infertile.”
There was a creepy looking doll on the floor by Tameka’s feet. It looked at Red like it wanted to stab him to death and feast on his corpse. He vowed to set the thing on fire and throw it in the garbage the first chance he got.
“What have you found?” he asked, busying himself in the kitchen. He found a copper kettle and a jar of instant coffee that looked like dried cat shit. “Anything interesting, or are you too busy buying demonic dolls and having Care Bear fantasies to notice?”
Tameka’s blood shot stare made him jump. “The troll says if I miss Jan so much I should just go ahead and join her in Hell. He’s quite eloquent when it comes to insults.”
Red stopped what he was doing and joined Tameka on the couch. He noticed several healing cuts on her arms, obviously self inflicted. He shook his head, ignoring it. If she needed to do that to stay in character, then saying something about it would only enrage her.
But I do wish she wouldn’t hurt herself.
“Let me see,” he said.
“What about the coffee?” she demanded.
“It can wait. I need to see this.”
“I really, really need some coffee right now. Really, really, really.”
“Tammy…”
He sighed and made them both a cup of coffee. Tammy’s was so strong it could be used to melt through a bank vault.
She sipped at the coffee and sighed. Her hands were shaking. “Dreamily good.”
She was so high on caffeine Red was surprised she didn’t float out the window.
“This is not healthy,” he said.
“So is the amount of aftershave you bathe in but I don’t go on about that.”
He turned away, a little embarrassed. He thought she hadn’t noticed.
He went on. “I get you become consumed when you’re in character, but cutting yourself is not good. Tameka…”
She plonked the laptop on his knee, cutting him off. He decided to leave it alone for now. Worrying about her did him no good.
“Look at the screen,” she commanded.
What he saw disgusted him.
* * *
LORRIELet me grieve!
JSPYou’ve been grieving for too long. Just die.
LORRIEI’m working through my grief by talking about Jan. You don’t know how I feel. You can’t know.
JSPI know how you feel. You feel like killing yourself. Do it.
LORRIEStop stalking me. I’ll call the police.
JSP You’d be just wasting their time. The police can’t help you. Only death can take away the pain and help the living.
LORRIEHow can my death help the living?
JSPThey’d be rid of your insufferable whining, won’t they?
LORRIEJust fuck off.
JSP You fuck off…to the roof of your apartment building. Throw yourself off. You’d make pretty patterns on the ground when you go splat.
* * *
Red closed the laptop. He couldn’t quite finish his coffee.
“He knows you live in an apartment building,” he said, concerned. “How the hell did he know that? Did you tell him?”
“I never told him. It was probably just a guess,” said Tameka. She yawned. “I need to sleep so badly. He’s been trying to convince me to off myself for nearly a day now. It’s exhausting.”
He looked into her eyes, trying to see what was ticking inside her head. He’d never been able to read Tameka. He could tell when criminals were lying. He looked at them and saw into their dark hearts. This amazing chameleon girl with the afro was an enigma to him. He wasn’t sure whether he liked that or not but it certainly made their relationship interesting.
“Has he convinced you to do anything stupid?” he asked.
She grinned, idly scratching at the healing cuts on her arm. “Of course not. I’m not that
weak willed.”
“Neither was Jan. She is…she was the life of the party. She had a new job she raved about. I just don’t understand it.”
“You weren’t her lover?”
“No. She was gay. You did read her transcripts, right?”
Tameka’s colossal embarrassment eclipsed the Lorrie personality. Of course Jan was gay. How could she think otherwise? It was right there in the texts.
She stood up, feeling the Lorrie persona wash away. She was finished with that now. Being her had led Tameka nowhere except to a really bad place of shitty Chinese noodles, cutting, and beer that tasted like bath foam. She felt slightly hung-over. She always did when she became really absorbed in one of her roles.
“Does me hair look as bad it feels?” she demanded, freaking out, pulling at her curls. “I look like a poodle in a spin drier, right?”
Ed grinned. “And the real Tameka Hamilton is back. How was the trip?”
“I need a shower.” She pointed to the door. “That means it’s time for you to leave. Or do you want to stay and have freaky sex? I’m game.”
He almost blushed as he said, “We still haven’t discussed the case.”
“It’s late, and I’m dirty and I’m tired and I have black bean sauce in my hair. Come back tomorrow morning and we can come up with a new strategy.” She placed her hands on his shoulders when it looked as though he was going to argue. “Red, my sexy police detective, I have this guy’s scent now. I’m not going to rest until this bitch is rotting in jail, his ass used as a sex doll by a closeted neo-Nazi.”
“You’re so eloquent.”
She pushed him out the door, slammed it in his face, and locked it tight.
Don’t worry, Jan. You’ll have the vengeance you deserve.
If there was one thing Tameka enjoyed more than shocking Red, it was getting vengeance against criminal scum.
Tameka closed her eyes, feeling the tepid water run down her body. She hated hot showers. The feel of scalding hot liquid on her body made her feel insecure.