by L A Taylor
Mike had to pull himself together before losing his cool.
“I might’ve known you’d be sniffing for a story.” he said, glaring at Chris. “As you can see we’re very busy dealing with a crisis. This business doesn’t need you sticking your nose in.”
Chris moved closer to Mike. “I believe; if anything’s going on, then the public should have the right to know about it. Don’t you?”
Mike wasn’t impressed that someone had leaked the information out to the television station, but this wasn’t the time to bring it up. Mike wanted to smack the other man in the face, but knew he couldn’t. It was mostly because the camera was pointing right at him.
The restless crowd still waited for an answer. Mike needed a different approach and a sudden brainwave had him smiling again. He’d a plan to get them off his back and put the pressure on the little ferret of a reporter.
Aware of the eyes of the crowd boring into his back, Mike gestured to Chris that he wanted a quiet word away from the camera. The ball was in Chris’ court now so what was he going to do? Mike’s plan was to put the reporter in the spotlight. If he refused to take the information then the street folk would hassle him for sure.
“What’s going on now?” muttered one of the neighbours as the men walked up the side entrance of the Smythes house.
The other officers remained with the bunch of nosey neighbours in case they followed, but each was hypnotized by what went on and seemed happy waiting. Even the mouthy one had shut up.
Mike saw the dubious expression on the reporter’s face so knew this speech wasn’t going to be an easy one. It’d been three months since their last shouting match. Mike knew that the past conversation about Chris’ mum would be mentioned very shortly. However, he needed to talk about what’s going on now. Mike shrugged his shoulders and sighed.
What am I going to say? And how much information can I trust with the little shit in front of me?
Chris never gave him time to say anything. He went for the throat again with the same speech from the last time he spoke to Mike. “What’s happening with the case? Have you found my mother’s killers yet?”
“Not yet, but that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
Chris remained uptight over the conversation. Mike could tell because Chris was now walking in a circle, trying to think of more hatred questions to blast him with.
“Listen, Chris, it’s been three months, so don’t you think it’s about time you stopped blaming me for what happened to your mother?”
Chris stopped the circling motion and looked at him. It wasn’t a glaring look like before, like just after Chris found out about his mum. This stare was calmer.
“I’m not blaming you, not anymore. I’m just pissed off that you haven’t found the bastards who killed her.”
“I’ll let you in on all the information regarding the case if you help me with this?” asked Mike.
He passed on the information that Wayne told him, plus the names of the deceased. Chris looked puzzled.
“I’m confused. How can the dead get up and attack the living?”
“I need to find that out, but I need your support. Help us find the source and you can have the information on the robbers, plus this story with my blessing.” Mike wasn’t getting through with his approach. The other man’s reaction showed that. “You owe me. You do this and I’ll forget about what you wrote in the paper.”
Chris accepted the challenge, even though he was unsure about all this being true. Deep down knew Mike was right, he did owe him. “This is too weird to make up, so I’ll do what you ask.” Chris attempted a rare smile toward the chief. “I’ll be sniffing for the answer to all of this, you can bet on that.”
“What about the feisty mob in the street?” Mike asked.
“I’ll think of something to say to keep the public happy.”
“I’m sure you will, but remember, less is more.”
“What are you going on about, less is more?”
“The less you tell the people of this town, the more you’ll have for yourself,” Mike said with a laugh.
He patted the little man on the back as they slowly returned to the confused mob. Mike smiled because it was the first time in ages that he was able to have a pleasant conversation with the other man, but Chris was left feeling totally lost to the chief’s recent riddle of words.
The crowd remained quiet as the men closed in, and some of the more conceited viewers had switched their attentions to posing in front of the camera lens. That was, until the cameraman told them that the thing wasn’t switched on. Jason almost wet himself after seeing their antics to try to get on television.
Chris took over the job of explaining the deaths of the unfortunate ones. He wasn’t going to deny that people died, but the way they met their maker was going to come out differently. There was no mention of dead people rising, but he did say that there had been a domestic incident involving the residents of both houses. Surely the curious mob would see right through his lies? But deep down knew that Vincent Smythe never got on with Sid from next door.
Mike watched the man in action. So far his version was effective and the angry mob accepted the story. Mike smiled. He now knew he’d met his match in the bullshitting department.
Mike waited for the reporter to say goodbye to his new fans before telling him that he was heading back to the station. Chris had his own idea on what to do next. If the chief was letting him off the leash in search of the answers then he was ready to go undercover. He intended making use of the many disguises that were kept in his wardrobe. They were mostly fancy dress costumes, but he’d found them effective in the past.
Everything seemed to be one giant jigsaw puzzle, but maybe Chris could be the one to put the pieces together?
FIFTEEN
It was 6.00pm when Chris entered the main doors of the hospital. With a bunch of flowers held firmly and a Dictaphone placed in the inside pocket of his jacket, he calmly walked the corridors, searching for the clues that would lead him in the right direction. His disguise was up there with the silliest ones that the great ‘Inspector Clouseau’ wore.
A few of the nurses walked by and glanced at him. They never spoke, but Chris did get a cheeky giggle followed by a smile. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the mother of all nurses showed up, but she wasn’t smiling. “Can I help you?” she huffed.
Chris guessed that this nurse would see straight through him, (well, maybe not through him, because if she did then the disguise would’ve been a waste of time), if he failed with the right answers. “Oh yeah, hopefully, Hazel,” he said, squinting at her name badge and giving her what he hoped was a charming smile.
His basic training if involved in this situation was to pause and stare into the other person’s eyes. It was supposed to put them off. “I was told my uncle was brought in today.”
For now Hazel looked past the weird outfit, thinking the man was involved in some strange cult that she’d never encountered before. “Tell me his name and I’ll help you find him?”
“Vincent Smythe,” Chris said, while still staring.
Hazel frowned, pursing her lips while looking at him sharply.
“I’m sorry. Who are you?”
“My name’s John. I’m Vincent’s nephew.”
“I thought the Smythes didn’t have any living family members?” Had Hazel sussed what he was up to? Chris wasn’t expecting
that, but soon adapted to the question.
“We haven’t seen eye to eye for many years, so maybe he forgot
I existed?” The staring increased as he tried to hypnotize her. “I’ve
just been contacted by the police. Is he all right?”
He needed a reason for the flowers so couldn’t suggest that he
knew the man was dead. Hazel had a duty to tell the truth, whether
she believed him or not, so reached out to hold Chris’ left hand
before giving him a short but exact account of what’d happened to
the
married couple.
“Didn’t anyone tell you his wife was involved in the accident as
well?”
Chris took his talents to another level, as his eyes now dripped
fake tears. “No. They never... Can I see them?”
“No. They’ve been taken to the morgue to be examined…” She spoke coldly to him. Chris guessed she was weighing him
up, so knew he needed more artillery to keep up this pretence. “Maybe you could put the flowers in water and wait for the
funeral to use them.”
Chris felt his false beard slowly peeling away, so needed to act
fast before Hazel noticed and called security. A quick exit for a few
minutes couldn’t have come at a better time.
“Sorry, but I must use the rest room. I had too much kebab
earlier and I think it wants to come out and say hello.”
Before Hazel could fathom out what the man was going on
about, he’d darted off in the direction of the toilet sign. Chris was
given a lucky escape this time. He put the flowers down, restoring
the beard before anyone else came into the gents. He then checked
the Dictaphone to make sure it was still recording.
Hazel remained in the same spot when he returned from the
toilet. Chris now had glue patches installed around the cheeks of his
face as he continued thrusting questions at the poor, shocked
woman. Hazel now pictured the man jerking off in the toilet, as the
glue reminded her of semen stains. She never mentioned it as Chris
wiped the sticky solution away.
He needed vital information before the tape ran out. “Can I see them, please?”
It took another minute before he finally received a second
answer. Hazel thought about saying “no” again but didn’t want to
look a complete fool if the freaky person turned out to be the
nephew after all.
“Okay, but only for a few minutes. They’re disfigured, so if you
haven’t got a strong stomach, don’t go there.”
This was Chris she was talking to. He would swim through a
swimming pool full of horseshit to get a story. He was up for this
big time. “I’ll be okay. Just lead the way.”
She escorted him down to the room of death and they stood
outside the main part of the morgue. Hazel explained that she
would have to check on the deceased before he went inside. After a
couple of minutes the door opened for Chris to walk in. He
prepared himself for what was about to hit him hard in the face. He knew he had to look at the dead couple and also knew that he had to act the part of the grieving relative. Hazel directed him over to the two tables containing the bodies of Vincent and Mary. Chris stood between them while Hazel and Ted, (a member of the Pathology Department), held the sheets covering the dead couple. Hazel said. “Okay, if you’re ready then we’ll remove the sheets
from their heads.”
Chris composed himself, taking probably his deepest breath
ever. “I’m ready.”
The sheets were pulled back to the shoulders and Chris glanced
at the bodies. He expected to witness a sight so grotesque that he
was prepared for the throwing up and collapsing thing, but it never
came. Mary’s head and face were bandaged, whilst Vincent’s
eyelids were stuck down. The bodies hadn’t been examined
properly and because of the short notice, Ted had managed to make
the Smythes look more respectable than a few minutes before. The
appearance portrayed confused Chris.
How can I tell if Mary was indeed Mary? She looks like one of those
ancient mummy characters.
But still he agreed that the bodies were indeed his false relatives.
A passing hand across the forehead, the sudden failing of legs, he
was doing it all just to cover his tracks. He should’ve been using this
time to offload questions for his tape, but somehow his mind filled
with the recent pictures and his intended job was put to one side. Hazel escorted Chris out of the room, leading him back to the
main part of the building. She kept up the nice act all the way to the
end, but Chris still wasn’t convinced that she was sucked in like
he’d hoped.
He decided to leave in search of new information. He did have
someone in mind for more info, but somehow had a feeling that the
other person wouldn’t be as polite. Even though Chris was on
talking terms with the chief it didn’t mean that Mike would be
welcoming him with open arms if he was to visit his house. The time was 7.00pm, and the latest news update had just been
read. A major story was now out about the deaths of the locals. This
was going to be a test of everyone’s patience. How long would it
take before a mass hysteria broke out? It all depended on how much
information the man on the television leaked.
Chris stopped his car outside Mike’s house. He was looking like
his usual self again, but maybe he should’ve left the disguise on if
he had plans on being invited inside. The doorbell rang, but there
was no reply. Mike was sleeping away the day’s trauma, but for
how much longer would he get peace? Repeatedly it rang, but still
nothing.
Chris was on the verge of giving up for the night but decided on
taking a sneaky look through the living room window. It was
probably a force of habit for him to do this. The television was on.
He glanced around the room, only stopping after a pair of human
legs was spotted. He banged on the window until Mike woke up.
Chris wasn’t bothered that the chief needed rest. He reckoned that if
he was still working then Mike should be. Maybe this was the
reason why he never got on with anybody?
Legs manoeuvred onto the carpet. Mike stared at the other man,
hoping this was just a dream, the reporter wasn’t really there, and
he could go back to sleep, but now had a feeling that sleep time was over. Which was worse for Mike, facing those crazy fucks or having a visit from Chris? It would definitely be a close call to make. Mike’s hands rubbed against tired eyes in order to view the other man
better.
“What do you want?” he shouted.
“Open the door. I want to speak to you about something.” “I’m very tired. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
Chris knew he had the other man rattled. “No. I need to talk to
you now.” Reluctantly, Mike opened the door. “Did you hear the
news report? What did you think?” Chris asked.
“Shit, I missed it. What did you say?” said Mike, gesturing to
Chris to come inside.
“I never had time to read it. I’ve been very busy with my own
investigations.” Mike frowned, and wasn’t happy that someone else
was given the story to read. “I can see you’re worried, but don’t be.
Nothing was leaked out. I gave them the story that I told the people
in the street.”
Mike looked seriously irritated, and if Chris carried on with his,
‘hey, we got away with it and don’t you worry about a thing’, chat,
then there could be an altercation happening very soon. “Were you born stupid? I told you what happened in good faith.
Meaning, I wanted you to run the story.”
Chris sensed that the other man was ready to blow his top. Maybe this was the right time to treat Mike with more respect, he
thought.
“I never told them the truth, you have to believe that. I want to
help you sort it out.”
“Help sort it, don’t make me laugh. All you want is a good story
to make you famous.”
Chris had a way of escaping near death moments and what he
said next verified that. “I know, but if you solve this mystery then
you’ll also be famous.”
“You’ve got a point there.”
The reporter had succeeded. The chief smiled again and the
altercation was put on hold.
Mike made his way into the kitchen as Chris sat down. He
returned with two glasses filled with whiskey and handed one to
Chris. The reporter explained his visit to the hospital and that he
was nearly identified by the chief nurse. Mike laughed out loud,
almost choking whilst swallowing some of the liquid.
“What you laughing for?” Chris said in a baffled tone. “I’ve seen that nurse, and she’s one scary lady.”
“You’re telling me.”
Mike was back on serious mode again and needed Chris to do
the same. “Be more careful the next time you try anything like this.”
Mike shook his head. “In fact, I don’t want you sniffing for clues
unless you get the nod from me. Is that understood?”
Chris nodded his approval, taking a sip from his glass. They watched the television in their quest to witness a repeated
news report. After about an hour of solid, mind-boggling drinking,
the local news came on. Chris needed more input. He thought this
could be the right time to ask Mike some very personal questions on
the day’s events. Mike eagerly watched the news as the other man threw out questions to be answered. Maybe he was helping the
police now, but Chris was still a reporter who needed a story. “So, Mike.” Chris tried hard to concentrate, but his words never
flowed like earlier. “What did the nurse say…to…you?” A hiccup occurred following the last few words. This caused the