I stop my jaw from dropping as I look over Brandon’s body again. I pull the sheet away completely and inspect his body.
“Mister Baxter! What are you doing?”
“You believe he died of an embolism?” I ask.
“Yes,” Doctor Hallowell says. “He was fine when we left the other night, and when we came to check in on him, he was dead.”
“Has he had any visitors?”
Doctor Hallowell shakes his head. “I’m afraid he’s been alone here since what I suppose was your last visit.”
I curse under my breath, ignoring the doctor’s face at the strong language. “Have his belongings been collected? Or are they still in his room?”
“They’re still in his room. We prefer to allow the families to look at how the patients lived without the guise of cleanup first.” Doctor Hallowell pulls out a handkerchief and dabs his head with it. “Many are still skeptical of our intentions here.”
“I’d like to see his room now.”
“Of course.”
We turn to leave and exit the mortuary. “I want to go in alone,” I say as we walk.
“Excuse me?”
“I want to go into Brandon’s room myself. I want to look at the items and see what he left behind without any watchful eyes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m his family, and I’m reserving the right to collect my brother’s items in peace.”
I can see the objection in his face, and I’m banking on his desire to uphold the standards Hermetic Medical set in place. I watch as he tries to think of an excuse that won’t anger me. Finally, he slumps his shoulders.
“All right, you can go in alone.” He sounds defeated.
Everything about the situation feels wrong. Doctor Hallowell gave in a little too easily, and he’s a little too casual about Brandon’s death. He cares more for the hospital’s appearances than the idea that a patient in his care died suddenly.
“I’m going to want an autopsy as well,” I say. “I want to be sure it was an embolism that killed my brother.”
“I’m sorry, Mister Baxter,” Doctor Hallowell says, “but we don’t have the staff to conduct an autopsy.”
“That’s all right. You have a perfectly good room there. I have a guy who owes me a favour; he can perform the autopsy while you go on with your business.”
The sound Doctor Hallowell makes is a cross between utter bewilderment and terror of having a secret discovered. I don’t call him on it.
He leads me to Brandon’s room and opens the door. “I’ll be right out here. Take as long as you need.”
“Is there anything I can use to put his possessions in?”
“Mister Baxter, our patients don’t have much to their names in here. Anything he’d have owned outside the institute will have to be gone over with a lawyer, as it is none of our business. Everything your brother owned is in that room, and you could carry it out in your jacket pocket.”
I purse my lips and give a slight nod in acknowledgement before entering and closing the door behind me.
The doctor is right when he says Brandon didn’t have much. There’s a short novel he was reading, probably with nothing troubling in its contents. I see a small notebook that I assume is a diary. I grab it and flip through the pages. There’s nothing of any interest in the pages; they mostly describe the nightmares he’d been having. I’ve always wished I could have been there in The Great War, but with Brandon being the way he was, I won’t ever admit it. With what I read in the diary and the things he’d told me he’d seen, I often retract my envy.
I sigh, wishing Brandon had seen his death coming. I wish he’d figured a way to get me a message without the staff figuring it out. While Doctor Hallowell says they don’t go through the rooms, I have my doubts. If Brandon had seen his death coming, he would have wanted to get me the message in a way the staff couldn’t have imagined. Somehow I would figure it out without being too obvious.
I look over at the table and grin. The tissue box. They’d for sure look, but after pulling out a few tissues, they wouldn’t look any farther. I go to the box and pry open the bottom, not caring if I tear the cardboard.
Three pieces of tissue with writing on them fall to the bed. I grin and pick them up.
I don’t have much time; they’re on to me. I know what they are. They’re devils. They’re truly evil. They’re the true form of death.
They’re going to kill me. They’re going to make it look like it was a natural occurrence, but that’s what they do. They kill and make it look natural. But it’s not natural. They’re not natural. I don’t know what I can do.
Thomas, you have to figure this out. You have to get to them. Make them think you’re one of them. Make them believe you are on their side.
You’re the only one who can do this, little brother. I believe in you.
I read the message three more times before crumpling the tissues and throwing them into his toilet. I watch the tissues dissolve, and then I flush.
“I’m ready to go,” I say to Doctor Hallowell as I leave Brandon’s room. I have the novel and his diary in my hands.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful,” Doctor Hallowell says. I almost believe his words are genuine.
“I’ll be in touch with you for that autopsy,” I say. “I’ll want it done before the funeral.”
“Of course.”
I walk out of the building and to the taxi waiting for me.
Chapter 14
The Tail
I’m halfway back to my office when I notice in the rear-view mirror a deep red Cadillac making the same turns we are. This morning, preoccupied as I was with my brother’s death, I hadn’t noticed if I’d been followed. If Moses – or whoever he’s in league with – has something to do with my brother’s death, it makes sense to keep an eye on me.
The words in Brandon’s secret note tumble forward in my head. They kill and make it look natural. But it’s not natural. They’re not natural. What could he have meant by that? Was it literal? Were they creatures from another planet? There are films about such things, but they’re always kept to the realm of fiction.
It’s more likely he meant it in a metaphorical sense. The killing of others is not a natural thing for humans to do. Though that line of reasoning doesn’t make any sense either. Humans have been killing one another since the dawn of time.
I sigh, wishing Brandon were still around to make sense of his words.
My eyes turn back to the Cadillac. It moves a couple cars behind the taxi but it’s still in view. I can’t quite make out any physical traits in the driver’s face; he’s too far back and the windshield is too dirty. If the driver is following me, he’ll park outside my building or close enough to keep an eye on my movements.
I wonder how long I’ve been followed. Not before Genevieve and the showdown at Baucus Publishing. There wasn’t any need to keep an eye on me; my presence was well known everywhere I went.
I’m sure I must have been followed either after Moses’s goons abducted me or earlier today. It makes sense for the tail to have started following me today over any other day. I was too unpredictable after the heated altercation with Moses; had I been tailed, I might have shot a man. No, this morning would have been the best time to begin tailing me, when I was too emotional to notice.
The taxi pulls up to my apartment and I pay the cabby a handsome sum, more than I’ve paid a driver in a long time. He grins at me and drives off. I don’t watch for the Cadillac. It would either have driven by to not arouse suspicion, or it’s already parked and the tail is watching me from a distance.
I walk into my building, making sure my tail sees me enter. I take the stairs to my office, unlock the door, open it, and remove my overcoat and hat in a fluid motion. I hang them and walk to Genevieve’s desk. I pull out a file of names and telephone numbers and flip through them until I come across the name I’m looking for.
I pick up the horn and dial the number. The telephone rings a c
ouple times before a woman’s voice answers, “Doctor Grierson’s office.”
“Hi Peggy, it’s Detective Thomas Baxter. Is Fredrick in?”
“Fredrick? Yes, I’ll let him know you’re calling.”
I grin, knowing Peggy wouldn’t have a clue what I had in store for her employer. If she had, she would have told me he wasn’t available.
“What do you want, Baxter?” Fredrick snarls. His voice sounds as if he’d been gargling gravel all day.
“I got a job for you,” I say. “Something quick and easy.”
I hear Fredrick scoff. “What in the hell makes you think I’m going to do a damn thing for you? You agreed to leave me be.”
“After the stunt you pulled in the cemetery, you owe me.” I’m not playing around, nor do I have time to deal with the ex-grave robber’s ego. “One simple job, and then you’ll never hear from me again. I swear it.”
Fredrick sighs, and I hear him curse. “What’s the job?”
“An autopsy.”
“An autopsy?”
“Yes, a simple autopsy. I want you to determine the cause of death of a certain cadaver.”
I can hear the grunts of confusion and frustration on the other end.
“Why do you want me on an autopsy?” he asks. “There are plenty of good doctors in Red City capable of it. Many much better equipped than I am.”
I grin. He can’t see it, but I’m sure he can hear it in my voice. “Because none of them owe me a favour. Plus, your hatred of me makes you more apt to be straight with me. If something isn’t on the up and up, you’re going to be sure to give it to me straight and not spare my feelings.”
“Why would someone like you give a damn about some body? It’s just a job.”
“It’s actually quite personal for me,” I say. “The stiff is my brother.”
There’s a long silence on Fredrick’s side. I almost believe he’s hung up before he says, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t suppose you did. The fact is, I’m suspicious of how he died, and I need someone impartial to perform the autopsy.”
“Okey, I’ll do it.”
“Thank you. Come to my office to pick up a photograph of my brother. I wouldn’t put it past them to switch the bodies and have you cut open someone different.”
“Where will I find him?”
“He’s kept in the small morgue in the Red City Mental Institution.”
“The asylum?” Fredrick asks, his voice frustrated. “Jesus, Baxter. Are there any other useful tidbits I should know? Something else to make me second guess doing this?”
“No, that should be all.”
Fredrick doesn’t need to know about the double people and the mystery around them. That sort of information is likely to get him killed. Doing the autopsy wouldn’t do anything more than make Fredrick believe a person can drop dead from something he can’t identify; maybe a new poison or a fast-acting sickness. The worst it can do is panic the man.
“When do you want the autopsy done?”
“As soon as you’re available to do it.” I don’t give him a pause to reply. “By no means take time off your practice to do this. You have your job to do as well. This is an after-hours sort of deal.”
“I’ll call them later to let them know I’m coming. I’m sending Peggy to get the photograph.”
“No,” I say. “It has to be you. I have my reasons. Don’t call them either. I’ll let them know you’re on your way after you pick up the photograph.”
There’s a short pause on his end. “You really don’t trust them?”
“No, I don’t.”
Fredrick sighs and coughs. “Anyone ever tell you you’re a frustrating man to work with?”
I snicker. “Almost every client or copper I’ve worked with. I’ll see you later today.”
I give him my address and the room number three rooms to the right and a floor up. He agrees to meet with me, and I hang up the horn.
I have many reasons for sending Doctor Fredrick Grierson to do the autopsy that has nothing to do with the favour he owes me. Nobody in the city knows he owes me a favour, and other than the brief encounter in the graveyard where I’d caught him digging up bodies, there’s no connection between us. Whoever is behind the second Howard, the second Helen, and whatever change Moses went through, they won’t have any idea who I plan on sending until they’re on their way. It would be impossible for them to prepare for his arrival other than to keep things on the level.
I stand and walk to the window facing the front of the building. Sure enough, the dark red Cadillac is still on the street and unsurprisingly occupied. I let the man in the car see me without letting him know I saw him, and I go back to my office. The tail should know with my appearance in the window that he’s been made. To his credit, he doesn’t leave. There’s a job to do and he must do it right.
I can’t say why exactly he’s staying on me, but I don’t dwell on the question. It’s obvious enough they want to keep tabs on my whereabouts and see if anyone comes up to my office, which is the reason I gave Fredrick the wrong room number. The tail won’t be able to see me exit my office if I keep to the far end of the room, but he’d notice if I had company. Newcomers won’t know enough to stay out of view of the window and drawing the shades would be too suspicious.
I lean back in my chair, take a drink of hooch and light a cigarette. I can’t go anywhere; the tail would only follow, and I can’t have the doubles know what I’m up to just yet. They’ll figure it out eventually. But if I can keep it from them for a time, it should be enough to get the upper hand.
I grab a novel I’d been planning to read for a while and spend my afternoon drinking, smoking and being engrossed in the mysteries only solvable by a brilliant Belgian detective.
***
The sun begins to set as I stand and shake the slight buzz from my head. I’m on the line between drunk and sober. I yawn and move toward my bedroom, being careful to naturally disappear from the window view.
I slide along the wall toward the lobby and my front door. I exit and rush toward the stairs, racing up the steps to the apartment where I told Fredrick to meet me.
I don’t stand in front of the door; it would look a little strange to passersby, more so than a man just standing in the halls with a photograph in his hands.
I don’t have to wait long before the tall bald man exits the elevator. “Thank you,” he says to the attendant and turns to stare at me.
“Why do I get the impression this isn’t your floor?” Fredrick asks.
“Because you’re sharper than you look,” I say. “This is my brother. Do not let anyone see that you have it, and don’t let anyone in on what you’re doing. You’re just performing a simple autopsy, and that’s all.”
“Is there anything in particular I should be looking for?”
I nod. “Any organ damage that looks out of the ordinary. The Mental Institute says they suspect an aneurysm.”
“And you have your doubts.”
“I not only have my doubts that you’ll find anything resembling an aneurysm, but I doubt you’ll find a cause of death at all.”
Fredrick’s face contorts. “There’s no need to get mean about it.”
“No slight intended,” I say. “I’m saying that there won’t be a cause of death. His body will seem to have just dropped for no reason at all. Look everywhere, test for poisons, do what you need to rule out any or all causes of death you can think of.”
“Simple autopsy?”
“Like I said, after this, you won’t hear from me again. You go your way, and I’ll go mine. Capiche?”
Fredrick looks like he wants to back out, the grimace on his face telling me so. But then he nods. “Yeah, all right.” He takes the photograph of Brandon and walks toward the elevator. “I’ll call you when I’m done.”
I shake my head. “I might not be home. When you’re finished, slide me a note and I’ll come to see you. What you find might be too sensitive to say
over the telephone.” I give him my actual office number. He looks at me with confused worry. “Also,” I continue, “don’t let on that anything is going on. You can look confused, but just shrug it off if nothing comes up.”
Fredrick frowns and shrugs. “All right, fine.”
He turns and enters the elevator. I turn and take the stairs. I don’t much care for elevators; they require a person to run them, and if anything goes wrong, it’s a fast long shaft to your end. The stairs are safer and help keep a man healthy.
I enter my office and grab my jacket and hat. I have a man to visit and to give a piece of my mind to. If Moses killed my brother or is in any way responsible for his death, he won’t be sucking air much longer.
I walk out to the street and toward the red Cadillac. I don’t make myself obvious at first, looking in the other direction, almost as if I’m just crossing the street. Once I get close, I don’t hide my intentions anymore. I knock on the window and motion for him to roll down his window. He does.
“Can I help you?” he asks.
He’s a young-looking man. His face is covered in dark stubble.
“Yeah, I believe you can,” I say, a grin forming on my face. “Take me to your boss. I need to have some words with him.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man’s eyes widen, and I realize he’s not much more than a boy, likely not even twenty. I place my hand on my piece and show him I’m carrying.
“I believe you do. If you don’t want trouble, you’re going to do as I say.”
“You’re making a big mistake, pally.”
“The only mistake was agreeing to tail me. Now, are we going to have trouble, or are you going to follow orders?”
His eyes move down to my heater, and I can see the gears turning. Soon he nods and says, “Get in.”
Dead Man Walking Page 13