Are you wondering how it ends?
You can find out here: The Grotesque Corpse
Short stories with a mix of genres, including fantasy, horror, and science fiction, written by me.
As Sage walked out of the museum, her phone rang. “You eaten
yet?” the caller asked. Sage stared at the phone for a second. The tinny voice
continued, “It’s me. Edgar Carson. You know, the guy you hired to dig into
Scott Casey. I was thinking we could meet over dinner, discuss the case, get a
tax deduction, so?”
“Fine, where?”
“I’m at the Pajama Lounge. I’ve got a regular table. You’re
gonna love the steak. And what they do to their potatoes is just amazing. How
soon can you get here?”
“I’m across town. A half hour on the outside.” She hung up
on him and dialed Maya. “I need a ride across town. Carson called to invite me
to dinner. Do you have plans? It’s a business dinner, but it’s at the Pajama
Lounge and I don’t want to walk in there alone.”
The drive across town was quiet at first as Maya wove her
way through rush hour traffic. Finally, she asked the question that had been on
her mind since realizing that Sage had pushed her into chilling the corpse
without a physical autopsy. “He isn’t dead, is he?” Sage didn’t reply. “You
time-locked him, didn’t you? There is magic involved. Do you know what kind? I
mean, that is why you visited the museum and Nǎinai,
Isn’t it?”
“Yes. He’s still alive but in stasis. I don’t have much
time. If I can’t reverse the spell, I’ll have to let him die.”
“So, what’s the deal with the Pajama Lounge?”
“I’m meeting Edgar Carson there.”
“The P I? Careful he doesn’t ask you to strip for him.”
“That’s why you are going to be there. Safety in numbers.”
As Maya pulled into a parking space, Sage noted that the
place was busy, but not overly crowded. Passing through the bar to get to the
dining room was still akin to running the gauntlet. Both women managed to pass
through with a minimum of unwanted contact. Emerging into the main dining area,
Sage spotted Edgar sitting at a table midway between the kitchen and the stage.
The empty stage arced around the smattering of round tables set for dinner. The
five stripper poles glistened in the light of the flickering candles on the
tables. The dining room was surprisingly quiet in contrast to the loud roar in
the bar. Edgar stood up as Sage and Maya approached. “Ms. Marlowe, I see you
brought Dr. Lee with you. It’s nice to meet you again. Please, have a seat.
It’s all on Ms. Marlowe’s dime.”
Before Edgar could get down to business, the perky young server
arrived with the menus. “Keep ’em, doll. It’s steaks all around.”
The waitress turned to Sage and Maya, “Are you sure?” Sage
nodded, but Maya looked annoyed. She held out her hand for a menu, which the
server immediately handed to her. After browsing the items available, she
handed the menu back to the server.
“I’ll have the steak, rare. And substitute the wilted
spinach for the asparagus. My friend will have the same. And we’d like some
hard ciders to go with our meal.” Maya handed the menu back to the server and
winked at Sage
“Yes, ma’am,” the server replied before scurrying off to
place the orders in the kitchen.
“You are a strange man, Mr. Carson.” Sage remarked as she
unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap.
“Edgar, please, Mr. Carson was my father. Besides, I have a
feeling that we are going to be working together in the future.” Edgar snapped
his napkin before tucking a corner into his neck covering his rather expensive
silk tie.
“I don’t know about that.” Sage deftly flipped over her wine
and water glasses. “What did you dig up on Scott Casey?”
Tapping his fingers on a large manila envelope that he had
placed on the table earlier; he recited a summary of his findings. “Thirty-six.
Single. Works as a legal secretary – I guess they call them paralegals now –
for a downtown law firm. Never been in trouble until he bought and used a gun.”
Resting his hand on the envelope, Edgar continued his synopsis. “Parents moved
to Florida. He has a brother named Bell Casey, runs a local toy store, The
Wooden Soldier. You can’t miss the place; two big wooden soldiers stand outside
the door. Married, no kids. Neighbors haven’t seen him lately. He appears to be
a missing person.”
“I assume you’ll hand over the details after dinner.”
“I’ve been doing some digging into you, Ms. Marlowe. You
don’t seem to exist. There are no school records that check out. Nobody from
your high school or college remember you.”
“What can I say, I’m forgettable.”
“Not to me. The way you solved that kidnapping case baffles
me.”
“Fine. I confess. I’m psychic and in witness protection. Now
stop digging before you upset the Feds.”
“You’re not in witness protection. The Feds have never heard
of you. They said the break in the case came at the local level.”
“The police had a suspect in custody. They called me in to
help with the interrogation.”
“On a dead guy? How did you manage that?”
“What makes you think he was dead?”
“I’m the guy that shot him. He drew a gun on me; we
struggled; gun went off. I called the cops, but he was dead by the time the
EMTs showed up. The good doc here,” he nodded toward Maya, “came to pick up the
body. I followed along. You passed me in the hallway. I waited awhile. Next
thing I know, everyone is rushing off toward some old factory. Feds were there
with shovels and you were wandering around in a daze. You stop, yell “dig
here”, and they start digging like mad. Find the girl asleep in the box.
Seconds later, she’s up and asking for food. Doc here comments on how she’s a
smart girl and you hitch a ride with one of the cops back to the library.”
“Is that why you’ve been stalking me?”
“I want to know what happened in that morgue room.”
Sage sighed. She turned to Maya who shrugged. “Fine. The
brain doesn’t shut down right away. Even after heart and respiration stops,
it’s buzzes along. And even after the current flow stops there is a magnetic
field that doesn’t dissipate right away. If I can get to the body in time, I
can make a copy of that field. Sometimes the information is still viable –
sometimes it just isn’t there. We got lucky that his last thoughts were about
the kidnapped girl and what he did with her. I assume we have you to thank for
that. And yes, he was going to shoot you. He just didn’t expect your cat like reflexes
when he drew the gun on you.”
“Is that all it was?! I was expecting something a bit more
along the lines of you being some kind of necromancer, bringing him back from
the dead.”
“That daze you saw me in was me trying to hold on to his
last thoughts. Niome... Officer Baer took me home because the process is
exhausting and I really needed a nap.”
“You expect me to believe that you’re just some
run-of-the-mill normal psychic? I don’t buy it. Did you know that you can
search for photos nowadays? I ran a picture of you through the search engines
and came up with a photo of a Jane Doe from about ten years ago, found dead.
Also, matched the photo of a missing heiress from about fifty years ago. Most
of the older possible matches were a bit iffy due to poor photo quality and
fading in some cases. I even considered having your photo run through the
national archive of missing persons, but I figured it was less trouble to just
ask. Who the hell are you really?”
“Your client, at the moment. Did you bother to check out
your own image? I’m sure that if I did a search on your face, I’d get all sorts
of crazy hits. I’ve no control over who I may resemble any more than you do.”