The Grotesque Corpse - Chapter 5

5: The Pajama Lounge Bar & Grille

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.”