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.”

The Grotesque Corpse - Chapter 1

The Gryphon Occult Library

Sage Marlowe wore her heart on a gold chain around her neck. Every so often, she would dig it out from beneath her shirt collar and fondle it while glancing around the library.

Edgar Carson had been watching her. He had been coming to the library to browse the books for the past two weeks. He closed the book that he had been reading and walked over to the library desk.

“Are you ready to check out a book?”

“No, but I do have a question...”

Before he could finish, the librarian interrupted. “You really don’t want to ask that question.”

“I don’t?” Edgar placed the book that he had been reading on the counter. “Then, I’d like to check out this book.”

Sage looked at the title before scanning the book out. “I need your driver’s license.”

Edgar reached into his pocket, retrieved his wallet, dug out the card, and handed it to her. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask for a credit card.”

Sage placed the license into a scanner, copying the information into the computer, before handing it back to her. “Three weeks. Loan times are based on the number of pages in the book. And we always get them back. We know where you live.”

Her use of “we” made Edgar raise an eyebrow. He had not seen anyone else working in the occult library.

“And by ‘we’, I mean me. I’ll see you in three weeks, if not sooner.”

Edgar had been visiting the Library since his last case. He was certain that the librarian lived above the library in one of four apartments in the two upper floors. He hadn’t checked out which apartment was hers, but he knew it had to be one of them. She rarely left the building. As he walked to his car, he glanced at the book that he had checked out. It was a compendium of dragon myths. He shook his head. “Why did I pick out a book on dragons?” he muttered aloud.

It was late when the last customer left the Gryphon Occult Library. Edgar had waited in his car pretending to read the book that he had checked out earlier. He watched as the librarian locked the door, closed the blinds, and turned out the light. He waited for her to leave the library and head upstairs. She didn’t. His curiosity was seriously piqued.

Sage Marlowe had questions of her own. She called up the file on The Compendium of Legendary Dragons and printed out the image of the driver’s license. She looked up his address on the computer. It was a mixed-use building situated on a ley line, just as the library was. She was having second thoughts about not letting him ask his question. It might have led to an interesting conversation.

Sage pulled a second copy of The Compendium of Legendary Dragons off the shelf and placed its spine over the printout of the license. She spread apart the covers letting the pages fall aside randomly. Sage smiled as she ran her hand over the illustration on the page. Although drawn in the style of a woodcut, the colors were vivid. The green and gold of the dragon’s twisted body, coupled with the reds and purples of the maiden’s dress, lent a surreal quality to the depiction.

THE DRAGONET’S TALE

Once upon a time, in a kingdom by the sea, there lived a fair maiden. As she and her father were returning from a trip to a neighboring kingdom, a dragon soared high overhead. Suddenly, the dragon swooped down toward the royal party and grabbed one of the King’s colors. Fearing for his daughter’s safety, King Owain ordered the beast killed. A bowman took aim and brought the dragon down with an arrow. Curious about the dragon, young Olwen dismounted and ran to where it fell. Unafraid, she approached the small dragon, pulled out the arrow, and wrapped one of her scarves around the wounded leg. On her father’s orders, a guard pulled her away and took aim at the beast. Olwen stood between the bowman and the dragonet. After Olwen pled for the dragon’s life, the King relented and left the beast to recover.

Years later, the young dragon soared down the mountain toward the small kingdom by the sea. He landed on the rocky shore and assumed the shape of a young man clad in peasant garb. He searched the village of Tref Glanmôr for Olwen, often stopping to make an inquiry. “I’m looking for Olwen, daughter of My Liege. Have you seen her? Do you know where I might find her?”

Most of the villagers laughed at him, told him to hobble off somewhere else, or ignored him. An old man sitting outside his house felt sorry for the young man with the limp. “My Liege, you say? That’d likely be King Owain. Olwen would be the Princess.” He pointed his walking stick up the hillside. “They live in the castle up there. It’s a long hike. Let me give you a waterskin and a bit of bread for the journey.” The old man went inside his house and returned with the bread and water. “I’d come with you, but as you can see, I don’t walk as well as I used to.” He leaned in and winked, “Good luck, young man. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

A third of the way up the hillside, a farmer with a wagonful of food for the castle overtook him on the road. “Young man,” the farmer shouted, “I’ll give you a ride to the castle if you’ll agree to help me unload when we arrive.”

“Not only will I agree, kind sir, but I shall actually help you.” Dylan hobbled over to the wagon and climbed aboard. After arriving at the castle, Dylan kept his word and carried the baskets of food into the kitchen pantry. Unbeknownst to the farmer, a snake had crawled into one of the baskets. Dylan grabbed the snake mid-strike at it attacked one of the kitchen maids. He carried the struggling snake outside and hissed at it, “go away or I shall serve you to the kitchen staff.” It slithered away quickly toward the castle gate. Impressed by his quickness, the cook asked Dylan to stay on at the castle. It was an offer he could not refuse if he expected to find Princess Olwen.

Desiring to marry her off, King Owain held a grand reception where the surrounding kingdoms could present their eligible sons for consideration. The King hoped that one of the young royals would attract her attention. Wanting to outshine the other guests and win her favor, Dylan attended the ball wearing a coat of green and gold. He quickly won the King’s favor with his polite affability, but the Princess seemed indifferent to his presence. Nevertheless, he persisted in his attempts to gain her attention. It wasn’t until he refused to accept a challenge from another suitor that she turned her head. “I have nothing to prove to you. Unless the Princess commands such a challenge, I see no need to participate in such childish behavior.”

“Then you admit to being a coward?” Prince Bran taunted.

“Better to be thought a coward than to be proved a fool.”

The rival suitor removed one of his gloves and slapped Dylan in the face. “You shall face me on the morrow with swords. I shall prove myself the better man then.”

The young dragon smiled. “You shall prove yourself the fool, you mean.” He turned to the Princess, “Milady, I have no desire to shed blood to prove my worthiness. If you do not see me tomorrow, then you shall not ever see me.” He bowed to the King, “I take my leave now, my liege.”

The following morning, Bran appeared in the courtyard dressed in heavy armor ready to duel with Dylan. Dylan had gone back to wearing his servant garb and tending to Olwen’s needs while she and her father watched from the courtyard balcony. The day turned brutally hot. Dylan brought cool water to King Owain and Princess Olwen, while Bran began to bake inside the armor. As midday approached, Bran began to wobble until he eventually collapsed. Dylan rushed forward to remove his fallen foe’s helmet and squeeze some water into his parched mouth.

King Owain recognized Dylan as the charming prince from the ball, but said nothing to his daughter. “I have made a decision.” He stood up and faced the attendees. “My daughter shows no interest in any suitor. Thus, I have chosen for her. I shall send her to Cadarnle Mynydd to wed the Dragon Prince. I shall send her maidservant to attend to her needs during the journey. She shall be unguarded save for a trusted man chosen to accompany her.”

Later, as the Princess made preparations for her journey, King Owain called Dylan to the throne room. “I know who you are, young Dragon. Your limp gave you away. I was impressed by your kindness. When you accompany my daughter tomorrow, you shall wear my colors dressed as a guard.”

“My liege, I had planned to leave at nightfall.”

“My child cherishes kindness of spirit above all else. You have garnered her attention as you have gained my trust. She will brood for much of the journey, but she will come to her senses one way or another.”

And so, it was that the band of three left the castle in the morning. The climb up to Cadarnle Mynydd would take several days, becoming more hazardous as they approached the dragon stronghold. They spent their first night at a wayside inn near the edge of the kingdom. Olwen and her maidservant shared a room in the inn, while Dylan spent the night with the horses in the barn keeping a watchful eye on the place where his beloved slept. The night passed without incident. The following day’s journey would take them through a forest. Dylan kept close to Olwen as they made their way through the woods. Emerging into a large clearing, they paused to rest the horses and eat some bread that Dylan had brought with him from the inn. At the edge of the forest, they made camp for the night. While the others slept, Dylan removed the King’s colors, leaving them in a neat pile topped by his helmet and sword at the edge of the camp. He resumed his dragon form and flew on ahead to procure safe passage for the trip through the hazardous mountain passages.

In the early morning hours, a small dragon swooped down the mountainside and landed not far from the encampment. Olwen met him wielding the sword that he had left behind. “I’m not afraid of you,” she shouted at the dragon. “Come no closer.” The dragon lowered its head and shifted its form to that of a young man. “Who are you?” she demanded.

He approached the camp slowly with his hands raised. “I intend you no harm,” he stepped slowly into the light of the campfire.

“It’s you,” she gasped, lowering the tip of the sword. He stepped toward her. She backed away, raising the sword again. “What have you done with my guard?”

“Nothing, my lady. I am he, as commanded by King Owain, who rides by your side.” Pulling her scarf from inside his sleeve, he continued. “I am also he whose life you spared many years ago.”

“Why did you not tell me?”

“I dared not speak of it as a servant in your kingdom. I had hoped to impress you at the Royal Gala.”

Olwen tossed Dylan’s sword onto the pile of his royal garb and rushed toward him, knocking him to the ground and falling on top of him. “Marry me,” she murmured.

“Your father has already given his blessing.”

Upon their return, King Owain announced her betrothal to Prince Dylan and a royal wedding followed. The couple cemented the peace between Cadarnle Mynydd and Tref Glanmôr for generations to come.

THE END

“Such a pity that it’s a bad translation, don’t you think?”

Edgar Carson had entered the closed library through a back door and has crept up behind Sage. He had been careful to make as little noise as possible, but his presence hadn’t escaped her notice. “What is?” he replied.

“The Dragonet’s Tale. From the book you checked out.”

“Oh,” Edgar reached for the book and looked over the illustration. “I’d hadn’t been paying much attention to it.”

Sage retrieved the book. “You already checked out a copy. One per patron.” She walked the book over to the shelf and slid it carefully in place. “Why are you back? Obviously not to return the borrowed book.”

“Your back door was open.”

“Yes, I know. I’m expecting company.”

“Anyone I know?” Edgar started shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Sage smiled. “You’ll have to decide that for yourself.” She shut down the computer and the desk lamp. He followed her into the back room where a tall woman was busy examining a box of newly arrived books. Edgar closed the door behind him and stared at the woman’s long black hair as it swished about her waist. Sage walked over to the desk and embraced her warmly.

The woman whispered into Sage’s ear, “I see that you brought me a snack.”

Sage whispered back, “He’s not on the menu.”

“Pity, he looks delicious,” the Asian female hissed.

“Who’s your friend?” Edgar stepped toward the two women.

The pale Asian approached Edgar, extending her left arm, exposing the back of her hand to him. “Maya Lee,” she said with a wide smile.

“Edgar Carson,” he replied wrapping his fingers around hers and gently shaking her arm.

“You don’t get out much, do you, Edgar?”

“Pardon?”

“Nevermind.” Maya turned back to Sage. “Do you have what I came for?”

“Yes. It wasn’t easy to find. But I was able to convince the possessor of the item to part with it. He and his fellow Goths had no idea what they had in their possession. You really need to guard your memoirs more carefully.”

“Memoirs?” Edgar’s eyes widened.

“The diary was stolen,” Maya replied, “by someone that I made the mistake of trusting. I asked Sage to recover it for me. She’s a whiz at finding lost objects.”

“She’s a wizard?” Edgar’s brow narrowed.

“No, she’s just really good at finding things.” Maya set the book in her hand down on the desk.

“Oh,” he replied sinking into a nearby chair. Edgar tapped his temple a few times. “You wouldn’t happen to be Doctor Maya Lee from the Medical Examiner’s Office, would you?”

“That would be a yes,” Sage answered from behind the desk.

“You’re the private investigator from the Langley kidnapping, aren’t you?” Maya leaned against the desk.

“Yes,” he straightened up, “and your friend is the woman who led police to the kidnap victim.”

“Like I said,” Maya laughed, “Sage has a talent for finding things.”

Sage handed a shipping envelope to Maya. “I hope you don’t mind that I read it. I slept through that particular century.”

Maya laughed. “I’d be worried if you hadn’t.”

“Century?” Edgar rose out of the chair. “Ah, that’s a joke, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Edgar,” Maya winked at Sage. “You don’t mind if I call you Edgar, do you?” Maya walked over to Edgar and extended her hand. When he took it, she pulled him in close and hissed, “Go home Edgar. It’s been a long day and you are tired. Tomorrow, you’ll read the book you borrowed and then return it to the library.”

“Yes, you’re right. It has been a long day. I should go home. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ms. Marlowe.” He hurried out the back door.

“You should have asked him to leave sooner. He’ll be full of questions tomorrow,” Sage sighed.

Maya smiled. “Yes, but you won’t be here.”