“So, once upon a time there was a dead man walking," I said, "except he ain’t dead: he’s in two places at the same time. Here, and keeping a healthy temperature down at the local stiff-box.”
“Who knows, you get down there and give yourself a little kiss, might wake yourself up,” Lloyds said in an easy-going tone, but his face was still tight with wariness. “True love and all,” he added.
“Messy,” I said, the inside of my mind crackling dangerously like an electrical fire. I had dealt with my fair share of monstrous mysteries during my stint here as a spook detective in New Seattle, but never anything quite as strange as this.
“You saw the scene then. You got an idea as to what happened?” I asked.
“Nothing I’d be willing to put down in an official report,” Lloyds replied. “You’re the one that deals with the freak shows. My best bet? A long lost-twin, jealous and vengeful ‘cause your parents cradled the wrong kid onto the curb and took a bullet that was meant for you.”
“And your second-best?”
Lloyds shrugged and even in the near-dark I could see the dandruff snow down from his heavy-set shoulders.
“Commie science,” he said conspiratorially. “I read in the papers a while back they managed to make a frog out of a baby out in Pennsylvania. Cloning they called it, said they’d be able to make doubles out of people soon enough, called ‘em replicas. And if some posey-plucking college whizz-kids can do it, well, I don’t see why Ivan couldn’t have figured out a way to do it, too.”
“Is that what you think? That Red’s smart enough to come up with a way to make a frog-man double out of me? Then what, they blew my skull to puzzle-pieces while I was outta town?”
“I think,” Lloyds leaned in towards me, the cherry-flare of his cigarette casting his features into a mask of suspicion, “that those Commies are desperate to get their hands on some of our science after the war, seeing as how it was our tanks and guns that saved their world from the Krauts.”
I thought about it, weighing the possibility of it all.
“Sounds flimsier than a watered down drink,” I said after a moment, glancing up at the precinct’s ravenous window, “and something tells me that you’d bet it all on Red on this one. If you’re thinking that they offed the real Paixley up in my office and that I’m some Soviet kook, you’ve been cooking with too many fumes in that dingy little apartment of yours.”
My tone of voice fell on all fours, down to a threatening prowl. “So if I hear any of that leave your lips, you better be prepared to lose them.”
I’d only taken a dime’s worth of drags from my Cocky, but the taste it left behind in my mouth was sour to the point of poison. I crushed the rest of it beneath my heel, my hands digging into my coat pockets as I leveled Lloyds a dangerous stare.
“I haven’t had a shower in three days. If that number gets up to four solely because you couldn’t wait another day for an open casket viewing, your body’s going to be taking up space on the slab next to mine down at the morgue. Now show me what you’ve got for me.”
Lloyds held my gaze for a few tense moments, as if he was judging my words beyond just the merit of their meaning. Then he nodded and I could see some of the tension leave his face.
“Had to make sure,” he said, half-apologizing, half-dismissive.
“Better be sure by now. What gave it away?”
“No Commie bastard could mimic that subtle charm of yours.”
“When they use the phrase ‘red-blooded American’, they’re talking about me.”
Lloyds let out a sound that was halfway between a choked grunt and a laugh, the sound of it like sandpaper against my eardrums.
“As far as the city of New Seattle is concerned, you’re viewing the world from behind permanently closed eyelids and any change to that fact is going to start drawing eyes. And you know what they say about that. You turn heads in New Seattle…”
“You best be prepared to lose your own,” I finished for him. “Got it.”
“Considering someone’s already rubbed you out once,” continued Lloyds, “it might be best we keep any rumors of you still breathing between just the two of us.”
“Going to be hard. I haven’t exactly been a cheap-skate with showing my mug.”
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Who else knows?” asked Lloyds.
I thought back on the people that saw me tonight.
“Just two,” I said. “Vanruyt, my landlord, and Mrs. Flick, who lives on my floor. She saw me coming up the stairwell.”
“You mean that batty old hag from apartment #23?”
“That’s the one. Take it you’ve kissed?”
Lloyds grimaced. “Like the French,” he said, then dug inside of his coat, producing a file that he waved around as he spoke.
“This is why I told you we needed to meet. I mentioned the Italians might have been involved in offing you, which scared the brass something fierce. I’ve more than a hunch that they’re involved in that racket. Captain told me to keep it clean and stop sniffing around too much.”
Lloyds tapped his drink-engorged nose as he handed me the file.
“Lucky for you I’ve had a bad case of clogged sinuses lately. Hard to get the stink out these days.”
“Like wine on a bride’s whites,” I replied knowingly, looking down at the folder of my murder in my hand. It was depressingly thin and yet it felt heavy in my hands, as if there was more weight to it than its mere physical properties could accurately convey.
“That’s the only writeup. Brass didn’t allow me to make any copies,” said Lloyds. “I think they want to accidentally lose it sometime soon, so I’ll need it back tonight.”
“Can’t have things go missing without permission at the NSPD,” I said as I began reading through its contents.
--
At 1052 PM July 9th, dispatch received a call reporting the discovery of what the caller assumed to be a dead body (Person 1) at 165 NW 153rd St, apartment #21. Caller identified himself as Robert Vanruyt (Person 2), manager of the residence and landlord of the victim. Officers Carlyle and Jacobson were dispatched from the New Seattle Southwest precinct to interrogate and survey the potential crime scene, arriving on location at 1109 PM. After securing the area and confirming the presence of a dead body, officers took Vanruyt’s statement. What is stated is in summary and should not be considered verbatim:
Vanruyt reported going to the victim’s domicile at approximately 1030 PM July 9th over an issue with late rent payment. He knocked on the door, receiving no response. Vanruyt proceeded to enter the domicile using a master key. Vanruyt claims he did this to leave a note for the victim. Upon entry, Vanruyt turned on the light and made immediate note of the excessive blood pooled on the floor, though he claims he was unable to see the body as vision was obstructed by the victim’s desk. Immediately suspecting foul play, Vanruyt proceeded to immediately leave the apartment to contact the police.
Upon preliminary examination of the domicile, officers Carlyle and Jacobson recognized the domicile to be the scene of a crime as they discovered the body of Person 1 and called for immediate backup. Sergeant Lloyds (Homicide and Narcotics) was off-duty nearby and responded to the call, arriving within minutes on the scene. Upon arrival, Sergeant Lloyds affirmed the presence of a dead body and charged officers Carlyle and Jacobson with securing the premises.
Examination of the crime scene was cursory due to [REDACTED], with several [REDACTED] being found on the victim’s [REDACTED]. The victim’s body was quickly identified to be that of the forty-seven years-old Salvatore Paixley, a local private investigator. Alcohol and drinking glasses suggest the victim had been drinking alone at or around the time of his death. Cause of death was a singular gunshot through the front of his head, entering anterior and below the left eye. No bullet remains were found on the premises, indicating the bullet was likely still lodged inside the victim’s skull.
Investigation of the domicile itself indicated the likely cause of death to be suicide, as all the windows were closed and the door locked from within, but upon further interviewing Vanruyt amended his original statement to include the fact that he closed an open window in his original foray inside the domicile. When asked about this, Vanruyt indicated he closed this on account of a heavy draft.
Of interest was the state of the safe located in the corner of the domicile which was found to be open and unlocked. Any semblance of money or valuables appeared to be missing, although a collection of war memorabilia and an as-of-yet unidentified manuscript were found within. Cursory examination of the victim's body revealed the presence of a concealed and loaded gun within the victim's coat pocket, identified as a Nagant M1895, a Russian small arms revolver. As the victim was a veteran of the war, it is believed he may have brought it back as a souvenir. The weapon appeared to not have been fired in some time, excluding it as a potential weapon used in the scene of the crime. At this point, Sergeant Lloyds entertained the possibility of a homicide, with robbery as a potential motive.
The state of the decomposing body and documents present in the domicile suggest that the likely date of death was July 4th, although [REDACTED] with which the [REDACTED]. Questioning the victim’s neighbors, they reported to have neither heard nor seen any sign of unusual disturbances that could not have been attributed to the city-sanctioned usage of fireworks until past the time of midnight on said date.
The last person to report seeing the victim alive was a local resident in the building by the name of Anne Goodie (Person 3), who mentioned having seen the victim sometime around 0800 PM during the evening of July 4th. Goodie reported to have met the victim in the stairwell as she was descending the stairs and he ascending, indicating that he was likely en route to his domicile.
--
The rest of the report was little more than the remnants of a further fairytale gone bad. The redacted sections were the work of someone told to paint a layer of ignorant-white over dark details: Lloyds being ordered by the brass to keep it clean. The last thing that caught my eye was a physical description of the body.
Male, 5’11, age-range 40-50, with gray-black hair and brown eyes. Medium build.
I thought back to the silhouette drawn in chalk on the floor of my office.
No wonder it looked familiar.