"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis" -- Chapter Nine

Serial time!
I've been lazy with the posts, but not any more. Let's do this. Every Friday, until the end.

This story has made me realize that I love this character, that he's worth writing about, and that my best ideas have come from following his lead. Best, most interesting ideas. So he's getting his own book, maybe for my next NaNoWriMo project.

The McGuffin... It’s only value is what it could become.

Here is where the story leans heavily on "The Maltese Falcon." You get characters and plots right from the original story, but with the supernatural twist. I love this. Unabashed fan fiction and pure fun.

Enjoy,
LLH

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8 
 

"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"

By L.L. Heberlein

(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)

CHAPTER NINE:

I’m not sure what had possessed me, but I wore a suit to Mr. McGuffin’s. It turned out it was the right thing to do.

McGuffin’s place was a castle. Not a mansion or one of those mini-mansions they used to build, with twelve rooms and five baths for a family of four. No, this actually was a castle, built of stone and wood, filled with ancient tapestries and oriental rugs. I sat in the drawing room, as the butler had called it, and sipped very fine coffee from a delicate china cup. My old manners kicked in. Napkin over one knee. Cup held just so. McGuffin walked in, and I resisted the urge to bow and offered my hand instead.  

“Davis! So good of you to come,” McGuffin said. He was an older gentleman, but there’s no telling exactly how old in the circles I run in. Maybe he was a human, pushing 80 years old. Maybe he was some sort of ancient supernatural who only appeared that way. Either way, he was older-looking, pleasantly plump, with a scruff of white hair at the temples and nothing on top. He wore thin glasses with those space-aged lightweight frames that you just knew were really expensive. His suit was gray tweed, and probably something he wore every day.

I liked him right away. He had that sort-of old fashioned charm and sensibility that makes you feel like everything is in its place, just as it should be.

He sat across from me in a huge chair closest to the fireplace. He smiled, hands in his lap, looking at ease. “Now, let us get right to brass tacks, shall we?” he said. “Have you the item in question?”

“Well,” I coughed a bit and readjusted myself on the couch. “It’s like this. I don’t exactly have the item at this moment.”

“You don’t?” The smile fell from his face, replaced with a look of concern.

“No. Well, I mean… I still have the item, I just didn’t bring it with me.”

“Didn’t bring it with you!” He sat on the edge of his chair. “Good god, man! Why ever not?”

Truth? I didn’t trust this guy. I didn’t trust anyone in this. Not McGuffin, not the lizard guy, and not Clara. The situation was all messed up, and I had too many questions.

“I need some answers, Mr. McGuffin,” I said. “This thing… the Eris Stone, you called it. What is it?”

“Why, the Eris Stone is…” he spread his hands, “it’s everything!”

I squinted. “Could you be more specific?”

“I’m afraid not, my boy,” he said. “The Eris Stone is not easily defined. It is, in some cases, a very powerful object. In some hands, it’s absolutely useless. But, nevertheless, the stone has a value that is inestimable. It must be returned to its rightful place, in my collection, where it can do no more harm.”

“No more harm?” I asked. “What does this thing do?”

McGuffin rose from his chair and walked toward the fire. “It’s not what the object can do, Davis, so much as what people will do for this object. Violence, death. Wars have begun over such things as these. I’m beginning to regret having ever created it.”

“You created it? But it’s a stone. How could you create it? Do you mean you carved it?”

“No, Davis,” he said. “I created it.”

I shook my head. “Why? I still don’t get what this thing does.”

“On its own, virtually nothing.” McGuffin gestured toward the clock on the fireplace mantel. “Do you see this clock, Davis? This clock is made of a series of bits and bobs, springs and wires and little cogs, all working together. Ask what one piece does on its own, and the answer is it does virtually nothing. But together….” He checked the time on his wristwatch, then adjusted the mantel clock. “Together, they spin and whir and keep the time of day, setting the activities of mankind in motion. When to eat, when to sleep, to wake, to work. They do amazing things together, do they not?”

“So what you’re saying is the Eris Stone is some piece of some bigger thing? A cog in the wheel?”

“Yes, my boy! Exactly! The Eris Stone is only a piece. It’s only value is what it could become.” He walked over to the little table in the corner that held the tray with the coffee service, and poured himself a cup. “Would you care for a refill?”

“Yes, please,” I said, and brought over my cup and saucer. “So where’s the rest of the pieces?”

“Ah! Good question!” McGuffin said. “The rest of the pieces are in hiding. I have them secured, far away from where anyone or anything can find them. They only await the return of the Eris Stone to be complete.” He took my cup and filled it from the matching china coffee pot.

“What is it they become when they’re complete?” I asked, accepting the refilled cup.

“Now, Davis, it’s my turn to have a few questions answered,” McGuffin said, gesturing toward the couch. “Let us sit and discuss things. Where is the stone now?”

“Safe,” I said, taking a sip. “I put it somewhere safe.” The coffee tasted funny. I can’t say how, maybe a bit more bitter than it had just a while ago. I looked down into my cup. It looked the same, except for an oily sheen on top. I didn’t take sugar, or cream. Something was different. I put the cup down.

I watched McGuffin’s eyes go from the cup, to my face, then back to the cup. “Is it at your home?”

“Yep,” I said, deciding I’d play along. “It’s… at home. Safe.” I blinked a few times and shook my head vigorously. I slumped on the couch a bit, sat up straight again, and slumped again. “I locked it in the desk. No one can get at it there.”

“Oh good!” McGuffin said, watching me with intense interest. “And where’s the key?”

“Key?” I slurred. My head bobbed a few times. “Keysss on the dessskk, unner the blotter.” My head drooped. My eyes shut. I relaxed my whole body and slumped into the couch. My mouth fell open, and air flowed easily, slowly. Little noises rolled out of my nose.

McGuffin rose, and kicked my shins, hard. My body fell forward off the couch. I smacked into the coffee table on the way down and heard the crash as the china cup fell to the floor.

He kicked me again. “Stupid git.” I heard his footsteps across the rug. The door opened, then shut. I waited another beat or two before opening my eyes. I was alone in the room.

“I’m stupid?” I whispered to myself. I stood up, straightening my suit, adjusting my tie. “I’m not the one trying to slip a mickey to a dead guy.” Whatever drug he’d given me had no effect on me. I don’t metabolize drugs that way anymore. I can’t even get drunk. Not even the caffeine in the coffee affects me the way it should. It’s just the demon that loves it.

I searched the room for a moment, looking through desk drawers and over bookshelves, trying to find anything that would help me piece all this together. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I didn’t know what I was looking for, in any case. Maybe I’d know it when I saw it? The only things that even piqued my interest were a few sheets of paper with what looked like Chinese writing on them. They looked recent, not unlike the shipping invoice the lizard guy had. I shoved the paper in my pocket, then took a second to pat my breast pocket. Yep, the Eris Stone was still there. Talk about not trusting people. I had to find a real hiding place for this thing, before something else happened.