Arizona was lovely. I can imagine living there. Retiring there. Writing there. Sigh...
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| Monsssieur? |
ANYWAY, here I am, back with this week's serial installment. And here we get to my Peter Lorre character. I love this guy. He's just so fabulous. I'll admit, I loved him so much, I let him run away with a lot of the story. He just MADE the story for me, in a way.
I think, in following the formula of an already established story (the Maltese Falcon), it made me create characters I wouldn't have otherwise created, and work with plot points I don't think I'd have come up with on my own. The Monsieur is one of them.
Enjoy,
LLH
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
"The Demented Non-Life of Jefferson Davis"
By L.L. Heberlein
(copyright 2015, all rights reserved)
CHAPTER SEVEN:
I sprinted for my basement apartment, flew down the stairs, and hit the bottom landing. The little package was crammed sideways in the mail slot. I pulled it out and ripped into the blood-soaked paper.
Inside the box was a carved stone object, about as big as the palm of my hand. It was small enough to slip into a jacket pocket, but it felt like it weighed a ton. More than you’d expect. I clicked on a lamp and held it up to the light. Veins of white and black ran through the purple stone. The carvings across the top looked to be in some sort of language, or code, but nothing I’d ever seen before. And the top, or what I figured for the top, was concave, like it had been carved smooth. It looked like something else belonged in that spot in the stone.
What was this thing?
Obviously it had some magical power, or Clara the vampire wouldn’t have thought it was so valuable. I’m not a magic user, so the thing was of no real value to me, except delivering it to Clara and collecting my fee.
But why had Horseface been holding it?
I sat on my couch and turned the object over in my hand, thinking. India said I’d have it today, and here it was. How did it get here, though? Why did John have it? Did someone kill him for it? If so, why was it in his hands when I found him?
And why hadn’t I just turned it over to the authorities?
Well, I knew that answer. I’d been hired to do a job. It was important for me to follow through.
More importantly, I needed the money. John had debts, and death was no excuse. Barry would come looking for his money, and someone would have to pay. If John wasn’t available, he’d turn to the next of kin. That would be Lucy.
I imagined all the terrible things Barry would do to Lucy, human girl or not. I swallowed a lump in my throat.
I ran through the scenario in my head. The package arrives. John figures it’s important, so he hides it in his desk. Then, what? Someone or something kills him. Why? For the package? Did someone come after it, and try to get it from him? Or did one of his creditors finally have enough?
I took a long, hot shower, and thought. I should deliver this thing right away, just in case whatever killed John came back for me. For whatever reason, John was dead. I didn’t want to be the next thing torn to pieces around here.
I got dressed, this time in dark jeans and a nice button-up shirt, deep blue. My shredded skin was already healed; one of the benefits of living with this demon inside. I pulled out a nice wool jacket, something appropriate for November, and thought about how I missed my leather jacket. I dropped the stone in my jacket pocket and went back upstairs to make a phone call.
“Where the hell have you been!” All the smokiness was gone from Clara’s voice. “You were supposed to make it back last night.”
“Yeah, well, about that,” I said. “It seems the package was impossible to pick up last night. Magically impossible. I couldn’t even get it until today. You set me up.”
“I did no such thing!” she shouted into the phone. “You’re just incompetent.”
“So does that mean you don’t want it?”
There was a pause, then, “You have it?”
“Yep. I’ve got it right here.”
Another pause, then, “Did you open it?”
“Sure,” I said. “You want me to describe it to you?”
“Yes, please,” she said. “What does it look like?”
I described the stone to her in fine detail. I could hear her breath speed up on the other side of the line. “I want that stone, right now. Bring it to me.”
“Well, now. Hold on here,” I said. This had potential. “I had quite a bit of trouble getting this object. The job took more than I had anticipated. How about we talk about my fee?”
“You’ll get what’s owed to you, Davis,” she hissed.
“Double,” I said. “I want double what you promised.”
“Agreed,” she said. “Now bring it here, immediately.”
“Not a problem,” I said, and hung up. I turned around, and jumped. There was a man there. And I say “man”, though it was more like a giant lizard in a trench coat and fedora. “Jezuz!”
“Monsieur Davisssss,” the thing hissed through sharp teeth. “Monsieur Davissss, don’t give her zeee stone.”
“What the HELL are you?” I backed into the desk. The thing looked so unusual. Not so much scary as just weird. He was green and covered in little scales, but with eyes like a demon. And he hissed every word through those nasty pointy teeth, flicking a long pointed tongue like he was tasting the air. The hat and coat just made him look weirder.
“Forgeeev zee intrusssion, Monsieur Davissss. My name is Monsieur Von Clamp. And I have a propossssition for you.”
“What are you talking about? And how did you know my name?”
“Oh, I know who you are, Monsieur Davissss. You were hired by a Misssss Clara to retrieve a cccccertain package last night. I am correct in this, yessssssssss?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, yeah, sure. Clara hired me to do a job. How do you know that?”
“I know a great many things, Monsssieur Davissssss.” He kept drawing out the syllables, hissing. “You were hired under falsssssse pretenssssssses.”
“What do you mean?”
“That package, that cccccertain item. It never belonged to Missssss Clara,” the lizard man said. “It is my property, Monsieur Davissssss. And now I want it.”
“You want it, hu?” I sat back on the desk and crossed my arms. “Oh, yeah? You got proof it’s yours?”
“I do,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I have a packing slip here from China.”
The piece of paper was in Chinese. “Yeah, that’s not going to cut it. You have some other form of proof?”
His eyes rolled left and right, then all the way back in his head, turning his eyeballs pure white. “Why, no. That is all I have at the moment, Misssur Davisssss. But I do have something else that I believe will prove to you it isssssssssssss mine.”
“What?”
“Cassssssssssssh money, Monsieur Davis. Casssssssssssh money. I am prepared to pay you twiccccccce what Missssssss Clara offered.”
“Yeah?” I said. “So I just give you the stone, and you pay me, and then what? What I am supposed to tell my employer?”
“Why, anything you like!” He gestured with one tiny hand. A tiny hand with very long, very sharp claws. Claws that could easily tear a man to shreds and leave his office looking like a bloodbath. “Perhaps you could take the money right now, and leave for a while? Take a trip? Sssssssssssssee the sssssssssssssea?”
I laughed. “Right. And have a rich, powerful vampire after me for the rest of my unnatural existence? I don’t think so.”
The lizard man grabbed my arm and sunk claws in. “WHERE IS THE STONE! GIVE IT TO ME!”
“YEOW!” I flung the lizard across the room. He hit the wall and slid down, taking one of the framed art pieces with him.
Was this the guy who killed John? I wasn’t taking any chances. I started hurling things at him from the desk. Pens, a pad of paper, a large book called “Knowledge on the Study of Understanding.” The heavy thing clocked him on the head and sent him scurrying for the corner.
“Pleasssssssssssssse, Monsieur Davissssssssssss,” the thing hissed from its hiding place. “Pleaasssssssssssse stop throwing thingssssssss at me.”
I walked over to where the thing was cowering and stepped on its neck. “I should break you,” I said to the little lizard man. “I should crush you right now for what you did to my friend.”
His eyes got wide. “No, no no no! Did not doooooo it! Did not! Pleassssssssssse no, Monsieur Davisssss!”
“You ripped him apart! You killed him!” I shouted. My foot came down harder on his neck.
“No!” he croaked. “It…. wasn’t…. me!”
I thought about crushing him. Oh, I thought hard about it. I really wanted to. But, see, I spent too many years of my undead life being vindictive and cruel. Now I’m trying this Buddhist thing. Live and let live, and all that. The best thing to do, I decided, was to call the authorities.
I let up my foot, just a little, so the thing could breathe. “Oh thank you, Monsieur Davissssss! Thank you!”
“Yeah,” I said, grabbing the guy by the shoulders. “Don’t thank me yet.”
He was actually very tiny under that heavy trench coat. I strapped him to a wooden kitchen chair with duct tape. Lots of duct tape. I paid extra attention to his claws, both on his hands and his feet, so he couldn’t rip through the tape. I got his mouth, too, for good measure.
Tying him up was easy. A little too easy, in fact. It made me have second thoughts about him killing John. I mean, this thing was just a little guy, and Horesman was huge and pretty strong, even for a human. This thing didn’t seem to have any supernatural abilities beyond being able to stand upright and talk. For a lizard, he was doing great. But I was starting to doubt he could best John Horesman.
Schwartz said pretty much the same thing when he returned, black-leather posse in tow, to arrest the lizard man. “You think he’s responsible?”
I actually sighed. “I have no idea, sir,” I said. “I actually have no fucking clue. All I know is this lizard thing appeared out of nowhere and sunk claws into me.” I showed him the rip in the shoulder of my coat. “He’s got the claws to do it.”
“True,” Schwartz said. “But he’s just so… little.”
“You inssssssssssssult me, copper!” said the lizard man, after Schwartz removed the tape so he could be questioned. “Thisssssssssss is bullssssssssssssssshit! I want my lawyer!”
“What were you doing here, Mr. Von Clamp?”
“THAT’SSSSSS MONSSSSSSSSIEUR VON CLAMP!” Then he hissed a long, drawn-out snarl. “I will tell you nuzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzing! I want my lawyer!”
Schwartz looked calm, but you just knew he was growing impatient. He gestured, and two of his leather-clad posse picked up the lizard man, chair and all, and carried him away. “This makes even less sense, Davis,” he said as he was leaving. “I’m still watching you.”
I nodded, fingering the stone in my pocket. “I’ll let you know if anything else turns up.”
He shot me an icy look. “I will get to the bottom of this.”
“Yep,” I said, shutting the door.
I felt the stone again. I had to get rid of this thing before it got me in trouble. Why hadn’t I just come clean with it this time? Why didn’t I just hand it over to Schwartz, and wash my hands of this whole thing?
Oh, yeah. The angry vampire dame. The money. Barry.
The phone rang.
I debated not answering it. It wasn’t really my phone, it was John’s. I could be reached at this number, sure, but it felt wrong answering it.
It kept ringing.
The thought occurred to me that John would never again answer this phone.
My friend was dead. No one had told Lucy yet.
It rang again, and I answered it. A knot formed in my stomach. I just knew it’d be Lucy.
“Um…hello?” I said.
“Mr. Davis!” said a booming voice with a slight hint of a British accent. “I’ve reached you at last!”
“Hu?” I answered, very confused. “Who is this? How did you get this number?”
“You are a difficult man to reach, Mr. Davis. Difficult, I say, but not impossible.”
“It’s just Davis,” I said automatically. “Who are you?”
“My name, then, is just McGuffin,” he said. “Please, Davis, I must see you immediately on the most urgent business.”
“That might be a little difficult tonight,” I said. “There’s been a death in the family.”
“I understand, and I am well aware of your predicament.”
“You… how could you know… what do you know, exactly?”
“I know you have become entangled in a situation involving the Eris Stone,” he said. “You’ve probably also been offered a great deal of money. Believe me when I say, I am able to offer you much more.”
“McGuffin, is it?” I said. “Just what the hell is the Eris Stone, and who the hell are you?”
“All will be answered, Davis,” he said. “Come to my home tonight and all will be revealed.”
I checked the time on my watch. “That might not be possible tonight. I’ve got an errand to run, and a daylight restriction.”
“If this errand you speak of is regarding delivering the Eris Stone to Miss Clara, may I suggest against that?”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s not her property,” he said. “It is mine.”
“Right,” I said. “I’ve heard that before. Do you have some sort-of proof or something?”
“I can provide you with proof enough when you come over tonight. Plus payment for the stone, your troubles, and a little extra to make all these little issues worth your while.”
Worth my while? “You know, McGuffin, my friend died tonight.”
“I am sorry to hear that, Davis,” he said. “My condolences. But perhaps my explanations will help bring some understanding to this awful circumstance.”
I weighed my options. “What about Clara?”
“Allow me to deal with Miss Clara for you,” he said. “After all, this really is all just a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding!” I shouted. “My friend is dead!”
“Again, my condolences, Davis. I truly am sorry that your friend had to die in the midst of all of this… silliness.” He said. “Come on over, I’ll pour you a cup of the finest Columbian coffee, French roasted, and we shall talk and clear the air.”
I took the stone out of my pocket and looked it over. “Tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll come tomorrow. I can’t make it tonight.”
“Very well,” he said. He gave me the address. Some place way out in Redmond, on the other side of the lake. I’d never make it there and back again before sunup, in any case. I wasn’t sleeping in a Dumpster again.
I hung up with the man, and got a really bad feeling about the whole thing. What did I have? Something everyone wanted. And suddenly everyone knew me, and knew way too much about me. Who was this McGuffin guy? Did he have anything to do with the French lizard… thing?
I still didn’t know why John was dead, or who had killed him, but I knew my dirty work was just starting.
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