Ed Danvers Case Files #2 Pt. 2

Ed Danvers Case Files:

Sins of the Father

Part Two

Who’s Got Your Goat?

 

The doc sent me home today. He said my hip would be sore and tender for awhile and I should lay off it. He didn’t send me home empty-handed, though. I’m now the proud owner of a fancy aluminum cane, complete with a little rubber foot. So now I’m the old codger with a cane. I guess it sure beats a plastic hand? Not that Vicksy didn’t make short work of that. The little gadget monkey made himself a screwy new hand that makes noises when it moves. So far he only seems to use it to crack walnuts. The hip’s been behaving, mostly. It was a little touch-and-go when Laurel’s kid hopped on my lap to hear another story about her grandma and great grandma back in New Orleans. I can’t be mad at the kid, she’s only four. But damn, that hurt.

Vicksy was slouched behind the bar staring at the television and going to town on a bag of walnuts. The news was the news. Father Nutso was apparently staying low for a couple. It gave me some time to mull the case. There were three families left after the priest cut up the Pattersons and the Bartlebys. He seems to put some time between his appearances. Two or three days. Of the remaining families, I was keeping a close eye on the Babatundes. Mr. and Mrs. Babatunde, along with the Pattersons and Bartlebys, were the most high profile of the lot. These three had a lot more facetime on the news and had chipped in the most to hire me. The Tylers and Fukimuras have kept a low profile. The Tylers did interviews in the beginning, but the Fukimuras have kept their heads down from the get go. Good for them. The media is bunch of blood suckers. I swear to god, if Vicksy cracks one more walnut…

“Vicksy,” I groaned, “When did you decide you loved walnuts so much?”

“When they got easier to open,” he cracked another one with his metal hand and dumped the content in his mouth. “I was excited to try Brazil nuts, but as it turns out they’re pretty disgusting.”

“Get anywhere with the barflies?”

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Crescent City Creeps #10

Cat’s in the Cradle

 

The shoggoth charged toward Sylvia, Delareux and Toli. It stopped short of trampling and roared out of a maw that expanded to the size of the cave entrance from which they had just fled. As it roared, the front part of its form curled toward the sky and the roar pitched to a howl. The howl became thin till it was inaudible, but it still trumpeted its mouth to the sky. It held this position, swaying back and forth.

“What is it doing?” Toli asked.

“Calling to its pack,” Sylvia replied, her green eyes glinting. “It wants to know it’s not alone. And when it finds out it is, it’ll go nuts.”

“I can’t hear anything.”

“It’s call is in the ultrasonic frequency range.”

“Shouldn’t we be taking this moment to put some distance between us?”

“We need to get it to chase us. Lead it to an open area.”

“How do we do that?” Delareux asked.

“Piss it off then run.”

“What?” Toli gasped.

“Bang, bang, bang,” Sylvia made finger guns toward the beast, “Believe me, you won’t injure it. You’ll only make it mad.”

Toli gave Sylvia an incredulous look, shook his head and aimed his gun.

“Wait,” Sylvia shouted and grabbed his sleeve. “Get some distance first. The creature may look like pretty monolithic, but it’s very nimble. When you get its attention, run like hell. We’ll follow.”

“Where the hell are we going to lead this thing?”

“It should be an open area with a lot of space. We want to minimize the damage to it and everything around it.”

“The high school field it is then,” Delareux declared.

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Ray #10

Some Other Time

A stagecoach ambled over the muddy ruts of a drenched country road. The horses stepped high in the puddles and twitched the rain from their manes. A small, grey figure led the coach, hunched over, rain pouring from the gutter formed by the rolled up brim of his hat.

Inside, Bart took up one seat and Pietro sat in his lap. Ray sat in the middle opposite him with Abby and Cletus on either side. They jerked in unison to the jostling of the coach.

“I can’t wait to go somewhere it isn’t raining,” Abby said, half her head soaked by the leaking door.

Pietro gave Bart some lazy gestures.

“Not much further,” Bart said as he signed back.

“It isn’t?” Ray perked out his despondent gaze.

Bart shook his head and mouthed, “No idea.”

Ray’s eyes rolled back, as did his head. “I can’t take this coach anymore.”

The rhythm of the rocking coach slowed to halt.

“Doesn’t mean I wanted to stop,” Ray shouted.

Cletus slid open a wooden panel on the top half of the door and stuck his head out. He withdrew, snapped the panel shut and shriveled into his seat.

“Papal guard,” he wheezed.

A knock came at the panel. They all exchanged glances. Bart gestured to Cletus to answer and Cletus responded with a vigorous shake of his head. Bart puffed, pressed his finger against the panel and slid it back, like he expected to reveal the Grim Reaper on the other side.

There stood Cardinal Martell, crimson and black, supporting his dragon-headed hammer on his shoulder.

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Ed Danvers Case Files #2

Ed Danvers Case Files #2:

Sins of the Father

Part One

Give Me a Hand

 

May 21st, 1987

 

It’s always when I’m laid up in the hospital when I think, ‘I shouldn’t have taken this case.’ It’s never ten minutes before I get jumped by the very mooks I’m trailing. Sure, I’m getting sloppy. I’m getting old, too. There’s not much to say about the case. It’s your standard philandering. Pretty straightforward. The ones that send you to hospital always are.

The only two who bother visiting me are Cal and his wife, and Vicksy. Laurel drops by too. So I guess that’s …four? I know more people than I thought I did. I had Vicksy smuggle me in some stuff from the office. Not much, just a few files. Something I can stuff under the pillow when the doctor comes in. He doesn’t want me thinking about work right now. The guy also told me to lay off the hooch. Some things are just not going to happen.

I leafed through the manila file folder and noticed Vicksy grabbed the one marked ‘pending.’ That wasn’t the one I asked for. I browsed the files. Laurel’s handwriting is even worse than mine. I hired Laurel after her psychic business went under. I always wonder why psychic entrepreneurs never see it coming? Her old man ran out and she has her little girl, Sophia, to take care of, so I couldn’t just let her wander off into the cold and I had a few shekels to spare a week. Besides, she lives right over my office and I got to annex her old shop, next door. There’s a lot more room and I got a psychic on staff. The cases were humdrum. Remember what I said about humdrum? And then, I suddenly knew why the doc didn’t want me looking at cases. Turns out Gabe, the M.E. dropped by and gave Laurel some pictures and mimeographed reports. He said it would be up my alley. The infuriating thing is, I know he was being a smart ass. And it’s exactly the sort of thing I can’t stay away from. Weird shit is worse than horse, with me. No matter how much I kick, I wind up crossing tracks with the ghost of a mad scientist or a wizard jewel thief. Worst part is, I think the P.D. knows that keeping me strung out means they don’t have to do the spooky stuff. Speaking of horse, since they don’t let you drink in here, I keep plugging away at the happy button. On-demand morphine. One of the perks of getting shot in all the right places.

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Joneses #9

I Hear You Knocking

 

“That’s ‘Back in the Day Ray’ taken care of,” Yalda said, watching his whiskey as he swirled it. “You left the portal open for future Super Dick Ray to come crusading through. That leaves Not So Back in the Day Ray. Have you figured out where the detachment chased the Joneses off to?”

“Not yet,” Vidjeda grumbled, glowering into the distance.

“Close enough is good enough. If you’re going to miss, try and make it behind them. But I’m sure I can fix whatever they fuck up if we wind up in front of them. If I remember this Vyx guy correctly, he’s a squish with a cyborg enhancement fetish. Creepy as fuck, but for some reason the whole world wants to blow him. Really pliable, though. He’s got some exploitable skeletons in his closet. Vivisection on poor kids and shit. Dickens on coke type shit. Of course, that would be the shit I remember. It’ll all come back to me once I get there.”

“What do you think your younger self will think?”

“I’d be embarrassed if he didn’t try to kill me.”

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