by Vic Kerry
“Did they find anything?” he asked as his voice digitized some.
“No, but I do have a question.” She heard more digitized talking. “Hello?”
Nothing answered back. She closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket.
Ashe stood on the sidewalk outside of the D’Iberville Building on Alabama Tech’s campus. The street lamps overhead made Semmes’ cruiser look blue instead of white. The detective leaned out his window.
“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asked.
“I need to catch up on some work. Cybil—my student worker—was supposed to leave some stuff my classes have done. The college isn’t going to keep paying me to do nothing,” Ashe said.
“You’ve only missed a few days due to your fiancée’s death,” Semmes said. “How are you going to get home?”
Ashe shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll catch a ride with someone.” He looked up at the building; a few office lights were on. “My friend, Erik Rogers, is still here. He’ll give me a lift.”
“All right. If you need anything give me a call,” Semmes said. “Oh, and until I get a chance to follow up on this new parading society, don’t tell anyone about what we did up in Birmingham. I don’t want things leaking to the public.”
“No worries. Have a good night.”
Ashe threw up his hand to Semmes and turned to walk into the building. He made his way to the third floor and into Rogers’ office. The psychologist sat with his back to the door. He watched a program run on his computer. A single green line moved up and down at different beats. Ashe watched for a few moments then cleared his throat. Rogers turned around.
“Ashe, I haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been hiding?” he asked while closing out the program.
“Here and there,” Ashe said. “I came by to ask if I could get a ride back to my place when you leave.”
“Sure. What’s the matter with your car? Is it broken down?”
“I’ve been with Detective Semmes, the guy working on Marianne’s case. He dropped me off here so that I could catch up on some work my student assistant was supposed to leave me.”
“How did that turn out up in Birmingham?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ashe said.
“Cybil told me you had to go to Birmingham with that detective.” Rogers scanned him up and down. “You’ll tell your work-study where you’re going but leave your best friend and confidante in the dark.”
“I didn’t realize that we were that close, but they had something similar to what happened with Marianne up there. This woman walked out of the morgue after a doctor used a device on her.”
“Was it the same guy?”
“No, totally different guy.” Ashe leaned against the doorframe. Although he’d been sitting most of the day he felt exhausted. “What is going on with your program?”
“Something strange,” Rogers said. “I’ve been toying with the engrams I’ve recorded so far. I think I might be able to isolate different impulses for more emotions. All these emotions intertwine with each other. Just imagine if we can record people’s feelings and find underlying negative and dangerous emotions like depression or dysphoria before symptoms appear.”
“Sounds like another science award for Dr. Erik Rogers,” Ashe said, glad that his friend changed the subject even if it was to brag.
“For both of us.” Rogers held up the engram device Ashe had built. “Without this thing none of what I’ve been able to do would have been possible. We’ll be the new Crick and Watson.”
“I’m going to walk up the not double helix stairs to my office and get some work done. Come by and get me when you get ready to leave.”
“I’ll buzz you on your cell phone. That way I can save my knees.”
Ashe left Rogers’ office and climbed two more floors to his. Cybil had everything locked up, and the lights were out. He went in and lit up the room. Marianne’s pink laptop lay on his desk. Although it was partially covered by a ripped envelope, he’d recognize it anywhere. It had been a Christmas gift to her a few years ago.
He sat down at his desk. A note was stuck to the top of the computer. Cybil had written: Accepted this from the police. I had to agree to a date so he would leave it. So you owe me. Sorry I opened the envelope, but I thought I might find something that would help figure out what happened with Marianne. Talk to you tomorrow.
Ashe peeled the note off, balled it up and tossed it into the trash can. He felt a little bit angry that she had opened the envelope and probed into his fiancée’s private matters, but she seemed like she wanted to help him deal with all the pain.
The temptation to snoop on the computer was strong, but Ashe found the papers from his undergraduate classes. He started grading. It was just the mind-numbing activity he needed. Marianne left his mind as did Cybil. Nothing of the Heinz woman in Birmingham lingered there until his phone buzzed an hour and a half later with a text message from Rogers. It was time to leave.
“Did my friend ever come by and talk to you?” Rogers asked.
“The priestly shrink? Yeah, he did.” Ashe sipped his drink. He’d decided tonight he’d have a vodka and Coke, which he called a Russian libre.
“Did he help you any?”
“We only talked one time, so no.”
A waitress brought them their food. Ashe didn’t really want to eat out tonight. He and Semmes had stopped at a McDonald’s somewhere between Birmingham and Montgomery for lunch. The idea of another greasy restaurant meal didn’t appeal to him, but Rogers had suggested a seafood place. He decided that crab claws might not be that bad.
“So tell me more about what happened up in Birmingham.” Rogers slurped down an oyster.
“I can’t. Detective Semmes told me not to discuss that issue because he doesn’t want anyone possibly involved to hear about it.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
Ashe cracked opened a claw. “Your priest friend.”
“Only in confession, which is protected information.” Rogers chased another oyster with a swig of beer.
“I better not.”
“You’re going to tell Cybil, and she’s just a work-study.”
Ashe bit off a piece of crabmeat. As he chewed it, he watched Rogers. The psychologist’s eyes seemed playful, but the words seemed loaded.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” Ashe said. “I mean my fiancée just died.”
“She’s cute.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Suddenly the image of Cybil’s small bare breasts filled up Ashe’s mind. “She’s younger than I am and a student.”
“Please, like you would be the first professor to fool around with a student.” Another oyster slid into his mouth. “You ought to talk to the literature professors sometime. It’s like a soap opera mixed with an orgy in their department.”
“I saw the woman who went missing in Birmingham last night at the Mardi Gras parade.” Ashe tried to change the subject.
Rogers nearly choked on an oyster. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, she said that she was the president of some new parading society.”
“Did she look like a zombie?”
“No, she looked like a normal person although she spoke and moved a little stiffly.”
Rogers took a drink from his beer. “So who did you go to the parade with? Because I know you didn’t venture down there by yourself.”
Ashe bit off another piece of crabmeat. He tried to take as long as he could, chewing on it to avoid answering. It was apparent that Rogers wasn’t going to let it go.
“Cybil.”
“I knew it,” the psychologist answered. “How was she? I bet she’s a screamer. She looks like one.”
“We watched a parade then went for a drink, which I didn’t get to have because Detective Semmes called me
.” Ashe took a long sip from his cocktail. “There is nothing going on between us.”
“Is that Semmes guy trying to find this missing woman from Birmingham too?” Rogers asked.
“He’s going to try and find out about this new parading society. I guess he figures there might be a connection between the disappearances and that society,” Ashe said.
“That might be a pretty good bet.” Rogers slurped down an oyster and then yawned. “Let’s finish up. I’m really tired all of a sudden.”
“How many of those things have you sucked down?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“I thought you were trying to lose weight and stay fit,” Ashe said.
“I need the protein for the bodybuilding. Just like I need the sleep. Finish up already.”
Ashe was happy to hear that. Nothing would feel better than to get to bed and try to sleep. He just hoped that Carol Heinz and Marianne wouldn’t haunt his dreams.
Security Camera: Storage Facility, Michigan Avenue, Mobile, AL, 10:16 p.m. CST
Several people mill around the room. Only a small bulb dangling from the ceiling lights them. Most of the faces are lost in shadow. Carol Heinz stands in the middle of the people. She speaks to them, and although the others walk around, they seem to be listening.
Marianne walks out of the darker shadows carrying a costume. It looks like a mermaid outfit. The sequins on the tail fin sparkle and shimmer in the little bit of light in the room. All the others look at the costume and touch it. Carol points to the outfit and then to Marianne, who hands the costume to another person. With everyone standing around and staring, Marianne removes her clothes. She stands a long time naked in the midst of all the bodies. No one seems surprised, and not a single person ogles her. She takes the costume back and steps into it. Carol helps her fasten it in the back.
After Marianne twirls to show it off, Carol nods her approval. She speaks to the crowd again, pointing to Marianne the whole time. Then she claps her hands and the group disperses. Marianne turns around and lets her undo the back of the costume. She removes it and stands naked as she and Carol talk back and forth.
A brighter light floods the room as one of the doors opens and lets the bright street lamps from the back of the building shine inside. A man walks in, wearing a hooded sweatshirt with an Alabama Tech logo on it. The hood hides his face. He talks with the two women. Carol drops her head and walks off.
The man reaches out and caresses Marianne’s breast. She does not recoil from him. He pulls her closer, and she moves toward him with stiff mechanical movements. She puts her arms around him, leaving enough room for him to fondle her breasts and then move to the area between her legs. After a few minutes, he leads her to the shadows while unfastening his pants.
Chapter Six
Cybil knocked on the door as she entered Ashe’s office. She did it more to warn him that she was coming than anything else. He looked up from some papers he worked on and smiled. She made her way into the office. Ever since opening up the laptop yesterday, she’d been worried what kind of reaction Ashe would have had to her doing so. Everything seemed fine.
“What do you need me to do today?” she asked. “Any papers that need copying?”
“No, I think I’m fine for today. Maybe you should check with some of the other professors. You don’t work exclusively for me,” he said.
She thought his words were clipped and curt. His eyes told her nothing of his emotional state except that he was tired. Dark purple bags hung under them and made him look much older than he was.
“I have. I went to everyone before I came here.”
“I guess you can go to the lounge and attack homework or something like that,” Ashe said.
“Can I do it in here? Your chairs are more comfortable.”
“I don’t know, Cybil. I think it would be better if you went someplace else.”
“Are you mad at me? Is this about the laptop? I figured that you would want it back sooner than later.”
“It’s not about the laptop; although, I did find it a little bit strange that you agreed to go on a date with the police officer to get it.”
She felt a bit embarrassed and flushed. “I really wanted to get my hands on it to see if I could find anything that might explain why Marianne died.”
“I’m not mad at you for that.” He paused and took a long breath. She knew that he wrangled to find the right words. “I’m afraid that people think that we have an inappropriate relationship, something beyond student and professor.”
They were more than professor and student, she thought to herself. She felt like they were friends. Who would care if they were friends?
“We are more than that, aren’t we?” she asked.
“I don’t know what kind of feelings you are harboring for me, but I am just your boss and professor.”
“We’re not friends?” She felt a little hurt.
He looked at her. His eyes brightened a little. “I guess we might lean that way, but that’s not the impression I think others are getting.”
“Do you mean people think we’re getting it on or something like that?”
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
“Other professors,” Ashe said.
“Did they find out about me flashing at the parade? Because there was nothing sexual about that.” She lied a little. Flashing had been in part to get the stuffed alien, but to also perhaps give him a free look, and maybe whet his appetite. It felt silly now. He’d just lost his fiancée.
“No, I think they just see you hanging out in here a lot,” he said. “That’s why I think you should deal with the other professors a bit more.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be in the lounge if you need me for anything. I mean making copies or looking up research articles, not sex.”
Ashe laughed even though he tried to hide it as a cough. He did smile though. Cybil knew that things weren’t going to be as bad as they could be.
She walked back to the door and stopped. “I found something strange on Marianne’s computer.”
“What’s that?”
“She had a song by the Goth Sox in her media player. Did she know the band?” She looked back at him.
“I don’t think so. I’d never heard of them until the other night. I don’t know, maybe one of her friends gave it to her.”
“I tried to listen to it, but it sounded funny like it had an echo or something. I just thought you might like to know that.”
“I’ll check it out. Thank you.” He smiled again, and it was warm and welcoming. She felt much better about their standing with each other, and she started into the hall. “When do you have to go on that date?”
She turned to look at him. “Tonight at a downtown bar.”
“That’s too bad. I kind of wanted to go to another parade. I don’t really have friends who do that.”
“We can still go. I’d like someone around just in case this guy gets fresh.”
“Sounds good, but it’s completely platonic,” Ashe said.
“I’ll write I’m not doing Professor Ashley Shrove on my forehead in permanent marker,” she said.
“I’ll see you this evening. We’ll take my car again.”
“Good because you’d look funny riding bitch on my Vespa.”
Ashe opened Marianne’s laptop. Cybil hadn’t turned it off after she’d been searching it the night before. The screen woke from sleep mode. The happy picture of him and Marianne stared from desktop. If he kept the computer, he’d have to change that. Looking at the picture would depress him every time he worked on it. He opened up the media player software. The first song he saw on the play list was something called “Pink-Striped Hair” by the Goth Sox. He could only imagine what it would sound like after hearing a little of their music live.
“Knock, knock,” Fathe
r Smalls said.
Ashe looked up and smiled at the priest. “I wasn’t expecting to see you. What brings you by?”
“Erik told me that you went to Birmingham yesterday, and that you encountered something disturbing again.”
Smalls walked in and sat in one of the visitor’s chairs. He crossed his legs and folded his hands over one knee. Ashe double-clicked on the Goth Sox’s song. It started to play from the speakers. The music was strained and harsh just like bad punk rock usually was.
“Apparently whatever happened to Marianne has spread to central Alabama,” he said. “Excuse the music, but I need to listen to this.”
Smalls curled his lip up as the music hit a very sour note. Ashe felt like doing the same thing. He could hear what Cybil had mentioned. The song did sound like it was echoing.
“What kind of music is that?” Smalls asked.
“A local band called the Goth Sox. Apparently Marianne had downloaded it.”
“Did she like that kind of music?”
“No.”
“What’s the matter with it? It sounds like two versions are playing at the same time.”
Ashe clicked on the stop button. The music quit playing. “That’s exactly what it is. I was trying to figure it out. I think one version is playing faster than the other.”
“Is that what punk musicians usually do when they record it, nowadays?” Smalls asked. “It’s a bit different from the Ramones or Blondie.”
“I have no idea. This isn’t my kind of music either, but I doubt it. I think something happened to the file.”
Ashe opened the center drawer of his desk and rummaged around in it. His found a blue thumb drive. He pulled it from the drawer and shoved it into the laptop’s USB port. Then he downloaded the Goth Sox song onto it.
“I thought maybe you might need to talk about things?” Smalls said.
“What kind of things?” Ashe transferred the thumb drive from the laptop to his computer.
A virus scan popped up automatically. He’d set up his computer to do that every time he inserted a USB device. Sometimes students turned in work from their personal drives. He didn’t want to risk his computer crashing from some funky student-acquired virus.
