Dead Duck (Flynt & Steele Mysteries Book 2)

by Micheal Maxwell

“Any way to tell if he was a regular drug user?”

  “I checked for needle marks and saw none. There are also no recent traces of resin from marijuana, and no immediate signs of binge drinking within his liver. Nothing of normal party drugs in his system. Let me stress one more time: I have barely started to really dig into him, no pun intended. But based on the bits I’ve already gathered; this is something I’ve never seen. The elements I’ve found in his blood are sophisticated compounds, which is why I can’t yet identify them. There is one compound that is incredibly similar to alprazolam.”

  “What’s that?”

  It was Flynt that answered, finally tearing his eyes away from the corpse to join the conversation. “Xanax. For anxiety.”

  “That’s right,” Sankaran said. “But the compound is different. And there are many of them, tied into one. It makes me think it was a modified drug of some kind. Maybe a modified psychiatric drug. But that’s just a guess. If it was, it is not recreational.”

  “Would he have taken enough to cause the heart attack?”

  “That is the thing, my friend. There are no traces of the substances in his lungs or his sinuses. I still need to check the stomach, but I’m fairly certain I’ll find nothing there, either. I did find huge amounts of the substance in his liver. His body tried to flush it, but it already reached his brain.”

  “How long did it take to stop his heart?”

  “No telling. Long enough to paint himself head to foot, kill that poor duck, and climb a tree.” Sankaran shrugged.

  “How about the duck?” Flynt asked. “Got a cause of death on it?”

  Steele and Sankaran shared a look, trying to determine if Flynt was being sarcastic or not. Sadly, it appeared he was being serious.

  “Its head was bitten off,” Sankaran finally answered.

  “Like Ozzy!”

  Steele gave a knowing nod and held up his fist, index, and little fingers extended. “That was a bat, Flynt.”

  Flynt chuckled and returned the Metal hand-sign.

  “You didn’t strike me as a headbanger, Detective Steele.” Sankaran looked shocked.

  “We all have our youthful indiscretions.” He gave an uncharacteristic laugh that fell flat in the exam room.

  “You know,” the doctor began. “I love my job and what I do, but just this once, I would like to switch jobs with you.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because this makes no real sort of sense. This is a mystery worthy of my talents. This drug and these compounds all suggest some greater puzzle to be solved.”

  “Great!” Flynt exclaimed. “I love puzzles. I like grabbing a piece and hiding it so I can put the last piece in.”

  “That’s just wrong,” Sankaran replied.

  Steele chuckled, but he thought he understood it. And whether or not Flynt knew it, he just hammered home a great analogy. With detective work, sometimes it was helpful to hold on to a piece of the puzzle so it could properly fit in at the very end.

  He hoped that was not the case here. He hoped this would be a quick and simple puzzle.

  Looking at the state of Carson Butler on Sankaran’s table, he doubted they were going to be so lucky.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When they returned to the campus, it looked like a different place. Yes, it was Friday and yes, it was a community college, but the lawns and sidewalks were all bustling with activity. There was a touch-football game taking place on one of the lawns, and an acoustic duo was set up in front of the student activities center. As Flynt and Steele made their way to the far end of campus, Steele could smell meat grilling somewhere, as students were partaking in a cookout. It almost made him miss his college years. Almost.

  The athletic grounds sat on the other end of the campus. The baseball diamond was overgrown and too small for any team wanting to be taken seriously. Steele figured even Flynt could knock one out of that park with enough attempts, and maybe being slow pitched underhand. There was also a poorly maintained track, two crooked soccer goals, and a sad, unmarked, football field with dirt end zones.

  Flynt called ahead to set up the meeting with the coach, a gruff-sounding man by the name of Jamal Albrecht. Steele assumed the man they saw standing by the rusted goal posts was Coach Albrecht. The man looked over to them as if they were seriously infringing upon his day. But, when Flynt and Steele joined him over by the goalpost, Steele saw that he was mistaken. Coach Albrecht didn’t look irritated at all. He looked sad.

  “Thanks for meeting with us,” Steele said.

  “Of course. Carson was a good kid and a damned fine athlete. I have no idea why someone would do this to him.”

  “Can you tell us a bit about him?” Steele asked. Next to him, Flynt took out his unicorn notebook ready to take notes. Steele hoped Albrecht wouldn’t notice.

  “He was very dedicated and, from what I could gather, a pretty good friend to most of the guys on the team.”

  “What position did he play?”

  “Cornerback. We’d put him out on punt returns every now and then, too. Fast kid, that’s for sure.”

  “Did Carson have any enemies on the team?”

  “If he did, I didn’t know about it. None of my assistant coaches knew, either. I already spoke to them to see if they knew why this might have happened.”

  Flynt flipped the cover of his notebook closed. The sparkles on the cover caught the sun and glimmered. Steele knew what was coming but dared to hope his partner might actually make some sort of meaningful contribution to the case.

  “What’s your favorite football team?” Flynt asked Albrecht.

  The coach looked confused, but answered, “The Chargers.”

  Flynt frowned. “I’m more of a 49ers fan.”

  “They haven’t been the same since Steve Young left,” Albrecht commented.

  Flynt nodded in agreement to this, but folded his arms and looked out to the field. Apparently, he was done.

  “Coach Albrecht,” Steele said, “I wonder if there might be a few players you feel might be a good source of information. Guys you trust.”

  “A few, yeah. And as a matter of fact, one of them is headed down here right now.” He pointed to the right, where two young men were walking towards the football field. “The Hispanic kid on the right is Carlos Munoz. He’s a tight-end and sometimes fullback. We have to have some kids pull double duty. As you can imagine, a community college football team needs to be resourceful. Anyway, I’m sure Carlos would talk to you.”

  Albrecht waved the kids over, gesturing for them to hurry. “Carlos, these two men are detectives, looking into what happened to Carson.”

  “Good,” Carlos said. He nodded towards both of them, giving Flynt a little more attention than Steele. “I hope you can find the creep that did it.”

  “We’d actually like to ask you a few questions if you don’t mind.” Steele nodded toward Albrecht. “The coach says we can trust you.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Before Steele could start asking questions, Albrecht gave them a brief wave and then motioned for the other boy to follow him. They walked to a little storage shed tucked away on the other side of the field, leaving Carlos with the detectives.

  “Did you know Carson well?” Steele asked.

  “Yeah, pretty well. He’d be the guy the coach would have to cover me at practices.”

  “You hang out with him outside of practice?”

  “Every now and then. But it was usually stuff that was still on campus. I don’t know that I ever hung out with him off-campus. Maybe once…watching a basketball game at a bar with him and some other guys. But that was about it.”

  “Coach Albrecht said he can’t think of anyone that might have it out for Carson,” Steele said. “How about you? Can you think of anyone?”

  Carlos gave it some thought but eventually only shrugged. “No, man. I really can’t. Carson was a chill guy, you know? I don’t know that he ever had a single bad thing to say about anyone. At practice, he was always encoura
ging everyone.”

  “And what about the other things you guys did on-campus? What sorts of things are we talking about?”

  Carlos frowned and then gave a nervous chuckle. Well, there’s a video game league around here. I’d play against him in Fortnite every now and then. Madden on occasion.”

  “Madden?” Steele asked.

  “Yeah. A football game.” He laughed as he said this, a befuddled Steele had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Okay, but you frowned and chuckled when I asked. So, what else? What are you not wanting to tell me?”

  “Well, Carson was going to these meetings on campus. Always at night. He was really excited about it and asked me to go one time. I went, but just the one time. It was a little too strange for me.”

  “What kind of meetings?”

  “They’re called Awakenings. It’s actually sort of a small movement growing here on campus. A few other colleges in the area, too, I think.”

  “What sort of meeting was it?” Flynt asked. He popped his notebook back open. His tongue was partially poked out of his mouth as he prepared to write.

  “I don’t even know, man. It was this hippy sort of meditation and enlightenment nonsense. But man…Carson was deep into it.”

  “Is it like a church or something?” Steele asked.

  “No. Church is different. I can understand why people would go to church. But no…this was something totally different. It was weird.”

  “Is there a teacher or professor that oversees it?”

  “Yeah. A guy named Anthony Leik. Some big wig from the psychology department.”

  “And he’s a professor here, at Puta Gorda?”

  “Yeah.”

  Steele considered this for a moment. He certainly didn’t enjoy the idea of digging into the staff on campus. But there was a dead kid, dosed up on some sort of drugs, according to Sankaran, and he was part of a weird series of meetings having to do with enlightenment. It certainly seemed to be a link as far as Steele was concerned.

  “Thanks, Carlos. This is very helpful.”

  Carlos gave a nervous nod and then sprinted over to where Coach Albrecht and the other player were sorting out pads, balls, and other equipment.

  “Strange,” Flynt said when the boy was gone.

  “What’s that?” Steele asked.

  “Albrecht…something strange.”

  “What?”

  “He mentioned Steve Young when I brought up the 49ers. But everyone usually goes with Joe Montana.”

  Steele rolled his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose, pushing away a headache. He held his tongue and said nothing as they headed back for the car.

  * * *

  Anthony Leik’s office was almost to the other side of the campus. Flynt was rather glad Steele elected to drive through the parking lots rather than hike across campus. Something about being in a college setting depressed him and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because he always looked back with regret on his misspent college years. Or maybe (and he figured this was more likely) he didn’t like the way college-aged kids looked at him.

  Leik’s office was down a long hallway lined with offices. Flynt thought the hall itself spoke of people of science and health. It felt safe and disinfected. Oddly, it smelled sort of like a cough drop. Flynt was breathing in this strangely pleasant smell when they approached Leik’s office.

  “It’s open!” A voice responded to the three raps on the door.

  Steele opened the door and stepped inside. Flynt followed behind and was instantly taken by the degrees and awards on the wall. He then shifted his attention to the man sitting at the desk. Anthony Leik looked to be in his early fifties. He wore round wire glasses and the sort of goatee that Flynt always associated with Satan. But the smile he used when greeting them was bright and charming.

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked.

  “I hope so.” Steele held up his badge. “First, I’m curious, have you heard the news about a young man named Carson Butler?”

  “Oh, I absolutely have,” Leik said. “Such a tragedy. He was in my Advanced Psychology course.”

  “A good student?”

  Leik grinned and gave a little shrug. “He was very bright but my goodness did that young man hate to write papers!”

  “We understand he also attended some of your after-hours meetings. Awakenings, I think they’re called.”

  “Yes, he did. Honestly, he never seemed like the type to partake in something like that, but he rather enjoyed it, I think.”

  “What do you mean never seemed like the type?”

  “We usually don’t get many athletes in meetings regarding the spiritual or seeking enlightenment. But Carson said it actually helped to balance him out. He said he loved getting aggressive and physical out on the football field, but coming to the Awakening meetings sort of cleaned him—and that’s his word choice, not mine.”

  “Can you explain what takes place at these Awakening meetings?”

  “Oh, several things. It varies from meeting to meeting. Sometimes it’s simply deep breathing exercises, intermediate yoga, and sound therapy.”

  “What’s sound therapy?”

  “Oh, hey, I know that one,” Flynt said. “It’s when doctors use different sounds and music to alter your way of thinking. It’s getting more popular now because of the ASMR videos all over YouTube.”

  “And what is ASMR?” Steele asked.

  Flynt wasn’t quite sure why he enjoyed that he actually knew something Steele didn’t. Still, he tried to remain professional and conversational and let Leik answer instead.

  “Your partner is indeed right,” the professor said. “ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. There’s no hard scientific proof, but I believe it works wonders in releasing small amounts of oxytonic. It serves as a great emotional reset.”

  Flynt could tell that Steele was weighing his options, figuring out how to best proceed. He had his own ideas, but it was too early in the investigation to be blunt. Besides, Steele seemed to have problems with the way he approached interviews.

  “Professor Leik,” Steele said. “I need to reveal something to you, and as of right now, it is not common knowledge. I would appreciate your discretion.”

  “Of course,” Leik said. He leaned forward in his seat, propping his elbows on his desk.

  “There was an unknown drug in Carson’s blood at the time of death,” Steele said. “Do you know anything about the sorts of popular drugs currently sweeping through the campus?”

  “Not particularly. The security guards bust kids for pot here and there. And I do believe a few years back, cocaine was quite popular. But lately, no, I’ve heard nothing new.”

  “Are there any sort of drugs involved in your Awakening meetings?”

  Leik sat back in his seat, his eyes growing wide. He looked as if Steele reached out and slapped him. “That’s insulting. These Awakening meetings are nothing more than a way for stressed-out students to get together and unwind. Now, some of my methods may be a little unorthodox, but it is all approved by the school. So no…there are no drugs taken at these meetings.”

  Steele nodded and then pointed to one of the awards on Leik’s wall. “Johns Hopkins…from eight years ago. And I see your Master’s degree right there says you graduated twenty-two years ago. I take it that means you’ve been at this profession for a while, correct?”

  “Yes. I’ve been a professor here at the college for about nine years. Before that, I was a part-time adjunct for several different colleges. What of it?”

  “Forgive me for being stereotypical, but the way to describe an Awakening meeting, plus your profession, plus the drugs found in Carson Butler’s blood makes me have to be a good detective. And sometimes that means observing stereotypes. So…if I were to do some digging into your career, would I find anything at all that might point towards some sort of drugs?”

  Flynt felt his stomach roiling. Steele was rarely this aggressive with someone they j
ust met. It was a pretty big leap, but Flynt assumed Steele must be certain about it if he was being so pushy. He watched as the two men stared at one another. Steele remained casual and calm while Leik slowly crumpled.

  “Roughly ten years ago I was hired as a member of a small team that was dabbling in the micro-dosing of certain psychedelics. But it was all government-backed.”

  “Any results?”

  “Many, actually. There continues to be substantial research showing that very small doses of LSD and DMT work wonders on depression and even certain autism triggers.”

  “And you are no longer involved in the work?” Steele asked.

  “Not involved, no. I do, however, still follow the news regarding the research. Just like medical marijuana, I do believe psychedelics will soon be utilized in the medical field.”

  “Any chance you returned to the old days as a way to enhance the Awakening meetings?”

  Leik lost his cool at that comment. He removed his glasses and when he did, his cheeks grew rosy with anger. The red tint combined with his goatee made him look more like Satan than ever. Flynt wasn’t sure whether he should laugh or make the sign of the cross.

  “Do you have any more questions about Carson Butler?” Leik asked.

  “No sir, I think you answered them all,” Steele replied.

  “Then I’m going to ask you as politely as possible to leave.”

  Steele started for the door, but Flynt stopped just inside the doorway. “One more question, Professor Leik.”

  “What is it?”

  “Did you ever do LSD and watch The Wizard of Oz while listening to Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon album?”

  Before the professor could answer, Flynt felt Steele grab his arm and pull him out the door.

  “Why do you do that?” Steele asked him.

  “Hey, I was just curious. I’ve done it twice while not on drugs and it’s pretty freaky.”

  Steele rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Flynt made a note of it in his unicorn notebook, underlining it for emphasis. Steele’s stress tick.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Steele figured it would be a good idea to gather all of the information from students while they were on campus. After leaving Leik’s office, they drove back over to the football field where it looked like practice was starting up. Flynt and Steele once again approached Coach Albrecht and asked him to pull Carlos from practice.