Morris PI

by Dion Baia

  The skinny man didn’t look over at Walt as he lit another cigarette and pointed with the fingers holding his smoke. “They brought him in about two and a half hours ago.” His accent was minimalized but still present, what sounded to the trained ear of something from maybe an Eastern European region.

  “Gunshot wound?”

  Without taking his eyes off the show below, the skinny man nodded. “In the chest. Large-caliber round.”

  Walter was starting to get interested. “Is he gonna survive?”

  The skinny man tipped his head slightly so the lazy smoke that burnt off the cigarette hanging in his mouth didn’t get into his eyes when he inhaled. “Well, with the magic Zipper can perform nowadays and Gray Matter’s knowledge of the body, be it human or animal,” he winked at Walter before turning back to the show, “if you’ve got the cash, I’d say there’s a one in two chance of beating any affliction a piece of red-hot lead or cold hard steel could inflict on you…bearing in mind you’d need the connections and a wheelman to get you here fast enough.” The man had certainly been working on dropping the accent; now only a very slight inflection put on certain sounds and syllables, but his foreign speech pattern was still apparent. Walt figured a prop like this would have it completely Americanized in weeks if not a month.

  He inhaled a drag and took a long, hard look at Walter. “You a polite boy?”

  Walter was beginning to drift into his own little world, extremely lightheaded due to the pain, and was sure he had a fever. “No, I ain’t no cop. How ’bout you, my friend?”

  The skinny man smiled. He blew lazy smoke rings out through his mouth and watched the scene below like he was a spectator at a college football game. “Far from it. I had the foresight to schedule something months in advance while I was in town on business. I was penned in for a procedure to erase my shadow…” He winced while waving his seven bandaged fingers in the air, “…and I was midway through when these wops brought this guy in.” The skinny man finally took notice of Walter’s tormented body language. “Care for a cigarette?”

  “Not right this second, thank you,” Walter said through gritted teeth. He took note of the man’s face. Someone like this might be worth putting in the old card-catalogue in the back of his head.

  The guard finished speaking with Gray Matter and returned to his original position.

  The man in the shadows known as Gray Matter wore a black Stetson hat with a large brim that concealed most of his face. He addressed Walter in a raised voice, one that suggested a slight Japanese accent. “I don’t care for your timing, Mister Morris. You must stop with this sense of entitlement. Next you’ll be wanting to vote.”

  “Gray,” Walter replied in a loud voice, “I don’t have time for jokes right now. I need a favor.”

  Gray Matter carefully eyed the image on the projector screen. Under his hat, the only noticeable feature through the shadows was the projector light reflecting off the dark circular glasses he wore that were closer to being thick goggles.

  He addressed his partner, Zipper. “Zoom in five degrees to the right, the arterial cavity.”

  Zipper put down his tools and pulled off his face mask. He looked into the specially modified viewfinder and readjusted the long focal lens that pointed down at the body. The view on the projection screen changed dramatically and refocused. It was a microscopic view of the wound. Gray Matter pointed to the upper right area of the picture. “Use that capillary as your dominant blood supply, Zipper, and rework it over to the muscle.”

  Gray’s arm had become visible from the elbow down, lit by one of the overhead spotlights. It was metallic, a bright, shiny silver arm like a knight’s gauntlet. The apparatus he wore always reminded Walter of the female robot’s bodysuit from the silent film Metropolis, which was probably done on purpose. As Gray Matter gestured with his hand, it was evident that three of his fingers were absent. Not only that, there wasn’t even a position allotted for two of the digits on the metal glove he was wearing. His pinky and thumb were average size, but the pointer finger was a stub and barely moveable.

  Zipper stepped away from the viewfinder and narrowed his eyes to get a better look at the projected image, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “Shouldn’t I try to save the pulmonary valve?” He gestured in exhaustion at the image in front of him.

  Gray Matter cocked his head to the side and his gaze shifted from the screen to his partner. “If you attempt that, my darling, we will lose the bipolar membrane and we will lose the muscle, therefore losing the entire duct and valve. Do not question right now, Zipper, only perform.”

  Zipper groaned and rolled his eyes like a frustrated child. He put his mask back on and got right back to work. Around him, the machines continued to buzz, beep, and pump blood, inhaling and exhaling for the man in a rhythmic, monotonous fashion. Zipper performed the next stage of the procedure, and blood spurted out all over his mask and neck.

  “As you can see,” Gray said without turning his head to look at Walter, “it is not the most optimal time for conversation, Mister Morris.”

  An alarm sounded on one of the large machines. Multiple dials lit up and fluctuated on the control panel. “We’re gonna lose this guy’s kidney….” Zipper methodically toiled in the exposed chest cavity.

  “Pull back the membrane and control the bleeding by the bone,” Gray directed.

  Walter took a slow and measured step down toward Gray Matter. The room was spinning, but he tried to hold on. “I’ll be out of your hair in ninety seconds flat. I just need a quick word.”

  One of the two men seated in the middle section sprang up at Walter’s interruption. He looked over at Walt and threw his arms out. “Are you fucking serious right now? Is he fucking serious?” he said to his companion, who seemed just as irritated. Both men’s pained expressions betrayed how fried their nerves were.

  Gray Matter looked in their direction, his Stetson hat hiding most of his face from view. “Gentlemen,” he said in a deep, resonating tone, “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, but you must remember, as you came and took priority over a matter, something or someone may also take priority over you, albeit only for a very brief moment.”

  The two Italians glanced at each other with clear frustration, but the second quietly persuaded his friend to sit back down and continue to watch the screen.

  Walter stopped when he got to the row behind Gray Matter. Gray was watching the surgery and spoke without looking at him. “Mister Morris, one truly wonders why we tolerate your idle interruptions.” He glanced at Zipper with a look of concern. “Zipper, start on his valve.”

  Zipper made a face and mimicked him silently, muttering under his breath, “Wouldn’t be doing that if I were me….”

  More of Gray Matter became visible. His body stood erect, supported by a large metal frame. His back was arched, reinforced by pistons, and his neck was stretched by a metal brace that propped his head up straight.

  “Gray, I need…I think, ah shit….”

  Walter lost consciousness and fell lifelessly to the stairs, along with the package he was carrying wrapped in the overcoat. His world went black and he plunged into the abyss.

  Chapter 19

  MORE BAD DREAMS

  Out of the shadows of his mind, child murderer and cannibal Albert Fish gradually came into focus underneath a bright single bulb in a visitor’s cell. He didn’t exude any bravado when he spoke, only a cold, hard, matter-of-factness.

  He sneered. “Do you want to know what became of your little brother?”

  A young Walter Morris strolled down a long cellblock hallway toward an open door. Inside that room, Albert Fish waited, seated behind a simple wooden table.

  He looked up as Walter entered the doorway. “Do you want to know?” he said to a teenage Walter. “Come, I shall tell you every beautiful and exquisite detail.”

  “I want to know….” Walter sat down, but
he was being pulled away, dragged back to consciousness.

  He came around with a shock. “I want to know!”

  Walt was lying on the operating table, his body in restraints. A sense of calm came over him once he realized where he was. Zipper was standing directly above him, busy sewing Walter up.

  “What do you want to know, Mister Morris?” Gray asked.

  Walter closed his eyes for a brief moment to shake off the bad dream replaying in his head. Gray Matter was in his usual spot, and aside from the underlings, the theater was now empty. The Italians, and the lone mystery man who was removing his fingerprints, all were now all gone. A strange emptiness, like he was in a limbo, far below the hustle and bustle of the city, here in this secret underground world, alone with this symbiotic pair.

  “How long have I been out?”

  “Long enough for us to have finished our last two clients and send them on their way,” Gray answered.

  “The dago with the gunshot…,” Walter said aloud as he remembered. “And what was the other?”

  “Just a shadow erasing his identity before he exacts a revenge onto the world,” Gray Matter answered.

  “Have you heard of the man they call The Trouble?” Zipper’s tone was one of admiration.

  “The Trouble, yeah I know that name.”

  “The details of our clients are no one’s business but their own, and that is why they come to us, isn’t it, my darling Zipper?”

  Zipper scowled at Gray but continued sewing Walter up.

  The detective let out a long sigh and closed his eyes to block out some of the artificial light shining down. “How bad was it?” he asked as Zipper finished up.

  Walter tried to raise an arm but forgot he was strapped down. Zipper saw this and began to unfasten the restraints. With his chest and left arm now free, Walter carefully attempted to sit up, but a stabbing pain in his side abruptly stopped him. “Holy shit!”

  “He needed a kidney,” said Gray. “Luckily enough, you were both the same blood type.”

  It took Walter a good few seconds to process what was being said before his eyes widened and he jerked his head up to look at his stomach and the projector screen. He saw a close-up shot of his exposed chest and a freshly stitched incision where the injury in his side had been, along with another recently stitched, long, angular area on his other side.

  Walt’s eyes bulged. “Gray…!” He glared at Zipper. “What have you done?”

  Zipper smiled, an embarrassed and playful smile, like he’d just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  Gray Matter shifted in his seat. “Mister Morris, two functions were served. Your life was saved—and for that you are very welcome, by the way—and you saved a life. Which, knowing you, I think your code of morality would appreciate.”

  Walter couldn’t believe it. A goddamn kidney….

  “How the hell am I supposed to work without a kidney?” He glared up at Gray Matter, trying to focus in on where he was up in the shadows. Gray was much more visible from this angle, probably so Zipper could have a clear line of sight to him. His upper body was erect, supported entirely by the large metal frame it was securely fastened into.

  “You’d be surprised at what medical advancements have been made, and the recovery time for these things have vastly improved. Plus, we used a revolutionary method internally, utilizing dissolvable stitches, and each incision was coated with a medical glue that we ourselves have personally pioneered.” Gray smiled proudly. “It will keep that wound closed no matter what, and it’s a substance that will eventually dissolve over time.”

  “Glue?” Walter wasn’t sure if he was still dreaming.

  “Do not worry, Mister Morris,” Gray responded with a rare chuckle. “You could take on a herd of elephants and I promise you, with our substance coating your incisions, they will not reopen. Why do you think Zipper and I are the biggest game in town?”

  With that, Zipper held his head up high, and a proud smile spread wide across his face. Walt regarded him and tried to offer the same enthusiastic smile in return, but he just didn’t have the energy.

  Walter propped himself up on his elbow and tried to rise, grimacing at the amount of pain on both sides of his abdomen. “Jeeeesus.”

  “Don’t worry, you have pain meds onboard.”

  “This is with something for the pain?” Walter asked.

  Zipper removed his thin rubber gloves. “It’ll kick in soon enough. You may get a little extra out of them too. You’d be surprised at what you’re able to do while you’re recovering.” He winked at Walter, a smirk coming to his face. “Within reason though, Mister Morris. With the aid of modern medicine, we can keep you going and help with your pain. But at some point you will need to rest and let your body convalesce.”

  “Well, I would think so, for someone who’s just had their kidney forcibly removed!”

  “You came to us, Mister Morris.” Gray pointed down at him. “And in the condition, you were in, needing the medical attention you needed, we helped you, and you in return helped us keep our impeccable standards at an exemplary level. But don’t worry, we will find you a replacement, whenever it is convenient for your schedule, for no charge, compliments of the house.” Walter did not react to that. Gray made notations in a ledger. “Now, we can certainly help keep your body going for a limited time, but it will crash eventually. How much time do you need? Realistically?”

  “Realistically?” Walter used an arm to shelter his eyes from the bright lights hanging above. “Probably between twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

  “Hmm, that’s pushing it, Mister Morris.” Gray hit a button and the lights above Walter dimmed in their intensity. “Afterward you’re going to need to rest and sleep, preferably get off your feet for a while, in a bed, under observation. Zipper, we will have to increase his Pervitin and give him a high dose of our special proprietary blend.” He regarded Walter. “This is a highly potent cocktail we developed ourselves. It will keep you going and completely eradicate any pain you may feel.” He turned back to his partner. “Make sure you wrap him tight around the waist, the outer coat will need to be insulated as well.”

  Zipper nodded and set about his work.

  “This is a material we’ve been using in Japan for centuries,” Gray expounded. “Traditionally, it is used by samurai and other swordsmen because it is extremely flexible and tough to slice through. It won’t stop a direct knife or bullet puncture, but it will offer you enough protection and abdominal support.”

  Walter nodded and slowly sat up. “Much obliged, Gray.”

  Zipper began to pile up the supplies he needed on a nearby table.

  “Now, to the million-dollar question, Mister Morris. Where on earth did you get this?” Gray clicked on a light that illuminated a desk immediately in front of him and gestured to the severed arm.

  Walter, a bit confused from the anesthesia, shook his head vigorously and looked up to where Gray was sitting in the shadows. Gray picked up the robotic arm and examined it. It was only then that the memory of the night’s events came flooding back to Walter.

  “Oh, that…I forgot all about that. That’s a little souvenir from some freakshow hit squad I met out on Long Island.”

  Walter carefully laid back down. Zipper adjusted him to a semi-seated position and Walter was propped up.

  “I’m pretty sure I was set up,” he said, “and instead of my missing person being handed over at the meet and greet, I had Frankenstein monsters coming at me, both the Boris Karloff and Glenn Strange versions.”

  Gray had a small pair of pliers in his hand with which he was prodding the arm, fascinated by the mechanics and design. “You may not know how true that statement might actually be. And this came from one of them?”

  “It did.”

  “Then you are an extremely lucky man, Mister Morris.”

  Z
ipper stabbed a hypodermic needle into Walter’s tricep. Walter looked up at him. “I still can’t believe you took out my kidney.”

  Zipper shrugged slightly and started to carefully wrap his abdomen, then whispered, “I’ll put you at the top of the list for a new one.” He playfully winked at Walt and smiled.

  “You have two, Mister Morris. And we could always use another,” Gray said as he inspected the arm.

  Walter placed his hand on the injection area to massage out the sting and he instantly began to feel a whole lot better.

  “Do you understand the magnitude of what you have here?” Gray asked. “This technology is decades ahead of its time. Someone has fused robotics with organic matter.”

  Zipper promptly stopped what he was doing and walked over to take a look. He stood on his tiptoes to see what Gray was examining.

  “Yeah, that was gonna be your payment.” Walter winced, when his fingers found the raw areas on his body. “Not my goddamn kidney.”

  “Are you still going on about that?” Gray said without looking up.

  “Hell yeah, I feel violated.”

  Gray stopped what he was doing and briefly scowled at Walter, then continued examining the arm. “Who can even fathom how something like this can function. How is it not biologically rejected by the body?”

  Zipper nodded at his partner’s fascination.

  “It’s that complex?” Walter asked.

  “That’s an understatement,” Zipper replied, turning his head to answer Walter.

  “This was taken off from a man you came in contact with?” Gray Matter surveyed the rotting flesh that was fused to circuits and different mechanics. “Judging by the size of this arm, he must have been, six foot five, maybe six foot six?”

  “Sounds about right, possibly taller. Like I said, Frankenstein.”

  Zipper walked back over to help Walter, who sat up and threw his legs over the side of table. “You mean Frankenstein’s monster,” he corrected. “Frankenstein was the doctor. Played by Colin Clive, God rest his soul.”