The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3

by Alexie Aaron

  “I’m sorry, Manfred, I’m expecting a call from overseas. I don’t want to miss it. I hope you understand. Business.”

  Manfred signed the check, adding an impressive tip. He looked appeased at my phony baloney excuse and said, “Cynthia, it was a pleasure. We should do this again sometime soon.” He got up and escorted me to the door.

  Manfred held his hand out, and I grasped it firmly. He smiled. “Valet ticket, my dear?”

  Blushing and removing my hand, I stammered, “I parked myself, don’t like the way they drive my car.”

  He pulled out his valet ticket and held open the door for me. I waited for his car to arrive and for him to drive away before painfully making my way to where I had parked my roadster.

  I couldn’t find it at first. It was obscured from my view by a large, white Ford Econovan. The last few yards to the car sealed my vow to hunt down Kenneth Cole and assault him with my shoes. I reached it and popped the trunk. I pulled out my sneakers and walked over and opened the driver’s side door. I remember bending over to unbuckle a shoe and thought I heard someone behind me. I whipped my head around in time to see a cloth-covered hand clamp to my face. I tried not to breath and fought the hand. I tried in vain to twist my body and push out of the car, but my shoes could not gain traction. Soon I felt a wave of dizziness and I blacked out.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Harry’s face grinned at me, and I saw him light a match. “Follow me, Cin,” his voice echoed in my mind. I tried to move my legs to catch up with him, but my feet felt weighted. I looked down and saw I had on block shoes similar to the kind the Frankenstein monster wore. Harry was moving quickly away down a dark passage that took a dog leg to the right. I turned the corner, and out of the blackness Father Williams loomed.

  “Thank God, how did you know?” I asked him.

  “Know what? That you love me?” He smiled cruelly and tapped his dog collar. “Shame on you!” But it wasn’t his voice chiding me but his aunt’s.

  “No, you don’t understand. Help me, Michael!” My words just seemed to irritate him. He turned his back on me and walked away. I was left alone in the dark. I dropped to the floor hard. My arms twisted behind me as I fell. The floor yielded this time, no longer tile but wood.

  I opened my eyes and cleared the nightmare from my head. But waking only took me into another nightmare, this one too real. “Hello?” I said quietly, not expecting an answer but dreading the thought of who or what would answer me.

  There was no light where I was. The air I breathed was humid and stale. The darkness pushed down on me for a moment but my eyes adjusted quickly. I found myself on a wood floor - I suspected the Avery Theatre. I lay on my side, and my cheek felt bruised from where my face contacted the floor when I was dropped. Fighting to stay awake, I tested my body and found my hands bound at the wrists by cable ties, my ankles likewise and my shoes were still on which amazed and horrified me. My shoulders were in agony from the pressure of having my hands bound behind me. I wiggled my fingers and moved them as far as my binding would let me up my back. By some miracle the knife was still there.

  I grabbed the taped knife along with a handful of dress fabric and pulled at it, working it until the tape gave. I felt the knife drop and I wiggled my body until I was able to with gut wrenching pain sit up. The hem of my dress had ridden up to my waist, no time for modesty, as I continued to twist and turn my body until I heard the knife hit the floor behind me. I stopped breathing for a moment, straining my ears to see if my kidnapper had heard the sound. No one came.

  Frantically, my fingers sought the knife. Finally I felt the cold steel of the switchblade. I concentrated until I had it securely in my hands, and I opened it. The blade faced away from me. I breathed deeply to calm my shaking hands. Guiding the knife between my bonds and my skin, I sawed at the unyielding plastic.

  I dropped the knife as the bounds fell free. It took me too many precious seconds before I located it again. Next I reached between my legs and with a firm hold on the knife sawed through the double ties around my ankles. I pulled my legs in towards me and tried to remove the stiletto shoes to no avail. The bastard had duck taped the torture devices to my feet. I tugged and looked for some way of cutting through the tape. There must have been a half a roll of tape on each shoe, crisscrossing around and around until the shoe was now part of my foot.

  The string of curses that formed in my mind was stopped as I didn’t want to alert my captor to my state of consciousness, if he was in earshot. How the hell was I going to get to my feet, let alone walk in the dark on these stilts? I closed the knife, keeping it in my right hand ready for whatever befell me next. Rolling over I got on my hands and knees. I carefully drew one knee forward until I had the shod foot under me securely. I brought the other in until I was squatting, teetering for a moment. I thanked God I wasn’t in a pencil skirt as the freeness of my short dress allowed me to, in a very unladylike manner, pull myself upward with my taxed and burning thigh muscles.

  It seemed like it took hours, but in reality it was only seconds. I stood, stretching anything that would stretch. I pulled down the skirt of my dress as far as it would go. I gripped the closed knife in my hand, positioned to open the blade at the slightest sound.

  I took a few tentative steps and found a wall in front of me. I ran my hand along it until I felt a door. To my surprise it wasn’t locked. Quietly with slow movements, I twisted the nob and opened the door. I found myself at the rear of the stage. My temporary prison was an empty equipment room. There was more light here, given grudgingly by the exit signs that glowed red and white in the distance. I walked to the nearest door and found it was locked and chained. I tried each door as I came to it and found that I may have escaped from my bounds but I was secured in a bigger cage.

  I walked to the center of the stage and peered out into the dimly lit audience. I felt the stage shudder, and I stepped back just in time as the front part of the stage started to lower. Under normal conditions this would transform into a place for the orchestra or band during a musical or revue. The outer wall would shield the band from the sight of the audience. There were exits on either side leading to the lower levels of the theater. I knew from past experience that the controls were downstairs. Once the stage was lowered, a trap door groaned and lowered behind me. It scared the shit out of me. I stumbled to the side just as a spotlight hit me in the face.

  “Careful, my dear,” Manfred’s voice boomed through the theater’s sound system.

  “Manfred?” I put my hand up to shield my eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “Come on, Cynthia, you are a better player than that. I am here for you.”

  Another groan signaled the ascent of the trap door platform. I couldn’t see anything with the spot on me. I was just about ready to flee when the spot cut off on me and centered on the contents of the trap platform. Doctor Sanders stood with out-reached arms, one hand holding a baton, the other flowers. I inched closer and saw that, like Carl, his eyes were open and he was dead. Flower blossoms were stuffed in his mouth, ears, and nose. There were flowers under his tux shirt, coming out of the sleeves and pockets of his black coat and tails, and there were flowers shoved in his shoes.

  I wanted to scream and run away. The high-heeled shoes wouldn’t get me far, but with enough stealth I could hide myself until the cavalry came to the rescue. Where were they? Were they waiting in the wings? Hello, my brain shouted. Olly olly in come free! Alex? Harry? Where are you? Panic set in, and I stopped breathing. Was I alone? What trick of fate had put me at the mercy of Manfred and, most certainly, Tobias? A tear fell from my eye. I almost gave into the dark, but damn, I had survived worse, and if I kept my wits about me I could certainly outfox my captors. I focused and made myself take in slow careful breaths until I could stand there without shaking. Harry’s voice filled my head, “This killer is counting on you to do your normal Fin-Lathen thing. You have to think different here.”

  I settled myself down and faced the thea
ter. “Very colorful. Doctor of Botany exposed. Must have taken some time. Are those lilies of the valley?” I reached over and plucked a stem out of Doctor Sanders’s lapel. “Convallaria majalis. Very good. Did you have them shipped?” Okay, guys, time to come to my rescue. No one. God help me. I struggled to keep in control. “This explains the missing conductor, but where is Tony?”

  “He is here. I believe Tobias is playing with him.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “He was very dismissive of Tobias and I. Treated us like we did not matter. He did not even have us on his top five suspect list.”

  “How would you know?”

  “We asked him. He had the audacity to laugh in our faces.” Manfred put the spot back on me. “So, how have you been enjoying the game we have been playing? No, do not tell me. I can see it on your face. Hmm?”

  “Actually, I was just thinking that you are pretty poor at planning. Killing one cop is well, poor form, but two is amateurish.” I eased back on one leg and tried to look bored. “What were you thinking? You could have caught Miles any time. But you had to be a show off and kill him right after our meeting.” I walked right up to the edge of the pit. “Tell me, were you listening in?” I laughed. “How pathetic. I’m leaving.” I turned to walk with as much dignity as I could in my shoes.

  “Cynthia, what about Tony?” Manfred’s voice showed a slight tremor.

  I turned back around. “I assume he is dead already. Prematurely killed. Tell me. Is premature a life style for you?” I tapped my foot. “Play your little games.” I started to leave, then stopped. “You blew it. You almost impressed me.”

  “What do you mean almost?” Manfred was pissed.

  “You started off strong. You used plant poisons, and then you copped out and used arsenic. Come on. Right there you went flaccid. Great clues, great messages, great timing and then you use arsenic? So common.” I paused shaking my head. Staring straight into the light, I addressed Manfred, “I used to like you. I ran all the way to save you and Tobias, and then you play a lame hand and kill two cops.”

  “Only one cop,” Manfred clarified.

  So Tony was still alive. Okay, Dave, where are your men? Damn. Keep cool, Cin. I told myself. “You reused poisons. Curare, take me to a freaking Tarzan movie. Now Carl, that was cool. Very theatric. You - or was it Tobias - faced him and killed him.” I waited for an answer. None came. I heard a slight movement in the pit under me. I inched my way to the edge. I saw Tony’s white shirt against the darkness. Where was Tobias? “Oh, are you too intimidated to talk to me? Hell, I have better things to do.” I jumped into the pit for effect.

  As I was falling, I thought that this probably was the stupidest thing I have ever done. Jump into the pool with the sharks why don’t you, Cin. Idiot! I landed, surprised that my shoes held. I regained my balance, turned and put my back to the solid wall. I opened the knife and held it the way Brent showed me. I stared into the darkness of the pit. The one benefit to my eye condition I discovered was that I could see very well in the dark. Before me was a white cloth-covered table and two chairs. On the table were wine glasses and a bottle of red. It looked as if someone was setting a scene.

  A sliding sound directed my gaze away, and I saw Tobias inching around trying to come up on the other side of me. He had something in his hand. I didn’t wait to find out what it was. I lunged forward and slashed at his arm causing him to drop the spray bottle he was holding. It clattered to the floor. Tobias didn’t even make a sound. He calmly slid his hand into his pocket and came up with a syringe and punched it into the direction of my chest. I slashed at him a second time, catching his outstretched arm. The needle went flying. I slashed again. This time I connected with his abdomen. He still didn’t make a sound, but he did fall. I waited a moment, and he didn’t move.

  “That’s for Carl, you weasel.” I ran over to where I had spotted Tony. I reached over and found him unconscious but still alive. I dragged him out of the pit and over towards the stairs and cut his bonds with the bloody knife. I shook and slapped his face to awaken him. He was trying to open his eyes, but whatever he was drugged with was too strong. It became apparent that he wasn’t going to be able to help me.

  Summoning all my strength, I lifted him under his arms and looked for some place safe to stash him. I caught sight of a curtained alcove. I pulled him into the recess, closed the curtain, and ran - more like model stomped - out of there. I hit the steps two at a time, my thighs burning as I hauled myself up the stairs and ran back on to the stage. I stopped at the stage manager’s desk to catch my breath. Mary mother of God was with me. There on the desk - left no doubt by a college vocal major -were several very useful items.

  Having no purse or even a plastic sack to carry the bounty, I cursed until I was served with flash of inspiration. I smiled as I put an atomizer and digital recorder inside the outer leg of my panties like a Wimbledon player would store her tennis balls. If I played my cards right I would get Manfred to boast his crimes. Get it on the recorder for the police.

  I entered the seating area of the theater through a side stair. There didn’t seem to be any movement above me. Manfred must be on the move.

  Where were Alex and Harry? Damn it, Dave, what went wrong? I was scanning the rows as I ran up and out into the lobby. Where were the police? I picked up the payphone receiver only to find the cord had been cut. Did I have enough time to reach Miles’s office upstairs? If Manfred was manning the spot, then he was up in the balcony. So I would have to be wary. I started for the stairs when I heard the elevator coming down. I stomped over to the solo lift and turned around, scanning the area to find my best advantage.

  Benches lined the walls opposite with comfy cushions on them. I stopped, pulled out the recorder, pressed record, and set it on the cushion behind me. I sat down with my back against the wall with my legs crossed, positioned directly in front of the elevator door. I winced as I studied the silver tape that wound around my ankle and foot covering my shoe. The removal of the tape would ruin my expensive shoes. True, I hated these shoes, but it was the principal of the thing that angered me.

  I took a deep breath as the elevator arrived, and a very dapper Manfred walked out. He looked surprised to see me sitting there. He blinked several times not trusting his eyes. I waved at him casually.

  “So.” I leaned back looking bored. “You want to play?” I drew out the bloody knife and began to clean my nails with it. It was so grossing me out, I hoped it was having the same effect on Manfred.

  He retreated and backed against the wall of the elevator.

  “Impress me,” I dared.

  “Are you wondering where the police are? Tobias already took them out of play. Their trap is their funeral.”

  I screamed “no” in my head. I quickly pushed it away as my hysteria wasn’t going to keep them safe. Plus, Manfred said is and not was. I sighed, appearing bored and spoke, “Prove it.”

  “They are locked between the library and the theater. I too have used that shortcut a time or two recently.” He was calm now and walked to the front of the elevator. “I was thinking of a little cyanide. Take them all out at once.”

  “Cyanide gas? Oh please, Manfred, done and done.”

  “Do you not care?” He was incredulous. I took in his manner, and I saw his hands were shaking.

  Ah, I thought, you’re losing your confidence, you bastard. You are nothing without Tobias there to back you up. I got up and walked over to the elevator, swinging my hips as if I didn’t have a care in the world.

  “Care? Oh I care. But I like winning. Granted you poison far better than you play that pathetic instrument. Coming at me with devil’s trumpet? Was that your idea or Tobias’s?”

  “Mine. Tobias wanted something more convulsive.”

  “Probably strychnine. Well, thank you for the fabulous high. Although, it wasn’t very controlled. Ah, control. Do you get your jollies controlling poor Tobias? Abusing his man crush for you, making him your slave?”


  “Crude, very crude.”

  “Ah come on, Manfred. I thought you liked me. All those flowers.”

  “That was Tobias.”

  “The love letter?”

  “Tobias.”

  “What’s the matter, you lose your nerve? Tobias, gee, maybe I shouldn’t have killed him.”

  “Impossible.”

  “I’ve killed before.”

  “England.”

  “Yes. England. Do you know what a pleasure it is to feel all that warm blood pumping out over your hands? Tell me, by the time you stuck Carl, his blood wasn’t even good enough for a splash was it?”

  “You are a sick woman.” Manfred shuddered. “I wasted my time on you.”

  I walked closer to him. “Do you think that your testaments were good enough for me?”

  “I killed Carl because he was a pompous ass, thought he could waste everybody’s time - everybody’s time, not just yours.”

  “I can’t argue with you there.” I leaned against the side of the elevator, wrapping my foot around to stop the door from closing.

  “I killed Cheryl because she took up precious time. We did not have breaks because of her. I did you a favor. She copied you, talk about crushes. The poor creature, you wouldn’t give her the time of day.”

  “Of course not. I’m the original,” I said arrogantly.

  “Miles was supposed to look like an accident. That he was too stupid to remember where he put the poison. Tobias and I had so much fun watching the cavalry come to the rescue.”

  “I ruined a pair of shoes over you two. But I did stop you from killing Miles that first time.”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re a poor looser. Is that why you couldn’t let him live?”

  “I do not like to leave things unfinished.” Manfred brushed past me out of the elevator.

  I followed him. Was he nervous? Why were his hands shaking? I must be getting to him. “Why the cop?”