Something Stinks in Deep Cove (The Vellian Books Book 4)

by Reed, Grant T.

  The little dragon sat at the defendant’s desk all on his own. He was surrounded by several stacks of law books. To his left, Mr. Thompson occupied his own desk, where he read through his compendium of notes. Merle wouldn’t look to his right. In fact, he didn’t have to in order to feel the eyes of the jurors on him. He swallowed uncomfortably and fidgeted with the corner of his Law for Dummies text. Behind him, he could hear Vic talking to Frank in the front row and was comforted by the presence of his friends.

  “All rise,” yelled Bailiff Oppie, entering the courtroom from the adjoining chambers. Judge Perew was close on the man’s heels. “The honourable Judge Perew presiding.”

  “Be seated,” ordered the judge, dropping into his judicial chair. He picked up the folder on his desk and snapped a sheet of paper between his hands as the courtroom quieted. “We have gathered to commence with the trial for case three–zero-four-four: the crown versus Mr. Merle and Mr. Garrett Willigins in the slaying of Mr. Alex Potty by the aforementioned defendant’s golem. A charge of murder one has been levied by the crown, and a plea of not guilty has been entered by the defendants.” Judge Perew lowered his paper and nodded to Mr. Thompson. “You may begin with your opening, Mr. Prosecutor.”

  Wally Thompson stood and adjusted his silk tie before approaching the juror’s box. He stared purposefully at the citizens who were gathered here to perform their civic duty. “Ladies and gentlemen…” he began.

  “Objection,” roared Merle.

  Judge Perew groaned as Thompson spun on his heel to glare at Merle. “What is it?” asked the judge baffled.

  “He’s trying to get the jurors on his side. No doubt his story will be full of inaccuracies about the incident and shine a negative light on my golem helper.”

  “Now I object,” whined Thompson. “That’s speculation.”

  The Judge exhaled, shaking his head. “Lord have mercy,” he mumbled softly. “That handbook under your claws, the blue one, turn to page fifty-six.”

  Merle did as he was bid, his eyes widening at the heading of ‘Opening Statements.’ “Good to know,” he said, flipping a page and skimming the paragraphs. “Guess you’ve read this one before.” He chuckled.

  “I wrote it,” corrected Perew, sitting straight up in his chair. “Now since you obviously haven’t gotten that far, I will oblige you this one time by spoiling the ending of the chapter for you.” He leaned across his desk, his cold eyes boring into the dragon. “YOU DO NOT GET TO INTERRUPT THE PROSECUTOR DURING HIS OPENING STATEMENT. He will extend the same consideration to you, during your opening.” The judge nodded at Thompson to continue. Thompson smirked at Merle and spun back to the jurors, his hands splayed wide in an effort to draw all of their attention from the dragon defendant.

  From behind Merle’s ear, Frank leaned in and whispered “I know a guy who knows a guy…” Merle shooed the minotaur away, without turning.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the events that have occurred here in your town of Deep Cove over the past week are a travesty. A wealthy business partner of this community has been slain, and a son left fatherless. Alex Potty’s good deeds and humanitarianism will be his legacy, though. All the man ever wanted was to help the communities of Vellia, and to create a safer, cleaner environment for our children.”

  A sob echoed in the courtroom, and everyone’s eyes were drawn to Azi and her fiancé. They were seated behind the prosecutor’s desk, and Alex Junior held his girlfriend in his arms, sorrow and hatred etched into his face as he glared at Merle. Azi sniffled loudly behind her black veil, but quieted when Thompson cleared his throat to get the jury’s attention again.

  “The prosecution intends to show you that this ‘Germinator’ is a murderous contrivance, unfit to walk free in our society. He has a violent history and has killed in the past, ladies and gentlemen.” Merle watched as the juror’s faces changed, their eyes growing big with this revelation. “That’s right, folks; the monster that has taken up residence in your sweet town was trained by your government to be the finest of killing machines. We have records we will share with you that clearly show this thing, along with its owners, was enlisted in Renli’s crusades, which sacked the capital of Sung Ti twelve years ago. The Germinator himself was honored as his unit’s top tunnel rat.”

  Merle shook his head. Yes, he and Garrett had killed during their term in Renli’s crusades, but it was war, and a man or a dragon did what he had to do to survive. P.C. on the other hand, only did what he was commanded to do. Digging a tunnel, carrying supplies, or preparing meals for the men was as far from murder as you could get. It was true that one of their squad had died with severe stomach cramps when P.C. was on cooking duty, but that had never been proven to be P.C.’s fault. Merle sighed loudly, but Thompson ignored him and continued.

  “We will also show you, despite the defense’s claims, that this abomination has free will. I’m not kidding folks, this thing is cold and calculating, and it could come after you next!” Thompson waved a hand over the jurors as if casting a spell.

  “All of Alex Potty’s dreams were cut short three nights ago, when the rampaging abomination known as the Germinator, purposefully ended this benevolent man’s life. We intend to prove this with actual police reports, eye witnesses placing the golem at the scene of the crime, an autopsy report filed by Dr. Shing’s assistant, and last, but not least, by the very admission of guilt from the golem itself.

  “Now the defense will claim that he and his partner are not guilty, and that the golem committed this horrible act on its own, but I tell you now, you cannot believe a word that is going to come out of that one’s mouth.” Thompson spun, firing an accusatory finger in Merle’s direction. “For, on the very night in question, do you know where that dragon was?” he allowed a moment of silence before turning to face the jury, again. “He was being arrested, ladies and gentlemen, for buying stolen beer from one of your local companies!”

  “Hey,” barked Merle.

  “That’s all,” said Thompson, ignoring Merle’s indignant cry and heading for his desk. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, when I am through laying out the facts for you, you will have no choice, but to find the defendants guilty as charged.”

  * * * *

  “My team and I have compiled a time line of the night’s events, Your Honour. We would like to submit this into evidence as article one.” Thompson approached the bench and placed a copy of his manuscript on the judge’s counter, before delivering one to Merle. The dragon held his hand out to receive the evidence, but Thompson ignored him and fired the papers onto the desk.

  With a wave to the back of the courtroom, Thompson waited while a young boy maneuvered an easel down the aisle. Accepting the apparatus from the lad, he pushed it in front of the juror’s bench. He flipped the first page to reveal a detailed chart drawn on the second sheet.

  “The Potty family has been in town for a little over two weeks, having come to inspect the development of their new water treatment facility in Deep Cove. On the evening of Wednesday September twenty-eighth, Mr. Alex Potty, his son Alex Junior, and young Alex’s fiancé, had dinner at six p.m. in a local restaurant known as the Pig’s Bottom.” Thompson used a wooden pointer to tap the second box of his diagram, skipping over the first box which was blank.

  “After their meal, the Potty’s returned to their rooms at the Peacock Feather, two streets down from the restaurant, where they changed their clothes and awaited the arrival of a rented coach to take them to their coastal properties for a recognition ceremony in honour of Alex Senior. Their conveyance arrived at approximately seven thirty p.m.” Thompson tapped the third box of his diagram, and turned to the judge. “At this time, Your Honour, I would like to submit articles two and three into evidence. The signed guest book of the Pig’s Bottom, and the receipt for the Potty’s carriage that evening.”

  “Noted,” said Judge Perew. He waved his hand signaling for Bailiff Oppie to retrieve the documents from Thompson.

  “Upon their arrival at the faci
lity, the Potty’s were greeted by no less than seventy employees, a dozen catering staff, and thirteen members of city council. The subsequent celebrations were initiated with a ribbon cutting ceremony,” he tapped the fourth box, “followed by a meet and greet,” a dainty tap followed on the fifth box, “and then a light meal served in the facilities lunchroom at nine o’ clock.” Here he stopped to outline a circle around the sixth box. “The evening was to end with a tour of the facilities by the Potty family, for the members of city council. However, thirty minutes after the meal was served, the defendant’s golem appeared amongst the guests and made a beeline for Alex Potty Senior.” Thompson frowned at the juror’s and made an imaginary cross through box seven which was labeled in large letters ‘Plant Tour’, and instead moved on to box eight, where he made a checking motion with his pointer, which read ‘Severe Beating’. “At this time, Alex Potty Senior was set upon by the enraged Germinator. Mr. Potty sustained a severe beating, which continued for over one minute. The Golem was chased off and pursued by Alex Junior.”

  The Judge scowled as he read along with Thompson’s overview. Merle risked a glance at the jury. Not surprisingly, none of them looked happy either. One old man went so far as to stick his tongue out at Merle. The dragon cleared his throat and leaned toward Frank. He passed the minotaur the timeline supplied by Thompson and ignored the warm grass breath that washed over him from his friend. “We need to verify every minute of this timeline. Start at the restaurant, move to the carriage company, and then to Potty’s employees.”

  “What am I looking for?” whispered the minotaur. “I don’t think you can argue the fact this all happened like he’s laid out.”

  “We’re looking for anyone suspicious that might have wanted the old man dead.”

  “I guess,” snorted Frank, “but even if others wanted to harm the old man, it doesn’t change the fact your golem beat him to death.”

  “Shushhh,” hissed Merle, leaning forward as Thompson spoke again.

  “The security guard on duty rushed Alex Senior from the party and into the lower first aid room. It was here that the old man succumbed to his injuries and died of heart failure.” Thompson’s pointer slammed into the final box on the page, which contained no words, only the crude sketch of a body lying in a pool of blood.

  “Article four, Your Honour,” Thompson approached the bench with a thick compilation of bound papers. “This is the complete entry log for all secured doors at the Potty’s Plant, on the day of the twenty-eighth. Not only does it verify security guard Godle’s movement of the lower evacuation chambers that night, but all movement between secured areas, by all personnel, that day.” Thompson returned to his desk, grabbed a second heavy copy, and slammed it down in front of Merle. “Compliments of Potty’s I.T. guy,” he said snidely.

  Speaking to the jury again, Thompson continued. “Sometime within the next two hours, a narrow tunnel was found beneath the plant, through which the golem gained entrance to the compound. Close examination of the tunnel markings have been matched to the various tools that the monster used for this handiwork. We can only surmise that the golem arrived at the plant sometime between eight and nine o’ clock – as we have the defendant’s and three other statements confirming the golem was at home until then – and then made his way through the bowels of the factory and up into the unsecured lunchroom.” He paused as if daring Merle to object. When the dragon remained silent, he continued.

  “The golem was not seized on the premises after his confrontation with Alex Senior, but instead was chased from the premises by Alex Junior. The golem was apprehended shortly after midnight, when he made his way to the mortuary to which Mr. Potty’s body had been delivered. The golem did not gain entrance into the morgue, but was captured prowling around the outside of the premises. It was apparent to the coroner’s assistant that the golem had returned to defile the body further or perhaps to remove a souvenir from his victim.” The crowd gasped at this vile news, and Merle sighed loudly.

  Thompson handed Merle a thin dossier before delivering the Judge his copy. “Article five is the assistant coroner’s report outlining the trauma done to Potty’s body, with the cause of death listed as heart failure induced by the beating.”

  With his deliveries done, Thompson faced the jury. “I am sure, as intelligent as you folks are, that all of you noticed the first empty box on my chart. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the most important box. Please allow me to fill in the very motive for this wicked act on Mr. Potty. Here, on Tuesday September the twenty-seventh, the defendant and his golem did meet with Mr. Potty and his board of executives for an interview in regard to a position of great prestige within the Potty Corporation. The Potty’s were seeking a spokesperson to host a series of global view infomercials, to outline the good that the water treatment facility will bring to the people of Vellia. This series of ads was planned to air in early December, on four channels across the Dragon Broadcasting Network. When Mr. Potty found fault with the golem’s speech pattern, the automaton attacked Mr. Potty in front of the board of executives. It took three men to pull the abomination off Alex Senior.”

  “Objection,” sang out Merle, regaining some of his combativeness. “I was not present at that particular time, but did ask what set P.C. off that afternoon, and I was told, which I am sure you can verify, that Mr. Potty’s words were “Who invited the retarded golem to this party? My brother has a speech impediment, but I’d hire him before this thing.”

  “Exactly!” shouted Thompson, slapping his hands together. He spun to the jurors, fighting hard to keep the smile from his face. “Sticks and stones, ladies and gentlemen, sticks and stones. Mr. Potty may not have been polite about it, and he was often outspoken in his opinion. A man of his wealth and business acumen could not be bothered with sugar coating things. Was it hurtful? Maybe. It certainly would be hurtful if we were to discover that thing has real feelings.” He paused to allow the implications to sink in. “However, I am sure you will agree that name calling is no excuse for murder!”

  “Overruled,” agreed the judge. Merle sank back into his chair, unhappy that he had spoken.

  “So you see, valued members of this court, an encounter on the twenty-seventh would spark a series of fateful events in Mr. Potty’s life,” he tapped along the boxes of his diagram again, “that would ultimately result in his unwarranted death at the hands of this deranged creation.” He spun, his pointer straight and unwavering as it singalled out P.C. “There can be no question, ladies and gentlemen, here sits your murderer.”

  * * * *

  “This is the medical station?” asked Coral in surprise. She and Frank stood in the narrow corridor outside the roped off doorway. The slim woman leaned across the threshold, a look of amazement on her face.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the tall attendant who had guided them from the upper lunchroom. The police have it roped off, because this is where the old man died. I have orders from Constable Johnson to let you have a look around if you wish.” She nodded, and the fellow unhooked the rope, motioning them into the room.

  “It’s much bigger than I had envisioned,” she confided.

  “Brighter too!” chimed in Frank from over her shoulder.

  The room itself was about twenty feet by twenty feet, and both the walls and floor were inlaid with pristine white tiles. Frank’s observation was due to a series of overhead globes that lit the room, making it seem as if the occupants basked in the noon day sun, even without any windows in the chamber.

  “This is a lot of equipment,” said Coral, trying to take everything in at once. Beside her, a counter stretched ten feet to where it butted up against a large glass cabinet. She could see an array of medical tools and bandages neatly lining its shelves. In the center of the counter, was a double sink and tap. Beside the basin, a dirty towel lay in a crumpled heap, next to an open notebook.

  Across the room an enclosed shower stall, two more storage cabinets, and a hospital bed met her eye. Two wheelie chairs were also
folded against the outside of the stall. All of the walls were covered in medical charts and diagrams, and in the back right hand corner of the room, an entire section of shelving had been dedicated to the showing of an expansive set of medical encyclopedias. Her eyes were drawn to the floor in front of her, where two drops of dried blood were in stark contrast against the white tile.

  Seeing her staring at the droplets, their guide spoke up. “There wasn’t much blood,” he confided, “just those two droplets and one further up the hall. The old man cut his hand when he punched out that golem’s eye and it shattered. I’m pretty sure it was a lucky shot, and Senior’s ring just happened to clip that thing in the right spot. Too bad it didn’t stop it from attacking further.”

  “Hey, dessert!” exclaimed Frank, ignoring the others. The minotaur observed a shiny metal cart to the right of the door. The top of the conveyance contained nothing, but the shelf underneath held a tray of cookies, two tins of muffins, and one large, untouched, double-layer cake. The minotaur’s stomach grumbled loudly, and his right hoof shot out to grab the tin of muffins.

  “The night guard brought Potty’s body down on that,” said the attendant.

  Frank stopped in his tracks, his cheeks puffing out like he might be sick.

  “And you were the health and safety officer on duty that night, Mr. Mathias?”

  “Indeed,” said the man. He was in his late forties with a clean shaven face and slightly receding hairline. “As I mentioned earlier, I was outside when the attack happened on Mr. Potty. I saw several guests burst through the doors of the lunchroom, and I came back inside to see what the fuss was about. Upon hearing of the mauling, I was guided this way by the other employees. The night guard Mr. Godle, in his good sense, had cleared that dessert tray, loaded up Mr. Potty, and brought him straight down here in search of me. It was good thinking on his part, but unfortunately, the beating the old man sustained, sent him into cardiac arrest. By the time I arrived, there was nothing I could do; he was already gone.”