The Doomsday Brunette

by John Zakour

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Do me a favor and stop me the next time I start to do something stupid like that.”

  “Boss, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words.”

  I did my best to regain my composure and rose to meet Ona as she approached.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” she said, impatiently crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “Someone tried to kill me.”

  I stood up and moved away from the body, being careful not to disturb anything else on the scene.

  “Actually Ms. Thompson, that’s not obvious,” I said. “It looks to me more like someone tried to kill your sister and succeeded with flying colors.”

  “Oh, good,” Ona said. “You see that’s the kind of top-notch, deductive reasoning that I was looking for when I hired you. I’m looking beyond the obvious. This was an attempt on my life.”

  “Oh yes, Ona,” Twoa said as she floated toward us, hands majestically upon her hips. “It’s always about you.”

  She landed beside me and held out a red-gloved hand. Her grip was firm but not uncomfortable. Still my hand felt like an egg held gently in an atomic vise. No matter how gentle the actual grip was, it was clear that my hand could be crushed at any nano, with no thought at all. It was unnerving but I couldn’t be certain if Twoa knew that.

  “I’m Twoa Thompson, Mr. Johnson, you can call me Justice Babe. It’s nice to meet a fellow soldier in the battle for truth.”

  Ona rolled her eyes. “Should I cue the music now or did you bring your own?”

  “Nice to meet you, um, Justice Babe,” I said.

  “Please sisters, cease your bickering,” Threa said from the other side of the table. “A great tragedy has befallen us. We should be drawing strength from one another rather than letting our grief tear us asunder.”

  “Oh, here we go,” Ona said. “Guinevere speaketh. This is all I need.”

  Threa’s gown flowed around her mellifluously as she moved to join her sisters. The two tiny nymphs buzzed about her head as she moved, leaving trails of sparkling smoke behind in the air, like skywriters using pixie dust. Their voices sounded like crickets on speed chirping through cotton candy. It took me a nano or two to focus on their sounds but when I did, I recognized it as speech.

  “Yes, mistress.” They said. “You are right, mistress. You are divine, mistress. That’s telling ‘em, mistress.”

  “I refuse to acknowledge the insult inferred by your reference, sister,” Threa said. “Because I know that it is born of grief and fear.”

  “It’s born of annoyance you unicorn kisser,” Ona spat. “Now can we please get back to the attempt on my life?”

  “Can you for just one nano think about something other than yourself?” Twoa said.

  “And what’s the point of that, exactly?”

  I cleared my throat in an attempt to get the attention of the bickering sisters.

  It didn’t work.

  I tried again, a little louder this time.

  Nothing. It was like I wasn’t even there.

  “Maybe a small explosion would work,” HARV whispered.

  In the end, I simply shouted.

  “HEY!”

  The sisters turned their attention to me, albeit begrudgingly and I felt strangely nervous.

  “I understand that you’re all…dealing with this in your own distinct ways but I think we need to go over the basics here. Your sister appears to be dead…”

  “Brilliant,” Ona muttered.

  “…And unless I’m mistaken, Ms. Thompson…

  “Ona,” she corrected.

  “Unless, I’m mistaken, Ona, you’ve hired me to help you. Now in order to help you, I’m going to need to know exactly what happened. So let’s start at the beginning.”

  “You mean when the great goddess brought forth the infant cosmos from her from the infinity of her vagina?” Threa asked.

  “Um, no,” I said. “Let’s fast forward to what happened tonight.”

  “We were meeting for dinner,” Ona began. “A late dinner. Hors douvres served in the drawing room at midnight. The first course to be served at one. After hours dinners will be in vogue this year. It’s so decadent to eat when everyone else is sleeping? The trend should become fashionable any nano.”

  “Just a guess, boss,” HARV said. “But I think this is going to take awhile.”

  “So the four of you met for dinner,” I said.

  “Yes,” said Twoa. “We were about to sit for the first course. Ona opened a bottle of wine.”

  “Romanee-Conti 1975.” Ona interjected. “Only four bottles of which remain in the world. Three of them are currently in my cellar. The fourth, unfortunately, is puddling on the floor.”

  “Sister Ona poured us each a glass,” Threa continued. “We raised our drinks in a show of sisterly unity.”

  “Then Ona started talking about her money.”

  “I was giving a toast.”

  “You were describing your fortune.”

  “And sister Foraa grew impatient.”

  “Always the rebel.”

  “And rude.”

  “She couldn’t take Ona’s rambling anymore and drank, just to get the toast over with.”

  “And that was it?” I asked.

  “She collapsed, rolled around for a while, then died.”

  “Poison in the wine,” I said.

  “Another flash of brilliance from the detective,” Ona mumbled.

  “The police are going to want to run tests on the wine when they get here. Whatever’s left in Foraa’s glass as well as what’s in the bottle.”

  “The police aren’t coming,” Ona said.

  “What?”

  “That’s why I called you,” she explained. “I don’t want this to turn into a public spectacle. I want it handled in-house.”

  “Ona, your sister’s been murdered.”

  “Exactly,” she said. “This is a family matter.”

  “No,” I said. “It’s murder. That means it’s a police matter. We’ll keep it as quiet as possible but you need to report this to the authorities.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said.

  “It’s a crime if you don’t.”

  “It happened under my roof. That makes it under my sovereignty and subject to my laws. And my laws say that whatever I say goes.”

  “Well, that would be true,” I said, “if you were your own country. But unfortunately, you’re a citizen of the New Frisco Principality and as such you are subject to its laws.”

  “You mean even after everything I’ve done for this world, after all the good that I’ve created with my wealth; aiding under-privileged children, funding disease research, driving programs for environmental renewal and reinvention. After devoting my vast fortune to raising the quality of life for every downtrodden person in the first through fourth worlds, I still have to obey these silly New Frisco laws?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “But I’m rich,”

  “Okay then, maybe not all of the laws apply to you but I’m pretty sure about the ones regarding murders that take place in your pyramid.”

  “Ziggurat,” HARV whispered.

  “I mean ziggurat.”

  “I’ll say this one more time, Zachary and then the conversation will be over. We are not calling the police.”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Ona…” the computer said sheepishly.

  “Then I’m off this case,” I said. “And the nano I get out of here, I’m calling the police.”

  “Ms. Ona?”

  “I strongly advise against that course of action.”

  “Ms. Ona…”

  “What is it?” Ona snapped at the computer. “Can’t you see I’m browbeating a minion?”

  “I believe that this debate is about to be rendered moot,” the computer said, “because the New Frisco Police are currently en route.”

  “What? Who notified them?�
�

  “That would be me,” the computer replied.

  “What?”

  “I apologize. It’s just that the situation seemed so…dire and, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “When will they be here?”

  “Within three minutes.”

  Ona sighed and waved the computer voice away.

  “Fine. Make sure the security systems let them through. Let’s not cause any more trouble.” She turned to me. “I guess you get your wish after all, Zach.”

  “Believe me, Ona,” I said, “this is the last thing I’d wish for.”

  “And by the way,” she said. “I don’t like butting heads with my minions.”

  “I don’t break the law. And I’m not a minion.”

  “Not yet,” she said then she turned to her sisters. “Well ladies, hang onto your hats. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

  5

  The good news is that, when we met the police in the foyer a few minutes later, I saw that my old friend, Captain Tony Rickey was the lead officer. The bad news is that the first words out of Tony’s mouth were:

  “DOS, Zach, I was afraid you’d be here.”

  “Tony, you’d be surprised how often I hear that.”

  Tony and I were neighbors growing up on the mean streets of the New Frisco suburbs. We first met when our mothers took us trick or treating together when we were three. Tony’s mother dressed him up as a policeman and he grew up to be the Captain of New Frisco’s 43rd precinct. My Mom dressed me up as a doctor and I grew up…to greatly disappoint her. The bottom line is that Tony and I have a long history together and continue to be the closest of friends, which is a good thing because I tend to get him into all sorts of trouble.

  Tony approached me, hands in his pockets, and flanked on either side by two officers in full gear. The CSI team with their robot assistants followed closely behind. Under most circumstances, Tony and I would have smiled at one another, shaken hands or even greeted each other with a warm (yet manly) hug. But Tony had his police team with him and I had a client with me. Any display of friendship on our part would show a lack of professionalism and undercut our respective authorities. So we nodded to one another when we met and cut to the chase.

  “Where’s the body?”

  “In the dining room,” I said. “I’ll show you the way.” I lead him toward Ona, who was standing away from the crowd, arms crossed, looking attentive and surprisingly vulnerable. “Ona Thompson, Captain Tony Rickey, New Frisco Police.”

  Tony extended his hand. Ona took it gently and gave him a soft smile that sent tingles up my spine.

  “I’m pleased to meet you Ms. Thompson. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” she said in little more than a whisper. “I appreciate your coming so quickly.”

  She touched Tony’s arm like a grieving widow drawing support from a friend and Tony’s demeanor softened.

  “We’re here to help, Ms. Thompson.”

  “Please, call me Ona.”

  “All right, Ona.”

  He patted her shoulder gently and I smiled at the kind way he calmed her fears. I began to feel better about the situation.

  “Don’t fall for it, boss,” HARV said inside my head.

  “Huh?”

  “She’s emanating a high concentration of pheromones. That’s what’s giving you the warm and fuzzy feeling.”

  “Pheromones?”

  “She’s oozing sex, boss. She’s charming Captain Rickey.”

  “She can do that?”

  “It’s one of the many extra-normal abilities the Quads possess,” HARV said, “although this one isn’t listed in their press materials.”

  “Pheromones?”

  I looked at Tony. He was clearly aware of what he was doing but his attitude toward the situation had definitely changed since his arrival. Ona was manipulating him and I didn’t like it.

  “Excuse me, Captain Rickey,” I said, motioning toward the dining room. “The body is this way.”

  Tony looked up, a little confused, and then focused again on the matter at hand.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  Ona gave me a slight smile as Tony moved away. I turned and we all walked together down the hallway. The walls around us morphed into a cascade of hissing vipers. A few of the investigators jumped in fright. One reached for his blaster.

  “Ona,” I said, “is there any way to turn off the holographic décor?”

  “Certainly, I apologize,” she said. “Computer!”

  “As you wish, Miss Ona.”

  The vipers vanished, replaced by elegant (non-moving) walls and some stunning framed artwork.

  “You working for Ona Thompson now?” Tony asked softly as we walked.

  “I’m an old friend of the family,” I said.

  “As of when?”

  “About an hour now. Ona brought me in to help her out.”

  “Does that mean she wants you to find the killer or just make certain that she gets off?”

  “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

  “That would certainly make my life easier.”

  He grinned ever so slightly and we entered the scene of the crime.

  A few minutes later, Tony and the CSI team were fine-toothing the murder scene with their plethora of high-tech combs, searching for DNA, microscopic stray skin cells, residual body heat, energy traces and a few hundred atomic and sub-atomic types of legally recognized evidentiary material. I pointed them toward Foraa’s body, just to make sure they recognized it (sometimes the CSI folks get so caught up in searching for the microscopic trees, they lose sight of the real-life forest). But while they did their hunter/gathering I sat with Ona as she spoke with Tony.

  “And you’re certain that no one else had access to the wine before it was served?”

  “Well, if it turns out that the wine was poisoned, then clearly someone else did, Captain,” Ona replied,.

  “Ona,” I said, “I’m going to say, for the fourth time if I’m remembering correctly, that you should have one of your attorneys here.”

  “Duly noted, Zach,” she replied, “but I don’t think that’s necessary.” She gave Tony a warm smile and touched his hand. “I have nothing to hide. Captain Rickey and I both want the same thing here. Don’t we Captain?”

  “That’s right, Ona,” Tony said with a smile.

  “She’s doing the pheromone trick again,” HARV whispered in my head.

  I cleared my throat uncomfortably and that sort of broke the spell.

  “Ona, who else was in the house during the hours leading up to the murder?”

  “Myself and my sisters, of course. And my butler.”

  “Your butler?” Tony asked.

  “Wintercrescenhavenshivershamshawjamison.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Wintercrescenhavenshivershamshawjamison.”

  “Would you spell that for me?”

  “I’d rather not,” she said. “It’s late. You can call him W. We all do. He’s the last descendent of several famous butler bloodlines or something like that. He was Daddy’s butler, originally.”

  “He runs the household?”

  “Gates, no,” Ona replied. “W is extremely old, slightly senile and totally incompetent in most matters. The computer takes care of household matters. I employ W out of a sense of tradition. Sentimental I know but he’s been with us for so long. I have to say, though, that no one sets a finer table or serves a better tea. It’s a gift really.”

  “I’ll need to speak with him if you don’t mind,” Tony said.

  “Feel free.”

  “Any other staff?” I asked.

  “My security designers,” Ona said, “Sturm and Drang Pfauhan.”

  “Pfauhan.”

  “They’re identical twin cousins. They’re absolute wizards when it comes to home security systems and related applications. The best of the best I’m told. Although this is going to look very bad on their resumes, I must say.�
��

  “Twin cousins?”

  “Absolutely identical. It’s a medical anomaly known as the Patty Duke syndrome. Geneticists and medical scholars were always begging them to take part in one study or another. They did the first few for free. Then they began requiring compensation to be studied. Honestly, there haven’t been many studies done in the past few years. I think the Pfauhauns may have priced themselves out of the market.”

  “We’ll need to speak with them as well,” Tony said.

  “They weren’t at the mansion tonight,” Ona replied. “They had the night off.”

  “You gave your security people the night off on the same night that your three sisters were visiting?”

  “Well, yes, I suppose it sounds suspicious, if you’re going to put it that way,” Ona said. “The security systems were all fully engaged during the entire evening. The mansion is like a fortress, as you’ve seen. And my sisters are capable of taking care of themselves. Or so I thought.

  “Was there anyone else in the mansion?”

  “There’s Opie, of course,” she replied.

  “Opie?”

  “The silverback mountain gorilla that Daddy genetically enhanced before my sisters and I were born.”

  “Opie’s a monkey?”

  “He’s a gorilla, Captain. He’s very sensitive about his genus.”

  “Is he a pet?” I asked.

  “I wonder if he dresses like you,” HARV snickered.

  “As I mentioned, Zach, Opie was genetically enhanced by my father. He was a precursor to the experiment that created my sisters and I. He is a brilliant simian. He has an IQ well above the normal human average and has degrees in several fields of study. None of which, however, bear any relevance to the real world or making a living, so he continues to live with me here at the mansion.”

  “Does he harbor any ill feelings toward you or your sisters?”

  “Oh, who knows? His kind can be fairly irrational.”

  “Apes?”

  Ona shook her head. “Males.”

  A young detective approached and gently tapped Tony on the shoulder.

  “Excuse me, Captain?”

  Tony turned. “What is it, Weber?”

  “We have a…situation in the other room, sir.”

  “What kind of situation?”

  “One of the Quads,” he looked uncomfortably at Ona. “I mean, one of Ms. Thompson’s sisters is requesting a lawyer.”