The Doomsday Brunette

by John Zakour

  Don't let Ms. Thompson's computer catch you staring…

  Then it hit me.

  “Boss, you’re getting that far off and unfocused look on your face again,” HARV said. “That means you’ve either had a revelation about the case or that you ate a bad burrito. Frankly, it’s a little early in the game for revelations so I’m guessing that we need an acid stopper.”

  “Shut up, HARV, you’re killing the moment,” I said. “We need to find Ona.”

  “You know, your mother’s right about your hostility.”

  8

  We found Ona in the drawing room, fidgeting with her jewelry. A couple of Tony’s officers were keeping her company, and for some reason were silently doing the old YMCA dance.

  “What did you do to them?” I asked.

  Ona shrugged her shoulders and pouted just a bit petulantly.

  “It’s a hypnosis trick that my sisters and I used to play on people,” she said.

  “Make them stop.”

  “I was bored.”

  “Your sister was murdered tonight,” I said. “Your playing with the minds of the police doesn’t reflect well on your innocence. Now make them stop.”

  Ona sighed.

  “Want to see them do the freaky geeky?”

  “Ona!”

  “Alright, alright. You know, I think you’re starting to forget who the bossy bitch is supposed to be around here.”

  She snapped her fingers and the two officers stopped dancing and came to their senses. They looked at one another, their arms still in the “M” position and then uncomfortably turned away and straightened their uniform shirts.

  “Excuse me, officers,” I said.

  They turned to me, grateful for a work-related distraction.

  “I’d like a few nanos alone with my client, please.”

  They nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them. I turned back to Ona, who was inspecting her fingernails.

  “Okay, first bit of advice,” I said. “Behave yourself. No more mind tricks. No more pheromone flirting. No more hissy fits.”

  “I haven’t thrown any hissy fits.”

  “I know. But you’ve done everything else so I figured that couldn’t be too far off.”

  “How puerile do you think I am?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ve only just met you,” I said. “Now please, promise me, behave yourself. At least try to seem like you’re upset.”

  “I am upset.”

  “Well, try a little harder to show it, in a non-bratty way. The better you behave with the police, the better they’ll treat you. You don’t want to give them an excuse to doubt your innocence. They already have enough.”

  “Fine,” she said. “I’ll behave. What else?”

  “You have to be honest with me now.”

  “Of course.”

  “I mean totally honest. Completely, absolutely, utterly,

  “How about redundantly?” HARV said.

  “I get the point,” Ona said.

  “Did you kill your sister?”

  She stared at me for a long angry nano, trying very hard, it seemed to melt me with her vision (and my forehead actually got a little hot, which sort of worried me).

  “No,” she said. “I didn't.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Good. Call your computer in here.”

  “I don't need to.”

  “I know,” I said. “But call it anyway.”

  “Computer?”

  “Yes, Ms. Thompson,” the computer voice said.

  “Computer, you've been kind of quiet since the police arrived.” I said.

  “I am programmed to be discreet,” the computer replied. “I only make my presence known when needed.”

  “Yet you lectured me on Erte.”

  “I thought you would find it interesting,” the computer said. “I hope I didn't disturb you.”

  “You were watching me.”

  “Not specifically you, sir. I monitor the household.”

  “So you were watching the dining room when Foraa was murdered.”

  “I….yes. I was.”

  “You recorded it didn't you?”

  “Surely not,” Ona cried. “It doesn't record everything we do.”

  “Every computer records what it sees, Ona,” I said. “Computers have memory just as we do. The only difference is that they can instantly recall and replay their memory for us to see. Can't you, computer?”

  Silence.

  “I like where this is heading,” HARV whispered.

  “You record everything. That’s correct, isn’t it computer?”

  “Yes,” it replied.

  “So you've seen me naked?” Ona asked.

  “Ona, can we stay on subject here?” I said. “Your computer is going to replay Foraa's death for us. Isn't that right, computer?”

  “If Ms. Thompson wishes.”

  I turned to Ona. She swallowed and then gave a dismissive wave with her hand.

  “Whatever.”

  “Then kindly turn your attention to the wall screen on your right,” the computer said. “How long before Ms. Foraa's death would you like me to begin?”

  “Five minutes will do for a start. I'll let you know if I want to go back further.”

  “As you wish.”

  The lights in the room dimmed slightly as the wall screen brightened. Digitally reproduced images appeared on the screen and Ona, HARV and I watched the murder unfold.

  9

  Ona gestured grandly about the room as she led her sisters to the table. She was smiling, her beauty in full radiance. The playback on the wall screen was brilliantly clear. Every color and nuance of the scene was vividly reproduced. It made me uncomfortable watching something so clearly that I knew would end in death.

  “Computer, how many views do you have of this scene?” I asked.

  “Four actual positions,” the computer replied, “but I can extrapolate and give you views from any of a thousand different angles of any given nano.”

  “Let’s stick to the actual feeds for now,” I said. “Let me see all four angles. Sync them and put them all on the screen.”

  “That might make the action difficult to follow.”

  “The police are going to go over every micron of these images. I need to make sure they don't see anything that we don't already know about.”

  The single view of Ona and her sisters on the screen broke apart and became four distinct images, all from different angles, all synchronously-timed to one another.

  “Is that suitable?” the computer asked.

  “It’s fine, thanks,” I replied.

  “Hush, Zach,” Ona said as she slapped me playfully on the arm and motioned toward the screen. “I'm speaking now.”

  Back on the screen, Ona took her place at the table.

  “I’ll say once again, how happy I am that you could all come this evening on such short notice,” she said, “although I’m sure your schedules can’t be nearly as full as mine.”

  “Yes,” Foraa mumbled, “being a whore must be so demanding.”

  “Please, Foraa, don’t be so cruel,” Twoa said. “Whore’s actually work for a living.”

  I winced a bit at that one. “Looks like the party was in full swing by this point.”

  “Oh, who pays attention to the dialogue,” Ona replied, still staring at the screen. “Don’t I look lovely? My dress had been constructed just three hours prior to that nano. It was so fresh. Of course, I’ll have to throw it away now. Fashion gets stale after the first six hours. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I will if it will stop you from talking about it.”

  We turned our attention back to the wallscreen as Twoa, Threa, and Foraa followed their eldest sister’s gestured commands and took their places in an odd configuration about the table. Ona (not surprisingly) sat at the head. Two and Threa sat beside one another along one side. Foraa sat at the foot.

  “Why are you sitting that
way?” I asked. “Why not sit one to a side?”

  “Shhh. We’re about to fight about just that very thing.”

  “W worked especially hard on the table for this evening,” Ona said. “He began four days ago. Six if you count the polishing. Sadly, he’s not as fast as he used to be, but I think you’ll agree that everything is perfect.”

  “Or at least very nearly,” Foraa said as she gently touched her setting with a gloved hand.”

  “Sister Ona, why must we continue to sit in this formation?” Threa asked, as she circled her chair.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sitting at the table like this,” Twoa said. “Why do we have to continue to sit this way?”

  “We've always sat this way?” Ona replied.”

  “We sat this way when we were children,” Foraa said, punctuating her words with finger points. “You at that end, Twoa and Threa on one side, me at this end, and Daddy over there.”

  “Yes, why are you always at the head of the table?” Twoa asked.

  “Where else would I be?”

  “I thought I was at the head?” Foraa said.

  “You're at the foot, sister,” Threa said.

  “Daddy always told me that I sat at the head.”

  “He lied to you, dear,” Ona replied. “I'm at the head. That's the way it's always been. Me, Twoa, Threa and then you at the foot.”

  “And Daddy at the right hand,” Twoa said.

  “Yes,” Ona agreed, “and Daddy at the right hand.”

  “But Daddy's no longer here.”

  “I know that,” Ona said.

  “So, why do we have to keep sitting this way?”

  “What other way would we sit?”

  “Why can't I sit on that side?” Twoa asked motioning toward the empty side of the table.

  “You want to sit on that side?”

  “Well, why can't I? It would be fair. That way we’d each have a side to ourselves.”

  “You really want to sit on that side of the table?”

  Twoa thought for a nano, clearly running through the possible embarrassing scenarios that could occur if she answered truthfully. In the end, she took a breath and spoke.

  “Well…yes.”

  “Fine. Go ahead,” Ona said, politely gesturing to the opposite side. “Why don't you just move over onto that side of the table? I'll just wake W and tell him that there's been a change in seating plans and that he needs to redo the settings. He'll totter down here in an hour or so because he's over a hundred years old now and start re-setting the table. And because it's only one setting it will just take him about four and a half hours at which point this entire DOSsing dinner will be ruined because it will be DOSsing breakfast time by then and what’s the point of having a four hour old, cold dinner at breakfast time!?”

  The sisters sat silently as the echoes of Ona’s words gently faded in the large room.

  “Fine,” Twoa said, sitting in her original chair. “I’ll sit here.”

  “That’s a good girl,” Ona said.

  More silence, broken at last by Foraa.

  “Are you sure that I’m not at the head?”

  “Enough talk of body parts and dead fathers,” Ona said as she gently lifted a bottle of wine. “We’re here to discuss the future and the wonderful things ahead for all of us.”

  “Here, here,” Threa said.

  “Huzzah, huzzah,” the nymphs cried and buzzed about the table, tiny clouds of glitter-dust floating in their wakes like tinkerbell exhaust.

  “I just want to say,” Ona began, “that, even after everything I’ve done for this world, after all the good that I’ve created with my wealth…”

  “Threa can’t you at least try to control awful those things,” Twoa said, swatting at Threa’s nymphs as they flew by her ears. “I think breathing the second hand glitter-dust causes cancer.”

  “LeFay, LeFee, LeFaue, restrain your joy,” Threa said, as she and Twoa glared at one another.

  Immediately the nymphs stopped their fluttering. They hovered above the table for a nano, gave out one more puff of glitter-dust and then returned to Threa’s side.

  Ona cleared her throat, clearly a little perturbed at the interruption and continued with her speech. “As I was saying, 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 …”

  “Honestly, Threa,” Twoa said angrily, “I don’t understand why you surround yourself with those imbecilic playthings.”

  “They’re my familiars,” Threa said. “They’re gentle, magical creatures who possess more beauty and grace than any of your insipid super hero trappings.”

  “Insipid? I’m fighting for justice.”

  “Oh please, sister, you couldn’t spell justice if it wasn’t monogrammed onto your spandex.”

  The nymphs laughed and let loose another glitter-dust cloud.

  “That’s enough, ladies,” Ona said.

  One nymph flew to Twoa and hovered a few centimeters from her chest, staring comedically at her crop top covered breasts.

  “J-U-S…Double-D, I mean, T.”

  “That’s it,” Twoa said.

  She swatted the nymph away. It flew across the room to the far wall where it ricocheted to the ceiling, then the floor then to the other walls, screaming all the way.

  The two remaining nymphs let out screams of rage and leapt at Twoa, pulling at her hair and slashing at her cheeks with their tiny knives.

  “Slay the super bitch,” they cried.

  The table instantly became a cacophony of flailing arms, angry shouts and clouds of glitter-dust as Twoa swatted at the angry nymphs, Threa tried to protect them and Ona angrily tried to regain the spotlight. In the end, Ona silenced the chaos with a great, piercing shriek that actually shook the walls of the room when it came over the computer speakers.

  “STOP…RIGHT…NOW!”

  And, on command, everyone froze in their positions. Twoa was left holding two of the nymphs by their throats. Threa had her hands on Twoa’s arm. The third nymph, somewhat dazed and bruised from having bounced around the room, lay in an empty wineglass.

  And Foraa sat calmly in her chair, arms crossed and smiling.

  “I swear,” Ona said through gritted teeth, “I will personally kill the next person who makes a move.”

  I turned away from the screen and looked at Ona. “That was sort of an unfortunate choice of words.”

  “Yes, well, in hindsight, I suppose you’re right,” Ona muttered.

  Back on the screen Ona had once again regained control of the situation.

  “I brought you all here for dinner,” she said. “I have gone to great lengths to put this evening together and I intend to make certain that each and every one of you enjoys it.” She turned to Twoa. “Twoa, release the nymphs.”

  Twoa did as she was told and the nymphs fluttered in the air, gently rubbing their throats.

  “Threa,” Ona continued, “control your familiars or I’ll have them pureed and fed to Opie’s pet iguanas.”

  The two nymphs flew back to Threa and huddled together on her shoulder.

  “And Foraa,” Ona said. “Stop smiling.”

  “I can’t, Ona. You’re all so pathetically hilarious.”

  “Well, then at least pretend that you’re laughing with these dolts rather than at them.”

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good.”

  Ona picked the wine bottle up again and, without letting her imperious gaze leave her sisters, popped the cork with a corkscrew and set the bottle down authoritatively in front of her.

  “Now, while we let the wine breathe for a few nanos,” she said, “as I was saying…”

  Something brushed gently by my leg as I watched the screen. I looked down and saw a small server bot, carrying a crystal goblet of water on a tiny, ornate tray. The bot rolled past me and stopped in front o
f Ona.

  “After everything I’ve done for this world…”

  “Excuse me, Ms. Thompson,” the computer said. “The water that you requested has arrived.”

  Ona turned her attention away from the screen and glanced at the bot by her feet.

  “I didn’t request any water, did I?”

  “…after all the good that I’ve created with my wealth; aiding under-privileged children, funding disease research…”

  “It was just before you entered the room, Madam,” the computer responded.

  “Well then, what took you so long?” she said, taking the glass.

  “…After devoting my vast fortune to raising the quality of life for every downtrodden person in the first through fourth worlds, I just want to say…”

  “I apologize,” the computer said. “Things aren’t running as smoothly as they normally do, what with the murder and all.”

  “Do you two mind?” I said, “I’m trying to watch this.”

  “…that it is you, my family that is still foremost in my heart.”

  There was a long, very awkward silence at the table as the sisters all looked at one another uncomfortably. Then Foraa burst into laughter. She was followed by Twoa, then Threa and her nymphs.

  “What’s so funny?” Ona asked.

  “I can’t believe you just gave us the ‘great humanitarian’ speech,” Foraa said between guffaws.

  “You’ve been using that for years, sister,” Threa laughed.

  “You didn’t even bother to prepare something original for the occasion?” Twoa chuckled.

  “I did too,” Ona said. “I just haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

  “Whatever,” Foraa laughed.

  Ona grabbed the wine bottle and banged it on the table like a judge’s gavel and gave her sisters another steely gaze.

  “Look,” she said, “I am trying very hard here to be civil, which, as you all know, does not come easy for me. So I would appreciate it if you could all just set your longstanding animosities toward me aside for this one evening and let me say my piece without being mocked.”

  The laughter died down and Ona smiled ever-so-slightly. Then she began pouring the wine into the first glass, her gaze never once straying from her sisters.

  “Unless there are further objections, we are going to take this priceless bottle of wine and drink it in celebration of our new era of renewed friendship and familial spirit. Now, does anyone have a problem with that?”