Sand City Murders

by MK Alexander

  “What’s with the blindfold?” I asked.

  “I am charting a course, and for now I don’t want Mortimer to know where he is, or where he may be going.” Fynn looked up at the sky. “The moon is so very bright this evening, I can hardly see a single star…”

  “You expect to dump me somewhere, Tractus? Like before? Ha, it’s no longer in your power to do so,” Mortimer spoke again.

  “And why is that?” Fynn asked.

  “No reason,” he replied with an obvious smirk.

  “I will say I’m baffled by your newfound abilities and I readily admit I cannot hope to match them,” Fynn said. “Perhaps you’d care to explain?”

  “Not particularly,” Mortimer hesitated. “This is my new secret, isn’t it, Fynn? I can run circles around you.” He grinned. “And I’ve always been better at mathematics…”

  “As I’ve witnessed so well. I can surmise you’ve traveled far into the future and gained some additional knowledge, perhaps even some sort of technology… This seems clear enough. But without your jackal, you are quite helpless. At my mercy so to speak.”

  “You are only fooling yourself, Fynn,” Mortimer said in an angry tone. “You and your precious awareness…your one true timeline… You are completely unaware of your other self, as he is unaware of you.”

  “My other self?” Fynn asked. “Oh yes, my mythical doppelgänger whom I’ve yet to meet.” He laughed doubtfully.

  “My other self is still at large and he has a cane just like this one. There’s nowhere to hide for you,” Mortimer warned.

  “Oh yes, one of your twins…” Fynn said with uncharacteristic impatience. “I’ve yet to see any evidence of this— just your incessant chattering. I would like to see the two of you in the same place at the same time, right now, in front of my eyes…” Fynn paused. “Ah, but you cannot show me this, because your doppelgängers do not exist, they are not real.” Fynn smiled to himself. “You did reveal something important though. I don’t know if this was your intent.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You said no more soft jumps for you… only hard ones. I find this most curious. Also to do with your supposed twins, I’ll venture to guess.”

  “That’s right. A doppelgänger is created every time I jump now, and you cannot prevent this,” Mortimer said then paused. “Not all are very successful, I will concede this point.”

  “I am quite sure they are all as insane as you.”

  “If you were to return my cane just for a moment, I would be happy to demonstrate.”

  “Of course… why not?” Fynn said with more than a trace of sarcasm, but did not move from his seat.

  “You have entangled us, Tractus, our fates are now sealed.”

  “It’s all so preposterous.”

  “Ah, but you, Fynn, I know what you do, and what you don’t. You refuse to travel back to the old days anymore, the days when the Keepers saw to everything.”

  Fynn completely ignored him, and Mortimer spoke to me instead: “Tell me, Mr Jardel,” he began, “and I assume it is you, since I don’t have the benefit of vision at the moment,” Mortimer started. “I suppose you believe everything this man has said. Did it ever occur to you that he has been lying? Manipulating you for his own purposes?”

  “Why would he?”

  “To suit his own needs,” Mortimer continued, “And what stories did he tell you? Did he tell you how he plied me with absinthe and threw me off a Paris rooftop? Or how he trapped me for thirty years on that damn island? Did he mention to you that he intended to have me beheaded in Istanbul?”

  “He’s exaggerating of course,” Fynn said and smiled, then turned away. “If you were beheaded, surely, you would not be here now talking to us.”

  “I see your sense of humor is still intact.” Mortimer gave an amused chuckle. “He merely used you to get to me.”

  “What?”

  “You are just his canary in the coal mine, that’s all. You are expendable to him.”

  I turned to Fynn.

  “What he says is true to some extent. You are my canary. Only you could see the changes in this timeline that is so familiar to you.”

  “Chirp, chirp…” Mortimer spoke the words with biting effect.

  “Patrick does what he wants. I have no hold over him. He chooses to help or he does not. He is my friend— something you know nothing about— friends, that is.”

  Mortimer sat silently for a moment. “This man, a traveler? Never…”

  “You don’t remember him then?” Fynn asked.

  “No. Why should I? Our paths have never crossed.” Mortimer paused again as if trying to recall. “So you are one of us, eh?” he asked me.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you would. But you believe him? You believe Fynn? All this prattling on about his rules of travel, his concurrent existences, the one true timeline. It’s utter nonsense.” Mortimer stopped and turned his head to the side. “Then tell me, Mr Jardel, do you know that you were followed here?”

  “What?” This surprised me.

  “There’s some one else here… just beyond those trees on the path…. I can hear them plainly.”

  I turned to look. Mortimer was correct. A dark figure walked out from the shadows into the moonlight. It was Joey.

  “What the hell?”

  “Ah, I know this one… I recognize his footsteps, my good friend, the puzzle-maker. Welcome, Mr Joey. I’m glad you could join our private little fete,” Mortimer called out to him.

  “You know this guy?” I turned and asked, astonished.

  “Sure, it’s Mel’s husband, Julian,” Joey said and came forward.

  “Ah, it’s two versus two now, my odds have greatly improved.”

  “You helped this guy?”

  “Helped him? You mean the treasure thing?” Joey looked a bit confused.

  “What are you talking about, Joey?”

  “The marketing. You know, packaging the whole thing… the compass, the journal, the map, the chocolate doubloons?”

  “Jesus…” I sighed, and with some relief.

  “Perhaps friend is too strong a word,” Mortimer said with a laugh and paused. “I know where it’s buried by the way… not too far from here actually. Fifty paces north by northwest from the old graveyard.”

  Joey’s grin collapsed. “What’s going on, Patrick?”

  “It’s complicated… What the heck are you doing here anyhow?”

  “I don’t know. I just wanted to see what was going on. Make sure you’re okay.”

  “Oh. Well, thanks...”

  The unmistakable sound of a bicycle came next; the clicking of a chain, tires singing against pavement. It was an unlikely time to be riding, as late as it was. Then a small blue light appeared at the top of the hill to our right. I saw it blinking against the giant oaks. Then there was a single white light as well, and the cyclist came speeding down the hill to a skidding stop.

  “Bike patrol,” the rider said. It was Durbin looking almost ridiculous in his tuxedo and a helmet. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “This madman has bound my hands and feet. I believe he intends me great harm,” Mortimer replied. “You should arrest him at once.”

  “Inspector?” Durbin asked.

  “It is as he says, just so.”

  “How about you untie him and let him go?”

  “Yes of course, presently. But first I have a few questions for this man. So, if you’ll indulge me for just a few short minutes.” Fynn smiled. “Please gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable.” We sat at the adjoining picnic table and Fynn rose. “Allow me to formally introduce my… well, what’s the proper word here? My undying colleague, Javelin Mortimer. I must say, he is not a nice man at all… Ah, but I should not prejudice you against him so quickly. It’s best if you make your own minds up.” Fynn pulled down his adversary’s blindfold and continued, “I cannot say with any certainty what you saw tonight… at the Polic
eman’s Ball… Detective Durbin… Joey… perhaps though, you did witness one of his brutal acts. You saw, I believe, my daughter Anika lying dead on the beach.” Fynn glanced at us all. “This man is her killer. I don’t know if you saw him murder Eleanor as a mere trifle, or if you saw him erase several lives as though they were playthings rather than people. Patrick though, can tell you much about this man. He can tell you how Mr Mortimer has little regard for human life, or the pain and suffering he likes to inflict on others.”

  “What exactly are you looking to do here, Fynn?” Durbin spoke up.

  “By the book, detective… We are policemen first, this is the measure of all things for us both. But tonight the situation is somewhat different. There is the law, there is justice and there is vengeance.”

  “So you’re saying option one is out of the picture?” Durbin asked.

  Fynn smiled. “I believe all three are on the menu.”

  “A policeman, ha. You are no more a policeman, than I am a doctor,” Mortimer interrupted with a harsh voice. “And who are you to judge me?” he screamed.

  “I am father to Anika, husband to Lorraine, and friend to these men at present.”

  “Judge, jury and executioner, are you?”

  “Not at all. There is no judge tonight, only the jury you see here: these three men.”

  “Though elegantly dressed, they are certainly not my peers.” Mortimer gave us an arrogant stare.

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “Three monkeys for a jury? I imagine one can see, one can hear, and one can speak. I wonder which will do the latter?”

  “That would be me.”

  “Jardel... of course it would.”

  “And where is your executioner?” Mortimer asked. “Is it to be you, Fynn?”

  “You know all too well, I will not put you to death, though I believe I have every right to. But I will send you to a place where you can do no more harm… some kind of justice must be served.”

  “And where would that be? What, back to the Flatlands? Of course, I will find a way to return, eventually.”

  “I can simply leave you here, I suppose. Not that it would be fair to all the friends I’ve made.” Fynn said and glanced over at us again.

  “So you’ll banish me, eh? What right do you have to decide?”

  “None whatsoever. These three will make that decision. This is their present and they must decide whether you should remain. I will abide by their verdict.”

  “You’ve chosen a rather forgetful lot, haven’t you, Tractus? What terrible things have I done in their eyes? There is no proof that I murdered your precious daughter.”

  “Patrick, perhaps you can make a list of all the harm?”

  “Clara Hobbs, Debra Helling, Lorraine Luis, her sister Elaine, Doctor Henry Samuels, Alyson Grove and Emma, Lucinda, Eleanor Woods and Anika Fynn.” I spoke the names as if reading a criminal charge. Durbin and Joey looked on incredulously.

  “I don’t know any of these people,” Mortimer said angrily. “Even if I did, they mean nothing to me.” An insolent smile came to his lips. “Besides, I didn’t kill this veterinarian. I did not throw Doctor Samuels down the stairs… Fynn did this.”

  The inspector laughed a bit. “Assuredly, you must mount your own defense, but this doesn’t seem like the very best way to begin.”

  “I don’t wish to play this little game, your mock trial. It’s all rather annoying really. I don’t share your petty canons of morality either.”

  “If this is the present you’ve chosen, then you must abide by its rules, eh?” Fynn countered.

  “Your morality doesn’t apply at all. If a person is dead here, then next door in the other timeline they are alive and well. So what does it matter?”

  “It matters that you cause pain and suffering.”

  “People cause their own pain and suffering. That’s nothing to do with me.”

  Durbin and Joey were admittedly perplexed by this conversation, I could tell, though it was also obvious that they listened with rapt attention.

  Mortimer continued, “If I injure or kill someone and they don’t remember at all, is this really so terrible? Did I really do them any harm?”

  “It’s pretty hard to remember when you’re dead.”

  “Touché, Mr Jardel…” Mortimer glanced at me with contempt. “That may be true in Fynn’s world, but not in mine. Our view of things are diametrically opposed, as you may have guessed by now.” Mortimer let go a long exasperated sigh. “But all this is rather stale to me, it’s time to end this.” Mortimer turned to us. “And what says the jury then? As if I really have to ask?”

  “Guilty,” I replied first.

  “Not guilty,” Durbin said, “Not yet anyway.”

  All eyes turned to Joey.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “I think Inspector Fynn should decide. He promised not to hurt this guy...”

  “Well thank you, Joey, this is most unexpected.”

  “What is this, some kind of weird Dutch justice?” Durbin asked.

  Fynn laughed. “Not at all,” he said. “Detective Durbin, if I had the luxury to explain, I promise I would. Though now, my plan is to take him to the top of that ledge and ask him to jump toward the black water.”

  “Listen, I think this guy is guilty as sin and he ought to be locked up, and maybe not in a jail cell.” Durbin rose and took a step closer. “But I can’t sanction this, Fynn. It’s not right. Let’s bring him into custody and take it from there…”

  “I beg your indulgence on this matter, detective.”

  “I can’t do that, Fynn.”

  “Tell me, are you carrying a firearm tonight?”

  “Well, no…”

  Fynn wavered for a moment, considering his options. “Very well, do what you must then.”

  Durbin walked over to the prisoner and started to undo the cord. Mortimer smiled back happily, deferentially. The knots were expertly tied though and difficult to loosen. Joey had a pen knife and tossed it over to Durbin— he cut the cord with a flourish. At that moment Mortimer leaned back and kicked the detective with some force. Durbin went flying to his backside, knocked to the ground, head against a tree trunk. Mortimer leapt from his picnic table in an instant. He didn’t disappear though, he didn’t vanish; instead, he jumped towards his precious cane. He grabbed it at once and then came running at Fynn.

  Mortimer swung it with all his strength to bring it down hard onto his fellow traveler’s head. But the inspector was too quick and he grabbed the stick by the shaft as the blow came down. The two men stared at each other face to face, grinning, or grimacing with exertion. Mortimer had a trick though. He twisted the head of the cane and pulled it back. The sword came with him. That left Fynn holding the rest. Mortimer lunged and stabbed. It looked to be a severe thrust. Fynn staggered back and fell to his knees. Mortimer grabbed the shaft from Fynn’s hand. He smiled cruelly and re-sheathed his sword. Then he turned to give Joey and I an indignant glare. “And now, gentleman, I will bid you goodnight.” He started towards the cliff face. This was his mistake.

  Fynn, though still on his knees, reached into his pocket and drew out a length of metal chain. He twirled it once and flung it in his opponent’s direction like a lasso. It coiled around Mortimer’s ankles and the latter was taken by complete surprise. With a quick heave from Fynn, Mortimer was on the ground again and writhing in agony. The cane went flying as well. The inspector struggled back to his feet, walked over and picked up the cane again. “And so… where were we, hmm?” He took Mortimer in a choke hold and roughly got him back to his feet. The chains unwrapped and Fynn began to lead his rival toward the cliffs.

  ***

  Joey and I ran over to check on Durbin. He recovered quickly enough, but there wasn’t much he could do, or any of us. Fynn and Mortimer were already half way up the cliff face. I could hear Fynn taunting his captive, “You’ve forgotten how to travel by the stars, haven’t you? Such skills are lost to you now… You rely too much on this j
ackal of yours… Do you even know what direction you’re facing? And this moon tonight, so close, so full, so bright, it makes it very difficult to see through the sky. Can you see any stars at all?”

  I saw Fynn pull the blindfold over Mortimer’s eyes again and lead him to a high ledge. He spoke in a clear voice, loud enough for us all to hear:

  “Now you will fall, you will travel far, and you will travel completely at random. You may break both your legs, but it’s likely you’ll survive, as you have done so many times before. Or you may find yourself lucky, slipping back to a far distant self, though I for one do not wish you a happy landing.”

  Fynn dragged Mortimer still further up the quarry’s edge.

  “Can you feel us getting higher? It’s a long way down now… I doubt you’ll ever make it back to this present.”

  “Rest assured I will, Fynn. I will hunt you down if it takes forever.”

  “This I do not doubt, but I will have a bit of peace till then, eh?”

  “Be reasonable, Fynn. I have no desire to be injured,” he said in a different tone, almost pleading.

  “You will fall, you will not know when you hit… you will travel far, far from here, this place, this time…”

  Fynn threw Mortimer’s cane down first. “Listen,” he said, “Hear how far that falls?” There was a minor splash. Unexpectedly, Mortimer leapt all on his own as if to catch up to his prized possession. I watched him fall. A moment later there was a considerable splash. This didn’t surprise me, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on Fynn. He fell to his knees with a look of utter incomprehension. He leaned over and stared at the now swimming Mortimer, who had indeed retrieved the jackal cane.

  “How can this have happened?” Fynn cried out from his perch. “Why are you still here? This is impossible.”

  I could hear Mortimer laughing, a hysterical sound. He was clearly insane. I also saw him treading water, staring back up at Fynn. He held the jackal head up for all to see.

  “You are surprised then?” he called up to Fynn who was still kneeling on the high ledge.

  “I am speechless.”

  “Clearly, I know something you do not understand.”