Hospital Corners

by William Stafford

  “Uh, no, ma’m. They had a boy. Name of Luke - if I may correct you on that point. Nice fella. Well-liked around these parts. But he left town a short while back. We’ve been trying to contact him to break the sad news.”

  “And the fire?”

  “Oh, that’s long since been extinguished, ma’m.”

  “No, I mean are there any signs it may have been started deliberately?” You fucking moron, she added under her breath.

  “Investigation proved inconclusive, ma’m. It could just be a tragic accident.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff Hardacre.”

  The sheriff put his hat back on and gave a casual salute. Wheeler clicked the remote; the screen went blank. Harry Henry saw to the lighting.

  “Thoughts?” Wheeler appealed to the team.

  “I bet they want me for a cop story. One of those maverick types.” Stevens made it clear he’d been daydreaming all this while. Wheeler ignored him.

  “David?”

  “If Luka - or Luke - has moved on, or if he wants people to think he moved on... he could have come back and started the fire.”

  “You think he’s the bad guy.” Wheeler turned to Pattimore. “Jason?”

  “I think Brough’s right,” he nodded. “About everything.”

  “Oh, fuck me up a gum tree,” Wheeler groaned. “Melanie?”

  But Miller only grunted and chomped on three or four paracetemols.

  “Harry. For fuck’s sake, say something useful.”

  “Um... ” Harry Henry pushed his glasses up his nose. “If this Luke was well-liked, that doesn’t match what his brother told D. I. Brough.”

  “True,” said Wheeler. “I think we need to keep a closer eye on Mr Oscar Fucking Buzz.” She tossed the remote onto the desk. “Otherwise this fucking Skype linkup was a waste of fucking time. Did you see him, though? Fat bastard.” She puffed out her cheeks and bent her arms to make herself appear rounder. “Howdy, folks, I’m Sheriff Fat Fucking Bastard and I’m about as much use as a piece of shit in a pie-eating contest.”

  The speakers along the edge of the white board cracked. “I can still hear you,” said the voice of Sheriff Hardacre.

  “Oh, cock,” said Wheeler.

  ***

  Brough outlined a plan to Oscar Buzz.

  “It’s crazy!” the movie star shook his blond locks. “And fucking dangerous. No; I won’t do it.”

  Behind her desk, Wheeler sucked in air through her teeth. “You big hero,” she muttered.

  “Lady, I’m an actor,” Buzz struck a pose. “I don’t really do all those things you see me doing in the movies. I’ve never had a car chase or jumped from one rooftop to another. I’ve never defused a bomb or wrestled a crocodile. It’s all make-believe. Did you think Pretzels from Space was a documentary?”

  “Oh, stop posturing before you thank the fucking academy.” Wheeler got to her feet; it was her turn to pace the office melodramatically. “We need to flush this Luka out into the open. We need to set a trap with bait he won’t be able to resist.”

  Oscar sat on the desk. “And I’m the worm on the hook.”

  “Not necessarily,” said Brough. “I was hired to be your stand-in, after all.”

  “David, no!” Oscar reached for Brough’s hand. Wheeler cleared her throat.

  “Never mind that, bumlords. D. I. Brough is a trained professional.”

  Oscar looked affronted. “I studied under Lee Strasberg in New York,” he pouted. “Well, I was going to but I was booked for a sunblock commercial.”

  “We’ll set up a shoot - what do you call it when you shoot at night?”

  “A night shoot.”

  “It’ll be dark,” Brough continued. “We know Luka must be watching the set. There’ll be some kind of problem and you - or rather I will be left alone for a few minutes. In the dark. When Luka makes his move, I’ll take him down.”

  “No... ” Oscar shook his head.

  “You’ll have backup,” said Wheeler. “We’ll be on him like flies on fresh shit. Piece of piss.”

  Oscar Buzz chewed a thumbnail. He stood. He jutted his chin resolutely. “I want to do it.”

  “Fuck me; is he ever off?” Wheeler threw up her hands. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I’ll brief the backup team. Brough, you liaise with the producers. Tell them if they cooperate they just might be able to salvage their precious film. Get as much equipment as you need to make it look authentic. We have to convince Luka this is for real.”

  “And that’s why this calls for a professional actor,” Oscar pressed a hand to his heart.

  “Sit down, dickhead,” said Wheeler. “You’m staying here where we can keep you out of harm’s way.”

  Oscar opened his mouth to protest but Wheeler pointed forcefully at a chair. He sat.

  “Right,” she turned to Brough. “From this moment on, you are Oscar Buzz. You’re the king of the swankers, the bungling VIP. You’re going to walk like him, talk like him too - ooh, ooh! I think you should get your roots done.”

  “I was telling him that just the other day.”

  Wheeler silenced the actor with a glare.

  “David, you’ve always been a bit of a fucking diva so this shouldn’t be much of a stretch for you. Do you think you can pull it off?”

  Brough looked at Oscar’s petulant expression and reproduced it exactly. “Ma’m,” he said in Oscar’s voice. “I can Yank it up with the best of them.”

  Oscar’s jaw dropped.

  “Hooray!” said Wheeler. She opened the door. “Now, fuck off.”

  Brough left, walking with Oscar’s swagger. Wheeler followed him.

  “Oi,” she said in a whisper. “You do realise if it is Oscar behind all this and we keep him here, nothing will happen.”

  Brough looked her in the eye and gave her an Oscar twinkle. “Ma’m,” he drawled. “That boy’s as innocent as I am.”

  ***

  Miller rang Bunny’s doorbell for the third time. The cottage with its thatched roof and roses around the door was situated in an idyllic spot about half a mile from Much Wenlock. It was a charming, chocolate box scene but Miller was seized by panic. Bunny’s an old lady and this place is cut-off and remote - where would the air-ambulance land? And who would summon it?

  Her head full of calamity and concern, Miller hammered on the door with both fists. What if illness or accident had not befallen Bunny? What if it was the killer?

  “Morning, dear,” said a voice behind her. Miller wheeled to see Bunny in a wide-brimmed straw hat, carrying a pair of secateurs and a trug of her cuttings. “Somebody’s in a hurry. Need the lavvy, luvvie; is that it?”

  Miller’s relief deflated her. The old dear had been around the back in her extensive garden. “We’re going to the set,” Miller took the basket and set it down. “Right now. It’s not safe for you to be here on your tod.”

  Bunny laughed as Miller bundled her towards the passenger door of her car. “Nonsense, dear! I’m a national treasure, dear.”

  Yes, thought Miller. And treasure gets buried.

  Satisfied that Bunny was safely strapped in, Miller got behind the wheel and set off. Bunny hummed along to the radio whether she knew the song or not. When they reached Bridgnorth, Miller could stand it no longer. She snapped the radio off. Bunny’s hums continued for a short while and then dwindled.

  “What’s the matter, luvvie?”

  “I’m going to need your help, Bunny.”

  “Advice, is it? Man trouble. You’ve come to the right place. I used to go through men like loaves of bread.”

  “No, Bunny; not advice. More of a consultant’s role.”

  “Oh! Eh?”

  “We’re staging a scene. It’s all a setup. A trap to catch Oscar’s identical twin.” />
  “How exciting! Why?”

  “We have reason to believe Oscar’s twin is responsible for the murders of Delia Cartwright and Pinkie Green.”

  “Who, dear?”

  “Some twonk from Los Angeles.”

  “Oh. And how can I help?”

  “Well, the thing is, I’m going to play you. That is I’m going to be Matron, as played by you, and I’m going to need you to coach me.”

  It wasn’t the entire truth. Miller would have said anything to get Bunny to Serious and certain safety.

  “I could do it, dear,” Bunny protested. “I’m not fit for the knacker’s yard yet, you know.”

  “No, no, of course you’re not. I’m not saying that; nobody’s saying that. But it’s a matter of security. It’s all a ruse. There won’t actually be any film in the camera.”

  “Of course not, dear. It’s all digital whatsit these days. High definition. Really shows up the pancake in your crow’s feet.”

  “No, I mean it’s a trick. To lure this evil twin to the set so we can nab him.”

  “Oh. Sounds a bit daft. It didn’t work in the shopping precinct. What makes you think it’s going to work now?”

  And that was when the man who had been hiding behind Miller’s seat sat up. A man with long blond hair and piercing blue eyes. Miller saw him in the rear-view mirror and gasped.

  “Brough?”

  Bunny peered over her shoulder. “Hello, Oscar love.”

  The man grinned.

  “Guess again,” said Luka.

  18

  “Any time you want to stop pacing up and down is fine by me.” Pattimore was finding his charge irritating. Oscar Buzz was like a caged animal although the door to Wheeler’s office wasn’t locked.

  “I should be out there,” the actor gestured to the window and beyond. “Looking for my brother.”

  “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

  “Neither did I. Until just now. I don’t remember him at all. Although, it’s funny: now I know I’m a twin, a lot of things are starting to make sense.”

  He waited for the detective constable to ask, “Such as?” but Pattimore was in no mood to pick up cues. Oscar carried on regardless.

  “Things like dreams. Dreams of places I’ve never been to, places I’ve never seen. The feeling of being shut in. Locked up. And doctors... All my life, these images show up in my dreams, over and over.” He stopped himself with a sideways smile. “You know, your buddy David used to try to interpret my dreams for me.”

  At the mention of Brough, Pattimore bristled.

  “You know, online. We used to talk about all sorts.”

  “Liquorice?”

  “What?”

  “Never mind.” Pattimore rubbed his eyes and sat up straight. His interest was piqued. “So how long was this going on?”

  “What?”

  “You and David - Detective Inspector Brough.”

  “I don’t know; about a year. He’s a good guy.”

  “Hmm,” said Pattimore.

  “Don’t you think?”

  Pattimore shifted uncomfortably on Wheeler’s chair. “Davey - David -er - D. I. Brough didn’t mention me in your little chats?”

  “Um... should he have? Listen: I didn’t even know he was a cop. I don’t know what I thought he did for a living.”

  “He lied to you.”

  “No, not really. It just never came up.”

  “So, it was all about you, was it? This online relationship? Him massaging your ego, interpreting your dreams... Hah! You self-centred, egotistical -”

  “Hey, hey!” Oscar shouted him down. “It was not like that at all. We talked about many things, a couple of times a week. I got the feeling he was going through a tough time. He didn’t want to talk about it so I didn’t stick my self-centred, egotistical nose in. Besides, what business is it of yours? Are you his mate?”

  Pattimore blushed. He cleared his throat. “I’m not sure - Besides, that’s none of your business.”

  Oscar regarded the grumpy young detective with the red face and the folded arms. Very cute. He could see what David might see in him. He went back to the window and gazed out at brick walls. “How much longer do we got to stay cooped up in here?”

  “Until the boss says we can come out.”

  “Your boss - that little woman with the potty mouth?”

  “Afraid so.”

  “Christ. I wouldn’t like to tangle with her.”

  “Not many would.”

  Oscar met the detective’s eyes. He looked the young man up and down and parted his lips. “Say... ” he approached, running his fingertips over the desk top. “If we’re going to be here for a while, we could do something to pass the time... ”

  “Uh?” said Pattimore. “What like?”

  “Fucking travel Scrabble, I don’t know!” Oscar perched on the edge of the desk. His hand stroked the inside of his own thigh. “Ever fuck a movie star?”

  Pattimore was startled. His eyebrows dipped. Was this even happening?

  Oscar Buzz lifted his foot and placed it on the detective’s lap, maintaining eye contact as he did so. He licked his upper lip. “How about it?” he breathed.

  Pattimore, nervous to the point of complete rigidity, managed to nod.

  “Good,” said Oscar Buzz. He reached for the detective’s tie, loosened it and then pulled it away, like a magician pulling a string of handkerchiefs from his pocket.

  Pattimore shrugged off his jacket. Oscar Buzz planted a hot, sucking kiss on the detective’s lips. He pulled Pattimore’s shirt, untucking it from his waistband. Famous fingers undid the trousers, pulling them down to Pattimore’s ankles. Pattimore groaned with pleasure and in anticipation of pleasure to come.

  His world turned the colour of his shirt as the world-famous actor lifted it over his head.

  And it stayed that way.

  Pattimore felt himself being shoved roughly backwards. He heard Oscar Buzz say, “So long, sucker!” and the office door open and close.

  Pattimore scrambled from behind the desk, fighting to get the shirt off his face. He was tripped over by his own trousers and fell flat on the floor - just as Chief Inspector Wheeler came in. Her trained eyes took in the scene in a split second.

  “Oi, wanker,” she barked at the prostrate Pattimore. “Where’s our fucking actor?”

  ***

  “Calm down, Miller! You’re where?” Brough put a finger into one ear so the other could hear the phone call better.

  “Some layby outside Bridgnorth,” Miller shouted, as traffic roared past.

  “And you’ve broken down?”

  “No! Just listen. He’s here! I mean, he’s here but it’s not him.”

  “You’re not making any sense. Who’s there?”

  “The brother! The evil twin. Except he’s not. Evil, that is.”

  “Luka! Luka is with you. My God, Miller; are you all right?”

  “Yes! We’re all right. I went to pick up Bunny and he must have been in my car the whole time.”

  A lorry rumbled past. Brough swore.

  “Listen, Miller. Bring them both to Serious. There’s a bit of a situation. Pattimore has let the brother go.”

  “The brother? No, I’ve got the brother here.”

  “His brother! Oscar! Jason let him go. Fucking idiot.”

  “And you think - what do you think? That Oscar Buzz is the killer?”

  “No! Listen, Miller - we can’t talk like this. We’ll catch up when you get back. Will you need fetching? Have you got him in handcuffs?”

  “No - there’s no need. He’s a real sweetheart. He’s listening to Bunny’s showbiz stories.”

  “You don’t sound impressed.”

 
; “I’ve heard all the stories. Twenty times by now. Bunny’s lovely, of course - but it’s just anecdotes-on-a-loop with her.”

  “Lost her glamour, has she?”

  “Well, at least my showbiz friend isn’t a killer.”

  “And neither is mine. See you later, Miller.”

  He disconnected. He didn’t want to entertain the idea that the man he had befriended was a violent and deranged murderer. It didn’t fit with anything that he knew about the real Oscar Buzz.

  But he’s an actor, his inner voice reminded him. Perhaps he was acting all along...

  ***

  “Incredible!” Luka stood in front of Detective Inspector Brough. “It’s like a mirror.”

  Brough blushed.

  “Apart from the eyes,” Luka continued. “The eyes are wrong.”

  “Well, when I put the contacts in... ” He invited Luka to sit at the table in the interview room.

  The two men sat opposite each other. Across the building, Wheeler and Harry Henry were watching on a monitor.

  “So,” Brough began recording, “what’s your story?”

  “My history, you mean,” said Luka. “It’s not a story; it’s the truth.”

  “Prickly,” said Wheeler.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” said Harry Henry, “If everyone thought you were a murderer?”

  “Shut your face,” said Wheeler.

  “I always knew I was adopted,” Luka began, “long before my folks summoned up the courage to tell me. I mean, they were dark-haired and thickset. I was tall and blond and slender. Years of farm-work built me up - I didn’t need the gyms and the personal trainers my brother must have spent a fortune on - and the kids at school always teased me for looking like the kid on TV. Buzz, they’d call me. Or Buzzer. Or Buzz-Off. And I hated it at first. But then I thought, it could be worse. Oscar Buzz is a handsome dude, with women all over the world falling at his feet. Sure helped me get past third base a few times. Girls liked to be seen with me. They could pretend they were being fingered by Oscar Buzz. And I didn’t mind that - I was getting laid every weekend. Of course, I knew they didn’t want me for me; they wanted to screw Oscar Buzz. I was the next best thing.

  “But as you grow up, you want a girl to love you for who you are and not who you look like. I graduated high school but I didn’t go to college. My parents needed my help on the farm. And I got kind of used to the isolation. Nobody gawping at me in the street. Nobody making the same old jokes.