Case of the Severed Finger

Case of the Severed Finger

         The world is full of thieves, cheats, and scumbags. As a cop and now as a PI, Spam had dealt with his fair share of criminals and low lives, more than his share to be certain. He just didn’t have the time or inclination to also mess with spooks, specters, and ghouls. However, life has a way of putting stuff on your plate you don’t want whether you like it or not.

         That's what he had now, something that wasn't very appetising. Spam stared at the severed finger laying in the box on his desk. It sported a niffty ring with a very red stone. He guessed it was a ruby, an expensive ring for just a solitary finger. The contents of the box was quite ghastly, even for a seasoned P.I. who thought he'd seen just about everything. Shortly after his girl-Friday, Cassidy, opened the box, she lost her lunch. As soon as she recognized what she was looking at, she beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. Spam couldn't blame her, he found himself wrinkling up his nose and squinting at the contents of the box in disgust. Apparently, the finger had been traumaticlly severed; that's a fancy way of saying it had been hacked off, not surgically removed. Accompanying the severed finger was a hand lettered calling card reading only, “Azrael.” It was enough to make a person stop opening his mail.

          “Are you OK?” Spam asked Cassidy as she reentered the room from the bathroom.

         Cassidy gently massaged her forehead with the cool dampened cloth; she flicked a semi-smile to Spam and nodded affirmatively.

          “Sure, Spam, I’m fine. It’s just that it was quite a shock seeing that thing.” She sneered at the box and continued, “My god, Spam, that thing is horrible. What does it mean?”

          “Well, other than this card here, I don’t have a clue.” Spam shook his head. “I have no idea what Mr. Azrael here wants of me or why he sent this thing to me.”

          “What are you going to do with it? Get rid of it, Spam!” She insisted, unable to mask her revulsion.

          “Yeah, I intend to. But first I want to look at this ring closer.”

         Spam reached into the box, holding a Kleenex in his hand and picked up the finger.

          “Oh my god, Spam! What in the world are you doing?” Cassidy yelped.

          “It’s OK, Doll. I just want to see this ring up close.”

         With a gentle tug the ring slipped from the severed finger. Spam dropped the finger into the box and held the ring in his hand with the Kleenex. Spam peered closely at the inside of the ring.

          “There’s an inscription in here, Cass.” Spam spoke as he studied the ring. “Says, ‘KN – Vampire Society.’ Cass, I want you to find out about this Vampire Society. Check your sources and see if there are any groups or organizations that go by that name. I don’t think you’re gonna find them in the phone book, so start with your special sources.”

          “OK, Spam,” Cassidy responded eagerly, apparently pleased to be off on a mission and out of sight of the finger. “What are you going to do while I’m educating myself on the Vampire Society?”

          “I’m gonna go over and visit with Dave—see if I can give him a hand…or at least a finger.” Spam grinned at the pun; Cassidy simply shook her head and shrugged.

********************

         Spam walked into Lt. Dave Frisco’s office unannounced. Dave looked up from his work and grimaced when he recognized Spam, who made it a habit to barge in on Dave regardless of what he was doing. Spam figured the cop really didn’t mind, after all Dave was once his partner and now was his best friend.

          “Damn it, Spam! I told you to knock before you enter!” Dave protested.

          “Why? No one’s in here but you and me.” Spam grinned at his old friend. “Besides, I’ve got a gift for you.”

         Spam handed Dave the box, who suspiciously accepted it, placing it on his desk as if it were booby-trapped.

          “What’s this?” Dave quizzed.

          “Open it and you’ll see. I received it in the mail this morning.” Spam returned.

         The detective gently removed the lid from the box and peered inside.

          “Geeze, Spam, it’s a finger. Hmm...there's quite a rock in that ring.” Dave looked to Spam and continued, “I don’t suppose you can tell me who this belongs to? I mean, where’s the rest of the body?”

          “Nope, don’t have a clue. I was hoping you could do that. I thought maybe you could run the fingerprint and see if it matches anyone in your files.”

          “Sure, we can do that. I’ll have the medical examiner take a look at it.” Dave nodded in agreement. “I suppose you have already examined the ring; I mean like picking it up and handling it--totally destroying any evidence.”

         Spam grinned, “I was very careful. If there are any prints on the ring, I didn't disturb them. An inscription with the initials KN and reference to the Vampire Society are written on the inside of the ring. Does that ring a bell with you?”

          “Not even a tinkle. I’ll check into it. Although, you realize there is no indication of a crime here? All you have is just this finger. I can't spend the citizen's tax money on just a severed finger. As awful as it seems, there just isn't a crime that I know of. Anyway, I’ll see what I can do.” Dave shrugged.

          “Good enough. I’ll wait for your call. Catch you later.” Spam nodded at Dave as he walked out the door.

********************

          The tinkle of the little bell on the door announced her entrance into the bookshop. Cassidy walked through the entrance and was greeted by the musky, but familiar, smell of old books. She heard some shuffling coming from the back of the store. A chair scooting across the floor suggested Jeremiah was likely shelving books on the top shelf again. The old man really needed to buy a stepladder. Coming into view from behind a back row of books, a smile broke across the old man’s face as he recognized Cassidy.

          “Cassidy, my dear, what a pleasant surprise. You’re like a breath of fresh air and a bundle of sunshine. How are you?”

         He gently wrapped his arms around the young woman and hugged her warmly. Cassidy affectionately returned the hug.

          “Jeremiah, have you been standing on chairs again?” Cassidy chided with a grin.

          “Ah, you have found me out. I guess that’s the result of working for a private detective.”

          “As a matter of fact, that’s why I’m here.” Cassidy turned serious. “We received a nasty package this morning and need some information. Because of the strangeness of it, Spam thought special resources would be necessary. That’s why I’ve come to see you.”

          “Well, you may begin by telling me what happened.”

         Jeremiah led Cassidy to a small table with two chairs at the back of the building, still within sight of the front door. They sat at the little table and Cassidy recounted the entire story as she remembered it. When she finished she paused to let Jeremiah gather his thoughts. The old man sat for a moment. He removed his glasses and tapped one of the earpieces gently against his lips, something Cassidy had often watched him do when he was deeply in thought. He then rose and walked to the end of the bookcases stacked against the back wall. He ran his fingers down the spines of several books and then slid one out of the shelf. He returned to the table, sat down, and placed the book on the table between them. Cassidy picked up the book and read the title: Cu Vampirii Legamant.

          “Is this Latin?” she asked.

          “No, it’s Romanian. It says, The Vampire Covenant. It is a very old book, very rare. In the Eighteenth Century it was believed to be used as a guide by a sect of monks from Romania. They were specialist on vampires. They hunted down the undead and killed them, mostly using the traditional stake through the heart method. In recent years, society has frowned upon mad monks driving stakes through people’s hearts. The Sect has gone underground. It was assumed to have died out completely. However, your finger in the box appears to be evidence suggesting it may still be active.”

          “And, what about the name ‘Azrael’?” Cassidy quizzed. “Do you have any idea who that could be?”

          “Why, Cassidy, darling, I would have thought you were well read enough to know that.” Jeremiah pursed his lips and shook his head slightly before he continued. “Azrael is the name attributed to the Angel of Death.”

         A chill ran up Cassidy’s spine, as she muffled a shudder. “My god, how ominous. Surely you don’t believe we received a message from the real Angel of Death?”

         Jeremiah grimaced almost imperceptibly; he fidgeted with his glasses, which he had again removed. It was as if he dreaded to continue; but he did.

         “Cassidy, my dear, there are many things in this world that are beyond our understanding. In the bright daylight of society things such as vampires and the Angel of Death are scoffed at as being the playground of the ignorant and unsophisticated. But, when the shadows fall on the land, those same scoffers are not so certain about their beliefs. I have always held an open mind permiting room for any possibility, including vampires and the Angel of Death.”

         Cassidy straightened in her chair, tossed her hair, and picked up the book.

          “Jeremiah, this scares me. I don’t know what to believe. I’ll share it with Spam and see what he wants to do. But, before I leave, do you have any ideas about the finger with the ruby ring?”

         Jeremiah sighed and continued, “I’m afraid it does not get any better, dear. The red ruby is the symbol of blood. The vampire would have worn it. I suspect what you have there is the severed finger of a vampire. As to why you have it, I haven’t a clue.”

         Cassidy stood to her feet. Picking up the book she asked, “May I take this book with me, Jeremiah? I will return it.”

          “Of course you can, but I don’t see that it will be very helpful. It is written in Romanian. However, there are some interesting translation notes in the margins and the illustrations are numerous and quite graphic. Keep it as long as you need. But, Cassidy, my dear, you and your boss must be very careful. This is not an area in which you want to tarry. Be very careful.”

          “Of course we will, Jeremiah.” Cassidy responded as she leaned over and kissed the old shop owner on the forehead. With that Cassidy turned and walked from the bookstore.

********************

         It was early afternoon, past 5:00 pm. Spam figured it was late enough for a drink at Jocko’s. He’d spent the morning at the police station, first Dave’s office and then for the rest of the day at the coroner’s. He’d checked in with Cassidy by phone and found her deeply engrossed in research. She anxiously agreed to meet with him at Jocko’s at six. He was finishing his first drink when she walked in the door. He watched Jocko begin fixing her a rum and coke, easy on the rum, her drink of choice. Cassidy joined Spam at a back table located in the dim reaches of the tavern; she laid a book and some papers on the table and sat at the place across from Spam.

          “OK, Doll, what have you got?” Spam asked.

          “Well, hello to you too, Spam. And, yes, I’m doing fine. And, yes, I’d love a drink.” Cassidy rattled off ignoring Spam’s question.

         Spam grinned at his girl-Friday and replied apologetically, “Sorry, Cass. You’re looking great, and you really are quite a doll. Now, I know you’ve been digging around all day on Mr. Azreal’s case. What have you found?”

         Jocko sat the drink down in front of Cassidy and took a seat at the table with his two friends. Cassidy slowly took a drink of her rum and coke and winked at Jocko; apparently he had fixed it just right.

          “Well,” Cassidy began, “You’re probably not going to like this; but, our Mr. Azreal is the Angel of Death. That is not his finger in the box. Nope that comes from someone else, who by the way has been dead for quite a while. In fact, he may just be a member of the family of the undead. My source believes he is a vampire—a member of the Vampire Society actually. That ring on his finger is a symbol of the vampire. Now, I have no other idea as to where the rest of the body is—probably in some grave about now.”

         Cassidy glanced at her watch and then continued, “Well, at least for a little longer. He’ll probably be getting up for his evening activities shortly; nightfall is just a few minutes from now.”

         Cassidy took another slow sip of her drink and waited for the response to her report. There was none; the two men sat staring at her, unwilling or at least unable to respond.

         Slowly Spam asked, “Cass, are you telling me that we are looking for Bella Lugosi here?”

          “No, Spam. Bella Lugosi is a real live person--an actor actually. It’s more like we’re looking for Dracula--you know...a bono fide vampire. Although, I really doubt that is his name. As a matter of fact, I was hoping you could tell us what those initials, KN, stood for.”

         There was another pause before Spam continued.

          “OK, Doll. We’ll come back to the Angel of Death in a moment. As a matter of fact I did find out something about our severed finger. Seems as if it has some strange properties. The coroner examined the thing and came up with some conflicting data. The flesh of the finger is in a state of suspended decomposition. What that means is that it’s been dead a very long time but the decomposition has somehow been arrested. It’s like it is dead but not quite; it’s sort of waiting to be dead. The blood, on the other hand is fresh; or at least it was when the finger was severed. The coroner is stumped. He hasn’t a clue.”

          “What about fingerprints, Spam?” Cassidy interjected.

          “Well, that’s sort of interesting also. Dave ran the print and came up with a hit. The finger belongs to Karl Nicu. He was a diplomat to the Romanian Consulate. Seems Mr. Nicu was an attaché to the Romanian ambassador. That job comes with diplomatic immunity. The guy was off limits to us.”

          “What do you mean was?” Cassidy questioned.

          “Well, that’s the really interesting thing. It seems Mr. Nicu was killed in a car accident five years ago. His body was shipped back to Romania.”

         Cassidy gasped, “My god Spam, it fits. What Jeremiah told me and what you found out fits. Somehow we have come up with the finger of an honest to goodness vampire. Nicu wasn’t sent back. He’s been here all the time, doing his vampire thing, whatever that is. Somehow Azreal found him and cut off his finger and sent it to you. The Angel of Death wants you to do something Spam. What could it be?”

          “Whoa, Doll! You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions here. Sure it fits; but it’s crazy. There ain’t no such thing as vampires. There has to be another explanation.” Spam insisted.

          “You’re a scoffer, Spam,” Cassidy accused and then continued. “Jeremiah said that believing in vampires is considered, by the closed minded people in this world, as being the playground of the ignorant and unsophisticated. We scoff at things we don't understand. But, that does not make them false. And that scares us and confuses us. Why must we look for another answer when what we found fits? Is it because we don’t know how to deal with the supernatural? Just suppose for a moment, it is true. What do we do next?”

          “OK, Doll,” Spam agreed. “I’ll suppose that it is true; Nicu is a vampire and he is still here with us. That means we need to find Azreal. He was the last one we know who was with Nicu. And, how do you suppose we find the Angel of Death?”

         The group was silent. Outside, nightfall had descended on the streets; and yet they were still alone in the tavern. For some reason, the usual clientele was staying away. They sat in silence, each contemplating Spam's question. Suddenly, the stillness was broken as a voice behind them spoke.

          “You don’t find the Angel of Death; he finds you.”

         The suddenness of the voice in the still of the moment startled the group; the trio jumped from their seats. Jocko’s chair overturned and bounced off the polished wood floor. Each gasped and uttered exclamations as they turned toward the voice in the shadows. Spam drew his 0.45 from his shoulder holster.

          “Who the hell are you!” Spam exclaimed as he leveled the weapon towards a figure standing in the shadows.

          “I am Azreal. I believe you are looking for me.”

          “Geeze, mister, that’s a sure way to get shot. You don’t sneak up on people like that.” Jocko exclaimed.

          “I assure you, neither did I sneak up on you nor do I wish to be shot. You may put your weapon away. I am not here to harm you.” Azreal spoke somewhat condescendingly.

         Spam put down his gun, Jocko picked up the fallen chair, and Cassidy tried to catch her breath. Azreal stepped out of the shadows and up to the table.

          “May I sit with you? There is important work to do and I believe we should talk now.” He stated quietly and calmly.

          “Be my guest,” Spam responded as he and the rest of his group resumed their places at the table. “You can begin by telling us who the heck you are.” Spam continued.

          “Certainly. First of all, I did not mean to startle you. In my business we find it necessary to make stealth a habit. Standing in the shadows is normal for us. I go by Azreal. That is not the name I was born with; that one I have long since ceased to use. I am a Romanian Monk; I belong to an order dedicated to ridding humanity of the undead. I am searching for Karl Nicu. He is evil and a plague on humanity. I recently fought with him, at which time I managed only to sever his index finger. I had intended to sever his head.”

          “So, it was you who sent us the finger.” Spam interjected.

          “It was.” Azreal confirmed.

          “But, why? Why me? For what purpose? I certainly don’t know anything about the undead, vampires, or you, by any means. Of all the people in this world who you could send that severed digit to, why me?”

          “Because you are a good detective. Nicu is here and you are here. I knew you would investigate the finger thoroughly. You would not have listened to me if I were to simply drop in and show you that finger. No, you needed to spend some time on it. Do the research. Even now, you find it difficult to believe me. Even after digging up the answers. How could you have ever believed me if I had just entered your office and laid this all on you? No, Mr. Hummer, you had to do it yourself.”

          “He’s got a point, Spam.” Cassidy chimed in.

         Spam glared at Cassidy and continued, “OK, OK, let’s say I believe you. Now what? What do we do now? What do you expect of me?”

          “You have something that Nicu wants—wants very badly. You have the ring. It is a symbol of his power. He would do almost anything to retrieve it. But, as long as I had it he would not move against me. He is afraid of me. He knows that if I find him again I will kill him. However, he is not afraid of a mere man. He will come to take it from you. He would not do that with me.”

         Spam's voice reflected his irritation as he spoke, "What you're saying is that Nicu won't come to you but he'll come for me. You're using me as bait. You're waiting for him to come to me to get the ring."

          “But, Spam does not have the ring, Azreal. The county morgue has it.” Cassidy interjected.

          “That’s true,” Spam agreed. “But, that really isn’t a problem. You see there is no crime here—just a severed finger. As the last official person to have possession of the finger and ring, in a way I am the legal guardian of that finger. All I need do is to sign the remains over to me. I can have the ring by tomorrow morning. The only one who knows I took it to the authorities is Dave Frisco and the coroner. It will even take Nicu a couple of days to find out where it is. By that time I will have it back. In addition, it will also be a matter of public record, which I am sure will be made aware to our Mr. Nicu almost immediately.”

          “Then it will be tomorrow night.” Azreal confirmed. “Nicu will come for the ring tomorrow night. And, I will kill the vampire tomorrow night.”

         The group sat in silence. This was an awful lot to absorb. Spam still was not sure he believed in vampires, and yet here he was conspiring to kill one, either that or murdering a man. He had twenty-four hours to wrap his head around this. Tomorrow promised to be a long day.

         Jocko broke the silence as he stated, “I think I need a drink or two. Anyone want to join me; it’s on the house.”

         With that announcement they heard the tavern's front door open and close. They turned their heads and witnessed the first patron of the evening walk through the door. As they returned their attention to the table, Azreal was gone.

********************

         It had been a productive day. Spam successfully had Karl Nicu’s finger released to him for final disposition. The box lay on his desk, waiting for its owner to claim. The ring however was firmly located on Spam’s index finger. Spam determined he was not going to let the ring out of his sight. How better to monitor the thing than to wear it. Of course, that really disturbed Cassidy, who thought it was a totally revolting idea.

         Spam had not seen Azreal all day. He was not sure how he was to coordinate his encounter with Nicu with the monk. Apparently, Azreal would make his presence known at the appropriate time. However, Spam sent Cassidy home early that day. He cleaned and loaded his 0.45 cal. handgun with new hollow point, steel jacket bullets. He figured he was as ready as he was going to be. Unfortunately, he had very little experience facing off vampires, which he still had a difficult time acknowledging even existed.

         It was well into the evening hours, somewhere near 10:00 pm. Spam passed the time playing solitaire. Everyone else in the building had long since called it a night and went home or to other locations. The only noise was the sound of traffic in the street outside his open window. There was no real reason for Spam to suddenly check the door; it was just a feeling. As he looked to the door he perceived a whist of smoke from under the threshold, coming from the hallway. Just as quickly as he saw it, it drew back beneath the door. Spam studied the door, not certain as to what his eyes were telling him. Outside the frosted glass he perceived an image forming. Finally it took the shape of a man standing in the hallway, silhouetted in the glass of his door.

         Spam stood and drew his weapon from his shoulder holster. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, but he dang sure wanted to be prepared. Holding his gun to his side he began to walk around the desk so he could approach the door. Before he could get around the desk the door violently flew open, shattering the glass when it hit the doorstop. Standing before Spam was a man. He was tall, well built, and wore a fine suit with a black trench coat slung around his shoulders. At first the man simply stood in the doorway and stared at Spam.

          “I suppose you are Karl Nicu.” Spam replied.

         Spam could not believe his ears; the man growled. It was a low guttural sound, primitive, and very evil.

          “I’d advise you to stay where you are. You come forward and I’ll blow your head off.” Spam warned.

         Nicu snarled at Spam’s admonition. To Spam’s surprise the creature came forward towards him at amazing speed. As soon as he moved Spam opened fire—three shots. Spam was sure he hit him, but apparently he missed because Nicu was on him in an instant. Nicu reached out a hand and grabbed Spam by the throat. The pain was excruciating. The man’s grip closed Spam’s windpipe and promised to cut the flow of blood to his brain. Almost instantly Spam felt faint. Out of desperation Spam brought the butt of his gun down on the bridge of the man’s nose. The grip on Spam lessened. Spam lashed out with his free hand, driving it solidly into the man’s gut and at the same time brought his knee up into the creature’s crotch.

         Nicu released Spam by half throwing him against the wall. The 0.45 clattered across the floor as Spam slumped down on the floor by the wall. He tried to clear his head, and as he looked up he saw Nicu coming at him. Spam rolled sideways and scrambled to his feet. He kicked hard at the side of the creatures leg in the vicinity of the knee. Spam thought he heard something crack. He expected to see the man slump to the floor in pain. What happened totally surprised him. Instead of falling the man let out a screech filled with anger. He turned and came for Spam who was too slow to avoid his grasp this time.

         Nicu grabbed Spam by the lapels with both hands, lifted him up, and tossed him across the room. Spam crashed against the wall and fell onto the file cabinets and then onto the floor. Pain coursed through Spam’s body. He was certain all his ribs were broken, at least that is how it felt. Spam struggled to get a small gasp of air to feed his hungry lungs. All he could see were the legs of the creature coming towards him, and his gun laying on the floor within his reach. Spam grabbed for his gun. He felt the solid weight of the gun in his hand even as he was being lifted from the floor. Spam thrust the gun up against the throat of the man and pulled the trigger. There was no way to miss this time. The explosion of the round sent blood spraying, coating Spam with Nicu’s blood. However, incredibly, he felt himself being hurled through the air again.

         Once again Spam was slumped on the floor after crashing into the wall. Barely conscious Spam saw Nicu slowly walking towards him. Spam prepared to fight back with any feeble force he could muster. However, behind Nicu, Spam’s eyes detected another form. He struggled to focus on what was happening. It appeared to be another man, however this man was armed with a sword. Nicu continued to advance on Spam. The newcomer advanced on Nicu. Just before Nicu bent to grab Spam for the final time, Spam detected a flash of steel and heard an almost silent whish. Time stood still as Nicu stood before Spam. And then, amazingly, Spam saw the creature’s head simply topple off his body and onto the floor. The headless body crumpled to the floor on top of him.

         Spam fought to maintain consciousness. To his relief, he felt the body being pulled off from on top of him. Focusing on what was happening, he recognized Azreal holding the headless body with one hand and reaching down and grabbing a handful of hair on the creatures head with the other hand. Then he turned and walked out the open doorway, the body of the creature in one hand and the head held securely in the other. Azreal disappeared out the doorway just before Spam lost consciousness.

********************

         Spam laid there all night. He was awakened by Cassidy washing his face with a cool wet cloth and speaking his name.

         He stammered, “It’s OK, Cass. I’m OK.”

          “Oh my god, Spam. It looks like a war happened in here. Are you sure you’re OK?” Concern flooded Cassidy’s voice.

          “Yeah, Cass, I’m OK. And, you’re right it was a war and I was losing. I thought I was gone when Azreal showed up. It was incredible, Cass. He sliced the head right from Nicu’s shoulders. At least I think he did.”

         Spam looked around his office. The place was a mess. Furniture was overturned. There were holes in the walls. But, there was no blood. Except for his. He had a few cuts on his head and arms, but otherwise he determined he was not hurt, sore, but in one piece.

          “Is it over, Spam?” Cassidy questioned.

          “Yeah, it’s over, Doll.”

         Spam slowly raised to his feet and walked over to his desk and picked up the phone and began dialing Dave’s number.

          “I’ve got to call Dave and report the body. Azreal killed Nicu last night. I saw it.”

         Cassidy reached over and hung the phone up before the Dave picked up the call.

         “What are you doing, Cass?” Spam protested.

          “What are you going to tell them, Spam? Think about it.”

         Spam thought for a second and then slowly replied, “Well, I was going to tell them that a vampire named Nicu beat the living hell out of me last night. And, before he could finish, a Romanian monk materialized with a sword and cut off his head. Forget that there is no body, no blood, and no monk.”

         Spam sat back in his chair and continued, “Yeah, I see what you mean, Cass. Heck, I’m not even sure it really happened. If it wasn’t for this ring, I’d have no proof at all.”

         Spam looked down at his finger. The ring was gone.

          “The ring—I was wearing the ring when Azreal dragged Nicu out of here. I know I was.”

         Cassidy looked at Spam puzzled, “Where could it have gone?”

          “I don’t know. Heck, there’s a lot I don’t know about this situation.” Spam remarked shaking his head slowly.

          “Will we ever see him again? I mean Azreal; do you think he’ll come back?” Cassidy asked.

          “I don’t think so Cass. I think he’s gone. At least I hope we never see him again.”

         Spam laid his head back on his chair's headrest, closed his eyes, sighed, and quietly murmured, “You know, I think I need a little vacation.”

         Cassidy smiled at her boss and agreed. “Yeah, Spam, we both do.”