Chapter #18A Monster of a Client by: Seuzz   Chapter 1
Your head is pounding as you fumble open the motel room door. "Mr. Bredon?" says the man who knocked.
Instantly, you dislike him. He is stylishly dressed in a dark blue suit, and his mane of gray hair has silver highlights. Your own hair is greasy and hangs in pseudo-dreadlocks down to your jaw. Your jacket, undershirt, and slacks haven't been washed in weeks.
You reply with a grunt. It's what Rick would do.
"Sean Voorhees gave me your name. When he told me you were in town -- "
"And what's your name?"
He licks his lips. "Karl Siodmak. I have a problem, and Sean told me -- "
"Why am I interested in hearsay?"
The man's scalp slides back, and he grimaces. It's almost like a dog showing his teeth.
"I've heard you help crazy people, Mr. Bredon," he says. "Or people whose stories sound crazy. I'm not crazy, but I know how my story sounds. I'm being blackmailed."
"You're gonna have to do better than that if you want me to think you're crazy."
"It's on account of this." He writes on a business card, hands it to you. He watches you closely as you read what he's written.
"Like that, huh? Excuse me a minute." You slam the door on his snout, and call Rick. "Take the case," he tells you.
"But -- "
"I need the money, squirt. That's why you're decoying for me while I'm in Singapore."
You sigh and pull your new client into the room. "Alright, Chaney, tell me all about it."
Chapter 2
Siodmak calls his house a "log cabin," which is like calling Versailles a "hunting lodge." It sits on a dozen square miles of pristine mountain wilderness reachable only by SUV. It has four wings, and the central hall is three stories high. "Nice doghouse," you observe as he leads you inside.
For a man who's being blackmailed, he's very casual about leaving the incriminating photographs out. "They want fifty thousand to keep quiet," he says as he scoops them off his desk and hands them to you. He can't tell you who 'they' are, as 'they' only communicated with the dozen glossies and a note.
"So this is your shameful heritage." You flip through the pictures, and toss them aside with a snort. "These don't prove anything. Let your guy squawk. Who'd believe him?"
"My fiance would. On account of her cousins."
"They believe in this bullshit?"
"It's not bullshit, Mr. Bredon," Siodmak says quietly.
"Look, I don't have to believe you to do my job, so don't try convincing me. Where do your fiance's cousins hang out?"
He blinks. "What does that matter?"
"They're the real problem, right? If I can convince them not to make a stink with your fiance, then your blackmailer's got nothing to hold over you. Not those pictures. Sell 'em to National Geographic, if you want."
"I want to know who my blackmailer is."
You raise your chin. "Why? So you can bite him and make him crazy too? You hire me, we do it my way."
He glowers, then calls someone on his cell phone, and passes a number on to you. It turns out these cousins are as peripatetic as Rick, but they happen to be in town.
Chapter 3
You meet them at a honky-tonk bar: a pair of strapping, twenty-something lads in plaid work shirts, denim jeans and jackets, heavy boots. They express their backwoods thuggishness by tipping the longneck beers against the corners of their mouths and fingering the split ends of the lank hockey hair they've tucked behind their ears. There's a snigger behind every word they say.
"We don't got any worries about Kathy," says the shorter of the pair, a blonde named Derek. He nudges his brunette brother, name of Sage. "Hey bro, you worried about Kathy?"
"Naw," Sage chortles. "She's falling into money." He winks at you as he lifts his beer.
You slump with disgust. "So I take it you two clowns wouldn't want to queer it for her."
Derek's eyes narrow. "Who you calling a clown, Stink-Britches?"
"I'm calling out your clown show for what it is, Krusty. The engagement's off on account of you two dipshits."
Their faces fall, and they exchange a hard glance. "Since when?"
"Since her fiance did a little due diligence, found out what a couple of nice little racists you are."
Derek's eyes flash. "Who says we're racist, Stink-Britches?"
"We don't got anything against guys like Siodmak," blurts out the ill-named Sage.
"Oh? And what kind of guys would those be?"
Sage opens his mouth to answer, then catches himself. His eyes water. Then he grins. "Rich stinkers."
"So for his money, you'd forgive any embarrassments in his family tree?"
The brothers have gotten very stiff, and their eyes glitter. "Sure," says Derek softly.
"That's fine, then." You slide out of the booth. "Let's go see Kathy. You can tell her what her fiance is, and that you don't hold it against him."
"What's he supposed to be?" Derek coldly demands.
You smile. "If you don't know what the magic words are, the engagement's off."
Chapter 4
"I hired you to salvage my engagement, Bredon, not to sabotage it!" Siodmak visibly bristles as he paces his study.
"You hired me to take a couple of blackmailers off your back. That's what I'm doing."
"By sabotaging my engagement! Yes, they can't blackmail me now, not when -- "
"Down, boy. You'll be fine. It's only off until it's on again." You take out a pistol -- not part of Rick's arsenal, but one you might need -- and rack a round. Siodmak visibly flinches, and you flash him a sour grin. "Wanna check the kind of bullets I'm using?"
"You called bullshit on my story."
"Niels Bohr called bullshit on lucky horseshoes. Didn't stop him from nailing one over his door." You nod at the floor-level grill in the wall. "Getting close to sunset. You should get in your panic room. If I read this right, there's gonna be some shots fired through that window after the sun's down."
"And if you're not right?"
"I'll put my paws in the air and beg forgiveness."
Siodmak stifles a snarl, drops to all fours, pushes the grill up like a doggie flap, and crawls through. You wedge it shut with a poker, to keep him from interfering.
And while you're near the floor, you replace your jacket with one of Siodmak's, and Rick's imago with Siodmak's. You sit at his desk and pretend to work.
At ten twenty-five a chime rings. You go into the hallway to untie the Husky you brought in special. With some encouraging clucks you send it into the study. You don't have to wait long for the shattering glass and a canine yelp.
You linger by the doorway, until you hear the rest of the French door being stealthily cleared away. Voices mutter. You peer into the room, and when both forms are visible throw your cloak over them. Then it's a simple matter of catching each at the side of the throat with your fingertips. They sag to the floor next to the dead dog.
You shoot Derek and Sage Pickett each in the leg -- a spot where they won't bleed much -- then fill their pockets with some of the loose valuables off Siodmak's shelves. After changing into one of your client's suits, you call the police and the paramedics. Before they leave, you secure a copy of your statement -- that of the shaken survivor of a home invasion -- so Siodmak will know what to say at the trial.
But you don't let your client out until well after the moon has set.
Chapter 5
"It was a nice little business." You're in that honky-tonk bar, sitting across from Rick, wearing a "lumberjack" face for the setting. You have a beer; he has a whole bottle of whiskey.
"Which biz is that?" he mutters. "The case, or the racket these Pickett boys had going?"
"You grade me on the case. I meant the Picketts. They're not bad at dealing with vampires and liches and -- " You drink. "Guys like Siodmak. They have the know-how and the equipment, got a trunkful of it, in fact. But they're smart enough to see that blackmail pays better than extermination. Find someone with a paranormal secret, offer a deal, pop the ones that won't pay and milk the ones that will. The girl was in on it. Siodmak wasn't the first one she'd wrangled an engagement out of. Just the richest."
"And when did you figure all this out?"
"I suspected it after Siodmak told me her cousins advertised as 'monster hunters'. It looked like an easy set up for them. An anonymous blackmailer threatens to tip his secret off to the only guys who'd believe a lot of superstitious bullshit? A blackmailer'd think there's money in it only if he also buys into the same superstition, and the Picketts were the only ones around who might. Occam's Razor."
"But what sealed it for you?"
"When they didn't tell Kathy what her boyfriend was, even to save the engagement. Because if they told her, they'd lose that credible threat to hold over Siodmak -- they'd be on record giving him a pass despite knowing what he was. And Sage tipped they knew what he was, alright. At least," you stammer as Rick holds your eye. "I thought he tipped it. Did I read it wrong?"
He grunts. "It was a reasonable gamble, squirt, and it paid off. Now what about Siodmak?"
You shrug. "I played it like you told me to, steered clear of building a case against him. All the evidence I've got, well, maybe he is what he says he is. Or maybe he's just crazy enough to think he's a -- "
To wake from this reverie: "The Boy from Before Everything, Part 2"  .  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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