Autumnal Tales, page 30
“Look,” said Stone, pointing to where wiring ran from the computers to makeshift phone jacks and a junction box. “This station box is used for local power routing commands!”
“Yeah, now look over here,” said Huerta, pointing at the body that lay sprawled just beyond the work area. “No wonder that door was easy to open, there’s been a lot of traffic coming through here.”
Maxwell Larose lay face down in a pool of blood, shot twice in the chest. Huerta saw right away that he’d been killed within the last hour: the body was still warm, rigor mortis hadn’t set in and the blood had hardly begun to clot; in fact, it still oozed lazily from the terrible wounds.
“My God...”
“Mr. Stone, you’d better call the police right away.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Stone said and then was gone.
Stooping, Huerta pulled Larose’ hand from inside his coat. In it, was a computer disk which proved to be what everyone was looking for, the file on the surface tension process. It seemed that whoever killed Larose, had missed it. Things were starting to get confusing but Huerta tried to sort them out anyway:
A) Larose was probably done in by whoever it was that had been one step ahead of his investigation from the start. Someone who didn’t want anyone getting their hands on the surface tension process but who wasn’t necessarily after it for himself.
B) Bevins and Culverd were killed by the same person who also threatened Ducette. That person did care about getting hold of the surface tension process because he did a thorough job of searching each man’s belongings.
Huerta felt strongly about two things: that he was close to an answer and that it probably lay back with Donald Ducette.
*
By the time Huerta could manage to get away from police headquarters, night had fallen. And when he arrived at Ducette’s front gate, no one had answered his repeated rings for assistance. Giving up, he’d climbed the wall, passed through the empty bushes and was now standing quiet as a little kitty cat in the middle of the gravel driveway.
And he didn’t like it.
Where’d the guards go? Ducette wasn’t likely to have dismissed them with his partners’ killer still at large; unless what he’d begun to suspect were true.
Suddenly a light flickered on in the house about where he’d spoken with Ducette earlier in the day. Two windows glared yellow, like feral eyes in the jungle of vegetation that filled the grounds. In the background, the regular pulsing of the ocean and the chirp of insects filled the night with hidden life.
At the door, he let the knocker fall. In one hand, he held the disk with the surface tension file, the other was in his pocket fingering the reassuring weight of a pistol. The door opened and Ducette was there.
“You’re back already?” he said with understandable surprise. “Did you find the file?”
There was no need for Huerta to reply as the tell tale disk in his hand was plain enough. In an instant, Ducette had taken it and was making his way to the nearest computer terminal. Huerta closed the door behind him and followed.
In a small study just off the corridor, Huerta gave Ducette time to load the disk and to check its authenticity. He was about to pull out his gun and ask him the big one when the Prof turned around, a pistol pointed at Huerta’s gut.
Huerta froze, his hand still resting on the .38 hidden in his coat pocket.
“You don’t seem surprised, Mr. Huerta,” said Ducette, smugly.
Huerta shrugged with what he hoped was convincing unconcern. “I kind of expected you to have been involved in all this more deeply than you let on.”
Ducette smiled. “Please remove your hand from your coat pocket, Mr. Huerta. Slowly. That’s it.”
“So are you going to admit to the murdering your partners?”
“It’s true, but how did you catch on?”
“A couple of things,” said Huerta nonchalantly. “But mostly it was the postmarks on the envelopes with the death threats. All mailed on the same day from the same place. Bevins’ and Culverd’s arriving about the same time and yours, by your own admission, coming in about two weeks later just didn’t add up. The other thing was the fact that there was no evidence of a struggle or a break-in at either Bevins’ or Culverd’s homes and that in both cases, the men were killed at close quarters. For that to have happened, the killer would have had to have been someone they knew and trusted. Our prime suspect Max Larose, didn’t fit that bill because the overriding factor in both murders was the supposed search for the surface tension process. Something Larose, as its discoverer, presumably already had. When I found Larose’s body at the plant, that left the shady buyer, Mr. Trank as the perp...or you...”
“Larose is dead?” For the first time since coming into the house, Huerta saw uncertainty on the scientist’s face.
“Where do you think I got that disk?”
“Who killed him?”
“I figure, if not you, then Trank. But then why’d you dismiss the guards unless you knew the last man you needed to fear was dead? They’d been hired for show after all, to convince everybody that you were in mortal fear of your life.”
“All correct, Mr. Huerta,” Ducette said, “but I didn’t kill Larose.”
“Then Trank...”
“While leaving the disk behind? Hardly likely. It seems, Mr. Huerta, that you’re conclusions are half baked at best.”
“Yeah, but then there’s the part that isn’t.”
Ducette looked at the gun in his hand. “Well, it seems that I’ve tipped my hand too soon, doesn’t it? For the record, although I admit to the murders of Bevins and Culverd, I had nothing to do with that of Larose. Poor Max must have been the victim of a random slaying. Perhaps someone at the plant found him where he wasn’t supposed to be and took advantage of that. He was killed, perhaps for the few dollars he may have had on him. Such a scenario would explain why the disk was still on him when you found his body.
“There are more important things however, than mere money, Mr. Huerta,” Ducette continued. “Power, prestige, immortality, those are what I’ve been after and my partners were only a means to achieving that end, they were always expendable. You see, I learned of Max’s surface tension theories years ago and realized even then their potential. Well, I determined to have them for myself and began to plan. I convinced Max to join myself and the others in a new venture which would allow us all to pool our expertise on each other’s projects for mutual gain. I didn’t care about the others’ projects, I asked them aboard only for protective coloration; to convince Max that his wasn’t any more special than ours. But just as I felt real progress was being made on the surface tension project, things began to unravel.
“Hyde was killed in a boating accident and Trank began asking around. Despite my best efforts, the rest of us began to bicker until Max up and left. Naturally, I was furious! After checking, I’d discovered that he’d purged every record Alpha-Omega had on the surface tension process. That meant only one thing to me: that Max sensed the project was nearing completion and that he intended on keeping the results to himself. To prevent the work of years from being wrecked, I had to speed up my original plans. Besides finding Max, I also had to dispose of the others.”
“Making you the sole beneficiary of the fruits of Alpha-Omega Research?”
“Exactly. If all had gone according to my timetable, things would’ve proceeded more smoothly than they subsequently have. Originally, the others would all have died in a tragic laboratory explosion, but with Max’s disappearance, I had to forestall that until I could determine if either Barry or Judson knew anything of Max’s whereabouts. It was then that I was struck by true inspiration! I would rid myself of my now useless partners while fixing the blame on poor Max! By sending out death threats to Barry, Judson and myself, suspicion for the subsequent deaths would naturally fall on our missing partner by whose precipitate actions, that of stealing company property and disappearing without notice, would seem to possess the requisite motive.
“After the death threats were mailed, I visited Barry and Judson in turn, questioned and then disposed of them,” Ducette shrugged. “Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find Max on my own before the police entered the picture. That was why I had to hire to you. While I played the part of the fearful professor, you’d do the footwork for me. I must admit, however, that you produced results far more quickly than I’d imagined.”
“Well, I...”
But Huerta wasn’t given the time to finish what he was going to say. Ducette fired two shots from his pistol. They found their mark and Huerta fell dead to the floor.
*
It was a few hours later. Ducette sat bathed in the soft glow of the computer monitor studying the graphs and equations displayed there. A grim satisfaction showed on his face for both the possession of what he’d tried for so long to acquire and the efficient manner with which he’d disposed of the detective’s body. (He’d simply placed it in an empty niche in the family vault to the rear of the house). Alongside the desk, a sliding glass door stood open to the night and the brisk sea air. All was peaceful until he felt an indefinable alteration in the atmosphere of the house. Something had changed, had been added to it, but just what it was, he couldn’t tell.
He’d been struggling with the feeling for some minutes when a voice spoke from behind him.
“Does it make any sense to you, Don?”
Surprised, Ducette spun to his feet, stumbling slightly back against the desk.
Although little was visible in the darkened room, there was enough light coming from the monitor screen to reveal the features of the man standing before him.
“Arthur!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide as saucers. “Alive! How...”
Hyde stood in the uncertain shadows, an automatic held firmly in his fist, its muzzle rock-steady as it pointed menacingly at Ducette’s chest. With his free hand, Hyde removed his hat and coat, revealing nothing out of the ordinary.
“Arthur, we...I thought you were dead!”
“I’m sure you did, otherwise you would’ve come after me the same way you did with the others.” Hyde smiled knowingly.
“What about the others...?”
Hyde laughed softly, shortly. “What do you take me for, as big a fool as Judson? Or poor, naive Barry? The only ones in our little group I could respect for an ounce of real brains was you and Max and you had the least of all three of us! Did you really suppose that I couldn’t see what you were up to from the beginning? You were so clumsy and heavy handed. Wouldn’t surprise me if Max saw through you all along too. Why else would he take off the way did?
Hyde crossed the room as he spoke, never taking Ducette from his sights. “I’d known of Max’s research on surface tension too and when you told me that he’d be joining Alpha-Omega I agreed to come in hoping at a shot of stealing the process. Imagine my chagrin to learn that the whole thing was a set-up by you to do just that little thing? Well, once I figured that out, it was easy to sit back and let you do all the leg work, take all the risks, then when the time was right, step in and reap the rewards.
“Unfortunately, as I said, Max wasn’t as naive as the others. He suspected what you were up to and he must’ve gotten a whif of my own ambitions. He stayed just long enough to get me to help him perfect some minor deficiencies in the process then moved to protect himself.
“He must’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone; testing the long distance efficiency of the surface tension process and striking at me while I was sailing off Nahant that day. Using connections he’d secretly made at the power plant, he targeted me with his machine and in an instant I was dead, reduced to the waters that compose 98% of the human body. His process, as you well know, utilized theories first postulated by Bjorn Nordenstrom involving an electrical system in the body that actually regulates and keeps in balance the body’s internal organics. Judson’s work in this area aided Max better than he knew. Anyway, with the electrical synapses in my body canceled, I simply dissolved as the molecular make-up of my body flew apart in their artificially induced agitation.”
“Wait, wait,” said Ducette, holding up a hand. “You said you died...?”
“Well, maybe,” Hyde said, shrugging. “As far as I know, for a few months I’d ceased to exist until I found myself lying in the surf at Hampton Beach. It took me a few days to dope out what must’ve happened: something Max and I never predicted. There are all kinds of infinitely subtle shifts in the planet’s electro-magnetic waves, Don. Waves given off by the earth’s motion: combinations of its revolution around the sun, its rotation and tilting on its axis, even the effects on it of the moon, sun and sometimes the nearer planets. These shifts in polarization occur at various lengths and times. Somehow, the disintegration caused by the surface tension process is not permanent, but at the mercy of these shifts in the earth’s electromagnetic spectrum. In my case, they must have realigned in such a way as to re-excite the scattered molecules of my body, drawing them together. By the same token, it’s possible the electromagnetic band could shift again, with the result that I could ‘die” again, the next time permanently. So if you don’t mind, before that happens, I’ll just conclude the last act of this opera bouffe...”
Hyde reached for the telephone, never letting his gun waver from its target.
Picking up the receiver, he punched for the operator. “Hello, can you get me the Marblehead Police Department, please? Thank you.” While waiting, he continued. “Anyway, as soon as I’d guessed what happened, and that it might not be permanent, I moved quickly to make sure you and Max got what was coming to you. Unfortunately, my efforts were hampered by your clumsy murders of Barry and Judson. On the other hand, there were enough scraps of information lying about that I was able to find Max’ hideout before your hired help did...excuse me. Police Headquarters? Yes, I’d like to report the identity of the man who killed Prof. Maxwell Larose. What’s that? Oh, sixty-three Ocean Crest Drive. That’s it... What? Why, he’s the killer! As a matter of fact, he’s here now, I’m using the murder weapon to keep him at gunpoint. All right, thank you.” He hung up. “They said they’d be right over.”
“But I didn’t kill Max,” said Ducette with desperation. “And you have no evidence that I killed Barry and Judson!”
“And the detective, don’t forget him. But that’s all right, I killed Max. Revenge pure and simple and if I’m right, I’ll no doubt be paying for my greed for some time to come. It’s only fitting that you also should pay in some measure. It’s the least I could do for the others and that hapless detective, the only truly innocent parties in this whole fiasco. Although I have to admit, it is ironic that you’ll be rotting in prison for the rest of your life for the one murder you didn’t commit!
“Now if you’ll just turn around...”
Ducette felt the pressure of the gun in his back.
“Now hand me your gun and don’t try anything. I won’t hesitate to shoot you if I have to and where would that leave your trial? After all, there’s always the chance you could beat the rap, isn’t there?”
Ducette reached into a desk drawer and produced his pistol. He handed it over his shoulder to Hyde, butt first.
“All right, now take this,” said Hyde, handing Ducette his own pistol while keeping the other firmly in Ducette’s back.
Ducette took the other gun, hefting it firmly.
“Good, now give it back.”
Hyde took the weapon, gingerly holding it by sticking his gloved finger through the trigger-guard. Then, still keeping the first pistol firmly in his colleague’s back, he struck the “delete” key on the computer’s keyboard wiping out every last trace of the results of the surface tension research. Ducette jumped after Hyde took the gun from his back and fired several shots into the hard drive. “No need to make things too easy for anyone else, hmm?” Satisfied, Hyde left his gun, now thoroughly covered with Ducette’s incriminating fingerprints, on the desk where it could be easily found when the police arrived.
“Okay, Don, head for the French doors.”
Together, they stepped outside onto a flagstoned patio that overlooked the ocean; a series of stone steps disappeared into the darkness leading to the beach far below. The moon had just come out from behind some clouds and the trees, just turning color this early in the Autumn season, waved gently in the breeze. Bats squeaked from somewhere inland.
The moment was shattered by the arrival of the police. In moments, they could be heard pounding at the front door.
“What about you Arthur?” asked Ducette, now strangely calm. “How will you explain yourself to the police?”
“Oh, don’t worry about me Don; remember those electromagnetic waves I was telling you about? In my new, unstable state, I’m more sensitive to their shiftings and alterations. Of necessity, I’ve become quite the expert in astrology and tonight, the moon passes between Earth and Mars.” He stepped back from Ducette and glanced at his watch. “Goodbye, Don. Maybe I’ll drop by and visit you when your behind bars...but only when the stars are right!”
Sensing the immediate danger from Hyde was gone, Ducette turned to face him just as Hyde flung his pistol far out over the water. Before Ducette’s amazed eyes, his former colleague dissolved and melted and finally was reduced to a wet smear on the flagstones that dribbled down the stone steps to the sea below.
From inside the house, there was a crash and slam of a heavy door followed by frenzied shouts that grew louder as the police entered the study.
Survivors
Fear, anger, surprise, disgust. Her fingers groped for and clung desperately to every crack and irregularity of the uniform surface beneath her as she was relentlessly dragged from the dim, neon lit street to the impenetrable black of the alley. Her fingers found a temporary hold in a shattered portion of the sidewalk, but her nails were too weak to capitalize on the sudden opportunity. A number of them cracked audibly, and a few were torn whole from her fingers. She cried out in the sudden pain, instinctively drawing her hand to her body. Instantly, she saw her error and sought a grip at the corner of the building as it slid past her too late. The dim light of the street was cut off as she was pulled unceremoniously over the swill and refuse of weeks of uncollected garbage, her skirt gathered abound her hips, her fingers in pain and bleeding, her face scratched.
