Something Fishy

by Lewayne L. White

conclusion

Hours later, Dagan and I sat at our respective desks, sifting through autopsy results, toxicology reports, and the other paperwork generated by violent death. We still had five dead bodies, and no clear method of execution.

“Looks like you were sort of right,” Dagan said.

“Sort of?”

“There was a residue in the wine bottles, but it wasn’t a poison or potion.”

“Then what was it?”

Dagan wrinkled up his nose. “Unidentified biological material.”

I snorted. “All the spells available to them, and they can’t do better than that?”

Dagan shrugged. “CSW thinks there might be some sort of acid in the mixture, because some of the interior of the bodies was eaten away.”

“Yummy,” I replied. “Ready for lunch?”

One of the Intelligence dwarves strolled up, dropped a folder on Dagan’s desk, and said, “Here’s Porgie’s file. We’ve had no luck finding him.”

“Thanks,” Dagan said, but the dwarf had already strolled back to work, whistling.

“Georgie Porgie sure looks good for the Sweets murders,” I said. “Cuckolded husband and all.”

“Sure,” Dagan replied. “But what about Old King Cole?”

I sighed.

Dagan blinked at the folder. “Is there a New Britain around here?”

“Couldn’t say,” I said. “Fairy Tale Land geography isn’t my thing.”

“According to this file, Porgie spent some time in New Britain as a researcher.”

I flipped through my notes. “I thought he was an apothecary. And how’d he get there?”

“Exchange program, like us,” Dagan said. “Only he did it while studying at university.”

“Where we come from, isn’t New Britain near Australia or something?”

Dagan nodded. “New Britain is an island in New Guinea.”

“What was he researching?”

“Tribal myths and legends. Even wrote a couple papers on animal legends of New Britain.”

“Sort of interesting, I guess. But is it helpful?”

Dagan shrugged. Then his phone rang.

“Michael.”

He sat up. “Another one?”

I stood and grabbed my jacket off the back of my chair.

Dagan rung off, stood, and grabbed his jacket.

“Prince Bullfrog,” Dagan said as we headed out to the unmarked. “Dead beside the gazing pool in his castle.”

We arrived at the scene a few minutes later.

Dagan got Paper, I got Scissors.

He got to take statements, I got to check the crime scene.

Prince Bullfrog was another low-end crime boss. When Big Bad Wolf moved into town, he bullied Bullfrog into giving up his territory. Apparently Wolf got hold of Bullfrog’s golden ball, a talisman that had gotten him the love of his life.

The ball had enabled Bullfrog to get a kiss from the princess, which returned him to human form. When she died, Bullfrog reverted to an anthropomorphic frog form. It made it difficult for him to hold his power base among the underworld, and made it easy for Wolf to take over.

Some also say that he hadn’t struggled to hold onto his empire, because he had no reason to live. When the princess died, Bullfrog did, too.

If he didn’t then, he sure had now.

He lay sprawled beside the pool, one hand drifting in the water. The other hand reached toward the golden ball in the grass beside him.

His head was gone.

A trail of blood ran from the stump of his neck down an arm, and disappeared into the pool’s inky depths.

I leaned toward the body, looking it over when...

My cell phone rang, and I nearly jumped into the pond.

“Lilly,” I said, heart hammering.

“Hazel, with CSW,” said a creaky voice in my ear.

“What?”

“Just wanted to update you on an anomaly.”

“And...?”

“Fish scales.”

I blinked.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The unidentified material in the bottles and the wounds. Incredibly tiny fish scales.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing so far. Just thought we’d let you know.”

“Thanks,” I said, ringing off.

“Well, this certainly looks like a pattern,” I said to myself. “Three dead guys with criminal enterprises killed by some bizarre decapitation.”

I looked around the pool, then into the pool.

Bottomless, dark, and uninviting.

I leaned over, peering closer...

Something exploded out of the water, and I flipped backward, avoiding huge clashing teeth.

I emptied half a clip into the thing before it fell thrashing back into the water. The creature landed with such force that a small tidal wave washed over me and Bullfrog, sending us spinning away from the pool’s edge.

Staggering to my feet, I shook off the scummy water. Then I lunged for the water’s edge, and emptied the rest of the clip into the pool.

A black oily fluid rose to the surface, obscuring my view into the water. I reloaded my pistol, and leaned back over the blackening surface.

“Holy moose,” said Dagan, nearly causing me to fall into the pool. “What are you doing out here?”

“Mucking up the crime scene,” growled one of the CSWs.

* * *

Back at Central, I stood toweling off my hair, as Dagan and the CSW team leader went over things.

“The black oily stuff is called ichor,” Dagan said. “It’s a blood-like substance in certain supernatural creatures.”

Looking at his notebook, he added, “The trail of blood leading into the pool is blood, specifically Bullfrog’s. We found a lot of it in the samples CSW skimmed from the water.”

The CSW stood nearby, arms folded. After a moment, she said, “The amount of blood seems excessive for the situation. There’s too much, if, as you’ve suggested, the killer is cleaning his weapon. Besides, we’ve found-”

She paused, reading from notes, “Disassociated bits of Bullfrog in the water.”

“So the killer tossed his head into the pool, and that monster fish-thing ate it,” I said. “By the way, what was that thing?”

The CSW shrugged her shoulders. “A big fish?”

“You haven’t seen anything like it before?”

She shook her head. “We even had a cryptozoologist review your report. She came up with nothing.”

Dagan sighed, “The groundskeeper drained the pool after you shot everything up. The pool turned out to be an old well, and about a hundred feet deep.”

“CSW found nothing in the well, either,” the witch said. “At the base of the well shaft we discovered a couple tunnels leading away. Whatever that fish was, it’s gone.”

A warlock approached the CSW and handed her some scrolls. Then he ducked away.

“Ballistics report came in,” the CSW said. “We didn’t find a single round from your gun anywhere in the pool or nearby area. You apparently hit the fish with every shot.”

Dagan smiled. “Nice shootin’, Tex.”

The CSW unrolled the other scroll, and her eyes widened.

“Those scales we found at the other crime scenes match some we found in Bullfrog’s pool.”

I nodded. “Sure, we found a bottle of that same wine by Bullfrog’s corpse.”

“Except,” the witch interrupted. “the scales in the pool are the size one would expect on a fish as big as you described.”

Dagan’s eyes grew wide, and he said, “I’m an idiot.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I said. “We know you do your best.”

Dagan ignored me, pulled a couple binders from his desk and started to flip through them.

When he found what he was looking for, he said, “Is this what you saw?”

I looked at the page he marked. It featured several sketches of giant silvery fish. Each drawing bore the title “TAUA.”

“What is that?”

Dagan showed me the cover of the binder.

“Nightmares in Nature,” I read aloud. “Supernatural and mythological animals among the population of New Britain.”

“By George E. Porgie,” Dagan finished. “Our victims have been killed by a fish.”

The CSW raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“According to this paper,” Dagan said. “the taua is an invincible fish. It remains alive even after being filleted, cooked and eaten.”

“Ewww,” I said. “What’s it do, wiggle around in your gut until-”

Dagan shook his head. “It grows, and eats its way out, usually, by going back out the way it came in. Unfortunately, it grows at such a rapid rate-”

“By the time it reaches the outside, it’s big enough to bite the head off from the inside in order to free itself,” the CSW finished. “The interior damage to the corpses.”

“You think Georgie found some of these taua things and brought them back?” I asked.

Dagan shrugged. “Even if we assume he did, why would he be killing off these guys? I’d understand Candyman, but why the others?”

“They’re mostly middle-management mobsters,” the CSW said. “Easily replaced.”

“Cats and dogs,” I said.

“What?”

“Cats and dogs,” I repeated. “Wolf and Puss in Boots. Wolf’s the new alpha male who’s moved into the territory. He’s gotten his fangs into a lot of business already.”

“And Puss has been fighting back,” Dagan added. “And trying to show everyone he’s still king of the cats.”

“So, you think one of them got Porgie to do these guys so he could replace them with his own personnel?” asked the CSW.

“Assuming it’s Porgie,” I said. “Like Dagan asked, why the rest of them? It makes sense if it’s masterminded by Puss or Wolf, but not necessarily Porgie solo.”

“Then find a link between Porgie and Wolf or Puss,” said the CSW. “And let me know when you have your next dead body.”

With that, she turned and headed out of the office.

Dagan started flipping through the file on Porgie.

I started making some phone calls.

After a while, Dagan said, “Only thing that looks like a possibility is this ‘Pudding and Pie’ Pharmaceuticals.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of name is that?”

Dagan shrugged. “Got me. But, I cross-referenced a few things. Once you dig through all the names, it’s a company owned by Wolf.”

“And what do they do?”

“Experimental drugs. They travel all over the worlds looking for flora and fauna with medicinal properties that they can use to manufacture high-end drugs.”

“They produced anything yet?”

Dagan shrugged. “A few things, once in a while you’ll see an ad on TV for some drug.”

“The one’s where they never actually tell you what it does, they just tell you to ask your doctor if it’s right for you?”

“Exactly,” Dagan said. “But no big money scores yet. Except...”

“Except somehow they’re still making a lot of money.”

Dagan nodded. “And according to a couple people at Pudding and Pie, Porgie was head of R&D.”

“So now we have Porgie linked with Wolf via a highly profitable drug company that doesn’t seem to actually do a lot of business.”

“Between Porgie and Wolf, we have means, motive, and opportunity,” Dagan said.

“At least enough to give us somewhere to go.”

“Sort of,” Dagan said. “Wolf’s ‘out of town,’ and Porgie’s still in the wind.”

“You think Porgie’s getting orders from Wolf? Or do you think he just got told to whack a few guys?”

Dagan shrugged. “It’s hard to say. We’re making some really big leaps just to put things together the way we have.”

I sighed. “Let me make a call.”

After steeling myself, and cursing myself, and asking myself how many different ways I was compromising myself, I called Casey’s cell number.

After a moment, I heard his rich baritone say, “Casey.”

“Hi. It’s me.”

“Ace,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Are we on good terms again?”

“We’ll see after I ask you a couple questions.”

His voice changed slightly. “About?”

“Georgie Porgie.”

“Who?”

“C’mon, Casey. Don’t tell me you haven’t been watching the news. The guy suspected of killing a bunch of-”

“Sorry, can’t help you,” he said. “I better go.”

“Wait! Look, Casey, I think we can link him to Wolf,” I said. “If you know something that can help us, maybe we can work a deal. If Wolf’s dirty, and I can get him for it, I will. It’s my job.”

He said nothing. But he didn’t hang up on me, either.

“I don’t want you to go down with Wolf.”

“I won’t,” he said.

“Casey...”

“Ace, I gotta go,” he replied. “Maybe we can talk some other time. When it isn’t about business.”

He hung up, and I stuffed my phone in my jacket pocket with entirely more force than was necessary.

I walked back to my desk, kicked the chair, and sat down.

“Casey unwilling or unable to help?” Dagan asked.

“How do you know I talked to Casey?”

Dagan looked at me with an “Oh, please,” expression on his face.

“Fine. I called Casey. Happy?”

“Apparently, you aren’t.”

“No. But, I don’t know if I’m angry that he isn’t going to help, or because I asked him to begin with.”

“You know,” Dagan said, handing me a card. “The FTPD has a fine counseling service available to its staff and their families at no cost or-”

“Shut up,” I said snatching the card away, tearing it up, and throwing the remains into the garbage. But, it had been enough to break my mood.

“See,” Dagan said, noticing a hint of smile. “They’ve helped already.”

I shook my head. “Well, now where do we go? We have a prime suspect, but we don’t know how to find him.”

Dagan blinked, and started shuffling through some papers. “Porgie’s got a Pudding and Pie credit card.”

“And?”

“It’s how he manages his expense account. It’s also how he books travel arrangements,” Dagan said grabbing his desk phone. “Maybe he’s still using it.”

After a few minutes, he hung up. “We’ve got cash withdrawals from several ATM’s, payments at restaurants, and cab fare.”

“Why are you smiling?”

“He also used it to purchase a case of that cheap wine we found at the crime scenes. And, he just booked a flight out of Fairy Tale Land.”

Both of us were out the door in a flash, and headed to our unmarked at full speed, yelling “Rock, Paper Scissors!” in unison.

I just shut the driver’s side door and started the engine when the dispatcher’s voice called from the radio.

Dagan grabbed the mike and responded as I wheeled out of the parking space.

“Hold on, Ace,” Dagan said. “Change of plans.”

“But, we’ve got to get to the-”

Dagan shook his head. “Porgie’s body just turned up. Heartbreak Hotel.”

I pounded the steering wheel, said a few unladylike words, then pulled into the street and headed for the crime scene.

We arrived at the hotel, now used as a flop house, and the manager escorted us to room 204. The pair of uniform cops on guard stepped aside, and the manager unlocked the door.

“Didn’t want anyone stealing the dead guy’s stuff,” the manager said. “Plus, you guys always gripe if someone tampers with the crime scene.”

He crooked his fingers on ‘crime scene,’ and snorted. “I seen plenty o’ suicides in this place. Nothing for you here. But, he’s in the bathroom, if you want to go through the motions.”

With that, he walked away grumbling about the inconvenience of the police coming by all the time.

“After you,” I said to Dagan.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but stepped into the room. I followed, already suspecting what we’d find.

Georgie Porgie’s body sat on the toilet, fully clothed and headless. A shattered bottle of the cheap wine lay at his feet, next to the suicide note. A trail of blood led from the stump of his neck to the sink drain.

I put gloves on and lifted the note.

“He takes sole responsibility for the murders,” I said. “He killed Candyman because of the affair, and then decided he could rid the world of more evildoers.”

“I assume that’s his word not yours,” Dagan said. “Let me guess, the guilt got to him.”

I nodded. “He decided he had become an evildoer himself, and so would suffer the same fate as his victims.”

I crumpled up the note, threw it at the wall, and said a few more unladylike words.

“You know CSW is going to be honked off that you did that.”

“So?” I said. “We’re supposed to believe this is a simple suicide. We just go through the motions, and close a bunch of cases. We’re not supposed to look any deeper.”

I stomped on the remains of the bottle, sending glass shards skidding across the floor. “Everything’s all wrapped up. We move on to the next case and don’t look into the connections to Wolf.”

I kicked some more glass. “We’re supposed to ignore the fact that as soon as I told Casey we might be able to tie Porgie to Wolf, Porgie got a taua cocktail.”

Dagan grabbed my shoulder. “We can’t prove Casey or Wolf had anything to do with-”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? We can’t ever prove Wolf is dirty. We never know for sure.”

“This isn’t about Wolf.”

I shook my head. “Before this, Casey and I could always pretend that our respective lives didn’t conflict. There wasn’t any ‘evidence’ to interfere with our illusions.”

Dagan looked around the room. “Technically, there still isn’t.”

“But, now I have doubt, suspicion. I’m always going to wonder if me talking to Casey got Porgie killed.”

“Porgie’s decision to work and then murder for Wolf got him killed,” Dagan said. “If you think about it, he committed suicide a long time ago. He just finally died from it.”

“What do you think that means for Casey?” I said.

Dagan shrugged.

We both sighed.

“CSW,” said a creaky voice from the hallway. “Ready for us to process the scene?”

“Come on in,” Dagan yelled out.

Dagan and I stepped from the bathroom, and walked through the bedroom, passing the CSW team.

“Manager said it was a suicide,” the team leader said.

“I doubt you’ll find any evidence to the contrary,” I said.