The Death Gods (A Shell Scott Mystery) (65 page)

That also ended the most
educational and least strenuous portion of our just-beginning day
with the law. Events moved speedily thereafter. In the half hour or
so before everyone left Omega, Hank, Dane, and I were interrogated
separately in Wintersong’s office, then handcuffed and held
temporarily under guard in the large room outside that office; and
it seemed to me everything was coming full circle, because that was
the large lab-room where I’d first seen Dane, and all those captive
experimental animals in cages lining the walls; where, in fact, I’d
first seen, William M. Wintersong, M.D.

The police had, of course,
seized the Camcorder and the videotape it contained. We had
explained to the Sheriff and one of his deputies what was on the
tape, stressing its uniqueness and importance—and I managed to tell
the same thing to the Lieutenant I was acquainted with from Central
Homicide. I saw California’s junior Senator, Ed Manners, speaking
briefly with Hank, but they weren’t close enough for me to hear
what was said. What I could hear was Dane, a couple of feet away on
my right, worrying aloud at me.

She was worried about that
videotape, about whether she would ever get it back, or at least a
copy of it back, so she could take it to television people she knew
in Hollywood and New York, so she could review it to make sure the
climactic chapters of her book were word-for-word
authentic.

I interrupted her verbal
expressions of almost panicky concern, saying, “Dane, dear, relax a
little. Save your strength for when we go to dinner tonight, or
tomorrow—whenever we get sprung. Hank will see to it or I will,
that you get the tape sooner or later. Just as we promised,
okay?”

“
But I need it now, Shell.
I’ve got to tear the whole book apart, that must be obvious, and I
was so busy shooting it all I can’t...well, I can’t remember
everything that was said, and that happened—”

“
Look, if you’ve got to
worry about something, assume we’re all about to be thrown into
dungeons, and whipped with barbed wires. And get our nails pulled
out with pliers—not you, of course. You know I won’t let them harm
a pore of your pretty—”

“
I do? You
won’t?”

It was not said
tremulously, accompanied by a faint blush. No, there was something
in the way Dane spoke, as though shaking ice cubes with her
epiglottis, that reminded me I was standing there with my arms
stretched behind me, wrists encircled by handcuffs, not exactly in
control of the situation. Not, at least, at this particular
instant. Plus, her glance traveled from my face down my arms, and
sort of through my hip to the manacles. Maybe this wasn’t my
day.

On the other hand,
observing Dane’s glance, I also observed that it issued from those
great luminous green eyes, eyes that looked like hot emeralds
melting, eyes only inches from those stupendously provocative lips
that...well, right at the instant, they were kind of pressed
together into a thin red line, which was not what I’d been fondly
remembering, or thinking about, or planning to—

“
Hey,” I said, inspired, “I
already mentioned dinner, but didn’t hear you yell Wow or anything,
so let’s try it again. If they finish beating us with those barbed
whips early enough today, let’s go out to dinner tonight at that
same place where we had such a fantastic time until—”

“
Oh, my God, Shell, how can
you talk about something like that at a time like this?
I’ve—”

“
Something like
what?”

“—
got a million important
things to do, the whole Wintersong chapter to tear up and fix—it’ll
probably be most of the book now—”

“
Dane,” I interrupted her,
rather severely, “it isn’t even nine o’clock in the goddamned
morning yet, but it sounds like you’re already saying ‘Goodnight,
Shell,’ and if you want the goddamned truth, lady—”

I don’t think she heard
me. Certainly, she hadn’t stopped, going, “and a thousand phone
calls to make.”

“
Does this mean No?” I
said, to no avail.

So I stopped listening,
even though Dane was still gazing at my face—no, like once before,
or twice, or whatever, she was gazing past my head at something out
there yonder, gazing at yonder from starey eyes, sort of greenish,
like pools of split-pea soup.

“
Sheldon, do not, por
favor, be so glum, for we have not lost, we have won. Though it may
require a modicum of time before....”

That was Hank, only about
a yard from me, gazing intently at my face now. Those wise dark
eyes narrowed slightly, flicked from me to Dane and back to my
face, then he continued after only a brief pause, “...that which is
now certain becomes obvious to all. But you and I, we may not have
much time together. For the moment.”

I sighed. “Eight to five,
Hank, an hour after the local law absorbs that videotape, we’ll be
on our way.”

“
Probablamente. There are
other considerations, but I believe you are right. However, soon,
they will take us in different directions, you your way and me
mine, and it is possible we will not speak again until—until we
speak again. So remember all the significant things you have
learned, Sheldon, my friend.”

“
You can bet I’ll remember
some, Hank. As for all, I dunno, there’ve been one hell of a
lot—”

“
You will remember, for you
are of a tenacious mind, believe me, for I know.”

Dane had moved a step or
two away, was looking at something across the room, or maybe at
more yonder. Hank went on, brightly and briskly, either
empathetically tuned in and trying to brighten my moment, or giving
me a last flippant lesson, at least for this day.

“
Ai, caramba and Chihuahua
and all those excitements,” he said, grinning widely, those
super-sharp points of his gray mustache appearing to slice tiny
swathes though the air. “Do not worry about remembering any of
these things, just write them down casually in your head as fruits
from me of my long and actively-seeking life.” He paused only for a
moment. “But do remember the wonderful men, and their methods we
have come to know somewhat together, any one of which might end
most illness and misery in this land, even in this troubled world.
Think, Sheldon, if only one of these could prove so helpful to
many, so preserving of life, think of the world we would enjoy if
all were allowed, cherished in honesty, available to the sick and
the dying. Ai, that they have been so long denied and even now are
still denied, to us and our brothers and sisters, is enough to
trouble even Almighty God, and make the angels weep....”

“
Let’s go, Hernandez. You
too, Scott.”

That was a deputy, one
hand touching Hank’s arm, turning him around. Another deputy stood
next to me, Dane was already halfway across the room with
somebody.

After that, it all became
a kind of blurred montage, traveling in official cars, arriving at
the Sheriff’s Department, lots of questions, the same questions
over and over again. After an hour or two, I knew the “Wintersong”
videotape had been played for the Sheriff and half a dozen other
officers, then run over and over again for others throughout the
morning and on into the afternoon. I knew, too, there was
increasing interest, even unusual excitement, about what had been
seen, what everyone in the department now wanted to see.

They let me go, with the
usual warnings and admonitions, at 3:45 p.m. that Sunday afternoon.
I didn’t know, and couldn’t then find out, if Hank and Dane had
been released or were still being questioned. But, on my way out I
saw near the booking desk, two attorneys from POCUEH, and
PETA.

I called the LAPD, found
out from an officer where they’d arranged for the care of Lucinda’s
cat, Precious. An officer had deposited her with a veterinarian. I
drove there, picked up Precious in a wooden cat box and headed for
home.

When I got back to the
Spartan Apartment Hotel, it was dusk, the air soft, cooler now than
it had been throughout the day. It had been a long, long day,
finally ended. I carried my cat box, and what felt like twenty
extra pounds of me, up the stairs to 212. I let myself inside, put
the cat box atop my bed and stripped, then spent at least fifteen
minutes in the shower, under the steaming spray, unwinding and
washing off a lot of things, maybe including the invisible auras of
Wintersong and Belking. Then I rubbed down with a nubby towel, and
flopped on the bed.

Eyes closed, I watched
flickering images float, some dancing in a kind of shadowy space
before me. My first meeting with Henry Hernandez, M.D., and his
nice warm wife Eleanora, Jock-Jock, about-to-be-shattered, head
jerking, blood starting to spill over his lips, Rusty’s head, his
beautiful brown eyes glazing, Rusty dead. Guenther and Helga. So
much, so much. I pushed the images away.

After awhile I might have
drifted lazily into sleep, almost did, but suddenly there was a
small but stupendously piercing sound in my ear, a horrible sound
very much like the maaaa! of terminal tinnitus.

Yeah, slipped my mind
there. Just happened, where my head, and left ear, were lying, was
about an inch and a half from where I’d placed the wooden cat
carrier. Shaking a little, with the twanging inner vibration that
sometimes temporarily ruins you when you’re yanked awake from
almost-sleep, I peeled my eyes open. Rolled them left. And said,
not too sweetly.

“
Hello, you noisy damned
cat. I suppose you think I should take you home to Lucinda,
right?”

The cat, or kitten, didn’t
respond—just blinked at me, and then rubbed a paw over her face—but
I responded. The moment I said, aloud, “Lucinda,” the sound turned
into light waves and for an incandescent moment, I could see that
lovely lady demonstrating for me how it was that Precious wiggled
her little tush when she maaa’d.

I sat up, swung my feet to
the floor.

“
Lucinda!” I
said.

“
Maaa!

“
Right,” I said, “good
thinking,” got my book and looked up the number, sat down on the
bed again, grabbed the phone. I shook my head, took a couple of
deep breaths and then, wide awake, punched in the
numbers.

No mistaking that voice.
Soft, smooth, liquid, hot. “Hello?” She crammed about a paragraph
into the word.

“
Beautiful,” I said, “Hi
Lucinda. It’s me.”

After a pause, “Who’s
you?”

“
Well...well, I am a tall,
strong, ruggedly handsome, wise, rich, immortal
detective.”

“
Huh. I know lots of those.
Which one are you?”

That stumped me for a few
seconds. “Well...which would you like?”

“
The one looks like a truck
ran all over him.”

“
Knew it was me all along,
didn’t you? Okay, let’s get down to business. If I gave you
something you’d very much like to have, you’d probably insist on
being oh, fair, wouldn’t you?”

“
What’s this wonderful
thing you s’pose I’d like very much?”

“
In a minute. First, if I
generously gave you this something you’d like very much what would
you give me? Out of...fairness?”

“
I’ll give you a sock in
the eye.”

“
Lucinda, it isn’t supposed
to go like this.”

“
How’s it s’posed to go?
Shell—I mean, Mr. Who—why don’t you quit this horsing
around—?”

“
Hell, we haven’t even
started horsing—”

“—
and tell me whatever you
called up to tell me. Or ask, whatever. Take a chance. You like to
live dangerously, don’t you?”

“
Well, yeah, I guess, but
we haven’t even started that, eith—”

“
I’m gonna hang
up.”

“
Hold it—somewhere around
here, I’ve got a cat that knows you. Kitten.”

“
Cat...kit...PRECIOUS?”

I pulled the phone away
from my ear and wiggled a finger in my ear. Lucinda was still
shrieking loud with something that sounded like
PRECIOUSPRESIOUS.

After a while I said,
“Please don’t yell any more. Yes, Precious, the one that goes maaa.
Hold it—don’t say it. In other words, I knew if I just said, ‘Hi,
this is Shell, and I’ve rescued your dumb cat,’ well, you’d say
something like ‘Shell, you’re wonderful, just wonderful’—but it
wouldn’t mean anything. So, I...hello?”

After a while I said,
“Well, say something.”

“
You told me to shut up.
You forget already?”

“
I didn’t,
either.”

“
You forgot already. What
are you doing with Precious?”

“
Well, I just fed her to
the dog. How does that grab you?”

Silence. Then a funny
sound. Laughter?

After a few shorts and a
little whoop or two, Lucinda said almost gaily, “Oh, you men,
you’re all so dumb.”

“
Dumb? Dumb?”

“
And you don’t have to
explain, about not mentioning Precious and all that. I
understand.”

“
How the hell could you
understand, you’re a woman.”

“
Now you’re talking. Shell,
let’s start over.”

“
Start what
over?”