Chapter 111 – Autumn’s Fury – Part 3


    KLEMPNER


    When I wake again, Mitch isn’t there. But her perfume hangs in the air.


    In my peripheral vision, something stirs but when I try to follow the movement, my head won’t turn.


    Fuck…


    Sliding my eyes sidelong, I see the figure leaning against the door frame: tall, casual, Scandinavian


    silver-blond. “Hi, Larry. Thought I’d drop by to see how you’re doing?”


    “Let’s see, my neck in a cor, one leg up in a cast and that infernal fucking bleeping... How d’you think


    I’m doing?”


    “But I see they’ve not amputated your charm.”


    Ambling into the room, he snags the chart from the bottom of my bed, then traces a line down the


    length of the paper as he reads, muttering to himself.


    He clips the chart back to the bed footer. “All I can say, Larry, is you’re built from something tougher


    than mortal flesh. How’s the headache?”


    “Um… now that I think on it, better than it was.”


    “Any nausea?”


    “There was, but it’s gone now.”


    “Hungry?”


    “No, I… Ah… Yes, I am.”


    “I’ll get something sent in for you.” He pulls up a seat and sits, straddling it, arms crossed over the


    chair-back. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know.”


    “Tell me something I don''t know.”


    “I’d like to hear why you decided to engage in hand-to-handbat with a car? Not that I don’t apud


    your motives, but in a human versus internalbustion engine fight, the vehicle usually wins.”


    “I was chasing the Surgeon. He ran. I followed.”


    “Yeah…” He droops forward, head hanging. “I still can’t believe that I missed it.” Disgust drips from his


    voice. “There I was, dealing with the aftermath of what that bastard put on my b, and he was there


    the whole time, sniggering over my fucking shoulder while he admired his handiwork.”


    “I wanted to ask you about that. Do you mind talking about it?”


    Borje jolts upright. “Not at all. You spotted the sick shit out in the City, while I missed him right under my


    nose. What d’you want to know?”


    I try to turn to face him more easily, then immediately regret it. Borje Tuts, then stands, dragging his


    chair with him. “I’ll move to the end of the bed, then you can see me without having to strain.”


    “Thank you. That’s much better… Listen, Borje, Harkness was, as you say, right under your nose.


    Granted it’s with twenty-twenty hindsight, but do you think you actually missed anything? Or did he


    really hide all his signals?”


    Borje grimaces, palming the back of his neck…


    “…Everyone I’ve encountered who met him as ‘Pat’ described him the same way. Completely


    nondescript to look at, but he gave off bad vibes. Everyone backed away from him. I saw it happen


    more than once when I was following him.”


    “… You knew him as ‘Ricky’. In retrospect, do you think you missed anything that now you’re thinking


    about it, you might have picked up?”


    “Believe me, I’ve been asking myself the same question.”


    Borje falls into silence, staring into space, opens his mouth to speak, then snaps closed again as a


    nurse bustles in. “How are we now, Mr Waterman? Would you like a cup of tea?”


    “By cup, you mean one of those bottles designed for a three-year-old?”


    She nts me a look. “Don’t be grumpy, Mr Waterman. When you’re capable of holding a cup and


    saucer again, I’ll be happy to bring it in to you. Do you want the tea or not?”


    “Yes, I want the tea.”


    “Well, that’s all you needed to say. Doctor Anderssen?”


    “Thanks, Jean. Yes, I’d love a cup. And can you bring Larry here something to eat. Nothing too taxing


    on a delicate stomach.”


    “Of course.” She smiles brightly, ducks her head and bustles off again.


    As the door closes behind her, Borje speaks again. “Yes, in retrospect, I did miss some signs.


    Although, in my own defence, I don’t think I’d have made anything of it at the time even if I’d noticed.”


    “What signs?”


    “Mainly that he did more ‘morgue duty’ than most. As you would imagine, it’s not popr work among


    the orderlies. Medics at any level have to maintain some emotional detachment or else we couldn’t do


    the work, but dealing with the dead goes with the job description. All else being equal, I should have


    seen no more of Harkness than any other orderly. In practice, I saw a good deal of him.”


    “How many orderlies are there in the hospital?”


    He blows out his cheeks. “Ah… Offhand, I couldn’t say. Around the wards, typically two per corridor.


    Over the hospital as a whole, that adds up.”


    “I can imagine. But you saw more of Harkness than most?”


    “Yes. Definitely. Again, it’s in retrospect. I’d never thought about it. But…” He pauses… “I’ll check my


    records. When a body is delivered to the morgue, or removed again, it’s logged. There’s a chain of


    custody. I can probably put numbers to the degree of his unhealthy interest in corpses.”


    He trails off again as the nurse returns, this time with a tray. A cup and saucer steam alongside a


    stic bottle with a flexible stic tube. She sets the bottle beside me, wrapping my fingers around the


    tube, then pauses, fists on hips. “You needn’t look at me like that, Mr Waterman. Either you want the


    tea or you don’t.”


    Swallowing my pride, I suck from the tube. “I do. Thank you, Nurse.”


    Borje follows her out with his eyes, again not speaking until the door closes behind her. But his lips


    twitch. “I wouldn’t get too upset about it. Jean there has a policy of deliberately mollycoddling the


    injured until they get well again in sheer self-defence. If she’s baiting you like that, she thinks you’re on


    the mend.”


    *****


    A figure fills the doorframe; Stanton, a box tucked under one arm. “Good morning, Mr Waterman.”


    “Commissioner. Forgive me if I don’t get up.”


    Snagging a seat, he drops his bulk onto it, setting the box down on the end of my bed. He sits back in


    the seat, hands folded. “How are you now?”


    “Bored rigid. And I’ll be happy to get rid of this fucking cor.”


    “Yes, the nurse told me you’re getting fractious.”


    I ignore that. “Can I assume from the crashing silence that Harkness hasn’t been found?”


    “You can.” Stanton purses his lips. Looks down. “No, he’s not been found. There''s a standing


    instruction on the street to all officers to watch for him. We keep a watch on security footage from


    wherever we can find it, and his face is stered on billboards the City over.”


    “No leads at all?”


    He huffs, raising spread hands. “Quite the opposite. Hundreds of damn leads. Half the City reported a


    sighting in the first few days. So far, none of them so far havee to anything.”


    I eye the box. “I’m guessing that doesn’t contain grapes?”


    “No.” He leans forward, unfolding the hands, refolding to arms. “You bored enough to feel like doing


    some work?”


    Christ, yes…


    But I let the words out at a drawl… “What kind of work?”


    This belongs to N?velDrama.Org - ?.


    “Current reports and, now we know the identity of our killer, we’ve been dragging files out from the


    archives. I thought you might be interested enough to read through...” He reaches into the box, pulling


    out a file, apparently at random. “…Perhaps build some insight as to where we might look for him.” He


    riffles the file, as though tempting me.


    “I might at that. Give me the J and John version of what you have so far. You say there are archive


    files? That suggests you know Harkness’ background.”


    “We do. It’s not a good story.”


    “Are you going to tell me his mother was a beautiful long-haired hooker with a heroin habit? And


    Harkness was abused by a series of ‘uncles’?”


    Stanton huffs. “That’s not it, but you’re thinking along the right lines.” He blows out his cheeks. “In fact,


    it was almost the exact opposite.”


    “Go on.”


    “Patrick Harkness was one of two children. There was a sister, Sophie. Unlike her brother, Sophie was


    unusually attractive, taking after her mother, Penelope. But Sophie vanished when she was fifteen


    years old. Patrick was seventeen at the time.”


    “Vanished? Just like that?”


    “Not quite. ording to school records, Sophie would regrly arrive with odd injuries…”


    “Just the sister?”


    “Just the sister. The mother would always brush them aside as idents of one kind or another…


    “... iming she''d walked into a door or fallen down the stairs..."


    “Exactly. And the social services could never make anything stick.”


    “Is it suggested the mother was behind these injuries? What about the father?”


    “There was no father as such, not in the long-term sense. Just a long line of ‘fathers’ by all ounts.”


    “The mother was a hooker?”


    Stanton tugs at an ear. “Not exactly. But there was a series of men who woulde, stay a short while


    then, vanish from her life. Over time, Penelope Harkness had four husbands plus a series of live-in


    partners. She was an attractive woman. Her partners were typically well-off, earning above the


    average: awyer, a car salesman - his own business - a realtor, it goes on. But whenever a


    rtionship broke up, she always came out of it well. Although having no apparent source of ie,


    she lived, and lives still, in a green and leafy suburb in a very pleasant house.”


    “What makes the mother so interesting?”


    “ording to everything investigators found, Penelope Harkness was narcissistic and controlling. She


    doted on the boy. Would hear no wrong of him. If reports were made of his bad behaviour, she


    dismissed them. Sophie however, she criticised at every turn, despite the girl being popr with her


    schoolmates, earning excellent grades and excelling at sports. The mother belittled and undermined


    the girl at every opportunity. It was suggested that, her daughter being something of a beauty, the


    mother saw her aspetition…”


    “Whereas Patrick Harkness is mediocre in every way…”


    “… and nopetition to anyone. Correct. The boy was considered…” Stanton lifts fingers in air


    herself. There were also suggestions that Patrick had more than a fraternal interest in his sister.”


    “I get your drift. Is it also suggested that the mother might have beenplicit in the daughter’s


    disappearance?”


    Stanton rocks a hand back and forth. “Nothing proven. And Sophie wasn’t the only disappearance.


    Over several years, a variety of local pets vanished; dogs, cats, rabbits. Some were spirited away from


    yards and cages when the owners were quite convinced the animal was secure. The rumours grew, but


    again, nothing was ever proved. Some neighbours moved away from the area, including an aunt,


    Penelope’s sister, with her daughter. When Sophie went missing, neither mother nor brother seemed


    unduly disturbed. Patrick maintained that she had run away to be with some boyfriend. The mother


    backed him up. And since no remains were ever found…”


    “And Sophie Harkness, I’m guessing, was healthy, athletic and long-haired?”


    “Give that man a cookie.”