Fathom by Mikel Parry

CH-UNFINISHED BUSINESS

Demo had been waiting for hours. He hated that he was sitting in the last place he wanted to be on a day like today. But necessity had a way of forcing you into this kind of things. He glanced at his phone assuring himself that he was in the right place. To his dismay, he was. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps adding another cold body to the tally wasn’t such a bad thing. After all, many would probably applaud him in his endeavor; he wasn’t the first to want this man dead. But the idea of murder brought an onslaught of harrowing guilt. The guilt he perceived from his own past. A past where his failure had led to murder. He still had this lingering guilt that had attached itself to his heart forever. He carried demons that could either drive him, or destroy him, depending on how it all played out.

He looked back at his phone. Jacky had called a few times. She had probably left essay long messages, with most of the details buried in visceral vulgarities. He didn’t have time for her to distract him. He was onto something and needed to chase it before it was too late. The only itching matter that just wouldn’t go away was Bobby. Why hadn’t he called? Just as Demo’s will to wait was about to break, the polished glisten and gloss of an expensive sports car caught him just inside his blind spot. He let out a long sigh of relief, mingled with frustration. This man was completely unbearable. Off went the motor that purred like a tiger and out came Mars with a slam of the door.

“You’d better not be lying about this,” Mars said as he approached, forgetting any cordial greetings. “I just don’t do favors.”

Demo nodded. He needed to make sure this would work. He knew that Mars would take the bait. Without saying anything, Demo looked up at the large golden gate he was standing by. It was beautifully detailed with angels and clouds riding up to a starry heaven. Opulence, grandeur, and enough pretentious decoration to make his head spin; this was an area as foreign to him as a good night’s sleep. Although just the other side of the city, it looked as if he’d need a passport to get through this. Mars, however, was right at home, dressed to impress as always. It didn’t matter what the occasion, he was a prince in his own mind.

“I’ve never really been this way before,” said Demo suddenly.

“Not surprising,” Mars replied casually as he stopped next to Demo.

“They actually kill the roaches out here instead of letting them breed.”

Demo’s body instinctively tightened, but quickly relaxed again—he had expected this—he’d just have to endure the Mars effect.

“I hate to repeat myself but my doubts in this are high. You honestly have something solid that’s telling you that my life is in danger? I mean, you’ve got me spooked, I’ll admit, but you better have something to back it up.”

Demo snapped back at him surprisingly fast.

“Look, this hasn’t exactly been a joy ride, okay? I’ve seen a lot of things I wish I never had. But in my head it’s adding up. And believe me; if I didn’t think it was real enough, I wouldn’t have called you. You need to know what I’ve got.”

Mars frowned. He fiercely wanted to debate the topic of who needed who but refrained from doing so. His self-preserving ambitions would take precedence for the time being. Demo would be stepping on eggshells to survive his time with this pompous devil.

“Of course I want to know. Who wouldn’t? If I’m a part of this sick freak’s motive to kill then I’d better know every detail. I’m not going to get jerked around, and you’d better not be wasting my very valuable time,” Mars grunted.

“You leave that part to me. We’ll know soon enough. I just needed you to be here.”

Mars smiled like a snake. Something about Demo taking his own tactics had delightfully excited him.

“You smug little rat. Should have known better, knowing where you come from.”

Demo let the comment glance off his Mars proof armor.

“What took so long? I’ve been here for hours. Why did you even bother giving me a time?” asked Demo harshly.

Mars shrugged his shoulders haphazardly.

“Men like me don’t give a time that matters to those who don’t. I’m here now. Besides, do you know how hard it is to break away from my laundry list of commitments? Every lawyer in this city is constantly trying to get in my good graces. The only reason I’m in, is because of the little murder scheme you swear I’m a part of,” Mars said, adjusting a pearly white button on his elaborate sports jacket.

“The only scheme was bringing you in. The rest is factual.”

Mars rolled his eyes.

“Facts don’t matter in things like this, Demo. This is politics. And where exactly are we anyways? If I’m not mistaken, this is Jude Ridding’s apartment building.”

Demo managed a mischievous smile.

“Oh, no, no way . . . I’m not going to be seen with you here. This guy has published more books than I can count. He’s an icon in the law scene, and I don’t want him to see me with the amateur Sherlock.”

Demo’s smile faded. Mars’s was insufferable. His selfish banter never seemed to end.

“Just do it. If I’m right, both your lives could be in danger. I’m looking for connections to the dots hanging around. If this involves you, it could also involve him,” said Demo sternly, exhibiting his growing annoyance.

“Fine, have it your way this time—it better be worth it—if you embarrass me I’ll make sure you never make it into another courtroom again.”

Mars reluctantly pressed an electronic call button before being promptly answered by a sweet, older woman’s voice.

“Who is it?”

Mars cleared his throat, wafted his hair back, and assumed his pompous demeanor once again. Demo was surprised at how fast Mars could slip back and forth between such pomp and circumstance to well-groomed mobster.

“Mars Baloducci,ma’am. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by and see Judge Ridding.”

There was a pause, then a loud crack as the solid gate came loose, swinging slightly open.

“Come on in, he could use the company. Please shut the gate behind you if you’d be so kind. I’ll let him know you’re on your way up.”

Mars smiled, showing his insanely white teeth. Demo couldn’t believe that Jacky actually had someone who rivaled her unblemished, porcelain diamonds. Mars reacted quickly, swinging the gate open and pointing inside.

“Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Demo obliged by stepping through the gate to an inner courtyard. It was amazing what walls could hide. From the outside the building had looked like nothing more than a lifeless mausoleum harboring the rich from any wayward passerby of lesser economic means. But beyond the golden gate was a little slice of city heaven. Plants, fountains, and pristinely decorated effigies sprang up at every corner. Little granite benches dotted the space to help those overwhelmed victims of such lavish excessiveness take a break from it all and recover. Demo shook his head slowly. With so much suffering on the streets it just seemed wrong to him.

I wonder what the rent on this place is . . .

Mars, however, obviously didn’t agree. A certain gleam in his eye exhibited a man who was stepping into his own personal idea of paradise. Judge Ridding was far more important than Demo had realized. Suddenly he was regretting his decision to plead his case before this audience, just to end up in what most likely would be a den of rapacious vipers. Once past the outside garden area, they arrived at the front of the building. Here they were met by the staff. The doors opened without command, and once they stepped inside the true decadence of the palace continued. There must have been enough granite to start a quarry, with some to spare. Golden trim raced along the walls like vines from a jungle. Demo was completely lost.

“What floor, sir?” asked a well-suited staff member.

Demo paused, not knowing what to say. The atmosphere was drowning him alive.

“Forgive my friend—he’s new in town—we’ll be taking the lift to Judge Ridding’s suite, please.”

The man nodded, keeping an eye on Demo at all times. It was apparent that he stuck out like the black sheep that he was.

As they stepped into the elevator, Demo began rehearsing the poorly put together story in his head. He knew it was a long shot, but it was all he had and time was now of the essence. Watching Mr. Ridding’s practiced employee push the button for the suite floor, he took a deep breath. This could work; after all the judge and Mars could potentially be in serious danger. The only real lie he had to propagate was his underlying motive to inspect every individual with scrutiny. Anyone could be guilty at this point.

Mars had not known any of the details but how could he? He wasn’t the one digging in the trenches for evidence. He only used what was found. Mars had a way of pulling diamonds from the filth. Demo had to be very abstruse in his descriptions of most of what he knew, but he had hit heavy on the details he knew Mars and the judge would want. The blood legacy murders were becoming a legendary saga of good versus evil; anyone who could be involved in the case would instantly be thrown into the books of history. If the recent murders were indeed part of it then Mars and the judge would be only another chapter.

Demo endured countless barrages of incredulous comments and remarks that Mars could not resist throwing his way. His ego needed to take this chance, no matter how idiotic the prospect. So despite their disdain for each other, they had teamed up. Demo needed Mars and the judge to help make a connection, and Mars and the judge needed Demo to solidify their place in the ongoing investigation. At least this is how it seemed to Demo. It was no doubt a long stretch to assume that either of these two men of prominence would actually heed his warnings. But if he could gain anything from his visit that would help him in assuming the right role, he had to take the chance; even if his plan looked primed to fail.

The elevator door dinged, and the doors slowly opened, only to be met by more doors. Doors, doors and more doors, this is how the wealthy and powerful live, thought Demo upon seeing yet another testament to decorative grandiosity.

“Just let me do the introductions. The last thing I need is for you to stick your thrift store shoes in your mouth.”

Demo smiled. In a way, Mars was incorrigibly predictable. His flare was superfluous and boring. But it seemed to work, in a career where first impressions could land you massive deals.

“Man likes his privacy,” said Demo, smiling.

Mars pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He appeared to be stretching his face muscles. What a clown, Demo thought. Mars knocked on the door nervously. This surprised Demo. Mars intimidated by another living, breathing human? This would be a show to remember. The door opened slowly to reveal the revered judge’s warm face.

“Mars Baloducci—it’s good to see you—come on in,” said the judge.

“I can’t tell you how much this means to be in your beautiful home, Judge Ridding. I was in the neighborhood and just couldn’t resist stopping by,” schmoozed Mars.

“And you,” the judge said, looking at Demo, “I don’t believe we’ve ever met. What might your name be?”

Demo froze. He was nonchalantly letting his eyes wander around the room, sucking in information as they went. It was hard for him to turn the detective off.

“I’m Demotreus Ward. I live just on the other side of town.”

Demo briefly looked the judge over; an older man, perhaps in his late forties or early fifties. He had a stern yet welcoming look to him. He was wearing a wool sweater from an earlier year. It had some Greek letters on it, no doubt from an old fraternal order of some sort. Remnants of the past, Demo thought. The judge’s face was covered with a well-groomed beard that attached to a nice thick wavy mess of curly hair. The hair was slicked back behind his head and firmly fixed in place. Demo was becoming more and more self-conscious. The judge smiled before putting out his hand.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Demitrius . . . or, how do you say it correctly?”

Demo shook his head.

“Don’t bother, just call me Demo. Pretty much everyone I know does.”

The judge’s smile faded slightly.

“I see. Well, Demo, you can call me Lyle, Lyle Ridding. I’ve seen much of your work pass through the courthouse, but sadly haven’t seen much of you.”

Demo shrugged his shoulders.

“Not really my scene. I prefer to be in open space.”

It was clear that Lyle’s renouncement of titles bothered Mars who thrived on animosity between ranks. He needed to say something.

“He’s sort of a detective. And I must apologize that he’s placed me in a rather awkward position. I must also confess that it’s part of the reason I decided to stop by,” Mars said gingerly.

Demo cringed. Mars was lying. He had no idea that Demo was bringing him to Lyle’s suite. Demo had spent all the time tracking it down—Mars had merely shown up—but his lies were as smooth as silk.

Lyle’s eyes remained on Demo. It was as if he were trying to pick him apart right on the spot. But with a smile, he returned to playing the gracious host.

“Well, come inside, come inside. Let’s get to know each other better. The fall season has really started to pick up, hasn’t it?”

Mars gave the judge a chummy smile that was so utterly fake a mannequin would have been offended.

“But it’s nice and toasty in here. Is that floor ebony? It looks amazing.”

Lyle smiled. Running one of his hands through his hair he responded.

“It’s Macassar ebony, actually. You’ve got a good eye for indulgent detail, Mr. Baloducci.”

Mars’s fabricated smile grew even larger.

“Only details that divulge mutual passions . . .”

“Can I get you boys anything to drink?” Lyle asked as he stepped away from the duo.

Demo immediately put up a hand.

“I don’t at least not anymore. Just a glass of water would be fi—”

Mars plopped out his order without letting Demo finish his.

“I’ll take a brandy on ice if you’ve got it.”

Lyle smiled as he ushered them toward a luxurious looking couch.

“A man after my own heart.

Please, take a seat, and I’ll go fetch you boys some drinks. Make yourself at home.”

Demo thought the words to be mildly hilarious. Home, he thought. This place is no more a home than a museum. His mind meandered around the room, trying to take it all in. It was like siphoning glue through a straw. The thick layers of items placed in nitpicky order showed signs of a very well organized person. Each item had its place, every knickknack, every piece of furniture. Pictures of family, vacations, and summer homes joined the fray, making an appearance behind expertly blended mood lighting. How do these people even have lives? Demo thought, lingering on what appeared to be a jewel encrusted chessboard where the game was one move away from a well thought out checkmate. The only outspoken detail seemed to be the absence of a father or mother in any picture frame. But at Lyle’s age it was dismissible, as there’s only so much space on a wall, after all. Demo continued on while Mars relished the moment like a boy finally getting to see inside his dad’s secret clubhouse.

“What a place, right? Of course to you it might as well be the Taj Mahal since you have no real sense of discernible taste. With all the scum rising up in this town, I’ll get the big ticket that’s waiting for me, no doubt. The Baloducci suite has a nice ring to it.”

Demo endured Mars’s self-indulgent banter until Lyle reappeared with the drinks they had ordered. Mars put his placating mask back on in record speed.

“Thank you so much, sir. It really is an honor sharing a drink with you.”

Lyle smiled at Mars before serving Demo his water; at least what Lyle considered water. Demo’s mouth dropped slightly open when he looked into the glass; it was filled with not only water but leaves, lemon, and a slab of cucumber. He had no idea what to do with it. I asked for water, not a vegetable and fruit orgy. Demo smiled and brought the cup to his mouth to take a sip. Good night! That’s the best water I’ve ever had. Demo quickly downed the glass, forgetting all etiquette with a loud slurp. Mars looked repulsed as he gingerly sipped on his own liquid concoction.

“Mmmm . . . is that Mendis coconut I taste?” asked Mars, breaking the awkward moment.

Lyle smiled politely.

“You really do have a nose for these things, Mr. Baloducci.”

“Please call me Mars. I insist. All my friends do.”

Suddenly Lyle’s smile faded to a frown.

“Let’s talk about less pleasant topics now. Your presence here seems quite alarming, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

Mars practically vomited out his liquid gold at such a drastic and sudden turn in their otherwise phony conversation. But he recovered quickly. Placing the glass down carefully onto an elaborate coaster, he responded.

“Well, to be honest, it’s the reason why I’ve brought Demo with me. He’s the guy taking this thing apart. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time.”

Lyle sat down slowly. He, too, had conjured up some liquid majesty from somewhere and was now sipping at it steadily. He nodded his head as if agreeing, and placed one of his legs over the other to assume a more relaxed pose.

“I’m more than happy to hear it then. I assumed that Mr. Ward’s presence here was far more than mere happenstance.”

Demo felt the empty weight of the glass in his hand—he regretted drinking it so fast—when would he ever get another glass of water like this one? His brain sparked into action to give the answer he had rehearsed so poorly with Mars.

“I believe that the recent murders . . .” he began.

Lyle injected his own curiosity into the mix.

“Murders? Plural? More than one? I’ve only heard of the courthouse murder, which could still be a suicide, mind you. You’re proposing a serious idea, Demotreus.”

Demo paused in his thought process, shocked that Lyle had pronounced his name properly. He must have a very acute attention to detail that extends far beyond his lavish collectables, he decided.

“My apologies, it wasn’t meant to come out that way. I’m still a little flustered from it all. It’s just come really fast and all at once. Trying to say the right words can be challenging.”

Lyle’s eyes seemed to recede slightly into his head. But Demo continued.

“It’s really just by chance that I’m even involved in this mess, but I firmly believe that what I found has a direct connection to you both; that is, you and Mars.”

This comment shook Lyle out of his comfortable posture. He was now sitting on the edge of his seat.

“I was there, at the courthouse, by accident when the murder or suicide happened; really. I got a front and center view of the man before he passed on.”

Demo paused and looked down at the shimmering bottom of his empty glass. He was omitting so many things, but all that mattered is what Lyle needed to hear. Demo’s world was a million shades of grey. If explaining it to Mars over the phone had been difficult, the task at hand seemed even more daunting.

“But what bothered me the most is the way he died. As I’m sure you’re aware, he blindfolded himself before collapsing on the steps. I’m sure he was poisoned, which we’ll soon know for sure. But what bothers me is why?”

Lyle’s appeared slightly flustered as Demo continued.

“All that trouble to drag him there just to die on the court steps. It was symbolic; more than just a suicide. This man wanted to be seen. He wanted the world to know something.”

Demo paused, whirling his glass around in small circles before coming to a stop.

“I believe he was sending a message. And one of you might be the next victim.”

Lyle calmly sat back and let what Demo just said sink in.

“So . . . you’re telling me that this was no straightforward suicide or murder? Do you have any evidence of this? Pardon me for saying so, but that mostly sounds like conjecture.”

Demo pushed the argument back, using his most recent find.

“I found tracks down at the harbor. I was going to hail a taxi after I’d been at the original scene of interest, but I had a wild hunch and followed it down to the docks. I saw a particular dock that seemed perfect for what I was looking for, and sure enough I found tire tracks leading to the river. I believe there’s more than one person involved.”

Demo was captivated by his ability to rehearse such a story with so much conviction. Lyle, however, wasn’t as impressed.

“So that’s what this is all about? You’re worried that there’s another killer on the loose who’s coming after us? Mr. Ward, I’m sorry but that sounds beyond ludicrous.”

Mars sat there dumbstruck. It appeared that something had just clicked in his head.

“You, Mars, or anyone else this individual deems worthy of the cause. That’s why I had to get to you first. There’s no telling how deep this goes,” Demo stated, still resolute on the matter.

Lyle took another sip of his liquid courage. He was piecing things together as he went. His ice cubes clanged against their crystalline hold when he suddenly jutted forward.

“Mr. Ward, I appreciate the concern, I do, but you have to see the conflict of interest here. I’m a judge. I can’t have my potential trials being convoluted with hearsay. From what I’ve gathered you don’t have any solid evidence. Those tracks at the dock could have been from anybody. And I certainly don’t think that the authorities on this case would revel in knowing you’re currently withholding potential evidence. Even more uncertain is the legality of you nosing around on this case. These are some serious claims.”

Demo made his move.

“I saw what I saw and my rationale seems sound enough. I’d strongly advise taking some major precautions as it would be in both of your interests to do so. And I’ve told the proper authorities about the tracks, but they aren’t seeing what I’m seeing. They’re swamped by all that’s happened lately, and don’t see how any of this could possibly effect you both. But I beg to differ. The more I step into this, the more I’m realizing that every angle, no matter how absurd, must be looked at. You were both symbols in what would have been a very important case. Be you symbols of justice or symbols for corruption, I don’t know, but symbols nonetheless. It’s been my experience that you only toy with the real victims for so long before finally ending the show. I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least warn you both. And I wanted you both here just in case something connected you two. It could be anything; from a ruling gone bad to the wrong guy going down. Whatever it is, I think you should examine those possibilities just to make sure.”

Mars took a gulping swig of his drink.

“With all due respect, I have never had a single one of my clients even whisper Judge Ridding’s name in a negative light. I keep an extremely professional atmosphere that is well guarded and safe for all parties and interests.”

Lyle remained silent. It was apparent that he was scanning through his mind, looking for anything that would connect him to Mars or the recent events. Demo appreciated his silence. It meant that this hadn’t all been for nothing. As Lyle continued, Demo watched intently assessing his every reaction.

“Look, Mr. Ward, this is highly inappropriate. And to be honest, I’m just not finding any connection. In fact, all I’ve really seen here today is a bunch of scare tactics. I’ve sat on countless murder cases and have never had a problem. It’s not my place to bend the rules, only to enforce them. I’m sure I would have noticed if I saw any hint that I was tied to any of this. I just don’t think Mars and I share anything that would merit such heinous acts.”

Mars furrowed his brow angrily.

“Sir, I do apologize. Had I known Mr. Ward would take it this far, I never would have agreed to any of this. I certainly hope this isn’t some ill attempt to panhandle us into a business proposition, Mr. Ward; you being a sort of detective and all. Using scare tactics such as this to do so would be most shameful.”

Demo watched Mars closely. He wanted to see the sliver of doubt that could point to a possible connection that Mars desperately didn’t want to talk about. With the same interest, he glanced at Lyle. Both men appeared steadfast in their confidence. Demo appeared to be up against a wall.

“Look, I apologize. I just started putting things together and the feeling was too much to shake. I wanted to make sure you both knew, just in case I’m on to something. I’m sorry for my methods. I know they must seem strange.”

Lyle shook his head carefully.

“Fine. I’ll be cautious and look into anyone I may or may not have deeply offended. If I come up with anything I’ll be sure to let the proper authorities know.”

Mars looked content enough with the response. Demo’s face told a different story. Ditching his effort at speaking in abstract ideas, he made a bold statement.

“I believe that man had a connection with the blood legacy murders. This thing could go back decades.”

Lyle’s eyes faded. His demeanor shifted to one of serious introspection. But the comment was dismissed and a forced smile returned.

“I’ll be the judge of that, no pun intended. Now if you please, I’d like for you boys to leave. This was a lot to take in and I’m going to need some time. But I really do appreciate your concern, Mr. Ward. And I appreciate you bringing Mr. Baloducci with you. I wish you the best in your ongoing work.”

Mars nodded and headed for the door after laying a thick layer of accolades in Lyle’s lap. It was clear that Demo’s comment had upset Mars greatly. He didn’t want to hear that the cases could be linked. A connection like that could leave a soulless lawyer like him dead in a gutter. How many guilty men had he let walk free? This was a serious conflict of interest. Mars’s eyes snapped onto Demo, signaling to him that it was time to go. Demo, however, had one last thing to say.

“Checkmate.”

Lyle’s complexion went blank. He was completely caught off guard and his posture tensed.

“Checkmate—on the board over there. Looks like some seriously unfinished business, but the game is really already over.”

Lyle smiled. Demo’s comment seemed to amuse him, if only marginally.

“Mr. Ward, in my line of work you learn that there’s always another move.”

Demo contemplated the comment with a slight bit of interest, but threw it aside for the moment when something else suddenly hit him.

“Thanks again for the water and letting us into your home. I know you’re a very busy man.”

Lyle’s warm face returned, ushering in a spring-like feel to the room to replace the cold, bitter topic of their discussion.

“It’s my pleasure. We’ll have to do it again, Mr. Ward—or Demo, if I may.”

Demo strained out a smile. But in his mind he wasn’t smiling at all. He was realizing something he had clumsily overlooked.

“The blood; it’s always about the blood, isn’t it Bobby?” Demo mumbled carefully outside the hearing of the other two men in the room.

There was something he needed to know but didn’t know how to find out. But he had to try. If he didn’t, his mind would implode and refuse to turn off. He joined Mars and promptly left the Judge’s suite. In the elevator, Mars returned to his usual, charming self.

“I thought you said we were in danger; not that we’re part of an infamous unsolved murder spree. You babble like an idiot and act as if you actually have some hard evidence. I’m trying to listen to a guy who says my life is in danger, but that’s hard to do if I think I’m only getting pseudo facts about a freak show.”

Mars continued with his verbal onslaught all the way outside. But as they walked, Demo’s smile grew wider and wider. He needed to pay a visit to one Kevin Randall. His stomach let out a gaseous moan at the thought of what he needed to do; track down what could have been either a victim or a murderer. Either path could lead to an unwanted ending, but it was the only path that made sense at the moment. As Mars mouthed his final string of tightly sewn threats, Demo called a cab. It came as no surprise that Mars didn’t offer him a ride; he didn’t want that type of ornament to taint his otherwise flawless car. With a screech of rubber against asphalt, Mars left Demo to his own devices, alone and vulnerable.