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From: writerzblocked@aol.com (Writerzblocked)
Subject: {ASSM} Harry Long, Psychic Detective 6 (mc)
Date: Wed, 20 Jun 2001 18:10:04 -0400
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Copyright by Writerzblocked, 2001.  All rights, well, you know. Repost and
archive to your heart's content, just don't charge anyone for it or I'll have
to send Harry after you. You all know the rest of the drill by now.  I'm not
big on headers and/or labels, so anyone reposting may feel free to add whatever
MF, MM, FF stuff they think is necessary.  


***************************

CHAPTER 6



"Harry?!"
"Mr. Long?"

I remember sitting up in bed and blinking twice, then staring down at the floor
by my bed.   Regional Director Knox was collecting the four knives off the
floor, where I had apparently dropped them.    She looked none too please that
the evidence was compromised...  But somehow the scowl suited her, it was one
she wore well.  As she was bending down, her vest bent limply and her blouse
collar opened a bit around her ample cleavage.  Why I fixated on that at that
particular moment, with everything else going on, I don't know, but it was
something I wasn't comfortable with and I quickly looked up.

"Does this kind of thing happen often?"  Hector was asking no one in
particular.
"Never seen it before, but then I've never actually been around when he's
actually handled objects to get a reading," Nancy answered.  "But somehow I
doubt it."  She reached for a rag, which she proceeded to rinse in the sink.

I remember thinking out loud.  "Why is she doing that?"  And then I remembered.
 All of it.  Nancy. Hector.  Knox. The vision.  Delgado.  The laughter.  Too
loud, that laughter.  It shouldn't have been that loud.  This was not good. 
But what to do?

She brought the rag and placed it on my forehead.  It was cold.

I'd heard that laughter before, long ago.  Very familiar.  Not good. Not good
at all.  Got to think.  Need time to think.

I looked down at the robe clinging to my body. I was all wet.  "Why am I wet? 
Did someone give me a bath?"

Hector eyed me strangely.  "You don't remember?  You had a vision.  Must have
been a strange one.  Lasted five minutes."

Nancy moved the rag down my neck. It felt good.  Too good.  Couldn't think with
that cold rag there, getting further and further down. I grabbed her hand and
gently grabbed the rag from her hand.  "I can do that myself. Don't need
another bath."

Nancy relented, but kept her eyes glued to mine.  "No one gave you a bath, old
man. You had a vision.  That's your own sweat you feel."

"Sweat," I repeated, and continued to wipe the rag around my neck.  "I need to
bathe, then.  Need to be alone to bathe."

Knox started for the button by the bedside.  "I'll call the nurse for you."

I grabbed her hand roughly.  "No nurses!  I can do it myself.  Everyone out!" 
I'm not exactly the physical specimen I once was and she was pretty strong for
a woman in her '50s.  She didn't budge.  

Our eyes met.  She was strong, this one.  Green eyes.  Steely strong green
eyes. Very pretty green eyes. No ring on her hand, the job must be tough on the
love life.  One push and...

...but no.  It was tough now, and somehow I knew it wasn't going to get any
easier...  But I had to think of Nancy.  But those eyes certainly were pretty.

Damned meds.  

"Harry!"  Nancy shouted, and I turned my head towards her.  Hector jumped to
grab my arm, but Knox didn't need the help.  She bent my wrist back slightly,
but firmly, then let go.  

"Please, no nurses." I pleaded softly, grabbing my wrist back.  It didn't hurt
- much.  I savored the physical pain for a moment.  Sometimes I amaze myself -
even ten years ago, things would have gone much differently had I felt this
kind of pain...

Nancy moved to me and sat on the side of the bed.  "Harry, what the hell
happened to you?  I knew we should've waited..."

I shook my head.  "No.  I feel better now. Just lost it for a moment.  I
haven't had a vision that strong in quite a while. Forgot how it felt."

Ever the detective, she was.  "What did you see?"  Not "How do you feel?" or
"Do you want to rest and have us come back later?"

"What did you see?"

I sighed.  Three detectives, six sets of eyes and ears.  Only one of me. 
Pretty bad odds and I'm no gambler.  Still, they didn't need to know
everything.  They couldn't know everything.  Not yet.

I turned to Knox and those pretty green eyes.  "You said there was only one
body?"

"Yes, the Archbishop.  The scene was pretty cleaned up when we got there.  Are
you saying someone else was killed?"
"Yes, a nun named Sister Catherine.  And maybe someone named Jeremy as well..."

Nancy had a pad out and was scribbling madly.  Hector was still looking at me
rather oddly.  I didn't like the look of that.  "Are you saying the Church is
actually still covering up one, maybe two murders?"

I shrugged my shoulders nonchalantly.  "I'm just telling you what I saw.  Your
four suspects murdered two people, maybe three, though if this Jeremy died, it
wasn't by these weapons."  

"So, you're saying you actually saw the four nuns murder Delgado and this
nun?," Knox asked.
"Yeah. In the same bed at about the same time.  Surely the blood on the weapons
has been tested."
"The local forensics team only found Delgado's blood on the knives.  Of course,
the weapons could have been cleaned up before being left at the murder scene,
just as just about everything else was."
"You also might try looking for a couple of purple and gold sashes that were at
the scene."
"There was nothing in the reports about any being found."
"Nonetheless, they'll have blood evidence on them also.  Along with the sheets
and just about everything else in proximity to the bed.  It was pretty messy."
"How exactly did they overpower him? The local authorities assumed he was
killed in his sleep, though at least one medical examiner thinks he was
conscious at the time."
"uh...I couldn't exactly tell."

Nancy stopped scribbling. Hector gave me that look again.  Six eyes, six ears. 


"C'mon, old man.  Nancy smiled unconvincingly. 

"No, really.  It's not like I'm watching a movie with Dolby sound..." I lied. 
I could still hear Sister Catherine in her throes of passion. Hell, I could
still SMELL her.  The latter two were so damned strong in my brain, especially
unnerving.  The blood, the dying cries, and I fixated on the other.  Ugly.  And
frightening.  Those buried memories again...

"OK," Knox interjected, though I could tell neither Nancy nor Hector were
completely satisfied.  "Let's move to the nun, this Sister Catherine.  You said
she was killed in the same bed at the same time.  That's pretty hard to
swallow, don't you think?  It's not like nuns and Archbishops go around
sleeping together..."

The moment she said it, I knew all three minds were thinking the same thing. 
"I mean, that's not what you're suggesting, are you?"

I fidgeted in the bed uncomfortably.  More memories.  "I really don't know. I
came in just before the actual murder..."  I lied again. I used to be so good
at it, but I'm out of practice.  Much easier to type your lies online than it
is to do it sitting in front of three trained professionals. 

Hector threw his eyes to the ceiling and grimaced.  "Oh, c'mon, that's just too
sick to even think about."

Knox shook her head and moved in front of the other two.  "OK, I can see this
isn't going anywhere profitable.  What I want you to do is start at the very
beginning of the vision.  Tell us exactly what you saw in the order that you
saw it."  She nodded at Nancy, who turned over another leaf in her notebook.  

I put both hands to my head and tried to concentrate.  Knox was right, this
wasn't going anywhere profitable. But I needed time to think.  Time to tell
them what they wanted to hear, without telling them what they needed to hear. 
Probably said too much already.  

But the laughter was louder now. And the sounds of smells of Catherine.  Not
even a nun anymore, just a woman in heat. Made it terribly difficult to think. 

Needed to get away from those eyes and ears to concentrate on what to do next. 
I reached for my box of meds.  "I've got a horrible headache.  Which one of
these do I take for a headache again?" I asked in Nancy's general direction.

"Plain old aspirin, so far as I know," she said.  Hector still held that
suspicious gaze on me.  He was good at the sensing emotions, this one.  A good
man.  I hate lying to good men.  Knox was taking several deep breaths and
staring at her briefcase. 

Nancy reached for the nurse call button.  

Then, unexpectedly, the older woman brushed Nancy off and shook her head.  "Why
don't you and Agent Garza take the evidence, go outside, find the nurse and
come back with some aspirin.  I want a few moments alone with Mr. Long."

"When you come back, wait with the officers outside. I'll be out shortly."  It
was obviously a command in the form of a suggestion.  Both Nancy and Hector
eyed her strangely, but they were good soldiers.  Hector grabbed the repackaged
knives and Nancy followed him from the room.  

As she reached for her briefcase, I tried my best to stare at the ceiling,
wall, anything but the woman in the room.  But as she leafed through the papers
inside, her voice dragged me back to those green eyes.  Never noticed much
about her voice before now.  It was nice and soft, but firm as a ruler.
Reminded me a lot of Mother Superior back in 5th grade.  

Or was it Sister Catherine...

"OK, Mr. Long, it's obvious to me that there are things about this case that
make you uncomfortable.  It's also obvious to me that you've seen a lot more
than you're willing to tell us."

I grasped at the sheets and tried to ignore both the voice and that insidious
laughter.  The voice was louder, but the laughter was slowly rising to match
it.  Not good.  Both competing, but both compelling.  And the memory of those
green eyes...

Knox pulled some papers from her briefcase, and I tried to focus on them.  But
the voice and laughter continued, unabated, and I silently pleaded with her not
to raise the papers any higher...

"It's also seems obvious to me that, despite your reluctance to admit it, you
feel there is a...sexual aspect to this case."

There was that word, the last word I needed to hear at this particular time,
especially from that voice.  And ever the laughter grew. It was now so loud
that it began to drown the voice.  No. Not drown it.  MERGE with it.  

She leafed through the papers, bringing them up to her breasts to better see
them.   "I've researched your file, or at least as much as was left after your
superiors got through with...with the magic markers."

My file?  My memories.  The damned memories.  The voice and laughter were
slowly bringing them back to me. Ugly things, those memories.  Not beautiful,
like her breasts. They heaved now, heavily, as she fought to get the words out.
 Why would she fight to speak?  Her voice was beautiful.  

Like Sister Catherine's...

"What I found was...not pretty."

Very pretty, those breasts.  

"They couldn't...erase the...convictions..."

Convictions?  Susan?  Was that her name?  Lovely breasts, she had.  Like this
one, only smaller.  I think they were smaller.  Reading the papers with her
right hand left her other free to loosen her vest.  Yes, I think they were
smaller, but I'm not quite sure... 

"...I'm not comfortable at all..."

Now the top button.  Yes, Susan was smaller, I think.  But lovely all the same.

"...having you anywhere near..."

Bending over to see the papers in a better light...  Yes, this one is
definitely larger.  And she wears a bra.  Not at all like Susan. 

"...a case..."

Samantha?  She had larger breasts, I think.  One more button...

"...with such inappropriate..."

No, this one is larger than Samantha too.

"...subjects..."

Sister Catherine?  No.  Not a memory, that one.   But this one...

"...so I am going to insist..."

...this one has very pretty breasts, very large pretty breasts...

"...that Agent Grummond..."

Nancy?

"...drive you back to Houston as soon as you're able to leave the hospital..."

NANCY?  Oh, God, no.   

Knox was leaning over my bed, her right hand holding five or six papers in
front of her face, her blouse unbuttoned halfway down and her vest hanging open
half a foot in front of my face.  She seemed to be waiting for a reply of some
sort.

I raised my head above the papers and stared into those steely green eyes with
the look of one who had just come back from hell.  "Please leave me alone. I've
got an awful headache."  No lie this time.

"Very well," she said, lowering the papers with her right hand and rebuttoning
her blouse with the other. "I'll send Agent Grummond in with the aspirin then."

She bent down and put the papers back in her briefcase as she refastened her
vest jacket.  "But remember what I told you.  "We'll have to make do with the
information we have.  I appreciate your help, but I want you back in Houston as
soon as possible."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.  And I thought seriously about it.  That laughter was
strong, maybe too strong.  

But, no, doing nothing wouldn't make it go away.  I'd have to track it down and
kill it.  Assuming I could find it, of course.  

"Just make sure you do," she turned and gave a half smile before opening the
door.  

And those green eyes again.  Pretty, steely, green eyes.  How damned lucky -
for both of us - her breasts were prettier.



"Write what you want, how you want, and don't worry about the rest of the
world.  If you do it long enough, eventually they'll catch up."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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