Day 6: Challenge

Challenge #3


Incorporate elements of detective fiction and speculative fiction where the protagonist is a Byronic hero.

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It wasn’t that bodies never went missing, it was just damn inconvenient when they did. Crowley popped another handful of aspirin and glowered at the blank form sitting in his typewriter. Like he needed another Missing Corpse case weighing down his load. Even the brown-nosers never managed to close those. Plus it meant another trip down to interview that pale, creepy fuck of a coroner.

          That was the whole problem, if you asked him. Too many damn foreigners coming in with their weird customs and unpronounceable names. Of course, you couldn’t say that within earshot of anyone in the head office if you wanted to keep your pension. The company line was that the influx of foreign refugees was good, meant to boost the economy or some bullshit like that, but the only boost Crowley had seen was the stack of unsolved cases piling on his desk.

          What he needed was a drink.

          And then a few more after that.

         

Crowley shifted his bulk in the narrow metal folding chair placed in what served as the coroner’s office but probably started life as a broom closet. Dented filing cabinets took up most of the space, and the only light was a single, low-watt bulb in the ceiling that had been dimmed even further with a swath of fabric. Music – or what he guessed was supposed to pass for music – drifted through the walls from the exam room. To Crowley it just sounded like that garbled New Age hippie shit they played down at Crystal Earth.

          He squinted at his notebook and tried to turn the jumble of consonants that supposedly made up the coroner’s name into something pronounceable.

          ‘Sorry about that.’ The coroner glided into the room and squeezed past Crowley to perch on the only other chair in the room.

          Crowley got a strong whiff of that scent. He could never place exactly what it was, just that it was dry and sweet and familiar, and stayed lodged in the back of his throat for hours afterward.

          ‘My assistant forgot to turn the stereo on.’ He folded his hands in his lap and smiled a smile that wasn’t exactly a smile. ‘We’ve found it relaxes them.’

          ‘Your assistants?’

          ‘The dead. Personally, I prefer a little Chopin, myself, but to each his own. What can I do for you, Detective?’

          ‘Look, Mr. –’

          ‘Just call me Çyn.’ He gave Crowley that… Whatever it was. It looked more like his mouth didn’t have the faintest association with what a cheerful expression ought to be. ‘It’ll be easier on both of us.’

          ‘I’m here about that body you managed to misplace this afternoon.’

          ‘Oh?’ Çyn frowned slightly. That expression his face seemed to have no problem with. ‘Oh, you must mean Miss Landry. Lovely girl. Very gregarious. I have to admit several of the boys were a little broken-hearted to learn she’d gone.’

          ‘Ah… Right.’ Crowley wasn’t sure if Çyn meant his assistants or the other corpses, and wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either. ‘It just so happens I wasn’t done investigating her murder so I’d like to track her down, if you don’t mind.’

          ‘Oh, dear. That does create a problem, doesn’t it?’ Çyn tapped the hollow of his cheek slowly. ‘I’ll do everything I can to help you, of course, Detective. The problem is most of our clientele don’t really leave their contact information with us when they go.’

          Crowley felt the headache returning around his temples. ‘Just tell me when the body went missing.’

          ‘Let’s see… She came in this morning with Mr. Jenkins and Mrs. Talloway, so that would have been around nine or so. After that, we had quite a little rush – that traffic accident downtown, you know – so I’m afraid she was left to her own devices for most of the day. I think it wasn’t until four that James noticed she’d decided to leave. Tell me, Detective, you’re sure she’s actually missing?’

          Deep breaths, old man. ‘What do you mean, she decided to leave?’

          ‘We can’t just keep them here like prisoners, Detective. They haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not their fault they’re dead. Most of them, anyway.’ A look of concern suddenly came over Çyn’s features.  ‘You don’t think someone’s hurt her, do you?’

          ‘Do I think someone hurt the girl who was murdered last night?’ Crowley repeated. ‘No, I think that ship’s sailed.’

          ‘Oh, good. That’s a relief. I wouldn’t worry too much about it. I’m sure she’ll find her way back here when she’s ready. She probably just stepped out for a bit of air.’

          ‘The dead girl stepped out for air.’ 

          ‘Oh, yes. It’s actually very important for them to get their exercise. The joints have a tendency to seize up after death and they get horribly stiff if they aren’t stretched regularly.’

          ‘So you just have corpses wandering in and out of here whenever they please?’

          ‘We prefer if they let us know first. It prevents confusion.’

          Crowley thought of the stack of Missing Corpse cases on his desk dating back years. It couldn’t be that simple. ‘I suppose you expect me to believe they just walk out on their own?’

          ‘How else would they do it?’

          A tray clattered to the floor outside the office, followed by several repeated thumps.

          ‘Oh, dear. You’ll excuse me a moment.’ Çyn glided out of the room just as he’d come in. ‘Oh, you poor thing. Come here, darling, let me help you.’ A moment later, he reappeared in the doorway, propping up a young girl with blood-matted hair and empty eye sockets. ‘Speak of the devil, Detective, look who we have here. I told you she just popped out for a minute.’