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Chapter 7
Another death at the Paradoxia Grande. The detective sat at his desk hoping to see it passed on to someone else. Not the Grande. It is an endless source of difficult paperwork. They should shut the place down, anywhere that averages six deaths a year for no reason shouldn’t be staying open. He slammed the file shut. It had already made it to his desk so there was no point in trying to shirk it. He grabbed his coat, a rough textured greyscale parka designed for protection rather than appearance. That was the detective down to a tee. He was the parka, functional and practical in the right conditions but overly complicated and brask in the wrong ones.
Tuesday, it is always Tuesday. The parka pulled up with an impetuous manner. The car, playing to his aura, spun hurriedly into the front space of the Grande. What little rain there was subsided when the parka headed to the door. It revolved, he went with it. Inside. He circumnavigated the inner quadrant of the circular door frame and agitated a quick step through the momentary crevice. He passed the barrier of the door.
“Good day sir” jovial and spritely Galileo gesticulated grandly.
“One of these days I’ll be here to close you down.”
“I know; dreadful business isn’t it. Can’t say I didn’t warn them.”
“Another suicide. They’ve been three this month.”
The detective approached Galileo’s desk. There was a freshly brewed coffee waiting in a pristine china mug with gold laden rims. He drank the coffee. It was a fine and delicate roast, nutty, with a gentle warming tone. Its bitterness had been refined to a rich smooth underlay with caressing waves of freshness and brown.
“Is this store bought?”
“The cheapest sir.” Galileo winked. The detective had a great loathing of things that cost too much to be pragmatic, something he had shared with Galileo through their many meetings and something Galileo dutifully ignored to his own amusement.
“Do you have the tape?”
“Already prepared, the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours.”
“Then I’ll be off.”
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a peach detective?” Galileo proffered the peach that had previously gone unperceived by the detective but now was poignantly pinnacled in the palm of the concierge’s hand.
“Did you seriously just offer me a peach Galileo?”
“It seemed the proper thing to do sir. You see I have an overabundance of peaches for the time being and I’m doing my level best to be rid of them.”
“I’ll live without.”
“As is your prerogative sir.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” The detective did not ask Galileo but merely spoke the words in his peach-palmed presence.
The parka was undonned and stood in front of the revolving door. It had a golden frame, probably gold plated. Wouldn’t make sense to be real gold. The parka swung over a shoulder and rested like a crumpled rucksack.
“One more thing. Galileo.”
“Very iconic sir.”
“Do remember that we have access to these cameras twenty-four seven and are watching you for two hours each day.”
“An effective use of resources sir. Of course without me to know which two hours they are, I will, for the most part, be guarding myself then. Though I am sure by now sir you realise there is little to my life other than kitchens.”
He was not lying. They watched him twenty-four hours a day. This many suicides, even the psychologists are concerned there is an outside influence at play. It was either him or the unthinkable. And no-one wanted to think about that.
Dusting off the shouldered parka the detective headed towards the revolving door. He thought he forgot something. It was probably nothing. The door was stationary. Odd, he thought. It was moving when I came in. He resumed his circumnavigation of the door as it automatically began to rotate when he broached the internal motion sensor. He came in on his right and proceeded to exit to his right. He was then outside in the cold-gray rainless air. It felt like it was going to rain. Bucking the detective, the parka swung first in front and then behind. He was donned then by the parka. The rain never came. He drove back to the station, hot, in the car.
…..................................................................................
“Hello Mr Rose.” Started an ineluctable sound.
“You again. Just leave me alone.”
“Come now Mr Rose, surely we can converse just a little. I do find you quite engaging Mr. Rose.”
“Leave me alone. You heard me. I said leave me alone.” However, the sound persisted despite his negations.
“I’m asking you not to be like this Mr Rose. I would find it most gratifying if you were to share something with me.”
“No. I’ve shut my eyes see! I’m not looking. Just leave me alone.” Blackness.
“Isn’t she beautiful Mr Rose?” …” I’ve spent a lot of time working on her Mr Rose. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me would you? I’d be terribly disappointed Mr Rose.”
“Who are you? Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this? They’ll find you out. I’m not going out like the others. I’m not looking.”
“Just one peek Mr Rose. I’m sure you’ll agree just one little peek wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’m not doing it.” His vision imagined light coming and going under the pressure of his lids.
“She’s waiting Mr Rose.”
“I’m not doing it.” Some ocean rippled in his darkness.
“Please, I’ve been waiting so long to show her to you. I’m sure if you just took one look you’d agree. She is most fascinating Mr Rose. Truly inspired.”
“No. Just leave me. Leave me please.”
“Just one look Mr Rose and I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“No.”
“She’s naked Mr Rose. And very, very beautiful…. Just the littlest look. With one eye perhaps?”
“Please. I don’t want to.”
“That’s the spirit Mr Rose. Just one little look.”
“One and then you’ll leave?”
“It will be like I was never here, Mr Rose.” A final, chainsaw whisper.
Mr Rose clawed his eyes out. And still, he could not unsee her.
Tuesday, it is always Tuesday. The parka pulled up with an impetuous manner. The car, playing to his aura, spun hurriedly into the front space of the Grande. What little rain there was subsided when the parka headed to the door. It revolved, he went with it. Inside. He circumnavigated the inner quadrant of the circular door frame and agitated a quick step through the momentary crevice. He passed the barrier of the door.
“Good day sir” jovial and spritely Galileo gesticulated grandly.
“One of these days I’ll be here to close you down.”
“I know; dreadful business isn’t it. Can’t say I didn’t warn them.”
“Another suicide. They’ve been three this month.”
The detective approached Galileo’s desk. There was a freshly brewed coffee waiting in a pristine china mug with gold laden rims. He drank the coffee. It was a fine and delicate roast, nutty, with a gentle warming tone. Its bitterness had been refined to a rich smooth underlay with caressing waves of freshness and brown.
“Is this store bought?”
“The cheapest sir.” Galileo winked. The detective had a great loathing of things that cost too much to be pragmatic, something he had shared with Galileo through their many meetings and something Galileo dutifully ignored to his own amusement.
“Do you have the tape?”
“Already prepared, the last one-hundred and sixty-eight hours.”
“Then I’ll be off.”
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a peach detective?” Galileo proffered the peach that had previously gone unperceived by the detective but now was poignantly pinnacled in the palm of the concierge’s hand.
“Did you seriously just offer me a peach Galileo?”
“It seemed the proper thing to do sir. You see I have an overabundance of peaches for the time being and I’m doing my level best to be rid of them.”
“I’ll live without.”
“As is your prerogative sir.”
“Do you even hear yourself?” The detective did not ask Galileo but merely spoke the words in his peach-palmed presence.
The parka was undonned and stood in front of the revolving door. It had a golden frame, probably gold plated. Wouldn’t make sense to be real gold. The parka swung over a shoulder and rested like a crumpled rucksack.
“One more thing. Galileo.”
“Very iconic sir.”
“Do remember that we have access to these cameras twenty-four seven and are watching you for two hours each day.”
“An effective use of resources sir. Of course without me to know which two hours they are, I will, for the most part, be guarding myself then. Though I am sure by now sir you realise there is little to my life other than kitchens.”
He was not lying. They watched him twenty-four hours a day. This many suicides, even the psychologists are concerned there is an outside influence at play. It was either him or the unthinkable. And no-one wanted to think about that.
Dusting off the shouldered parka the detective headed towards the revolving door. He thought he forgot something. It was probably nothing. The door was stationary. Odd, he thought. It was moving when I came in. He resumed his circumnavigation of the door as it automatically began to rotate when he broached the internal motion sensor. He came in on his right and proceeded to exit to his right. He was then outside in the cold-gray rainless air. It felt like it was going to rain. Bucking the detective, the parka swung first in front and then behind. He was donned then by the parka. The rain never came. He drove back to the station, hot, in the car.
…..................................................................................
“Hello Mr Rose.” Started an ineluctable sound.
“You again. Just leave me alone.”
“Come now Mr Rose, surely we can converse just a little. I do find you quite engaging Mr. Rose.”
“Leave me alone. You heard me. I said leave me alone.” However, the sound persisted despite his negations.
“I’m asking you not to be like this Mr Rose. I would find it most gratifying if you were to share something with me.”
“No. I’ve shut my eyes see! I’m not looking. Just leave me alone.” Blackness.
“Isn’t she beautiful Mr Rose?” …” I’ve spent a lot of time working on her Mr Rose. You wouldn’t want to disappoint me would you? I’d be terribly disappointed Mr Rose.”
“Who are you? Tell me who you are? Why are you doing this? They’ll find you out. I’m not going out like the others. I’m not looking.”
“Just one peek Mr Rose. I’m sure you’ll agree just one little peek wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’m not doing it.” His vision imagined light coming and going under the pressure of his lids.
“She’s waiting Mr Rose.”
“I’m not doing it.” Some ocean rippled in his darkness.
“Please, I’ve been waiting so long to show her to you. I’m sure if you just took one look you’d agree. She is most fascinating Mr Rose. Truly inspired.”
“No. Just leave me. Leave me please.”
“Just one look Mr Rose and I’m sure you’ll agree.”
“No.”
“She’s naked Mr Rose. And very, very beautiful…. Just the littlest look. With one eye perhaps?”
“Please. I don’t want to.”
“That’s the spirit Mr Rose. Just one little look.”
“One and then you’ll leave?”
“It will be like I was never here, Mr Rose.” A final, chainsaw whisper.
Mr Rose clawed his eyes out. And still, he could not unsee her.