Chapter seven

I sat in the same booth I occupied the previous day. Some of the regulars at the counter had kept their same seats; an unspoken agreement between them. The waitress was in the same position, but with a new magazine. It was as if they were reliving the same day in their own little bubble. Every day at The Coffee Spot was Groundhog Day. I looked up from my coffee as Detective Stiles sat across from me.

"What did you make of Munro?" She asked me.

"I've seen enough of his type." I answered dismissively. I felt unclean from my encounter with him. "I understand there was a witness in the building opposite." The waitress was filling Stiles' coffee as I spoke. She thanked her and took a sip before she answered. The smell of her freshly poured coffee filled my nostrils and cleansed my senses like a warm breeze.

"Katherine Johnson." She looked up as she pulled the name from her memory. "Lives in an apartment building across the road. Just happened to be looking out the window at the right time and saw the whole thing." She sounded like she didn't believe it.

"Bad timing for her to look out her window and see something like that." I said, not quite believing it myself. Coincidences happen, sure. But there was something a little too convenient about this one. "Do you have any more on her?" I asked. Stiles frowned and leaned forward. She pushed the handle of the cup in a circle.

"Not much. Enough to say she's a real person, but I was told to stop looking too closely at her. She had given her statement, and I should leave it at that." I asked Stiles for Katherine Johnson's address, then drove home to see that my front door had been fixed.

My super had been looking after me pretty well ever since I helped him a few months ago. His daughter had fallen in love with a bad person and disappeared. I found her, helped her break free from him after she realised that he wasn't the lovable rogue she thought he was, and the relationship between father and daughter had never been stronger. I tidied up the mess from the break-in and took the broken furniture away. After, I sat with a drink and smoked. After a while, I called Eddie Russell.

"Sergeant Russell." He answered.

"Hi Eddie, it's Jack." I drained the rest of the whiskey in the glass and refilled it.

"Hiya Jack. What's up?"

"Did you get anywhere with the fingerprints from my apartment?" I asked him

"After excluding yours, we had fresh prints from one person. Didn't get any matches, though. They're not in the system. Witnesses saw a black male, approximately 6.2"

"Tattoo on his forehead?"

"Couldn't say. He was wearing a baseball cap." I thanked him and we both said goodbye.

I found Katherine Johnson's condominium on the corner of 13th and O street. It was a big, white stone building surrounded by trees and parks. I stood outside the main entrance and looked across the road. I couldn't tell much from the ground level, but unless she had a telescope, it would've been difficult to see the senator's building from here. I walked in and headed to the elevator. The hallways were painted in neutral colours with photos of landscapes spaced far apart on the walls. My footsteps echoed loudly as I walked, and the air smelled faintly of sandalwood. Out of the elevator, I turned right and found the witness's apartment. I knocked and waited. There was a television playing on the other side of the door and it went silent after my knock. A few seconds later the door opened slightly. The chain prevented the door from opening any further. Maybe it was a rougher neighbourhood than it looked. Or maybe she was worried about something. I smiled my friendliest smile and introduced myself while handing her one of my cards.

"What do you want?" She asked. Her eyes were wide. A cigarette burned between her fingers. The golden ember close enough that she must've felt it, if her mind wasn't distracted. She had bags under nervous, squinted eyes that kept darting left and right.

"I was hoping to speak to you about what you witnessed. The terrible accident." I tried to sound calm and unthreatening.

"I already spoke to the police." She spoke too quickly and tried to close the door, but I had my foot in the way.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. I'm working for a third party. I'm trying to get a sense of the geography. Do you mind if I come in and ask you a few questions?" She didn't want me to, I could see it in her eyes. But at the same time, she didn't want me to suspect anything about her. The conflict played out on her face like a one woman show, and I had a front row seat. Eventually she sighed and closed the door. I heard the chain moving and the door opened again, this time all the way and she stepped aside to let me enter.

"Do you want coffee?" She avoided my gaze as she walked through to the kitchen and started making coffee before I had a chance to answer. I said yes to the coffee anyway. Sometimes accepting a drink helps to ease the tension. I followed her into the kitchen. She had a minimalistic home. There were no paintings on the walls, just black and white photos of buildings. There weren't many signs that anyone lived here at all. It gave the impression of a show home, and she was the estate agent showing me around.

"I can't imagine what you went through." I said as she had her back to me, preparing the coffee. "It's an awful thing to see. How are you coping? Did the police offer you any counselling?" I tried my best to sound concerned.

"It was very traumatic for me. I've had to live through it again and again for the police. I don't want to have to go through it anymore. I'm trying to put it behind me." She was using the right words, but they didn't sound right when she spoke them. She sounded like she had memorised a script. An actor playing a role that they just couldn't connect with. I thanked her for the coffee and stepped into the living room. I heard her follow behind, shuffling her feet on the floor as she went. I walked straight over to the balcony and looked out at the view.

"Beautiful." I said with a smile. "A view like that is worth the price tag." I stepped closer. The trees danced in the wind. I squinted my eyes to see the building across the road. "Is that the building, over there?" I asked her. She was making me carry the conversation, reluctant to contribute. But I didn't mind.

"Yes, that's it." She replied nervously.

"You must have really good eyes." I turned to her and smiled.

"I think you should go." She said suddenly. "I'm expecting company." I doubted she was. She was reaching desperately for an excuse after deciding that she had made a mistake inviting me in. I decided I had seen enough and thanked her again for the coffee I hadn't touched before heading out the door. I turned around to wish her a good day, but the door was already closed.

As I walked to my car I looked ahead and saw a figure leaning against a streetlamp. His hands were in his pockets, and he was staring at the ground. His clothes were bland and unremarkable. If a person was to try really hard not to be noticed, this is how he would dress. As I walked past him, I saw the alley and realised too late I was stood between them. In the alley were another two men, similarly dressed.

"Buddy, you got a light?" The leaning man asked. As he did so, the other two started to move in. I looked around at them and considered my chances.

"Do you really need one?" I asked him back. I knew what was coming and I was trying to stall until I had a plan.

"Not really." He answered. They moved quickly and surrounded me. I couldn't keep more than two of them in my field of vision and I couldn't back away without needing to get past at least one of them. The blow came from behind. Something hit my head, and I fell forward. I stepped into the fall and lunged at the man in front with all I had. There was no point turning to the attacker behind me, as I would be left vulnerable no matter which way I was facing. The best I could hope for was to make sure at least one of them regretted waking up that morning. My right fist connected with his jaw, while my left hand took hold of his shirt collar. Another blow from behind brought me to my knees. I could feel the pain, but my adrenaline kept me going. I reached out with my left hand and grabbed the back of the leaner's knee and used all my weight to push him over. Once he was down, I rained as many blows down on his face as I could before I was stopped. I felt a boot connect with my kidney and I fell off him, onto my side. Another boot, or maybe the same one, was brought down on my face. I rolled onto my back and lay there. I took a few more kicks before they'd had enough.

"You were told to walk away." The leaner said, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Next time, walking won't be an option." They left and I lay there a little while longer. When I found the strength, I stood up and found my car. I sat down in the driver's seat and lit a cigarette. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes for a moment. When I felt ready, I drove home with the windows down, feeling the cool breeze. When I got to my apartment, I dropped a couple of aspirin and splashed some water on my face. The man staring back in the bathroom mirror wasn't me. He was a stranger. His face was bruised and bloodied and swollen. I didn't like him. I told him as much before going to bed.

The next morning, I was in my office going through my routine. I opened the window, and a fly landed on my desk. It could've been a different one, but I liked to think that my old friend had come back. I called the Greys and asked them to come by when possible so I can update them on my progress. I then started making calls and leaving messages, sending emails, to see if I could get in the same room as Senator McGowan. Chances are, he wouldn't want to see me. I don't take it personally, it's amazing how many people don't want to talk to me. I sat down in my chair and drank my coffee. I started thinking about the glove, the Kara Kesh. Once again, I had the feeling Dr Longmore knew more than he was letting on.

Mr Grey sat across from me. He had accepted the coffee and a cigarette this time. He apologised for his wife not being with him. She was unwell. Has been ever since they received that visit that no parent ever wants to receive. When it comes, it imbues you with a psychic power. Somehow you know even before they speak, almost as if you hear the words before they're spoken. I suspected that, had his wife been here, he wouldn't have accepted the cigarette.

"I have made some progress since we last spoke." I told him. He looked at my bruised face.

"I'm sorry I got you involved, Mr Pearson." He seemed to genuinely mean it.

"Please don't be sorry, Mr Grey. The occasional beating seems to come with the job, lately. And you were right to suspect something. There's no way the witness was able to see what she says she saw. Also, the police were told to sit on the investigation. The best we can hope for is to cast doubt on the cause of death and put some pressure on them to reopen the case. I'm happy to carry on if you are." My client agreed to continue with the investigation, and I promised to update him regularly. The only motive I could find for Charlotte Grey's murder was that Michael Munro was making waves, and she was the weak link. If Munro was right, Senator McGowan had a reason to kill her. But also, whether he was right or not, she may have felt trapped. She may have seen suicide as her only way out.

I was walking the nature trail at Rock Creek Park. I couldn't get Dr Livingstone's words out of my head. Longmore's case had taken a sharp left turn, and I didn't know where I was. I didn't feel that I could come to him with talk of aliens. I had the photos, but didn't yet understand what they meant. I wanted to know who Dr Longmore really was, what wasn't he telling me? Who were these tattoo brothers are? why were they all so desperate to get their hands on this Kara Kesh. I got in my car and drove to see my client. It was time to get some answers.

The sky was clear blue with a few clouds in the distance. I didn't admire the trees and open green parks this time. I drove on autopilot, trying to make sense of everything. Dr Longmore hired Charles McKenzie to retrieve an ancient Egyptian glove that he claimed was stolen by his friend and colleague, Dr Randolph Haynes. McKenzie had found it. Something spooked him and he hid the glove before someone got to him. Haynes was dead, and it was likely me who lead the killer right to him. A two-man team was turning the city upside down looking for this glove as well. It was likely they killed McKenzie and Haynes, along with Haynes' girlfriend who was just unlucky to have been involved with the wrong man. Longmore had all but confirmed that the glove wasn't his. He knew enough to know where to send a team of scientists; He knew the glove would be there. Was whatever spooked McKenzie the same thing that Livingstone had discovered?

Dr Longmore was growing impatient with the detective's lack of progress. A lot of things had changed over the years. He assured himself that this was perfectly natural; change was the only true constant. His wife had grown distant. Yet it was his lack of concern that interested him the most. Despite her affairs, he could never take his mind off the mysteries of Ancient Egypt. It was perplexing that he couldn't understand from where exactly this interest had come, nor could he understand where this intuition came from that caused him to send archaeologists to exactly the right place to make these discoveries. Whenever he tried to think about precisely when his new interest began, his mind started to wonder, almost as if the thought itself possessed some sort of defence mechanism that kept him from looking too deeply. It was around the same time the headaches started. He would take the strongest painkillers available over the counter. Something in his subconscious stopped him from seeing a doctor. They would do tests, possibly scan his brain in search of answers. He didn't want that. Although he didn't know why. There it was again. His mind didn't want anyone looking too deeply. That same thing that stopped him from looking inwards, stopped him from seeing the connection. The headaches started when the whispers did and the whispers told him of Ancient Egypt, of power and of secrets untold. They seemed to come to him in dreams, but he knew that couldn't really be it. Perhaps his subconscious picked up on them from the many books he had been reading. Yes, that had to be it. As for the voice that spoke these secrets, maybe he was simply losing his mind. Dr Longmore allowed himself a chortle as he sat on his couch, sinking into it comfortably. He was wearing his housecoat and had a small revolver in one of the pockets. This was another strange development. He had never been interested in guns; he never had any need for them. The idea of owning a gun was something else that came to him seemingly through his subconscious, possibly in his dreams. No matter how much he tried to relax, the feeling of the gun next to him made it impossible. With the help of a small brandy, Philip Longmore closed his eyes and was able to find some rest.

Longmore didn't think he had fallen asleep, but he was suddenly startled into alertness. The sound of footsteps could be heard outside the room. It was probably his wife. He couldn't remember if he'd sent Eric on another errand; he had kept him busy recently. Something inside him sensed a presence entering the room and his gun was in his hand. He didn't remember reaching for it. It was as though he was no longer in control. Was it instinct causing him to act without thinking? No, that wasn't it. The man who now stood at the other side of the room was somehow familiar. However, he had never seen him before. The intruder was big. His skin was a dark brown, Umber with undertones of bronze. On his forehead was some sort of tribal tattoo. He both recognised this man and didn't. As if there were two sets of memories in his mind. He wanted to run, but he couldn't move. He raised the gun and fired. He tried not to, but his body was no longer his. The intruder was struck by a bullet, but it didn't slow him down. The intruder had a staff in his hands and was levelling it at Longmore. Longmore squeezed the trigger once more but was struck by a bolt of light. He fell back onto the couch. The intruder, having completed his mission, turned and left the way he had come in.

Upstairs, Mrs Longmore was on the phone to her lover. Her heart was racing with anticipation. Something that hadn't happened to her with her husband in a long time. She smiled as her lover made promises and suggestions that made her blush. He was a few years younger and always knew just what to say. He was informing Mrs Longmore of his plans for her later when a loud noise from downstairs made her leap out of her chair. Suddenly filled with panic and fear, she ran to the upstairs landing but lacked the courage to venture any further. Without another word, she hung up the phone and dialled 911. Another loud sound, and a third. She thought for a moment her husband had dropped something, or maybe it was a car backfiring. No, she knew what it was. She knew what a gunshot sounded like. She had finally built up the courage to run down the stairs and find out what had happened. Her husband lay lifeless on the couch. A dam burst somewhere inside her, and all the feelings and memories came flooding back. Here was the man she married, the man she loved. Whatever happened between them in recent years was now a distant memory. She ran to him and held his head in her lap. A sudden cough startled her and filled her with a newfound hope. He was still alive! His eyes, now open, looked up at her in wonder. She stroked his face and smiled down on him, trying to reassure him. Her husband looked like he wanted to say something. He opened his mouth, but instead, a howl that sounded almost feral came from deep within. A snakelike creature emerged from Longmore's mouth. His wife jumped back but it was too late. It lunged up and into her mouth as she tried to scream. Dr Longmore shuddered with convulsions and was gone. Mrs Longmore stood, staring down at her dead husband with curious eyes. She knew the police would be here soon. She knew a lot of things she never knew before. She knew why her husband had become distant. She knew who killed him, but how? She had never his killer. She had a newfound purpose that she didn't understand. She tried to move but couldn't. Her body was no longer responding to her. Perhaps this was how it felt to be in shock. Yes, that was it. She just needed time.