Timely Meeting

Bannon had a headache. The two visitors displayed no emotion and the woman in custody never raised her head. “You’re telling me that Miss Blanck-whatever, is the granddaughter of Doestal and came back in time to give her grandmother what she always wanted… to be a great novelist?”

“Yes,” the taller man replied. The woman nodded. “She used to belong to our group and gone rogue for personal gain.”

“You three should be locked up.” Bannon stood up. “If you’re ‘time-cops,’ why didn’t you come back earlier and stop her?”

“Because we didn’t have a precise time until you called for backup last night. I’m sorry for your partner.”

“But you can go back and stop it!”

“Impossible. It has to do with a divergence of world lines…”

“Now you’re getting all Steins;Gate on me? Next you’ll be talking about John Titor and his time machine.” The two agents flinched slightly. “Next up - Morlocks!”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the shorter man finally spoke.

“And the cube?”

‘Tallman’ replied, “In her time, organs for transplants are quite valuable. She found successful authors from class lists of her grandmother, came here, then transferred the heart into the cube to return it to her time. If she failed to send back a heart, her sponsors were, rather are, or in your case will be, quite persuasive in their means.”

Bannon's head throbbed. “Why didn’t the cube work on me?”

“You aren’t an author. I mean you weren’t on the authors list.” Tallman stood, “It’s time for us to go.”

“No, you’re not…” Bannon reached for his pistol but was frozen. “Not again!”

Tallman placed Bannon’s pistol on the table. “This ability to be aware during time-freeze is rare and to answer another question, your hair-tingly happens when a time portal gateway is opened. This makes you… unique.” Bannon was released.

“Yeah, it’s called Reading Steiner,” Bannon joked.

“Ah, I like you, Bannon. We’ll be seeing you. Soon.”

“And don’t call us ‘time-cops’!” the short man called back as the agents and prisoner stepped into a black slit in the room that disappeared as if a zipper closed.

Bannon’s only consolation was his newfound knowledge of annoying people in multiple centuries.

 

Posted to Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #8: Resolutions 

Part One: The Dead Need No Words

Part Two: Partners

Part Three: Zen Detective

Part Four: Connections

Part Five: The Usual Suspects

Part Six: Larceny of the Heart 

Part Seven: Interviews

Interviews

Detective Bannon sat in silence as the author, Amy Doestal, told her story. Her tearful interview wasn’t really a confession but more of an explanation of the past few years since first meeting her assistant, now fugitive-cop-killer. 

M Blanck came up to Doestal after a class, introduced herself, and asked the author if she would agree to a proposition: Blanck would ghost-write Doestal’s next novel and assist with promotion, publishing, correspondence, and any other duties to make the novel a success. The first manuscript was handed over in that meeting. Doestal agreed with Blanck after reading the manuscript which was submitted to Watts & Company and became a huge success. The newest manuscript was given to the author a couple weeks ago.

Doestal denied any involvement with the murders and did not know Blanck until after the New Mexico murder. Bannon thought she was sincere but the DA was charging her with accessory to murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and a few other felonious crimes that Bannon didn’t care about. He wanted Blanck.

Bannon sat at his desk, alone in thoughts. He already detailed to the captain how he found Blanck over Junior’s body and he knew everyone now thought him crazy. How could a black cube remove a heart? Being frozen in time so he couldn’t help his partner? Why didn’t the cube remove his own heart? Maybe he didn’t have a heart… People told him that, especially his ex-wife as he drifted in memory to her words long ago, “You heartless son of a…”

“Bannon?” The clerk jarred the detective back to the cacophony of the department. “You’re wanted in room four. Two guys, look like Feds, want to talk to you.”

Feds. They had all the resources at their disposal and rarely used them to help out a local department. “Why would they care about Oldtown, anyway?”

Bannon hesitated at the door. “Something wasn’t right,” he thought but opened the door anyway.

“Detective Bannon,” the taller man said. “Let me introduce you to Michelle Blankenship.”

“Well, thank you for bringing Ms. Blanck back to me,” Bannon replied. “These guys can’t be Feds,” he thought as he shut the door behind himself.

 

Posted to Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #7: Dear 2021…

Part One: The Dead Need No Words

Part Two: Partners

Part Three: Zen Detective

Part Four: Connections

Part Five: The Usual Suspects

Part Six: Larceny of the Heart 

 

Larceny of the heart

“Here’s what we got, Cap’n,” Bannon began, “The assistant gave us access to the appointment book and Doestal was at the capitol on the day of the first victim, hosted a party during the second victim and was teaching a class during the New Mexico murder years ago. Everything confirmed.

“I had Junior chat up the assistant while I interviewed Doestal. Doestal seemed genuine to me. Certainly, no surgical skills to remove a heart. I don’t think she’s bright enough to do this, Cap’n.”

Junior added, “Blanck, the assistant, was elusive when I asked about her past and her relationship with Doestal.”

“Something was off about her, Cap’n,” Bannon said. “I asked for a tracker, if you’ll okay that. Doestal may be involved, maybe not, but I think Blanck is running it.”

“Done,” the captain replied. “You better be right this time.”

The detectives left the office as the captain ordered the tracker. The rest of the day was spent digging into the past of the assistant. They weren’t finding answers.

End-of-shift, Junior went home and Bannon stopped for a quick dinner. In the middle of his third bite, he got the notice that the trackers lost Blanck. He wasn’t far from Junior’s apartment and rushed over to pick him up. As Bannon reached the building, he noticed the out-of-place car.

It was Blanck’s.

Calling for backup, he pulled his pistol and rushed to Junior’s apartment, breaking the door to enter. There was Blanck on her knees next to Junior’s prone body, holding a black cube to his chest.

“Freeze, B...” Bannon never finished his command. He stood frozen with his pistol pointed into the room.

A blue light flashed between the cube and Junior. Satisfied, Blanck calmly walked to Bannon to place the cube on his chest. She pulled the trigger but nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. In a panic, she fled the apartment and Bannon collapsed to the floor and crawled to Junior but he knew.

“Mike, why didn’t you…” Junior would never hear Bannon speak his name.

Bannon’s rushed out of the apartment. Blanck’s car was there as she disappeared down the dimly lit street.

Those neck hairs were standing again.

Posted to Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #6: The shorter the sweeter?

Part One: The Dead Need No Words

Part Two: Partners

Part Three: Zen Detective

Part Four: Connections

Part Five: The Usual Suspects

 

 

The Usual Suspects

“What d’ya got?” The captain was unusually surly this morning. Junior had pulled an all-nighter trying to keep up with Bannon who hadn’t rested in days. They were digging into the author, Doestal, and others crossing her path over the past several years.

“Amy Doestal,” Bannon started, “the author, fifty-two, lives in Hilldale for almost three years. Previously lived in ‘The Towers’ until her first book was published. That’s quite a jump in living conditions, there... Junior?”

“She’d been an instructor in creative writing classes for continuing-education at the university. Wasn’t a professor on staff so none of her classes earned credit. Colleagues say she seemed happy but became frustrated with her own writing career, then suddenly quit as soon as she got the contract with the publisher, Watts.”

“Donnie from the Feds…” Bannon brought up an email and read: “Watts repeatedly rejected her submissions until a nearly perfect manuscript three years ago.”

“How many rejections?” the captain asked.

“Almost forty. That perfect manuscript was submitted after the New Mexico death. She submitted her latest manuscript two days after our first victim here in Oldtown. Donnie reports they went ga-ga over it.”

The captain thought for a moment, “Your theory is she killed our victims for their books?”

“That’s where we’re heading,” replied Bannon to the skeptical captain. “She’s in a mediocre job trying to write the next great novel, living in a low-end apartment, and a boat-load of debt. Suddenly, after dozens of attempts, she hands in a perfect novel and hits it big. Then lightning strikes again a few weeks ago – could happen – if someone is a great writer. Maybe lightning struck the third time and she’s hanging onto it for a safe amount of time.”

“Also interesting is that she also found a new agent/publicist/assistant about the same time as the first novel,” Junior said. “An M Blanck. We can’t find anything on her prior to that time.”

Arrangements were made to meet with Doestal the next day. This was the only suspect that made sense, Bannon thought, and he could rest a little after his shift was done.

“But, how did she steal the hearts?” interrupted his sleep that night.

 Linked to Poets and Storytellers United: Friday Writings #5: A Second(ary) Look

Part One: The Dead Need No Words

Part Two: Partners

Part Three: Zen Detective

Part Four: Connections