Cybil carried a stack of papers down the hall toward Ashe’s office. He’d left the keys in the mailroom with a note asking her to put any work from his classes on his desk. She jingled the keys trying to find the one that opened the door. His office smelled like Ashe. Although she’d been in his office many times when he wasn’t there, the fact that it retained his scent had slipped her notice. She sat behind his desk and put the papers down, face up so that he would notice them.
Someone knocked on the door. Cybil sat up straight and fumbled to arrange the desk, trying to hide her surprise. She looked up. A uniformed police officer stood there. He held a large brown padded envelope.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Are you Ashley Shrove?” the police office asked.
“No, I’m his work-study, but I can probably help you.”
“I’m supposed to leave this with him.”
Cybil stood and walked to the door. “You can leave it with me. I’ll make sure he gets it.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. I do stuff like this for him all the time. That’s why they hire us, so we can do the dirty work.”
“Are you sure it’s not to give them something to look at?”
“I don’t think they’d pay me for that. I’d probably have to pay them.”
“You’re pretty nice looking. You think you might go out with a cop sometime?”
Cybil looked at him. He was buffer than what she liked but had nice eyes. She didn’t have much interest but figured Marianne’s computer was in that envelope. She wanted to try and find something out about her death. Ashe would be overly appreciative if she could find some clue that might help out.
“There’s a bar downtown called Bayside. Do you know the place?” she asked.
“I’ve had to break up some fights there a time or two. It’s a pretty rough place for someone your size,” he said.
“It like it rough.”
He grinned. She knew that look well. His mind instantly went to sex. All men’s did, and she knew how to use that her advantage.
“Tomorrow night, 8 p.m. One of my favorite bands is playing there, but you’ve got to leave that with me.” She touched the envelope.
“Sounds good.” The police officer handed her the envelope. “I’ll see you then.”
“It’s a date.” The envelope was heavy. Now she was positive it had Marianne’s laptop in it. “What’s your name?”
“Zack McAllister.”
“Cybil. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He tapped the bill of his hat and walked away. Cybil returned to Ashe’s desk. She put the envelope down and tore into it. A pink Dell notebook computer hid inside. A sticky note was stuck to the top. It thanked Ashe for letting them process the computer, but said they found nothing out of the ordinary.
“Let’s see what I can find,” she said aloud as she flipped the top up.
When the desktop pulled up, a picture of Marianne and Ashe smiled at Cybil. A few icons framed the photo, but it showed a happy couple. She felt sorry for Ashe. He seemed to love his fiancée. She even felt a little guilty that she was attracted to him. It would be a rebound for him if anything happened between them, but she figured that might not hurt him too much anyway.
The touch pad was more sensitive than the one she usually used on her own laptop. The arrow cursor soared across the screen. She reined it in and opened up the area for recent files opened. There were several Word documents there including one called guest list. Cybil figured it was a listing for Marianne and Ashe’s planned wedding two years from then. He had told her at the beginning of last semester that he had planned a long engagement. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Next Cybil opened the media player. She remembered being told that Marianne still had her earbuds in when they found her dead. The track listing showed a variety of interesting musical choices. Marianne seemed to be a big fan of chick music. Cybil recognized a few Liz Phair songs along with Joni Mitchell and Carole King. In the folder for lectures, she found several different ones including the one that Ashe told her to have his graduate students listen to. The last folder she checked was recently added. Several Elton John songs were there including “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road”. She was getting ready to close this out when a song title caught her eye. “Pink-Striped Hair” was its name. She knew that song well. It was by the Goth Sox.
“Why would she have this?” Cybil said.
The music of the song started to play over the low-quality speakers of the laptop. She’d heard this song many times. The Goth Sox always opened and closed with it. It was their only hit song, meaning it was only one they had recorded in an actual studio. Something seemed off about the music. It echoed. Cybil stopped playing it.
“Dell speakers really suck,” she said.
She shut the computer down and shoved it back into the torn-up envelope. Maybe she’d ask Ashe about why Marianne would have the Goth Sox on her computer since he’d never heard of them. Surely they knew each other’s musical taste. She’d known all of her boyfriends’ musical tastes. Sometimes that was the reason she’d broken up with them. The deal breaker list always included country, frat rock and party rap.
Her cell phone chirped. She dug it out of her pocket and answered it.
“Cybil, this is Ashe.”
Her heart fluttered. He’d never called her on her cell before. “What’s up?”
“We’ll be back in about an hour. We’re just coming to the delta. Is there anything I need to know about?”
“Not really, I gave out everything you asked for me to. Oh, and the police brought back Marianne’s laptop.”
“Did they find anything?” he asked as his voice digitized some.
“No, but I do have a question.” She heard more digitized talking. “Hello?”
Nothing answered back. She closed her phone and shoved it back into her pocket.
Ashe stood on the sidewalk outside of the D’Iberville Building on Alabama Tech’s campus. The street lamps overhead made Semmes’ cruiser look blue instead of white. The detective leaned out his window.
“You sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he asked.
“I need to catch up on some work. Cybil—my student worker—was supposed to leave some stuff my classes have done. The college isn’t going to keep paying me to do nothing,” Ashe said.
“You’ve only missed a few days due to your fiancée’s death,” Semmes said. “How are you going to get home?”
Ashe shrugged his shoulders. “I’ll catch a ride with someone.” He looked up at the building; a few office lights were on. “My friend, Erik Rogers, is still here. He’ll give me a lift.”
“All right. If you need anything give me a call,” Semmes said. “Oh, and until I get a chance to follow up on this new parading society, don’t tell anyone about what we did up in Birmingham. I don’t want things leaking to the public.”
“No worries. Have a good night.”
Ashe threw up his hand to Semmes and turned to walk into the building. He made his way to the third floor and into Rogers’ office. The psychologist sat with his back to the door. He watched a program run on his computer. A single green line moved up and down at different beats. Ashe watched for a few moments then cleared his throat. Rogers turned around.
“Ashe, I haven’t seen you all day. Where have you been hiding?” he asked while closing out the program.
“Here and there,” Ashe said. “I came by to ask if I could get a ride back to my place when you leave.”
“Sure. What’s the matter with your car? Is it broken down?”
“I’ve been with Detective Semmes, the guy working on Marianne’s case. He dropped me off here so that I could catch up on some work my student assistant was supposed to leave me.”
“How did that turn out up in Birmingham?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ashe said.
“Cybil told me you had to go to Birmingham with that detective.” Rogers scanned him up and down. “You’ll tell your work-study where you’re going but leave your best friend and confidante in the dark.”
“I didn’t realize that we were that close, but they had something similar to what happened with Marianne up there. This woman walked out of the morgue after a doctor used a device on her.”
“Was it the same guy?”
“No, totally different guy.” Ashe leaned against the doorframe. Although he’d been sitting most of the day he felt exhausted. “What is going on with your program?”
“Something strange,” Rogers said. “I’ve been toying with the engrams I’ve recorded so far. I think I might be able to isolate different impulses for more emotions. All these emotions intertwine with each other. Just imagine if we can record people’s feelings and find underlying negative and dangerous emotions like depression or dysphoria before symptoms appear.”
“Sounds like another science award for Dr. Erik Rogers,” Ashe said, glad that his friend changed the subject even if it was to brag.
“For both of us.” Rogers held up the engram device Ashe had built. “Without this thing none of what I’ve been able to do would have been possible. We’ll be the new Crick and Watson.”
“I’m going to walk up the not double helix stairs to my office and get some work done. Come by and get me when you get ready to leave.”
“I’ll buzz you on your cell phone. That way I can save my knees.”
Ashe left Rogers’ office and climbed two more floors to his. Cybil had everything locked up, and the lights were out. He went in and lit up the room. Marianne’s pink laptop lay on his desk. Although it was partially covered by a ripped envelope, he’d recognize it anywhere. It had been a Christmas gift to her a few years ago.
He sat down at his desk. A note was stuck to the top of the computer. Cybil had written: Accepted this from the police. I had to agree to a date so he would leave it. So you owe me. Sorry I opened the envelope, but I thought I might find something that would help figure out what happened with Marianne. Talk to you tomorrow.
Ashe peeled the note off, balled it up and tossed it into the trash can. He felt a little bit angry that she had opened the envelope and probed into his fiancée’s private matters, but she seemed like she wanted to help him deal with all the pain.
The temptation to snoop on the computer was strong, but Ashe found the papers from his undergraduate classes. He started grading. It was just the mind-numbing activity he needed. Marianne left his mind as did Cybil. Nothing of the Heinz woman in Birmingham lingered there until his phone buzzed an hour and a half later with a text message from Rogers. It was time to leave.
“Did my friend ever come by and talk to you?” Rogers asked.
“The priestly shrink? Yeah, he did.” Ashe sipped his drink. He’d decided tonight he’d have a vodka and Coke, which he called a Russian libre.
“Did he help you any?”
“We only talked one time, so no.”
A waitress brought them their food. Ashe didn’t really want to eat out tonight. He and Semmes had stopped at a McDonald’s somewhere between Birmingham and Montgomery for lunch. The idea of another greasy restaurant meal didn’t appeal to him, but Rogers had suggested a seafood place. He decided that crab claws might not be that bad.
“So tell me more about what happened up in Birmingham.” Rogers slurped down an oyster.
“I can’t. Detective Semmes told me not to discuss that issue because he doesn’t want anyone possibly involved to hear about it.”
“Who am I going to tell?”
Ashe cracked opened a claw. “Your priest friend.”
“Only in confession, which is protected information.” Rogers chased another oyster with a swig of beer.
“I better not.”
“You’re going to tell Cybil, and she’s just a work-study.”
Ashe bit off a piece of crabmeat. As he chewed it, he watched Rogers. The psychologist’s eyes seemed playful, but the words seemed loaded.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” Ashe said. “I mean my fiancée just died.”
“She’s cute.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Suddenly the image of Cybil’s small bare breasts filled up Ashe’s mind. “She’s younger than I am and a student.”
“Please, like you would be the first professor to fool around with a student.” Another oyster slid into his mouth. “You ought to talk to the literature professors sometime. It’s like a soap opera mixed with an orgy in their department.”
“I saw the woman who went missing in Birmingham last night at the Mardi Gras parade.” Ashe tried to change the subject.
Rogers nearly choked on an oyster. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, she said that she was the president of some new parading society.”
“Did she look like a zombie?”
“No, she looked like a normal person although she spoke and moved a little stiffly.”
Rogers took a drink from his beer. “So who did you go to the parade with? Because I know you didn’t venture down there by yourself.”
Ashe bit off another piece of crabmeat. He tried to take as long as he could, chewing on it to avoid answering. It was apparent that Rogers wasn’t going to let it go.
“Cybil.”
“I knew it,” the psychologist answered. “How was she? I bet she’s a screamer. She looks like one.”
“We watched a parade then went for a drink, which I didn’t get to have because Detective Semmes called me.” Ashe took a long sip from his cocktail. “There is nothing going on between us.”
“Is that Semmes guy trying to find this missing woman from Birmingham too?” Rogers asked.
“He’s going to try and find out about this new parading society. I guess he figures there might be a connection between the disappearances and that society,” Ashe said.
“That might be a pretty good bet.” Rogers slurped down an oyster and then yawned. “Let’s finish up. I’m really tired all of a sudden.”
“How many of those things have you sucked down?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“I thought you were trying to lose weight and stay fit,” Ashe said.
“I need the protein for the bodybuilding. Just like I need the sleep. Finish up already.”
Ashe was happy to hear that. Nothing would feel better than to get to bed and try to sleep. He just hoped that Carol Heinz and Marianne wouldn’t haunt his dreams.
Security Camera: Storage Facility, Michigan Avenue, Mobile, AL, 10:16 p.m. CST
Several people mill around the room. Only a small bulb dangling from the ceiling lights them. Most of the faces are lost in shadow. Carol Heinz stands in the middle of the people. She speaks to them, and although the others walk around, they seem to be listening.
Marianne walks out of the darker shadows carrying a costume. It looks like a mermaid outfit. The sequins on the tail fin sparkle and shimmer in the little bit of light in the room. All the others look at the costume and touch it. Carol points to the outfit and then to Marianne, who hands the costume to another person. With everyone standing around and staring, Marianne removes her clothes. She stands a long time naked in the midst of all the bodies. No one seems surprised, and not a single person ogles her. She takes the costume back and steps into it. Carol helps her fasten it in the back.
After Marianne twirls to show it off, Carol nods her approval. She speaks to the crowd again, pointing to Marianne the whole time. Then she claps her hands and the group disperses. Marianne turns around and lets her undo the back of the costume. She removes it and stands naked as she and Carol talk back and forth.
A brighter light floods the room as one of the doors opens and lets the bright street lamps from the back of the building shine inside. A man walks in, wearing a hooded sweatshirt with an Alabama Tech logo on it. The hood hides his face. He talks with the two women. Carol drops her head and walks off.
The man reaches out and caresses Marianne’s breast. She does not recoil from him. He pulls her closer, and she moves toward him with stiff mechanical movements. She puts her arms around him, leaving enough room for him to fondle her breasts and then move to the area between her legs. After a few minutes, he leads her to the shadows while unfastening his pants.