“Danger?” I asked the disembodied voice? “What danger? From you?”

{No. Not from Shade. Danger is to your other Unit, Chosen Unit Antarm}

I was confused, “Why do you call me chosen unit? What is my other unit?”

{Chosen Unit is you, you were chosen. Your other Unit is in grave danger, Chosen Unit Antfarm}

My thoughts were slowing, my head filling with water “I’m tired, you know” I said, “funny to be tired in a dream.”

{You are not dreaming Chosen Unit Antfarm. You are in grave danger. You must not sleep Chosen Unit Antfarm}

The voice no long pulsed through me, instead it wrapped around me like a warm blanket. The world faded out and the floor caught me.

**{}**

I dreamt.

I dreamt of the meadow.

I dreamt it was on fire. My nose filled with the stench of burning flesh.

I dreamt my skin was burning away, melting off my body like wax. The muscles and bone beneath gleaming in the hungry flames.

I dreamt I screamed and screamed and screamed.

**{}**

I opened my eyes and saw the face that was both mine and not mine looking back at me. Curious how it was curved, big and round. With a slight smile I realised I was looking into a large glass bubble the colour of steel. I moved my head back and could see I was looking into the lens eye of a beetle-like collection of metal and wires hovering above me. I was led on the ground looking up at what I guessed must be a robot.

{Chosen Unit Antfarm} it spoke to me, its mechanical voice urgent {I have stabilised the connection but you are in grav…}

“Grave danger, yes I heard. I remember.” I yawned a soul-deep yawn, “What is this danger? Who are you?” I struggled groggily to my feet.

{I am Shade. I am the city, the oceans, the forests, the sky. I am all you see here. The danger is to your other Unit in not-Shade. A non-you Unit wants to shut it down}

“But this is just a dream, Shade, just a dream.” I smiled.

The robot whirled and hummed, {Negative. Units have split. Chosen Unit Antfarm in Shade and not-Shade. Unit in not-Shade currently malfunctioning. Repair process started. Non-you Unit has begun shutdown attempt. Relay available. Download initiated}

“Huh? Downlo…ARRRRRRG!” I began to ask before a thin beam of light shot from under the robot’s lens directly into my eyes. My mind was filled with the image of a small hospital room, it was night and bent over the only bed in the room as a figure hidden by a dark hood and cape. Whoever it was had a small bottle in one hand a pipette in the other dripping something into the mouth of the patient beneath them. The patient was in a bad way with what looked like burns to his whole body. I knew without knowing that it was me and that the mysterious figure was not a doctor on night rounds. The image blurred, faded and was gone. The download was over.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded.

{Relay from not-Shade} Shade informed me as if the fact were simple enough to be understood by a child. I struggled to my feet, the hovering machine humming gently as it kept up with me.

“And not-shade is?”

{Not Shade}

“Of course. And I am there as well as here?”

{Correct}

“How? How is it possible?”

{Dimensional split evident. Reason for split unknown}

“So you are saying this not a dream?”

{Correct. Shade is real. Not-Shade is real. Split between two is real}

I had the strangest feeling that this all should surprise me, terrify me even, but it didn’t. Although not sure why, I took this information calmly, “Can we start at the beginning?”

The machine whirled slightly {Time is limited Chosen Unit Antfarm, yours and mine}

“OK, we’ll have to be quick then. Stop me if I’m wrong. I’m not dreaming, I’m really here but I’m also led in a hospital bed badly burnt and with someone there trying to kill me, correct?”

{Correct}

“Right, and here is a city called Shade and you are the city, or its monitor, correct?”

{Correct}

“Do you know how I got here?”

{No}

“But you said something about a dimensional split?”

{Correct}

I stared at the robot before realising that was the entirety of its answer. “Well, care to explain what that is?”

{A energy force large enough to achieve escape velocity would be required to break through the walls of the multiverse. Speculation is not within my nature, but evidence would lead to speculation that you encountered such a force and were transported to Shade dimension from your own and the process split your units in two}

“But how can I be here and there?”

{Unknown}

“Speculate?”

Again a long pause from the robot.

“Shade?”

It hummed briefly and gave a click {Your unit here is not your unit. Speculation is your other-unit consciousness is here in this not-you unit}

I looked down at my body, at hands I didn’t recognise and at a reflection of a face I knew was not my own, “Makes sense,” I said to no one in particular. “But then,” I addressed Shade again “where is the person who owns this body.”

{All units have been erased} It’s cool, mechanical voice could have been reading the shares index or shipping forecast.

“I’m sorry? What did you say” I struggled to make sense of what I had just heard.

{All units have been erased}

“All units?”

{All units have been erased}

The city was empty. I hadn’t seen or heard a single soul. Coffee steaming in cups. Half-eaten food. Not one single person. No bird calls. No dogs. Nothing. No one.

{All units have been erased} Shade repeated as I slumped against a wall on legs suddenly made from string…

{All units have been erased}

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Far From Home” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Amarantis Belfire watches over the burnt man here.

“But not stabbed again?” Fuzz paced the room as I sat in front of his desk watching him. He reminded me of a little wooden figure going in and out of a clock, a really angry little wooden figure with claws and fangs.

“Nope. The hanging killed him for sure and he was beaten up pretty badly before that, but no stab wounds,” I replied. “Sit down Fuzz, you’re making me nervous.”

He waved my request aside and continued his pacing, “And apart from the leaflet about Dr Alter’s businesses, there was nothing to link the two deaths?” The swinging stiff had nothing on him apart from a dog-eared three-fold leaflet extolling the virtues of Dr A’s wares, all of them with innocent sounding descriptions dreamt up by some marketing type to distract from the fact that the “super powerful lighthouse beam alternative to normal bulbs” was actually a death ray capable of sinking several of O’Toole’s Ironclads in one go. The little cartoon logo of Dr Alter herself was mighty cute though…

“Er, I guess not…” I was halfway through a reply before I realised it wasn’t a question.

“But then two deaths in two days is a mighty big coincidence.”

“Well the first guy had only been dead for twelve hours or so, this new one had been hanging at least a week. Different MO, different location, different times.”

“Which could be worse!” Fuzz said running his fingers through his hair. Or fur. I was never quite sure.

“How so?” I asked.

“Two killers instead of one. And if John Doe was killed whilst investigating smugglers then I doubt the general populace is in danger, whereas if we have a different killer on the loose then who knows? It ain’t good doc, that’s for sure.”

I pushed my chair away and got to my feet, “Well if I can do anything Fuzz, you know where I am, but I have to get back to the slums.”

“Hmmm,” he was distracted, “Oh yes, your patients. You get back to them, doc, they’ll be missing you.”

“It’s more than that Fuzz,” I replied.

He looked at me, concern evident on his face, “All ok over there? I know it’s a bit wild…”

“Ha! It’s more than wild Fuzz, as you and the Council know. But it ain’t the tong this time, some Chinese kids came to my place after your nun left this morning, seems there’s a fever spreading.”

“A fever? Is it dangerous? Should I let the Council know?” Fuzz knew as well as I that the slums were a breeding ground for all manner of nasties and it bordered on some of the finest real estate in the city.

“Worried about property prices, Fuzz? We can’t have the great and the good cancelling their balls due to projectile vomiting now, can we?” I shouldn’t have said it but I said it all the same. Sometimes my mouth opens wide enough to take both of my feet in at once and right now I was knee deep in gums.

“Hey! That’s not fair doc and you know it!” Fuzz looked hurt and I felt lower than a worm’s beard.

“Yeah, sorry Fuzz, but well you know what I think about the slums and the council…” I trailed off.

“I know doc, I know. Look, get back there and find out what’s going on. Let me know and if it needs to go to the council I’ll do my best for you, fair enough?” he said with a small smile.

I smiled back “Fair enough,” and began to head for the door leaving the city’s sheriff to solve two grizzly murders in my wake.

“Doc,” Fuzz’s voice stopped me as I grasped the handle, “stay out of the dens, eh?” My shoulders went rigid and I stood stock still for long seconds before I slowly opened the door and left without saying one more goddam lousy word.

****{}****

To be continued after a short break…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) The murders are discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.
2) Dr Alter discovers she’s not only in the frame again, but seems to have a publicity department she was previously unaware of here.

“Ahh Doctor, come in come in.” The small Chinese guy at the door was paid not to know me and I shot him a glance to remind him of that fact, “So sorry, Mister Smith.” His wide, thin smile was as genuine as could be expected for a low paid goon in the drugs trade who thought he was worth more than being nice to the smoke-fiends. I’d let the Dragon Lady know, let’s see how he smiled after she’d booted him down to gutting fish in the cannery for a month. His smile twitched cruelly as he opened the door for me and I crossed the threshold between worlds.

I followed the curved path down to where a darkly translucent curtain divided me from my goal ahead. I could feel the tendrils of desire creeping around it, wafting towards me, and all the nuns in Steelhead couldn’t stop me now. I breathed the thick air in deep and pushed through the curtain to a room of cots and smoke and beautiful women.

They pamper you there. They guide you, help you, lose you and leave you.

I was in the smoke. With the Dragon lady. In the curls of her hair. Wrapped in the folds of her dress. I was far gone. I was with them again. Back with my family. Back with my wife.

**{}**

Through the darkness of impossible dreams hands found me. Strong hands. Cold hands, cold like metal. I was lifted up, borne aloft to fly safe from harm. Somewhere, in the night, someone was sawing a double bass in half. What a strange thing to do.

**{}**

The knock on the door was almost as unwelcome as the bright morning light assaulting my eyes. I stood, naked to the waist and with the face of a dead dog, and wobbled my way to the door. “Sister Sweetcheeks,” I growled at the shocked nun. Someone had replaced my throat with a bag of gravel and every word hurt like a punch in the tonsils, “to what do I owe this very great pleasure?”

The young nun tried to stop her eyes skiing down my chest and failed, she gulped hard and spun around to look out across the harbour, her face even prettier with some colour in it, “Another murder, doctor!”

Another? Once more she provided the slap I needed to wake up. When I had time, I’d like to think about that some more, but right now I had questions looking for answers, “Who? Where? Was it Dr Alter’s squid again?”

“No,” she replied not turning around but sneaking a sideways glance at me, “In the old tunnels, some poor wretch has been found hung! Sheriff Ortega has arranged for the body to be taken to your temporary morgue in the naval offices. He asks if you can get a report to him right away.”

“Does he now? Well tell him I’ll get on it right away, but I’ll be calling in these favours from the city soon enough.”

“Favours?” Sister Sweetcheeks looked round at me, her eyes alive with curiosity. God but they were beautiful eyes.

“You tell him Sis, the city owes Beck some overtime,” I smiled into her eyes, “and I intend to collect that cheque.”

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) The murders are discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.
2) Dr Alter discovers she’s not only in the frame again, but seems to have a publicity department she was previously unaware of here.

I tossed the report on the sheriff’s desk, “There’s your post mortem.”

The sheriff looked down at my scrawl and then back up at me, “And?”

“What? You can’t read now?” I snapped.

“Don’t get cute with me, doc.” His tone was calm but I heard the snarl behind the words.

“Okay, sorry Fuzz but it’s been a rough day and frankly I’d like to tie it in a sack and kick it into the ocean!” A nun shuffling past with coffee for us looked at me and raised an eyebrow, a perfectly curved eyebow above a eye of emerald green. I smiled a smile and hoped to hell no one could read my mind right. As she left, she bent over to pop a chunk of cheese in the cells for Willard and my gaze fell on her curves like honey over a spoon, “Still, it’s had its moments, I’ll admit,” I added, suddenly a little distracted.

“Thank you Sister Mattic,” Fuzz said with a rye smile, “I’m sure Willard can do without his treat for now.” She nodded and bustled off. “Doc, doc, doc, what is it with you and nuns?”

“A habit, Fuzz, a bad habit.”

He smiled a frown, which is a nice trick, “The report? What does it say? How did this guy die?”

“Bottom line he was stabbed, several times, looks like a sword.” I replied.

“A sword? What type of sword? Rapier? Broad?”

“From the wounds I’d say a cutlass. Large flat blade. He was stabbed three times in the abdomen and two in the chest and had defensive wounds to his arms, hands and thighs. I say he fought back but was probably unarmed at the time.”

“Nasty,” Fuzz muttered with a shake of his head.

“Well it was no prom dance, that’s for sure,” I replied.

“What about the green goo around him?” Fuzz asked.

“Hard to say, but my best guess is some form of mucus membrane produced by the squiddy thing to protect itself. Dr A thinks that her wee pet was deliberately mutated to a point where a human could be fed to it, although how she didn’t know.”

“So whoever mutated the goo-beast did so with the intention of getting rid of a body. Only the goo didn’t like what was on the menu, wrapped it up and waited for Mother Nature to work her magic,” Fuzz filled in.

“Sounds about right to me. So you know how he died, but not who he is, why he ended up like a pin cushion and who had a beef with him.”

“Actually I do know who he is,” Fuzz said in a matter of fact way.

I sat up, “You do? Who? How?” I asked like a turkey just being told about Christmas.

“Pinkertons. Came in, saw the body, IDed him as John Doe.” Fuzz stated with an odd expression.

“John Doe? You have to be joking? Who the hell is called John Doe?” something about this case smelt worse than the Skylar child and I didn’t like it.

“Apparently he was. It’s a good ID, solid.” Fuzz said.

“But what the hell are the Pinkertons doing here? And how do they know him?” I asked.

“Turns out he was here investigating smuggling in those precious slums of yours. I’m guessing he found his way to something, or someone, he shouldn’t and was perforated for his troubles.”

The slums? My slums? “You’re thinking the Bing Kong aren’t you? So what next?” the Bing Kong were not just a thorn in my side, but as whole rose bush in my tush.

“Next? Next you go home doc. It’s police business now. Thanks for your help an’ all, but we can take it from here.”

Damn him, I knew he was right, but damn him.

“Look, I’ll let you know what happens, but you’ve done your part. You have patients that need you, and I’ve taken you away from them for a whole day. Get some sleep and get back to them doc.” Fuzz smiled warmly but he looked weary.

“Don’t worry about me, Sheriff,” I stood and picked up my bag, “you look tired enough for the both of us.” I said my goodbyes and cycled off. Sure I was tired, tired like Santi Claus on Boxing Day, but I was damned if I was going home. I cycled off along a shortcut through the hills behind Shanghai and headed for the hotel that rose high above the harbour, although what I was looking for lay deep below it…

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Sheriif Ortega’s intial desk report is here and here
2) The murder is discussed for the second time at the weekly town hall meeting here.
3) Read more about the urchin Skylar in his tale about being lost in Steelhead’s wilderness here.

Cuter than Christmas yet deadlier than Death itself, Dr Malegatto Alter was a tiny kitty with brains, brawn and seriously big ballistics. Not that I’d ever tell her she was cute, hell there’s only one man brave enough to do that and rumour has it she’d burnt his house down as a thank you. No, when you find yourself knee-deep in a piranha pool it’s not a good idea to cut yourself shaving as my old mum always said, “The sheriff knows I’m here,” I blurted hoping the edge of fear wouldn’t show through my voice.

The green eyes bore through me, her metal claw (a drunk once told me that she’d lost her arm pulling Satan’s heart out through his stomach and I was tempted to believe him) twitched a little as she regarded me with the level of loathing normally reserved for cockroaches, slugs and unexpected houseguests. “Well bully for you,” she said after a pause so long it could only be measured in lifetimes or games of Monopoly, “but that hardly answers the twin questions of who the devil is in my Squiddy Thing and why, now does it?”

“I guess not, I need to get him out before I can try. Any ideas?” I tried to sound a whole heap braver than I felt and I was under no illusions about my failure in the matter.

“Ideas? Ideas? Of course I have some ideas you blithering fool! Right at this moment the idea I’m giving quite a lot of time to involves you, some rope and the quay if you ask any more stupid questions!”

Her whiskers quivered in rage and I found myself thinking how adorable it was. I even contemplated reaching out to scratch behind here ears, but the thought of my hand being torn off and rammed down my throat brought me to my senses. “I mean about how to get the stiff out of your little pet here, assuming you don’t want me to slice it open…” it wasn’t a great comeback as comebacks go, but hand-tear-throat-ram you know.

“I most certainly do NOT want my sqiddy thing cutting up! I have prepared a solution that will cause a metabolic reaction within the creature that should expel the foreign body in a safe, natural manner.”

“You mean…”

“That’s right, I’ve created a squid laxative!” she let out a peel of evil laughter that would have given Satan the willies, were he not dead due to having a heart-shaped hole in his abdomen. “Ahem,” she stopped laughing with a slight cough, “sorry, force of habit and all that.”

“Some habit,” I said, “must make playing Trivial Pursuit a real pain in the keister.”

“You have no idea,” she muttered darkly.

I tactfully changed the subject “So, this squiddy exlax, how do we administer it? Some form of injection?” I walked towards the green column, wondering at the best place for a needle. There was no answer and when I turned I saw Dr Alter struggling into what looked like a deep sea diving suit. She twisted the helmet on and looked up at me. I could see her mouth moving but couldn’t make out a word. I make the universal pointing at my ears sign and mouthed “What?”

She flipped out the glass “I said, I already have.”

Behind me was a loud, low rumble followed by a slow ripping sound.

“Oh sh…” was all I managed to say before a torrent of liquefied squid innards and dead John Doe crashed into my back and I washed past Dr Alter in a stinking waves of green slime. I’d swear she was smiling inside her helmet as I passed her.

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Sheriif Ortega’s intial desk report is here and here
2) Dr Alter notices the body here and here.
3) Elle reports that the issue was raised at the town hall meeting here.
4) The murder is discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.

Did I mention I was living in Steelhead? No? Are you sure? I’m pretty certain I may have mentioned it once or twice…

The great thing about living in Steelhead is that it extends way past the grid itself – there is a very active Ning (http://steelheadsl.ning.com/) and a great new Wiki (http://bandobast.wikidot.com/) that allow discussion and sharing of all the great ideas, events and stories that such a dynamic community generates.

If you’ve been following the discussions on this blog (and others) about RP, then you really should take a look at the Steelhead Ning (not to mention the New Babbage Ning but here are a few of the key discussion you may find interesting to start you off

1. General discussion on RP in Steelhead from January 09.
2. More detailed discussion about RP in Steelhead from July 09.
3. Elegia Underwood’s rule of RP from July 09.
4. Aspects of Steelhead that can be used in RP from July 09.
5. Discussion about the confusion and learning curves of trying new RP styles from August 09.
6. Discussion about imagining Steelhead from August 09.
7. Discussion about NOT imagining Steelhead from August 09.
8. Discussion about good character design from November 09.
9. Discussion on having enemies for your character from November 09.

There are more discussion over on the Steeelhead Ning here, but there are a ton more over on the New Babbage Ning here – go take a looksee! Also check out the Steelhead Story Archive, Hotspur’s Page O’ Tales, the Steelhead Wiki, and the New Babbage Wiki.

*****{*}*****

Room fifteen stank. A small room, it was hot and close and the air was thick with the smell of putrefying flesh; the young nurse could feel her revulsion rise and show on her face. She looked at the ward sister and received a narrow-eyed glare of disapproval in reply.

“Mr Antfarm,” the Sister said to the man in the bed before her, “Mr Antfarm, it’s Ward Sister Grace. I’ve brought Nurse Rain again. We’ve come to check your dressings before Doctor makes his rounds, Mr Antfarm.”

Her tone seemed cold and uncaring to the young nurse. This was her first week at Caledon Regency and she had a strong feeling she had found her way into the deep end from the off. Not only was she assigned to the fearsome Sister Grace’s ward, but she had landed the worst burns case the hospital had ever seen.

She looked down at the figure led beneath the damp gauze bandages and wondered what kept him alive.

His lungs were burnt almost beyond use, there wasn’t a scrap of skin left on his body, he could barely move and as of yesterday no longer able to communicate, his attempts to the wheeze and rasp a few exhausting words having slowly stopped. He must be terrible pain and she wondered if the opium Sister Grace administered could be strong enough to hold it at bay.

Again the sickly sweet taste of death hit the back of her throat and she felt her stomach heave. She dashed from the room, narrowly missed Dr Roundtree as he was coming in, and headed for the nearest lavatory.

Roundtree raised an eyebrow at a clearly furious Sister Grace but said nothing, instead he turned to his patient, “Hello Mr Antfarm, Dr Roundtree here. I see that Sister Grace here has been taking good care of you as ever. Now let’s see these dressings shall we?” He gently lifted one of the round pads that covered his patient’s eyes and peered underneath for a few seconds before replacing it and looking up at Sister Grace, his face lined with concern.

“Sister? How much opium have you given him?”

The woman bristled and shot an alarmed look at the doctor, “Just what you have prescribed, Dr Roundtree. It’s all here in his notes, dosages and times.”

“Well clearly something isn’t right, Sister. Your patient seems to have slipped into a narcotic coma, which you have failed to spot!” the doctor snapped.

Sister Grace felt her mouth flapping, but before she could say anything the doctor waved her protests silent, “There is nothing for it but to keep a watch on him and hope he comes out of it soon. His breathing is already so damaged that I can’t say I hold out much hope. Maybe his quietly slipping away would be for the best.”

The door opened again and a pale Nurse Rain sheepishly re-entered the room. Both Doctor Roundtree and Sister looked furious. The doctor pushed past the he and left the room whilst Sister Grace glared at his departing back. Nurse Rain looked up at Sister and began to offer apologies.

“I will deal with you later, young lady!” Sister Grace hissed at her, “In the meantime I want you to change this man’s dressings and clean this room. And while you are at it, maybe you should take a long, hard look at the suffering of this poor soul and try to remember why you came into medicine!”

“Yes Sister,” she managed meekly as Sister Grace also pushed past her out of the room.

And she was alone with the poor wretch. She gathered up all her courage and bound it tightly inside her chest before bending down and beginning the slow, laborious task of removing his dressings.

**{}**

A few hours later, with the moon full and high in the cloudless inky-black sky, a nightwatchman slowly made his way down the corridor that led to room fifteen. It had been a quiet night and the lonely perambulations down dark, silent corridors was having a decidedly soporific effect on the man. Just as he reached the door to room fifteen a large and unstoppable yawn rose up from within him and erupted forth. The tired guard met the escaping harbinger of exhaustion with the back of his hand, his head tilting back and eyes closing tight as he walked. Three steps later and it was gone, the nightwatchman shook his head and walked on.

Those three steps had taken him past the door of room fifteen; a door that was ajar instead of tightly closed. Inside and quite unseen by the weary guard a hooded figure bent over the burnt patient and dripped a clear liquid into his lipless mouth…

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Far From Home” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other tales:
1) Amarantis Belfire writes of the patient’s journey to Caledon here.

The rope was tight, but then it had been tied by a metal gargoyle who, I guessed, didn’t have internal organs to worry about.

“You ok there, doc?” Shal asked.

“As long as I don’t try anything foolish like breathing,” I replied with my stomach quite literally in my mouth in the way that ‘literally’ meant I was making it up for dramatic effect.

“Ah,” he smiled, “you’ll be fine doc. Better to be safe than digested, eh?” He had a point. “First sign of trouble, I’ll yank you back, ok?”

I looked at the size of his chest and arms, “Just don’t yank too hard, I’m rather attached to my legs.”

He grinned a knife drawer grin and I began my cautious approach of the squiddy thing and its gruesome contents. If it detected my presence, it showed no sign whatsoever. I passed a large blood stain on the cobbles and by the time I was next to the tower of green goo and dead guy, I could see another two, one of which was on a ramp leading down to a small dock below.

I walked around the site softly, but it was soon clear that wee squiddy posed little danger anymore – it seemed to have gone into a state of shock. I called Shal over and breathed a sigh of relief as he removed the rope noose threatening to cut me in half.

“Hard tell which one came off worse,” he said gazing into the slime at the body suspended inside, “Do you think it ate him as he passed?”

I looked round at the blood in the yard, “I think there was some sort of struggle here, or the body was moved here at least. I won’t be sure until I can get him out and I have no idea how to do that, I was never top in my squiddy things classes, y’see.”

“Heh, well the sheriff said he was going to speak to Dr Alter about its removal, I guess she’s best placed to administer a giant enema to her pet. You got plans until then?”

Plans? Did I have plans? Do I ever have plans? “Yeah, rounds to do for a start. Patients seem incapable of not getting ill no matter how many times I tell them not to, but what you gonna do, huh?”

He slipped me a grin like a new moon, “A doctor’s gotta do what a doctor’s gotta do, I guess. And you seem to have things in hand so I’ll take my leave and head off in to the wild blue yonder.”

I nodded, “Well thanks for the help. I’ll se you around no doubt.”

He smiled me a smile that could floor a rhino walked off around the corner whistling a crazy tune. There was a sound like someone sawing a double bass in half and wandered off after him to see what it was. He was gone. Just like that. Gone. I scratched my whiskers and muttered “Well I’ll be damned…”

“Indeed, as will we all,” a voice hissed behind me. I spun round but the yard was emptier than a pawn broker’s Christmas stocking. “Ahem” came an annoyed cough near my ankles. I looked down into the into the green eyes and mouse-munching mouth of a tiny evil-looking kitty.

“Dr Alter, I pres…” there as a sharp snick as she flicked a quivering claw at my face. “If you are thinking of saying what I think you are thinking of saying, I would advise you to think again. Now if you don’t mind, I believe I’m needed here to once again prove my own innocence.”

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Sheriif Ortega’s intial desk report is here and here
2) Dr Alter notices the body here and here.
3) Elle reports that the issue was raised at the town hall meeting here.
4) The murder is discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.

It didn’t take me too long to get ready. One of the advantages of being a poor doctor in the slums is that I had very little to get ready with and with my satchel lashed to the back, I set off on my bike, more rusty than trusty, to see the John Doe in the jello.

The ride was smooth and quick, the streets of Steelhead still smelt of recent work and tax-payers dollars; if only City Hall would throw a few in the direction of the slums but hey, I was always a dreamer. I even managed to cock a rye smile as I passed the Justice League Halls – the last JLUer who wandered into the slums to, and I quote, “sort out the Bing Kong ruffians once and for all!” was last seen dressed as a girl guide tied to a mast on a very slow boat to Zindra. I shouldn’t laugh. No, I really shouldn’t.

I rounded the hall and drew up to the wall of the aptly named Evil Tiny Kitty Laboratories. I could see yellow police tape and warning signs all over the place, but no Sheriff. I propped the bike against a wall and walked over to get a look at the stiff in the green squiddy thing, and if the stiff looked stiff then the squiddy thing out stiffed him with ease. Hell, you could practically run a flag up it and salute St Peter and all the angels to their faces. I was no squiddy thing expert, but even if the damn thing had eaten the poor sap on purpose, I’d lay money on the fact he didn’t agree with it.

“Doesn’t look well, does it?” a voice like someone pouring molten steel down a valley suddenly appeared at me ear. I spun round and found myself face to face with a gargoyle. A six foot gargoyle in a top hat with a grin that would give a crocodile a complex and skin colour the envy of every battleship in the fleet. I did my best not to look flustered, but sometimes your best just isn’t good enough.

“Which one? The giant green spear of snot or the poor sod inside?” was all I managed in return.

“Ha!” gargoyle boy laughed, “either, both, take your pick. Shalmendo Glineux.” He held out his hand in greeting. I took it and let out an involuntary gasp – he was cold, cold like ice, cold like stone, cold like “Metal?” I asked.

“Heh, I’m made of it in exactly the same way you aren’t,” he replied with a smile that made me think of steak knives, “Dr Beck, I presume?”

“Yeah, how did you know?”

“Well the doctor’s bag on your bike was my first clue. The Sheriff told me to look out for you, point you to the body, not that you could miss it,” he nodded his head towards the still stiff stiffs.

“No, guess not,” I said, “I’m going to take a closer look.”

“The sheriff said you’d want to, asked me to keep an eye on you in case Squiddster there did eat a passer-by and is still hungry. I’ve got some rope.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Rope?”

“Yeah, rope. You know, like mountaineers? Round your waist and heave ho if you fall of the edge into the goo. Rope.”

What could I say? Well, there was an endless supply of thing I could have said, but in the end I let a metal gargoyle lasso me before I gingerly approached a column made entirely of green goo and dead person. Just your average day in Steelhead, I told myself for the thousandth time…

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Sheriif Ortega’s intial desk report is here and here
2) Dr Alter notices the body here and here.
3) Elle reports that the issue was raised at the town hall meeting here.
4) The murder is discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.

The knock at the door woke me from a dream full of the stench of the sewers and death. I staggered over, opened it and found myself staring into the face of a stern young nun.

“Dr Beck?” her voice was as clean and crisp as the wimple framing her face. A face with eyes as deep as forever and the kind of mouth men go to war over. And this dame was a nun? It was a sin.

“Whazz wrung, sister?” I asked with a mouth drier than the Gobi.

“The sheriff has asked if you could come to Dr Alter’s warehouse. There’s been, well… an incident.”

Dr Alter? I knew the name, who didn’t. Cute-as-a-button kitten with a penchant for inventing death rays and diabolical plans in equal measures. Maybe one of them had gone wrong at last. Or right, I suppose. I rubbed my eyes hard with my palms and re-focused on the broad in the penguin suit, I needed more information, “What kind of incident?”

“Well,” her big, brown eyes darted left and right and she lowered her voice “a murder, doctor!”

I woke up for the second time that morning, “A murder? In Steelhead?” I sounded as dumb as brick and half as useful, but it was early and damn it if the board hadn’t stopped me thinking straight. She was one of the Steelhead Holy SWAT team working with the Sheriff, of course she meant in Steelhead!

“Yes,” she breathed breathlessly, which was a nice trick, I bet she was a peach on the bugle, “there’s a body inside Dr Alter’s squid thing!”

The squid thing, the green tentacle of goo that waved about like a drunk at midnight in the kitty cat’s yard. Maybe someone tried to feed it. Big mistake. Or maybe someone tried to bump the good doctor off. Even bigger mistake. The bumper would become the bumpee before they even knew they’d been bump-jumped. Although I found it hard to believe she’d be sloppy enough to get caught.

“Doctor?” Sister Sweetcheeks’ voice drifted through my thoughts and slapped me across the head. I looked up and into the face of a slightly shocked nun, “You… you were staring, doctor!”

“That’s my thinking face, sister. I don’t use it often but I find it helps when I’ve got a beautiful view.”

“Doctor!” she gasped, putting her hand up to her bee-sting mouth.

“Behind you Sister, the harbour in the morning sun.” The glowing red cheeks did nothing to dampen her appeal as I smiled as innocently. As innocently as any fox sat outside a henhouse.

“Well, er… shall I… shall I tell the sheriff you’ll come?” she was flustered and cute with it.

“Sure doll,” I said with a wink, “tell him I’ll be right over.”

****{}****

To be continued…
All the “Goodunnit? Murder in Steelhead!” posts can be read here.

*****{*}*****

Links to other blogs and stories:
1) Sheriif Ortega’s intial desk report is here and here
2) Dr Alter notices the body here and here.
3) Elle reports that the issue was raised at the town hall meeting here.
4) The murder is discussed at the weekly town hall meeting here.