Page 40 of Any More Questions for the Corpse?

Mal had forgotten about that. His eyes went wide with interminable horror. That frog would be haunting his nightmares until he died. He couldn’t believe a poster had saved his life. He made a mental note to never, ever again go down into the sewers, then sat down on the sofa next to Des and Yu; Hala had taken the armchair.

“So what do we do now?” Hala said, looking to the group.

“Well,” Mal said, “we could lounge around here for a bit; or we could follow up on some leads if people had ideas? Maybe something a bit more relaxed today though. Some grunt work would be nice.”

“I’d be up for that,” Des said, sounding more excited than anyone had expected.

“Something about Taran still bugs me,” Yu said. “His connections to the first few murders. I wouldn’t mind looking into him some more …”

“You sure you wouldn’t rather be studying?” Mal said, smirking at Yu.

“This is studying, of a sort …” Yu said.

“I hear Avalon is lovely this time of day,” Hala said, getting up.

“We could go for a nice walk, maybe have a picnic in view of Taran’s house?” Mal said, smiling.

“A stakeout sounds harmless enough,” Des said.

“Couldn’t go worse than the last time we followed someone,” Hala said, getting a few chuckles from the group. Could it? Mal thought. Surely their luck wasn’t that bad. Either way, getting Des back out there was well worth the risk; sitting around here wasn’t going to get them anywhere. They still had a case to solve.

The group set off, and within thirty minutes they found themselves in a portal queue to Avalon. They popped through the portal door and grabbed a few stakeout snacks from a grubby-looking WHSmith. It wouldn’t be much of a picnic, but he’d enjoy it nonetheless.

The sunny Dunwich weather hadn’t made it to Avalon yet. For them, it seemed the heavens themselves had parted. They hurried through the little streets that Avalon considered its grand shopping destination. They found shelter in a little coffee shop on the coast front named The Tea View where they camped out, drinking tea and going over their files until the rain broke. An hour or so later the sun came out and cleared the way for the group. Immediately, Des realized her mistake; the sun was no longer her friend. The seafront was busier now and the group searched for something to help. Hala found a clothes shop selling large, brash hats that flopped and fell under their own weight and whose diameter was bigger than your arm. Des bought a large floppy black hat on the spot. Somehow she made it work, but she did look a tad ridiculous. On their way, Mal found a shop selling fancy sandwiches as long as his forearm, and treated the group. Picnic now complete, they made for the grassy domed hill that housed their target.

Mal couldn’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed. He thought back to their first trip to Avalon and how stressed he was about Des and Hala finding out about his secret. He didn’t have to worry about that anymore. He allowed himself to turn his brain off a bit. It occurred to him that nearly every time he’d tried to relax in the last week, a zombie had appeared. He gave a quick glance around to double-check, but happily found only tourists and beachgoers on the tiny Avalon street. He’d never been amazingly good at making friends; the start had always gone well, but then his secrets would push them away. Mal found out long ago that there was a limit to how much people can stand being lied to, and it was never very long before he’d reach it. If this was what acceptance felt like, he was starting to enjoy it.

The group got to the bottom of the grassy, domed hill and started up the path that led to Taran’s house. Mal was happy that so far everything had gone smoothly. Last night had been a bit of a disaster, but now he was spending time with people he cared about and who he hoped cared about him. Things felt right; they felt good. No dead, no murder, just friends and a stakeout. Mal tried hard to enjoy it while he could. If recent history was anything to go by something awful would happen any second. Any second …

17A Sweet Picnic Where Nothing Happens

By late afternoon the sun had dried the meadowy grass covering the hill, prompting the group to move from their stakeout bench to a spot a bit closer to the tower. The new spot was atop a different hill, slightly up the way from Taran’s house, which afforded them a perfect view of the entire grounds; unfortunately, most of the house was about or within the hill, so they mostly stared at the tower and made note of anyone who entered and exited the premises. On any other day, Mal would have considered a stakeout mind-numbingly dull, but today it was exactly what he needed. The group took shifts using a pair of binoculars Des had “borrowed” from her job, and they attempted to be as inconspicuous as possible. Between his shifts Mal perused his book, making sure to obscure the cover from anyone walking by. The group chatted and laughed, passing the time at a leisurely pace; Mal enjoyed the calm of it all.

Mal thought that he would choose a simpler case next time, something he could solve with a simple resurrection, wouldn’t that be nice. This case seemed to get more confusing by the second, especially if you add in Des’s thoughts on the matter. She was convinced the zombie attacks and murders were related. She made some good points; the lightning killer and the zombies had both tried to kill them specifically, and it would be a strange coincidence if two separate nutters had decided to attack them in the same week. But how were they related?

Their suspect pool was tiny and impossible: Mazino seemed both obvious and ludicrous, with him being both dead and imprisoned at the time of the killings; Taran fit the bill for the lightning murders but had no motive and no knowledge of the Order. That was that, end of list. What other suspects did they have? For the zombies, none at all. It wasn’t Mal, and Kosh was dead and spiked two days before it happened, so who else could it be? A mystery necromancer who can teleport, shoot lightning, and knew about the Order? Taran knew about necromancy, he all but pointed to Mal and said as much—could he be a secret necromancer? Mal imagined the Order would know of such things, but they weren’t infallible, as proven by the incident with Erik.

Mal flashed back to the most recent murder scene, then the lamp chase. At least we caught one killer? he thought. Solving one out of their two cases wasn’t bad. If you counted Erik as being “caught” you could even say it was two out of three, though Erik did kill those criminals on their watch. Mal struggled to wrap his head around how it all fit together. So many pieces, so many dead, what was it all for? Was it a spree? Why attack the Order? Was it a serial killer who just enjoyed the crimes? Was it all a plan to break out Mazino? Was the plan even complete? How many more bodies would drop before they solved this?

Mal had been staring at a page of his book but not actually reading it, too busy in thought to concentrate on anything that might be helpful. He closed the book and looked up to see whose shift it was, and Hala promptly handed him the binoculars. Looks like it was his turn.

He spent the next twenty minutes staring at the old tower atop the grassy hill. Very little, if anything, happened in this time. Several people walked past the tower—bird watchers, dog walkers, strange people who enjoy moving their legs as a pastime—but nothing from the house. Mal guessed Taran must be like any other old man, living peacefully, enjoying a head full of memories and the relaxation of retirement. Mal always thought retirement sounded awfully dull. What would you do with all that time? Maybe he would understand when he got there; if the rest of Mal’s life continued as this week had, he would relish a long, final break. Taran would’ve had more adventures than most people, so he was probably enjoying the calm like Mal was.

Mal remembered how their interview with Taran had gone, with Elaine getting upset as they were leaving. Mal wondered what kind of illness Taran was struggling with. What had Elaine said? “He’s only really lucid in the mornings.” Maybe some kind of dementia or Alzheimer’s? Mal remembered how his granddad had suffered the same, those final years where he didn’t recognize Mal at all. Not a fate he wished on anyone.

Mal pushed the bad memories to one side and checked the time; it was time for someone else’s shift. He passed the binoculars to Des and smiled as she reached out from under her ridiculous hat to use them. She kept having to bat away the edges as they folded down in front of the binoculars, causing the group to giggle. Mal reached into his pocket and produced the egg-timer-hourglass-thingy. He marveled at it, trying to comprehend how it actually worked. Its time was still set to forty-eight hours, but it needed resetting as the sand parts were full; clearly the time part didn’t rotate back to zero like a regular egg timer. The fact it was bright pink also baffled Mal. Who could have designed such a strange thing? None of this mattered, of course; Mal would use it and then he would be free. His parents could live their lives—well, deaths—without any intervention from Mal. It would be glorious, he—

“Something’s happening,” Des said, ushering the group to look down the hill toward the tower.

“What is it? I can’t see …” Hala said, straining her eyes.

“Taran just appeared outside,” Des said, “from out of nowhere. Now Elaine’s out there with him. She seems to be trying to coax him back inside.”

“What happened?” Yu asked.

“He just appeared in a flash. He scared the arse out of some hikers,” Des said, handing Mal the binoculars for him to have a look.

Mal looked down and saw Elaine wrapping a blanket around a hobbling Taran as she slowly got him moving back inside. It was getting late in the day now; Taran would be struggling if what Elaine said was true. Caring for a dementia patient is hard, let alone one who can teleport at will.