Mark Del Franco - Unperfect Souls

The rest of the Murdock men—Gerry, Bar, and Bernard—were local cops, and their sister Faith had gone the state police route. They all lived at home except Faith and Bernard, who had separate apartments not far away. The coming year looked interesting for them all, with the other Murdock sister, Grace, getting married, and Bernard deciding to run for city councilor. Politics and public service ran deep in the blood.

The commissioner’s wife was gone, and while the impression I had was that she was dead, there was an underlying silence about her absence that hinted at tragedy. Despite the sisters, the house didn’t have the feel of a woman’s presence. It was very much the commissioner’s.

Murdock’s bedroom was on the second floor. Shifting the box to one hand, I knocked on the slightly ajar door.

“I’ll be down in a bit, Kev. You don’t need to keep checking on me,” Murdock said.

I pushed the door open. “Not Kevin.”

From his desk chair, Murdock gave me a tired smile. “Sorry. Kevin’s been like an old-lady gnat all morning. Come on in.”

He swiveled in the chair. Other than some darkness under his eyes, he looked fine, to the point of wearing his usual work attire—neatly pressed dark pants and a white collared shirt—sans tie. Papers from an open file on the desk were stacked neatly in a row. More files in file boxes lined the wall. All copies of case files.

I placed the box on the foot of the bed and took a side chair. “What are you working on?”

He rotated the chair. “Not really working. Reviewing the nanny case.”

Several years ago, a young student from Europe summering in the United States was murdered. She was found in a dumpster, just her torso. The list of suspects was bizarre—a photographer, a panhandler, a rock musician, and a guy who walked his dog while dressed as Superman. The woman’s complete remains were never found. Neither was her murderer. That Murdock would decide to read that case was no surprise. Every cop in the city wanted to know what happened to the nanny. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’d rather you read one of those romance novels you don’t want anybody to know you read.”

He smiled and jutted his chin at the box. “What’s that?”

I flipped open the top. “This, my friend, was in my building vestibule this morning addressed to me. It’s your coat, hat, and gun.”

Murdock was on his feet and at the box in an instant. He grabbed the gun and checked it, spun the chambers and sniffed it. Relief washed over him. “It hasn’t been fired.”

“Neither has your bug,” I said.

Murdock pulled the coat out and found the backup gun. Despite what I said, he checked it, too, then locked both guns in his nightstand. “That gives me one less hassle today. I was about to go to the station house and report them gone. What the hell is going on?”

“No one gives up a free gun in the Weird. Someone’s being helpful.”

He pursed his lips. “Do you think it was Zev’s people?”

I shook my head. “That was my initial thought, but it’s got Dead essence all over, several signatures.”

He sat back in his chair. “That doesn’t make sense. They’re the ones that grabbed me.”

“I don’t think they meant to grab you, Murdock,” I said. “Zev told me last night that only solitaries were swept up. The patrol officers who got snagged were returned almost immediately.”

He swiveled slowly in his seat, then met my eyes. “I talked to one of the guys who was there last night. He said they were ordered to stand down and get off the street.”

I frowned. “I can see pulling back if the crowd dispersed on its own, but getting off the street? Who the hell gave that order?”

Murdock glanced toward the door. “I’ll find out.”

He let the silence hang, his face troubled. Two people could have given the order: the senior officer on-site or the police commissioner. But with a couple of hundred angry solitaries out there, an officer on the street would not have made that call. Murdock removed a black shoe from the box. “They only found one shoe?”

“I guess. What’s up with the shoes?” I asked.

He gave me a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“You were all upset about your shoes missing last night.”

He shrugged. “I don’t remember that.”

I leaned forward. “What happened, Leo?”

He went to the window. “You drove my car here?”

I tossed him the keys. “The keys were in your coat, so I picked up the car on the way over. Don’t change the subject.”

He looked down in thought. “I don’t think the Dead are really people, Connor. I’ve been thinking all morning that these Dead we’re seeing are some sort of manifestation of our, I don’t know, hopes? Fears? I don’t think they’re real.”

“They felt pretty real when they tried to kill us in TirNaNog,” I said.

He shook his head. “You know I don’t understand all this essence stuff, but I’ve read enough about psychology to know it’s possible to see—and feel—stuff that’s not real. I’ve seen crowds panic for no reason except that one person did. Maybe between essence and the Taint and mass hysteria, these Dead folks aren’t really there.”

“Murdock, I saw you pulled into the air. You experienced it independently of me. How can we both hallucinate the same phenomenon that neither of us ever experienced before?”

He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t know.”

“I’m no psychologist, but maybe you’re having some kind of denial reaction to what happened. Maybe you should talk to someone.”

He frowned. “I know what happened, Connor. I don’t need a shrink.”

“If there’s one thing I’ve seen you do when it comes to the fey, Leo, it’s keep an open mind. This isn’t like you.”

He rubbed his hands against his thighs. “Maybe one Murdock mind is closing and another one is opening.”

“I have no idea what that means,” I said.

“My father is sleeping with Moira Cashel,” he said.

I blinked several times. “Um . . . did hell just freeze over?” He shook his head. “Murdock, I do not believe your father is sleeping with a powerful druidess. He hates the fey.”

Murdock snorted. “Sex and hypocrisy go hand in hand, don’t they?”

I gnawed at my lower lip, thinking. “Still, your father? I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“He was evasive the other night. I got curious and followed him when he went out. I thought he was having dinner with her again. He went to a hotel in Burlington. She met him in the lobby, and they went upstairs. It didn’t look like he stayed for dinner when he came out.”

Burlington was a small town north of the city. Not the place anyone would look for the Boston police commissioner or the High Queen’s Herbalist. “What do you think it means?”

He shook his head. “I can’t even begin to guess.”

“Why are you bringing this up? You still haven’t said what happened to you last night, Leo.”

He looked out the window again. “Fine. I’ll tell you, but I want your word you won’t tell anyone else.”

“You don’t even have to ask,” I said.

He inhaled deeply and sighed. “A green light fell on me like a wave. Something grabbed me and dragged me into the air. I felt weightless, tumbling and falling, then rising again. All kinds of people and strange animals surrounded me, tossing me back and forth, laughing and screaming. I thought I was losing my mind. I started to pray. There was this loud shout, and someone threw me higher. Someone else caught me. She wrapped her arms around me and held me up. They say as you die, you see the people who went before you, welcoming you to heaven.”

Murdock paused, looking down at his hands. He frowned and gazed out the window. “She looked like my mother, Connor. The woman holding me looked like my mother.”