Ellen Datlow - The Best Horror of the Year. Volume 4

“He’s walked out on you? Doesn’t surprise me at all, you can be a pain in the neck at times, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’m surprised that the working relationship has lasted so long. He’s probably had enough or too much of you. Needs a break. I expect he’ll turn up in his own good time.”

“I fear not.”

“Why?”

“The circumstances of his disappearance were… peculiar.”

For some reason Franz found this funny. He laughed then said, “Just what exactly is on your mind, Jerry. Do you want me to go and look for him?”

“No, that may not be necessary, but I’d like your opinion. Just let me explain.”

“Do, by all means.”

Jerry put his hands together in a prayerful attitude, tapped his fingers together one by one, than hauled his wheelchair round so it was exactly facing Franz. Franz supposed he was attempting to appear relaxed, but he had the same mildly embarrassed expression on his face that Franz had seen on his sister’s face a few minutes earlier.

He said, “I assume you know how we work together, Murdock and I?”

Franz had watched an episode of the comedy Murdock and Jerry were responsible for, Dead Funny Ted, set in a funeral parlor run by a doddering old fool called Edward and set in a picturesque seaside town populated almost entirely by elderly people. He had found it gormless and not the least bit funny, but he didn’t think it necessary to tell Jerry that. Besides, the public were supposed to love it. Instead he said, “I read something somewhere, in one of the TV Sunday supplements I guess, how you work as a team. About how you read the papers together in the morning in search of ideas then get down to work in the afternoon.”

Jerry nodded, “Murdock enjoys what he calls ‘our daily disaster sessions’. Always seems to be something terrible happening somewhere. You have to laugh.”

“I believe it mentioned something about that too.”

Jerry permitted himself an uneasy smile of satisfaction on hearing this. “That’s right. That gets us going. Anyway, we both have our different roles. I provide the plots and situations and Murdock handles the characterization and dialogue. Believe it or not, he’s good at jokes. Or, rather, a humorous turn of phrase. Myself, I’m less so.”

Jerry paused as though he expected Franz to make some comment. Franz didn’t so Jerry continued, “It always worked well enough for both of us. We were just about finishing up on our fifth series, you know.”

“I didn’t.”

“Yes, it’s been what you might call a runaway success.”

“That’s very good.”

“We were working on putting the finishing touches to the last episode a few days ago. Murdock was going through his paces, speaking every character’s part aloud, as he has always insisted on doing, searching about for the humor in the situation we’ve reached in the script. I had turned my chair away from him and wheeled it up to the window for some fresh air. My lungs and heart, as you know, are not good, especially in the presence of Murdock’s cigar smoke.”

“I don’t know how or why you stand it.”

“As I said, we have to work as a team, all for one and one for all. Murdock says he can’t think without a smoke and we each need the support of the other. It’s the way we get things done.”

“Humm. It once occurred to me that he uses those particularly pungent cigars to hide another more personal smell.”

“Barbara told me she sometimes has the same suspicions. She keeps her distance.”

Franz, resisting the temptation to yawn, said, “Anyway, carry on.”

“It’s going to be a bit tricky explaining the next bit. Barbara, usually so sympathetic, can’t follow me at all after this point. Anyway, see what you think.”

“You had your back to Murdock and you were looking out of the window.”

“I was doing a bit of free thinking, I call it, searching for inspiration, letting my mind wander, and was not really aware of my surroundings. While I was daydreaming I realised that Murdock’s voice had stopped and the room had fallen very silent. Even when he’s not mumbling away to himself Murdock fidgets about and makes noises. He giggles to himself and coughs and sighs a lot. I couldn’t hear a thing from him so I looked round to see if he was alright.”

“And he wasn’t.”

“No, he really wasn’t. He wasn’t there at all.”

“He’d left the room.”

“He certainly wasn’t in it. It took me just a few seconds to establish that fact. Then I smelt burning and that worried me, as you can imagine. I thought the house might be on fire but then I saw smoke rising from over there,” he pointed, “just where Murdock had been sitting and I found a cigar end smoldering on the carpet.”

Franz leaned forward and rested his hand on his forehead in hope of concealing the smile that he couldn’t avoid. Jerry said, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, please continue.”

“Yes, well, I had to call Barbara then, because if I reached down for it I risked falling out of my wheelchair. I mean, I could have killed myself, it was that risky. My condition is very delicate. Luckily she heard me and ran up at once.” He pulled a peculiar face, like a cautious rat sniffing the air, then said, “There’s what’s left of the cigar. I thought I’d better keep it.” He stretched out and slid a large glass ashtray towards Franz.

After giving the tray and its contents a brief inspection Franz said, “Why?”

“Did I keep it? I suppose as some sort of evidence.”

“Evidence of what? Surely, at that time it didn’t occur to you that something had gone wrong.”

“Oh yes it did. No doubt about it. There was a feeling in this room. Barbara noticed it I think, but she didn’t say anything, so as not to upset me even more, bless her.”

“She could see that you were upset, then?”

“I couldn’t hide it. And she was furious about the burnt carpet. I tried to explain but she didn’t, couldn’t, understand what had happened and I was too confused to make much sense. I mean, I wasn’t sure myself. She got the message that Murdock had gone after dropping his cigar but she wasn’t much surprised because she’s said many a time that the man was a clumsy lout.”

“Well, let’s face it, she’s not far wrong.”

Jerry looked mildly disapproving of that. “Murdock has his faults, no doubt about it, but together we bring in the money. I may not be around much longer, and there’s seven years left before the mortgage on this house is paid. I frequently have to remind Barbara of that when she criticizes Murdock.”

“Anyway, you say he’s gone missing for the moment,” Franz said.

“I said he’s vanished.”

“And you saw and heard nothing when he went?”

“Umm, well, there was a slight sound, just before I looked round and found he had gone. At least, I think so.”

Franz was tired. It had been a long, hard day in the library where he had been doing some research since it had opened at nine in the morning. He took a discrete look at his watch and found it was now almost eleven in the evening. He got out of his chair and yawned. Jerry got the message and said, “You are leaving. I’m sorry to have kept you. It was good of you to come.”

“What was it though, this sound you heard?”

Jerry sought the precise expression to describe the noise he thought he had perceived, then said, “It was like a sharp inhalation and exhalation of air.”

“Of breath?”

“Almost certainly.”

“Like a sigh, then. Perhaps Murdock’s last sigh? Or gasp?”

“It’s no joke. I’m deadly serious about this.”

“I’ll go away and think about what you’ve told me but perhaps, if Murdock really has disappeared or had some sort of accident, wouldn’t it be better to call the police?”