Chapter Text
His hands shook as he opened the plain brown wrapped package. Out of habit, he looked around, his face resembling a feral rat. There was a particular protocol he always followed to insure that he was alone. So, before he went any further, he made sure the door was locked and the window blinds were down and pulled tight. It wouldn't do for his neighbours to get nosy and he preferred to watch his collections in the near dark. Not that he ever spoke to any of his neighbours. He wasn't that type of man to be friendly and sociable, particularly given his rather odd interests.
Finally. He was ready. The final unveiling. Off went the paper, floating to the cluttered floor like a disabled kite, tape trailing like a tail. The wiry man turned the unmarked DVD over and over in his sweaty hands. There were no markings, no photos, nothing to indicate the vitreous content within, and that was also better. Nobody knew his tastes, except perhaps for his supplier, and he, or they, the man wasn't sure how many were involved with the Network, only accepted clean bills in denominations of no higher than 20 in return for the acid pleasure that he was about to watch.
He hadn't always been like this, an addict searching for a fix so he could entertain his dark and disturbing fantasies. He used to watch mainstream stuff, always with blondes, sometimes with pregnant women. But like most good men who start out Christian, somehow, between the booze and the bitter, he got sidetracked and here he was. Speaking of pregnant women! His pulse did a thing and he sat down abruptly. Oh and what a thrill would it be if this very disc had a pregnant woman on it! He felt his heart pound a bit harder in anticipation and with some resolve, loaded the DVD into his player.
As always, as was the case in the other three DVD's he had purchased, the first minutes were static. He leaned forward and squinted, licking his lips as he anticipated what was to come. Sure enough, it didn't disappoint him. The first scene was that of an older looking blonde woman, still quite thin for her age. She sported an impressive rack. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the camera follow her as she sashayed down the street. She paused, lit a cigarette, and threw the match into the debris at the curb. The smoke was enveloping her and the tip of the cigarette was reddish gold in the darkness where the street light didn't reach. Suddenly, a man pulled at her from behind, an arm firmly around her neck. The cigarette floated down to the ground as she was carried off kicking but not screaming due to the rag stuffed into her open mouth.
Static briefly and then the stone walled sanctuary of death. The man chuckled as he wondered exactly what the thoughts were of the captive woman. Was she thinking she would try to escape? To bargain with her captors? Did she actually think she was going to walk out of that very room? These options, he thought, were not likely.
The camera was steady and showed her tied to a chair, her eyes wide. As the lens zoomed in for a close up, the reflection in her glossy wide teary eyeballs showed a man wearing a hood approaching her. He held a small Medieval looking axe of some sort with hard metal spikes sticking out of it. She tried to scream but it was muffled in the gag. Her shirt came off in one strong pull, popping the buttons that held it on her body. The man watching was breathing hard now, excited but not yet at his limit. That would come later, no pun intended, for this was just the beginning of a macabre foreplay of a sick and dangerously twisted mind. It was his guilty pleasure, his obsessions, his homecoming. The man rubbed the gathering sweat off his furrowed brow and reached up to turn off the light.
***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** ***** *****
Henry Morgan pulled the small chain on his desk lamp and turned it on. All was quiet, so he thought he'd take a little time and work on his pet project, which was trying to figure out the mystery of his own apparent immortality. He jokingly called himself a student of death, which was appropriate considering he was the chief medical examiner of the city of New York. A man who could not die, surrounding himself every day with the corpses of those who had died unusual or seemingly inexplicable deaths. No, correction to that, he mused, it's not that he could not die; in fact he was quite good at dying. The mystery was why he could not stay dead, and after over 200 years, it was a mystery he was hoping to solve. Not to die, no, he wasn't exactly anxious to die, but instead to just break they mystery and go on living a normal life. To experience the cycle of life, as he had explained to Abe a couple of weeks before.
The thought of Abe sparked the memory of another recent conversation they had had, near the conclusion of a case Abe had unwittingly gotten himself entangled in. What were Abe's words? "I worry about you; I worry about who's going to take care of you when I'm gone." It was something they rarely spoke of, the fact that Abe, who was Henry's son that he adopted at the end of World War II, was growing older, and while he was healthy as a horse, they both knew Abe had far fewer days ahead of him than lay behind him. Henry plunked down in his chair, heaving out a huge sigh and rubbing his face with the palms of both hands. It was something they should talk about, wasn't it? Abe was the only person who knew his secret. No, correction to that, Detective Jo Martinez had seen him die (here ) and so he had revealed the truth to her. But Abe was the person he relied on for decades to come find him when he emerged from the water, sputtering, chilled, and stark naked. Henry sat and let the waves of dread wash over him as he contemplated being along and on his own again, as it seemed he had been for most of the almost 250 years he had been alive. His eyes roamed over his cozy--his own description--laboratory in the basement of the old building housing Abe's Antiques and their large flat/apartment. He'd end up having to move on, to disappear and to re-invent himself some place else. Where he had never contemplated, and at this moment his mind refused to even toy with suggestions. So much to do, when the time came. The shop would need to be sold, contents and all, the flat as well, and then there was the problem of what to do with his personal belongings...
Upstairs, the vintage 1960's phone that was on Abe desk in the shop rang. Henry cocked an ear and counted. Eight rings before they hung up. The shop's answering machine must not have been turned on, so maybe whoever it was would call their flat and leave a message. Time to get to work, now that the phone had broken his somewhat morbid train of thought. He was just finding his place in his work when the shop's old phone started ringing again, and again eight times. Persistent, whoever it was. When the ringing started up again, Henry gpt up and ran up the stiars two at a time. There is persistent, and then there is obsessive!
"Hello?"
"Hey, Henry? Hey, it's Joe Landon! Where's Abe? The team is waiting for him!"
Henry frowned. "Team?"
"Yeah, it's league night, we need him!"
"He wasn't here when I got home from work; I just assumed he'd already left."
"Well, that's a fine how do ya do! Guess we'll have to bowl without him. When he gets in, you give him an earful from me and the boys, OK?"
Henry placed the receiver back into the cradle and stood staring at the old phone for a few seconds. It certainly wasn't like Abe to forget bowling league night, and he hadn't seen any note from him telling him he'd gone elsewhere or had had a change of plans. A niggle of worry crept into the back of his mind. Maybe he should go out, along Abe's usual route to the bowling alley, and see if maybe he'd had car trouble or something had happened. Car accident? Detour? Or what if it was...
"Hey, what are you doing standing in the dark?" Abe opened the door to the shop and switched on one opf the lights. He had several cloth shopping bags with him, and Henry could see vegetables and fruits, a bakery bag, and other items sticking out of them.
"Where have you been? Joe just called, they're waiting for you at the bowling alley!"
"Bowling alley? Oh thanks!" Abe grinned his thanks at Henry for taking one of the heavy shopping bags.
"Yes, it's Tuesday night, Abe, it's league night!"
"Oh. Oh crap, so it is!"
"Look, you just grab your bowling bag and go, I'll call Joe back." Once he got Abe out the door and on his way, Henry called Joe. "It's Henry. Abe is on his way. He got delayed at the grocery store." Hanging up, Henry winced. He'd never had to lie for Abe before, and it bothered him considering Abe seemed to have forgotten what day it was! That and the fact that he had done the grocery shopping the day before.