Bloodied Mary- Chapter 1

Chapter One

I like arriving at my clients just before they decide to call me. It's a party trick really, but it usually impresses them and sets the tone for my visit. In this case, it was probably for the best, seeing as my client wasn't exactly in the right state of mind to remember where she'd put my business card. When I opened the door to her home, ringing the doorbell as I did, she was shaking, holding a gun out at arms length. She spun to aim at me, terrified, then spun back to face her living room. My view was blocked as to who or what exactly was there, but apparently it was more worrisome to her then a strange man entering her home uninvited. Not out of the question, based on what she'd told my assistant when they'd met last week.

I walked through the doorway slowly, not yet making any quick judgements. I try to enter every case assuming nothing, and so far I hadn't seen enough to make a decision. Either something had gone very wrong with this woman's husband very fast, in which case he probably wasn't too dangerous if he was being held at bay with a simple pistol, or something... unexpected had happened. I like unexpected. It's what let me get as far as I have, doing what I love- poking around and meeting interesting people. I was ready for something bad when I came into view of what was in the living room, but it didn't seem like too much- two identical men, wearing different variations on business casual, standing on opposite sides of the living room. The woman- Alice, I assumed, based on what my assistant had told me- was shakily pointing her gun, first at one, then at the other, at the slightest movement. I noticed a few holes in the wall above the twins' heads- warning shots, I could only presume.

Once I'd taken in the atmosphere of the room, I spoke. "Mrs. Alice Funderson, I presume? My name is Dee Emeritas. I believe you had a meeting with my assistant last week?" The woman kept her watering eyes on the men, along with the gun's sights, but responded

"Y-yes, that's me. Are you- can you help?"

One of the men shifted, then flinched as she turned the gun on him.

"I don't know- I can't-"

I stepped forward and gently took hold of the gun.

"Listen, Mrs. Funderson, Alice- why don't you just lower the gun? That's good. Here, give it to me. Now you two-"

I gestured at the two identical men still in submissive positions.

"Mr. and Mr. Funderson, I suppose. Why don't you on the left sit on that couch- yes, right there, and you on the right- come with me into the kitchen. Alice- are you alright with staying with this one for a minute?"

She was trembling, but seemed to be calming down slightly. She shook her head though, and whispered

"I don't want to be all alone by myself with either of them."

"Very well. Then you come with me into the kitchen. And you, left one- stay right there."

I escorted both Alice and a man with 50% chance to be her husband into the kitchen. From my satchel, I pulled out a pair of handcuffs, and fastened one side around the refrigerator handle. I started fastening the other around the man's hand, and as I did I spoke to him.

"Listen to me, no, don't try to speak, you'll only be damning yourself. Right now, there are two possibilities- either you're real, or the other one of you is. If it's you and you try to escape, I'll kill you. If it's you and you stay put, I'll take care of whatever it is that's caused you this trouble, and reunite you with your wife here. If it ISN'T you, though, things get more interesting. If you're fake and stay put, like the good little demon or spirit or monster or whatever you are, I'll bring you with me when I leave, and you'll live. If you try to escape though... well, I might kill you accidentally, but if I don't, you'll live. For longer than you might like. Understand?"

The key to so many problems you may have in life is to sound more confident than you really are, even when you have no clue what's going on or what you should do next.

After I secured the first Mr. Funderson, I went back to the living room. The second one, whom I'd mentally labeled Lefty, started getting up from the couch, but I gestured for him to remain seated. I pulled a thick armchair over, and sat down, while Alice hovered behind me. I still held her gun, and held it, not directly threateningly, by my knee.

"Now then... You are Mr. Funderson, yes?"

The man looked nervous, but that was to be expected. He was quick to respond though,

"Yes, Funderson. Harry Funderson. That's my wife. Listen, please, I don't know who or what that other guy is, but you've got to..."

I held the gun to his forehead, and he shut up. Behind me, I heard Alice gasp, or maybe whimper a bit, I'm not too sure. Maybe she wasn't used to such immediate threats. Tough. I'd been bitten by holding back before.

"Alice? Do me a favor and ask Harry here something only he would know."

She stepped cautiously forward until she was level with Lefty, or 'Harry 1' as I'd revised his name. She knelt down and whispered in his ear, before I interrupted.

"I need to hear this as well, please."

She nodded, and swallowed before continuing, in a rote way, as if she'd memorized the phrasing.

"What was the first thing you said to me after we woke up the day after our wedding?"

Harry smiled.

"I said that how I felt that one morning would be worth a lifetime of arguements about the dishes."

She looked at me, and smiled hesitantly, but I leaned forward, gun still pressed to Harry's forhead, and began asking some questions of my own.

"Mr. Funderson, when were you born?"

"July third, nineteen eighty three."

"And where was this?"

"Rochester."

"What's your middle name?"

"Thomas."

"And your wife's?"

"Sheela."

"Mr. Funderson, what did you eat for breakfast this morning?"

"Same as every day- toast and eggs."

"Whose clothes are you wearing?"

"Well, mine."

"מאי טעמא דחזית ליה תרי?" (Roughly translated, Why are you seeing double?)

"I'm sorry? I don't understand."

I inwardly winced- one major possibility removed, although I'd have to double check with the one chained up in the kitchen. Most demonic forces spoke Aramaic, and could be tricked into revealing themselves with an unexpected question. Even if this was the real Harry, my working theory had been demonic possession followed by impersonation, and possession often leads subconcious traces in the mind. Time to try a different tack.

I pulled the gun away, and settled into a relaxed, casual demeanor.

"What I meant to say, Harry, was why don't you explain to me, in your own words, exactly why there are two of you currently in this house- especially after your wife reported you acting strangely for the past month or so."

He paused to gather his thoughts. He was taking this remarkably in stride, I noticed.

"When I got home from work today, my wife was in here, talking to- whatever that thing in the kitchen is. I started shouting at it, but it yelled back at me, about who I was and what I was doing here. We started shoving each other, and my wife ran upstairs to get my gun. She screamed at both of us to get back and shut up, and shot the wall a few times, so we did. I don't know what else to tell you- I don't mess with the supernatural, the closest I get is a coworker of mine who died a few years ago, but Jessie wouldn't do something like this."

I was silent for a minute, letting him stew. Inside, I had no idea what I should try next, but I let him think I was merely biding my time. Eventually, I said

"I think that will do for now. I'm afraid that, for your own protection, I'll haave to lock you in the bathroom for now, until I complete my investigation."

He started protesting,

"No! You can't lock me in the bathroom! It's awful in there, the toilet's backed up and it stinks!"

"Very well. Where would you like to be locked up then? I'm afraid I only have one set of handcuffs with me, so your choices are limited to rooms with locks on the doors."

"The bedroom, then. It's more comfortable, at least."

"Very well. Mrs. Funderson? While I secure your potential husband, would you mind taking this key and escorting the other one here? You can bring the gun with you, if you're still concerned for your safety."

She stiffened, and looked at the man I was still unsure about. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him give her a slight nod, and she responded

"Alright."

So, she trusted him after so simple an examination? Foolish, I thought. But I was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt- perhaps she had some wifely sense that told her whether he was her real husband or not. Or perhaps she didn't. It was all the same to me, since in either case it meant that by the time I got back from locking Harry 1 in the master bedroom, Harry 2 was sitting on the couch, Alice nervously holding the gun to the back of his head. I sat down, and asked all the same questions from before, with identical answers. Chillingly identical.

To be honest, at this point in most investigations I'd have a lead, or at least an idea of what to do next. In this case though, I was at a loss. I banished Harry 2 back to the kitchen, then sat Mrs. Funderson down in his stead. Think confident thoughts.

"So, Alice, why don't you elaborate on the curious behavious you noticed in your husband this past month, the ones you told my assistant about?"

She chewed her lip for a second or two, then looked into my eyes.

"To be honest, I can't remember anything specifically. It was mostly- you know, little things. Things he'd say, or the exact impression he'd have on his face in the morning. I don't know."

I raised an eyebrow, and pulled out my notebook and pen.

"Really? No details you can give me? Think hard, any tiny detail might be important."

She shrugged. Curious. Just in the abridged notes my assistant had given me, there had been mentions of whispers in the night, strange probing questions, a weird bad smell, and an extended sick leave from work she suspected he was faking. At the time, I'd thought possession was the most likely explanation, but now, I had to check for a different one. And finding it hinged on my next question.

"Well, Mrs. Funderson, I believe I can confidently state that I know which of the two men is your real husband. But before I take care of that matter-"

I raised my hand, which was covered in ink.

"I believe my pen is leaking. Do you mind if I quickly wash my hands?"

She looked a bit surprised at the sudden gear change, but responded

"Oh, yes, obviously of course. The kitchen is-"

I interrupted

"I'd rather not enter the kitchen yet, seeing who or what is in there. I'll just pop into the bathroom. Don't worry-"

She rose to protest, and I raised my hand.

"I'll hold my breath and be quick."