Accidents Will Happen

Chapter 9

     Detective Bucci leapt out of the police wagon before the tires stopped rolling. Lieutenant Henderson met him on the University steps, a sheet of paper waving from his fingertips.

“I got the warrant to search the place. Judge Bean wasn't too happy about it. I interrupted him in the middle of his dinner party.”

“Tough, the old man needs a few less calories anyway.” Bucci mumbled, grabbing the warrant from the young officer's hand. “Come on, we gotta find this guy Tim Leere before he gets away with the evidence.”

The two men hustled up the cement steps leading to the science building.  Bucci recognized the merri-cupola vine engraved on the mammoth door.  

Just a few yards in front of them, hurrying from the front staircase, a balding man toting a laptop, was shooting sinister looks their way.

“Hey Mister,” Bucci yelled. “Can you point us in the direction of the chem lab?”

“Chemistry?” The man asked as he pawed his straggly hair. His eyes darted from side to side as he fidgeted with the keys he pulled from his coat pocket.   “Upstairs, second floor, room 282.”

     Bucci and the Lieutenant took the steps two by two. The hall upstairs was nearly empty as they rushed down the corridor, finally arriving at their destination. Bursting inside they were disappointed to see no one in the lab and obvious signs that someone had made a frantic effort to destroy possible evidence. Their murder investigation was about to escalate.

Meet the author of this segment: Linda Sawicki loves to write and has done so all her life. She has recently published her first YA novel, "And The Fifth Element Is Fear," available on Amazon.com. She also participated in a collection of stories included in "Hapless Halloween - Twenty five Twisted Tales of Terror abd Suspense " (Amazon.com e-book.) Visit her at Lindasawicki.com or e-mail her at linda25247@yahoo.com



Accidents Will Happen

Chapter 8

Detective Bucci slammed his palm on the metal interrogation table.  “Miss Evans, I need to know where you got the drugs you took.  The lab says that in normal LSD, less than one percent of the,” Bucci paused to look at his notes, “lie-sir-gick acids, something like that, cross the blood-brain barrier.  They estimate that what you took allows over twenty-five percent, perhaps as high as forty, to cross.  According to the lab, there is no way to anticipate which brain receptors will be blocked and which will not.  While I don’t fully understand what they’re talking about, they say it is extremely dangerous.

“According to the head of the lab, if this gets into the population, it can bring down entire cities.  It could easily contaminate a water supply.  He thinks it could be released as a mist in the air. Where – did – you – get – it?”

Jessica looked at the detectives.  There was only one when the interview started, but now there were two – no, three of him.  Somehow, that didn’t seem fair.  There were only two Rogers in the room with her.  But, they both smiled at her, so she felt a little better.  The Rogers would protect her.

“Jessica, please.  This is vital.  We need to know.”

Eyes closed, her head lolled.  When she finally looked up, both Rogers smiled and nodded.  She smiled back, then turned to the Detective.  “My ex-boyfriend, Tim Leere, gave them to me.  He’s doing post grad work in the University's bio-chem department.  He’s such a sweetie,”

The words were slurred to the extent that it took Detective Bucci a moment to decipher them.  When he did, he rushed out of the interrogation room without closing the door, shouting to someone at a desk to the right.

“Get a hold of Judge Bean.  I need a search warrant.  Move, man!  I need it yesterday.”

Meet the author of this chapter: S. Arthur Yates follows the mantra "If it's reality, I didn't write it." He only writes short stories (and  very few poems.) In fact, he generally takes short as a challenge. He has been published in the international as well as  domestic markets. His longest and shortest stories can be found in "Hapless Halloween - Twenty Five Twisted Tales of Terror and Suspense" (available at Amazon.com for $.99) or follow his blog at writings by say.com.

Accidents Happen

Chapter 7

He may disappear if I look away or blink.

 She rubbed her palms against the cell’s cold concrete floor, seeking the reassurance of hard reality. As Jessica continued to stare, Roger morphed into two Rogers. Both specters laughed while streams of bright colors darted from their heads, decorating their skulls with pointed coronas.

 “Roger…you’re dead.” It seemed the Rogers needed instruction on their current status.

“No no Lassie. Remember? We were in the kitchen rehearsing the scene where I play Othello to your Desdemona and stab myself with the knife - a fitting bit of drama we had planned for my guests. Just a bit o’ fun.”  He grinned. Jessica began to shake.

Someone must have switched the prop knife for the real one. Who? Why? Jessica’s thoughts returned to the moment in the kitchen when Roger had thrust the knife into his chest and had fallen to the floor with exaggerated pathos. Terrified, she ran to his side and yanked the knife out of his wound as blood pumped onto the floor and pooled around her knees.

 “I’m not dead.” Roger’s chuckle brought her back.

“Yes you are. The knife blade was supposed to slide up into the handle and disappear, but it didn’t!” She lowered her head and moaned.

Jessica crawled along the floor, inching her way to the Rogers. They didn’t move as she dragged herself through them. When she reached the opposite wall and turned around, the pair was gone. She heard herself laugh as if from a distance and wondered what could be so funny.

Jessica’s laughter drew Detective Bucci to her cell. Looking down on the sprawled prisoner, he called, “Sergeant, call the medics and tell them we’ll need a blood sample – again.”

Meet the author of this chapter:

Susan LeDoux writes nonfiction articles for the Christian market. A reporter for The Good News Newspaper , she also writes copy for churches and ministries as well as two blogs: Road to Emmaus at her website Ecclesia! (www.susanledoux.net) and here at Wordspinner at www.susan-wordspinner.blogspot.com .  Who knows, there may be a novel lurking in the back of her mind as well. Susan has taught various classes for adults through Greece Continuing Education but her most recent was “Beginner’s Guide to the Writing Life” for the newly established Rochester Brainery. 



Accidents Will Happen

Chapter 6

Jessica returned to the holding cell, heart pounding to the rhythm of her aching head. She needed her vial, and she needed it soon. That stupid detective kept her too long.

The female guard holding her arms in cuffs behind her back muttered, “Can’t believe you killed a fine poet like Professor Trevellian. I hope you rot in hell.” She released Jessica to her cell and slammed the barred door behind her.

Jessica didn’t even try to explain her side of the story. She needed to get to that vial before she passed out.

She dropped to the floor by her cot and shoved her hand into a slit in the mattress. Tiny gray dots filled her vision. “Please, no,” she whispered. Bile coated the back of her throat.

Her fingers brushed cool glass. She almost wept from relief.

She pulled out the vial, cautious not to break it in her desperation to remove it.

Her vision was going in and out now, and sweat dribbled down her temples. She uncapped the vial and slugged its contents. An icy chill swept down her throat. She slid to the floor, waiting for the potion to work its magic, praying she’d taken it in time.

 Within moments, her vision cleared. She no longer felt she might throw up. And her head stopped its incessant pounding.

She sat up, squeezed her eyes shut, and recited Robert Burns’ poem, “A Fond Kiss.”

When she opened her eyes again, Roger stood before her, smiling.

“Good job, my “wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,’” he said.

Meet the author of this chapter:                                  

Kimberly Gore Wehner writes middle grade and young adult novels, perhaps because she’s never truly grown up and always has visions of characters running around loose in her head. Like naughty children, they won’t settle down or do what they’re told. You can find her children’s book, The Miss-Adventures of Amy & Tracy: Dr. Von Thistle’s Curious Concoction, on-line, and follow her personal ventures into the past on: www.klgore.com.



Accidents Will Happen

Chapter 5

Doris arrived at the police station early where she waited for Bucci outside his office. Right on schedule, he came out to greet her, then ushered her into a small room with a table and two chairs.

            When Doris asked why she was being questioned yet again, the detective answered, “Standard operating procedure. I’m just trying to tie up some loose ends.”

            His questions, seemingly perfunctory at first, started to unsettle her when they became more probing and intrusive.

            “Jessica Evans is in custody.  I don’t see how any of this is relevant,” Doris said when Bucci asked her about a recent vacation she and Roger had taken to Hawaii.

            “Well, Mrs. Trevellian, I’m not entirely convinced that Jessica Evans acted alone or even that she is necessarily guilty of anything other than ingesting an illegal substance.”

            “That’s ridiculous. Every guest at the party saw her after… after…”  Doris choked on the words, a tear running down her cheek as she pulled a tissue from her purse.

            Ignoring her distress, the detective continued. “I’m sure you’re aware that your husband recently took out a five-million-dollar life insurance policy on himself.” 

            Caught in Bucci’s unflinching stare, Doris wanted to jump up and run out of the miniscule, windowless room. He was suffocating her with his hot breath and insinuations. Clearly, he was studying her body language, listening to her voice, and assessing her reaction to every comment and question. Could I be a suspect? she wondered.    

            Doris’ cell phone rang and she silently thanked whoever it was on the other end. She excused herself and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind her.

            “Hello.”

            “Do you believe in the afterlife, Doris? Where will we spend eternity?”

            “Conan, is that you?”

            The line went dead.  

Meet the author of this chapter: When Liz Voll is not writing short stories, she is teaching chemistry at Monroe Community College. Her fiction tends toward the romantic, touched with humor and a twist.