Today is another Friday Special, that means Kyle and I will be doing something special every friday. Last friday we had a guest Katie Jares who submitted a very well written story about the mundaneness of life and how fast it can change. Today, Kyle and I are posting our longer stories that we have been working on. Mine is the start of mystery novel which I hope to continue writing on and have several in the series, in fact I already have ideas for more of the novels that will be tied in here on the blog. So please enjoy.
Royalty
I
was there, in the Bahamas, lying under the shade of a giant umbrella while a
smaller one bobbed in my daiquiri. The sunglasses that rested on my face hid my
critical glare from the rest of the beach. Most of my attention was drawn to
the ladies, who after sunbathing for hours, decided to play a game of
volleyball or take a dip in the crystal clear water. It was the first moment of
peace I could remember having in a long time. I couldn’t quite hide the grin
that crept over my face, betraying my somewhat creepy fascination. Leaning back
I watch the clouds rolls across the sky with the breeze. How did I get here
again? Struggling to find an answer, I decided to bring the daiquiri to my lips
when the beach began to tremble. There was a ringing in my ears and a crack
appeared where the volleyball game once was. The ground groaned as gasses
escaped the crevice grew as it raced towards me. The water began to engulf the
now empty beach, everyone else had long since gone. Paralyzed, I watched as the
calamity unfolded, I was going to die. The ground separated and I was plunged
into darkness.
I
awoke with a start from my nightmare to deafening blows on my door. My hangover
left me stumbling out of bed. The urge to vomit came over me again explaining why
my dream had taken such a violent turn. The chaos of the room became an
obstacle in my state; I slipped on a dirty t-shirt and crashed to the floor.
Getting up, I scrambled for my robe to cover my indecency. Continuing into the
defiled living room my feet push pass the piles of beer cans. Wrestling with
the sleeves I fall over a misplaced chair from the party the night before. The
commotion woke up King who’s first instinct was to rush over on his stubby
corgi legs and assist me in getting up by licking my now vulnerable face.
“King, calm down. I’m okay,” I say as I swept up my shattered ego off the
floor. Careful now, I make my way through the disaster area that was my beach
home to my front door. I was about to investigate the cause of the alarm when the
question answered for me.
“Newport
Police, open up!”
My
heart ripped in two, half jumping into my throat and the other plummeting into
my stomach. Whatever was left of my mind went into overdrive, and adrenaline
flooded my system. Peeking through the peep hole I could see the two in blue
clearly. One was a brute of a man who could only grow hair on his upper lip,
the second, dwarfed by the size of his partner, stood impatiently. What could
they want with me? It couldn’t be the party could it? No, there has to be
something else. Demetri better not be in the back of that squad car. Jack
breathe you know better than this. My only option is to open that door and put
on a show for them.
I opened
the door slowly, “Can I help you?” I say meekly. Now with the door open I could
clearly see their nametags: Harmon and Payne. Payne was the larger of the two;
he stood silent and gawked for a moment. His shirt was wrinkled and stained giving
the appearance that he was still new on the job. Harmon struggled to push Payne
out of the way to no avail; Harmon was clean cut and clearly a ladies man, to
bad his bulletproof vest did most of the work. I restrained the urge to visibly
show my apathy that existed in that moment.
“I’m
Deputy Harmon and this is my partner Payne, we would like to ask you some
question.” Harmon said finally pushing past the behemoth.
I
couldn’t take the hang over much longer, maybe if I ditched these two dopes I
could get that bottle of scotch. “Could you come back later?” I started to
close the door, “I am very busy at the moment as you can see, you two have a
nice day.”
“Hold
on there,” Harmon pushed back with more force that I did not think he possessed.
“This isn’t optional Mr.-”
“Doctor.
Dr. Royal. I didn’t go through 8 years of school for nothing.” The pair were
thrown off by my curt response, but I could care less. My options were
dwindling. I had nothing to hide and it will probably be hard enough for them
to find anything anyways. If I wanted them gone, I was going to have to humble
them. It is hard to pick up on people’s interests when they wear a uniform,
which means I have to rely on generalizations. I had to say something fast,
“Alright then, come on in gentlemen, can I interest you in coffee or something
to eat?”
“I
would love something to eat!” Payne said finding his voice at the sound of
food. Bingo, that’s all I needed. Harmon elbowed him, but Payne had already
made his way inside.
“Sounds
great. Anyway, why don’t you two grab some of the cushions strewn across the
room and sit down on the couch? I will be right back.”
“Wait,”
Harmon began to protest, “you can’t just leave.”
But
I was already gone and headed toward the kitchen. They can figure it out. One cushion
underneath the couch; two on top of the bookcase, the last might have been in
the guest bathroom but I wasn’t sure. Navigating my way around The Fallen
plants without much thought on my way toward the kitchen; noting the pieces of
art that had fallen asymmetrically, who says they need to be straight. The
kitchen must have been ground zero for the party. Bottles of cheap liquor were
strewn about; plastic cups formed random patterns on all surfaces. I couldn’t
quite tell if the majority of the food I provided ended up in people’s stomachs
or on the floor. The disgusting chocolate fountain has dried up but that hasn’t
quite stopped the pump from trying.
I
spy some rolls that happened to not get eaten from the night before. Waste not,
want not, they always say; although this is mostly out of convenience. I
decided for a new batch of coffee while the oven heated up. The appearance of
hospitality is half the battle; a hot meal will have them favoring me more
warmly. On mornings like this I couldn’t help but grab my favorite coffee mug,
it had an “I heart Psych” logo with the heart replaced by the Greek psi; the
other two wouldn’t matter much but I chose cooler colors just in case.
Preparing my mug with brown sugar, heavy cream and … Irish Whisky. Where could
it be? That’s when I see the bottle lying there on the floor, taunting me. Drunken
Jack didn’t always make the best decisions for Hangover Jack. However I had a
chance, I kept a secret stash in my study not far from the kitchen. With the
rolls warming in the oven and the coffee brewing I slipped out into the hall
towards the study.
My
study is the only room off limits in a party, usually locked with my keys.
Which were in the door. This is a problem, I opened the door slowly, unknowing
what lye inside. When did they get my keys, more importantly who took them?
Breathe and the lights go on. My eyes were instantly drawn to my thinking couch,
the cushions were ruffled up with clothes hanging on for dear life. They
didn’t. My extensive library was now on the floor. I struggled to contain
myself, concentrating on the task at hand. Careful not disturb the temporary
slumber of my books I made my way to my desk. Nothing was sacred to these people;
I was going to need to sanitize everything. Opening the second drawer on the
right side, I lifted out the false bottom to reveal a stainless steel flask.
With that in hand I made my way out of the depressing room.
By
the time I made it back to the kitchen to pull the rolls out of the oven with
perfect timing. The coffee would soon finish up, the last bit of water passing
through the grounds. There are not a lot of people stupid enough to pull
something off such as hooking up in my study; the fit and style seemed to
indicate one person, Demetri. Demetri was not really a friend more of a
nuisance, someone who for whatever reason pops up at my parties with out being
invited. He can’t seem to control himself around alcohol, generally devolving
into a naked mess and creating chaos. Usually putting a damper on everyone
else’s fun. This is the last straw. But this doesn’t do me any good now.
Finishing
up the platter for my ‘guests’ I didn’t know how much more time Harmon would
allow me to evade them. Down the hall I could hear their conversation.
“Hey,
Harmon this place sure is a piece of work, this has to be the dirtiest house I
have seen in a while.” Payne said a little too loud.
“That
is pretty impressive coming from you Payne.” Harmon responded.
“Sorry for letting the doctor get
distracted earlier.” Payne lamented. “I let my stomach get the best of me.”
“Forget
about it. We could use a break from high society. Besides the search has turned
up nothing special so far,” Harmon said. “But where could that guy have gone?”
That’s
my cue. I appeared from the hallway, “Gentlemen I am back,” I anounced, “I
apologize for the wait.” Strolling over to where they sat I pushed trash off
the coffee table onto the floor. Taking my coffee and a roll, I sat down. “What
can I help you with gentlemen?” They looked at each other and nodded. Harmon
pulled out a photo from one of the many utility pockets on his person.
“Have
you seen this man recently?” Harmon asked handing the photo to me.
It
was a headshot of a sickly man; his hair and face were greasy and wild. Even
though they were closed it seems like his eyes were popping out the sockets.
His nose was a little too large for the small size of his head. He was lying on
the sand and he seemed to be soaked. Strange, there was a small red dot mark on
his neck. What you couldn’t tell from the picture was he had; Bipolar disorder,
anxiety, and schizophrenia. He has a problem with taking his meds and listening
to authority. I should know I am his psychiatrist. This could be bad, having a
patient dead even if it isn’t your fault can be bad. I might need to bring
Amber in on this.
“Neil
Connor, he is one of my patients. Guessing from the photo that he is no longer
in need of my services,” I said handing it back.
“Indeed,
he was found dead this morning. He washed up on shore about a mile south of
here. What kind of doctor are you again Dr. Royal?” Harmon inquired.
“I
specialize in Psychiatric Medicine; most of my patients are high profile cases
around the area. Recently as a favor to a friend I took on Neil.” I said.
“When
did you last see Neil?” asked Harmon.
It
was hard, but the fuzzy memory of the night before came back in waves.
The
music was loud and when mixed with the lights, bodies were moving. I was going
around checking how people were doing. Food and drink were flowing. From the
back porch with the hot tub to the game room with poker, everyone was having the
time of their life. Amber had found me talking to an old friend from college and
asked me to the front door. This is where I find Neil. He acted excessively paranoid;
always looking around, not only that but he was shaking almost violently. The
loud music and people must have bothered him immensely.
“How
are you doing Neil? Can I get you anything?” I asked patting him on the back
for assurance.
“You
gotta help me Dr. Royal, someone is going to kill me.” He said grabbing at my
clothes.
“Neil,
you need to calm down no one is trying to kill you. Why don’t you take your
medication?” I say attempting to pry his hands off of me.
“I
can’t take the pills, the pills are the problem man. He knows when I take my
pills.” Neil was becoming more upset.
“Calm
down, Neil, it’s okay. Are you sure you don’t want a drink or join the party
while you are here?” I asked as I gestured into the party. It was at this point
that Neil’s face lost all color. He jerked away from me.
“This
was a bad idea, I have to go.” Neil said dashing out the door. In a moment he
was gone.
“I
had no idea it was real, and someone was actually try to kill him. Schizos get
those feelings all the time.” I explained finishing my story.
“Well
the threat was very much real. Would you mind if we searched your apartment Dr.
Royal? Orders and all that.” Harmon asked as he finished writing in his note
pad.
“Not
at all, mi casa es su casa, as I always say.”
I never say that. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.” Not like they will mess
it up more anyways.
“Thank
you, we will be out of your hair shortly.” Harmon turned to Payne they got up
and began their search. In the mean time I laid my head back and closed my
eyes. I finally had time to myself.
I
grew up here in Newport; to say my family is well off is an understatement. It
was mostly luck that my great grandfather bought an old mine that turned out to
have oil reserves underneath it. Since then we expanded to other industries
such as hotel, and land development. The Royal’s fit right in with society here
in Newport; yacht clubs to wine tasting, we were everywhere. So it came as a
surprise when I told my father that I would be pursuing a Ph.D. in Psychiatry,
he expected me to take over the family business. But I thought differently. I
decided to use my family’s connections to start up my own practice, creating a
network of high profile clients, in doing so I am able to charge more for my
services.
Recent
statistics in Psychiatry have touted that 50% of the world’s population will
have some sort of mental disorder in their lifetime. To say this is a bit
exaggerated is an understatement. Throughout life people encounter mental
stress, a recent trend in Psychiatry is to over diagnose this into disorder.
This isn’t necessarily a good thing; in fact it might be hurting the field as a
whole. Should I be more concerned about this? Sure but it is hard to fight the
status quo and there isn’t a simple answer to why we do it. I on the other hand
abuse it, making people with a lot of money believe they have mental problems
is a lot easier than it sounds. I give them Peace of Mind and help them with
smaller day-to-day problems but I am not doing any real psychiatry that uses
the Cognitive Behavior Therapy learned in school. Somewhere along the line it
turned into a con game.
I
was in another dream when Payne grabbed my arm startling me awake. He stood me
upright and flipped me around to hold my hands behind my back. What is going
on? Payne effortlessly held me still as he clicked the handcuffs in place.
Harmon read my Miranda rights. I attempted to struggle against the gorilla that
held me behind my back to no avail. Obviously I missed something. It was
probably the large water safe bag with several full bottles of medications and
an empty syringe would probably do it. Now I am officially fucked. “What is
going on? What is that bag doing here?” I asked panic settling in.
“We
found this in your bathroom, hidden in the toilet basin. The syringe matches
the murder weapon used on Neil Connor. You are under arrest for his homicide
and suspected black-market drug activity.” Harmon said as the pair began to
carry me out to their squad car.
“But
I was framed; I had nothing to do with it. I swear!” I said as they sealed my
fate by closing the door on my face.
The
sun was blinding outside as I watched the squad car roll past the beach.
Longing for the warm hug of the sand on your toes and the sizzling kisses from
the sun, I watched paradise slip past. The dignity and self-respect that I once
had was gone; now replaced by embarrassment and anger. I had a lot of time to
think in the back of the squad car. What was my next move? Who framed me? What
did Neil get into that he was murdered? This has to be the worst day of my
life. Prescription pills and an empty syringe, and how did they make it into my
apartment. I had absolutely nothing, but I did have Amber Knight.
Amber
Knight is one of my longest friends; she might as well be family. A quick wit
with an even sharper tongue, Always right beside or one step ahead she was the
one that could get me out of any sticky situation, like that time in Mexico, New York, oh and god that Cruise in the
Mediterranean. This is different. I am being accused of murder of my own
patient not drugs, theft, or public intoxication. She got us out of everything,
which is why she is such a great lawyer. Even if I am being framed I have no
idea what the American Psychological Association is going to say. If word gets
out I am done for; not only my license to practice be taken away, so will my
credibility as a Psychiatrist. I have to take care of this quick. The weight of
the implications started to fall on my shoulders, breathe.
“Are
you comfortable back there Dr. Murderer?” Harmon started giggling at his own
stupid joke as Payne drove.
“Oh
yeah I am right at home, but I was wondering if you guys wouldn’t mind stopping
for some donuts, don’t worry I got this one.” The roll I ate turns violently in
my stomach mixing with the Irish coffee. I close my eyes and try to steady
myself.
“You
would like that wouldn’t you but we are already approaching the station,” Payne
said.
I
could feel the squad car slow down and pull up into a parking lot. Pulling in
front of the police station I open my eyes. Payne took his sweet time pulling
me back to me feet, and then walked on briskly. I struggled to keep my slippers
on my wobbly feet. My only option was to go with the flow. I need to stay as
quiet as possible, ‘anything I say or do can be used against me in a court of
law.’ The welcome comity wasn’t impressive. They took prints and a mug shot,
every single cop laughed as they interacted with me. A killer in a bathrobe.
I
used to have everything together. My name meant something. In school the
weekend was Thursday through Sunday. Either by miracle or luck I succeeded in
making A’s and finishing grad school in one go. It is not like I didn’t deserve
it; I worked hard for it and used my charisma, intelligence, rationality and a
great understanding of the human mind.
Do I have some bad habits? Sure. Let’s just say I like to fill my time,
and things come easy.
After
processing I was finally able to make my phone call. I picked up the phone, and
eyed the cop that directed me there for a moment, “Mind backing up for a
private conversation?” He hesitated but I held my glare until he relented. I
summoned my courage as I punched in the numbers and waited for her to answer.
“You
better have a good reason for calling this early on a Saturday,” came from the
phone.
“Its
11:21 a.m. you bum. It’s me Jack; I have a problem and kind of need a favor.”
“This
better not be one of your crazy methods of getting me over to your place to
help you clean.”
“Not
exactly, this is a little bit of a bigger favor. It kind of involves the
police.”
“Did
you go on a drunk rampage on the beach again?”
“Even
worse than that. Do you want to know now or when you get to the police
station?”
An
audible sigh came from the other end, “Just tell me.”
“I
have been framed for murdering one of my patients.”
“I’ll
be there in 30 minutes, don’t do anything stupid.” She was gone.
The
guard must have seen me hanging up the phone because he slowly strolled over.
“Come on, back to your cell.”
