<
<
The drive back to Phineas' apartment is quiet and peaceful. Sephar is silent in his pocket.
Phineas checks his answering machine, then says to Sephar, "Think Venezuela is done the exam
yet?"
Sephar squeaks, "Probably... she's very enthusiastic about that sort of thing. You could call and
ask if you want."
Phineas nods and does so, he picks up the phone, "What's the number?"
Sephar runs off a string of digits, the phone number for the Lightning-Tether.
Phineas dials and waits for someone to answer.
After one ring, a toneless electronic voice says, "Please state identity of requested personage and
own identity."
Phineas blinks a few times, "Venezuela. Phineas."
The voice says, "Please hold." Wagner's _Ride of the Valkyries_ plays quietly in the
background.
Phineas shakes his head a little at the music, seemingly disappointed.
Sephar squeaks, "What is it?"
Phineas says "Nothing. I just don't overly like this song. Found out a number of years ago it was
a favorite of a particularly evil tyrant. Sorta ruined it for me."
<
Sephar squeaks, "Oh. I think they put it on because you were a Michaelite."
The music fades out seamlessly, volume belling downwards in a non-abrupt transition as a female
voice which you recognise comes onto the line. "Good morning there!"
Phineas says into the phone, "Venezuela?" He seems uncertain, since he doesn't know her very
well.
"That's right," she sounds pleased. "Venezuela here. Interesting stuff, this arm of yours. Do you
have a notepad ready -- I can give you some details."
Phineas takes out his notepad, "Should we be talking about this over the phone?"
Another pause. This time you can hear distinct huffiness. "_Our_ line is secure." Venezuela
mutters something as an aside then directs herself back into the phone, more brightly. "But I
forgive you!"
Phineas smiles, "I don't think mine is. Just a normal phone line."
Sephar squeaks, "Shall I check your phone?"
Phineas shrugs, "Sure. Go for it."
Sephar presses its nose against the phone, concentrating.
<
<
Sephar squeaks, "Nope, no bugs on the instrument here! They'd have to tap it at the exchange or
something. If it was bugged."
Phineas shrugs, "I'll assume I'm not that important." Then into the phone, "Ok, tell me whatcha
got, Venezuela."
"Oh, right," Venezuela says on the other end of the line, oblivously. "I forgot you don't have the
cryptographic protocol layer out there. I'm just trying to think what would be best. Hey, you
could swing by here if you like and see it yourself. Or.. right. That's fine."
Venezuela begins in calmer tone. "I'll give you the summary details first, Phineas. The arm you
left with me was from a mature female, caucasian. We've got a fix on the identity but I'll get to
that in a moment. The really interesting thing is that it had been prepared."
<
Phineas says into the phone, "Mmm hmm." He starts to write down notes.
"Drained of blood and then deep frozen. Absolutely fascinating. That makes it a little difficult to
fix a date and time of death from the purely pathological evidence.," she sounds thrilled by the
novelty.
Venezuela continues, "The brand was definitely applied after death though. That was immediately
obvious from the tissue grafts."
Phineas says into the phone, "Venezuela, is it a similar process to how people prepare beef after
it is slaughtered?"
Phineas says "Or pork, for that matter?"
There is a thoughtful pause on the other end of the line. Venezuela says sweetly, "Phineas, I'm a
pathologist, not a butcher. I wouldn't rule it out, but it isn't my expertise."
Phineas says "Alright, please do go on."
"Right. I didn't find any traces of drug comsumption from the standard tissue tests, or from the
bone marrow. We were also able to do some checking from the fingerprints..." Venezuela
says.
Phineas takes notes and listens, phone cradled against his shoulder.
"She's been identified as a Susan Hemmings," Venezuela informs. "Her fingerprints were on police
records from some public disturbance in a bar a couple of months ago."
Phineas says into the phone. "Interesting. Anything else?"
She adds briskly, "She was a 19 year old runaway." Down the phone, Venezuela says, "But she
won't be running anywhere now. Is that any help to you at all?"
Phineas sighs, "I was afraid of that. This is all starting to make entirely too much sense. Any leads
on the brand on the arm?"
"No," says the far end speaker cheerfully. "But if anything comes up, I can get hold of you on this
number?"
Phineas says "Not usually. Let me give you my cellphone number. 555-4675. Thanks Venezuela,
you're a doll. If you ever get out of the lab, I'll buy you dinner."
She laughs, "You're just bad to the bone, you know that? Hey, you could always.. ahh.. drop by
sometime. If you want to, I mean. And if you do pick up any more corpses, I'd like to see them.
And you of course." It isn't clear which she would actually be keener to see.
Phineas smirks and is clearly amused, "Will do. Take care." With that, he waits for her goodbye,
then hangs up.
Sephar squeaks, "So what now?"
<
Phineas shrugs, "Now we call Eduardo." He chuckles as he dials the phone, "I think she's smitten
with me." He waits to see if the other end rings.
<
<
Eduardo answers, voice weary. "Detective Chavez."
Phineas says into the phone, "Eddie, it's Phineas. I need you to check on something for me."
Eduardo pauses a moment, squinting at the phone. After a moment he says "Oh?" A pause.
"Please go on."
Phineas says "A girl named Susan Hemmings. She's a 19 yr old runaway that was in a public
disturbance at a bar a few months ago. Her arm showed up at a car accident scene. Very wierd.
I think there might be a cannibal cult involved."
Eduardo says "Her arm."
Eduardo says "Nothing else."
Phineas says "Nothing else. It was drained of blood, and then branded. The trail led to a restaraunt
that has special menus and 'private dinner events'."
Eduardo's hand curls and he frowns. "I have something of a caseload. My Captain would object
to me taking on another."
Eduardo says "But for this..."
Eduardo's voice trails off into a hiss. "I suspect she did not die cleanly."
Phineas says "I'll keep poking around on my end, but I'm about dry on leads. I'll have a coroner's
report sent over to you, so you can see what I found."
Eduardo nods into the phone, then waits a while before speaking again.
Phineas says "I'm going to look into the owner of the restaraunt, I'm sure they have a file down
at the health department."
Eduardo says "And I will do what I can. If nothing else, I can track down who is investigating the
case."
Phineas says "Alright. Call me if you find anything. Talk to you later, Ed."
Eduardo's lips pull back; his smile edged with glass. "I have something of a reputation." (The
smile is completely wasted on the deserted office. Not even the coffee maker quails.)
Phineas hangs up, he supposes. He has nothing else to say.
Eduardo hangs up, and considers. It's about 3am, and there's little to no chance he's going to find
out who is working on this case tonight. He adds a note to his jotter, another line of immaculate
copperplate perfectly aligned with all the rest.
Sephar squeaks at Phineas, "More work after dawn, I guess?"
Phineas nods, "Yep. I'm gonna hit the sack. You can stay here, if you want."
Sephar squeaks, "Sure. I'll keep an eye on things and check my email."
Eduardo pours another coffee, and then heads over to records, there to bug the clerk who fears
the never sleeping Detective whose mere presence is almost enough to make computers crash.
---