Status: Finished

Genre: Literary Fiction



Status: Finished

Genre: Literary Fiction



The Harry Hope Fertility Clinic is found to be the source of an international black market in superior---SuperSperm.
The interim Director, Doctor Michael Barnes, is beset on all sides by the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune. He enlists help to stop the murders and unmask the head of the multi-billion dollar organization.
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The Harry Hope Fertility Clinic is found to be the source of an international black market in superior---SuperSperm.
The interim Director, Doctor Michael Barnes, is beset on all sides by the slings and arrows of outrageous misfortune. He enlists help to stop the murders and unmask the head of the multi-billion dollar organization.

Chapter49 (v.1) - DEATH IN THE AFTERNOON

Author Chapter Note

The mole in the Clinic is found and identified.
Bill picks up Brett at Les Miserables Hospital to have him join the defense of his employer.
Ellie and Tom creep closer to an unveiling.

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 10, 2017

Reads: 39

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 10, 2017




A Serial

Nicholas Cochran

 Chapter Forty-Nine


Bill Richardson drifted his Bentley up to the front door of the Les Miserables Hospital, threw the keys to a valet, and burst through the doors to ask Brett’s whereabouts.

The entire staff was under a gag order from the police as well as from the hospital administration. Undaunted, Bill gave the receptionist a number to call; “or even his room,” suggested Bill, “I’ll talk to his guard.”

The receptionist was of the brighter side of Darwin. Less than two minutes later, Bill was in an elevator to the Pulmonary ICU Ward.

He buzzed, was admitted, and escorted by a tall nurse with long hair and a short skirt. Bill admired and thanked her with unnecessary fervor. She appreciated it. It wasn’t every day an older guy praised her twenty-one years of figure building.


“Brett,” cried Bill with genuine emotion, “man, you look reallygood. Are you?”

“I sure am, Bill; I’m out of here today or tomorrow.”

“Why not today? Come along with me. We’re chasing bad guys. Know how to shoot?”

“Yup. Member of a quick-draw social club.”

Bill added this number to Brett’s heap of unusual surprises.

Does this guy ever just shut it all off? I should recruit him, right here. Right now

“Brett, my man, every thought of being a Private Eye; you know, Columbo and the gang?”

‘Yes, Bill; I have. Are you offering me a job?”

“Well, Christ; am I? I guess I am.”

“Can I work part time? You see, I really like my job with the Clinic. It gives me a lot of time to practice puzzle busting and Cryptogam solving.”

Bill had no answer for this, except; “Done. You’re a part-time hire. Hundred bucks an hour plus expenses. And you’re coming with me right now to start earning that.” 

Brett lowered his chin while narrowing his eyes, trying to solve Bill’s speech pattern to discover if Bill was shining him on.

Bill, the consummate observer, picking up on the look, immediately said. “Yes. I’m serious. Your employer—the steady one—and his wife, are sailing too damn close to the wind. They could get some serious luffing and be rubbed out.”

From his extensive reading as well as practical experience, Brett solved Bill once more and agreed.

“But hey, Bill. While I’m getting ready for departure, I should tell you what I’ve been working on while I‘ve been squirreled away here for R&R,” pausing for emphasis, “I know, for sure, who the boss is.”

Bill stopped everything both physical and mental. “Yeah ? Really? Jesus, you can tell me while we book. Let’s go get ‘em.”

Brett smiled to himself, anticipating the moment when Billreached and uncovered the identity of the boss.

Following several hugs of the more endowed nurses, and polite handshakes with the older or less attractive helpers, Brett and Bill rode the elevator down to the lobby where they quickly walked to Bill’s ‘valet who produced his Bentley from a special parking spot reserved for the Director of the Hospital who was attending a conference in Bern.

Bill gave the lad a sizable tip and a card, as well as a request for the kid to act as a Baker Street Irregular for Bill’s cases, especially the criminal ones with Fiona’s clients.

Both Brett and Bill were surprised when the kid agreed and asked if he should send all the information or bring it himself to 221 B, Baker Street.

“Just send it to the numbers on the card or bring it along and I’ll give you some new cases if you’re that good. Thanks.”
Brett and Bill peeled away toward Fiona’s office.


Doug’s voice cracked between sobs.

He asked me what to do. He said there was a terrible accident. Someone was badly hurt and he didn’t want to touch them or disturb anything. He added that he had an abhorrence of death. That got my attention immediately. I told him to just wait there; I’d come down to see what he was blubbering about.

Our early soiree concluded around four-thirty. Some of the guests were continuing the party on the patio. A few couples were chatting in low tones, trysts were arranged, phone numbers exchanged.

Nancy was talking to a couple of the nurses about her future. It was a good time for me to leave to discover what Doug was talking about.

As soon as I left the elevator to walk to Doug’s office I could see a body sprawled at a peculiar angle. As I came closer, I saw blood coming form a head wound.

Her cap was off to one side, apparently falling away when she lost her balance, slipped, and hit her head on the side of Doug’s metal desk.

I expected this death. Nevertheless, I was initially shocked to find the method to be a slip and fall. However, moments later I spied at least two factors about the scene that told me that this was not an accident.

There were faint black smudges leading up to the heels of the shoes. They started near one of the cryogenic machines. My fertile imagination wondered if the death occurred as a result of something cryogenic. 

It turned out that that is exactly what happened.

However the killers were very clever in their slip and fall tableau; certainly clever enough to realize that the investigating police officers would tell me to shut up, go back to fertilizing, and leave the investigation to them.

And they would be correct.

Nevertheless, I decided to tell them anyway, but not to divulge too much. It would only confuse them, make me look even more meddling, and end up having me excluded from anything they found out about the death.

I told Doug to call the police at once. 

Despite the presence of death; the loss of a human life; not needing to ask ‘for whom the bell tolls’; all that slipped over and around my conscience.

This woman had agreed to set up two men for death. They were both very fortunate to be alive. I felt my jaw clenching with some caveman sensibility, feeling neither sorrow nor regret.

I waited for the police to arrive while I dialed Fiona, Bill, and Brett to tell them that the mole was dead; yes, Nurse Campbell was definitely dead.

*  *  *

Electra moved closer to Tom, “There’s an old door I remember from when I was a little girl; part of that weird ability to remember things in detail from way back.

"I remember when the hedge was put in all around the estate; it was about the time I first saw that guy ‘kidd’ or “kidder’. It’ll come to me. Anyway, behind this hedge was a thick wooden wall; the hedge is just for show; the Beautiful Neighborhood Committee or whatever. I bet it’s still there. And I still have a key for it on this ring I dug out yesterday from a box of things I took from my Grandparents’ house.

“Problem is, you have to get on your hands and knees and then it’s on your belly to go under the hedge. If you’re not right in front of the door, well, you have to back out and go somewhere else.”

“Oh, great,” kidded Tom.

Ellie laughed quietly while they edged along the hedge on their haunches. Ellie stood up very carefully to look at something beyond the hedge.

“I just remembered that the door lines up with the tower on the east wing; looks like a witch’s hat. Here, I’ll try again." She was up and down in a nanosecond.

“It's about another five yards at the most. I’ll go under and I’ll be able to get a really good fix.”

They duck walked the five yards where Ellie dove to the ground and moved in commando style under the hedge.

Although the hedge measured a good five feet in width, Tom heard Ellie’s call for him to join her. She found the door, the key fit, and they were about to enter the grounds behind the four-car garage.

Tom burrowed under the hedge, squeezed through the munchkin-sized door, and ran across the lawn to join Ellie behind the western corner of the garages.

“These are four of the garages. There are two off the circular drive at the front lawn, next to the pool. The rest of these buildings are maintenance stuff.

“We want the cellar doors. You can see them from here. I have a key for them as well.

"Problem is, as you can see, it’s a good thirty to forty yards; all lawn; all open. Not even a goddamned summerhouse or grape arbor.

"So: I go first, casually, looking around; the whole drama, so that if I’m seen or approached, I’m out for a stroll at the old Grandparents’ house looking for my silly dog. When I’m at the doors and have them unlocked, I’ll do a super scan, give you the thumbs up, and you run the fastest forty yard dash since your NFL combine, okay?”

“Gotcha. Jesus. This could be a bitch.”

“Not me, I hope.” She laughed while she slowly sauntered out from the corner of the garages to begin her leisurely toddle across the lawn to the basement doors.


End of Chapter Forty-Nine

© Copyright 2017 Nicholas Cochran. All rights reserved.


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