Upside Down Read online

Upside Down

  by Darryl Hicks

  Copyright 2012 Darryl Hicks

  This ebook is a work of fiction. Events, names, and characters in the eBook, are likewise fictional.

  Upside Down is set in Denver Colorado. Writing on Upside Down has been in progress since spring 2012. It is a coincidence that the story will be posted so soon after the Batman tragedy.

  My sympathies go out to the victims and survivors of the Batman and Columbine shootings.

  Upside Down is recommended for mature persons only. Implied acceptance of an alternative lifestyle may be inappropriate for minors and conservatives.

  This is the first Mike Ferris eBook. Former homicide cop Mike Ferris consults on unusual murders. A weird crime scene drags Mike into the hunt for a disgruntled property owner.

  Upside Down is a departure from my previous series of eBooks about fictional planet Perpetual Twilight. The first Perpetual eBook relied a lot on the unique physiology of the planet. The second thru fourth eBooks followed the absurd turkey baster thread.

  There’s also a fifth Perpetual eBook, but it’s no longer posted. It is my missing eBook. Maybe I will post it again someday, or maybe I will save it for when I negotiate my first publishing contract.

  The Perpetual series goes like this:

  Perpetual Twilight (eBook #1)

  Perpetual Revenge (eBook #2)

  Perpetual Ray (eBook #3)

  Perpetual Casino (eBook #4)

  Perpetual Fred aka Perpetual Brownies (eBook #5)

  Since the Perpetual eBooks are set on a fictional planet and since there’s a magical turkey baster involved with the action, the genre was necessarily science fiction or fantasy. Eventually, I felt trapped by the scifi/fantasy genre.

  I wanted to take my writing into the noir genre. I decided to set my next eBook on planet Earth, in modern day United States.

  But, enough of this. My new eBook starts now.

  @#@#@#@#@#

  Upside Down

  “Think of this as a metaphor for the Denver real estate market,” said the property owner, as he dangled a knife over her prostrate body.

  “It’s not my fault the value of your condo tanked,” replied the real estate agent.

  “You sold it to me.”

  “Yes, but it was 2008 and you bought a condo in the heartland of America. Nobody buys condos in America.”

  “I’ve got neighbors,” said the property owner.

  “Yes, but you don’t have buyers. That condo will be yours forever.”

  “Not according to the bank. But, enough of this. It’s time to play the game again.”

  “No, please, my hands are all cut.” The real estate agent whined desperately, emitting a loud keening sound.

  “You have to catch it to stop the game,” said the property owner.

  “You know that’s impossible.”

  “You almost caught it last time.”

  “You put KY on the handle.”

  “Ok, no KY this time. See? I’m wiping it off.”

  “Won’t matter. My palms are all bloody …”

  “Enough of this. Come on now. Catch the falling knife. On three. One, two, oopsie, my bad.”

  Every other time he reliably dropped on three, so she was able to time when to flick out a hand. This time, the knife fell early. Instinctively she grabbed for it. Too late. The sharp double edged knife plunged deep into her chest.

  The real estate agent screamed.

  The property owner leaned closer, watching her fade.

  She coughed, then spit a mouthful of blood into his right eye.

  @#@#@#@#@#

  My chiropractor said, “How’s the leg?”

  “Not bad,” I replied.

  “Been walking much?”

  “Twice this week.”

  “Not enough.”

  “I need a life.”

  “Walking is your life now,” said Dr. Stan.

  “What’s walking supposed to do?”

  “Strengthen your back muscles.”

  “How will that help?”

  “Well, you know your sciatic leg pain is actually phantom pain caused by a pinched nerve in your back?”

  “Yes,” I said, “and there’s something about a swollen disc.”

  “Right, the discs are between the spine bones. The discs protect the spine bones from rubbing against each other, thus the discs are generally a good thing. But, in your case, the discs are bad, because your discs are swollen.”

  “So, it’s one of these swollen discs that’s pinching the nerve and that’s causing my phantom leg pain?”

  “Right,” said Dr Stan. “The swollen disc pinches the nerve. The treatment is to strengthen your back muscles to the point where your back muscles can push your swollen disc off the nerve.”

  “Thus relieving the sciatic pain?” I said.

  “Yes theoretically, certainly that’s the treatment for couch potatoes with marginal sciatica, when there’s infrequent attacks that come and go. If the patient gets off his fat butt and does some walking, then bingo, no more sciatic pain.”

  “But, my sciatica is constant, so that’s beyond marginal?”

  “In your case, the discs are abnormally swollen. Even with a well toned back, there may be a limit to what your back muscles can do for you. But, still, walking is the best self treatment. You could also lift some weights, nothing heavy, just lots of reps with light weights. I know a personal trainer who’s a rehab specialist, licensed with the state. He’s reasonably priced and your insurance would cover part of it.”

  My cell phone vibrated. I ignored it.

  “What did your doctor friend say about my xray?” I asked.

  “Your xray is golden. He believes you have damaged discs in your back.”

  “What happens next?”

  “Next, you see my brother.”

  “Your brother?”

  “He’s my doctor friend.”

  “Aha.”

  The intercom buzzed and a female voice said, “Doctor, your brother is here.”

  “Send him in,” said chiropractor Stan.

  My cell phone beeped with a voice mail. I glanced at the sender and decided it could wait.

  Moments later, I was looking at 2 peas from the same pod.

  Dr Stan’s brother stepped forward and said, “Hi, I’m Dr. Scott.”

  “Mike Ferris,” I said.

  We shook hands.

  Dr. Scott said, “My brother asked me here during your appointment.”

  “You need an exam by a medical doctor,” said Dr. Stan. “I’m just a chiropractor. I can’t sign the form.”

  “Nice little thing you bros got going here,” I said.

  “It’s legal for me to refer you to him,” said Dr. Stan.

  Dr. Scott shrugged. “We were doing lunch anyway. I just came an hour early. You want the exam or not?”

  “Bring it,” I said.

  We discussed the hefty exam fee, for which my insurance would pay nada, zero percent. Dr. Scott insisted on full payment before the exam began. I charged it to a credit card.

  @#@#@#@#@#

  I was laying on my back. Dr. Scott knew my left leg was the sciatic leg.

  Dr. Scott said, “Flex your left knee. Grab the left leg below the knee and pull your thigh towards your chest.”

  I complied, meanwhile grimacing from sciatic pain.

  “That it?” said Dr. Scott. “Can you get your thigh closer to your chest?”

  I groaned, and shook my head. “No, that’s it.”

  Unexpectedly, Dr. Scott reached over and pushed my left thigh closer to my chest.

  The sciatic pain hit me like a high voltage jolt from a European power outlet. I screamed.

  “I’m going to call that ‘excruciating pain’,” said D
r. Scott.

  @#@#@#@#@#

  “Where you been?” said Ben.

  “Bone cracker,” I replied. “What have we got?”

  “Female real estate agent stabbed in the chest. Name’s Gloria Bentley.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “The crime scene is weird. You’re the expert on weird. Cap said to bring you in on this.”

  “He’s paying my standard rate?”

  “Yup.”

  “Let’s get to it. Show me the body.”

  @#@#@#@#@#

  I was a Denver homicide detective before my car accident. After the accident, I took early retirement with partial disability, then got certified as a private dick. My former Captain occasionally brings me in on the weird.

  The victim was tied to the foot of the bed. A small step ladder sat on the rug nearby.

  I climbed the ladder and looked down on the victim. The wounds on the body below were within an arm’s reach of where I stood on the ladder. I stretched out my arm and pretended to drop something.

  “Bomb’s away,” I said.

  “Double edged knife,” said Molly, the Medical Examiner.

  “What?”

  “The murder weapon is a double edged knife, not a bomb.”

  Molly showed me a knife in a plastic evidence bag.

  “I never thought it was a bomb,” I said.

  “You said ‘bombs away’.”

  “If you were dropping a knife on somebody, what would YOU say?”

  “Why would anybody go to all this trouble to drop a knife on somebody?”

  “The MO means something to our killer.”

  Molly pointed at the ropes. “He tied her so she only had limited use of her hands. Look at the right palm. There are 2 parallel slashes, pretty deep, too. She grabbed the knife blade in her bare hand, Mike. The knife cut through her palm like butter.”

  I was still atop the ladder. Again, I stretched out my arm and pretended to drop something.

  This time, I said, “Catch the fucking knife, bitch!”

  “You’re creeping me out,” said Molly.

  @#@#@#@#@#

  We wanted to speak with the ex-husband, but he was picking his son up at school, so the ex was temporarily unavailable. Ben went to sit on the ex-husband’s house.

  I drove to the licensing office. I had the completed form, with Dr. Scott’s official signature as the proscribing medical doctor. Dr Scott’s remarks were couched in medical legalese, but essentially Dr. Scott’s remarks boiled down to this: “Michael Ferris suffers from excruciating pain in his left leg, resulting from an on-the-job auto accident while serving as a Denver policeman.”

  @#@#@#@#@#

  Been there. Done that. I had the license.

  She was on me as soon as I stepped to the sidewalk, down the final step from the licensing office stairs.

  “Want a free brownie?” she asked.

  “How did you know I just got a license?” I replied.

  “Lucky guess.”

  I pointed at a guy wearing a tie. “What about him? Does he have a license?”

  “Eat the fucking brownie, dude.”

  “Does this constitute ‘public consumption’? Isn’t that illegal?”

  “If you eat the brownie right now, I’ll give you 20% off your first purchase.”

  I ate the brownie. She handed me a business card that had “20% OFF” written on the back.

  @#@#@#@#@#

  My car’s sound system was sounding especially good today. I was in the parking lot of a donut shop, cranking the sound system to the max.

  The sound system cut out and the Bluetooth phone rang through the stereo speakers. The sound system screen displayed a message that said Ben was calling.

  I answered with, “Yo.”

  Ben said, “Yo not funny. The ex is home. Get over here.”

  “I’m coming.”

  Ben disconnected.

  Moments later, the sound system resumed the Deep Purple’s Child In Time at full blast.

  I screamed from hard rock sudden shock.

  The singer screamed back at me, for like 4 minutes of