A City Detective’s Night In The Country--Excerpt "Heather Darling and the Case of the Clockwork Cannibal" HR Apostos

When Ian and I come into the house after an early morning tour of the farm, we find Detective Farina sitting at the dining table. He’s still in his pajamas and his head is resting on the table. A mug of coffee sits on the table next to his head and is cooling by the second. I’m not going to say anything. Luckily, Ian does it for me. I am returning to the kitchen after washing up to make breakfast just as Ian sits down next to the detective with his own steaming mug.

He studies the detective’s unmoving form, “I think that you’ve finally done it Lassie.”

“What?”

“Wore the poor lad out.”

“Impossible.”

I watch out of the corner of my eye as my father puts his head on the table to study Farina even more closely. “The unruly hair, the red eyes, the drooling, the vacant expression...all marks of carnal overload.”

“Like I said. Impossible. We went to bed early.”

Ian begins to say something.

“And went to sleep.”

“No, no. Detective Farina does not have the look of a man that has seen a bit of sleep. You say that you went to bed early did ya?”

“Aye, the lad was put to bed early,” I say imitating my father’s Irish brogue. “Just like a wee bairn.”

Ian sits back up and says, “Bairn is a word of the Scotsman my girl.”

“I tried.”

“And a lovely try it was.” He says as he turns his attention back to the detective. “So what is it that robbed you of your sleep?”

“The trains, the wildcats, the coyotes, the frogs.” He says. He raises his head and looks at Ian. “Damn crazy frogs. Doesn’t anything ever go to sleep around here? It was awful. But nothing was as bad as the dancing zombies.”

Ian looks at me. “He’s been dancing with the zombies.” My father announces.

“And I thought that a man like you would be faithful. Shame on you Farina.”

The detective raises his head and glares at me.

“I finally nodded off some time this morning, when I closed my eyes there were frogs, coyotes, birds, and a train conductor. They were all zombies and they were all dancing to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”

“Which was the song that was playing when the alarm went off.” I say with a smile. I walk over to the dining table and rub the detective’s shoulders for a moment. I lean down and whisper. “It’s going to be forty-five minutes before breakfast is ready. Go back to bed.”

Farina wastes no time rising from his seat. Ian and I listen as the detective makes his way back to the bedroom. Farina’s groan of relief echoes through the house as he falls back into bed.