The Mind Virus

Chapter 6 - Part 1

Harriett parked her car around the back of the apartment complex. It was better that the people she interacted with not see it. Not that that would be fatal. It was registered to a shell company within a shell company within yet another shell company registered overseas. It couldn't be traced back to her directly, but it could attract heat nonetheless. The last thing she needed would be to get pulled over and searched. The contents of the trunk would make a pretty grim case against her.

Skimming through the dossier on the last suicide, Harriett memorized everything she needed to know, put it back in her glove box, and took off for the apartment. It was a beautiful morning, and Harriett wasn't beyond enjoying the small pleasures in life. God knows she spent too much time lamenting over her actions – past and present – and it was nice to let her mind wander. Simply suppressing her guilt by willpower alone was not enough to make it through the day.

She closed in on the apartment. As she got to the door, she heard someone fiddling with it from the inside. Did the occupant see her through the window? Harriett wasn't a fan of being expected. The door opened, and some idiot barreled right into her.

She stared at this young man, not much taller than her and looking about half her age. She wondered what type of imbecile walks through doorways without watching where he's going. Glancing down at his belt, she got her answer. Police. This was not good. She had been told in no uncertain terms that the police weren't going to be in the way. Judging by his clothes, she guessed he was a detective. Even worse. This was no routine procedure.

"Everything all right there, champ?" she said, putting on her most personable facade.

"Sorry, I wasn't watching where – uh, yeah, sorry about that." For a cop, this fellow seemed quite dim, not to mention unconfident. And now he was staring at her like a lost puppy.

"No need to apologize," she gazed at the name on his ID, "Detective James Ford."

Detective Ford froze. An expression came over his face which indicated either sudden realization or an unwelcome movement in his bowels. His breathing came back as suddenly as it had halted, although sounding rather labored now.

"Sorry, I didn't get your name," he said, presumably trying his best to sound stoic and professional and failing badly at it.

A laugh burst out of Harriett. She didn't intend to do that. Neither did she truly intend to say, "Why? Am I a suspect, Detective?"

Ford's breathing was getting ridiculous. She almost offered the man her asthma pump. "I don't know, ma'am. Are you?" he said.

What the fuck does that even mean? "Jess Van Zandt. I'm with the insurance company." She wasn't sure whether giving her false identity to the police was a good idea, but she had been backed into a corner, even if it was by the world's most sad and pathetic detective. It wasn't that her alias wasn't ironclad, but much like with her car, the less people, particularly police, that knew about it, the better for its longevity. She held out a hand to mask her uncertainty.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Jim Sm– uh, Ford." A stutter. As if this guy couldn't get any more pitiful.

"The pleasure's all mine, Detective." She supposed his feeble antics were endearing in a way, although "pleasure" was probably a bit strong.

"Which insurance company did you say you were with?"

What is with this cat's breathing? Is he about to pass out? "Hanover Life. I'm here to look into the recent death of a client. Can I assume you were here for the same reason?" Harriett didn't like his digging. Was she underestimating this kid?

"Yeah, just following up."

How odd, sending a detective to "follow up." She decided to try her luck. "So you're the detective on this case then, Detective Ford?"

Ford flinched. His eyes darted to the side like some sort of hostage, but his head remained frozen in place. "No, like I said, I'm just here to follow up."

Harriett only just now realized he was holding a book under his arm. Judging by its appearance, it must have belonged to the girl. Damn it. That could have been very useful to me. "That's quite the notepad you've got there," she said, nodding in its direction.

"Right, yeah, well, you can never have too much paper, right?"

Is this fool serious? "Right." She chose her next words carefully. "Do you have heart stickers on all your notepads, Detective?" Was that too much? Possibly, but she doubted she could frazzle Ford any more than he was already.

"I like to bring a little bit of levity to my work, Miss Van Zandt." He grinned maniacally. "It was nice to meet you, ma'am. I'll be going now. I'll see you around." He hit the pavement before Harriett could respond.

"Take care," she called out, staring at him as he got into his car with the elegance of a quadriplegic hippopotamus.

"Hi, are you with Detective Smith?" came a voice from behind her.