Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Mondieu

Friday

“Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil. Now, lest he reach out his hand and take also of the tree of life and eat, and live forever—”  therefore the Lord God sent him out from the garden of Eden to work the ground from which he was taken.

Bible – ESV

Birds wheeled in the heavens, awaiting their turn in this exodus, and dead fish collected on the banks of ponds and streams. An avian thunder clapped over the city, and the inspector watched as birds peeled away from the flock in a line leading south, the circle that closed behind them ever diminishing.

                What now? Was this the only crime?

                The trapdoor opened up behind the inspector, and a boy crawled out. He wore a blue, tunic-style coat with large, ivory buttons and a red inner lining and scarlet lapels. On his head was a blue cap with a black rim. The postman, it seemed, for he carried a large burlap sack full of letters.

                It was a young man, clean-shaven and bright-cheeked. He rifled through his sack for a few moments before producing an envelope the size of a postcard and handing it to the inspector.

                “Mondieu? Here you are, sir. A letter for you,” the postman said, fingering the rim of his hat as he handed Mondieu the letter.

                “A letter for me?” asked Mondieu, gingerly accepting the letter. From whom?

                The inspector popped open the light, wax seal and thumbed the letter out from inside.

               

THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE WILL HAVE YOUR ANSWERS

               

                The tree of knowledge? Was that…? It couldn’t be… Suddenly, a lot was clearer, and an influx of new questions flooded into the inspector’s head. Had the criminal overplayed his hand? Had he revealed too much, or was he so confident?

                “Who gave this to you, boy?” the inspector asked, sternly meeting the young man’s eyes.

                The boy’s gaze did not waver or wince under the inspector’s cold glance. A good kid, honest. “It was left in the day’s post, sir. Anonymously. Likely been in the slot since last night, I suspect.”

                The inspector sighed. Worth a shot. “Very good. Can you deliver a verbal message to the doctor?” The boy nodded. “Tell him I need the water checked for poisons. I’ll send Vespars over with samples to the lab. I’ll need them analyzed and I’ll stop by his lab later.”

                “Yes, sir.”

                The inspector stared a little longer at the sky before leaving the rooftop.  Vespars and Turners awaited him inside the tower, Turners franticly following the text on the black backgrounds of the monitors, running frenetically up and down the ramps.

                “Vespars,” the inspector said, coming to a halt on the ramp near the base.

                Vespars looked up as the inspector reached him.

                “I’ll need you to collect samples of the fish that have died, and the water from the ponds and drinking water, and send them to the labs. I want the doctor to analyze each of those swiftly as possible. Collect a few feathers while you are at it, and see if we can glean anything from those.”

                “Yes, sir,” replied Vespars, with a glum smile that didn’t touch his eyes. He left with a long stride, and the inspector turned to Turners, half-buried in a pile of electronics.

                “What have you found?”

                “I honestly have no clue,” the muffled cry returned from Turners.  “Everything is just slightly out of whack. Whoever tweaked this things was thorough, and subtle. They seem to understand this technology mumbo-jumbo better than I.”

                “Hmm.” The inspector rubbed at the bristles on his chin. “So it looks like sabotage, then?”

                “Unless the technology developed a mind of its own, yes. The weather is flummoxing like mad; it’s a juddering mess in here.”

                “Is it possible for there to have been an artificial intelligence going awry of its own accord?” asked the inspector.

                “Will you hand me that wrench?” A hand appeared out from the cluster of machinery, and the inspector passed the wrench into the waiting fingers. “Not a chance. These legacy systems could hardly play a game of virtual software, let alone develop cognizance. But, ah, here’s something odd.” Turners popped out and scampered up the ramp, expecting the inspector to follow.

                When the inspector arrived, Turners showed him one of the screens on which a graph showed a sharp decline of a blue line below a flat red line. “The blue line shows the oxygen level of the waters over these last few hours. These fish drowned; or, rather, there was no dissolved oxygen left in the water for the fish to breathe.”

                “Strange. What reduced the oxygen levels?”     

                Turners shrugged. “Beats me. And that shouldn’t affect the birds in the slightest. So why did the birds flee?”

                “Check the weather systems. I suspect you may find something there. I’ll be back tonight. Let me know what you find.”

                Turners gave the inspector a strange look. “Do you know something?”

                “Maybe,” replied Mondieu. “We’ll find out here shortly. I think our criminal may have overstepped his bounds.”

                “You know where to find me, Inspector,” Turners said with a nod, returning to inspect the monitors.

                Mondieu descended the ramps, hustling out the door with his long-legged stride. What was this tree of knowledge? If anything, the library would have information. Also, a small-town library often possessed a history of the city, and that was beginning to be a lack of knowledge he was regretting.

                Inspector Mondieu asked a surrounding group of citizens working on cleaning up the dead fish where the library was, and they pointed him to the west, with some directions.

                Finally, after all this time, he felt as though he was firmly on a path. The criminal was far ahead, but strides in the right direction were being made.

                The library was a wide, glass pyramid, surrounded by a hedge of apple trees. Marble sculptures of children reading books filled the branches of the trees, and sitting beneath the boughs, among the fallen apples. A large fountain sat in the plaza facing the library, and the benches for reading were devoid of any people this morning – likely the hubbub meant much work was to be done. The inspector had his own work to accomplish.

                The pyramid of glass shone brightly in the sunlight, a dazzling display, and the inspector could still see the last tiny group of birds swirling in the sky above in the glass’ reflection.  A hollowed section of the pyramid of glass permitted entrance, and the inspector entered the library.

                It was not a large library, not by any stretch. There were about thirty bookcases, slightly higher than the inspector himself, arrayed in three columns of ten. Chairs were set around the outside, and at a glass front-desk sat a woman, clearly a librarian, who was browsing a copy of Dante’s Inferno.

                “Excuse me, Mrs…?”

                “Mrs. Gilead,” the librarian replied. “How many I help you, Inspector?”

                Seems that everyone knows me in this city – no hiding here. “I’m looking for books that might contain information on the tree of knowledge. Can you help me?”

                “You mean the Bible?” the lady asked with a squint.

                “And maybe some commentaries,” the inspector replied.

                The librarian stood up and directed the inspector to the appropriate shelf. Not much, it seems. Two commentaries and an old King James Edition of the Bible. Mondieu took all three and tucked them under his arm. As he walked around the edge of bookcases to the desks at the back, he was surprised to find the library was not empty of people after all.

                “Good morning, Marie,” the inspector said, sitting across from Marie at one of the desks. “What are you doing here?”

                Marie was wearing a grey shirt, almost silver, that buttoned up at the front. Black gloves were set beside her pile of books, and she wore a dark-blue fedora with two roses, a black and red. Her hair was curled, and her eyes were lightly shadowed, and widened with surprise at seeing the inspector.

                “I could ask the same of you, Mondieu. Don’t you have better things to do than frighten ladies at the library?”

                “Hmm,” replied the inspector, uncertain of how to reply to this coquettish remark. He glanced over the books piled in front of her. When he’d arrived, she’d been writing in a small notebook, but by the time he’d sat, she’d already slipped it away, probably into her purse. The book that was open was a biology study of horticulture and plants, and a book on chemistry.

                “Chemistry and biology?”

                “Inspector, it isn’t nice to pry,” replied Marie, pursing her lips, prettily. “And you? The bible and some commentaries? I did not take you for a religious man, Mondieu.”

                She always managed to turn everything back on him. “Just a possible lead I was entertaining.”

                “You always are,” Marie replied, with a smile.

                The inspector held back a scowl. “And what are you studying biology and chemistry for, Marie?”

                “It’s always been an interest of mine.”

                “In this city? How would you cultivate those studies in a backwater city such as this? The technology scarcely supports such inquisitiveness.”

                “I have not always lived in this city, Inspector,” replied Marie.

                “Ah. Is that, then, how you knew DuMont?”

                “DuMont? Who is that?”

                “The man you met in the restaurant, yesterday. Or have you already forgotten?”

                Marie laughed brightly, leaning back in her chair and clapping her hands together with glee.

                “Why do you laugh?” asked the inspector, frowning.

                “I don’t know that man’s name at all, but I do not believe it is DuMont. I was getting information from him, in trade for a few things from me.”

                “What things are those, exactly?”

                Marie sighed. “Not going to keep any secrets from you, am I?”

                The inspector’s eyes narrowed.

                “Very well. But you must tell no one, please. Do you understand?”

                The inspector said nothing.

                “It’s the tree. There is something strange about it, I’ve known ever since I arrived. I’ve been studying it. People get visions from the tree, but not everyone. And you don’t even have to eat its fruit to receive the visions.”

                “Interesting. So is that where you were coming from, the night you ran into me?”

                “Yes,” Marie replied. “I’d been studying the tree, but someone had seen me. I’d only time to collect a few samples, but without a proper lab, study is incredibly slow.”
                “So what were you meeting DuMont about?”

                “He was trading me samples.”

                “And what did you give him in return?”

                Marie’s eyes narrowed stubbornly. “What I give is my own concern. I don’t have to explain my purchases to you. Everything was legal; there are no rules against it. I’m no murderer.”

                “Hmm,” said the inspector, leaning back in his chair slightly. “Then why are you so clandestine about the affair? One might suspect a nefarious purpose?”

                “I have my reasons,” replied Marie, collecting her books and standing up. “I’ll see you for dinner, tomorrow night?” Marie watched the inspector’s face and nodded. “Inspector.”

                “Marie,” said the inspector, standing up and watching her go.  Once she was gone, the inspector sat back down to his studies.

And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat. And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.

                The similarities to the first murder were relevant, and worth noting. The inspector pulled free his notebook and began taking notes. Was there a definitive connection there? Also, the name of the man was interesting: Addam, connection to Adam. Both were naked, both having just eaten of a central tree. The connection was too obvious, almost. Mondieu continued reading.

And the Lord God commanded the man, saying, Of every tree of the garden thou mayest freely eat: But of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.

               

                The tree of life, was it? The tree of knowledge? What ego was it, to cause a city to construct such? There almost seemed like there were two trees. The tree of life, that Adam and Eve were allowed to eat of, and the tree of knowledge of good and evil, whose sole purposes was to separate sin from not sin. So what was this tree of life? And what was this tree of knowledge of good and evil? Were they the same? What was he looking for? Something irked the inspector about the relationship of these trees and their relation to the crime. What was it?

                The inspector pored over the commentaries for the next several hours, trailing through different leads. A few hours later, the inspector scowled after finding that he’d been staring into space for almost ten minutes without reading a single word. What was it about Marie that derailed him, so?

                If she was studying the tree, he needed to know more. He wondered if her equipment was more advanced than that of the doctor’s; if he should send her samples to study as well. Maybe with more advanced equipment, she might divulge the secrets of the second murder as well.

                And what might she know about the tree? Or what secrets might the tree be hiding that would unravel the seeds of this mystery, finally allowing his investigation to bear some fruit?  Or was it all another red herring?

                The inspector slammed his books shut and stood up, tucking each under his arm. He strode up to the front desk and checked out each one, before leaving the library. He quickly passed through town and dropped off his books at his room, picking up some slices of bread for a late lunch and shooting straight for the doctor’s labs.

                Hopefully the doctor has received the samples that I had Vespars bring.  He saw the doctor inside his laboratory and knocked quickly before pushing his way into the lab. The Doctor was seated at his chair, wiping his brow and just staring across the assortment of creatures cluttering his desk.

                “Doctor?” the inspector asked tentatively, worry creasing his brow.

                “Ah, Inspector Mondieu. I’m at a loss. It seems the fish died of an oxygen deficiency or something, as there is no poison or cause of death I can decipher. As to the rapid state of decay? I’ve not a clue. And so far, the bird’s feathers have given me nothing in the way of a clue as to the exodus of the birds.”

                “Nothing?”

                “Not even a hint of a clue. There is simply nothing wrong with the birds that I can discover. The water itself, the water from the pond, appears to match my diagnosis of the death of the fish. I might need more sophisticated instruments to know for certain, but I suspect the fish drowned.”

                The inspector nodded. “That’s what Turners told me as well.”

                The Doctor took off his glasses, rubbing them softly against his shirt and looking tired, almost defeated.

                “Take a day off, Doctor. You look like you could use some rest.”

                “You are right, inspector. You’ve got an eye for people, it seems. I don’t sleep well, anymore. Nights are fraught with dreams, it seems. But I’ll be fine. I’ll send for you if I discover anything more here.”

                “Very good, Doctor. Take it easy. Would you like me to have someone bring something by?”

                “No thank you, inspector. My man is very good about taking care of me. Thanks for the offer.”

                The inspector nodded and left the lab.

                The sun was near the horizon when he’d left the labs. Had he been so long at the library?

                As he walked through residential, he almost ran straight into Simon Temple.

                “Simon,” the inspector exclaimed. “I’ve been wondering where you’ve been. I wanted to ask you some questions.”

                “I’m at your disposal, inspector. What do you need to know?”

                The inspector motioned towards a bench on the side of the path beneath a cherry tree, low clusters of cherries hanging over the edges of the path.

                “Simon, I’ve trusted you with much, these past couple of days,” the inspector glanced at Simon, gauging his response. Simon waited patiently, betraying nothing.  Cool fellow – there’s a reason I like Simon. There’s a bit of me in him, or him in me.

                “I hate to be suspicious, but…”

                Simon waved off the inspector’s concern. “That’s your job, isn’t it, inspector? Suspicion? You are wondering why I am here, what brought me to Garden.”

                “You have to admit,” the inspector began, in a low voice, “that it is a bit convenient timing, isn’t it?”

                “And I’m not the only one, Inspector, as you know.” Simon looked pointedly at the inspector, not veiling his none-too-subtle meaning.  

                “Yes, you are correct. So, what are you doing here, Simon Temple?”

                Simon Temple let out a huff of breath, staring across the street into space. “Inspector, I really wish I could answer that. I can assure you, on my honor, that I’m no murderer. But beyond that, I cannot tell you at this time.”

                “And I’m supposed to be satisfied with your assurance? Your word? If you were the murderer, your word wouldn’t be very valid, would it now, Mr. Temple?”

                “As I said, not very convincing, I’m afraid. But I can tell you this, inspector. I, too, am an inspector of sorts. I’m no stranger to a mystery, or a chase. And, where possible, I will help you if you will allow it.”

                The inspector nodded and stood up. “Don’t be going anywhere, Simon. You’ll be seeing more of me in the coming days. If anything, you realize Mr. Temple, that your confession only makes you more suspicious?”

                “Perhaps, inspector. Perhaps that is the only way it can be, Inspector Mondieu. Good eve.”

                The inspector left Simon sitting on the bench beneath the cherry tree, and wandered the streets, lost in thought. Was it Simon? Somehow, the inspector suspected him less, as though Simon’s statements were enough to disabuse the notion of his criminality.

                But who? And why? True, Simon had no reason to be suspicious at this juncture, no motivation. But what motivation could someone have who lived outside the city? Jealousy? A personal vendetta? Or should the inspector start looking into the city, a city that had experienced nil crime in a generation?

                “Letter for you, sir,” a voice said. It was the postman. How does he keep finding me so easily? I’m not even sure where I am.

                “Thank you, sir. Who left you this letter?” asked Mondieu.

                The boy shrugged. “It’s strange, sir. I thought my pack was empty at the end of a day of delivery, and as I reached the post office at the end of the day, I found this letter still in my burlap sack. I apologize that it was not delivered earlier.”

                The inspector opened the envelope, sealed with the same wax seal as before: a red seal, a small circular image of a snake, fangs wide open.

                It was another clue.

                The inspector read it briefly. “Thank you. You’ve been most diligent,” the inspector said to the postman, before turning around and walking swiftly away, leaving the bewildered boy standing beneath the street lamps, bemused in the light of the setting sun.

               

                The inspector reached the police station and barged into the room, finding Vespars and Seth there, already. He showed them the letter, handing it to Seth, who read it out loud.

                THE STARS VEILED, THE MOON LOST

                SUN WILL BE SILENCED

                IN THE MISTS AND CLOUDS

                A DAY DULY DARKENED

                “A short clue, inspector. What do you think it means?”

                “I think it is obvious, Seth. I want you to station men at the technology tower over night. Make sure someone is there at all hours. I want no one to go in or out without authorization. Am I clear?”

                “Yes, inspector. What…?” Seth began.

                “Just do it. I’ll see you all tomorrow. We’re going to catch ourselves a villain,” the inspector said, a wild glint in his eyes. “To work, gentlemen. If I am correct, our villain will visit the tower tonight. And then, we will catch him.”