I watched the lights in the elevator blink on and off with growing relief as it lifted me high above the headache below. When I reached the fourteenth I was almost feeling myself again. I stepped out of the elevator, smiled as I heard the doors slide closed behind me. I prayed that I wasn’t going to be called down again. God knew what more stunts Dr. Dave was likely to pull. He still had a big online following as far as I was aware, and who knew what he might leak for the publicity. That worry was still on my mind when I got back to the office, Teresa reacted with automatic sympathy when she saw how it was expressed on my face.

“That bad?” she asked, eyes wide. “Want me to put on the vanilla mocha?”

I was in a daze, really, almost passed by her desk, didn’t really want to look at anything, still having the visions of the bloody signs and symbols filling my vision. but then I stopped and turned. Looked into her concerned face. Her eyebrows had certainly thickened since I’d left, hadn’t they?. No, I told myself on a further glance, just my imagination.

I offered a heavy breath out.

“You have no idea,” I told her. “And that would be perfect.”

Well, a fifth of scotch would have been more perfect, even something to turn that mocha Irish, but I had work to do.

Teresa rose from her desk and headed over to the coffee maker.

“I could give you an idea of what it was like down there, if you really want,” I tried.

She turned and raised those thickening eyebrows.

“On second thought, I'd rather you didn't,” she decided. And you know hearing that from a person who is likely to be slicing up some raw meat for dinner in a few hours, that said something. Or at least I thought so.

“I’m really sorry, then.” she replied, turning back to the coffee maker. “If I’d known…”

“Forget it,” I told her, warmed though by the thought. “What’s done is done.”

“The white folder on the desk is for you,” she continued. “The papers are ready for Vaclav. At least that was easy. Your ‘unanticipated tenant death’ directory was pretty complete where it comes to ‘unanticipated’.”

I nodded. Picked up a folder, rifled through the contents. Looked like everything was there.

“He had a firm draw up new ones when the Phoenix act was pushed through,” I told her. “Actually it makes things a lot easier for all of us.”

The coffee machine sputtered and coughed. In moments Teresa turned around smiling, with a steaming mocha in her hand.

“I can't see, what we can’t just email or fax these to him,” she offered, “or even send a courier up to the house with the primary copies. It would be a lot less work for you. And it couldn’t cost Emily that much.”

“Well, I told her, you were at his place for the Christmas Party, you know how old-fashioned Vaclav is, I doubt he's got anything post-1960 running in his house. I mean he might have a telex machine.”

I took the cup. The smelled perfect.

“And nothing like this,” I pointed out.

She smiled.

“I’d never seen a real rotary dialed telephone before,” she admitted.

“Jeez you’re young,” I told her.

“Shut up,” she replied, still smiling. “Your only eight years older than I am!”

“Hey, I can still remember when only living people could get elected to government,” I pointed out.

“Lucky that’s changed,” she shot back. “I might want to run this city someday.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I told her. “I wanted to be rich and famous and popular, and look where I ended up.”

“This isn’t so bad,’ Teresa offered.

“On a good day,” I finished, turned to go back in my office.

“Well if he wants to be a lawyer for much longer, “she continued, “he's really do have to move into the 21st century.”

I nodded, took a sip, yes, that was better. I turned when I reached my door.

“And speaking of the 21st century,” I told her, “they're going to need to get everything we have on the former tenants of apartment two thirteen and have that ready to send off to fingers so they can have that further investigation. As well as footage from all the cameras on a thumb drive for Fingers.”

“Who should I call, for cleaning up,” she wanted to know. “Maxworth or The Big Shebang?”

I thought about that remembered what I saw.

“I'm probably going have to talk to Emily about that,” I told her. “We may need to tear out the walls. I really doubt anyone's going to want to live there only after a simple repainting or new carpet.”

“That should be a fun conversation,” Teresa replied, now back at her desk.

“I’m sure it won’t be.”

And I left her to her work.

I crossed over to the window, moved the blinds to look down at the building’s small carport Thankfully there weren’t any more vehicles blocking it up. That was something at least, It meant that the death was only, at best, still local news.

I put the papers on the desk and turned to my computer, checked the online city news sites. The morning’s videos were still up, the death at 23 Pangbourne included.. And there was even a piece on Dr. Dave and him selflessly turning his talents to aiding the police. Jesus Christ, he was a grandstander. On the plus side there was no mention of my name, at least in the video the man had made. His responses were more about promoting himself than anyone else. Thank heaven for small mercies and rampant narcissism.

I took another sip of the vanilla mocha, and that was it, time for me to get back to my own work and try and forget what I’d seen..

I picked up the phone and hit speed dial number four.