Temperatures rise as the stakes get deadlier in Inspector Pascal Mysteries 4000 #2 Feverish When Inspector Pascal and Sergeant Braque need more time to solve the crime, presenting another special 4000-word fast-paced short-story fiction mystery-adventure episode of Inspector Pascal Mysteries 4000. INSPECTOR PASCAL MYSTERIES 4000
#2 Feverish by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 In contrast to the grey early spring fields and still-dormant leaf-less forest outside, the conservatory was bright with warm sunshine and verdant with tropical plants. Rustic stone walls under a high overhead glass atrium connected the main house to the private quarters; warm, yet spacious and airy, lush with exotic ornamental trees, broad-leafed plants in a dozen shades of green daubed with white, yellow and crimson flowers. Rattan couches were nestled among the flora. Mrs. Primley, silver-haired with glasses, in a blue cardigan over a grey housekeeping dress, sat in a wicker chair by focus of the room - an indoor pond lush with water hyacinths, lily pads and long-stemmed aquatic leaves on smooth stems growing tall out of the still and quiet water of the pond. She considered the small gold locket in her hand sadly. “It was terrible; Hermione was such a wonderful person and to go so soon… and so horribly.” She sniffed. “It’s been an awful week. Mr. Rupert had just come back from his work trip and the next day he said he was very tired from the long travel and he was feverish so he kept to his bed for three days. Just as he was starting to be up and about, Hermione developed a high fever.” Seated across from her, trim in a grey suit a brown-haired man with keen hazel eyes asked, “Why didn’t you take her to a doctor?” “Hermione believed in healing herself. She was terrified of needles. Even so, we were just about to after three days of it, but then the fever suddenly broke and she felt much better. She was tired though and just wanted to sleep. Whenever I checked on her she would talk a little and she read her books.” “Did she eat or drink?” “No, she said she wasn’t hungry at all. She’d only taken cool water, juices and pills to reduce the fever. I brought her tea, but she didn’t touch it.” Mrs. Primley shuddered. “Then all of a sudden – she said she was feeling stomach cramps, then she began moaning and then… it was horrible! We called Mr. Rupert at his office and the hospital, but it took them three hours to send an ambulance and we weren’t able to move her ourselves in her awful condition. She was convulsing! We couldn’t help her!” Primley wiped her tearing eyes. “It was horrific. It was over for her so fast! I thought she’d been poisoned, but I don’t know how that could have happened.” Primley covered her face with her hands and began weeping. He pulled out one of his kerchiefs and gave it to her so she could mop her tears. He waited until she was able to recover her composure before he asked. “Why did you think, poisoned?” She daubed at her eyes. “If you saw what happened – I don’t what else would have caused that. You see, Hermione… she was always worried about germs and such so she didn’t socialize very well, which was really a pity as people just didn’t have much chance to get to know what a lovely soul she was. Cook – you know Fabian – and I, we’ve worked for her family for years so she always trusted us with her food.” “Sir!” He turned to the big, broad-shouldered uniformed man posted at the entry, “Yes, Sergeant Braque?” “Inspector Hawthorne is back. He has the lab results and wants everyone to be present.” He closed his notepad. “Thank you Sergeant.” He stood up and held out his hand, “Mrs. Primley, let me help you.” She wiped her eyes and reached up to clasp his hand as she rose out of her chair. “Thank you so much. It’s been hard with everyone under suspicion these past three days and we’re all still in shock.” Hawthorne, accompanied by his escort of three uniformed police officers, Tyrel, Mallory and Ortiz, strode down the arched hallway from the front foyer. Sgt. Braque saluted him as he went past into the conservatory. He held out his hand, “Inspector Pascal.” Pascal went to meet him and shook his hand, “Sir.” Hawthorne looked around then stood in front of the pond flanked by Officer Tyrel as the residents followed him in to sit down on the couches. Pascal escorted Mrs. Primley to a settee to sit beside Fabian, then he positioned himself near Hawthorne so he could watch both Hawthorne, the assembled residents and staff of the estate household and Hawthorne’s three officers. Braque posted himself by the foyer entry where he could monitor all of them. Hawthorne cleared his throat. “To recapitulate, arriving at the bedroom, the paramedics declared the victim to be deceased and immediately contacted the police department, which dispatched homicide investigators. I will not cause anyone further distress by showing again the photos of the room, suffice to say that everyone present here is a witness that the sheets, floors and walls were saturated with blood and other bodily fluids.” Mrs. Primley paled and twisted the kerchief in her hands. Hawthorne resumed. “As you all know, during the first two days of the investigation this was treated as a possible suicide or homicide, but after no wounds were discovered, the investigation was placed on hold pending the laboratory analysis. We have just received it. This is a bit unexpected. The victim died of a fatal case of yellow fever.” There was stunned silence. Inspector Hawthorne coughed slightly as he glanced at Rupert, the husband of the deceased woman. “The department appreciates your cooperation during these difficult past few days as we worked to correctly determine the cause of death.” Rupert stared at Hawthorne, then he shook his head disbelievingly. “This is incredible.” Rupert’s sister, Marion exclaimed. “That’s horrible!” Fabian spoke up quickly. “Is it contagious?” Hawthorne firmly shook his head. “The lab said it is not contagious.” Hawthorne hesitated, less confident. “Inspector Pascal, do you know a little bit more about this?” Pascal stepped over to him, turned away from the group and whispered. “Are they sure it’s yellow fever?” Hawthorne gave him the pathology report and murmured back. “They ran it through twice. Hermione died of yellow fever.” Pascal frowned as he read the summary. At last he turned and answered Fabian. “It’s not contagious, to say in the manner of the flu, for example. It is only passed by the bite of an infected mosquito.” Pascal asked. “Mr. Rupert, you recently traveled to central Africa – Luanda, Angola, specifically?” He nodded, “Yes. My organization sponsors a number of humanitarian projects there.” Pascal continued. “The country is experiencing an un-contained epidemic of yellow fever, which is concentrated in the capital and urban population centers. I presume, Mr. Rupert that in order for you to have been permitted to enter the country or exit it, you had to have presented a valid proof of prior vaccination for yellow fever? You have been vaccinated?” Rupert nodded, “Absolutely!” Mrs. Primley gasped. “Could a mosquito have bitten him and then he gave it to Hermione?” Pascal frowned slightly, “No…” She spread out her hands, “But-but, how then did Hermione get it? She never traveled! She didn’t even have a passport!” Pascal’s expression suddenly hardened. He turned angrily to Inspector Hawthorne. “That is exactly the question to answer! How did Hermione become infected with yellow fever?” Hawthorne glanced at the lab file, then at Pascal. “Sir! There is no possible way Rupert could have infected her from his own blood! The virus is destroyed by the victim’s own immune system by the third day of the illness, so there is nothing to transmit after that even if a mosquito bites. Vaccinated persons are immune. Thus, it was impossible for Hermione to have caught it from Rupert even though he just returned from a yellow fever epidemic zone.” Surprised by Pascal’s rising fury, Hawthorne offered, “That’s good, isn’t it?” Pascal pointed at Rupert. “But he could have infected her with virus-infected mosquitoes, smuggled into the country upon his return!” Rupert was frozen, then he jumped up, livid. “That’s an outrageous charge!” Hawthorne turned to Pascal. “I’m listening, but you have to have proof, Inspector.” Pascal persisted. “The only possible way she could have been infected would have to be by a live female Aedes aegypti mosquito that had taken a blood meal from an infected victim. There are no Aedes mosquitoes in this region, it’s still too cold outside for mosquitoes and there are absolutely no active cases of yellow fever on this entire continent. But there are an overflow of active cases in the hospitals and clinics in Luanda! It’s a simple thing to hold a jar full of hungry mosquitoes against the skin of a sickened person to infect the mosquitoes with the virus. It takes about two weeks for the virus to develop inside the mosquito before it then can be passed to other people. We’ve already confirmed by his passport entry and departure stamps that Rupert spent sixteen days in Angola, plenty of time to infect mosquitoes and to allow the virus to mature. The chilly hold of an airplane on a long-haul flight would have killed them, but the cabin is warm enough if they were carried in hand luggage – in a container!” Hathaway asked. “But, if the city is infested, couldn’t the mosquitoes have just gotten into his luggage?” “No! They would have been crushed!” Pascal turned back to accuse Rupert. “Since you are immune, you could have kept them alive by allowing them to bite you to give them a blood meal from yourself at no personal risk!” Rupert curled his lip. “That’s ridiculous!” Pascal’s expression seemed to freeze for a moment then he abruptly demanded of all of them. “Who here has ever had yellow fever before or has had a vaccination against it?” Nobody moved. After a very long moment hearing only silence and seeing the blank looks on the faces of everyone looking at him, Pascal asked him with growing alarm, “Inspector Hawthorne?” He shook his head. Pascal flushed, then he called to Braque standing at the door. “Sergeant Braque!” Braque slowly shook his head. Disbelieving, Pascal asked again, “Not even one of you?” The entire group – Inspector Hawthorne, the estate residents, the three other uniformed police officers, all shook their heads. Pascal announced. “Inspector Hawthorne, I advise that everyone is to evacuate these premises immediately and to be under orders to submit to quarantine under medical observation, including you!” The others rose to their feet crying out loud in dismay. “No! Why?” Pascal’s alarm was evident. “Even a bottled-up ride is hard on a mosquito, so he had to have transported a good number of them to cover losses during the trip, is that not right Rupert? All he had to do was open the container in Hermione’s bedroom and release the live ones! Hermione died three days ago! The mosquitoes have had over a week to disperse throughout this house to search for live bodies on which to feed. Therefore, there are certainly a number of yellow-fever infected mosquitoes still cached inside this house. Every one of us could have been bitten during the past three days of this investigation, even during the last hour. One bite is enough to pass the virus! Inspector Hawthorne, every paramedic, every police officer and coroner’s office staff, every one of the cleaning staff who was working here must be contacted to see if they have up-to-date vaccinations! Those who don’t must be put under medical observation for the next week to watch for any signs of fever! The onset of yellow fever will manifest within 3 to 6 days from the time a person was bitten by an infected mosquito! Rupert returned home from Luanda two weeks ago. Hermione fell ill five days after he returned and she died only six days after the first onset of her fever. Therefore, the mosquitoes are active, infected and highly dangerous vectors!” Hawthorne was pale, “Pascal! Are you sure?” He gestured nervously. “I haven’t seen even one mosquito here!” Mrs. Primley tugged her cardigan tighter as she spoke up plaintively. “Inspector, I haven’t been feeling well since I woke up this morning.” Pascal stared at her, then at Hawthorne. He turned to look at the pond. The green disks of lily pads floated on the surface of the still water. Pascal cupped his palm and scooped up a handful of water. As the water drained through his fingers, four small brown wiggling things were left behind. Pascal shook his hand to flick them away to the ground and rubbed his palm with his kerchief. Grimly, he looked back at them. “The mosquitoes have already started hatching larvae in this water. They’ve been provided the perfect environment for their eggs and the adults were able to continue to feed freely on an infected victim for those first three days when the virus was still alive in Hermione’s body. It takes about a week for the larvae to emerge from the water as adults, so in fact these larvae here are the least of our problems. They aren’t yet infected, but are simply evidence. The virus-loaded adults that laid the eggs which hatched out in this water are still inside this house!” They all looked at each other with fright on their faces, then nervously around their seats. Mrs. Primley cried. “Will we die… like Hermione did?” Pascal didn’t answer for a long moment, then he replied grimly. “About a fifth of all those infected come down with the hemorrhagic form; of those most die, the rest recover. The older the person is, generally the more severe the attack. But, no one can predict how it will affect an individual.” He glanced at Braque whose face was an impassive mask. Mrs. Primley began to cry. “No one is older than me here and I was with Hermione the entire time!” Hawthorne shook his head as he absorbed all this. “How do you prove all that?” Pascal raised an eyebrow at Rupert. “This mosquito can live up to three months inside a residence.” Pascal glanced around at the room, then he coolly held Rupert’s gaze. “What do you think we will find when the fumigators are finished with this house and have collected all the carcasses of the dead mosquitoes to identify them?” Hawthorne called to Mallory and Ortiz. “Mr. Rupert is under arrest! And we evacuate!” Marion shrieked. She flailed as she scrambled away slapping at her arms and legs. “I saw one! It’s under my chair!” Fabian and Mrs. Primley cried out and fled the settee. Rupert shoved Fabian into the two arresting officers, reached to a huge potted palm near him, snatched up a revolver out of its pot and fired. Hawthorne doubled over. Pascal and Tyrel lunged to catch him as the man began to topple backwards into the pond. “Stay back!” Rupert seized Mrs. Primley and pulled her towards the private quarters. Pascal left Hawthorne to Tyrel, drew his gun and sprinted across the conservatory. He kept aside, out of sight as he yelled. “Rupert! There’s nothing to be gained by this!” Rupert disappeared around the corner at the end of the hallway. Pascal pivoted into the long passage to follow, but was brought up short as a barred security door slid closed in front of him. “Sir! Look out!” Startled, Pascal turned to see the garden of the conservatory disappearing behind a metal panel closing behind him. Sgt. Braque jammed his metal torch between the heavy security door and the frame a second before it shut tight. Unable to pry the door open he shouted through the narrow gap, “Sir! He’s got a safe room system!” Trapped inside, Pascal urged him. “Look, he’s not going anywhere now! Sergeant, you need to leave! You’ll be bitten if you haven’t already been! There’s no cure for yellow fever once it manifests! Get to the hospital! You need to be under observation now! If they catch it early, at the first sign of fever, they have treatments that can improve survival! You have a family; you can’t risk it!” “What about you?” “I’ve been vaccinated! I’m immune!” Braque growled through the gap, “Yeah? Well you’re not immune to bullets! Stuck like this, you’re a fish in a barrel!” Pascal glanced up at the overhead surveillance camera, then quickly aimed and shot out the lens. “Sergeant, get everyone out! Just get out!” “Sir! We can’t get out! He’s locked all the exterior doors and windows! It’s all reinforced glass and our radios are being jammed!” Pascal leaned against the door for a long moment. He took a deep breath, straightened and grimly strode down the hallway to call through the bars. Rupert! Rupert! Listen to me! Look what you’ve done! Inspector Hawthorne needs medical care! Mrs. Primley needs medical care! Sergeant Braque, he’s got a wife and three kids… and what about the other officers, the emergency medical people, all the staff here! You saw how Hermione died! That was your work! Now it’s out of control! Unlock the house!” He heard Rupert’s voice. “I want free passage!” Pascal called back. “I can authorize that!” “I don’t trust you!” “Rupert! You just shot Inspector Hawthorne! Do you think you’ll do better with him, the way he feels about you right now?” “Shut up!” Pascal went back to the other door to speak through the opening, “Sergeant.” “I’m here, sir.” “How’s Inspector Hawthorne doing?” “He’s conscious and we’re keeping him stable, but we don’t have anything to help him.” Braque lowered his voice. “Sir… we have another problem.” A minute later, Pascal crossed back to the barred door and called out, “Rupert!! How many deaths do you want on your hands? Your sister has a fever! Fabian has a fever!” “They’re fine!” “They aren’t now! Do the math Rupert! A person falls ill with yellow fever three to six days after being bitten! You know the day you released those infected Aedes mosquitoes into the house! Did you really believe they’d only bite Hermione? You’re finished; all you can do now is the right thing. Let everyone go so they can get medical care… and surrender!” “Nice try, Inspector!” Pascal shouted. “What about your own sister, Rupert?” Rupert snorted. “What a joke you are Inspector!” Pascal was still. He straightened. “I understand now! She was never at any risk! She’s vaccinated! You plotted together with her to murder Hermione!” There was the BOOM-BOOM of shots. Pascal jerked away as a spark blazed when one bullet ricocheted off one of the metal bars and embedded into the wood paneling. He fired back once and the shooting stopped. Pascal shifted farther away before yelling, “Rupert! You can shoot at me all you want but it won’t change the fact that everything’s going wrong with your fool-proof plan! Marion does have a fever!” “That’s impossible!” “No Rupert! You didn’t do your homework!” “What are you talking about?” “You’ve both been done in by your own scheming hands! Did Marion let the mosquitoes feed on her too, to keep them alive after your arrival while you were sick in bed?” “Keep guessing Inspector!” Pascal shouted, “Rupert! Marion can’t have yellow fever! But she can have dengue fever!” There was a silence, then a laugh. “Nice try! Marion contracted dengue six years ago! She’s immune for life!” Pascal called back. “She would be immune to the one variety of dengue she contracted, but not to the three other varieties of it!” “That’s nonsense!” “Why don’t you just verify it Rupert? Luanda isn’t just in the throes of a yellow fever epidemic; it’s also overflowing with dengue fever cases!” “What nonsense! What makes you such an expert on this?” “I worked in Angola for a year – it always has yellow fever and dengue! It’s very simple! The mosquito Aedes aegypti carries both the yellow fever virus and the dengue virus! What did you do – go to the hospital, bribe a couple of medical staffers who haven’t been paid in months to allow you to let your jar-full of mosquitoes feed on a few patients? Too clever, Rupert! Luanda hospitals are overflowing and overwhelmed – do you really think they have any means to actually verify which viral fever those victims had? Then you and Marion let all those mosquitoes you had feed on you both!” “Shut up!” “Dengue fever is a bit tricky! One can become immune to the one variety, but then be at a higher risk of the severe hemorrhagic form if infected with any of the other varieties afterwards! Marion’s running a 102 fever as we speak!” “You’re lying!” “Really? What were you sick with when you got back here? A fever… did you have a rash? It only takes three days to manifest symptoms after being infected. Let’s see… Three and a half days in travel time – did you arrive sick already? Have you ever had dengue before?” “Shut up!” “I told you to verify! DO it! Call the hospital!” “No!” “Look, Inspector Hawthorne needs to be in hospital! Let Mrs. Primley go! You can have me as your hostage! She’s not physically up to what you need to get out of here!” “Are you kidding? And have to listen to your pseudo-medical drivel? Marion is fine! You’re an incompetent liar!” It was quiet for a long moment, then he heard his sister’s voice calling through the door gap. “Rupert? He’s not lying! I haven’t been feeling well since yesterday! I didn’t think it was anything, but I don’t know anymore! It’s true; the doctors told me six years ago that if I got dengue again I was at a high risk of getting the hemorrhagic form! Let us go! Please! I don’t want to die like Hermione did!” Her voice became plaintive. “Inspector, we didn’t intend for Hermione to die!” Pascal frowned. “What are you saying?” Rupert yelled. “Shut up Marion!” She called back through the gap. “She wasn’t supposed to die! She would have been immune for life!” From the middle of the hallway, Pascal shook his head disbelievingly as he looked towards her. “You thought to naturally inoculate her against yellow fever… by having infected mosquitoes bite her?” “It was her idea!” There was a long silence then Pascal spoke up. “And Rupert agreed to provide the mosquitoes?” “Yes!” Pascal finally spoke. “Marion, was that your intention all along?” “Yes?” “I see.” Pascal nodded slightly. “And what were Rupert’s intentions? Financing his jet-setting humanitarian lifestyle with Hermione’s estate?” Rupert’s voice was low and ominous. “Watch out, Inspector. It’ll be like shooting a fish in a barrel!” Braque’s growl came from the other side. “I told you!” Pascal grimaced. “You’re quite the humanitarian, Rupert!” He called, “Mrs. Primley!” He heard her trembling voice. “I’m here!” Pascal signaled to Braque as he called. “Rupert, let her go!” “Drop your gun!” “Let me see her first!” A moment later, with Rupert’s gun pressed against her head, Mrs. Primley was shoved in front of the barred door. Rupert jerked his chin toward Pascal. “Put down your weapon!” After a long, still moment, Pascal sank down to a crouch. Finally he lowered his pistol and set it on the floor. Staying crouched he raised his hands. The barred door began to slide aside. As Mrs. Primley was shoved into the hallway, Pascal suddenly lunged up and pulled her to the floor. Four shots boomed. Rupert staggered, then collapsed. Pascal grabbed up his pistol and straightened warily, but Rupert was already dead. He stepped over the body, spotted the security control panel, went to it and disengaged the lock-down. Pascal returned to watch the security door open at the other end of the hallway to show Braque extracting his torch and lowering his gun. “Well done, Sergeant.” “Like a fish in a barrel, sir” Pascal helped Mrs. Primley to her feet. “Let's get to hospital, everyone." Braque holstered his gun. “We’re all very ready to go, sir.” by T.K. Naliaka ©2016-2023 All rights reserved
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January 2019
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