Subject: Just Like Old Times PART I

From: [email-masked] (Michael Francis)
Date: 5 Nov 1994 01:48:05 GMT

Any comment or sugestions on this story are welcome.

                     "Just Like Old Times"

  Agent Dana Scully couldn't seem to look away from the victim, as she 
absently pulled off her
gory rubber gloves.  
  "Anything?"  the police detective asked.
  Anything?  There was actually too much.  A plethora of evidence lay 
smeared across the
pavement.  But all she said was "We'll know more after we get her to the 
lab and do the
autopsy."
  The detective grunted non-comittedly, and left her alone.  She could 
hear him a few yards
away, arranging the details.
   "Snap out of it, Scully."  she whispered to herself,  disposed of the 
gloves, and began to take
care of her own details.  She made sure the police photographer knew 
where to send her
copies,  and arranged for the immediate area to be swept for evidence 
not readily apparent. 
Hairs, fibers, slips of paper; there was no telling what form a key clue 
could come in.  She
spoke softly but clearly into her mini tape recorder, giving her 
impressions of the scene and
known data.
  "This is the second victim in as many weeks.  Both female, both 
prostitutes, both strangled and
disemboweled with the entrails laid neatly beside the body in a display. 
 Evidence suggests a
methodical serial killer.  The bodies were found only two blocks apart, 
 so the killer either lives
here or frequents the area.  Someone local may know him, even suspect 
him.  Personal note,
interface with...extra data source for case comparisons."  She clicked 
off the device, thought it
over, rewound and erased the last sentence.  It wasn't likely she'd 
forget to contact Muldar,
and there was no sense leaving proof that she intended to.
  She ducked under the police tape, and turned to have one last look at 
the scene.  They were
scooping what was left of the girl into a body bag.  She always hated 
that part.  Now the crime
scene was destroyed, and she'd have to rely on photographs and memory.
  "I wonder if your cop buddies know you used to cut gym class to sneak 
smokes behind the
dumpster?"
  Dana turned to find the source of the comment, and froze in 
astonishment.  "Oh, my God." 
she breathed, a smile dawning on her face.  "Lenore!"
  A grubby but somehow charismatic woman smiled down on her.  "Only the 
enigmatic Dana
Scully calls me that and  gets away with it.  Don't mind my attire, it 
was "Easy-Off" day at the
bakery."
  "Bakery?"
  "Where I work.  You know work; as in fingers to the bone."
  Dana shook her head.  "I don't understand.  What are you doing working 
in a bakery?"
  Lenore stiffened slightly, still smiling.  "I have to eat, dear.  
There aren't too many 50k jobs
available to unskilled laborers."  She saw the wrinkle between Dana's 
eyebrows.  "Don't peruse
it, babe.  Bit of a sore spot.  But look at you!  A cop!"
  "No, FBI"
  "Even better!  I think it's perfect for you.  You always had an 
analytical bent.  So?  Is it
working out?"
  Dana nodded, looking away.  "It's...interesting."
  "What.  You don't sound thrilled.  Second thoughts?  I always thought 
you'd be a great
Wagnerian soprano; there's still time."
  Like always, Lenore was able to get her to laugh.  It felt good to 
shake off the grimness of the
day.  "So, Lenore,"
  "Humor me."
  "O.K., Lenny.  Where do you live?  Can I give you a ride?"
  "I'm just across the street.  It's not much, but I think I can manage 
a cup of coffee. 
Interested?"
  "You live here?"  Dana looked in dismay at the half-torn down 
tenement.  
  "I told you,  don't pry."
  "But do your parents know?"
  "Dana,"
  "I mean, you can't really want to live in that...that..."
  Lenore stiffened again and took a step back.  "I told you, I'm fine.  
Can't a person be a little
down on their luck?  Or is it that I had the bad manners to let you know 
about it that bothers
you?"
  She looked at her shoes.  "I'm sure you know what you're doing.  I 
just wondered if you
weren't taking the starving artist bit a shade too far."  She looked 
back up at her friend.  "Damn
it, Lenore,"
  "The invitation for coffee still stands, but keep it up and I'll 
withdraw it."
  "It wasn't gym class.  You were the one who skipped gym.  I only cut 
study hall."
  Lenny smiled.  "Oh, you're right, that's so much less sinful."
  They smiled at eachother for a moment, then Dana glanced over at the 
departing ambulance. 
"I have to take a rain check on that coffee, O.K.?  Hey, since you were 
so close to the scene,
did you notice anything unusual last night?"
  Lenny's face drained of expression.  "Yeah.  You could say that.  But 
I don't think it has
anything to do with that."
  "Oh?"
  "I really can't explain...Look, why don't you come by for that coffee 
around one thirty."
  "It's after three already."
  "I mean in the morning.  I want to show you something."
  Dana studied her friend's face.  "all right, I'm interested.  What's 
it about?"
  "Like I said; I'd rather show you, than try to explain it."
  She nodded, then got an idea.  "You wouldn't mind if I had a friend 
meet us there?"
  "Well I don't know, it may not be that big a deal."
  "He doesn't have to be in on this.  It's just someone I'd like to talk 
over a few things with, and
I wouldn't get to see him otherwise."
  A wide smile spread across Lenny's face.  "Good God, Dana Scully; are 
you seeing a married
man?"       
  "No!"  She looked away.  "Actually, I wish it were that simple."
  "Well, now you got me interested.  Sure, bring your little friend.  
Apartment 5c.  Don't bother
buzzing, the lock is broken.  And don't look at me that way.  See you 
tonight?"
  "Definitely.  Oh, can I bring something?  Wine?  cake?"
  Lenny laughed.  "Don't try to class the place up, it's hopeless.  
Besides, I already have a case
of Mooshead in the fridge; what more could you want?"
  They laughed and said their good-byes, each stealing a hidden glance 
after they parted.

  Much later, Scully stood beneath the broken security light over the 
front entry way to
Lenny's building.  When she saw Mular's car pull up, she stayed in the 
shadows a few moments
to be sure he hadn't been followed, then went to meet him.
  "Some interesting friends you must have."  he said quietly, once in 
ear shot.
  Scully shook her head.  "I have no idea what Lenny's doing here.  I 
mean, she always did
have to do things differently than anyone else, but this..."  she took 
one last look at the
crumbling facade before they entered.  "...this is more different than 
usual.  Anyway, that's not
what's important right now.  I really wanted to get your opinion of this 
case I'm working on."
  He nodded.  "Well, why don't we go upstairs before we get mugged?"
  They tried to take the stairs at a good clip, but somewhere between 
the third and forth landing
the unspoken agreement was made to slow down.
  "So let me get this strait."  Muldar tried not to pant.  "Your 
friend's a girl, but her name is
Lenny."
  "Really it's Lenore, but she always hated it.  Said every time she 
heard it, it made her want to
caw."
  "To what?"
  "Caw.  You know; Poe?  Lenore?  Quothe the raven-"
  "I get it, I get it."    He paused a moment to catch his breath, then 
went on.  "How long have
you known her?"
  "Since the eight grade.  That's when she insisted she attend public 
school."
  "Ah.  It's like that, is it?"
  "I told you she's different.  God, there's the fifth floor."
  Once on the landing, they easily spotted Lenny's apartment;  the door 
stood open, with light
and music pouring into the hallway.   Scully went first, poking her head 
in the doorway.
  "Don't your neighbors complain about the noise?"  she asked Lenny, who 
was seated on a
tattered sofa across the room.
  "Don't have any."  Lenny jumped up and crossed the floor.  "C'mon in." 
 She wore
deceptively simple looking khaki slacks and a cream tee shirt.  The 
quality of the fabric hinted
at less than simple price tags.  "Who's your friend?"
  Scully smiled, noticing Lenny's bare and perfectly pedicured feet.  
The grungy bag lady she'd
met in the street was gone, and the old Lenny was back.  "This is my 
former partner, Fox
Muldar.  Muldar, Lenore Pape."
  Lenny sized him up as she offered her hand.  "Fox?  As in what a?"
  At loss for a response,  Muldar simply nodded and shook her hand.
  "God, you two must have been great partners;"  Lenny said, "you're 
just as stiff as she is. 
Come have a seat and...try to relax."
  After exchanging a glance, Scully and Muldar followed Lenny in, handed 
over their coats, and
sat down.  She put the coats on a wall rack, and gently closed the door. 
 "We have a little time. 
Do either of you want some coffee or a beer?  I don't have guests too 
often, so my larder's not
very stocked."
  Muldar looked over at Scully.  "Time for what?"
  Scully shrugged a little and looked at Lenny, who stood with her arms 
folded.
  "I'd rather not say."  Lenny answered.  "Let's just see what happens. 
 You guys like
experiments, right?  Anyway, we have about twenty minutes.  If you need 
anything, I'll be in the
kitchen."
  After Lenny left, Muldar gave Scully another questioning look; which 
she waved off.  Picking
up her briefcase, she pulled out a folder full of photos and spread them 
across the coffee table
in front of them.
  "Tell me what you think of these."  She said.  "Both were from this 
area, both prostitutes, both
strangled and, well, you can see the rest."
  Muldar carefully examined each picture, his head leaning to one side.
  "Could it be a Jack the Ripper copy cat?"
  "Not if he did his homework."  Muldar murmured.  "The placement of the 
organs is all wrong. 
Someone going through this much trouble would at least try to get his 
facts straight.."
  "Seen anything like this before?"
  He paused a few moments, studying the pictures.  "Sure; on a 
dissecting board, with frogs."
  "It is odd, how all the organs are so neatly and evenly spaced.  Do 
you think he could be a
doctor or a scientist?"
  "Maybe.  Hmmm.  That's interesting."
  "What?"  Scully tilted her head to try and see what he saw.
  "What's this?"  He pointed to an organ in the picture.
  "A Liver."
  "And this?"
  "Kidneys"
  "Hmmm."  He turned the photo upside down.
  "What?"  Scully repeated.
  "Look at the order of the organs."
  "Yes?"
  "Maybe you should be looking for a deranged librarian.  The organs are 
laid out in
alphabetical order."
  A muffled laugh was heard from the kitchen, which Scully ignored.  
"Let me see that."  She
took the picture and studied it.  "You're right.  I don't know why I 
didn't notice..."
  "I knew there had to be some reason he laid them out so carefully."
  "The other one, too."
  "Why do you assume it's a man?"  Lenny asked, standing in the kitchen 
doorway.
  "There aren't many female serial killers."  Muldar answered, still 
studying the photos.  "Even
fewer who can kill with their bare hands."
  Lenny came closer, looking over their shoulders.  "But they look like 
they were cut open."
  "After death."  Scully answered, slowly looking up at her friend.  
"They died by strangulation. 
Maybe you should think about moving, or at least staying with your 
parents for awhile."
  "You said he only kills prostitutes."
   "That may not be a hard and fast rule."  Muldar interjected.  "Maybe 
he's only killed
prostitutes so far because they were readily available."
  Lenny was quiet for a little while, thinking.  "What time do you think 
the last one happened?"
  "Between two or three in the morning."  Scully answered.  She noticed 
this startled her friend. 
"Why?"
  "I go to work at two thirty most mornings, except on oven cleaning 
day; I get to go in at ten. 
If yesterday hadn't been my day to scrub ovens..."
  "Still think I worry too much?"
  "I'll admit you have a point.  Hold on,"  Lenny glanced at her watch. 
 "It's almost time."
  "Time for wha-"
  "Shhh!"
  
  For nearly half a minute, they sat in silence listening to the vague 
rumbling of bad plumbing. 
Suddenly, the dinette table near the kitchen began to tremble as if one 
leg were shorter than the
others.  Then the three chairs around the table began to clatter and 
jitter away from the table. 
Everything else stood perfectly still, but the dinette set was boogying 
to beat the band.  After a
minute, they suddenly stopped.  Somewhere downstairs a toilet flushed, 
but everything else was
silent.
  "Is that what you brought me here to see?"  Scully asked, breaking the 
silence.  "So how'd
you do it; wires?"
  Muldar got up without a word and examined the furniture.
  "See for yourself, Dana."  Lenny answered.  "It isn't a trick."
  "Then what is it?"
  "You tell me."
  Scully shook her head in mild exasperation.  "If it isn't a trick, 
then there's a logical
explanation.  Vibrations from passing traffic, or a water pipe..."
  "Every night?"
  "This happens every night?"  Muldar interrupted.
  "Muldar,"  Scully shook her head again.  "Lenny was always pulling 
stuff like this.  She's the
practical joke queen.  I'm sure it's all a set up, right down to the 
story about working in a
bakery.  A bakery?  God!"
  Lenny smiled.  "Not this time, Dana;  but I'm just glad you saw it.  
Proves I haven't been
imagining it.   Your mind can play tricks on you, alone at two in the 
morning."
  "There's a white powdery substance on the shoes by the door."  Muldar 
said, squatting down
and looking at the floor under the table.  "Could be flour or 
confectioner's sugar.  These darker
scrapes on the floor look like the lighter ones the table made tonight, 
only older.  Depending on
how often the floor is swept and mopped, could be several days."
  Lenny cleared her throat.
  "Or weeks."  Muldar amended, smiling vaguely and examining the 
underside of the table.
  "You're buying into this?"  Scully asked him.
  "Why not?"  He straightened up and turned to Lenny.  "If you don't 
mind, I'd like to let a
friend of mine see this.  He has some equipment that may help us pin 
down the source of the
vibration."
  "Sure.  I'm usually up anyway.  I start walking at two thirty."
  "You walk to work?"  Scully gasped.
  Lenny shrugged.  "Buses don't run."
  Muldar cut in.  "If this is as interesting as I think it is, you'll 
have a ride to work for a week or
so."
  "Great."  Lenny smiled.
  Scully opened her mouth to say something, closed it, then changed the 
subject.  "Well, I've got
to get going.  I have to work in a few hours.  Do you need a ride 
tonight?"
  "No, thanks, it's my day off."
  "Well..."
  Lenny smiled again, reached over, and squeezed Scully's hand.  "Thanks 
again for coming by. 
I wasn't kidding about wanting to make sure I wasn't going crazy.  Until 
I saw you outside,
though, I couldn't think of anyone I could trust.  If old steadfast 
Scully can see it, it must be for
real."
  Scully smiled back.  "If...you want to talk, I'm in the book.  Call 
any time."
  "Geez, Dana!"  Lenny laughed.  "Cut the melodrama, all right?"  She 
stood and led them to the
door.  Once they had their coats, they said their good-byes and left.

  Dana descended the stairs slower than she had climbed them, lost in 
thought.  Lost in his own
thoughts, Muldar kept pace.  About halfway down, he broke the silence.
  "Well?  What do you think?"
  "I think I'm getting too grown up."
  "I could have told you that."  He smiled.  "I meant the dancing 
furniture.  Do you really think
it's a trick?"
  "I honestly don't know."  She paused and glanced back up the stairs.  
"I know something's not
right, but what else could it be?"
  "Well, it could be natural causes; but I think the rest of the 
apartment would have been
somewhat effected.  Lenny set a cup of coffee on the table, and the 
coffee didn't even show a
ripple."
  Scully looked at her ex-partner in amazement.  "You had time to look 
at the coffee?  How do
you think of these things?"
  "Could it have been telekinesis?"
  "Why?  To get attention?"
  "Maybe it's subconscious.  You said something's not right.  Could be 
stress."
  "I don't know.  I know she doesn't belong here."
  "Why not?"
  She paused at the bottom of the stairs.  "Lenore Pape is of the 
Richmond Papes.  Her mother
is Charlotte VanBuren, of the Washington VanBurens.  At sixteen, she was 
formally presented
at the Mayflower Society Annual Debutante Ball.  Lenore Pape does not 
belong in a soon to
be condemned tenement, and she certainly does not belong in a blue 
collar job at a bakery."
  "You said something about her insisting on attending public school."
  "That was different.  She always kept up her social image for her 
parent's sake."
  "A fight with her parents?"
  "They dote on her.  I guarantee, they'd be the ones to move out of the 
family mansion, if she
wanted it that way."
  "Maybe she's rebelling."
  "It just doesn't fit."
  All this was more information than Muldar wanted, but he realized she 
just wanted to sort
things out aloud.  "So you've never noticed something to support the 
telekinesis theory?"
  "Huh?  No."  She opened the door and headed to her car.
  "So it's probably external."
  "I guess."
  He stopped by her car.  "What's wrong?"
  She looked up at the building.  "I'm just worried about her.  She's 
her all alone, there's a
maniac on the loose,..."
  "...Her furniture has no sense of rhythm..."
  Scully laughed and looked away.
  "Look, here's the deal:  I'll see what I can do about the possessed 
dinette and give her rides to
work, and you catch the maniac.  O.K.?"
  "Sure."  she threw her hands up.  "Simple.  "I'll start by checking on 
all the file clerks with
medical degrees."  
  "Or the ones who didn't pass."
  They looked at eachother for a moment.  "Embittered medical school 
flunk-outs."  Scully
murmured.  "Not bad."
  "I do what I can."  he smiled.