Here is the next entry in the modestly anticipated series called... Well I never actually came up with a catchy name for it. Anyway, if you need to see the rules or any explanation, see May I Conduct an Experiment?. The series will be ten episodes long, so bear that in mind with plot development and such. The entries referenced in this episode come up as linked entries wherever your skin usually puts them, and the Post Team have included the next five entries to be used to continue this story at the bottom of this entry. The first person to follow up by adding their name will take on responsibility for the next episode.

Please keep up the challenge of...

Whatever Next...

Episode Three

...'I could really use your help'...

Dave and the man he knew only as 'Buckeye' had been sat in this café in what, to a Londoner like Dave, felt like the middle of nowhere for about half-an-hour now. Dave sipped at his second coffee. He had debated trying to order a tall, skinny, decaf caramel macchiato, but the elderly lady who ran the café had struggled with something as simple as 'two coffees' ordered in an American accent - the precise origin of which Dave still hadn't identified - so he thought it best not to push his luck. The use of such clearly foreign words was, he reflected, more likely to get him arrested for heresy than anything drinkable. The word 'heresy' brought him back to the present with a jolt. Here he was drinking coffee when his girlfriend was in danger of being drowned as a witch by an elderly serial killer with a third nipple fixation.

'So what are we going to do?' he asked.

'That's where you come in," replied Buckeye. 'What do you know about Garbinstein?'

'Not much. He's your typical academic. He practically lives in his office. He knows little about the modern world, and cares for it even less. He can bore for England on the subject of European voting systems. And he has an appalling taste in cardigans. Apart from that, I know as much about him as you do. Less, as you seem to have got it into your head that he's the next Fred West.'

'Fred West?'

'Serial killer. Killed young women...'

'I see. Is there anyone else who might know something about him? His past; his background.'

'I don't know. There must be, but I can't think...' He clicked his fingers. 'Seaver!'

'What?'

'John Seaver. He was at Cambridge with Garbinstein about a hundred years ago. The professor occasionally goes off on one in his lectures and starts rambling about his past. Seaver was his best friend at university.' He paused. 'God knows how we track him down, though. Garbinstein keeps saying he "disappeared off the face of the Earth".'

'Leave that to me. I'll just make a couple of calls.'

Buckeye stood up and left the cafe, pulling out his mobile as he went, leaving Dave with the dregs of his coffee. He'd barely had time to drain his cup when Buckeye came back in.

'Turns out our Mr Seaver didn't disappear off the face of the Earth at all. He retired to somewhere in Norfolk.

"I think that amounts to the same thing," said Dave, getting to his feet. 'When do we leave?'

'My car's out back.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The drive across England from Newport to Norfolk had been uneventful, although now they were stuck in an appalling traffic jam while navigating a charming piece of urban scenery to which the locals they'd asked for directions had referred as 'The Hardwick'. On top of that, Dave was getting a little sick of Buckeye's taste in classical music.

'Haven't you got anything else?' he asked. 'I'm sure that's the third time I've heard that last piece.'

Buckeye reached his hand down from the steering wheel and turned the music off.

'So,' he said, 'tell me about Lisa.'

Dave smiled.

'We met about eight months ago. We both have our favourite desks in the library reading room, and hers was next to mine. One day we got chatting, and that was it.'

'Love over a political science textbook, how romantic.'

'Lisa's not on my course. She graduated last year with a first in French. Now she's doing a PhD: The role of dominance and submission in French literature.'

'Are you saying your girlfriend is studying French bondage?'

'I've never really thought of it quite like that, but...' Dave grinned. 'Yeah, she is!'

Somewhere up ahead, one of many sets of traffic lights turned green for a fraction of a second, and Buckeye nudged the car forward a few feet.

'So where is Lisa, anyway? I thought you'd have wanted to go straight back to London to protect her, not sit here with me in this lousy excuse for town planning.'

'If the murders are heading south-east then she's safe for now. She's gone home for the weekend.'

'"Home", being..?'

'Glasgow. It's Mungo Jerry's birthday, you see, and...'

'Mungo who?'

Dave laughed.

'Mungo Jerry was a band in the 1970s, and her brother's called Gerald, and the building he works in has got this big mosaic of St Mungo in the entrance hall, so obviously everyone calls him...' Dave tailed off as Buckeye stared at him.

'Family in-joke, right?' said the American.

'Er... yeah.'

'The worse kind. Don't go there.'

'Right. Sorry.'

'I mean, it's not even your family.'

'I said "sorry".'

'OK.'

Dave looked out of the window.

'Lights have changed,' he said sulkily.

Buckeye drove on, finally clear of the queue, and they completed the journey to Seaver's house in silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John Seaver was at first suspicious of the two strangers on his doorstep, but at the mention of his old friend Professor Garbinstein his face lit up and he invited them both in.

'So how is Richard?' he asked as he led them into the living room.

'Richard?' asked Dave.

'Ah, yes. Professor Garbinstein to you.'

'Oh... he's... er... fine.'

'Good, good,' murmured Seaver, motioning Dave into an armchair. 'Can I get you a drink?'

'No, I'm fine, thanks.'

'How about you, Mr..?'

'Nothing for me, thanks.'

'As you wish. So, gentleman, how can I help you. I can't believe you've come all the way out here to tell me that an old friend is "fine".'

Dave looked at Buckeye, who sat down on the sofa and looked at Seaver.

'Professor Seaver,' began Buckeye, 'You've known Professor Garbinstein for many years, I believe?'

'Good lord, yes! We met at Cambridge in '57... fifty-one years ago. Mind you, we haven't seen much of each other for the past few years.'

'Why would that be?'

'Oh, no specific reason. I retired, Richard didn't. He stayed in London, I moved to Norfolk. He surrounds himself with young people, I surround myself with orchids.'

'Surrounds himself with young people?'

'Oh, yes. He was always hosting drinks receptions and dinners and the like. What was it he used to say? "The company of youthful intellect halts the decay of the elderly mind".'

Buckeye glanced across at Dave, who nodded.

'Yeah, I've been to a couple of his dinners. Good food, better wine.'

'So the professor liked his students, you'd say?' continued Buckeye.

'Of course,' replied Seaver.

'And did he ever express any opinion on... skin conditions, at all?'

'Skin conditions?' asked Seaver, 'I don't think so.'

Dave suddenly sat up straight.

'Skin conditions!' he said.

'What about them?' asked Buckeye.

'I've got eczema. Do you think...'

'Dave, you're not a woman. You're in no danger.'

'But was eczema something that Hopkins would have looked for?'

'Possibly. We could look it up on Wikipedia.'

'Wiki-what?' said Seaver, trying to follow their conversation.

'You've never heard of Wikipedia?' asked Buckeye.

'You're not missing much,' muttered Dave.

'It's not important,' said Buckeye, 'But returning to Professor Garbinstein's relationship with his students, you don't think he'd ever do anything to... harm them?'

'What do you mean?'

'His female students, perhaps. Did he ever express any... strange opinions?'

'Certainly not! He was always deeply involved in student welfare. He was instrumental in the policy, which I believe is still in place, of free membership of the local gymnasium for students. If you gentlemen have come here to make wild accusations about a very old friend of mine, I shall have to ask you to leave.'

'That's OK, Professor,' said Buckeye, standing up. We were leaving anyway. Thank-you for your time. We'll see ourselves out.'

'What was all that about?' asked Dave when they were outside.

'Don't you get it?' asked Buckeye.

'Get what?'

'Gym membership. We always wondered how Garbinstein identified the women he kills. The presence of a third nipple or birthmark is not something that comes up in polite dinner party conversation.'

'So... you think he's spying on women at the local gym?'

'Yes. I do.'

'That's sick.'

'Sicker than killing them and faking their medical reports?'

'Fair point. So what now?'

'I need to get into that gym.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave had occasionally fantasised about sneaking into the women's showers at the gym, but a male American medical student/detective wouldn't have been his companion of choice. As it was, he and Buckeye were now hanging around outside the gym near closing time late on Sunday night.

'OK,' said Buckeye, 'I think it's clear. You stay here and keep watch while I take a look round.'

'How should I warn you if I see anything? Do we need a code phrase.'

'A what?'

'A code phrase. Like, I can pretend to be talking on my phone, and if I see anyone, I can say the code phrase loudly, and you'll know someone's coming.'

'You've seen too many bad spy films.'

'I like bad spy films.'

'OK. If it'll make you feel better, you can say... I don't know... "Please stop calling my zebra in class".'

'What the hell is that about?'

Buckeye looked slightly sheepish.

'It's a mnemonic. Came in useful in my chemistry AP.'

'Your what?'

'At high school. It's like an extra exam for...'

'Geeks?'

'It got me into Yale,' said Buckeye, defensively, 'And we're wasting time.'

'Right. You go in and I'll say... something about zebras if I see anyone.'

Buckeye was gone only a few minutes. He returned brandishing a small black box and some wires.

'What is it?' asked Dave.

'Camera. Hidden in a light fitting. Garbinstein can see everything.'

'But he couldn't possibly have installed it. I didn't even know he owned a computer. He types his lecture notes on an antique manual typewriter.'

'I think you're right. It looks like he's not working alone.'

Buckeye pocketed the camera and they walked out of the gym into the warm night. As they reached the corner of the street, Dave suddenly grabbed Buckeye's arm.

'What is it,' asked Buckeye.

'If you've disconnected that camera, then Garbinstein, and whoever he's working with, will know we're onto them.'

Buckeye pulled the camera out of his pocket and stared at it.

'I never thought of that,' he said.

The next episode will be based on the following five entries, selected by the Post Team with the Infinite Improbability Drive:

• Euclid's Element.
• Project Gnome.
• Rick Rescorla - Security Manager and Hero.
• Brunost - Norwegian Brown Cheese.
• Ribwort.

If you want to write the next instalment, sign up below.

Danny B.

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