Randolph Mason free porn video

THE CASE OF RANDOLPH MASON (c) 2014, 2017 by Anthony Durrant I went into the room of Special Prosecutor Randolph Mason and found him gasping for breath, his eyes wide from shock, and his mouth wide open. I couldn't see his skin under his bandaged face, but I'd bet anything that it was as pale as a piece of tissue paper. I ran to get Dr. Merton, the plastic surgeon who'd operated on the Special Prosecutor, and the two of us returned to Mason's room. By that time, he'd ceased sweating and gasping: he had died only minutes earlier. "His face rejected the grafts!" Dr. Merton cried. "This is terrible! If anyone in the city knew Randolph Mason was dead, they'd dig into his background for sure, and s great number of criminals he freed would have to be retried and maybe put back in prison! No, the only way to prevent that is for you to allow me to surgically make you look like Randolph Mason, so that you can assume his identity, Parkinson. Since you look a lot like him already, the surgery should be pretty easy." Dr. Merton was right, I realized: Randolph Mason must remain legally alive so that nobody could look into his past. "I'm in!" I cried, and Dr. Merton cried: "Wonderful! I'll take you to the operating room, and we can begin right away!" *** Two weeks later, I headed into the local courtroom at about 9:00 A.M., my brieface full of notes for the case "Randolph Mason" was about to try. When I got to the courtroom door, I met none other than Fun Factory! He smiled at me and said: "It's good to see you back at your post after so long in the hospital, Mason!" "Thank you, Mr. Factory!" I replied. "But we have an excellent case against this man, and I don't think you can stop the wheels of justice this time!" "Let's find out, shall we?" he asked as the doors to the courtroom swung open automatically and the two of us walked into the courtroom itself. After rising when the judge entered the room, I got right down to business, opening my briefcase and saying: "The state will prove, your Honour, that the accused in this case, Charles Donkey, was an aquaintance of the victim, Ms. Claudia Heppelin. He seduced her with his good looks, then spiked her wine with a sedative. After she'd gone to sleep, he took her back to her apartment in the Bronx, where he had his wat with her, ending her life when she put up a fight. I hope the state can bear with me, for I have only just returned from a three-month stay at the hospital after that terrible accident I was injured in." Then I rose to my full height and said: "The state calls its first witness, Dr. Otis Redding!" Dr. Redding took the stand and was sworn in. "Dr. Redding," I asked him "you examined the body of the victim. Could you please tell the court what you discovered?" "My autopsy revealed that the cause of death was manual strangulation. There was tissue on the inside of the victim's fingernails, and when my team analyzed that tissue, we found that the D.N.A. matched that of the defendant in this case, Mr. Charles Donkey, indead and without a doubt!" "No further questions, Dr. Redding!" I said, and returned to my place at the prosecutor's table, at which point Fun rose to his feet and went over to Dr. Redding and asked him: "Did your team find any trace of a drug in the victim's system when you performed the autopsy?" "No, we did not!" Dr. Redding admitted. "Did you or your team find any trace of alcohol in the victim's system?" "Yes," the doctor replied, "she'd been drinking burgundy." "No further questions, Dr. Redding!" Fun said, and Dr. Redding was allowed to return to the witness area as I texted Dr. Merton with my IPAD. I could see where Fun was leading: he was trying to show that Donkey hadn't spiked Ms. Hamelin's drink at the time of the crime. Scanning the witness list, I said to the judge: "The state calls Anna Cleary to the stand!" A tall woman with auburn hair went up to the stand and was sworn in. I asked her: "You are a chemist for the state, are you not?" "I am, yes!" she replied, and the I asked her: "Did you analyze the stains found on the dress worn by the victim on the night of her death?" "I did indeed!" Dr. Clancy replied, and I asked her: "Could you please tell the court what you found?" "The stains consisted of burgundy and a sedative known as ethyl chloride, which is a favourite of those evil men who molest other women. It only lasts for a few minutes, but it can put a female victim to sleep long enough for a pervert to do his business on her." "No futther questions, your Honour!" I said. Fun rose from his chair and asked Dr. Cleary: "Could you please tell us how ethyl chloride works?" "Ir puts the victim to sleep and relaxes their muscles, so that they don't put up a fight when the pervert makes his attack, allowing him to overpower his victim." "No further questions, Dr. Cleary!" Fun replied, and Dr. Cleary returned to the witness area. "The state calls Lieutenant Arthur Collins" I cried. Collins took the witness stand and was duly sworn in. "When you entered Ms. Hamelin's mind apartment after being called to the scene of the crime, Lieutenant, what did you discover?" I asked the Lieutenant. "We found Ms. Hamelin's body lying on the floor, facing upward!" he replied. "There was nothing around her neck, but bruises there indicated that she had been strangled by a strong pair of hands." "Was the crime scene disturbed in any way?" I asked. "No, it was not!" he replied. "Please tell the court what led you to suspect Mr. Donkey as Ms, Hamelin's killer?" I asked him. "We found his fingerprints on a wine goblet in the apartment and immediately brought him in for questioning. Because his fingerprints were found at the crime scene and he denied even being there. I arrested Donkey while we were questioning him." "No more questions, Lieutenant!" I said, and as it was nearing lunch time, the judge called a noonday recess, and Fun and I left the courtroom and headed down to the cafeteria on the courthouse's basement level. "We've got you dead to rights, Counselor!" I said as the two of us entered the cafeteria. "Donkey killed Ms. Hamelin: there can be no doubt about that." Just before we went up to the counter with the two trays we'd selected, I spotted a hot drinks stand nearby. Because the pouch for the green tea was empty, I chose the black tea instead and had the lady at the counter brew the tea for me. Then we placed our trays on the railing attached to the counter and both of us selected todat's special - meatballs and spaghetti - before paying for the lunches and the drinks and seating ourselves at one of the tables. As I was eating my lunch and drinking my tea, Fun said: "You're right, Mason - it does appear you have a dead-bang case against Charles Donkey for the murder of Claudia Hamelin: the D.N.A. evidence gathered by the rposecution indicts him completely. I'll have to go for a lengthy sentence insead of the supreme penalty." A tall thin man in a black suit walked up to me and sat down right beside me. He said: "Mr. Mason, my name is Jason Doggie, and I am an insurance investigator for the Camberwell Life Insurance Company. I have been looking into the terrible accident in which you were so horribly injured." "Surely, the payment to the family of Martin Rathbone - the other driver, who was killed in the accident - has been received and accepted by now!" I replied. "That can't happen Mr. Mason, until you sign this statement in which you admit you were driving drink and are, therefore, responsible for the accident." Doggie retorted. He then handed me a statement that read: "I, Randolph Percival Mason, admit that on the night of April 23, I was driving my car while intoxicated, and that while I was in that state I went off the centre line and hit the car driven by Martin Rathbone, who was killed instantly on impact." "GLADLY!" I cried as I signed the statement and handed it back to him, after which he rose from the table and left the cafeteria. Fun said: "I don't think you should've signed that statement just yet, Mason. The inquest isn't over yet -" "Rathbone's family will only receive the insurance money if I admit to having been the cause of the accident, Counsellor!" I replied. "Either way, I'm liable in Mr. Rathbone's demise, so if I hadn't signed, the Rathbones could've sued me for the money in court." "Not necessarily!" Fun replied. "The Rathbones will get the money regardless of whether you signed or didn't sign that statement, because Camberwell has to pay out on their policy." "I should have thought of that!" I cried. *** A few hours later, after court had ended for the day, I followed Fun to the carpark. "You certainly work hard for your money!" Fun said, and I smiled at him and replied: "We've got you six ways from Sunday, Counsellor! We've put on our best evidence now, and so it is you who must prove your client innocent!" The two of us got in our seperate cars and returned to our seperate flats. When I left my flat a little later to have supper at the restuarant on the tenement's first floor, I stopped at the warm drinks stand there and had the proprietor make me some delicious, soothing, decaffinated green tea. When he handed me a full cup, I asked him: "Could you please tell me your name, sir?" "It's Mickey Finn!" he replied. I said: "Well, thanks for the lovely tea, Mickey!" I went into the restaurant and ordered myself a Double Chicken Leg Dinner, with which I had my tea, then laid back in my chair because I felt very tired. A few minutes later, I fell asleep. When I awoke, I found myself on my bed - with a pretty red-haired girl right beside me, her arms around my waist. There was a loud thump as the door flew open and Doggie came into the room. "So, this is what cooks! Mr, Special Prosecutor, you are going to have to pay big money for the camera containing these digital photographs!" "What digital photographs?" I asked. "These!" said a slender red-haired man as he ran into the room and used his digital camera to take three snapshots of me and the girl together. He then helped the woman up and asked her: "Are you okay, Kitty?" "Yeah, I am!" she replied. "All of a sudden, I fell asleep - then I woke up here in Mr, Mason's flat. How did I come to be here on his bed, Jason? Did Mr. Mason bring me up here?" "Yeah, he did!" Doggie replied. "At least, that's the story we'll sell to the cops if Mr. Mason doesn't pay us for the photos, eh girl?" :How much do I owe you?" I asked Doggie. "Sixty bucks!" he replied, and, as he removed the camera's thumb drive, the cameraman said: "That, of course, includes my fee!" I wrote out a cheque for $60.00 immediately from a chequebook on the bedside table and handed it to Doggie, who smiled and said. "You'll receive the photographs by email. As for that statement you signed, it's already in the hands of the Camberwell Insurance Company - and they now have this cheque to compare it to!" The three of them then left the room, and I promptly reached for the phone and called Fun Factory at his home in the city. When his answering machine responded to the call, I waited until after the beep and then said as quietly as I could: "Good evening, Counselor - this is Randolph Mason speaking. I have just been made a victim of what used to be called 'the Badger Game.'" I then described what had happened to me and gave him Doggie's name before signing off, then again texted Dr. Merton, informing of the situation as well. Then I went back to sleep again. The next morning, after breakfast, I went directly to see Fun at his law office after reporting the incident to the police. I told him: "While I realized it was a frame when the cameraman made me include his bill in the payment, others might not. My enemies might make it impossible for me to continue working as a special prosecutor! I want you to help me put Mr. Doggie behind bars!" "How did you end up in your bed/" Fun asked me, and I replied: "That man at the hot drinks stand, Mickey Finn, must have slipped me a Mickey Finn!" y"Usually when people played the Badger Game in the past, it was to force the victim to pay them for the photographs and the negatives. Although that is what Doggie did, I have a feeling we are playing for grater stakes than mere money!" Fun replied. "I'll have Barney Paxton look into this right away: he was always quite a fan of old con games!" "Thanks, Counselor!" I replied. *** Upon returning to my home, I opened my laptop computer and checked my email. It turned out that Doggie had indeed sent the pictures by email, and so I printed out the email containing the pictures and put the newly created hardcopy into a binder marked EVIDENCE. Then I looked up Doggie's name in the phone book and phoned his number. When Doggie's answering service replied - he was away at the office - I left a voice mail in which I informed him I'd received the pictures and asked that he go no further. A few minutes later, my Blueberry rang and I answered it. "This is Barney Paxton speaking!" Barney's voice replied. "I've been investigating your Mr. Doggie - it turns out he actually is an investigator with the Camberwel Insurance Company, just like he said. According to his superior officer, Dogggie uses very unorthodox methods to build a case against anyone who thinks they can commit insurance fraud and get away with it." "Do you know where Mr. Doggie lives?" I asked. "31 Clydesdale Avenue, Apartment 312!" he replied. "That's the address I found in the phone book!" I replied. "Barney, I'll meet you in front of the apartment in ten to fifteen minutes and pay a call on our supposedly clever investigator friend!" "I'd like that very much!" he replied. *** When I arrived at Doggie's apartment house, I got out of my car and entered the building, rendezvousing with Barney in the lobby. We went up in the elevator to the second floor, and then headed to Apartment 312. The door was ajar, so I opened it and went in. There, on the floor lay the body of Jason Doggie, stabbed through the heart with a letter opener. "We better call this in!" Barney cried. I said: "I quite agree." Later, after giving my statement and fingerprints to the police, I went back home to my apartment, where I had my breakfast before heading for the courthouse again. As I came up to the door, I was grabbed by Lieutenant Collins, who promptly handcuffed me and read me my legal rights before saying quietly: "Parkinson Farmer, I am placing you under arrest for the murder of Jason Doggie and the impersonation of Randolph Mason, the Special Prosecutor!" "Well, I/m glad it's all over!" I said. "I hated the idea of impersonating Randolph Mason right from the beginning, but Dr. Merton persuaded me to attempt it. I didn't kill Doggie, but but because I assisted in the surgery Dr. Merton performed on Randolph Mason, I am 50% responsible for his death, a fact I do not take lightly. I will never forgive myself, in fact, for potentially bringing about Mason's death!" "How so?" Fun asked, and I replied: "Dr. Merton insisted on grafting skin from a John Doe in the morgue onto Mr. Mason's face, because he didn't feel there was enough tissue left to justify using artificially grown skin. I tried to urge him to do so several times before we operated on Mason, but he refused. So, we rebuilt Mason's face using the donor tissue, hoping his own skin would regenerate enough to absorb the donor tissue. Evidently, that didn't happen, but Randolph Mason did die as a direct result of Dr, Merton's surgical efforts!" "Where is Dr. Merton?" Fun asked, and I replied: "Where he usually is, presumably - at his office!" *** The next morning, I was taken to the D.A.'s office, where I apologized to him personally for posing as Randolph Mason. It was there I met Deborah Chicken, who was to prosecute me at my preliminary hearing later that morning. I'd requested the meeting because I felt badly about being forced to pose as Randolph Mason by Dr. Merton. "Will Dr. Merton be facing any charges?" I asked her. "He'll be facing a conspiracy charge!" she replied. I then allowed myself to be taken across the hall to the courtroom, where I rested myself beside Fun at the defendant's table Deborah Chicken then seated herself at the prosecution's table, and after both sides revealed they were ready to begin, the preliminary hearing began. Ms. Chicken then the preeminent plastic surgeon Dr. Otis Kadaver to the stand, and he was sworn in as a witness. Then Ms. Chicken asked him: Dr. Kadaver, when you saw t the face of Randolph Mason after his death, you had the opportunity to observe the grafts attached to it. Can you please tekk this court what you saw?" "I saw that Dr. Merton had taken the face off a single cadaver as a series of strips and then attached it to Mr. Mason's ruined face after removing the charred tissue, thereby effecting a complete facial transplant." "Why did Randolph Mason die?" Ms. Chicken asked. "Randolph Mason died because he was not a match to the John Doe Dr. Merton took that face from. His immune system rejected the John Doe's face, and Mr. Mason died only after a few days with his new face on!" "No further question, your Honour!" Ms. Chicken said as she stepped aside to allow Fun to question the doctor. He asked Dr. Kadaver: "I would like you to take a look at the defendant's face. Knowing that he too had gone under Dr. Merton's surgical scalpal, what do you think of the work he did?" "I think it's a splendid piece of work, worthy of a man of Dr. Merton's prodigious talent, ignorant though he may be of the process of tissue rejection. The only reason I can tell the face of the defendant is not his natural one is that the nose is too straight." "No further questions, Dr. Kadaver!" Fun said, and the good doctor resumed his seat in the witness area. *** After the medical examiner had been called and given his testimony, the court recessed for lunch, and Fun and I had a nice long talk in my courtroom cell afterward. "Why didn't you tell me Dr. Merton was performing facial transplants?" "I didn't think it was relevant to the case!" "It is, Parkinson, because your mentor has probably grafted John Doe faces onto other people. That means his and your reputation and future are at stake!" "Yes," I finally admitted, "Dr. Merton's been performing facial transplants under the guise of repairing people's faces for about a year now - he's done three transplants already, including that of Mr. Mason. Whenever he learns of a John Doe who bears a resemblance to the patient, he has the John Doe brought to his operating room, and then the two of us perform the facial transplants together. The John Doe is then returned to the morgue - without a face, of course!" "And it's worked?" Fun asked, and I replied: "Yeah, it's worked! The first two recipients of the donor faces are still alive and kicking, as far as I know, and don't realize they've had facial transplants. They think their faces have been restored by good old-fashioned plastic surgery!" "Doesn't Dr. Merton realize these people's bodies could reject their transplanted faces?" "Oh, he does, all right! For a short time after surgery, he gives them immunosuppressant disguised as a vitamin capsule. After he judges there's no chance for rejection, he has the patients return home, where they complete their recovery." *** I later learned from Barney that he and Fun had traced one of the facial transplant recipients using data from Dr. Merton's files, he'd discovered one of them was a Lebanese-American businessman named Anton Kraklow. Kraklow had been a restauranteur who'd injured his face when a gas stove had exploded. His emergency room surgeon had recommended Dr. Merton to Kraklow as being the best plastic surgeon in the whole city, and a few days later, Anton Kraklow had unknowingly become the recipient of a full- fledged facial transplant. "I'd like to investigate this Mr. Kraklow!" Fun said. "You don't even know where to start!" Barney cried. "That may be true," Fun replied, "but I can look up Mr. Kraklow's address in the phone book and then we'll pay him a quiet little visit tonight!" When Barney and Fun arrived at Mr. Kraklow's home that night, they saw that the lights weren't on: the house was empty so they got out of their car and went up to a nearby picture window. Through the window, they could see the body of a man lying on the floor, with his face turned away from them. Hurrying over to the door, Fun unlocked it with a skeleton key, and after he'd opened it, he and Barney went into the house and quietly entered the living room, which was where the man's body lay. The face turned out to be that of someone Barney recognized! "This is J. Murray Geltzen, an insurance investigator!" he told Fun. "He and I've worked a few cases together - good man, good man. How in the world can he have let this happen to him?" A briefcase was lying on the floor next to the body, Fun opened it and found an insurance police inside the main compartment. The police was made out to Dr. Merton himself! "I think we're on to something!" Barney said. "Geltzen must've been meeting someone here about this policy!" "But who could it have been?" Fun asked. "Either Merton of Kraklow!" Barney replied. "It appears that Merton is Kraklow's beneficiary, so he would be the one to get the amount listed in this policy: one hundred thousand dollars!" Fun went over to the phone and dialled O, then asked the operator to connect them to the police. Before leaving the crime scene, they looked up and spotted a note written on the wall in blood: "You seek me here, you seek me there, You seek to find me everywhere. I'm not up high - I'm not down low. I'm the damned elusive Joe Kraklow!" When Fun returned to the living room, he saw the poem and gasped in horror. "Who could've written that?" he asked Barney. "Our culprit!" Barney replied. "And he's just savvy enough to believe we wouldn't be able to find him." "We'd better get out of here before the police come, and I'll put this insurance policy back in Geltzen's briefcase before we go. By morning, the news of Mr. Geltzen's murder will be all over the headlines, and that poem will be on the front page of every newspaper here in Edmonton. Therefore, Anton Kraklow will soon be forced to show his new face in court for the very first time!" *** The next day, when the court convened. Ms. Chicken addressed the jury with the following words: "The discovery of J. R. Geltzen's murder has shed a whole new light on this case. It seems that, in return for the restoration of his facial features, Anton Kraklow made Dr. Merton the beneficiary of his life insurance policy, as did the first victim, Charles Hatfield, and Randolph Mason, who died of tissue rejection. Geltzen was investigating the connection between Kraklow and Merton when he was discovered in Kraklow's office and killed. The state calls Anton Kraklow to the stand!" A tall man with a pale face rose from the audience area and walked over to the witness stand, where he took the oath and was promptly sworn in. "On October the eleventh last, did Dr. Merton operate on you to restore your facial features?" "He did!" Kraklow said, and Ms Chicken asked: "What did you give Dr. Metton in return?" "I made him the beneficiary of my life insurance policy." "And how much was the policy for?" she asked. "One hundred thousand dollars!" he replied. "Your witness, Counselor!" Ms. Chicken said as she seated herself at her table to allow Fun to cross exaamine Anton Kraklow. Fun asked him: "When did you learn for the first time that you had undergone a facial transplant?" "When Mr. Geltzen called me up after Randolph Mason was found to have died of tissue rejection!" Kraklow replied. "He had been looking into Mason's death, and had uncovered the faceless John Doe the man's new face had been taken from in the morgue." "When did you first encounter Mr. Geltzen?" Fun asked Kraklow, and the restauranteur replied: "When I came home last night and found him lying dead in the office, with a man in a black sweatsuit and balaclave standing over his prone body." "Can you identify that man?" Fun asked, and Kraklow replied: "He was slender, so it must have been the defendant!" "No further questions, your Honour!" Fun said, and then Mr. Kraklow stood down. He then returned to the defense table and asked me: "Were you in Herr Kraklow's office last night?" "I don't even know where that is!" I replied. "I promise you, Fun, that I only assisted Dr. Merton in his work until I went after the knife myself so that I could impersonate Randolph Mason for him. He was so terrified of the possibility of a review of all of Mason's cases that I couldn't say 'no' to him." "Parkinson!" Fun whispered back. "If he's afraid of a review, that means he's got to be one of Mason's early cases, ones he had while he was still working here in the youth court. I'll ask Barney to open Randolph Mason's files and see who he was able to get acquiited!" *** Fun later told me that when Barney had brought Mason's files to his office, the two of them looked through them with a fine toothed comb, going through case after case after case after case until they found a record of a boy named Merton Hardscrabble Bremen who had, it appeared, knifed another boy in a fight over Dungeons and Dragons game manuals that one of them had. The other boy had died, and Randolph Mason managed to send him to a juvenile detention centre. After he was released on turning eighteen, the boy's name had been legally changed and he'd dropped out of sight. After reading the record, Fun turned to Barney and said: "We need to get going and find out more about this Merton Bremen - although I have a funny feeling that I know precisely who he now is!" *** When Fun and Barney returned to the courtroom, I'd been brought in already, and they seated themselves at the defense table. Ms. Chicken entered the room and shouted: "The state calls Dr. Francis Merton to the stand!" I was astonished to see Dr. Merton take the stand. "Did you operate on the defendant's face?" Ms. Chicken asked, and Dr. Merton said: "Yes, I did." "Why did you surgically alter the defendant's face?" Ms Chicken asked, and Merton replied: "Because I knew that if it was discovered that Randolph Mason was dead, there would be a review of his files, and it would be discovered that I was one of his juvenile court cases." "No further questions!" Ms. Chicken said as she seated herself at the prosecution's table and Fun rose. "Isn't it true that you are actually Merton Bremen, Randolph Mason's only murderer at the juvenile court, Dr. Merton?" he asked. Merton cried: "The devil told you that, Mr. Factory!" "Wasn't that why you were willing to kill two insurance incestigators for - that as a juvenile, you stabbed another boy to death in a quarrel over a set of Dungeons and Dragons game manuals?" "YES!" Dr. Merton cried, and Fun said: "When I mailed a copy of your old file to Ms. Chicken's office, I asked her to go to the records and confirm your new name for Barney and me. that's why she called you as a withness this afternoon!" "Both eMr. Doggie and Mr, Geltzen were investigating Mason's death!" he cried. "They'd have inevitably looked in the juvenile court's record and found the transcript of my hearing all those years ago. They could've used the information in that file to get Mr. Mason disbarred posthumously for what he did to prevent me from being tried as an adult for that crime. So, yes, I killed Mr. Doggie, then I trailed Mr. Geltzen to Anton Kraklow's office, entered the building by the window, and clubbed Mr. Geltzen on the back of the neck to insure that he died painlessly and quietly, with no large injury or bloodshed!" *** "I'd give my eye teeth to know how you do it, Fun!" I cried, and Fun smiled and said: "I couldn't figure out why Dr. Merton was so willing to put you through plastic surgery to make you look like Randolph Mason, till I realized that Randolph Mason might have something on him that an investigation of Mason's private files might have disciosed. That something could only have been an offence that Merton had committed while he was in his teens, under another name perhaps. When Barney and I fould the Merton Breman file, I realized that Bremen was very likely the good doctor's original and so, as I said in court, I sent the information to Ms. Chicken's office, toether with a request that she call Dr. Merton as a prosecution witness. The rest you know!" "What d'you plan to do now, Mr. Farmer?" Ms. Chicken asked me, and I replied: "I don't know, yet." "Have you thought of a career in the law?" Barney asked me, and I smiled at him and said: "Not really. D'you think I should, Ms. Chicken?" "Absolutely|" she replied. "I can see you're no chicken, Ms. Chicken!" I replied. THE END