Vicki and Arthur Pendragon are Paranormal P.I.'s who must investigate TV sets that seem to blow people's brains out.
When Arthur Reynes has his head blown in by his e-mail,
his current girlfriend, Vicki, calls the only relative she has
heard of, his uncle, Gareth Pendragon. Gareth is a
Paranormal Private Investigator whose job is to debunk
fake spiritualists and find lost objects even though his
psychic powers are erratic and sometimes erroneous.
When he meets Vicki Northon, however, they discover that
she has psychic visions that are dependable-though only
when she and Pendragon are making love-which is not
always practical. They succeed often enough in such
"interfacing," however, that the modus operandi and the
perpetrator of Arthur's murder is brought to justice.
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE - A Complete Loss of Face
Arthur Reynes rose from the bed and crossed the room and the hall and entered his den. Since Vicki was taking so much time "getting ready" for tonight's noodling, he might as well check if he had any e-mail. After all, he'd been gone for nearly a month.
He lowered his bare bottom gingerly onto the cool leather of his executive desk-chair and flipped on the power-bar which simultaneously turned the computer, modem and printer on. As the machines hummed and ground to life, Arthur listened to the pleasant sound of Vicki singing in the shower. She was some girl, he thought. Pity she had this thing about absolute cleanliness before sex, combined with a determination to shower alone. I mean, getting clean might well be part of the fun.
While he was thinking these thoughts, he opened the MacCiM file, asked for mail, and let the computer dial the Net server and log on.
While waiting for all this to happen, he absent-mindedly fingered the little jade statue he'd picked up on a whim last week in Cancun. Vicki said it was the Rain God, whose name she'd forgotten, but he thought she was probably putting him on. I mean, what did an ex-stewardess know of Mayan religion? No more than he did, probably.
"You have new mail," the digital voice announced and Arthur clicked the icon to retrieve it, simultaneously putting the statuette of whoever on top of the monitor.
It was certainly strange mail, he thought as the graphic began to enter itself, line by line, on the screen. He'd never been sent a picture before. But what the hell was it a picture of?
The background of the screen was black, in front of which pixels of blue, and shades of purple, cerulean, aq ua and puke green danced in vague lines and swirls. Its orientation was horizontal and, as it completed itself, the words "Manzal-Ik" appeared at the bottom.
Arthur stared at it. It wasn't a picture of anything. Just a weird non-pattern of colors. But, as he stared at it, the colors seemed to blend into each other, change place, move in slow, undulating twists and spirals. It was a still picture, but it was none the less alive. It was a complete abstract but, in motion, it became something. Unidentifiable...but something.
"Whatcha doin', Art?" Vicki's voice came from the bathroom and he realized the sound of the shower had stopped.
"Checking my e-mail." His voice sounded hypnotized even to himself.
"What's the matter? Bad news?" Vicki had obviously caught the strangeness in his tone.
"No. Come see this."
"O.K., just a sec 'til I finish drying myself."
Moments - or minutes? - later, Arthur was aware of the soft dampness of Vicki's breasts on either side of his head as she bent to look at the screen.
"What the devil's that? A self-portrait of your stomach contents?"
"Dunno. It's my e-mail."
"That could be the broccoli there...Who sent it?"
"Dunno either. The only word is that one."
"'Manzal-Ik?' What's that mean?"
"Dunno."
"Sheesh, you don't know much do you?" Vicki laughed. "Maybe it's some kinda weather forecast. Rain tomorrow. Come to bed."
"Just a sec. Look at it...I mean stare. Does it seem to move?"
Vicki's breasts pressed harder against his ears as she leaned forward and fixed her eyes on the screen.
"No. It's just a mess of shapeless colors."
"But they move. They're like oil on water...look harder. Can't you see? They almost look like something and then they dissolve and swim into nothing. Weird."
"You're weird. It's just a still blob of colors...like a lump of old plasticene. There's no movement at all. It must be your glasses."
"I don't wear glasses," Arthur protested.
"That's what I mean," Vicki laughed. "Maybe you need to. Come to bed. The sense of touch is all you need there." Her hand slid down over his bare chest, over his flat stomach and into his groin, as if to prove her point. "Please, Artie? Let's noodle."
'All right," Arthur sighed, for he could feel his noodle beginning to rise. He filed the e-mail, shut down and went to the now-dark bedroom where, he knew, Vicki - lovely, blonde, blue-eyed, hot Vicki - was waiting for him, with her long, strong legs spread wide on the bed. In a way, he thought, it was a pity that their time together was so short now.
He was completely preoccupied with the odd graphic all through their love-making though, hardly responding to her lips on his most sensitive flesh, only perfunctorily going through the caresses and kisses she expected, and, though she achieved a quite satisfactory orgasm, he did not come at all.
Finally, he rolled on his back and they lay there, Vicki wondering dreamily why he'd been so removed from their loving, Arthur seeing the picture on the dark ceiling above his head, swirling and undulating there - slow, lazy and, somehow, vaguely ominous.
It almost became an identifiable representation three or four times in his mind's eye but then it, or his mind, drifted off into the vague abstractions of shifting color.
Finally, when Vicki's breathing had become deep and regular, Arthur Reynes arose, padded barefoot back to the den and called up the "Manzal-Ik" file.
-----
Vicki awoke at three a.m., according to the glowing red digits on the bedside clock. She wasn't sure what had awakened her - whether there had been some sound or whether, in her sleep, she had reached out and Arthur wasn't there, but she became aware of the bluish glow from across the hall and realized he must be at his computer, so she arose and, because the night air was still warm with July humidity, she strolled across to the den in her nakedness.
That curious blue and purple picture was glowing on the screen, she could see from the door, and Arthur, with his back to her, was apparently staring at it - or asleep - his head was leaning against the top of the chair's back. She circled around so that she could see which it was, staring or snoozing. If it was the former, she thought she'd dance naked between him and the screen. If it was the latter, she'd holler 'Sodom and Gomorrah,' or some other Irish curse.
But it was neither.
For Arthur had no face.
Where it used to be, a pulpy, bleeding mass of shredded flesh and shattered bone blindly faced the computer monitor.
So Vicki neither danced nor cursed...she merely shrieked in wordless horror.
Professional Reviews
Sexy and Fun
"Once again author Terry Sheils draws upon Mayan mythology to
created a richly textured, uniquely detailed story guaranteed to keep
you awake long after the last page is turned.
The hypnotic swirls of the graphics created by a serial killer destroy
people who seemingly have nothing in common except access to the
Internet. When the latest victim proves to be the nephew of PPI
(Private Paranormal Investigator) Griffen Pendragon, the game is on.
Assisted by his deceased nephew's lover, Vicki, Pendragon matches
wits with a killer known only as K.
Soon Vicki discovers her own psychic abilities, brought about during
her sexual encounters with Pen. Between them, amid finding more
and more victims of the grotesque killing methods, Vicki and Pen are
determined to find the modem operandi of this horrific killer before
Vicki herself becomes a victim.
Combining grotesque horror and raw sexual play, MODEM
OPERANDI creates a spell-binding tale of sinister power."
Cindy Penn for Wordweaving *****
TV that Blows your Mind!
"The swirling, colorful image on his computer's monitor troubles
Arthur Reynes so deeply that he gets no satisfaction from coupling
with his lover, Vicki. The image weighs so heavily on his mind that he
takes a second look at it while she sleeps. When Vicki awakens, she
finds Arthur dead--without a face.
Much to the annoyance of the Toronto police, Vicki summons her
deceased lover's uncle, the psychic private detective Gareth
Pendragon. Before very long, Vicki and Pen [as he's known] are
working together on what is obviously a serial killings case.
This story is proof that anyone who thinks mysteries can't--or
shouldn't be--sexy is mistaken. Mr. Sheils' book is packed with
innuendo, clever wordplay and witty banter. A good read for any
mystery fan who is not skeptical about the paranormal."
Catherine Witmer - Just Views
Book three in series. Excitement and tension begin on the first day of filming a Restoration drama on location at the historic Jacobean mansion, Ham House in Surrey.
When high school principal Jerry Egge is brutally murdered, Deputy sheriff Dave Jenkins begins an eerie investigation. Just about everyone in Soldier, Minnesota, is a suspect.
"Murder isn't usually this funny."
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