Hey,” Dillon said, twisting his body so that he could look out the back glass, “I think that was her.”“Shit!” Jason slammed on the brakes, throwing his partner against the seat and filling their noses with the smell of burning rubber.“Jesus, Jase!”Ignoring Dillon’s outcry, Jason wrenched the wheel to the right, forcing the large vehicle into a one-eighty in the narrow street. He flicked the switch to activate the sirens and jammed his foot on the gas pedal.“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dillon demanded, gripping the dash as they bounced over a large pothole. “She’s a journalist, not a serial killer!”“Are you sure about that?” Jason asked as they shot after the disappearing Taurus.“C’mon. You don’t really believe she had anything to do with . . .,” he had to stop momen
Jason stopped in front of the glass door proclaiming the building to be the “Office of the Chief Medical Examiner”. He always needed a moment to prepare before entering this house of the dead. He thought about Jessie and how she had hesitated just a moment before walking past the parlor where her murdered father lay. Had she needed to prepare herself to face death in general, just as he did now, or had it been something more? Had she been preparing herself to face the lifeless shell of the man who had given her life?Dillon reached around him and pushed open the door, apparently not as affected by what went on behind it. Grimacing, Jason stepped inside. The smells hit him immediately – formalin, bleach, antiseptic – smells he associated with death.“You coming?” Dillon called over his shoulder.“Yeah, I’m coming,” he said, following his partner down the long empty hallway. Thankfu
Once I was in my apartment, curled up on my old but comfy sofa, I began to work in earnest. However, my internet search netted me only a brief company history, a list of famous clients (the governor wasn’t among them), and booking information for the band “Bowlers and Pins”. So, if I wanted to speak with Mr. Estes – and I did – I had four options: send an e-mail to a generic account and hope someone would hook me up with Estes; spend tomorrow driving over to Norfolk and coerce a meeting with the man; forget the whole thing and hire Bowlers and Pins for a “screw it” party; or call Gail and ask her to finesse a number from the World Wide Web.As tempting as the party sounded, I was going to have to beg another favor. I was really racking up those favors, and the corresponding payback. That was the thing about asking for help – no one did anything for free, and said help always ended up costing far more than it was wor
What now?” a churlish voice snapped in my ear, which was pressed against my cellphone.“Geez, Gail. What bug flew up your ass?”“I was right in the middle of flinging a hibiscus at a werewolf.”“You were what?” I couldn’t imagine anyone getting the drop on Gail, but someone must’ve kicked hard enough to damage that stone head of hers.“Flowers and Monsters,” she said, as if that would explain everything.“Why don’t you go lie down for a little bit,” I suggested, now truly concerned. “I’ll call again when you’re feeling better.”“It’s a video game, stupid,” she said, “and I was going in for the kill.”“With hibiscus?”“Werewolves hate hibiscus.”“I’ll take your word for it,&r
I stood for a moment outside the shiny glass doors of the sleek ten-story building that housed Bowler & Brothers. I needed to catch my breath after racing the five blocks I had traveled from the garage, since the gated lot was “permit-only”. Why hadn’t I thought to ask about the parking situation? I looked down at my sturdy, flat boots. Thank God I wasn’t a stiletto kind of girl. I wondered if Anders went for the phony, high-maintenance type. Probably not, I decided. He seemed like a man who enjoyed getting his hands dirty, maybe in more ways than one.These thoughts were certainly not helping slow my heart rate, so I pretended I was watching a round of golf until a yawn nearly split my face in half. Worked like a charm.I pushed open the door and was met with a swirl of cool air and vanilla musk. The faux marble lobby was empty and my steps echoed as I moved toward the bank of elevators on the opposite side of the room.
Hello officers,” Elroy said with an expansive smile as he ushered Jason and Dillon into his office.“Detectives,” Jason corrected with an edge to his voice. He knew his dislike for the smug bastard was evident, but didn’t really care. He pushed his way past the man, leaving Dillon to follow behind. Elroy, however, gave no indication that he had picked up on the disdain that oozed from Jason’s, thick as molasses.“Please, have a seat,” Elroy said, and damned if the man wasn’t preening at the attention. “I assume this is about that reporter who persecuted me yesterday.”“Persecuted?” Jason echoed. “That’s a rather strong word, don’t you think?”“Not under the circumstances,” he said. “She was wantonly disrespectful.”“Wantonly,” Jason said. “Another interesting word choi
Jason was thinking about Elroy, Jessie, and the unholy mess this case had become when he opened his front door and was nearly toppled by thetempêtewho hurled herself at him, tears streaming down her tiny face.“She’s gone, Daddy!” the little girl cried, burying her head in the crook of his neck when he knelt down to her level. “Mouse’s gone.”Jason looked up at Tess, who stood behind his distraught daughter.“A kitten,” she answered his questioning look. “There was a stray kitten outside this morning and this ’possede’,” she said, borrowing her employer’s Cajun slang for “mischievous child”, “brought her in and tried to give her a bowl of milk. We’ve spent the whole day entertaining the little thing, but I made the mistake of stepping outside, and she shot out of here like a bat out of you-know-where.”
I stepped from the buzz of street noise into the throb of music and jangle of voices raised to be heard over the jukebox. A single muted television above the bar cast a blue glow that tinged a darkened corner a hazy gray. I could see a man sitting in the niche; the lone occupant of a table near the now defunct payphone. He was lanky with a long, patrician nose and receding hairline. He wore a well-cut suit and expensive loafers.“Feeling a little melodramatic?” I asked as I slid onto the chair opposite him.“Not in the slightest,” he answered, that mellifluous voice contrasting with the cacophony surrounding us. “I simply wanted our chat to take place on neutral ground, away from our respective comfort zones. I trust this isn’t a place you spend a great deal of time?”“No,” I said. The bars I tended to frequent were even worse than this one, but he didn’t need to know that.