by Cate Lawley
“Everyone?” Ben let me tug him toward the car.
“Let’s just say I’m surprised you haven’t already.” I patted his arm then climbed into the driver’s seat. “You guys ready to do some late-night grocery shopping? We need some fake dead people ingredients.”
13
Cooking Up a Corpse
“That does not smell like dead person. That smells like bread.” Alex looked appalled by the admission.
And I was disturbed by the fact that he wasn’t wrong.
“Wait for it.” Camille glanced at her watch. “Any minute now…” She walked to the stove and wafted some of the venting hot air toward her.
From the expression on her face, I figured the smell wasn’t pleasant…then it hit me. A sickly sweet smell that bore no resemblance to baking bread.
“Oh.” Ben’s face took on a pinched, pained look. “I know that odor.”
Camille flipped on the vents and started rummaging in her cupboards. She pulled out a small tub of vapor rub and chucked it at me. “I’ll get some candles going. Why don’t you guys wait outside for the rest of the bake cycle? The odor dies down once it’s done.”
Who would have thought the handful of ingredients we’d picked up earlier could smell like baking bread or decomposition? That was the beauty—or in this case, the odiferous wonder—of magic.
My nose hairs curled with my disgust, so I followed Camille’s advice and went outside. The guys were about a split second behind me.
Even in the yard I could smell it. Probably because those scent molecules were clinging to the inside of my nose. Without dwelling on that disgusting concept too long, I dabbed a little vapor rub under my nose.
Ben caught the small tub I’d lobbed. “I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained if this kinda thing happens often.” When he was done, he offered it to Alex.
Alex declined. “I suspect it’s not normally a problem. In my experience, most concoctions aren’t quite so noxious.”
“We have a few more minutes, so how about a recap?” I let myself fall down onto my favorite squishy lounger. “Pros and cons to each of our suspects.”
“Okay.” Alex pulled two deck chairs close then sat down in one. “Since we’ve only got three reasonable suspects so far, we can start with them. Lydia, Richard, and Brooke.”
Ben looked intrigued. He planted himself in the second chair and said, “Does Lydia inherit her husband’s wealth? Is there any way we can check on that?”
I swallowed a smile when he said “we.” Ben was well and truly hooked on solving Chalmers’ murder. In no way was untangling the details behind a client’s death part of even the best funeral home services.
Alex didn’t seem to notice my bemusement. “We’ll have a look at the will tomorrow, but I suspect you’re right. It would be typical for the other women to get substantial single payouts, but the surviving spouse should receive the bulk of the estate.”
“Right, so Lydia likely benefits financially, but also she loses the immediate ability to conceive.” Ben frowned. “Or whatever it is golems do to create children.”
“That’s murky,” Alex said. “I can tell you it takes some time, requires each parent to make a magical contribution, and it’s difficult. The number of children in golem families is always small.”
“Well, Lydia didn’t seem to be hurting financially, and we saw ourselves how much she wants a child.” Ben leaned back in his chair and propped an ankle on his knee. “I say we put her on the back burner for now.”
There hadn’t been an opportunity for him to change, but he’d removed his jacket and tie, and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. He looked more comfortable in his skin than he had earlier. Which was an odd thought, because he’d looked perfectly at ease in a suit yesterday and slacks and a sports coat earlier today. He wasn’t one of those guys who looked half strangled in a tie.
“Interestingly,” Alex said, “Brooke brought it up as well.” When I blinked in confusion, Alex added, “Lydia’s desire for a child.”
Then his eyes got all crinkly at the corners. He was definitely laughing at me.
“You tired, Star? You seem a little distracted.” He glanced at Ben.
The jerk knew where my mind had wandered. I don’t know how, just that he did.
I shot him a warning look. He certainly didn’t harbor any lingering romantic feelings for me, but he wasn’t opposed to making me squirm over another guy.
All of Alex’s baggage predated me. There was zero doubt in my mind that he held any sort of torch for me.
Sticking to the more interesting subject of murder, I said, “Let’s keep Lydia on the list for now. Just until we confirm she’s as filthy rich without her husband’s estate as she appears.” I crossed my ankles and tipped my head back. “What about Richard? Maybe he was jealous of Lydia’s relationship with her husband. He seems weirdly protective for a vamp. I thought vamps were supposed to be sociopaths.”
Ben choked.
After Ben finished his coughing fit, Alex said, “Not necessarily. I know at least one who’s intermittently pretty cool.” Turning to Ben, he added, “But generally, vamps are to be avoided.”
“No problem.” The words came out a little wheezy, because Ben was still catching his breath.
“The transformation alters brain chemistry or rewires the brain in some way. I’ve never met a vamp who wasn’t significantly different post-transformation.”
I sat up enough to look Ben in the eye. “Just to be clear, that doesn’t happen with witches. We go in human, we come out the same, just with more magic. No blood drinking and no scrambled personalities.”
“So you say,” Alex muttered.
I was about to lob an energy ball when the back door clicked shut and Camille joined us. “Shame on you, Alex. You know perfectly well that a witch’s transformation doesn’t alter personality one iota.” She made a disappointed tsking noise at him. “You’re just trying to push Star’s buttons.”
But I didn’t get off scot-free.
She turned and pointed. “And you. Don’t think I didn’t see that pink glow. No throwing energy balls in the backyard.”
I felt a wee bit mothered, and not in the warm fuzzy way. I probably deserved to be grounded, since Alex could make me act like a teenager. Not sure what his excuse was, since he was way, way older than me.
Alex hopped to his feet and pulled up another chair. “Our corpse is done, I presume.”
She settled into her chair. “It’s cooling. We need only assemble the pieces and cast a binding spell on it, so it doesn’t come apart before the ceremony. Is this an open-casket affair, Ben?”
“Ah, yes.”
“Such a shame the service had already been announced. Otherwise, we could have quietly made it all disappear. No baking up corpses in the middle of the night; no sham services.”
Ben looked uncomfortable with the idea but didn’t protest. I didn’t see how he could. He’d met the widow, and he knew the public ceremony hadn’t been the wishes of the deceased or his family.
“Should we be talking about”—he lowered his voice—“witches, vampires, corpses, that sort of thing, in your backyard?”
Camille’s laugh carried through the backyard, but only so far as the protections she’d laid out, no farther.
“We can speak openly,” I said. “There are protections all along the fence line to prevent any kind of eavesdropping.” I crossed my arms behind my head. “But back to our suspect list: I say Richard stays on the list just because he’s weird. Vamps don’t usually work for golems, do they?”
“Since most vamps have oversized egos,” Alex said, “they don’t usually work for anyone but themselves—if they have a choice.”
“Ah, he’s not broke.” All three of us turned to Camille, and she smiled. “I have sources, too. Richard Fox had money as a human, and he’s hardly broke now. Even by vamp standards.”
“Then it’s definitely odd that he’s working for a golem,” Alex said.
Ben settled back into his chair, his concern over vampires and nosy neighbors apparently allayed. “And weird that he’s a PA. You said vamps have oversized egos, which seems like a bad thing for an assistant. You can’t get much lower on the totem pole than a PA, in my experience. Any chance there’s something between Lydia and Richard?”
“That’s an odd match.” I couldn’t recall the exact dynamic between the two, but… “I don’t think they’re lovers.”
“No. Give me a second.” Alex leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. I’d forgotten how he did that, pulled up memories like they were filed away in a drawer. “He was more like a puppy than a lover. And she…” He looked up, and I saw a glint of satisfaction.
And just a split second later, I got it. “Oh, no. That’s messed up.”
Ben looked back and forth between us. “How about you fill in the rest of the crowd?”
“Motherly. Lydia was motherly. Not in the human sense, but for a golem? The icy-cold, controlled woman we met didn’t blink at her husband’s death, was only put out by the inaccessibility of his baby-making juice, and only showed warmth for one person during our meeting: her assistant.” I shook my head. “Not that I could blame her with a husband like this Robert guy.”
I felt a twinge of conscience for speaking ill of a dead man. But holding out on creating a little golem kid, the one thing Lydia actually wanted, and that on top of his women on the side…
Yeah, the dead guy wasn’t leaving me with much to admire.
“I can’t say I saw that.” Ben paused, then asked Camille, “What do you know about Richard’s life before he was turned? You said he had money.”
“Ah, yes. He was a trust-fund kid. Oil money, I think. His parents died shortly after his transformation, and he inherited their estate.”
Alex frowned. “Wait, you’re saying he’s still living under his original identity?”
Camille nodded. “He was turned about five years ago, when you were off on one of your European jaunts. He’s kept a low profile since.”
Alex unclipped his cell from his belt and flipped it open and then shut. “No signal. Can I use your phone?”
Camille gestured at the house. “In the kitchen.”
Alex excused himself.
After about five seconds of perplexed silence, Ben said, “I don’t get it. He was on the list primarily due to proximity. He knew Chalmers’ plans, had intimate access to the family, but what does he gain by Chalmers’ death?”
“Revenge?” But as I said it, it didn’t feel right.
“Not on Lydia’s behalf,” Camille said firmly. “Except for Alex’s friend Wembley, I’ve not met a vamp who acted out of anything other than self-interest.”
“Yeah, makes sense, since they have the reputation of a bunch of sociopaths. There’s a reason people don’t like vampires.” Not that I’d met large numbers of them, but the ones I had hardly left a positive impression.
Ben gave me a funny look.
“What?” I reviewed what I’d said. “Oh, well, there’s a reason we don’t like them besides the blood-drinking. Obviously.”
Except… Everyone had to eat, right?
That thought I kept to myself. Ben was doing really well with the idea of witches and wizards. No reason to overload the poor guy.
Maybe I needed this job at the funeral home more than I realized. It was possible I was losing touch with “normal” people. It’s not like I spent much time at home with my mom, and the few friends I had were all witches and wizards.
Alex returned from inside with a curiously blank expression. I knew that look. Whatever he’d learned from the phone call he’d just made, it wasn’t good.
“Richard killed his parents.”
Definitely not good.
He dropped into his chair with loose-limbed ease, but I could see the telltale signs of the stress—no, the anger—that he was trying to hide. The fine lines around his eyes deepened and his jaw firmed when he was upset. “Apparently, the rumor flourished while I was away but died before I got back in the country.”
“You’re certain?” Ben asked.
A small muscle ticked in Alex’s jaw. “Cornelius said it’s a quietly acknowledged fact.”
“Cornelius is Alex’s boss,” I told Ben, in case he’d forgotten.
Ben looked appalled. “If you’re all so sure, why is this guy not locked up? How can he walk around like he’s done nothing wrong?”
I bit my lip. Hard.
Sometimes I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’d made the wrong choice all those years ago. I’d only been fifteen when I’d chosen a path that would alter my life forever. Becoming a witch was a process, but once completed, I’d been transformed. There was no going back.
And sometimes, like right now when I was faced with the harsh reality of my choice, I wanted to pummel something. I’d tried kickboxing, but it just made my neck hurt and gave me migraines.
Maybe I could pummel Richard.
Even with these flashes of uncertainty that I occasionally got, in my heart of hearts, I knew I’d made the right choice.
I hadn’t been born a witch. Magic had chosen me, and I accepted the transformation. I’d been “made.” That was what they called it: made versus born. But I’d always had the spark of magic inside me, and I’d be miserable without an outlet for my talent.
But there were days when living within this hidden world with its skewed priorities and wretched sense of justice twisted me into knots.
Alex reached down and clasped the hand I’d clenched above my midsection. “We’ll fix this.” He squeezed my fingers and then let go.
Turning to Ben, he said, “Enough. We’ll make this right, but you have to understand that there are some things we don’t have control over. It just is the way it is, and change comes slowly.”
Ben blew out a long breath. “Yeah.” He caught my eye. “I’m sorry. How can I help?”
I turned to sit crosswise on the lounger so that I was facing the group. “We need evidence.”
“Or we kill him.” Alex spoke as if those words didn’t carry any special weight or meaning.
A dead Richard Fox sounded pretty appealing right now, but I couldn’t put that kind of burden on Alex. I knew what kind of demons—what kind of guilt—he wrestled with on a daily basis. “No, we build a case and pitch it to Cornelius.”
Camille sat up straighter. “Lydia. She’s your case. With her connections—she is a golem, after all—she’s perfect. She wanted a child from her husband, and someone took that from her. Convince Lydia that Richard was out to steal her child, and she’ll pitch holy hell to see him pay for her husband’s death.”
Ben held up his hand. “I get that there’s evidence—somewhere out there—that Richard killed his parents, and if he killed once, he’s more likely to kill again. But he had a clear financial motive before. What’s his motive for killing Robert Chalmers?”
Camille, Alex, and I shared a look.
It had been obvious to us. So obvious that I started to wonder how Lydia could be so blind as to not see it. But unlike Ben, I’d been living in this world for almost ten years; I knew more about how the enhanced community thought and acted.
“Richard was protecting his relationship with Lydia.” As the words left my mouth, the nasty knot in my stomach tightened.
Normal people had arguments, disinherited family, refused communication with friends, maybe even slugged someone they were hacked off at. Normal people didn’t murder other people.
Then again, Richard wasn’t exactly a person, normal or otherwise.
“Protecting his relationship with Lydia from what?” Ben looked genuinely confused…until he didn’t. Suddenly he looked appalled. “Wait, you’re thinking that he made sure the body would be embalmed so Lydia couldn’t retrieve whatever she needed to have a child.”
Alex nodded, and Camille said, “You’ve got it.”
“That makes no sense. Why not just cremate him
, if that’s the case?”
Camille and Alex shared a look.
“What?” I asked. “That actually seems like a good question.”
“No greater insult than for the remains to be buried,” Camille said.
Alex inclined his head. “Except to be embalmed and then buried.”
“Spite?” No one’s ego was that big. Except I was clearly wrong and someone’s was. “That’s insane.”
Ben choked. “And killing someone isn’t? Also, how does a child play into all of this? How could a child hurt Richard’s relationship with Lydia?” Ben blinked. “You weren’t kidding with the sociopath thing, were you?”
“Not kidding,” Alex said. “I think you’re right, Camille. With Lydia’s influence behind an accusation, I should be able to get Cornelius on board.”
“And with Cornelius on board, we can get a witch-supervised confession.” I cringed at what that meant. Some witch trawling around in the nasty goop of Richard’s twisted head and turning the mental thumbscrews until he confessed. Then the weight of that confession weighed as truth or lie by that same witch.
All I could think was, “Not it.”
And Alex wondered why I didn’t want to work for the Society.
Yuck.
“We’ll need some kind of evidence, but that wouldn’t go far without Lydia’s support.” Alex paused, then said, “You know, killing him would be easier.”
Camille sighed. “It really would, but that just won’t do. You want change. This is how you get it. It has to start somewhere, so we start it here.”
I nodded. “And now.”
Alex nodded. He looked more resigned than hopeful. But he’d had a lot of the idealism beaten out of him over the years. What was my excuse?
Camille stood up. “I need a drink. Anyone else?”
On that, we were enthusiastically, unanimously, in agreement.
14
That Voodoo that You Do…that Isn’t Voodoo
Funny how, in a stressful situation, booze could unite all sides.