Homicide and Hot Tubs

by Annabel Chase

  His gaze dropped to the shiny star on my shirt. “You chose a yardstick? You could’ve used your badge as a shiv.”

  I lowered my arm. “Smart. I ask again, why are you sniffing me?” I showered this morning with the lemon verbena soap that I’d received in a welcome basket from Gia. I knew for a fact that I smelled amazing.

  “It’s nothing personal. I just haven’t smelled straight-up human in a long time.”

  “Well, cut it out. It’s creepy…unless you’re willing to pay.” I wasn’t against making a quick buck.

  “I was at your party last night, but I didn’t get to meet you. You seemed…busy.” The hint of a smirk emerged.

  My hands moved to rest on my hips. “Are you judging me? Because I’m feeling very judged and I’m not even in the checkout line yet.” I knew that was where I conducted the majority of my judging, so I figured supernaturals weren’t much different. “It was my party and if I want to do body shots off the horns of a minotaur, that’s my prerogative.” I punctuated the ‘p’ in prerogative with a popping sound from my lips.

  He scratched his beard, which didn’t surprise me. You could probably film an entire animated movie about ants in that beard. “I wasn’t talking about body shots.”

  I threw up my hands. “Okay, fine. Maybe I shouldn’t have swiped that bottle of champagne from the old crone, but quality alcohol like that is wasted on the prunes. They’re all on these potions to alleviate aches and pain which means they’re drunk in about two sips. I made sure she had her two sips and then I swiped it.” I folded my arms, proud of my restraint.

  The werewolf stared at me with a confused expression. “Would it be possible to tell you why I’m stalking you instead of you jumping to…bizarre conclusions?”

  I relaxed slightly. It helped that we were in a public place. He wasn’t going to attack me in aisle ten. “Go for it, Hairy Hamlin.”

  “You’re the marshal, so I feel like you’re the one I need to tell.” He ran his fingers through his bushy hair, tugging anxiously at the ends. “I need you to arrest me.”

  I tilted my head. “Seriously? What is it with the villagers here? Being arrested is such a novelty that everyone wants to experience it?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I shook my head. “Why do you think I should arrest you?”

  He looked both ways before returning his attention to me. “Let’s go somewhere we can talk privately.” He took me by the elbow and I shook him off.

  “Dude, first rule of being a woman. You don’t disappear with a strange man unless he is incredibly hot or incredibly rich. No offense, but I don’t think you qualify either way.”

  A low growl erupted from him and I hopped back a step. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I have a tendency to growl when I’m frustrated.”

  “Same, dude.”

  “I guess we can talk in here. It’s not too busy.” He took a deep breath. “I obliterated Akwan and I need to be held accountable.”

  Was I being punked? “What makes you think you did it?”

  “Because I crushed his skull.”

  I started to laugh but then realized he was completely serious. Then I remembered the bloodied gash on the victim’s head. “Wait. Are you saying you hit him in the head with a tiki statue?”

  He played with a stapler on the shelf. “I don’t know what it was. It was too dark to see. I just grabbed the nearest object and bashed him in the head with it.”

  Well, that definitely had the hallmarks of a confession. “Why? Was his snoring getting on your nerves?” It was feasible that if Akwan had fallen asleep sitting in the hot tub that he could’ve been snoring when the werewolf encountered him.

  He looked confused by my question. “Snoring? No. I thought he was hitting on my girlfriend. I tried to play it cool at first, but the jinni wouldn’t give it a rest. His own girlfriend didn’t seem to mind. I was embarrassed for her.”

  “Are you talking about Linzy?”

  He nodded enthusiastically. “Right. That’s her name. She seemed super nice, which made me even angrier.”

  “How exactly was he hitting on your girlfriend?”

  The werewolf kept pushing on the stapler so that it made a clicking sound. I tried not to let it get to me.

  “He kept showing off with his magic,” the werewolf said. “Yes, yes. We know you can make leaves turn into birds and set them free. Big deal. I can turn into a wolf.” He snarled for good measure.

  “Linzy’s a witch,” I said. “Presumably, she can do magic too.”

  “She wasn’t doing any though. He was only doing it to impress my woman.”

  “Your woman?” I repeated.

  He ignored me. “I waited until he wandered off by himself and I followed him. I know I need to work on my temper, but I honestly didn’t mean to hit him that hard.”

  “What happened after you hit him?”

  “He kind of slumped down, but he said something after that, so he was still alive.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Some kind of insult. I don’t know. I was pretty drunk. I think he told me to go back to my dog pen or something. One of those unoriginal werewolf insults.”

  He tapped the stapler again and I brandished the yardstick. “Touch that stapler again and you’re going to lose a paw.”

  Slowly, he withdrew his hand.

  “What happened after he insulted you?”

  “I went back to find my girlfriend and we left.”

  “So Linzy wasn’t with him then?”

  “Not at the hot tub. At least I don’t think so. Like I said, I was pretty drunk.”

  “What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

  He hesitated. “Fine. She’s not technically my girlfriend, but she was there as my date and it was not cool that he was hitting on her. All I heard the whole next hour was about how cool magic is and what would it be like to be able to do magic.” He grunted. “I told her there was another kind of magic that I’d be happy to show her later, and she didn’t even seem to hear me.”

  “Yeah, I’d probably have ignored that one too,” I said.

  “Gracie wanted a chunk of Moses,” he said, pointing at himself. “Of course, she asked me if werewolves can turn invisible after the jinni did it.” He pulled a face.

  I patted his arm. “I’m not sure it had anything to do with the jinni, bud.” It sounded to me like Gracie was trying to gently disentangle from Moses.

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be a werewolf in this place,” he said. “The competition is tough. I don’t have sexy fangs or magic or divine powers.”

  “I don’t have any of those things either, Moses. We make do with what we have, though, don’t we?”

  “You’ll see,” he said. “The longer you’re here, you’ll notice how we get sidelined.”

  “It could be worse,” I said. “You could be an elf.”

  He sniggered. “That’s true. All those guys have are pointy ears.”

  I considered the details of his confession. “So the fact is that you don’t know that you delivered the final deathblow,” I said. “You just think that you hit him hard enough to obliterate him.”

  “When I heard he was gone, I knew it had to be me. I gave myself a good look in the mirror and asked myself, Moses—because that's my name—we’ve got a situation here and you need to step up. I wasn’t always the best behaved werewolf on the mortal plane, but I’ve definitely tried to do better in Divine Place.”

  “Define better.”

  “You know, random acts of kindness and all that. Help my neighbors when their golf cart needs a jump or when they need to get revenge on someone by having me pee in their bushes.” He stopped talking and cringed. “Okay, you didn’t hear that last part. Anyway, the point is that I’ve tried hard to be the kind of supernatural, the kind that deserves a better afterlife. I mean, this place is fine, but the humidity is killer on a thick coat. Every day I feel like I’m suffocating unless I’m inside with air conditioning.”
>
  I pointed at him and then to myself. “Me and you. Same page. I feel like we were separated at birth.” And knowing the way my dad got around in my youth, it was entirely possible.

  “Do you need to take me somewhere? I know we don’t have a jail here or anything, but maybe a small room with bars…” He smacked his forehead. “Oh, gods. I’m asking to be put in a pen. I’ve become the living embodiment of a werewolf insult.”

  I didn’t know what to do with his confession, especially in light of Linzy’s. “Tell you what. I’m still in the process of investigating. I saw the tiki statue that you bludgeoned him with and I did see a gash on his head that corroborates your story, but there are other factors to consider.”

  His thick brows drew together. “What kind of factors?”

  “That’s confidential.” I tapped my star. “For now, let’s just keep your story between me and everybody I tell, and I’ll let you know if you are, in fact, under arrest. Deal?” It seemed silly to arrest him when there was no chance of him escaping this place. Even if he hid, he’d be found eventually.

  Moses slapped me on the back like I’d just completed a keg stand. “Thanks. I didn’t know what to expect from a human marshal, but you’re pretty cool.”

  “Yes, because that’s what you need from your sole source of law enforcement. Someone cool.”

  My sarcasm was lost on him. He gave me a parting grin before he vacated the aisle. I stood there, staring after him and wondering how I was going to figure out which one was responsible. It was more of a burden than I realized. What if I misjudged the evidence and sent the wrong supernatural in front of the tribunal? A weight settled on my shoulders as I contemplated the potential for a disastrous outcome. I’d been so relieved to discover that I hadn’t been the one to obliterate Zeus when I arrived. I didn’t want to be responsible for sending the wrong supernatural downstairs. Even though they’d have to stand trial in front of the tribunal, that didn’t absolve me of my role in putting them there. With a weary sigh, I made my purchase and went to meet Mitzi at the wharf.

  Chapter Six

  Mitzi and I arrived at the healer’s office with a cat, office supplies, and a backpack stuffed full of potions. The receptionist gave us a curious look as we set up camp in the waiting area.

  “Brigit’s with a patient right now,” the receptionist said. “I’ll let her know you’re waiting.”

  Once she was out of earshot, I turned to Mitzi. “What kind of treatment can she actually provide? I mean, everyone’s dead or immortal, right?”

  “The healers can help with lots of ailments. Brigit is particularly powerful because she’s a goddess.”

  “Yeah, but she’s a Celtic goddess of healing. Doesn’t that mean she should only be able to heal leprechauns and banshees?”

  Mitzi laughed. “It doesn’t work like that. The healers aren’t limited to certain supernaturals. They can ease pain, make a diagnosis, make suggestions for better habits…”

  The receptionist returned to the counter with the statuesque goddess in tow and we explained our plan. Brigit seemed uncertain about giving me an all-access pass to the empty room, but Mitzi’s pleading expression worked like a charm. She may have been a sucky witch, but she still had her own kind of magic.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Brigit said. “If you stop referring to me as Xena Warrior Healer, I’ll allow you to use the room.”

  I chewed my lip, prompting a nudge from Mitzi. “Why do you even need to think it over?” she hissed.

  “Because I really like that nickname.” I groaned. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

  “As it happens, Akwan’s body is in there now,” Brigit said.

  First I got to share an office with a mop and now a dead body. Terrific. “Have you examined him?” I asked.

  “Come on. I’ll show you what I’ve found.” The goddess motioned for us to follow. We trailed behind her down a narrow corridor to a room at the back. It was larger than my Harry Potter suite, with a few large drawers in the wall, a long rectangular table, and a cosmetic mirror with lighting.

  “Oh, wow.” I ran over to check out the mirror. “It’s like the kind I had at home.” I’d started growing random chin hairs somewhere around the forty mark and the magnifying mirror had become a necessity. I peered at my reflection and was relieved to see that my chin looked respectable.

  “Its purpose is to examine bodies at close range,” Brigit said. “I used it to study the wound on Akwan’s head.” She went to a drawer and tugged on the handle. Akwan’s body slid into the room on a slab. The room suddenly reminded me more of a morgue than a cool crime lab. We’d have to hang streamers or something to make it more festive.

  “I think he got hit with a small statue,” I said. “I saw it on the ground next to the hot tub, but I was too drunk to have the sense to pick it up.”

  “I wasn’t.” Brigit walked to another drawer and opened it to reveal the tiki statue.

  “Hey, you’re doing my job. Thanks.”

  “Actually, it wasn’t me. It was Cole,” she said. “He went back to the scene and scouted around for evidence. He noticed blood on the statue and brought it here to see if it matched Akwan’s.”

  So Cole was working the case without me. I wanted to be pissy about it, except I was doing the same thing to him.

  “That’s why he’s such a great deputy,” I said with false cheer. “Did you notice anything else about the body? Any signs of an attack or maybe a potion gone wrong?”

  Brigit gazed at Akwan’s lifeless body. “There seemed to be several substances in his system, and it’s been difficult to isolate them because they all blended together.”

  “Is there a spell that could help us?” I glanced over to see Mitzi making herself at home. She was in the process of setting up the potion bottles on the table. Mischief was smart enough to stay on the floor and out of the way.

  Mitzi pushed her glasses to the top of her nose. “Huh? A spell for what?”

  “To determine whether there were any substances in his body that might’ve obliterated him,” I said. “I know there was a sleeping potion. Maybe there’s something else.”

  “There’s definitely more than a sleeping potion,” Brigit said. “I just can’t tell you what they are.”

  Mitzi extracted a book from the backpack. “I brought a spell book, but I’m not very familiar with the contents, so I’ll have to look.”

  “By all means, take your time,” I said. “Get a PhD in witchcraft while you’re at it. We only have until the body disappears and the evidence is lost to us forever.”

  Mitzi frowned. “Is that sarcasm?”

  “There’s no need to worry, Eloise,” Brigit said. “I’ve drained the body of fluids so we’ll retain what we need even after the body is gone.”

  Phew. Well, that was something. “Is there any way to know how long is left before the body goes?”

  “There’s no hourglass in his abdomen,” Brigit said, smiling.

  “Is that goddess of healing humor?” I asked. “If so, stick to your day job.”

  Her smile faded. “As the body deteriorates, it will become increasingly transparent until it crumbles to dust and blows away.”

  “That sounds dramatic,” I said.

  “That’s how we can tell an obliteration from an ascension or descension,” Brigit said.

  “But what if no one’s around to witness it?” I asked. “What if no one had discovered Akwan in the hot tub until his body was gone?”

  “There’d be traces,” Brigit said.

  “We could also use a potion,” Mitzi added. “There are potions that can reveal the presence of angel hair.”

  I shot her a quizzical look. “Pasta?”

  “No, silly,” Mitzi said. “Angel hair are fibers left behind after an ascension.”

  “Hair from actual angels?” I asked.

  “No, it’s just the term for the traces we find afterward,” Brigit said.

  “And what’s left after a descension?” I asked.
“Devil’s claw?”

  Nobody laughed. Tough crowd.

  “We should still study any wounds that are present while we have a body,” I said. Not that I had a clue what I’d be looking at other than to identify a cut or a bruise.

  “Yes, but you can record your findings,” Brigit said. “It’s not as good as the original, of course, but it’s better than nothing. As you can see, his skin was scalded from the hot water.”

  His condition seemed worse in the harsh light of day without a tank of alcohol in my system. The skin had bubbled and broken open. He looked like a partially peeled banana—and now I’d never eat another banana again. At least my body no longer needed potassium.

  “Gosh. He was boiled like a frog,” Mitzi said, coming over for a closer look. She blinked at us through her thick glasses. “Do you think maybe he was a frog?”

  “I don’t think Akwan sounds like a French name,” I said.

  Brigit and Mitzi exchanged baffled glances.

  “I mean an actual frog,” Mitzi said. “He was a jinni. What if he was so drunk that he turned himself into a frog or something and then wasn’t able to change back in time to save himself?”

  “Now that is the perfect example as to why magic would be dangerous in my hands,” I said.

  “It’s a fine theory, but you don’t have any evidence to support it,” Brigit said. “The burn marks aren’t enough.”

  “I brought a few potions that could prove useful,” Mitzi said.

  Mischief meowed from the table with the potions and I realized that she was probably hungry and thirsty. She wasn’t used to being out of the house for so long. I went over and scooped her off the table.

  “I’m going to run her home if you don’t mind. I’ll come straight back, I promise.”

  “Take your time,” Mitzi said. “Maybe take in a movie or two. It’s not like the body’s on a timer.”

  My look of shock melted into a smile. “Touché, Mitzi. Good for you.”

  Mitzi squared her shoulders, clearly pleased with herself. I hurried from the office and raced back to the house with the cat. Mischief seemed happy to be back in her safe space.