by Jada Ryker
Marisa smacked one meaty arm. “Stop that, you know this place is packed with little kids!”
“No, I mean horse shit! Your little friend reeks of it!”
Alex’s face twisted with resentment at “little,” but when faced with a wrestler the size of a Georgia pine, discretion seemed safer than aggression. He looked down at his boots.
Marisa followed his gaze. “Ewww. Alex, you’ve stepped in horse poop!”
The emcee announced gleefully, “And here comes the Fire Breathing Dragon, the arch enemy of the Knight!”
His bulging muscles covered in a pea-green body suit with shiny golden scales and his ground dragging cape shaped to simulate a reptile’s pointed tail, the Dragon strode through the booing crowd. His huge face screwed into a ferocious frown, he defiantly shook his fist at the hissing crowd, his moussed crest of green-sprayed hair bobbing in tandem.
Marisa gave Alex, who refused to leave his post by her at the turnbuckle, a pained smile. “Where else can you go and chant with a thousand people, ‘You suck! You suck!’”
Alex’s grin was fierce. “A University of Louisville basketball game?”
Marisa rolled her eyes as her ‘boyfriend’ the Knight climbed up on the turnbuckle to shake his fist and growl at the Dragon. “Hey, I’m a University of Louisville graduate, remember? Anyway, this is my...little hobby. For fun and excitement, I’m Wanda Bra Woman, girlfriend of the Knight in Shining Armor. That’s the Knight’s arch rival, the Dragon.”
Having reached the ring, the Dragon executed a neat back flip from the concrete floor up onto the edge of the ring. He slid between the ropes, and pulled his cape/tail behind him. One hand went to his mouth as he roared, and flame shot straight out. The hand disappeared into his tights, and then he slithered up to Marisa.
Across the ring, the Knight posed on his turnbuckle.
The Dragon took her hand and tried to jerk Marisa away from Alex’s grasping fingers. With a leer, the Dragon slid one green gloved hand around Marisa’s waist.
Alex tugged at her. “What are you doing, Marisa?”
The Dragon pulled her in the opposite direction. His tongue slid out like a huge pink snake and slithered up Marisa’s arm.
Alex gritted through clenched teeth, “Animal feces elicits a squeal of ‘ewww’ and that doesn’t?”
Marisa pulled her hand free, then slapped at Alex. “Get away, Alex, this is all part of the script. I allow myself to be charmed by the Dragon, and we become the low-tiered professional wrestling’s version of Beauty and the Beast.”
The emcee boomed throughout the building, “The Dragon has turned his evil, vicious fangs to Wanda Bra Woman, the Knight’s innocent girlfriend. Will she stay with her Knight, the golden haired, er, skulled boy of the wrestling circuit? Or will she betray the love of her life for a sleazy lizard?”
The Dragon put his head to Marisa’s stomach and licked it. The crowd went wild. They were screaming and waving their fists. The mob surged toward the ring.
The emcee screamed, “The Dragon has either found himself a tasty snack or a new girlfriend! Or both!”
From his perch above the ring, the Knight raised both fists.
Alex screamed, “Marisa! The crowd is turning into a mob! We’ve got to get out of here!”
Enraged wrestling fans surged over the metal railings and up to the ring. They poured over the ropes like frenzied piranhas following the scent of blood.
* * * * *
Marisa screamed. It did not sound like an “I’m having fun as my alter ego” scream. Rather, it was a “save me, I’m in trouble” scream.
Alex was picked up bodily and flung out of the ring and onto the concrete floor. As he rolled under the edge of the ring to get out of the way of shoes and boots, Alex yelled, “Marisa! My God, you are such a pain in the ass! Hold on, I’ll save you!”
Alex saw Marisa desperately try to fight her way free of the teeming bodies and move toward the direction of his bellow. He was convinced if she couldn’t keep her feet, she would be crushed in the wild stampede of wrestling fans. When Alex saw a grandmotherly woman grab Marisa’s flying hair to try and keep her own balance and Marisa easing the old lady to the floor to break her fall, Alex knew he had to stop the melee.
* * * * *
The huge doors, which had been shut after Marisa’s and the Knight’s entrance on horseback, crashed open. Framed in the opening was an advancing bulldozer. As Marisa stood still with her mouth hanging open, the crowd was scrambling away from her and the bulldozer. She pushed her way through the bodies to get closer to it, feeling like a salmon swimming upstream.
The driver and the man standing next to him looked very familiar.
Alex was at the wheel, with a determined look on his face. Hanging on next to him was a familiar, rotund figure, pointing in her direction.
As she pushed through the crowd with renewed energy, she heard the wail of sirens.
* * * * *
“Let me see if I can summarize the events. Marisa Adair, bored with having people gunned down in front of her and running away from crime scenes, turns her jaundiced attention to the bottom rung of the professional wrestling ladder. In a brilliant, career-building move, Wanda Bra Woman transfers her favors from the Knight in Shining Armor to the hated and feared Dragon. Consequently, the crowd, ugly at the best of times, transforms into a crazed mob.” The plainclothes policeman stood at the center of a staggered circle, with the group huddled together on metal folding chairs like chastened students being lectured by the principal.
Sniffing, Marisa miserably pulled the scratchy blanket, which a kind police officer had handed her earlier before placing her in the police car, tighter around her shoulders.
The movement caught the attention of the lawman. He loomed over her, forcing her to look up. His light blue eyes reflecting not only his obvious anger but also a glimmer of humor, he said, “I’ve been on the police force for ten years. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
With a jolt, Marisa recognized him as the police lieutenant who had questioned her after Jonah’s death. Peripherally to her shock and distress, Marisa had been surprised by the combination of his youth and his obvious standing as a leader among the other police personnel. With his boyishly handsome face and slight build, he looked like he should be wearing a high school letterman jacket and faded jeans, rather than the somber dark suit, yet he had given orders with an air of command and confidence. The police station seemed an incongruous back drop for him. The walls were covered with yellow paint and dotted here and there with framed newspaper clippings, many of which were yellowed with age under the opaque glass. A gigantic bulletin board was covered by tattered posters and bits of paper. Nearly every square inch of floor space outside their loose circle of chairs was crowded with desks, most of which were occupied by uniformed policemen taking statements and busily typing at the computer terminals.
The Knight, his beautiful black and silver pseudo chain mail body suit in tatters and his red boots scratched and dirty, rebelliously stirred. “Don’t pick on her. It’s the Dragon’s fault, Lieutenant Camden. He was supposed to pick up her hand to kiss it. Instead, he licked her arm and then he buried his stupid head in her belly and acted like he was mauling her with his sharp dragon teeth. It drove the crowd wild to think of MY girlfriend being eaten by my arch enemy.”
A muffled sound came from behind Marisa. If that was the kind police officer who’d given her the blanket earlier to cover her costume, he’d just fallen in her estimation.
“I was not being eaten”—another male giggle from Marisa’s rear—”and I am NOT your girlfriend.” Everyone else ignored Marisa.
With a growl, the Dragon lifted his head. Slumped at the far end of the row of chairs, he was bedraggled and his tail limply hung to the floor. His eye was blacked, and a furrow of scratches welled blood down the side of his face. “You have a wife and five kids at home…stop calling her your girlfriend. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. I heard you turn to
the crowd and announce she was obviously a two-timing tramp. In your insane attempt to boost your approval ratings, you got them whipped into a crazed frenzy on your behalf. When all hell broke loose, it was your fault.” He angrily crossed his arms, sending loose golden scales skittering across the tile floor like yellow metallic roaches caught by a suddenly turned on light.
Camden turned to Alex. “Alex Caldwell is the Chief Financial Officer of the trauma hospital, one of the murder scenes. He decides Ms. Adair’s Knight is not going to rise to the occasion, and her Dragon has had his Fire put out by the angry fans. Therefore, he frantically runs for the construction equipment. Oddly enough, it did not occur to him to call the police. As Alex vaults onto the bulldozer, he falls over Fred Wilkins.”
Fred, for once without The Library at his heels, slumped in his chair with his hand over his eyes.
“On the surface, Fred Wilkins’ connection with the victims is rather more tenuous; he drives a bus and also transports patients and the elderly. But we are shocked to learn Fred is Marisa’s friend and had the same idea as Alex of riding to her rescue on the noble steed, aka Bulldozer.
“To save poor, innocent Wanda Bra Woman from being torn limb from limb by the crazed crowd, Alex and Fred saddle up their bulldozer, and ram through the metal doors of the building.
“When the police arrive, pick their way through the rubble and drunken fans, and start taking people into custody in droves, they find Russell Meeks in their net. The same Russell Meeks who I suspect gallantly helped Marisa find one of the dead bodies. Since we scooped Russell up from the crowd, we can only surmise he was standing by, wringing his hands, while Alex and Fred rescued the damsel in distress.”
The Knight raised his head in admiration. “Hey, you got quite a way with words, lieutenant! Since I saw our usual emcee being carted away in one of the ambulances, how would you like to do some moonlighting in the sporting industry?”
The Dragon waved his claws. “Are you insane? He’s a cop—”
“Stop it, both of you. Grown men in skin tight body suits don’t have any say so here.” Marisa noticed even though he was furious, the law enforcement officer’s slight frame moved with the fluid, easy grace of a dancer. “I haven’t even starting looking into licensure compliance or occupancy regulations at that wrestling match. Now, get out of my police station before I think of something to charge you with. I’m thinking the way you’re dressed, if I throw you in jail, you’ll be the Prom Queen and the Lady in Waiting before daylight.”
Fear mixed with defiance, the gigantic men jostled each other in their haste to get away.
Marisa jumped up from her chair. “I’m out of here. I have a headache, a run in my hose, and one of my boot heels came off.”
The police lieutenant stood so close to her his nose was practically touching hers. “Back in the chair.”
In surprise, Marisa collapsed backward into her seat. “What’s got your panties in a wad?”
Alex poked her warningly.
The lawman loomed over them like an avenging fury. His features, which when he’d questioned Marisa had reflected concern and even compassion, were rigid with anger. Once the Dragon and the Knight had left, he turned his attention to Russell Meeks, slumped in his chair. When the irate lawman couldn’t catch Russell’s eyes because his head was bowed nearly to his chest, he bent over to put his face near the other man’s. “And you. Why were you there? What did you do, follow Marisa and Alex to the wrestling match?”
Russell looked up, his glasses catching the overhead light. “Is it a crime to go to a public event?” He turned his head and glared behind Marisa. “If your officer hadn’t recognized me from his interviews at the Home Away from Home nursing facility, he would have left me in peace and I wouldn’t be here now.”
“Only attending public events? In between murders and inciting mobs to riot, it would appear you and Ms. Adair have been playing detective. We’ve gotten several calls from residents in the condominium where Jonah Graham and Zoe Walker lived, complaining they’re being harassed by the police. Why, they ask, were they questioned in the middle of the night by uniformed officers, and again the next morning by plainclothes detectives? When they checked into the complaints, my officers discovered three people, a man and a woman along with an older woman, had been canvassing the area around Jonah’s apartment, asking questions of his neighbors. Although the woman was not at the time wearing her famous Wanda Bra Woman outfit, I do recognize Marisa from their description of the female of the questioning duo. Mr. Meeks fits the description of the man. At this time, we don’t know the identity of the older woman.” Running an agitated hand over his military short fair hair, Camden appeared to be mentally counting to ten. Very briefly, he closed his eyes. “Do you know the penalty for impersonating a police officer?”
Alex moaned. “You pretended you were a police officer?”
Marisa turned on him. “Alex, you are not helping!” Marisa cleared her throat. “We merely knocked on some doors and asked a few questions, Lieutenant Camden.”
Russell slowly lifted his head off his chest. “We introduced ourselves by name to each person to whom we spoke. We didn’t tell anyone we were with the police, and we certainly can’t help it if anyone erroneously assumed we were detectives.”
“You are civilians. You will stay out of my investigation.” The law enforcement officer’s jaw angrily snapped shut. Incensed, he paced back and forth between them and the sergeant’s desk. With his hair too short to do anything other than stand straight up and his chest puffed out in fury, he looked like a riled-up bantam rooster. “If you keep meddling in this, then the murderer won’t have any choice but to come after you. Don’t force me to take you into protective custody for your own good. Officer Grove, let them read over the statements you took earlier and sign them, and get them the hell out of my police station!”
* * * * *
The police officer behind Marisa hastened forward, nearly tripping on the bedraggled tail the Dragon had forgotten in his haste. Embarrassed, the officer kicked the green tail toward the corner and angrily shuffled the stack of papers in his hands. He pinned Marisa in his glare, his round face furious. “I used to love your act, Wanda Bra Woman. I never missed you and the Knight, except for when I had to work. Turning from the Knight, who’s the nicest guy in the world, to the unbelievably mean Dragon, was a crazy thing for you to do.”
Marisa gritted her teeth and willed herself not to scream. “It’s just a performance. It’s not real. It’s scripted, like a movie or a TV show.”
The officer stubbornly shook his head. The tag on his brown uniform shirt showed his name was Daviess. “I was there the time the Knight risked his life to help the Siamese Twins when they were pinned to the mat by the Elephantine Brothers. He could have been crushed, but he didn’t let it stop him—”
Marisa pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Officer Daviess. Are you harassing the suspects again?” The woman’s ponytail swung around her shoulders as she looked at Marisa, Alex, and Russell in sympathy. Her compact figure was covered by a red short-sleeved shirt and petite-size blue jeans.
“Carol Brandeis. If you’re here as the coroner to give the lieutenant information, he just slammed the door to his office. He may not be in the best mood right now.”
Carol’s wide pink mouth quirked up on one end and the lines deepened at the corners of her eyes. “Well, well, well. What have we here?” Her scuffed boots left a trail of dirt as she circled Officer Daviess. “With your bald head, round face, and orange complexion, you look just like a newborn infant with a terrible case of jaundice.”
“You’re not a doctor, you’re a mortician with the Grayhampton Final Resting Place.”
Russell raised his head and spoke to Marisa in an undertone. “I thought coroners have to be medical doctors.”
Marisa shook her head and whispered. “They don’t have to be doctors in the Commonwealth of Kentucky. A person must complete a special training to be a cor
oner, but that’s all. On the other hand, the medical examiner must be a physician.”
Daviess snarled. “Since your favorite expression is ‘They kill ‘em and I grill ‘em,’ I definitely don’t want you trying to practice medicine on me.”
Carol pulled a magnifying class from her pocket. She stared through it at his face.
Daviess smiled, exposing blocky teeth. His eyes were crescents decorating his large, round, bald head.
“That’s disturbing.” She put away the glass. “You look like a freaking pumpkin.”
The officer’s smile faded. “My skin is not orange. It’s Sun Kissed Autumn Hue.”
“Ah, it’s a spray-on tan. That color is Pumpkin Pie. If you had covered your head during the spraying, then it would be à la mode. What’s the special occasion?”
Daviess puffed out his chest. “With the sensational murders, we’ll be getting media coverage out the ying yang. I need to look my best for the photo ops.”
“Photo ops? People are dead.” Carol stared at him like he was a particularly nasty insect. “Are you an idiot or a jerk?”
Daviess leered. “Go out with me for a drink, and find out for yourself.”
“No, thank you.” She pivoted toward the lieutenant’s closed office door. “I have work to do.”
The officer smirked. “Murder work or romancing-the-lieutenant work?” He stared at the dirt clods she left in her wake. “I’m not cleaning that up!”
The coroner flipped a dismissive hand behind her back without turning around.
Daviess whirled back to Marisa, Alex, and Russell. He narrowed his eyes.
Marisa shivered. No wonder there are horror movies starring pumpkin-headed psychopaths.
“Alex Caldwell?”
Alex raised a hand. “Have the police made any progress in Jonah Graham and Zoe Walker’s murders?”
Officer Daviess handed Alex his statement. “Not that I know of, but it’s funny about Zoe Walker.”