“Can’t have any fantasy alone time in my head with you around!” I grumbled with a laugh before I took a deep breath and figured I needed to shelve my sexual thoughts about Dulcie for the time being. “Were there any witnesses?” I asked.
Dulcie shook her head. “I’ve got guys going door to door, though, to see if anyone heard or saw anything.” She took a breath. “We already searched the only car that was in the parking lot and that didn’t offer up anything. Now we’re in the process of searching No Regrets itself, although it doesn’t appear that there was forced entry into or out of any of the windows or doors. They’re all still boarded up.”
I stepped over the yellow crime scene tape and accepted a pair of latex gloves that Dulcie handed me. The ANC forensics team members busied themselves around us, with their white hazmat suits almost glowing in the bright sunshine. Thrusting my hands into the large-sized gloves, I leaned down on my haunches and inspected the body. The woman was already lying on her back, her sightless eyes staring into the sky. If there was one thing that bothered me about dead bodies, it was their dead eyes. I never really had figured out why I was so put off by dead eyes, but there it was. Other than the clean bullet hole in the center of her forehead, she was unscathed. The veins of her forehead looked like black, leafless tree branches, arching out from the dark hole between her eyes. Against her white skin, the blackness looked as if it were simply drawn on her face with a Sharpie pen. Black veins could mean only one thing, though: the bullet that killed her contained dragon’s blood, which was lethal to any Netherworld creature. “Dragon’s blood bullets,” I said, repeating my thought aloud.
“Right,” Dulcie commented as she dropped to her knees beside me. “Dragon’s blood, which would have killed her as soon as it entered her body,” she said after taking another breath. “So, because the dragon’s blood would have killed her anyway, why did the attacker go so far as to shoot her between the eyes? Why not just squeeze off an easier shot in her thigh or stomach?”
I shrugged because I didn’t have an answer for her. I glanced down at her and smiled though, figuring I’d give her a smart-ass response. “Maybe he wanted to show off his targeting skills?”
“Ha-ha,” she answered with little humor, but the way her eyes lingered on mine revealed that there was more going on in that pretty head of hers than she was letting on. “We found the card tucked underneath her hand.”
I didn’t say anything, but paid attention to the crime scene before me as I tried to piece the puzzle together. Leaving the subject of our Jane Doe for a moment, I turned to the numbered markers set beside the body. Seeing them, I figured the forensics team had already gotten its photos. “What do you know about the killer?” I asked, turning back toward Dulcie.
She shrugged. “Nothing really. He was already gone before anyone was called on the scene.” She took a deep breath, hinting that there was more. “We did find a weapon discarded in the bushes across the street, though.”
“You think he was hiding in the bushes when he took her down?” I asked.
She nodded. “Looks that way—the angle of the trajectory of the bullet wound, the weapon in the bushes, and the tracks in the mud all support it.” She took a deep breath. “The weapon we found was the same weapon used in the last Christmas sniper attacks, which is why we believe this one is yet another of the same.” She shrugged. “That and the other Christmas card we found on the scene.”
“Where’s the weapon?” I asked, standing up as I recalled the precision of the bullet hole through the center of the woman’s forehead. Whoever this sharpshooter was, he definitely liked taking impossibly well-targeted shots. The last cases we’d come across featured bullet wounds in highly strategic, targeted locations such as through the victims’ ears, dead center in their stomachs, through their eyes—the list went on. The point was that they were shots difficult for even the best sharpshooter to hit.
“It’s still lying in the bushes,” Dulcie answered. “I told them not to touch it until you got here.”
I smiled at her and raised a brow, impressed at the way she’d handled the situation thus far. “Nicely done, Dulcie.”
She frowned and shook her head, mumbling something that sounded very close to “smug ape.” I couldn’t help my smile and when I glanced over at her, she did her best to hide her own.
“So I’m guessing the weapon was a Starboard Stunner, Model H80?” I asked, remembering the last nine weapons that showed up during our investigations. A Starboard Stunner was most similar to an M40 rifle, the only difference being that Starboards could take only dragon’s blood bullets.
“Yep,” Dulcie answered. “Where this guy is getting them, though, I have no clue. It’s not like Starboards are easily found. And he’s already come across nine of them. This makes the tenth.”
I shrugged and nodded at the same time because she made a good point. “Difficult to come across unless he’s making them.”
She cocked her head to the side as she considered it. “That’s a new angle.”
“All he would need to start with is a Remington 700, then convince a witch or warlock to tinker with it, and before you know it, you’ve got a sniper rifle fitted with dragon’s blood bullets,” I continued, thinking this line of reasoning made the most sense.
Dulcie nodded. “I did some recon down in Estuary over the last couple of days,” she started. Estuary was a city just adjacent to Splendor. “And I was able to get some info from Malijah.” Malijah was a gnome who also worked the streets as a hooker when he wasn’t busily ingesting Moonriver, an illegal potion that went way beyond addictive. In working the streets and associating with all the riffraff of Estuary, Malijah usually knew what was going down with regard to the illegal potions and weapons industries. Even though he was far from a law-abiding citizen, we didn’t bother taking him into custody because he was the source of our details on the bigger guys.
“What did you find out?” I asked.
Dulcie shrugged. “He said he hadn’t seen or even heard of a Starboard Stunner shipment or trade in at least the last three years.”
“Do you believe him?”
She immediately nodded as she smiled slyly at me. It was one of those Dulcie expressions that made me want to strip her naked right then and there. Good thing for me, I was civilized. “I made him ingest some Argyle Powder just to make sure he wasn’t BSing me.” Argyle Powder was like an oral polygraph test—it was the best way to tell if someone was trying to pull one over on you. The only side effect was that after ingesting it, the person in question usually developed a raging headache.
“So there haven’t been any Starboards on the black market lately?” I summarized, to which Dulcie simply nodded. “Hmm, then I think our attacker is definitely manufacturing the weapons himself.”
“I concur,” Dulcie said with a sexy smile.
“As to his motives?” I continued, eyeing her curiously.
“We haven’t established one yet,” she said, disappointment obvious in her tone. “There isn’t anything about the victims that makes it seem like he’s targeting a certain race. They’ve all been different sorts of Netherworld creatures, of all ages, and of diverse socioeconomic levels. And he obviously isn’t choosy about targeting just men or women. The only thing they have in common is the Christmas card left on the scene and the Starboard Stunner used to kill them.”
“And every Christmas card has something to do with ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas,’” I said as I cleared my throat. So far, we’d uncovered cards referencing three French hens, four calling birds, two turtledoves, eight maids milking, six geese laying, five golden rings, ten lords leaping, seven swans swimming, and the partridge in the pear tree.
“The cards are completely out of order,” Dulcie added with a nod.
“Maybe our sniper’s dyslexic?” I asked with a smile.
“Maybe,” Dulcie answered. “At this point, he could be anything.”
“Human?” I asked, remembering the human cops I’d firs
t seen when I’d arrived. “Maybe the sniper’s got a vendetta against Netherworld creatures?”
She shook her head. “When have you ever heard of a human who knew how to handle a Starboard?”
I nodded, because she made a good point. A Starboard Stunner was an incredibly difficult weapon to manage, mainly because the weight of the dragon’s blood pretty much dismissed the notion that a human could lift the thing, much less shoot it with any degree of precision. No, the perpetrator couldn’t have been human—it had to be a creature of great physical strength and girth. “I’ve seen enough,” I said as I stood up and turned around, searching for the forensics team again. “They can handle the rest of the cleanup now.”
Dulcie nodded and rose also. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but smiled seductively. “So, what’d you get me for Christmas, anyway?”
I chuckled. “As if I’m going to tell you.” I took a few steps toward her and gripped both of her upper arms, pulling her into me as I bent my head to her level and whispered, “It’s a surprise that you’ll have to wait for.”
“Ugh,” she groaned, and shook her head. “You know how I feel about surprises.”
I chuckled and whispered, “Yep, I know.”
“So?” she continued, obviously wanting to pry me for the details.
“So what?” I replied dismissively. “You got this case figured out yet?” She rolled her eyes and grumbled something while shaking her head as I chuckled. “What was that, smalls?” I asked, even holding my hand up to my ear to complete the charade.
She cleared her throat. “I was just saying that sometimes I wish it were possible to fire one’s boss,” she finished, enunciating each word perfectly. Then she offered me that devil’s smile that made me want to don my loincloth, toss her over my shoulder, and take her to the nearest cave to demonstrate just what effect she had on me.
I couldn’t figure the mystery out. We now had ten victims and ten murder weapons, all of which were Starboard Stunners. What we didn’t have were any leads regarding the sniper nor any motives.
I leaned back in my chair and plopped my boots onto my desk as I reached for my stress ball. I kneaded the doughy thing in my hands while I rocked up and down. Glancing at the clock, I realized it was 8:00 P.M.—way past quitting time. It was also a Friday night, which made the fact that I was still sitting in my office even more difficult to swallow. Even though Headquarters was basically desolate, I couldn’t bring myself to pack up my brain for the night.
“Planning on having dinner in your office?” Dulcie’s voice interrupted my clouded brain, and I swiveled around in my chair to face her. She was standing in the doorway, leaning against it and wearing a smirk that was uniquely hers.
“I can’t seem to talk myself into going home yet,” I answered honestly while feasting on the view before me. She was wearing her regulator issue duds with her hair down, which was customary, given how she was a bit self-conscious about the points on the tops of her ears. Her pointed ears were really the only sign of her fae lineage, and even though she didn’t like them, I adored them. ’Course, I adored everything about Dulcie O’Neil.
She took a few steps into my office, the scent of soap and something floral, which I couldn’t identify, trailing her. At that moment, I realized perfume wouldn’t make a good present for her—not when she already smelled so divine. She collapsed into one of the armchairs across from me, slumping into it as if she were mentally and physically exhausted, which, given the case, she probably was. “You wanna talk about it?” she asked.
“Sure,” I answered with an appreciative smile. For all her tough-girl exterior, she really was a caring person. I cocked my head to the side and exhaled as I studied her.
“So what’s on your mind?” she demanded.
“I hate not having any leads in this case,” I answered as I worked the stress ball in my hands, hearing my knuckles crack in protest. “That and if I never see another goddamned Christmas card, it will be too soon.”
She laughed as she nodded. “Me too. Guess Christmas isn’t going to be much fun for us this year.”
I shook my head. “I wouldn’t say that.”
Neither of us said anything for a few seconds, just looked at each other. Dulcie was the one who finally broke the silence. “For the amount of research I’ve done, you’d think I’d come up with something, but all roads lead to zip, zilch, nada.”
I smiled at her. “What have you been researching?”
She sighed as if the list were a long one. “I’ve been searching through the records of any creatures apprehended with Starboards in their possession.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “And nothing, really. I searched over the last ten years and found only two instances—in the first, the guy was shot and killed on the scene, so clearly, he can’t be our sniper.”
“And the second?” I prodded, making her frown—a visible hint that she was about to broach the subject on her own.
“He’s doing time in prison as we speak.” Then she took a deep breath and exhaled it dramatically. “That’s what I meant by zip, zilch, nada.”
I cocked my head to the side as I considered it, feeling my left eyebrow rising of its own accord. “Is he still in jail? Maybe he got out early? Did you check up on him?”
“Do you really need to ask me that, Knight?” she threw back at me, scowling as she raised an unimpressed brow in my direction. I offered my grin, to which she simply shook her head. “Yes, I checked on him, and he’s still doing time…well, as of nine this morning, anyway.” She cleared her throat. “Do you want me to call back and see if he’s been released yet?” she finished with a self-impressed expression.
“No, smart-ass, I don’t,” I answered while suppressing the desire to bend her over my knee and show her exactly what happened to back-talking regulators. “Who are we talking about, anyway?”
“His name is Stone Angel,” she answered with a laugh, shaking her head. “That’s the name he goes by, anyway…Kind of ridiculous, don’t you think? I bet his real name is Eugene or Howard or something.”
I chuckled politely, but couldn’t really share in her mirth because I was more than familiar with Stone Angel. “I’m the one who put him behind bars,” I admitted after a protracted silence.
Dulcie’s eyebrows rose in obvious surprise. “Really? It didn’t mention anything about that in the paperwork.”
I started bobbing up and down in my seat again as I worked the stress ball in my right palm. “Yep. It was at least eight or so years ago…He had ties to the Underground, so naturally, there was a hit out on me.” The Underground was basically the Netherworld’s form of the Mafia. “So you can imagine how hush-hush the case had to be.”
She nodded. “So hush-hush that your name was left out of the case files.” I didn’t respond, but rested my eyes on her, watching her eyes narrow on me. “So what was his deal?” she continued. “From the paperwork I came across, it looked like he was importing illegal weapons from the Netherworld?”
“Yep, he started with Black Cherries and worked his way up to Mercers. I caught him when he was attempting to smuggle a Starboard through one of the portals from the Netherworld into Estuary. I’m convinced he had plans to dissemble the thing in order to figure out how to try and make them here.”
“More money for him if he was the manufacturer and distributor, rather than just the middleman.”
“Yep,” I agreed as I continued to bob up and down in my chair. Dulcie said I had nervous energy that worked its way out by my fidgeting in my chair, or playing with my stress ball, or pacing, or running my hands through my hair. To listen to her, I sounded like a complete neurotic.
“So maybe this Stone Angel person had a hand in the Christmas sniper activities?” she asked, leaning forward onto her elbows as the thought occurred to her. She started to nod, seemingly excited to go down this path. “That could absolutely be the case, Knight. He could be working this from prison, especially if he’s got ties
to the Underground…It makes total sense! I’m surprised you didn’t consider it earlier!”
“Calm down there, spunky. Before you get further carried away, it’s not at all likely,” I started before she interrupted me.
“Yes, it is likely! One of the facts of this case that I’m not sure you picked up on…”
It was my turn to interrupt her. “Was that four of the incidents overlapped one another and occurred at roughly the same time—midnight on December fifth,” I finished for her. I was sure I looked smug, given her expression of surprise.
She leaned back into her chair as the surprise slowly gave way to a glower. “Guess nothing gets past you.”
I cocked my head to the side and chuckled. “I’m not head of the ANC for nothin’, sugar.”
“Anyway,” she continued, raising her brows in an obvious lack of appreciation for my pet names, “since four of the attacks happened at exactly the same time, we shouldn’t be looking for just one sniper.”
“Are we looking for just one sniper?” I threw back at her.
She grumbled something I couldn’t make out, but shook her head. “No, jerkhead, we aren’t,” she finished, frowning while I laughed at the appellation.
“Jerkhead?” I repeated.
“Anyway,” she said, clearly seeking to change the subject, “my point is that since these attacks appear to have been orchestrated, maybe we shouldn’t be looking for the snipers themselves, but for whoever is controlling them?”
I nodded and stopped bobbing in my chair again, leaning forward as I listened to her. “Go on.”
“If this Stone person is the only living creature tied to a Starboard, and Starboards were the only weapons found at each of the crime scenes, don’t you think he’s worth a closer look?”
“Ordinarily, I would agree with you and say yes,” I started as I stood up and approached the window, taking in the scene of the barren landscape outside my office windows. The management company of our building was in the process of replacing the dog run of grass that surrounded the building. They’d managed to pull all of it up last week, leaving me with what looked like a moonscape for a view.
Eleven Snipers Sniping (A Short Story) (12 Days of Christmas series Book 11) Page 2