I Married a Demon

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I Married a Demon Page 13

by Beverly Rae


  Attention, Buyers! Price Reduction on a Fabulous Blood-soaked Bungalow.

  “Talk. What’s the word?”

  Herbert Swindle stalked by the Blue Room and scowled at me. Catching my look of warning, Myra grabbed a printout from the nearby printer and started studying it as though her life depended on it. Since I’d finally gotten hold of my informant, Jim Sterling, at the stationhouse, I wasn’t about to hang up on him. Instead, I held Partner closer to my ear, plastered on my best suck-up-to-my-boss grin, and shot Swindle a thumbs up.

  “Know who robbed the main office.” Jim lowered his tone. “And took you-know-what.”

  With the news still ringing in my ear, I was glad I’d sat down to make the phone call. “Yeah? Give me the details.”

  “Petty thieves. Were petty thieves.”

  My pulse beat a little faster. “What do you mean, ‘were’?”

  “Dead. All five.”

  An image of Michael in the bar with his undead companions flashed through my mind. Hadn’t they talked about killing someone? A cold shudder whipped along my spine and I had to clamp down on my teeth to keep them from chattering. “How did they die?”

  “Someone shot them execution style.”

  Sometimes even one word tells a tale. I let out a rush of air because he’d said someone and not something. Maybe someone else had gotten to the thieves before Michael’s gang could. “I’m coming to check it out.”

  “No use. Can’t get in today.”

  Swindle continued to watch me and I widened my smile for his benefit. “Are you there right now?” Swindle, apparently mollified, nodded at me and continued on his way to hassle the other agents.

  “Yeah, but can’t get you inside the place. Not ranked high enough.”

  His stilted speech was getting to me, but that was his style. “Stay put. I’ll be there as fast as I can. In the meantime, try to dream up some excuse to get me a look around.”

  “Fat chance.”

  I ended the connection and glanced at Partner. “Well, at least now I know I can use you as a phone.”

  Partner’s cowboy persona returned to spit tobacco on the virtual ground in front of him. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I can do most anything. Especially anything a PDA or phone can do.”

  Myra gave the mechanical egomaniac the admiration he craved. “Partner is fabulous, Jenn. Do you think they’ll eventually have Partners for the general public? Or at least Protectors’ assistants?”

  Grabbing my purse, I slipped Partner into my pocket and peeked around the corner of the door into the hallway. Swindle was at the far end of the main room with his back to me. Perfect timing.

  “Myra, if old Herbie asks where I am, tell him I’m off checking out a home. Considering the occupants are sleeping with the proverbial fishes, I think the house may be coming on the market soon.”

  “Will do!”

  I scampered like a rat escaping a trap to zip through the main office and out the front door. With any luck, Swindle would spend the next hour tormenting some other poor employee.

  The thieves’ house was located in a decent neighborhood on the edge of town. Steering the Jag onto the street, I took in a typical crime scene investigation in full force. Neighbors who’d probably not spoken to each other for months gossiped on the sidewalk and tried to get close enough to hear the juicy tidbits. Uniformed cops kept them from crossing into the yard. Yellow crime scene tape stretched across the steps leading up to the front porch—a clear sign of trouble waking up a normally quiet street’s inhabitants.

  Parking down the block, I patted my pocket, making certain I had Partner. I got out of my car and strolled toward the action, hoping I looked like just another crime scene investigator. Plain-clothed detectives talked in a small huddle outside the front door. The medical team leaned against the coroner’s vehicle, going through the usual paperwork. Their bored expressions said it all. Judging from the number of cops and coroner’s assistants at work, I knew they’d seen something awful inside the house, but apparently it hadn’t appeared supernatural. I strolled up to the nearest cop, my informant. “A multiple murder, huh? Execution style, you say?”

  Jim, a veteran of the Society for eleven years and a cop for seven of those same years, kept facing forward and scanning the growing crowd. “Right. Gunshots to heads. Lined up. Shot one after the other.”

  I tried not to smile. Of course I wasn’t happy when any human died, but I definitely found the silver lining when they’d gotten whacked in a traditional, human way. “Good. No supernatural involvement?”

  “Actually, yes.”

  My breath caught in my throat at his remark. “Are you saying there was?” I took a quick glimpse at him and returned to watching the crowd. “What do you mean? Exactly.” Why did he have to go and tarnish my silver lining?

  “Arm and leg. Gone.”

  “Yeah? Still, dismemberment isn’t exclusive to the supernatural.” What did I have to do to get this guy to stop talking like Tonto?

  “Seems like the killer used the severed parts as a warning to others.”

  Wow, a long sentence. I tried desperately to get my silver lining polished. Hell, at this point, I’d take a tin lining. “You don’t sound like you agree.” Come on, man. Agree.

  “Don’t. Someone snacked.”

  Ah, crap. Bile rose to my mouth even though I was used to hearing this sort of thing. “Damn. But cannibalism doesn’t necessarily mean this is an Otherworlder killing. Ever hear of Hannibal Lecter?”

  “Fictional character.”

  He was? I hated the heat flowing over my cheeks and scrambled to regain a snippet of my professional dignity. “Yeah, I know.” Liar! “Anything else?”

  “Ghost residue on sofa. Cops didn’t notice.” One of the detectives glanced our way and I positioned my body at an angle to him, keeping my face averted.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing.” His brow wrinkled in confusion until I added, “About them not noticing the residue.”

  “I guess.”

  “Did anyone see the thing we’re looking for?”

  “Nope.”

  “No jewelry at all?”

  “Nope. Television.”

  I tried not to get excited at the prospect of a clue. “Working?” Sheesh, I was starting to talk like him.

  “Nope.”

  “Dammit, Jim. Was it the one stolen from you know where?”

  “Reckon.”

  “Did anyone check it for you know what?” This twenty-question game was wearing very thin—like my patience.

  “Nope.”

  “Why not?” I wanted to kick this guy in the balls just to hear him say more than a few words. Even if they were cuss words.

  “Smashed.”

  “But we know it was our TV, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So someone must’ve found the item. Problem is, we don’t know if it was the thieves before they got whacked or the killer, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I kicked a stone and tried to distance myself from him without going too far to hear. Still, I had to try one last time. “Any chance of my getting in there?”

  “Nope.”

  “Gee, Jim, I bet you talk the bad guys to death, don’t ya?” Even though I’d turned my face away from his, I could hear his lightened tone.

  “Uh-huh.”

  So much for getting more details without pulling his teeth out. I’d do it, too, if I had to. “Don’t we have a connection high up in the police force? A man very close to the Police Commissioner?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Granted, patience is not one of my virtues, but this guy could frustrate Ghandi. “Jim, I swear I’m going to turn around and start screaming rape if you don’t stop playing Mr. Ziploc with me. You know what I’m asking.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I whirled on him, mouth open, ready to wail.

  Jim held up his hand, stopping me cold.

  Who did he think I was? A curious onlooker stepping to
o close to the crime scene? I needed answers.

  “We do have a person with connections, but he’s out of town on other business.”

  Finally. Real information. “Wow. You can say more than two words at a time. And you can’t think of any other way to get me inside? Maybe you could talk them into it.”

  The corners of Jim’s mouth twitched upward. “Nope.”

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a moment to regroup, opened them to stare at him, and tried again. “This looks like an ordinary robbery with the victims not being anyone anybody cared about, right? Which means a quick investigation and not anyone hanging around tomorrow, right?”

  “I guess.”

  I gritted my teeth and took the plunge one last time. “Okay. I’ll be back tomorrow. All right?” Meeting Jim’s gaze, I waited for his normal response. Instead, he broke his routine again—but not for the better.

  Jim shrugged and walked away.

  I knew I shouldn’t have, given where I was and what had happened, but I couldn’t help it. I laughed, loud and long, all the way to my car.

  ***

  “Watch out. Swindle’s out for bear and you’re the one he wants to skin.”

  I rolled my eyes at Myra’s warning and, because I had my eyes on my friend, I ran straight into Swindle. “Oh, crap! Sorry.” My attempt to scoot away got blocked by a fuming Swindle.

  “Jennifer, what happened at the house on Madison?”

  I froze. Had he heard something about the team and Ryan Wallis? Or worse, about Judy Wallis’ disappearance? “What do you mean?”

  “I set you up with the perfect home to sell and an Open House to boot. Yet, instead of getting an offer, you hand it over to Bellamy. If I’d wanted Bellamy to have it, I’d have given it to him to begin with.”

  Wanting to suck in a deep breath of relief without getting a drag of Herbert’s aftershave, I opted for turning my head to the side and coughing. Myra scooted over to us to stand slightly behind Swindle and held up a crudely drawn picture of Swindle hanging me from a gallows. I started to giggle which only made the prick angrier.

  “I fail to see anything funny in you losing a sale to Bellamy.” Swindle scowled at me, morphing his two bushy eyebrows into a single long one.

  “Bellamy sold the house?” Figures. I sit there all day, then Bellamy lands a deal in the last couple of hours. “Good for him.”

  “Look, Jennifer, if you want to keep your job here at Swindle Realty, you’ll start performing. I don’t have room for dead weight.”

  I opened my mouth to assure him that the only dead weight in the office was his head, but Partner beeped, sounding exactly like a cell phone announcing a missed call and effectively cutting me off at the verbal knees. Still, a bright spot did appear. I held up my finger, silencing Swindle before he could start yet another round of criticisms. “Could be a client.” Relishing my little victory, I checked the screen and punched the symbol for voicemail.

  Jim Sterling’s voice echoed in my ear. “Get there now. Hurry.” After leaving Jim earlier today, I hadn’t held out any hope of getting into the house until tomorrow. This green light boosted my spirits and my determination. No way would I miss this opportunity.

  I beat Swindle to the punch. “I couldn’t agree with you more, Mr. Swindle.” I started moving toward the front door with Herbert following along. “In fact, I’m off to scope out another home.”

  “Now wait a sec.”

  But I kept moving, knowing he’d stop at the door. He did and I continued on. “Gotta run,” I called to him over my shoulder and didn’t slow my pace. “Like you always say, ‘Time is money and money is great!’” Hopping into my car, I kept my face averted and didn’t given him a glance to wave me back. Laughing, I hurried out of the parking lot.

  I stood in front of the house where the robbers had met their fate and wondered how many of the neighbors had their eyes glued on me. Although not one of them was in sight, I knew their attention would stay focused on the scene of the crime for days to come. Question was…if anyone asked, how would I explain my trespassing past the yellow crime scene tape left across the front door?

  I decided to cross that problematic bridge if and when I came to it. Hopefully, anyone watching would assume I was a plain-clothes cop and not ask me anything. Right now, I needed to see what was inside. Forcing myself not to glance around and, thus, add to the suspicious nature of my visit, I strolled up the steps and reached through the several strands of tape to turn the doorknob.

  To my surprise and delight, the door opened. “Perfect. The cops put up Do Not Cross tape all over the place, then fail to lock the door.” However, I wasn’t one to knock a gift horse in the mouth. Playing a short game of Twister, I dove under one piece of tape and over another to half-fall, half-slip inside the house.

  I shut the door, scanned the room and knew I’d wasted my time. The broken television wasn’t there any longer and even the ghost residue had been cleaned from the couch. Although I hadn’t really expected to gather anything of great value from the place, I’d let myself hope. Yup, that’s me. The eternal optimist.

  “Darlin’? What do you see?”

  Partner’s irritated tone made me more anxious than I already was. Contrary to what others might believe from my past actions, I don’t like disobeying police blockades, much less trespassing onto crime investigations. “Nothing. Now shut off or I’ll shut you off myself.”

  “Oooh, darlin’. What got you all cranky and out of sorts? Is it Aunt Flow?”

  Unlike many times before, I had no desire to quarrel with Partner. Therefore, true to my warning, I reached down and switched him off. His surprised expression was the last thing I saw.

  I took in the blood on the walls and furniture, as well as the dried pool in front of the couch. Half-cooked food sat on the stove. Obviously, the victims hadn’t expected company. From Jim’s description, the unexpected company had preferred to feed on the thugs rather than the chili congealing in the pot.

  Why I’d thought this trip would give me any help in locating the Bracelet was beyond me. But after scouring all the pawn shops in town, I wasn’t sure where to start looking. I’d gotten lucky overhearing Michael with his Otherworldly cohorts and figured they were involved in the murders. But did they have the Bracelet? And if they did, which high demon lord would they give it to? Where and when would they pass it on? And, worse of all, was I already too late to stop them?

  I decided then and there I needed to contact my snitch. But first, I’d check with the neighbors. With a bit of luck, I’d find a nosy, talkative one.

  Grateful to be outside again and away from the blood-soaked site, I looked around the neighborhood. No children played outside and no dogs barked in the surrounding backyards. Were the frightened neighborhood moms keeping them tucked safely behind doors? “Weird.”

  “Weird is what happened over there.”

  I whirled around, ready for action. “Who’s speaking?”

  “I am.”

  I followed the sound of the gravely voice to an elderly gentleman rocking on the front porch of the house next door. “What was weird?” I tossed my hair in my best flirty style and sauntered over to him. “Did you see what happened?”

  “I did.” He popped his unlit pipe into his mouth and made sucking noises.

  My radar shot up. Had he really seen something? Or was he merely a lonely old man using any excuse to talk? I batted my eyelashes and tilted my head coquettishly. “You do know your pipe isn’t lit, don’t you?” I planned to get friendly with the survivor of the Greatest Generation before diving into the tough questions.

  “’Course I do.” He took out his pipe, gave it a once over, and clamped his lips around it again. “I’m trying to quit. I wouldn’t want to get cancer in my old age.”

  I studied him and tried imagining him getting any older. The Ancient One was well beyond old already. Unless he was an Otherworlder. I narrowed my eyes, searching for the signs. Yet, I had a hunch that he was all mortal.


  “Good plan. My name’s Jennifer.” I started to take a step up to the front porch where he sat and hesitated. “Do you mind if I talk to you, Mister…?”

  A toothless smile was my answer. Taking his gummy grin as an invitation, I joined him and sat in the rocker next to his. “I love rockers. I’m always wanting to sit on my patio at night, but I never have the time.”

  He nodded, the rolls around his neck wrinkling like an old hound dog’s. “Call me Clem. You best make time to enjoy life, girlie. It comes and goes really fast.” He stopped rocking to tip his head and peer at me over his bifocals. “Especially in your line of work.”

  In my line of work? Did he think I was a cop? “I’m not a policewoman.” I frowned, unsure why I’d told him the truth.

  He snorted, escalating the sound into a fit of coughing.

  “Are you all right?” I stopped rocking to lean toward him, but he waved me off.

  “I know you’re no fuzz face, girlie. Don’t you think I can tell a Protector when I see one?”

  I gripped the arms of my chair and decided trying to fool him wouldn’t work. After all, I’d already let part of the truth slip out. Nope, this guy knew too much for me to try and deny anything. “How did you know?”

  “Hell, girlie, you don’t get to be ninety-nine years old without learning a few things.” He popped his pipe out of his mouth and pointed it at the victims’ house. “I know who—or should I say what—killed those scum buckets, too.” A hacking cough, the kind that makes you cringe to hear it, accented his statement. A wad of spit followed and I bit back the urge to criticize his lack of manners.

  I hadn’t expected to find a windfall, but I had. Who cared if it was in the form of an old geezer with half a foot in the grave? I hoped his mind had held up better than his body. I tried to remain calm and kept my excitement hidden. “Oh, yeah? Really? Can you tell me about it?”

  “I suppose I could.” His eyes twinkled with my attention and he began to rock his chair a little faster. “T’weren’t regular murderers what done it.”

 

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