Still Waters [A Kyra Moray Mystery]

by Deanna Lee

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  Loose Id, LLC

  www.loose-id.com

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

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  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id® e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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  Chapter One

  October 2162

  New Orleans, Louisiana

  Inspector Kyra Moray frowned as she stood over the dead body of Donna LaRoux in an alley of the French Quarter. When the call had come in, she'd taken one look at the image that had been transmitted to her, and rolled out of bed. As she was the senior inspector of Major Crimes of District 4 in the Big Easy, the strange cases always fell on her desk. Death no longer shocked her, but there were times when it cut at her soul. It also proved that no matter how civilized the world around them might be, humans were essentially primitive and maybe always would be.

  "Why do we always get the weird ones?"

  Kyra squatted close to the body and looked briefly toward her partner. “That's the way New Orleans treats me."

  Sergeant Phil Wilkes grimaced. “Well, being you sucks, and being near you sucks even more."

  Kyra smiled briefly and turned to the uniformed officer who had hovered near her since her arrival. “Well?"

  "She works in the diner. She began her shift at ten-thirty p.m., and the last time anyone can remember seeing her is three-thirty a.m., when she went on her break. The owner, Noel Valteau, called 911 forty-five minutes later and stated that he'd found one of his employees injured behind the diner. Dispatch called the med-tech team, who called in the discovery of a dead body at four-twenty-three a.m. I arrived on the scene seven minutes later, secured the body, and immediately signaled dispatch for an investigative team.” Constable Ana Salanti stilled and met Kyra's gaze. “I've already transferred my on-scene report to your pocket-pc."

  Kyra nodded and looked back at the body positioned carefully on a piece of white canvas and glared at the small wound. It looked like the killer had peeled away the skin. The wound, about two inches above her right breast, was the only mark on the body, and it showed no signs of scabbing or healing. It had been done after she was dead; otherwise, the girl's healing nanobots would have immediately started repairing the damage. She pulled out her p-pc and scanned the report as she stood. It was as clear and precise as the oral report had been.

  Her gaze went back to the body. Donna had been pretty once, but death was kind to no one. The nineteen-year-old girl was sprawled brazenly, as if to insinuate that she was far more than just a college kid. It was another slap at her humanity, Kyra thought. The killer had placed the girl in a dirty, smelly alley, naked before the world, with her legs spread as if she were unworthy of any small modesty.

  Kyra gazed around the scene as she peeled off nu-skin gloves. Made of a soft, pliable polymer, they molded to the hand like a second skin. The fit, and the thinner material, allowed for little or no loss of touch sensation.

  "He did her somewhere else and then brought her back here. There isn't enough privacy here for what he did. Any transient traffic?” She looked pointedly at the uniformed officer as she spoke.

  Ana shook her head. “None reported. The alley was empty except for the body and the med-techs when I arrived."

  "Get statements from the med-techs, then release them."

  "Right away, Inspector.” The constable darted off.

  Kyra grinned and turned to her partner as the officer hurried away. “You can let the medical examiner in. I'm going to talk to the manager."

  Phil grunted. “Why do the street cops think you walk on water?"

  "Because I'm a street cop, too.” She looked toward the constable, who was taking statements. “I've just got a shiny gold badge to go with it."

  "Nothing special about working the street,” Phil muttered.

  As he exited the privacy screen that shielded the body, Phil motioned to the ME and took a deep breath. He knew without a doubt that he would never have the detachment his partner had when it came to working with the dead. Four months in Homicide had taught him that there was little man wasn't capable of.

  The alleyway was bursting with crime scene techs, uniformed cops, and a variety of city personnel, all of whom appeared to have a job on the scene. The two recycler units in the alley had already been marked for confiscation, and a group of men were organizing their removal from the alley.

  "What we got?” Dr. Simon Rice paused beside Phil.

  "Female victim, nineteen. The inspector will be demanding on this one, Rice; watch your procedures."

  * * * *

  She paused in the entrance of the small office. Noel Valteau sat in a chair; his large frame slumped as if he'd been struck. Kyra had known Noel all of her life, had even sat in his lap as a child during Christmas parades. Dealing with the grief of a man she considered a friend was so much more difficult that dealing with the grief of a stranger. For several seconds she allowed herself the weakness of pity, then put it aside. When you worked for the dead, your own needs and emotions had to take a back seat.

  He looked up and met her gaze. “I can't believe she's dead."

  Kyra sat down in front of him and took both of his big hands in hers. “Listen to me, Noel. The only thing you can do for Donna now is answer my questions."

  "I'll try."

  "Do you remember any customers who hassled Donna while she was at work tonight or in the past few weeks, months?"

  "No. Don't take with that bullshit in my place. The girls have a right to work in a safe, clean place.” He nodded emphatically. “Customer gets out of hand, I know about it, and it doesn't happen again."

  "So, there have been unruly customers in the past."

  "Not with Donna. She's only been here about six months. Her mother, Cecilia, picked her up from work and dropped her off. Far as I know, she didn't have a man or anything. Just working and going to college.” He shook his head as if to clear it.

  "Did Donna normally take her breaks behind the building?"

  Noel blushed. “Last month I started enforcing the no-smoking policy in the building. The girls had to go out back. I'm not sure if she was doing it before."

  "How many times did Donna take a smoke break tonight?"

  "Don't think she actually smoked, just liked to get out of the building for a while, so maybe twice."

  "Now, Noel, you're thinking this is your fault. That's not true. You didn't hurt Donna, and you didn't do anything to make this happen.” She stood up and met Phil's gaze as he hovered in the doorway of the small office. �
�Noel, can you give Donna's current employee file to my partner?"

  "Yes, of course."

  Surprised, Phil watched Kyra walk away. He hadn't expected to enter the manager's office and find her comforting a witness. Still, he was honest enough with himself to admit that he knew very little about the woman he'd been partnered with for four months. She didn't confide, and he didn't ask.

  When he'd come to New Orleans, he hadn't expected to be assigned to a cop of Kyra Moray's rank. Though when he'd caught sight of the dark-eyed, raven-haired inspector, he hadn't been exactly displeased, either. He'd heard rumors that she'd been Miss New Orleans as a teenager, and that didn't surprise him. So far, he'd refrained from looking her up on the Internet. He didn't think he needed to see his partner and superior officer in a bathing suit.

  * * * *

  Kyra walked out into the dining area. The patrons who had been there when the body was found had remained. It didn't surprise her; Valteau's wasn't a tourist stop. They were silent and watchful as she approached.

  She inclined her head as she considered her words. “I want to thank you folks for staying and helping us tonight. Tomorrow you'll be called in for interviews; please don't discuss the details of this evening with one another. We need to hear only what you remember.” Everyone nodded, still silent. “Everyone but the staff can leave now. Thank you again."

  She waited silently as the customers stood and left. Turning her attention to the staff, she gestured to the uniformed officer standing next to her. “Constable Chase will take your statements. After you've given a statement, you can leave, too. You'll also be getting calls for interviews at the station.” Kyra checked the time on her comm-u and then looked at the two waitresses. “I know you're scared. It would be difficult not to be under the circumstances. The officer will be happy to drive you both home."

  "You'll catch this man?"

  Kyra paused and looked at the older woman. “I'll have justice for Donna."

  * * * *

  It was different this time. The first ones were a waste. I sincerely regret their loss. This time, however, was so intense. It felt so just. She knew her purpose in the end. I made sure of it. I told her she would always be beautiful and pure. She was born to help me fulfill my mission, and sweet little Donna was honored that I chose her.

  The police sent their best to the scene. I knew they would. You'd be so pleased by the appreciation my work has garnered. I'll watch Inspector Moray closely. She's interesting and perhaps the perfect vessel for your return to this world.

  * * * *

  "Shit, I hate this."

  Kyra looked briefly at her partner as she reached out to push the doorbell. “Just don't cry. I can't stand it when you do that."

  Phil grinned at her but had his face neutral by the time the door was thrown open.

  The woman blinked against the glare of the porch light and frowned at them equally before focusing on Kyra. “What the hell do you want?"

  Kyra held up her badge. “I'm Inspector Kyra Moray with the NOPD, and this is my partner, Sergeant Phil Wilkes. We'd like to come in."

  The woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?"

  "Mrs. LaRoux, we need to come in,” Kyra repeated softly. “It's about Donna."

  "She's at work.” Cecilia LaRoux backed away from the door, still frowning, and then turned from the door as Kyra and Phil followed her into a small, neat living room.

  Kyra sat down as Cecilia did. She'd done this more times than she'd like to admit, and each time it was as if it were the first. There was no way to make it easy, and the woman before her didn't seem the type to react well, no matter how the news was delivered. “Donna has been killed."

  Cecilia was still for a minute; then with a burst of energy, she launched herself, fists flying. Kyra took one good punch to the jaw before she grabbed hold of the screaming woman and restrained her. She glared at Phil until he pulled the struggling woman off her. Rubbing her jaw, she watched him push Cecilia back down in her chair. The woman was sobbing and moaning, curled tightly in a fetal position.

  "Call the station."

  "Oh, come on. You aren't going to arrest her, are you?"

  Kyra stared at her partner for one long, incredulous minute, and then cleared her throat. “Call the station and have them send out a grief counselor."

  * * * *

  Kyra was still rubbing her jaw when she entered the ME's office at 9:00 a.m. She hadn't gotten much sleep, but then, it was hard to sleep with the way her night had ended.

  Dr. Jeffrey Parker was considered by some to be the biggest pain in the ass in New Orleans, but he was the best ME in the city. He never settled for the obvious until there was no choice, treated every body as if it were a person he knew in life, and had the utmost respect for the dead. For those reasons, he and Kyra got along just fine.

  She found him eating a toaster pastry and staring at the remains of Donna LaRoux. “Blueberry?"

  "What else?” Jeffrey motioned toward a box sitting on a table away from the body. “Help yourself. The toaster is broken, though."

  Kyra hopped up onto the counter and snagged the box. She should have felt guilty for taking his last one, but she didn't. Opening the foil package, she looked from the body to the man. “Well?"

  "I should have gone to the scene.” He sighed and shrugged. “Rice is a good kid, but I would have liked to have started with her in the field."

  "Just tell me, Jeffrey."

  "No rape, though she did have sex within the last forty-eight hours. I pulled a semen sample. There is some sign of strangulation, but that isn't what killed her. The wound on her chest is postmortem. Odd thing, he didn't dig deep ... took all three layers of skin, but there's little damage done to the flesh around it or the muscle underneath. It was a clean incision, precise and thoughtful."

  "Then, what?"

  "I don't know yet."

  "What the hell do you mean, you don't know?"

  Jeffrey sighed. “The bruising on her neck is old, probably at least two days.” He grimaced. “I'll know more once I get her open. The full body imagery scan, which I've done twice, suggests something that I'd like to investigate physically before I make any reports concerning the cause of death. I found something weird in her mouth."

  "What?"

  "A vial of bone dust. Analysis suggests poultry, probably chicken. We'll know for sure in about an hour."

  "Chicken bones?” Kyra slid down off the counter. “Bones?"

  "Yeah.” He motioned at a silver tray near the body.

  "In her mouth?"

  "Yes, just pushed into the mouth. Not shoved down the throat; she didn't choke to death. Though there is some indication that she suffocated or was deprived of oxygen for an extended period of time before she died."

  "You get her medical history, yet?"

  "No, her mother is catatonic.” Jeffrey looked at her finally. “Heard she punched you in the face."

  Kyra nodded and rubbed her jaw again. “Yeah, it was certainly a first. I've had people get angry and curse me, but never had one attack me before.” She tossed the empty pastry wrapper into a recycle unit. “Where are her personal belongings?"

  "Evidence bag is on my desk. Haven't gotten to them yet. I know this is murder.” He shook his head. “Hell, it couldn't be anything else."

  Kyra picked up the evidence bag with the vial while Jeffrey walked across the room to inventory Donna's purse. “There are some carved letters in the glass."

  Jeffrey nodded as he slipped on a pair of gloves. “Yeah, can't make heads or tails of it."

  "Ah, crap.” Kyra groaned and put the bag down. “It's a freaking Voodoo token."

  He looked up, and grinned. He'd been waiting for her to connect the dots. “How can you hate Voodoo?"

  Kyra glared at him. “Find out how he killed her."

  "No worries, I'll get there. I always do."

  "Are you positive she wasn't raped?"

  "Only she would be positive, and we can't ask her. I will tel
l you that there is no physical indication that she was forced sexually."

  She picked up the evidence bag and shoved it in her carryall. “Where's the evidence log?"

  "I have it.” Jeffrey picked up the flat-pad and waved it.

  Kyra walked over to him and took the pad. She scrolled through the contents, found the vial in the list, and signed it out. “I'll call you later."

  "The bruising on your jaw..."

  "I have my nanobots disengaged."

  "Why?” Jeffrey's confusion was evident as his gaze traveled to her jaw, where the bruise was terrifically highlighted against her pale skin.

  Kyra shrugged. She wasn't interested in discussing her issues with nanotechnology. “See you later."

  Jeffrey looked back to Donna. “Hell of a way to start a Tuesday, kid."

  * * * *

  Kyra sat back at her desk and stared at the picture of Donna LaRoux. She closed the file and lifted her gaze to Commander Ethan Baker. “I really don't want to do this."

  "I understand."

  She stood and tossed the evidence bag on top of the file. “It's a game for him. The bones mean nothing."

  "You'll go see the Priestess Clara and ask her. She's a knowledgeable practitioner of Voodoo, and it is your responsibility to consider..."

  "Oh, for the love of God, a Voodoo priestess is not a legitimate lead.” Kyra slouched into her chair and crossed her arms over her breasts.

  Ethan reached over, brushed the evidence bag aside, and opened the folder. “Look at her, Kyra. She was nineteen years old. He left her dead and naked in an alley."

  Kyra dropped her gaze to the photo. “I know, Commander. I stood over her.” She straightened and stood. “I will visit Clara Tibideaux, and I will question her about the use of chicken bones in the practice of her religion. I will not, however, under any circumstances treat this case like a Voodoo thing. It's what he wants, but he won't get it. I'm not going to plaster this all over the media vids."

  "I know you'll do what needs to be done despite your personal feelings."

  Kyra pulled her jacket on and shoved the folder and evidence bag in her workbag. “I'll go off duty after I visit the witch."