The Undead Kama Sutra

by Mario Acevedo

“How did Janice Wyndersook’s parents get you on the case so fast?”

  Had Karen forgotten that I said Vanessa’s folks had hired me or was she testing me?

  “I work for Vanessa’s family.”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Karen nodded. She looked away for a moment.

  “You don’t act like you’re heartbroken about being fired,” I said.

  “You can’t believe what they expected me to live on,” she replied. “I’m trying to get back on my feet financially, so I scrimp on everything. I’ve been living on cream of wheat and canned ravioli from the food bank.”

  “Back on your feet from what?” I brought a helping of Szechuan pork to my lips and set it back on my plate.

  “What else? An asshole criminal of an ex.”

  “Criminal?”

  “Really. A fucking crook. He cleaned out our joint bank account, maxed out our credit cards buying gold coins, and split town in my car with his cousin the stripper. First cousin, I need to add, the incestuous tramp.” Karen shoved food into her mouth between sentences. “God, if love is blind then my eyes must have been plucked out of my head on this one.”

  “You needed the job at Prairie Air and yet you let yourself get fired.”

  “As much as I’ve been butt-fucked in life, you’d think I’d be the last person to stand on principle on anything. But this was wrong.”

  “In what way specifically?”

  “The manifest on Flight 2112.” Karen put her fork down and wiped her lips with a napkin. I didn’t think she was done eating so much as taking a breather.

  Karen set her elbows on either side of the plate and leaned toward me. “I got fired because I was asked to lie about the manifest. Vanessa Tico and Janice Wyndersook were booked for the flight but never boarded.”

  “You sure?”

  Karen grabbed a fried wonton and munched it. “Absolutely. When their names didn’t show up as having scanned their boarding passes I called the plane and spoke to the attendant. She gave me a head count. There were four empty seats out of twenty. Should have only been two. Wasn’t hard to miss.”

  “Why did you go to the trouble of checking to see if Vanessa and Janice had boarded?”

  “Because this was the first time I’ve ever had passengers miss a flight. Since they boarded on the ramp versus down a Jetway, there was the possibility they had gone out the door of another commuter airline. Not likely, considering security, but it has happened.”

  “What were you asked to lie about?” I asked.

  “That Vanessa and Janice had boarded and that the manifest reflected that.”

  “Why and who asked you to lie?”

  “The why I don’t know. The who were my boss and his boss.”

  “Both employees of Prairie Air?”

  Karen nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Do they routinely deal with the manifest?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “Is changing a manifest something out of the ordinary?”

  Karen rolled her eyes. “Hell yes.”

  “Why would your bosses ask you to change it?”

  “That’s the why question, right? Like I told you, I don’t know. Maybe it was the feds?”

  The question made me pause. “Feds?”

  “One of those Go Teams arrived early this morning to investigate the crash. They did interviews and took records from the booking clerks and the maintenance crew.”

  “And they interviewed you?” I asked.

  “Not directly. They were in the office when my bosses were asking me to change the manifest.”

  “But the manifest is on the computer, right? There would be a record that it had been altered.”

  “That’s why they wanted me to go back and change it. To make it look like it had been my mistake by not putting those two passengers on the manifest. And they wanted me to sign an affidavit that I had made a mistake and not Prairie Air.”

  “And if you didn’t cooperate?”

  “I’d get fired for insubordination.”

  “And these feds? What were they doing during the interview?”

  “Just watching. Once they made me wait in the hall while they discussed something with my bosses.”

  “How did you know they were feds?”

  “Because my boss kept calling them ‘the feds.’ Two of them had NTSB badges and the other an ID with the initials RKW.”

  Rockville Kamza Worthington. The consultant firm Goodman worked for. He was within tackling distance. Why was Goodman interested in changing the manifest? The corpses of Vanessa and Janice weren’t in the morgue trailer and, according to Karen, they had never boarded the doomed flight. So why the charade of claiming they had been killed in the crash?

  My kundalini noir twitched with suspicion. What about the other crash, the Cessna Caravan? Were any of those victims missing?

  I asked, “What did the man…it was a man who wore the RKW badge?”

  “Yeah. About your height. More filled out. Short blond hair. Quiet. Late forties I’d guess. Looks like he works outside a lot. Wore one of those official blue windbreakers.”

  Goodman, for sure.

  “You get his name?”

  “No. As far as I was concerned, he was just another bureaucratic busybody.”

  “Your bosses threatened you with dismissal?”

  “Not in those words. It was more like sign this or you’re out on your ass.”

  “And your bosses were comfortable with this?”

  “Charles, my immediate supervisor, wasn’t. He’s a nice enough guy otherwise but I could tell he didn’t want to join me in the unemployment line. My other boss is a real career prick. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t admit to making a mistake. Of course, I didn’t make a mistake. Even if I cooperated, I knew this wouldn’t be the end of the story. Something else comes up, a criminal investigation for instance, and do you think they’d admit to pressuring me to sign that affidavit?”

  Karen and I locked eyes for a moment. I sensed her gratitude; she’d found someone on her side. Maybe she would extend that gratitude to the bedroom.

  “Who else could verify the manifest?”

  “The flight attendant. After the crash, now it’s just me.”

  I tried to remember which of those corpses in the trailer belonged to the flight attendant. Not that I could’ve gotten her to talk.

  I scooped rice with my fork and pretended it tasted good. “What now?”

  Karen sighed. She ran a hand over her scalp and fluffed her hair. “Find work. And pronto. My rent is due at the end of next week and I won’t have enough to cover it.”

  Karen had been more than helpful. Thanks to her, the light on Goodman shined even brighter. This Dan Goodman was my man.

  I fished a roll of hundreds from my pocket and kept the roll below the level of the table so Karen couldn’t see what I was doing. I removed twenty bills, cupped them in my hand, and offered them to Karen.

  She stared at the money. “What’s that for?”

  “To give you a little breathing room until you find more work.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  “There is none. My client gave me a good advance and so far, you’ve been my best lead.”

  Karen took the money and counted it. “You sure about this?”

  “Of course.”

  She folded the bills and shoved them into her purse. “Don’t expect no quid pro quo. Like putting out.”

  “Didn’t cross my mind.”

  “Well, make sure that it doesn’t.”

  The way she snapped at me meant I was wrong in thinking there was chemistry between us. How could I have misread her? Usually, when I’m with a woman alone like this, sex is not a matter of if but when. My vampire lure is always out there. Why wasn’t she interested?

  The waiter came by and took Karen’s plate. She asked for hot tea. After the waiter left, she asked me, “What’s next?”

  “After lunch?” I was hoping for a chance to check out Karen’
s bra size, but considering her tone, I didn’t want a repeat of the debacle I had with Belinda in Oswego. “I keep going with the investigation.”

  The waiter brought hot tea. Karen poured a cup and took a sip. “Got time for a break?”

  “As in?”

  “As in, I got the afternoon off. Duh.” She sipped again. “You play pool? There’s a sports bar about a half mile from here.”

  “I can hold my own.” Okay, maybe I did have a second chance.

  Karen laughed. “Hold your own. Good luck with that. I’m going to kick your ass.”

  Did chemistry flicker between us?

  I paid the check for both of us. Karen and I had come to the restaurant in separate cars; I drove a Monte Carlo rental, she a little Metro. Karen had taken the last spot behind the restaurant while I parked down the street. I went back to my car and would follow her Metro to the sports bar.

  If the afternoon unfolded as I imagined it would, and we ended up together, I wouldn’t make the same mistake as I had with Belinda. Karen was getting a dose of vampire hypnosis.

  A woman screamed.

  The scream had come from Karen’s direction.

  My fingers and the skin on my arms tingled with dread. My kundalini noir writhed in alarm. So much for my sixth sense giving me a warning. The scream I heard meant the worst had already happened.

  I sprinted down the sidewalk and through an alley back to the tiny lot behind the Ling Ding Chinese Palace.

  A woman stared pale-faced at the ground beside Karen’s Metro. Two busboys stood at the back door of the restaurant and also looked at the ground.

  Karen lay on her back. Both legs were twisted under her hips. Her head faced the Metro and lifeless eyes gazed at the car door. Wet, shiny blood pooled around her head and matted the blond hair against the asphalt. Blood oozed from two small holes at the back of her skull.

  Death had been lightning-quick. Karen had collapsed and rolled backward on her hip.

  I panned the faces around me. “Anybody see anything?”

  The two busboys shook their heads. The woman didn’t react to my question.

  Karen’s key ring was by her right hand. Her purse remained tucked under her left arm. Nothing was taken.

  I crouched and examined the bullet wounds in her skull. The holes were identical round punctures an inch apart. Too small to be 9 mm or .38. Most likely a .22.

  I scanned the ground for the cartridge cases. Nothing but gravel, gum wrappers, and cigarette butts.

  Why hadn’t I heard the gunshots?

  A silencer? Of course .22s were easier to silence than larger-caliber weapons. And a couple of .22 slugs into the skull was enough to flatline anyone.

  The shots looked expertly delivered. Karen hadn’t been simply murdered, she had been assassinated.

  Chapter

  23

  Another good lead and another one dead as well. Only Karen didn’t deserve it.

  Why kill her? What few personal effects Karen had were still on her body. Robbery wasn’t the motive.

  Maybe the killer wasn’t after what she carried but what she had in her head: information. And with her dead, that information was gone forever.

  If this was an assassination, why kill her like this and leave evidence of a professional hit? Why not run her down, or break into her house and make it look like a burglary gone bad? Or did she have to be shut up immediately?

  Now I knew what she had known. Did her killer realize that? And if so, was I next?

  Karen had been dead less than a few minutes. The killer had to be close by.

  My kundalini noir coiled like a snake in its den—wary, suspicious, prepared.

  Pedestrians gathered to gawk at the body. Was one of them the murderer? I could take out my contacts and read their auras but that would give away my vampire nature. There were about a dozen people around me, too many to hypnotize.

  A waiter appeared in the back door of the restaurant, the same Asian guy who had served us. A busboy mumbled to him and motioned toward the Metro. The waiter’s expression went from concern to shock. He walked to the Metro and halted to stare at Karen’s body. His face turned ashen-white. He looked at me and pointed a finger. “She was with you.”

  The crowd gave a collective accusing gasp.

  The wail of an approaching police siren told me this attention was only going to make it worse for me.

  I backed away toward the alley. I wanted to turn and run, but if I did that, then everyone would presume I was guilty of something.

  “Where are you going?” The waiter scowled. He stepped around the Metro and followed me.

  What was up his tight ass? He was no cop.

  The waiter jabbed a finger toward Karen’s body. “What happened to her?”

  The siren echoed within the walls of the alley.

  The waiter trotted after me. “The police will be here. They’ll want to talk to you.”

  Maybe this guy was the assassin. He grabbed for my arm. I moved at vampire speed and was instantly out of his reach.

  He stared dumbfounded. He yelled over his shoulder in Chinese and chased me, changing his shouting to English. “What happened to your lady friend? Why are you leaving?”

  I turned away to remove my contacts. Where the alley emptied onto the street, I whirled about and faced the waiter.

  The pupils of his dark brown eyes gaped like tiny mouths. His aura pulsed once. I zapped the waiter hard to keep him out for a full minute at least. I lifted him into a Dumpster and dropped him on a pile of yesterday’s fried rice and peanut sauce.

  I returned to my car and sped off. Even though I had an open ticket back to Chicago, I wondered if flying was the safest bet.

  In the rearview mirror, I could see people run onto the sidewalk. A police car flew past me and skidded to a stop in front of them. People ran to the driver’s door and gestured after me.

  The police car raced from the curb and U-turned to pursue me. Going to the airport was out of the question.

  I mashed the gas pedal and the Monte Carlo catapulted forward.

  A second police car shot from the next intersection and swerved into me. His front left fender crunched against my right rear. My car spun ninety degrees and I faced the wrong direction down a one-way street.

  I gave the Monte Carlo more gas and bolted down the one-way. The second cop car swung around the corner in pursuit. Cars and trucks juked around me, horns blaring like shouted curses.

  A city bus lurched into the next intersection. I jerked the wheel and cut in front of it. The cop behind me tried the same maneuver only to have his cruiser T-bone the bus.

  I zigzagged through the city and wound up on State Highway 210 going east. A helicopter shadowed me. Blue and red lights flashed in my mirrors. The noose tightened. No way could I escape by car. Maybe I should crash into a building and disappear on foot.

  Up ahead, patrol cars blocked the highway. Cops scrambled out of their cars and readied weapons.

  The pursuing cars slowed and let me approach the barricade by myself. I would be the only one in the field of fire.

  Well, if they wanted me, I’d make them work for it.

  I gunned the engine and steered to the right. The Monte Carlo flattened sign posts and rumbled over the shoulder and across the rough grass toward the Missouri River.

  The engine revved into a scream. The Monte Carlo bounced over a small cliff. The front of the sedan angled toward the water. For an instant I was airborne. The brown water of the Missouri River filled my windshield. I braced for the impact.

  My front bumper smashed into the water. The airbag detonated and slapped my face.

  Chapter

  24

  Water splashed across the windshield and windows. The Monte Carlo bobbed in the turbulent river. Steam curled from under the hood. Lights sputtered on the dashboard.

  A voice called to me from the stereo speakers. She had the perky earnestness of a Girl Scout rehearsing for a lifesaver merit badge. “On Star here. Do you
need help? Are you okay?”

  “Help? Think you could make me invisible?”

  “Pardon?”

  Bullets peppered the roof. The cops weren’t even going through the pretense of rescuing me.

  “Sir, I show that you’re in the Missouri River. Is that correct, sir?”

  “I’m looking for my boat.”

  “Uh-uh,” the voice said. “I’m going to summon the police.”

  A bullet punched through the side window. “Don’t bother. They know exactly where I am.”

  “Sir. Sir. Could you verify that you’re…” The voice cut out. The lights on the dash dimmed and went dark.

  I tilted the steering wheel up, undid my safety belt, and smashed the driver’s window with my elbow. Cold river water cascaded in and splashed the contacts out of my eyes. The Monte Carlo tipped to the left as brown water flooded the interior.

  In seconds the coupe was rolling underwater and still sinking. I pushed the door open and swam clear. The current grabbed me like a giant hand and shoved me against rocks and mounds of silt.

  The police expected the river to carry me downstream. I dug my feet into the muddy bottom, turned upstream, and plodded forward. The river current pummeled me and I groped along like a blind crayfish.

  I came across a pile of rocks and climbed them. My head broke the turbulent surface. A bridge loomed over me, about three hundred meters from where I had ditched the car.

  In the distance, police cars rolled close to the riverbank. A couple of helicopters hovered high above the water. Just as I thought, they expected me to float down with the current.

  Would they issue an APB? Did they know who I was? If they had the license number to the Monte Carlo, then the rental agency would give them my name. I could see SEEKING FELIX GOMEZ, PERSON OF INTEREST flashing on those Amber Alert highway signs.

  If I climbed out of the water now and ventured into public, my wet, soggy appearance would attract even more attention. I couldn’t risk it. Better that I hide until dark.

  I used cracks in a concrete river wall as handholds to move upstream. Water poured from a culvert above my head. The opening looked big enough to squeeze through. With luck, it would take me far enough from the river, where I could get out and escape.