by Tegan Maher
CHAPTER FIVE
I'D JUST MADE IT HOME and kicked off my shoes when Colleen called.
"Hey, Colleen. Any news?"
"Actually, yeah. He wasn't shot like we thought he was; he was stabbed, or more accurately, impaled."
I let that soak in. It made more sense than a shooting, but the hole in his shirt was round. “With what?"
"From what I can tell, some sort of wooden dowel; there were a couple splinters in his ribs. The hole in his chest is about an inch across and whatever they used went straight through his heart."
I pulled the scrunchie from my hair and ran my fingers through my trusses, scowling when I hit a couple snags. "Well at least that's explained, then. Any ideas as to what the weapon may actually have been?"
"None yet. I did an analysis on the splinters. I can tell you what kind of wood it is—maple—but that's about it."
That wouldn't do any good until we had more details, but it would be another nail in the coffin, so to speak, once we had either a suspect or a murder weapon. Maple was used to make everything from tables to picture frames. "Thanks, Colleen. I know it's late and I appreciate that you stayed and worked on it. Any idea how long he'd been dead?"
"Considering he was sort of already dead before somebody killed him, not really. I can’t use any of my standard methods to determine that."
"I was afraid you were going to say that. Go home and get some rest. Anything else will wait 'til morning."
I disconnected with her and called Sam. I knew I was gonna have to call my mom at some point, too, but I was putting it off. She took the interfering mother role to the nth degree, and I needed a fresh head and a longer fuse if I had to deal with her. Tomorrow would be soon enough.
Sam needed to know what I’d learned, though, so I flipped through my contacts and called him. He answered, and I gave him a rundown of my conversation with Colleen and filled him in on my visit to Sean's.
"Sean saw him at around four yesterday afternoon. It seems they were close, and he wanted time to collect himself and talk to his guests. I'm meeting him at Joe's in the morning."
He paused. "You sure you want to let him question his guests without you there, kiddo? Isn't that sorta giving them a heads up?"
I rolled my head on my shoulders in an attempt to ease the tension in my neck. "They'll hear about it anyway. To be honest, they're probably more scared of him than they are of me, so they'll be less prone to lie and more apt to share information with him. Plus, he is the head of the regional vampire council. I'm going to have to involve him, anyway."
"How much of a problem are they going to be?"
The scotch had left a warm glow in my belly, but it was wearing off. I loved my fast metabolism most of the time, but right then, it would have been nice for the edges of reality to be a bit fuzzy.
"It depends. I don't think it would be such a big deal if Sean weren't close to the guy because he wasn’t exactly a well-loved member of the community. Since he is, though, we may have a problem. Sean has a lot of power and long arms. If we’re the ones to find the guy, he'll have to cooperate, at least to a certain degree. If he finds him, it's possible we won't even know."
Sam paused, thinking. "When you sit down with him tomorrow, try to work something out with him. Get ahead of it. If I've learned anything about Sean Castle in the fifty years I've known him, it's that he's a man of his word. You're plugged in here, and he's not. Vamps may be more willing to talk to him, but that's the extent of his power. It's not like he can go around questioning non-paranormals, and even most of the witches and shifters in the area aren't going to talk to him over you."
He was right. Regardless of our diversity, my little town was still a small, southern town. We circled the wagons when something like this happened, and most folks weren't inclined to talk to outsiders. And even though he'd founded the town, Sean Castle was definitely an outsider. He drifted in once a decade or so and stayed for a few months or a year, but he didn't have any real roots there.
"Thanks, Sam."
"Sure thing, kiddo. I'll see you in the morning. Don't stay up chewin' on this all night."
I smiled; he knew me too well. "I won't. I'm beat. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
After we hung up, I poured myself a glass of wine and headed to the living room. Chaos stood up on the couch then leaned back on her haunches in a stretch, yawning.
"Did you catch all that?" I asked as I plopped down in my favorite overstuffed chair and pulled my feet up underneath me.
"I heard what you said, but have no clue what you were talking about. Sounds like a hot, steamin' mess, though, if the vampire council’s involved. Fill me in."
I did, careful not to leave anything out. If I'd learned anything about her since we'd started communicating, it was that she was sharp as a tack and was hardwired for logistical thinking. That, and she thought about food almost as often as I did.
She was quiet for a few seconds after I quit talking. "If it's a vampire, you know it falls under Sean's jurisdiction."
And there was the rub. I was the liaison between paranormals and nonparanormals, though most humans were clueless and didn't realize that. Whereas most shifter laws fell more into line with human ones—aside from violent crimes—vampire law was, by necessity, harsh.
Humans debated the morality of the death penalty, but in the vampire world, it was a necessity. Immortality had a way of going to some people's heads, and most of the serious crimes were against humans. Whereas in the human world, criminals frequently got away, that wasn't the case in the paranormal world. Between the inevitability of getting caught, and the promise of death, even the worst vampires tended to behave themselves.
My problem, though, was that I’d been pushing to get the council to work with me rather than parallel to me, because as it was, most vampires didn’t recognize my authority when it came down to brass tacks. That needed to change, because my laws applied to everybody, and I was going to enforce them equally, regardless of species.
Chaos ran her nails through her tail, brushing the fur until it was fluffy. "How are you going to explain this to the rest of the town if the killer turns out to be a vampire? I mean, they’re gonna want to see justice done. They’ll expect an arrest and trial. And if it's not a vampire, how are you going to keep Sean from killing them?"
I rubbed my face. "I have no idea. Those are problems for future me. Present me just wants to sip her wine, take a bath, and go to bed. Not to go all Scarlett O'Hara, but I've hit saturation for the day. I'll sleep on it and make some decisions in the morning."
She jumped onto my lap and nuzzled her head against my chest. "It'll be all right, Cori. It always is. We'll figure it out."
I hoped with all my heart she was right, but the realist in me reminded me I was dealing with the vampire council. Their idea of all right could end up being vastly different than mine.
CHAPTER SIX
DESPITE THE EVENTS of the day, I slept hard and awoke feeling halfway decent again. I beat Sean to Cuppa Joe's by ten minutes, so I took that time to sip on my first latte of the day and do some eavesdropping. I chose a table in the back of the cafe and people-watched while I waited.
The smell of cinnamon and the rich flavor of white chocolate in my cup of caffeine were sheer heaven, and I kicked back to relax and hear what was to be heard. Of course, the murder was all anybody was talking about, so I hoped to pick up something useful. You'd be amazed what you could learn if you were willing to listen, especially when you were sitting in the one of the town's two gossip factories.
Mable Bennett owned the beauty shop and it had held court for more than fifty years, but when Joe's opened twenty years ago, it became a secondary hub because it had the added benefit that men could join in on the fun.
Mona was the queen of the place; if you've ever watched Mel's Diner, picture Flo and you have a decent picture of Mona right down to the apron, though with a bottle-blonde beehive rather than red.
The air was full of speculatio
n, and I focused on separating the wheat from the chaff if such a thing was even possible.
"I heard he was playin' poker in the back of Sully's right before it happened," one older guy dressed in overalls said to his buddy.
"No," his friend said, shaking his head so that the light glinted off his bald spot. "He'd been at the Hook drinkin'. There wasn't even a game goin' at Sully's last night."
A group of women were clucking away like a flock of old hens a couple of tables down.
"He was with that Carly Sue Barker over at the Hook last night," a soccer mom wearing jeans and a Gap t-shirt said, her wide, botoxed eyes reflecting the judgment reserved for those righteous few fortunate enough to be better than everybody else.
"I heard that, too," her fellow soccer mom said, leaning in to whisper, "and I also heard her husband caught wind of it."
Now that caught my attention. Carly Sue Barker had been known around town to be generous with her attention before she was married, especially if there was cash or shiny objects involved. Don’t get me wrong—she wasn’t a hooker, but she wasn’t averse to free drinks, food, clothes, or anything else a man might be willing to pay for.
She somehow managed to catch a decent man named Clifford and settled down a few years back, but if she was up to her old tricks, her husband was a good ole boy who wasn't exactly known for his relaxed attitude and gentle spirit. If I had to pick a murder method for him, it would likely be beating, though it would be an act of passion rather than a planned thing. Maybe.
I was listening to see if I could pick up more when Sean joined me. He looked much better than he had the night before as he slid into the other side of the booth.
He started to say something, but I held up a hand. Whispering a spell, I put a dampening bubble around us so we wouldn't be overheard.
"Okay," I said, "Now we have privacy. Did you get a chance to talk to your guests?"
He nodded once. "I did. From what I gathered, he'd met a certain lady in his wanderings and was meeting her for drinks, though nobody seems to know where. As usual, he'd chosen a married one."
I never understood the draw of dating a married person, and said as much.
"You and I are of the same mindset," he said. "Marriage is sacred, but to people like Charles, a dalliance with a married woman works in his favor because it makes it virtually impossible for her to make demands on him. Of course, that was much more effective three hundred years ago when a husband could kill a woman for cheating, but rather than change with the times, he enjoys the challenge, I suppose."
I shook my head and took a sip of my coffee. "Well from what I understand, he may have picked the wrong girl to mess with." I explained what I'd just overheard.
He mulled that over for a second, though I doubt he took it seriously since Cliff was human. Vampires didn’t tend to perceive them as threats, which I thought was a little arrogant. After all, black widows were easy to crush with your foot unless they bit you on the toe first.
"Did you learn anything else from your people?” I asked. “Did anybody have a bone to pick with him?"
Sean shook his head. "For once, he was getting along with everybody." He raised a brow as he took a sip of his coffee—yes, vampires can drink coffee. "Of course, we hadn't started playing cards yet, so it's mostly been a relaxing vacation. We've had picnics, a hunt, the ball ... nothing with much opportunity to cause controversy or strife."
I'd hoped to hear there’d been a huge disagreement at his place so we could tie it up in a neat little bow. The last thing I wanted was a lingering murder investigation because the more time people had to focus on it, the harder it would be to deal with if the killer happened to be a vampire.
Something occurred to me.
"You know, it seems that if it were a vampire—or a shifter for that matter—the weapon would have gone clear through him and out his back. We're not exactly weak."
He pressed his lips together and nodded. "You're right. So you think we may be looking for a human?"
"Maybe," I said, lifting a shoulder. “Or maybe a witch, due to the tarot connection."
He waved a hand. "That could just be somebody calling him a fool. Trust me, he played the part well. Honestly, I cared about him, but I was in the minority by far. I'm surprised he lasted this long."
A shadow passed over his face and my heart went out to him. It was hard enough to lose a friend you'd known for ten or twenty years. I couldn't imagine how it felt if you'd known them for centuries.
I laid my hand over his. "I'm sorry for your loss Sean, and I’ll do everything in my power to find out who did it. I'm going to go talk to Carly Sue, then figure out where to go from there."
"If you learn anything new, please keep me apprised," he said, his expression neutral again.
Speaking of, I hadn't broached the topic of working together.
I paused for a minute, gathering my thoughts.
He cocked a brow at me. "Is there something else?"
Nodding, I took a deep breath and dove in. "Yeah, there kind of is. I know vampire law comes into play here, but we may be dealing with a non-vampire. I need to know that you'll let me handle it if that's the case. And also, will you agree to share any information useful to the investigation that you may learn? I'll give you my word that I'll do the same."
He studied my face for a minute, and I could see his extraordinary mind turning. "And what if it ends up being a vampire?"
I gave the question some thought. If that ended up being the case, there was nothing I could do about the sentencing according to current jurisdictional laws. Vampire law prevailed, and I had to respect that or the whole network failed. But ... "I'd still like to know who did it and why it happened, and I'd like to go through the motions of an arrest for the benefit of the humans in this town. What you do with him—or her—after that is your business."
"That's fair,” he said, stroking his chin as he considered the implications. “We have to maintain pretenses. But leaving it to you if it's not a vampire doesn't work for me, entirely. If it ends up being a shifter, I want your word that it'll be death."
I thought about that. It wasn't entirely my call to make—werewolf pack law granted a jury trial just like human law did. Plus, we weren't the only shifters in town. We had bear shifters, fox shifters, bird shifters. They'd agreed to live there under my pack rules for the sake of harmony, but they weren't going to agree to put a man who killed somebody accidentally or in self-defense to death, and I didn’t have the authority to speak for them.
"You know I can't speak for the pack. Or for other packs."
"You are the pack around here, Cori."
I shook my head. "I'm not, and you know it. I'm the leader, but I'm not the ruler." I pulled in a deep breath and released it. "I think it's fair to say that if it was cold-blooded murder, the person will be sentenced to death. But if there were extenuating circumstances—"
"If it was undeniably an accident or self-defense, I'd be willing to defer." He reached across the table and laid a cold hand over mine. "I'm not out for vigilante justice, Cori. I just want to know that the punishment will fit the crime, and that my community will see it as fair."
How could I argue with that? Wasn't that what justice was, after all? There was only one more possibility to be considered. "And if it was a human?"
He puffed out his cheeks. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."
That was the best I was gonna get, but to be honest, it was more than I'd expected.
CHAPTER SEVEN
AFTER COFFEE, I HEADED into the office. Since Joe's was only a block away from the courthouse where my office was, I'd parked in the side lot at work and walked. It only took me five minutes or so to walk back, but I was already getting sticky from the humidity, so I decided to go in through the front rather than walk around to the private, employees-only back entrance.
As soon as I stepped through the doors, I found Ms. Ellen, my ancient receptionist and resident force of nature, nose-to-nose with
another woman. Or as nose-to-nose as she could get at all of her five-foot-nothing.
The other woman, a heavy-set blue-hair wearing a paisley housedress and kneehigh stockings, looked like she was about to pop a vein. "It's public indecency's what it is! The woman should be arrested. Why, what if my Harry were to look over and see that? He has heart problems."
"Gertrude Wilson," Ms. Ellen replied in a tone that brooked no argument, "you know good and well the sheriff's busy with a murder investigation. She ain't got time to listen to you harp about what swimmin’ apparel Margo Finster chooses to wear around her own pool. If you'd keep your nose on your own side of the fence, you wouldn't have to worry about it, anyway."
I stopped in my tracks and cast a quick glance around the office to make sure we were alone. We were, so I focused my energy on Gertie, freezing her in place before she noticed I was there. She was a regular; if ever the time came when we went four days without hearing from her, I'd call in the medics to go check her place.
Monday, it had been the mailman. He'd changed his route so he could finish up before school let out, but it meant her mail came twenty minutes later than usual. She claimed it was a breach of contract, though I never did fully understand her logic on that one. Bottom line? She didn't get the TV Guide in time to do the crossword before her husband got home from his Fraternal Order of Groundhogs meeting.
The Friday before that, the twenty-somethings who lived beside her were barbecuing in their backyard at the ungodly hour of nine o'clock at night—grounds for disturbing the peace in her eyes.
Gertie was one of the time-sucks Sam had referred to when he declined the sheriff's position and pushed me into it.
I pulled in a deep breath and released it, then gave Ms. Ellen, who was doing her best to hide a grin, a sugary-sweet smile. "I'll triple your salary if you let me walk back out the door without having to deal with her."