A Model Murder

by Claire Kane

“Huh?” His expression turned to confusion, his eyes shifting back and forth between the two.

  “Yes.” Lacey decided to play along, even though she abhorred it. This was not a guy she wanted to pretend attraction to. Plus, it just had to be the moment that her ex-boyfriend, now guardian angel, had to appear right beside her. Victor opened his mouth to speak, but seeing there was some sort of confrontation, he didn’t. Lacey resumed. “I, um, have seen you around town, making your deliveries and thought you were uh, you know... cute?”

  Victor’s eyes widened at that, shooting surprised glares between the truck driver and Lacey. “You like this guy?” He motioned at him. Instantly his mind linked to hers, as they had a connection made possible by heavenly means. “Oh,” he said with understanding.

  Containing her own disgust, Lacey blinked and pressed her full lips together into a line.

  “You like me?” the delivery driver repeated, shoving a hand down the back of his work shorts, giving a scratch.

  Victor cut in as if the man could hear him. “Not really. She’s still in denial of her feelings for a certain angel.” He ran a transparent hand through his full head of transparent hair. “Tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome.”

  Lacey knew Victor was a tease, but was not in the mood for his jokes at the moment. “Yes,” she mustered a response for the delivery driver. “You are very… handsome.”

  The man’s eyes lit up a bit. “Oh, okay. Well, I finish my route in a couple hours. Do you wanna go out to lunch or somethin’?”

  “Yes,” Nainai said at the same time Lacey said no with an emphatic shake of her head.

  That surprised everybody. Lacey hurriedly said, “I don’t like men who at first meeting chase after me angrily.”

  His eyebrows quirked. “But you admitted to stalking me…”

  “No. Don’t even try convincing me.” Lacey put up a hand. “It’s better this way.” She turned back around and continued pushing her grandmother, hoping her excuse worked.

  “Sorry, man,” Victor said to the shocked guy in empathy, though he knew he couldn’t be seen nor heard. “She’s a tough nut to crack. Trust me. I would know.”

  *

  “If I get another job like that one,” Lacey said, angrily strapping on her seatbelt, “I swear I’ll crack!” Although Nainai sat beside her up front, it was Victor St. John she was speaking to, riding in the back seat. And Nainai figured as much.

  Surprisingly, it had been the chief of the local police precinct who had suggested she become a P.I. Not long after her work uncovering the “Model Murderer,” he summoned her to his office. The discussion was a wash, however. He commended her for her abilities, grit, and tenacity, but warned her of interfering in police business. In other words, it was a pat on the back mixed with a slap on the wrist. It was sufficient motivation all the same

  “Let me tell you,” she rattled on, “being a private eye is not as glamourous as it seems! Just last night, for a client who’d suspected her husband was cheating on her, I was hanging from a tree branch, peering in at a bedroom with binoculars. Turned out, he was cheating on her… with video games at his brother’s! Oh, and last week I had two workers’ comp cases. For one, I had to stalk some poor guy outside his home, taking picture of him trimming tree branches. And now… Now I just busted a man for not putting out cones. Cones! These are not the kind of cases I’m used to.”

  Victor placed a finger to his chin. “I see what you mean. You’re used to dealing with drug dealers, murderers, and pimps?” Sarcastically, he added, “I have no idea why you’d miss any of that.”

  Pulling out of her parking space, Lacey turned to look over her shoulder. “Victor, I can’t help it. I crave to do something more meaningful with my life. If that means helping to investigate a murder, then so be it. When will the stars align? Forgive me, that’s a figure of speech. When will God give me the chance to do that again?!”

  “Be careful what you wish for,” Victor said knowingly.

  Just then, a bright redhaired pedestrian hurried their steps to avoid Lacey’s backing out. The woman glanced over at the driver side and they locked eyes. It was Cathy Higgins, Lacey’s former editor at KZTB. Most importantly, Cathy had been a good friend.

  The vintage-trendy woman excitedly waved, wearing a blue cardigan over a ruffly, floral dress shirt. “Hey, you!”

  Lacey put her foot on the brake and rolled down the window, beaming. “Hello!”

  Through bejeweled cat-eye glasses, Cathy’s green eyes sparkled as she approached. “How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you in a while.” She was holding two large shopping bags. Being that it was just two months after Christmas, that wouldn’t stop the well-off friend from indulging in one of her favorite past times.

  “Honestly,” Lacey said, her smile dropping, “I really, really miss investigative journalism. Last night I had a dream that I was back at KZTB of all places, and that’s crazy, right?”

  Cathy’s expression went from sympathetic to light-bulb-moment in a flash. “Hey, you know I’ve been promoted to Senior Editor—”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” Lacey said, shaking her head. “How is that supposed to make me feel better? Although, I am happy for you. Congratulations.”

  “Well, my friend,” Cathy leaned down to be eye-level, “it means I have much more clout. The new manager and I are this close.” She crossed her fingers.

  “Okay, are you offering me a job?” Lacey’s nicely-plucked eyebrows went up.

  Tilting her head, Cathy said, “I can’t, but I can probably convince Sally, the new manager, to.” She quickly added with excitement, “There’s the perfect opportunity right now for you to get a foothold back inside the station. Sally can’t think of anyone who’d fit the task. After you helped solve the case of the Model Murderer, I’m sure sure she’d love to take you on. Plus, she owes me a favor for something I won’t mention.”

  “Really?” Lacey said intrigued. “What is that?”

  “I said I wouldn’t mention it.”

  “Not the favor. The job.”

  A horn honked. A woman trying to drive down their lane was making irritated gestures for Lacey to move; if she were a tea kettle, steam would’ve shot her lid off. Lacey obliged by pulling back into her space and Cathy followed.

  Pressing her bright red fingertips together, Cathy said, “You’d be flying to Vegas, on an all-expenses-paid trip to investigate the magicians Zigmund and Ross!”

  TWO

  “We’re going to Vegas?”

  Lacey smiled at the old woman seated in a wheelchair before her and nodded. “That’s right, Nainai. Can you believe it? This could be my chance to convince my former employer to hire me back.”

  “You lost your job?”

  “Yes, Nainai,” Lacey said, nearly huffing. This was something that she and her grandmother had discussed a few times before. Lacey quickly snapped to her patient and loving face. “It’s a long story, but my boss wasn’t someone you’d want me to work for. Trust me.”

  “No need to explain. I trust you. Integrity has always been your greatest virtue.” Nainai pointed. “But this might mean I need another lucky cat,” she spoke of her ceramic statue that waved its paw with the point to lure wealth into their little abode.

  “One is good enough for now,” Lacey said, knowing how superstitious her grandmother could be. Superstitions aside, she smiled at the thought of escaping a late winter in Seattle to fly to one of the most famous places on Earth. A place where it would be warm.

  “I’m going to need some new shoes,” Nainai said, “and a new dress. I’ve got to have something to show those dancing girls how it’s done.”

  Lacey laughed and hugged her mother’s mother. “I’ll make sure of it, Grandmother.” Despite her meager income, she felt okay not counting the cost.

  “Don’t call me that, Lacey. Every time you do, you make me think you’re in trouble.”

  “We’ll get you a dress and some shoes, Nainai. We’ve still got a couple days
before we fly. I’m sure we can find you something by then.” Her grandmother smiled and nodded, then closed her eyes to rest; she was doing more and more of that lately, it seemed.

  Lacey sat on the black leather couch and picked up a folder off a cushion. She opened it and flipped through what Cathy had prepared for her trip. They were dictated news reports and photos about the mysterious death of Zigmund and Ross’s assistant Chanel Lockhart. She was found in her apartment, still in her blue sequined leotard, a bottle of empty sleeping pills at her bedside. The autopsy proved she had OD’d, but those closest to her insisted foul play. Lacey stopped at a comment from one interview in particular, where Lockhart’s best friend and roommate, Ginger Rose, made a most unusual statement: “Black magic is to blame!”

  Once, Lacey would have rolled her eyes at that. Even having been through what she had with the supernatural, she was still leery of quacks and superstitious hacks. Yet, she had seen things that had made her blood run cold and led her to believe that even if many people were only pretending to work in “dark arts,” that not all of them were fakes.

  Affixed to the article was a green sticky note with Cathy’s loopy handwriting: Ginger’s Ph. # 702-555-1535. CALL HER. Although grateful for the contact, Lacey knew there’d also be someone else she’d need to call.

  I’m going to need you for this one, too, Victor, she thought, calling to her deceased ex-boyfriend. I know you said you’re on another short assignment for Heaven, but once you get done, at least try to meet me at the airport, okay? You know how well I deal with demons.

  Victor didn’t answer immediately or directly, but Lacey felt a warm sense of acknowledgement. Whatever it was she was heading into by going to Vegas, at least she wouldn’t be alone.

  *

  “Since you’re going to Sin City, I have some prep work for you to do ASAP,” Rao said with utter seriousness. She was Victor’s spirit guide and former pet cat, previously known as Ms. Tibbits. Inside of one of Heaven’s universities, otherwise known as a temple, the furry black-and-gold body floated before a portable rolling chalkboard. For effect, she wore round spectacles that made her green eyes appear larger.

  As the only student attending this special class, Victor leaned back in his desk with his hands behind his head. The small bright room smelled of Frankincense, and a chandelier of more than a thousand pieces of cut-beaded glass hung above him, shining like a sun.

  “Okay, shoot,” Victor said, taking it all in. “I’m listening.”

  With a whip of Rao’s paw, several books suddenly appeared and slammed down on Victor’s desk with a thud. “Whoa, what’s all this?” Victor asked, glaring.

  “Just some textbooks written by moi. Have a look.”

  Victor looked at the top one. “Being Obedient to Your Cat Spirit Guide by Professor Rao Tibbits.” His brow furrowed over it, before a smile sprang across his face. “Hey,” Victor

  said with excitement, “you kept your last name I gave you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too excited. You still can’t call me Ms. Tibbits. For today, it’s simply Professor. Got it?”

  “Got it, Professor,” Victor conceded, still smiling. One at a time, he read the rest of the titles. “The Art of Meditation, Fighting Black Magic For Dummies, and lastly—The Guardian Angel’s Edition of Touring Las Vegas Without Totally Screwing Things Up.” Victor had to hold back a laugh. “I must say, Professor, these are some interesting choices.”

  “Don’t question my methods. I got tenure off that last one. You wouldn’t believe how many angels have gone on assignment to Las Vegas only to make big whopper mistakes.”

  “That won’t be me.” Victor crossed his arms with pride.

  “That, dear pupil, is what you think now. Read my books. Be obedient. Then things are less likely to go afoul. Now, are you ready to practice a little meditation?”

  Victor opened his mouth, but was too slow.

  “Sit back, straighten your spine, and relax.” Rao teleported beside him and snapped a ruler across his hands.

  “What the... ? What was that for?”

  “A trick I learned from the nuns. Now do as I say.”

  *

  “Is this what an airplane is like, dear?” Nainai asked as Lacey carefully levered her out of her wheelchair at the end of the jetway, and through the main cabin door.

  “It’s just like the other ones you’ve flown on, Nainai. In fact, this isn’t even the largest or nicest you’ve used. Do you remember when we flew you here from Tokyo?” A flight attendant stepped forward, offering to help Lacey maneuver her grandmother into the first class seats KZTB had popped for. Lacey had insisted on them as a condition of taking the job, since she wasn’t about to leave Nainai home alone, and maneuvering the old woman into a coach-class seat would have been a nightmare. Besides, it wasn’t every day she got to fly first class.

  “When have I ever been on an airplane?” Nainai said. “You know your mother raised you to be honest, now, Lacey.”

  Lacey sighed, and, with the flight attendant, eased Nainai down into the cushioned seat. “Yes, Nainai. She did. And I just told you, you flew here from Tokyo.”

  “So when are you going to be honest with that hot, hunky man of yours? Why, if I were even forty-years younger, I’d chase him myself. Let them call me a cougar.”

  Shock flashed in the flight attendant’s eyes for a moment, then a controlled smile flitted across her face. Lacey felt her face flush at her grandma’s usual forwardness, but played it off with a sincere giggle. Victor was, in fact, doing a mid-air backfloat halfway down the cabin. He caught Lacey’s eye, and blew a kiss. She blushed, grateful he’d be along for this trip. Cathy hadn’t given her all that many details, but knowing her luck, things might go south. If the last few months had proven anything, it was that it was supremely helpful to have an ex-boyfriend around who could walk through walls and read minds. “We’re fine, Nainai. Now here, let me help you with your seatbelt.”

  Not quite three hours later, Lacey spotted Las Vegas through her window. The city was a neon crown resting on the dark, velvet blanket of the Nevada desert, its casinos and a single, massive tower not unlike Seattle’s Space Needle rising into the night. A thrill went through her; she’d seen Vegas plenty of times on TV and in the movies, but she’d never actually had the chance to go.

  She pictured herself walking the internationally-renowned Las Vegas Strip, dining on exotic food and drink, and luxuriating in the world-class amenities the town’s resorts had to offer. She could practically smell the steamy, lavender water of a spa after a lucky streak on the casino floor. She pictured herself sitting with high rollers and movie stars. “Why, yes, Mister Pitt,” she imagined herself saying, “I’m here alone. No, I don’t have any plans for the evening. The divorce with Angelina is final, yes?”

  Nainai would shop to her heart’s content in the palatial expanse of the Forum Shops, or the Fashion Show Mall, using Lacey’s luck at the tables to fund the whole affair. Then they’d both eat themselves sick at buffets fit for kings, and wind down by catching a good show or three. Most importantly, she’d dig in and find out exactly what KZTB was looking for, reminding them of just what a good thing they’d let go by not bringing her back right away. She’d smile and accept their apology, and consider part time work with them, as she built her business into something Nainai could point to and say, “That’s my granddaughter’s firm.”

  Yes, Vegas was bound to be more than a little exciting. How could it not be?

  She felt a presence nearby, and flicked her eyes to the side to find Victor floating beside her, brow furrowed deeply and scowling. “So this is Vegas, huh?” His voice was wary. “You really sure you want to come here, Lace?”

  “Yes, why not?”

  Victor moved his shoulders like he had an icky feeling, and his face twisted up. But what Lacey mostly noticed was how her guardian angel sure had a nice build under his light blue T-shirt. God didn’t need to upgrade that to perfection. Too bad he wasn’t compatibl
e… or alive… enough. “They don’t call it ‘Sin City’ for nothing,” he said with disgust.

  You’re already seeing things that I can’t, aren’t you? Speaking to Victor mentally, Lacey peered out her window in seriousness with her almond-shaped dark brown eyes.

  Victor didn’t answer.

  What Lacey didn’t know was there was plenty to see aboard the plane. One demon clung to a balding man’s shoulders, hunching over him as if starving. Victor sensed it was his gambling addiction. The man literally had slot machines dancing the Conga through his mind. Demons of addiction paid no attention to Victor. They rode their afflicted like a parasite sucking blood, never wanting to let go. There were quite a few of them aboard, in one form or another. A blond forty-something woman downed yet another alcoholic beverage, her demon stroking her head in drunken pleasure. At the very back of the plane was the worst, according to Victor. One man’s demon actually looked like a pimp… if pimps came in black vaporous forms from Hell. Maybe it was the giant clock around his neck, or the purple hat.

  Victor shook his head. Weird. “Just tell me you’ll spend most of your time at the buffets or the Celine Dion concerts. Wait… never mind.”

  What? Lacey asked, blinking.

  “Gluttony…” He lifted an iridescent finger. “And I just don’t care for Celine Dion’s music.”

  Lacey tilted her head and blinked more. I think I’ll look into her prices, she teased.

  “Nah, you don’t have the money for that,” he said matter-of-factly. When he received another disapproving stare, he added, “I mean, you have free tickets to those lion-taming, Liberace-dressing magicians, anyway. And that’s actually something I wouldn’t mind seeing.”

  Glad to know this trip is all about you, Lacey smirked. “Tigers,” she said aloud. Nainai gave her a sly, sidelong glance and a wink. Her grandmother had grown familiar with the fact that Lacey was still in contact with her deceased one-time boyfriend.

  “Excuse me?” Victor asked.