To Catch a Stolen Soul

by R. L. Naquin

  Bonnie patted his hand. “He’s studying to get his license here. He’ll be fine.”

  I hoped he would be. I glanced around at the people in my midst. I hoped they’d all be fine.

  Especially since I couldn’t shake the idea that every one of them could be in danger.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I walked back through the alley and found that the food trucks—including Lisa’s wounded one—were gone. I checked the area but didn’t turn up anything that might qualify as a clue. I’d hoped to discover another piece of the mirror I had in my pocket or a discarded pocketknife that could’ve been used to puncture Lisa’s tires and tie the whole thing back to the murders.

  That sort of luck was only for folks who hadn’t used up all their lucky gargoyle snot. All I found for my trouble was a couple more bottle caps for Ash.

  After a bit of searching, I sat on the grass and called Truman. “Found your murder weapon.” I kept my back against a tree so I could watch the alley in case someone thought I was supposed to be the next target. Because I had no doubt somebody would be the next target. This wasn’t over.

  “Did you? I’d love to see it.” He murmured something away from the phone. “I’ve got Hector here doing the autopsy. Would you like to come down?”

  I most certainly did not want to go down there and watch an autopsy. “Sure. Can you send someone to get me? I don’t think pulling up in front of your building in a food truck is particularly subtle.”

  “You still at the business park?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll send Joan right out. She’ll be there in ten.”

  During those ten minutes, I watched the slow traffic going in and out of the bank and the café, and at least four people exited the alley and went back through. They all stopped at the side door and knocked, and someone stood in the doorway and gave them something to eat or drink. Merle’s café was past due a visit from me. They seemed to be kindhearted people over there. It was time for me to find out how friendly they were to people going in through the front door.

  I hoped Ash would be hungry for dinner. We’d be coming back tonight.

  Joan pulled up in a silver Toyota that looked like she usually drove it to soccer practice to drop off her swamp kids. Maybe she did. There was a car seat in the back, and I spotted a few Cheerios on the floor.

  “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “No problem. My ex has the little guys for the next few days, so I’m planning on working late. I’ll get you back to your room when you’re done.” She drove us through town to a quiet residential neighborhood, down a long driveway and around to a garage that faced away from the street.

  “I expected an office.” I climbed out of the car, admiring the two-story farmhouse. It was painted white with yellow trim, and its porch wrapped nearly all the way around. The house was pretty, but didn’t stick out in the neighborhood. Anybody could have lived in it. Instead, a team of supernatural law enforcement agents used it as their secret base. To me, that was pretty damn cool.

  Joan led me through the garage into the house. Bubba was in the kitchen eating a salad. He waved and shoved another bite into his mouth. I waved back, and Joan took me through a door that led downstairs to the basement.

  Unlike what I imagined the rest of the houses on the street had in their basements, this one was lit by fluorescent overhead lights and was painted white—walls, floor and ceiling. Along one wall was a bank of silver drawers. I recognized their purpose from watching television. If I opened one, it would be deep enough to hold a body.

  Truman stood in the center of the room next to a table full of shiny, sharp-looking tools. “Come on over. We’ll show you what we’ve found.”

  I hesitated. From where I was standing, I could see bare legs stretched out on a table behind him. If I came forward, I knew I’d see the rest of Sandra, most likely with her insides more or less on her outside.

  I swallowed and stepped forward. “So, what have you got?”

  Truman lifted a hand toward the man across the table from him. “This is Hector.”

  Hector tipped his head at me. “Pleasure.” He set Sandra’s heart on the table and made as if to shake my hand. When I didn’t move right away, he realized what he was doing and chuckled. “Sorry.”

  His smile was a little disarming. On the surface, he was a good-looking guy with blond hair and blue eyes. Nice muscles. He turned his head, and the light caught that odd shimmer that showed me what was beneath the illusion. His skin was a dark, bumpy green like a crocodile, and his smile showed so many sharp teeth, they shouldn’t have all fit in his mouth.

  I didn’t even have a name for the sort of creature he was.

  My smile was polite. “What have you found, Hector?” I hoped I didn’t look freaked out. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  He leaned over the body and pointed to the wound across her throat. “Obviously, this is the cause of death, though you can see here and here—” he indicated places on her arms “—there’s bruising where she was held down.”

  My stomach wrestled with me, and I had a mental argument with it until I won and it settled. “Were you able to get any prints or, I don’t know, hair? Something that might lead us to who did this?”

  He held up a finger. “I did find something interesting.” He turned away, then came back with a small metal dish. He held it out for me to see something shiny in the bottom. “It’s very small, but I pulled a sliver of glass or mirror from the incision. It was likely a piece of the murder weapon. Truman said you found something?”

  “Yes.” I pulled the newspaper-wrapped package from my pocket, unwrapped it and handed him the plastic bag. “I found this where Sandra...” I paused and glanced down at her. “At where the body was.”

  Truman leaned over the table and peered through the bag. “Take it out. Let’s see what we’ve got.”

  Hector reached in with a gloved hand and plucked the bloody chunk of mirror from the bag. “Oh, yeah. This has to be it. Look at all that blood. Good find. I’ll get the blood tested to be sure it’s a match, but I don’t have any doubt.”

  “Does it help us figure out who did it, though?” My shoulders and back tensed. “Honestly, we don’t have much time. I have to find that ring. I have less than a week before it becomes an absolute emergency.”

  Truman squinted at the mirror. “I can see prints on it. I’ll do what I can. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a match in the database.”

  I relaxed a little. “There’s one more thing.”

  Truman turned to look at me. “What have you got?”

  “I noticed a spot across from the café Dumpster. I have a weird hunch about it. Any chance you could check the splattered stuff on the wall to see if it’s blood?”

  “I’ll get someone right out there. You think you know who it belongs to?”

  I shrugged. “Might be Anna’s. She was found not far from there, though I guess she was strangled, right?”

  He nodded. “Right.”

  “Can you check it anyway? Who knows. Maybe it belongs to my reaper. We have no idea where he was murdered, or even how.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “Or maybe it’s chocolate ice cream on the wall and my hunches are no good. I don’t know.”

  Hector set his scalpel on the tray next to the body. “The how was pretty easy. Blunt-force trauma to the side of the head.”

  My stomach did a queasy flip at the thought of an autopsy on the body I’d found. At least the one in front of me was fresh. My stomach churned. That was worse, knowing the body had been a living, breathing person so recently. “Did you find out anything else about Pete when you did his autopsy?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing useful. He was a little iron deficient and, based on our measurements, he was probably wearing the wrong-size shoes.”

&nb
sp; I nodded. “You’re right. Not useful.” I turned to Truman. “Can you get a sample of whatever’s on that wall and check it to see if it’s a match, please?”

  “Leave it to me.” Truman patted me on the back, and I tried not to cringe at what might’ve been on his gloves. “I’ll get someone right on it.”

  I gave him a weak smile. “Thanks. I’d kind of like to get this solved before anyone else is hurt.”

  * * *

  Ash seemed to be feeling a bit better in the evening, so we walked to the café from the motel. She wasn’t exactly perky, but better. Whatever was bothering her was still there under the surface, but I had a feeling she was working through something. All I could do was be there for her when or if she needed me.

  Merle’s was smaller than I expected it to be. There were two rows of tables and a counter with stools bolted to the floor. The hostess station was empty when we walked in, as were nearly all the tables. A sign said Please Have a Seat.

  We chose a table close to the counter and did as the sign said. There weren’t any menus, so we sat and waited for someone to notice us. After a minute or so, someone did.

  “Welcome to Merle’s. My name is Penny.” A short woman with two dark braids sticking out from under her pink visor handed us a couple of menus. “Let me get you some water and time to decide. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  She was neither perky nor rude. To be fair, she looked tired, like maybe this was her ninth hour in an eight-hour shift. Having waited tables, I knew how much her feet and back probably hurt if that were true.

  Penny made her way to a table in the corner that had been vacated but still held dirty dishes. She piled the plates and glasses together and carried them into the kitchen, then returned to wipe away the crumbs and sticky spots. A second server, this one with red hair, came out with a tray of steaming food and took it to a young couple by the door. The man asked for ketchup, and she grabbed some off another table to give to him.

  Only two other tables had customers seated at them. Somewhere in back, dishes clinked and a grill sizzled.

  For being dinnertime, Merle’s was about as busy as a video rental store.

  Ash leaned forward, her voice nearly a whisper. “Are you sure about this? Maybe the locals know something we don’t.”

  “Bonnie says good things about the food here.” I opened my menu. “Trust me.”

  Ash scowled over her menu. “If I get food poisoning, you’re holding my hair for me.”

  “That’s fair.” I took a sip of water, mostly to prove to Ash that I wasn’t afraid, and turned my attention to the menu. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Hey, this is impressive.”

  The menu didn’t feature full-color snapshots of French toast or chicken fried steak. In fact, there were no photos at all. The menu was small, offering a few interesting appetizers like cheesy crab tots and shrimp ceviche eggrolls. Most of the entrées were some sort of seafood, including a smoked salmon pizza and ahi tuna sliders.

  This place should have been doing much better based on its menu. Or maybe they needed to serve more pancakes and mac and cheese in order to entice a bigger crowd to come taste the food.

  Penny came back to take our orders. I ordered chicken in brandy sauce, and Ash ordered the ahi sliders.

  “Good choices.” Penny wrote our order on a small pad. “I’ll take this right back to Merle and we’ll have it to you shortly.” Her face was pinched as if she were in pain, and I watched her limp into the kitchen.

  “Is she okay, do you think?” Ash had watched her, too. “She didn’t seem like she was doing so hot.” She scratched absently at the bandage around her wrist.

  “This whole place looks like it’s not doing so hot.” I eyed her wrist. “Did you put the coconut oil on it like I told you to do?”

  “This morning. But it’s itching again.”

  “The itching means it’s healing.” I smiled at her but otherwise left her alone. I wanted to baby her, but she had to move through this on her own.

  She rubbed the padding, her face thoughtful. “What if I’m wrong? What if my foster family is really worried about me?”

  “Is that what’s been bothering you? You’re worried about your family?”

  “They aren’t really my family. But yeah. They’re nice people. Just...too busy for a problem like me.”

  “Ah.” I moved my silverware aside and placed my napkin across my lap while I considered what to say. “Are you wanting to talk to them maybe? Check on them?”

  She traced her finger across the edge of the table. “Maybe. I don’t know if it’s a good idea or not. It could worry them worse. Or make them mad enough to try to find me when they hadn’t noticed before. I don’t know.”

  “I guess it’s a risk either way. Which way are you leaning?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m still thinking about it.”

  “Your birthday isn’t far off. You could always call them for that. Then there’s no point in sending someone after you, even if they are mad. And if they’re not angry, they’re just worried, they’ll appreciate the chance to wish you a happy birthday.”

  “That might be a way to go.” She looked doubtful, as if she’d already discarded the suggestion.

  I spotted Penny coming with our food. “If you decide to call and you want me to be there, let me know. Or I can leave the room. Whatever you need.”

  She nodded. “’Kay.”

  The food was gorgeous. The chicken was plated on a lattice of French green beans with an edible orchid as a garnish, and Ash’s sliders were served with a beautiful skewer of fresh fruit.

  “How’s everything look?” Penny stood waiting, her expression hopeful. “Can I get you anything?”

  I tasted the chicken and moaned. “Oh, that’s amazing.”

  “Mmff.” Ash nodded vigorously, her mouth too full to say anything else.

  “I’m so glad you like it.” Penny smoothed her hands over her pink apron and took a step away from the table.

  I waved her back while I swallowed my next bite. “Wait.” I took a sip of water. “Penny, I don’t understand.”

  “What?” Her brow wrinkled. “What’s wrong?”

  I shook my head. “Not a damn thing. That’s what’s wrong.” I held my hand out toward the rest of the restaurant. Only one other customer remained. “With food like this, why the hell is this place empty?”

  She sighed and sat in one of the spare chairs at our table. “It didn’t used to be like this. We used to be pretty busy most of the day.” She glanced out the window and made a face of disgust. “We had a great location, right next to the office park.”

  Ash swallowed a bite of fresh pineapple. “What happened?”

  “A few years ago, Merle’s wife passed away. It was a huge blow.”

  I set my fork down. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

  She nodded. “At the same time, the neighborhood started to go downhill. Merle still kept fighting, though. The café was all he had left to remind him of Elise. And then that happened.” She pointed out the window at the line of food trucks. “We lost all the office workers. Nobody’s coming across the street for a long lunch when they can get whatever slop they want in two minutes right in their own parking lot.”

  Ash and I exchanged a nervous look. Mentioning that we had a food truck probably wouldn’t earn us Penny’s friendship. She might spit in my banana cream pie. And who wanted that? I was really looking forward to that pie.

  “That’s a shame. It must be very hard.” I gave her a serious expression, as if I were scrutinizing her face. “Not too long ago, I was walking past this place and saw someone come out of the side door and give food to some homeless people. Was that you?”

  She blushed. “It might’ve been. Sometimes Laney does it.” She pointed toward the other waitr
ess, who was currently refilling the saltshakers. “Mostly it’s Merle, though. He started doing it a few months ago. Said the extra food shouldn’t go to waste.”

  “He sounds like a good person.”

  “Merle?” She chuckled. “He’s a cantankerous old fart. But yeah. He’s a good guy. Pretty much sold everything he has to keep this place going.” A shadow crossed her expression, and she looked away.

  I wiped my mouth and placed my napkin on the table. “Please tell Merle we loved it. Any chance we could chat with him?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. He just left. But I’ll be happy to tell him.” She grinned. “And he’ll be happy to hear it. You ready for that pie?”

  As much as I wanted that pie, I wanted to meet the owner even more.

  I had questions.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The walk back to the motel was slow and quiet. We were both full of good food, a little worn out from the long day and fully consumed by our own thoughts. I let us into the room, and we both collapsed on our beds.

  Ash let out an exaggerated sigh. “Life gets a lot easier once you hit adulthood, right?”

  I snorted. “Sure. At midnight on your eighteenth birthday, all your troubles fall away, and the world does exactly what you want it to do from then on.”

  “I thought so.” She put her hands behind her head and stared at the mildewed ceiling. “What about magic? Will I automatically know how to use it?”

  I scooted up the bed and propped pillows behind me against the headboard. “Yes and no. You’ll learn pretty quickly. But you won’t have a lot of magic to start with. It’ll have to charge. You’ll have a little, but not much.”

  She was quiet for a few minutes. I could almost hear the neurons firing in her brain while she thought about that. “How much?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Change an outfit. Find something that’s lost. Fix something that’s broken. That sort of thing. You’ll have to let it charge up for at least a few weeks before you can do anything too tricky. But everybody’s different. And to be honest, I’ve never been around someone with only one gem when they matured. We’ll just have to wait and see.”