Fowl Play

by RJ Blain

  I wasn’t sure I wanted to know why he knew so much about bodies.

  As though able to listen to my thoughts like Ma, he added, “I’ve done the violent crimes circuit a time or two, and it’s not uncommon in drug overdoses for it to take a few days for the victim to be found.”

  I swallowed several times before whispering, “I’m starting to think what happened in the pool yesterday wasn’t an accident, Kenneth.”

  “I’m starting to think you’re right.”

  Cathy and her unfortunate partner joined us, and when she caught sight of the body, she screamed.

  I needed a new life, a bottle of the hardest liquor I could get my hands on, and a vacation from my vacation.

  Chapter Seven

  A herd of police officers arrived within ten minutes, half of them beelined for the body while the rest went straight for Kenneth like a pack of vultures after an easy meal. Had I been wiser, I would’ve taken my chance to escape while I could.

  The lead vulture whipped out his badge and barked, “Chief Rochester. Are you Agent Bernard?”

  “I am. If you want to see my badge, I’ll need to go to my room.” I envied Kenneth’s pockets, which had enough room for his wallet and phone. He dug out his driver’s license and held it out for the officer’s inspection. “How can I help you?”

  “You’re on the case.”

  What the hell? So much for hoping for happy little accidents on the dance floor. At the rate we were going, we wouldn’t be doing any dancing at all.

  Kenneth sucked in a breath, his gaze locking on the woman’s body, which continued to spin in slow, gruesome circles. “What? Why? I’m in the narcotics department.”

  “Congratulations. You’ve been reassigned to murder investigations in Colorado until further notice.” The police chief grunted, turned to the body, and shook his head. “Yesterday’s death has been officially classified as a murder.”

  “And this case is being bumped to me why? Murder investigations are the domain of local law enforcement.”

  While tempted, I didn’t remind Kenneth local law enforcement could request an FBI agent at any time to aid with an investigation, especially if there was reason to believe the case would cross state lines or involve a Federal felony.

  “We’ll discuss this in private. You’ve been authorized to bring in one assistant for the duration of the investigation, as I’ve been notified you don’t have an active partner and have been working undercover for the past few months. It’s a special exemption, and your assistant will be paid a standard fee for the work.”

  Kenneth glanced at me. “Up for some paperwork and taking notes, Emma?”

  I bowed my head, sighed, and waved goodbye to my sane, quiet life. “Sure. Why not? It’s not like I had anything else to do this week.”

  He snorted. “I know that feeling. All right. We both need to get changed, then we’re going to need to be briefed. I’m also going to need to know who authorized the involvement of a civilian assistant, the court order allowing it, and appropriate waivers from the FBI.”

  “We’re drawing up the documentation you need, and you’ll have it within the next hour. We were going to wait until later this afternoon to involve you, but our timetable has been moved up. Paulson and Alwins? Go with them,” Chief Rochester ordered.

  A pair of cops overdue for retirement stepped forward and waited, offering Kenneth solemn nods. Officer Paulson had more gray in his hair than brown, and Officer Alwins seemed to have given up the war against his receding hairline with good cheer, polishing the bald top of his head to a shine.

  Kenneth gave me a gentle push in the general direction of the elevators. I dodged Cathy and her partner, eager to escape the crowd gawking at the deceased woman and the cops who’d already begun the process of pulling people aside to question them about the gruesome discovery. Accepting I wouldn’t be dancing would make the rest of the week easier to get through, although I’d be having a long talk with Kenneth about why he wanted me to help him.

  As far as he knew, I knew nothing about bodies, law enforcement, or anything he might view as useful. I wondered if Ma considered investigating a chain of suspicious deaths at a resort as a promotion.

  Angels cheated when they could, sneaking peeks into the inevitable future. Sometimes, they worked to ensure the future they wanted came to fruition. Other times, they watched the fireworks because mortals amused them.

  We made the trip to our room in silence, and both cops arched a brow when Kenneth unlocked the door.

  “Her room was double booked at the hotel, so I offered to share. Her father is an attorney I see often enough in court, so we’re acquainted.”

  The cops relaxed, and Office Paulson chuckled. “I’d wondered why you’d pick a civ for your assistant instead of calling in someone. An attorney’s daughter would know some of the tricks of the trade.”

  I was tempted to wield my JD as a weapon and beat some cops and an FBI agent with it.

  “I don’t know what self-deprecating thought is rattling around in your head, jail bird, but stop it,” Kenneth ordered. “And no, I didn’t pick you because of your mothers.”

  I bowed my head and groaned. “Why couldn’t you need help with a court transcription? I could do that.”

  “Jail bird?” Officer Alwins asked. “Wait. Mothers?”

  “My father’s a lycanthrope, mother number one is an angel, and mother number two is a succubus,” I explained. “He probably wants me to ask Ma to verify the truth so he doesn’t have to put up with a bunch of bureaucratic bullshit. He’s supposed to be on vacation.”

  “What can you tell me?” Kenneth asked, tossing his wallet and phone on the coffee table before heading towards his bedroom to change. I took the hint and headed for my bag, closing the door so I could put something on more appropriate for pretending I was qualified to help Kenneth do anything. Within five minutes, I’d changed into jeans and the nicest blouse I had with me, hoping it’d be acceptable.

  The cops were waiting in the living room, their attention glued to their smartphones. When Kenneth finally emerged, he was dressed in a suit and had a firearm holstered at his hip. I pointed at it and blurted, “How the hell did you get that on the plane?”

  “It went in my checked baggage. I might’ve been able to get a cabin carry permit, but they’re a pain in the ass to get on a good day.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Kenneth tossed me a notepad and a pen. “You get to take notes. Note who we talk to, why we’re talking to them, anything important they know, anything that stands out to you, and otherwise anything I tell you to write down. We’ll compare notes when we’re done and see if I we can figure out who is killing women. More importantly, we’ll try to figure out who might be the next victim, but I have a few ideas I don’t like.”

  “From what I’ve seen, they match my general description. But why would someone target women at a resort like this?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine right now. Please tell me this is a temporary position until someone with the right skillset comes in to replace me.” Kenneth stared at the cops, and they both shook their heads. “This is going to be a disaster. I’ve worked in violent crimes and narcotics. That does not make me qualified to handle what might turn out to be a serial killer.”

  “That’s what I said when I got promoted to detective,” Officer Alwins replied. “It’s nice to see the FBI chaps have the same issues we do.”

  Kenneth eyed his phone and dialed a number. “Hey, boss? I thought I was supposed to be on vacation.”

  I wished I could hear the other end of the conversation. Kenneth’s expression transformed from annoyed to incredulous, then he blurted, “Have you lost your mind?”

  I blinked, as did the cops.

  “Won’t he get fired for saying something like that to his boss? I would. I bet your chief would kick your asses if you took that tone with him. He looks like the ass-kicker type.”

  The cops nodded.

 
“Am I the only one who thinks this is an incredibly bad idea? Not just incredibly bad, it’s the dumbest damned thing I’ve heard of in my life. Are you trying to create a disaster?” Kenneth grunted and held the phone out to me. “Talk to him before I smash my phone, please.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m not talking to your boss!”

  “Talk to him. Please. Don’t make me beg.”

  Technically, he was already begging, but I let him get away with it, huffed, and snatched the cell out of his hand and put it to my ear. “Hello, Emma Sansaul speaking.”

  “Weston Harold. You’ve been recruited,” a deep voice informed me. I classified the bastard on the other end as overly smug and in dire need of an attitude adjustment.

  “Well, that was an incredibly stupid thing to do. I thought qualifications mattered in the FBI. I’m assuming I’m talking to someone in the FBI? Unless you need a ballerina, I don’t see how I am of any use to you.”

  “Let’s begin with your criminal law degree, Dr. Sansaul.”

  Crap. “What criminal law degree?” I asked, and had I been meeting with the man face-to-face, my ship would’ve been sunk, as I had an unfortunate tendency to look away from someone when trying to lie. I already regretted having agreed to sit through the bar exam and deal with all the damned paperwork and schooling to get my JD, something I refused to use and pretended didn’t exist whenever possible. The agreement had been in stone, and I’d used the loophole ruthlessly: I got the JD and maintained my license, and Dad wouldn’t complain about my dancing. No one said I had to practice law beyond the minimums to maintain my license, and I’d taken every dance and arts course I could get my greedy hands on while pursuing his dream job for me.

  I’d become the family pride and disappointment in one fell swoop, and true to our agreement, Dad didn’t complain I’d chosen to dance rather than join him in lawyering.

  “You have a criminal law degree?” Kenneth asked.

  Busted. I scowled at him and waved him off.

  “I have your license, issued in New York, sitting on my desk. You’re quite an intelligent individual, Ms. Sansaul, Esquire. It’s a shame such talent and education aren’t being used.”

  Which one of my parents would die first? Ma would pose the biggest challenge; the immortality thing put kinks in any plans to kill her off. I’d have to concoct a special hell for my father, who was the most likely culprit in this ploy aimed at involving me with the FBI. “I was arrested once, by Agent Bernard. That should disqualify me from any form of law enforcement.”

  It didn’t, especially as I’d been cleared of all charges without the incident being put on my permanent record.

  “You were an unwitting victim of a prank by one of your mothers, verified under oath by an angel. That doesn’t disqualify you.”

  Well, shit. Mr. Harold had done his homework, probably with some help from my traitorous parents. “How about the triple homicide of my parents? Would that disqualify me? If you could excuse me, I’ll go hunt the bastards down and start adding to the fucking bodies in this hotel!”

  Kenneth’s boss laughed at me. “That does fit well with your field of study. From my understanding, you have an interest in prosecuting murder cases. Partnering with Agent Bernard on a trial basis before attending proper training, scheduled to begin within a month upon signing of your hiring agreement, would be an excellent way to pursue those interests. Agent Bernard will need a partner in his new field and partnering him with a strong analytical thinker would be ideal. You’d also be able to advise him on legal matters to limit mistakes that might cost the prosecution.”

  “Do I look like I want this job?”

  “My opening offer is an eighty-three thousand a year, full health benefits, a flexible schedule to allow for you to continue dancing in some capacity, and any expanded education and training you require.”

  I froze. Eight-three thousand a year was far more than I made, and while I could’ve made more as an attorney following in my father’s footsteps, having a flexible schedule allowing me to dance would work well with my goal to escape my parents for good. “Define flexible.”

  “Unless you’re on an active case requiring time-sensitive action, you would be able to pursue your personal interests. It’s a benefit of specializing within the FBI. Of course, specialization within the violent crimes department isn’t without risks, especially as serial killers are a special breed of cat, but when an opportunity presents itself, it’s difficult to ignore it. Agent Bernard is wasted in narcotics, and with your physical conditioning and intellect, I think you’ll be a good match for him.”

  “Which one of my asshole parents put you up to this? I need to best decide how to start my career as a serial killer,” I hissed. Drawing a deep breath, I filled my lungs, held it until my chest burned, and exhaled in a long sigh. “I’d like to remind you I’m an infected lycanthrope. Doesn’t that disqualify me from work in law enforcement?”

  “No, it doesn’t. We have special exemptions for instances like this. Our file on you shows a low contagion risk, although I’ve been informed it’s probable you’ll infect Agent Bernard. With your slow development of a contagious virus, we’re unconcerned. It would take catastrophic injury likely resulting in death for there to be any significant risk of infection to the general public. As your virus levels mature, we may take steps to limit the chance of infection, but you’re not a predatory species.”

  Did Kenneth’s boss know nothing about swans? “No, we’re just grouchy and prone to attacking whatever moves because we’re assholes.”

  Instead of being properly concerned, he laughed again. “I’ve been briefed on the aggressive tendencies of swans. Please consider this as an opportunity to evaluate this as a potential career path. It took me all night to get the appropriate waivers and permissions to add you to this case as a civilian.”

  I bet my father had instructed Kenneth’s boss to use that line on me. “Tell me which one of my parents is behind this travesty so I can begin my career as a serial killer, and I’ll grudgingly accept your proposal. As my vacation is being ruined, I’ll expect compensation.”

  “How does a new vacation sound? I believe we can get an instructor of the appropriate qualifications to work with you and a partner for a week. I recommend Agent Bernard. He does have rudimentary dance training.”

  “Agent Bernard might be victim number four, as he’s considering accepting a dowry from Ma because he’s an insufferable asshole.”

  “The FBI offers complementary anger management courses. We also have couples therapy for those who have bypassed the fraternization rules.”

  “I’m not going to win this one, am I?”

  “I suspect not. I’d be foolish to let such an opportunity pass me by.”

  “I think it’s more foolish you’d want me in this capacity in the first place.”

  “Perhaps so, but I think I will come out ahead on this gamble. Are you in?”

  I sighed, cursed the day I’d wanted to go on a vacation, and shrugged. “Why the fuck not? I’ll be expecting a full list of those responsible for this idiocy so they can be properly disciplined.”

  “It would make me an accomplice if I listed them by name, but I will state there were three involved in your current situation. Do give Agent Bernard the happy news on my behalf.”

  Kenneth’s boss hung up, and I scowled, considering how best to deliver the so-called happy news. Shoving Kenneth’s phone directly up his ass would send a message, but I wanted my opening act of violence to be against my parents. I wasn’t sure which I’d target first.

  Ma held the top spot as my first victim, as I’d be able to wear myself out and work through my rage long before I subdued her enough to do any lasting harm to Mom or Dad. I grunted and offered Kenneth his phone. “Someone thought it would be a good idea to recommend me as a candidate for the FBI. It turns out this someone is actually three someones, and I’ll be starting my career as a serial killer with two counts of matricide and one cou
nt of patricide before I come after you for your unwitting involvement in this travesty.”

  “The first rule of becoming a serial killer involves not telling anyone you’re going to become a serial killer, jail bird. You have two police officers as witnesses now. That’s stupid.”

  “So is recruiting me for the FBI.”

  “He was really recruiting you?”

  “And he guilt tripped me, saying he’d been working all night to get the appropriate paperwork to bring me in on this case on a trial basis.”

  “You know what? I’m just not going to ask. We’ll deal with it later, after we figure out who is killing these women and why.”

  “Good plan. Hey, Kenneth?”

  “What?”

  “You’ll help me hide the bodies, right?”

  “Good lord, jail bird. Witnesses. You can’t ask these questions in front of witnesses.”

  “So you would, except I’d have to ask you when there aren’t witnesses? Because my parents need to die for this.”

  “One of your mothers is immortal, the other is a demon who’ll be difficult to kill on a good day, and your father’s a lycanthrope. I don’t think you’re going to have any bodies to bury without an intervention or a lot of help.”

  “Technically, an intervention is a lot of help.”

  “Just grab your purse and let’s get going. You’re not killing your parents.”

  “Today,” I corrected. “I’m not killing them today, as it seems I have more important things to do.”

  “You know what? I’ll take what I can get. We’ll renegotiate about the fate of your parents tomorrow.”

  The cops exchanged looks and burst into laughter.

  Chapter Eight

  I spotted Dad in the lobby, grabbed the strap of my purse, and went in for the kill. I caught him by surprise, my first blow smacking him in the back of his thick skull. My second caught him across the cheek and snapped his head to the side. “You!”