by Patti Larsen
The crash of Roxy’s mug on the floor jerked Kinsey out of her thoughts and made her heart skip a beat. Especially when she saw the look on the woman’s face.
“Murder?” Roxy’s hands clutched at her narrow chest. She hadn’t had the same surgery as Aisling, it appeared. Did she stuff her bras when she dressed up?
Only then did Kinsey kick herself, understanding dawning with a growing push of horror at her own thoughtlessness. “You didn’t know?” Nice going, Kinsey. Way to break the woman’s heart.
Roxy burst into a wail, sagging against the counter. “Aisling darling is dead? Murdered?” The woman began to fall to her knees. Kinsey ran for her, guided her back into the living room on the other side of the worn tile, carpet shuffling under her boots as she sat Roxy on the brown sofa. “It can’t be.” Roxy’s hand shook, huge tears filling her violet eyes as she clung to Kinsey. “What kind of monster would murder Aisling?” The woman fell against Kinsey, sobbing softly.
“I’m such a total jerk.” She swallowed past her sorrow for the woman. Woman? That term would have to do. What the hell was she thinking, just dumping this on Roxy? Kinsey was well aware there were times she didn’t think of other’s feelings, when she was known to blurt first and apologize later. But this was her biggest blunder ever. Nerdgirl social awkwardness? Check. “I’m so sorry.”
Roxy shook in Kinsey’s arms. “She was such a dear,” she whispered. “Always there for everyone. So kind and sweet.” She dabbed at her made-up eyes with the corner of her cuff, pink feathers wavering around her face from the hem of her collar, makeup still flawless. Kinsey wished she could look so good when she cried. Not a chance. Blotchy goodness with blood shot puffy for good measure. “Please, tell me you know who did this horrible thing.”
Kinsey shook her head. “We’re still looking,” she said. Where the hell was Gerri? Clearly, Kinsey was terrible at this kind of thing and needed to be relieved of her partner duties before she did something else even more stupid and thoughtless. “We wanted to ask you some questions.”
Roxy’s shock was so vivid, Kinsey flinched. She pulled away, hand on her chest, mouth open, eyes sparking with offense. “Surely you don’t think I killed my darling Aisling? How dare you!”
Kinsey actually gulped.
“Oh, give it a rest, Roxy.” Gerri slammed the door behind her. Kinsey let out a quick breath in relief the redhead was here to save her from having to apologize further. “We both know you hated her guts. Drop the act and tell me why I shouldn’t haul your ass down to the precinct and see what the guys in the cell block think of your pretty outfit.”
Roxy’s transformation made Kinsey feel like a total idiot. She went from hurt and sobbing to pissed off with a dose of bitter in about half a second flat. The small woman pulled away, adjusting her robe over her lap, but not before Kinsey got a good look at what rested between her legs.
It wasn’t until that moment she realized she was a prude.
“Whatever.” Roxy crossed her arms over her chest, one leg crossed over the other, foot bobbing in agitation as she tossed her head. “That little spotlight-stealing bitch got what she deserved, you ask me.” She glanced sideways at Kinsey who stared, a little hurt by the deception, though she knew better than to let it get to her. Roxy patted her knee, nails scratching over the denim of Kinsey’s jeans. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said. “You were supposed to fall for that. I’m a professional.” She arched one perfect eyebrow at Gerri who waited with obvious impatience for Roxy to get to the point. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” She tossed her hands in the air, her blonde mane bouncing. “Why would I kill her?” A sly smile appeared as she winked at Kinsey. “I was having far more fun humiliating her ugly ass every day. Murdering her would ruin my fun.”
Kinsey pushed off from the couch, no longer able to keep herself in one place. Embarrassed by her lack of savvy, she slipped around the back of the sofa and faced the window, not wanting Gerri to see the blush of humiliation on her face. She trusted Kinsey enough to be here and she fell for a giant lie the first go around. She hadn’t even thought to test the weird ability she thought she had, to try to push Roxy into telling her the truth instead of plunging headfirst into the first story she was told. Useless.
Time to do what Gerri really brought her here to accomplish.
Weird. Focus on weird. It was all Kinsey was good for.
“Tell me about the trouble Aisling had last year.” Gerri’s voice carried easily through the small apartment. Kinsey glanced sideways at the couch where Roxy still sat, agitated and obnoxious.
“She asked for it,” Roxy said. Kinsey peeked past a half-open door into the bedroom. A giant, red satin comforter covered the king-sized bed, a canopy of matching colored gauze hanging from a lattice attached to the ceiling. Ugly, but not weird. She almost giggled when her mind said, “So there, bitch.”
“Just tell me who was bothering her.” Gerri sounded bored and at first, Kinsey was a little surprised. This was her job. Surely she was taking it seriously. Until she saw the cock to Gerri’s hip, the way her green eyes roved the apartment. Just an affectation, then. Kinsey had so much to learn. Really, this was turning fascinating again, now she’d lost her embarrassment. She stopped in place, next to a small desk tucked in the far corner of the living space, to watch her friend in action.
“Some biker gang.” Kinsey almost squealed in response to Roxy’s answer. The police report from LA! So Ron was right. Part of her thought she’d be bummed—not just because the paranormal connection wasn’t there after all, but because they’d found the murderer so soon. Kinsey sighed and looked down at the desk as her fingers brushed over something firm while Gerri spoke.
“Anyone in particular, or the whole gang?” Kinsey’s fingers ran over the cover of a plain, black Bible before she looked up to meet Gerri’s quiet eyes. Was Kinsey missing something again?
“One guy took a specific interest.” Roxy shrugged her thin shoulders, toying with a lock of her long hair. “Named Oz. That’s all I know.”
Kinsey lifted the Bible into her hands. The script was wrong, a different kind of type than she associated with a King James’s version. When she held it up, turning to Roxy, the woman caught sight of it and laughed like it was funny.
“Don’t get any ideas, princess,” Roxy said, voice altering from her alto sultry to a sharp-edged contralto that sounded suddenly masculine for a moment. She cleared her throat before going on, resuming her carefully cultured speech. Kinsey’s discomfort at the break in Roxy’s façade made her feel guilty. “The local thumper left that behind the last time he paid a visit.” She laughed again, an ugly sound. “The only time.” She licked her lips, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “Get my drift?”
Kinsey blushed all over again. She could only imagine what someone like Roxy would do to scare off a minister. Not a priest, not from the edition she held. The Catholic Church used a specific version of the Bible. This one looked… off. Kinsey just couldn’t put her finger on why.
“What’s his name?” Gerri’s pen waited for Roxy to speak.
“How should I know?” The dancer’s anger flashed in her face. “I kicked his ass out the second I realized he was here to save my soul and not keep me warm.” Another nasty laugh. “Just ask around. He’s been hanging out in the community lately, trying to heal the heathens or some other shit.”
“Can we take the Bible with us?” The words were out of Kinsey’s mouth before she could think twice about it. More of a curiosity to her. Weird, but from a professional standpoint. Gerri met Kinsey’s eyes again, with interest. Kinsey tucked the heavy book against her ribs, crossing to stand next to Gerri. Roxy shrugged again, sighing deeply, with drama.
“Be my guest.” She stood abruptly and waved toward the door, a bit of feather drifting in pink magnificence from the front of her robe. “Religion never did a damn thing to me but fuck me up. And not in a good way.” Her whole face twitched, as if in memory, before she fixed Gerri with a baleful glare. “Now, if
you don’t mind. I have to get my beauty sleep.”
Who slept in the afternoon? Kinsey turned to say goodbye as she and Gerri crossed into the hall, only to have Roxy slam the door in her face. Hurt again, blushing and hating that she was blushing, she held the Bible out to Gerri. Clearly this wasn’t her thing and her friend’s trust in her was so far misplaced it might as well have been in another county.
But Gerri was smiling at her, waved her off. “Weird?”
Kinsey shrugged. “Just to me.” She lowered her hand. “I doubt it has anything to do with the case.”
“Check into it anyway,” Gerri said. “Let me know if there’s more weird to be had.”
“Ger.” Kinsey stopped Gerri from walking way with her nickname. “I’m sorry. I really fell for it.”
The tall redhead shrugged, hands in her pockets, casual and forgiving. “Rookie mistake,” she said. “You’ll get the hang of it.”
As Kinsey followed Gerri out of the building, she processed what the redhead said. And her heart leaped. Get the hang of it? That meant…
She’d be doing this again. Completely forgetting in her excitement to ask Gerri who was on the phone.
***
INT. – 9th PRECINCT BULLPEN - AFTERNOON
Gerri dropped her dress jacket on the back of her office chair, the bustle of activity in the bullpen just background noise to her as her mind spun around the case, seeking out angles. She still had a few leads to chase down and, from the thick file of photos on her desk, the images from the scene came back for her to take a look at.
It distracted her from the phone call she’d fielded outside Roxy’s door. A call she didn’t want to think about.
“Gerri.” Ray sounded upset. “You have to see this.”
“See what?” She let Kinsey take on the queen, knowing her innocent friend would get played. Felt a bit guilty about it, but Kinsey’s fresh face would soften up Roxy and keep her off balance for when Gerri hit her with the big guns.
“It’s the body.” Ray actually sounded like she was going to hyperventilate. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Just come down to the morgue.”
“I’m talking to a suspect, Ray. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Just the tone of the medical examiner’s words made Gerri shy from following through. Because, Ray didn’t panic. Ray didn’t overreact. Ray was a pro, and nothing shook her.
Nothing but the weird. And as much as she knew it made her a coward, Gerri wasn’t ready to face it just yet.
She glanced up before she had the chance even to sit down, startled, to find Jackson standing next to her. Smirking at her. She didn’t have time to wonder what the bastard’s smug expression was all about before the wide shoulders of her captain appeared framed—barely—in the doorway of his office.
“Meyers!” Burly, a former football defensive lineman and all around hard ass, the dark skinned Captain Dominic King knew how to get attention with his booming voice. Gerri winced inwardly, spine straightening unconsciously. Her father taught her to respect authority and damn it, he’d done a good job. “Pierce! Get in here.”
There were enough glances of apprehension and grins of mockery from the other detectives in the bullpen Gerri knew something big was up. She had, as of yet, to get on the captain’s good side. Or even discover if he had a good side. Almost eight weeks into her new job on his homicide squad and she barely knew the man beyond his booming voice and rock-like glare if something went wrong. The only softness she’d seen from him was the briefest of sadness over the loss of her partner. One of the unis told her later Captain King and Joe had been beat cops together, once upon a time.
Still, he was a solid cop with an excellent record and ran a tight station. She liked that, respected it more than the swagger in Jackson’s walk or the size of his gun. Gerri privately wished she didn’t care so much if the captain liked her. This wasn’t some awards show. But, her father’s influence was a hard habit to shake from her shoulders.
Right now, all she cared about was what was up the captain’s butt. One final glance at Jackson told her this new partner of hers was going to be more trouble than he was worth and was probably the source of her summons to the captain’s office.
She’d find a place to dump the body where no one would ever find him.
Her own shoulders back, doing her best strut of confidence across the hardwood floor, Gerri edged out Jackson’s long-legged stride just enough she beat him inside. A small victory, but one she cherished. She was the lead detective, damn it. And if she had to humiliate Pierce in front of her captain to get the punk to see it, she would.
Popularity contests didn’t solve murder cases.
Captain King loomed behind his desk, so big he made the heavy wooden furniture look like it belonged in a doll house. His chair creaked under him, white dress shirt straining across his wide chest, black eyes shining with barely-suppressed irritation as he glared at the two of them. “Close the damned door and sit.”
Gerri calmly took the first chair, an old-fashioned wooden one with rounded arms and a firm seat. That, of course, left Jackson to do as he was told. She didn’t miss the flicker of the captain’s gaze to her as her partner turned and almost—but not quite—slammed the smoked-glass entry before clomping his way in his fancy dress shoes to the second chair. It squealed softly under him as he sat, the exact reason Gerri picked this one. She almost grinned, remembering Joe’s reaction to her startled first sit down and wondered if the gleam in the captain’s eye was humor or more annoyance.
Jackson’s hesitation to settle mirrored her first experience, but the captain was already speaking through the final metal squeak. Gerri caught her partner’s wince and knew her lip twitched. She just couldn’t help it.
Fortunately, the captain was looking down and missed it. “Tell me why, Detective Meyers,” he said her name like gravel being rolled around in a steel barrel, “there is a civilian investigating one of my murders.”
Considering she was the one doing all the work… Gerri held her temper. She understood this world, the challenges in it. Knew it long before she chose to become a cop. Her father warned her, didn’t he? Trained her to take it, even if only on the outside while the inside ran to catch up. It wasn’t for those who couldn’t take the pressure.
“If you’re referring to Dr. Kinsey DanAllart,” Gerri said, cool and professional, focused completely on the captain, “please note the request form I filed with the commissioner’s office, approved three days before this murder took place. It should be official record by now.” She didn’t bother looking sideways at Jackson. But he had to be pissed he’d missed it. What, did he think she was a total idiot? Of course she had permission from the highest authority she could muster.
There was no way she would purposely piss off her boss a mere two months into a job she loved.
The captain looked up, eyes narrowing. His dark brow furrowed, making black lines in his deep complexion. “You may have permission from One Hundred P.P., Detective,” he said, “but you didn’t ask for mine.” And yet, there was a softening in his tone, a respect, even. At least, that was how Gerri read him. For the first time, she felt her insides relax in his presence, instincts uncoiling and sighing out a clenched breath of relief. They might not be besties, but she had her boss’s attention.
From the way Jackson shuffled his feet next to her, the backstabbing asshole guessed the same. And that his own star was rapidly crashing to the ground. She’d trample it soon enough. After he suffered some.
“Captain,” he said, protest clear in the faint whine behind his voice. “We can’t just let civvies have the run of crime scenes.”
Captain King’s giant head snapped around, thick lips tight. Gerri was glad that scowl was aimed at Jackson. Her father was the master of the cop glare, Dutch’s angry stare legendary in their neighborhood. She almost grinned, wondered then if the captain was a soft and squishy teddy bear under that veneer, just like her dad. Enjoyment replaced nerves as Jackson shifted again. Served
him right for being an asshole. “Since this was your initial protest, Detective,” he stressed the word with a rumbling purr of anger, “it was up to you to confirm Dr. DanAllart was, in fact, not approved for consult duty.” Jackson shifted again, drew a breath, but the captain cut him off by slamming shut the file in front of him. His big head swiveled on an impossibly thick neck, gaze all over Gerri again. “Tell me about her.”
Gerri sat up a little straighter. While she had gone through the proper channels, her captain was right. He could kybosh Kinsey’s ability to assist. And since Gerri needed her for the weird ones—let there only be one or two, please—she knew what she said next was important.
For her own sanity.
“Dr. DanAllart is a cultural anthropologist with a secondary specialty in symbology at Silver City University.” Gerri felt like she was being tested, as the captain’s blank expression gave her nothing. So much for images of teddy bears. But, her father’s voice was in her heart as she went on, confident in her ability and in Kinsey. “Her specialty is occult and religious dogma applied to societal evolution.” Not that she knew what the terms really meant. She took them from the college website. But it sounded good. Gerri gestured at the file on his desk. “Considering the nature of the murder, I thought it wise to ask Dr. DanAllart to assist in identifying the symbols to see if, in fact, they were merely an attempt by the murderer to distract us from the facts or part of some ritual we need to understand.”
The captain’s short nod relieved the pressure inside her. Gerri didn’t realize until he gave his faint approval just how wound up she was. “Has the doctor been helpful thus far?”
“She has.” Gerri spoke up again before Jackson could interrupt. “In fact, she’s identified a connection between one of the symbols and a biker gang out of LA that may have fresh ties in Silver City.”