by Claire Kane
Her dead ex-boyfriend eyed her with a brow raised.
Victor, please don’t dive into my mind right now. I’ll spare you the details. We didn’t kiss, okay? Victor turned away, but she still felt his frown.
Sketching some notes, the doctor said, “I’d be concerned more about your former employer than your coworker. Your description of the effect of the perfume exactly matches the effects associated with opium. However, in regards to your symptoms this morning—eating opium, even deadly amounts, wouldn’t leave you sick without at least a temporary high.”
Lacey accepted the fact. He was the expert. “I shouldn’t have thought of Deborah. Being sick like this can make you have weird thoughts, though…”
“And it’s quite possible the drugs in your system may have placed you in an immunocompromised state that left you more susceptible than normal to disease.” He shook his head. “Your bloodwork shows you’re fighting an infection. We’ll need to do more labs to rule out a few more things. Before I do, is there anything else you think I should know? I’m here to help.”
She thought of the parakeets, the stench, the dust, their gooey eyes. A dark warehouse was no place to pack birds. They looked sick. She’d heard of bird flus; could it be? She divulged. The physician nodded thoughtfully, and said he’d consider avian-borne illnesses in his research. With a few notes, he bid Lacey farewell, and left.
*
Results came back sooner than expected. Lacey was on her second IV bag, with a medicine drip of some kind, her lungs feeling a bit weak. Dr. Spellman gave her the news that she indeed had contracted an infection from birds: Psittacosis, or in layman terms, Parrot Fever.
“We’re going to give you Doxycycline, an antibiotic. You should start feeling better in forty-eight hours.”
“Is that when I’ll be discharged?”
“Yes,” Dr. Spellman said, smiling, “you should be well enough to return home by then.”
Lacey grimaced. “I can’t leave my grandmother alone that long. Where will she go?”
The older man nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll arrange care with a nursing home, unless you have any emergency contacts you’d prefer to use.”
Lacey sighed. “My parents live in Oklahoma.” She thought of people from KZTB. It was hard to trust mere coworkers or acquaintances, at such a time, and she didn’t want to impose on Cathy, either. Too weak and exhausted to feel anger rise within, however, her head flopped to the left, against her pillow, toward Victor. He had a look of fiery revenge in his translucent blue eyes. “There’s no one else.” She looked at her physician. “Nainai is old and not doing well. Please make sure she has a comfortable home until I can take care of her again.”
Dr. Spellman assented, and turned to discuss things with a nurse who had just entered. Lacey turned her thoughts to Victor, who was pacing again. What are you thinking? she asked him.
His jaw clenched, he chose to speak with his mind too. About what I’d do to your old boss if I were alive.
She knew what that meant. You’d beat him up?
Well, maybe that too. He crossed his arms, perking up one brow.
What else do you mean, then?
I’d take Greg Mendoza, the man, down. I’d strip him of all his things. His job, his title, his illegal games and fortunes, his home, his wife—if he even really has one—get him arrested, and have him rot in jail.
Lacey coughed. She covered it with a fist, even though Victor couldn’t feel nor contract a thing. You’re getting distracted. We’re supposed to be finding your murderer, and take them down, remember?
Victor shook his head at her with a smile that said, “You don’t get it, do you?”
“What?” Lacey asked him out loud.
A nurse took Lacey’s right arm, rubbing the inside of the elbow with alcohol. “Make a fist,” she interrupted, eyeing Lacey dubiously.
Lacey complied, then returned her attention to Victor. She didn’t even feel the sting of the antibiotic being administered. What don’t I get?
“Oh, Lacey,” Victor said vocally, kneeling at her bedside. “This is tearing me up inside.”
Lacey frowned. What is? Just tell me already.
He leaned in, his face so close that she should still make out the little golden flecks in his eyes, despite his translucence. For a second, she wondered whether he was going to try kissing her. For another second, she wondered whether she would have welcomed it, had she not been feeling like death herself. But he didn’t, and the moment passed.
Victor stood and resumed his pacing. “Here you are sick, or worse, and I can’t do a thing about it.” He paused, as if realizing something momentous.
Lacey almost thought she saw him trembling as he slowly turned large eyes on her. “What?”
“I just realized, if you ever end up in a scrape, there’s really nothing I can do to save you. I can’t even touch you.” Just to prove a point, he strode to the bed and passed his hand back and forth through hers several times.
While Lacey still felt fluctuations of warmth it was, indeed, very obvious that he couldn’t truly touch her.
“Don’t ever do anything stupid, Lacey. Don’t put yourself in danger. Promise me that.”
Lacey rolled her eyes, and moaned at the small wave of pain that rippled up through her stomach. “You worry too much, Victor,” she muttered, earning another curious look from the nurse. Then, in her head she added, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself just fine.
It was Victor’s turn to frown. “I already told you I’m not just hanging around Earth to nab the killer. I’m here to be with you. To protect you as best I can, even if that’s not much.” He growled. “I couldn’t even protect you when Greg drugged you. Those… things were everywhere. I just can’t handle Legion. The demons. But I can’t leave you, either, Lacey. I can’t let go…”
He sighed deeply, and buried his face in his hand for a beat, then he locked eyes with her again. The nurse and doctor finally left the room, but Lacey didn’t watch them go. Instead, she watched Victor, remembering how close they once were.
“I never got the chance to propose,” he said, “but my feelings for you will never die. I’m sticking around.”
Lacey felt a flutter in her heart, but didn’t let it show in her eyes. She knew she and Victor wouldn’t have made a good pair, but to know that his devotions had survived death moved her deeply. She had to admit she’d be hard pressed to find another guy who she was sure would feel that way about her. “I promise I’ll be careful, Victor. Let’s just get me through this, and we’ll take things one day at a time. Okay?”
Victor gazed evenly at her for a long moment, then finally nodded. “Okay. I love you, Lacey Ling. Heaven knows my heart.”
She swallowed hard, knowing what he expected her to say, wishing she could honestly say it. She could see that he knew it too, but he was willing to meet her where she stood. Her eyes welled up with tears. She smiled through it, through all her pain, thinking for a moment that Nainai was right. Victor St. John was marriage material, after all.
Bursting the moment, he asked a chilling question. “What if Greg Mendoza is my killer?”
NINETEEN
The next two days passed with a strained slowness. Feeling trapped in her hospital room, Lacey argued with her doctor about an early discharge; the symptoms that had raked her guts the morning after Deborah’s visit had cleared up very quickly. Dr. Spellman insisted that she needed to be contained, to prevent spreading the disease, and said that her bloodwork was still showing enough of the wrong signs. In the end, Lacey relented, and spent her days either talking to Victor (who found he could hole up in the hospital’s chapel at nights) or mindlessly watching TV when he got too annoying.
The bright side was that she and Victor had plenty of time to discuss the possibilities of who may have offed him. Victor was reticent to leave Lacey at all, however, and though she insisted he go trail Greg during the day, Victor was equally insistent that he remain with Lacey and keep her company thr
ough the dragging hours of boredom not soothed by daytime drama.
Still there were problems with suspecting Greg. Evidence pointed to him having been in the US when Victor died; were that true, then the only way Greg could have been involved would be to place a hit for Victor.
“But why would he do that?” Victor asked for the thousandth time, insinuating himself between Lacey and the drone of the television. “He didn’t even know me.”
Lacey rolled her eyes. “How should I know? I don’t know how men think. You do. So… think. Consider again what made you suspect him in the first place, and let’s attach a motivation to the murder.”
“He gives off bad vibes, for one. For two, he is linked to both Japan and the Seattle area. And now I know he drugged you. Some dude broke into my apartment the night I was killed. It all went so fast. I-I couldn’t recognize him. All I know is he was dressed in black. Maybe it was him or a hitman, maybe?”
Lacey nodded in agreement. “Okay. So the motivation could be?”
Victor shook his head. “Rivalry would be a possibility, but I was never really rivals with him.”
“Except,” Lacey interjected, “he might have a thing for me. Isn’t that enough to get you males riled up and bashing one another’s skulls in?”
Her dead ex huffed. “C’mon, Lacey. We’re not that primitive. Though, I could see myself bashing his skull in if he tried something on you.”
“Well,” Lacey said carefully.
Victor flashed to her bedside, and peered at her with narrowed eyes. “I can already hear what you’re thinking. And no, it’s not a good idea.”
Lacey pouted. “At least let me say it out loud.”
Victor threw a hand up. “Fine.”
Lacey’s face screwed up in thought. “It’s pretty obvious Greg does has a thing for me.”
Victor muttered something like, “…break his fingers…”
“While I doubt he’d out himself as your killer, if he is, if I could get him to talk, I may be able to piece together enough clues to nail him—since you’re so unwilling to just read his mind.”
“I tried that once,” Victor said, absently. “It was when we were in the helicopter with him, a few days back. I found I didn’t want to stay; I’ve never been into the whole porn thing. And reading his mind may as well have been reading a Playboy magazine.”
Lacey blanched. “That doesn’t help, Victor.”
He shrugged. “Full disclosure, babe. I’m more transparent than ever, these days.”
She rolled her eyes. “At least dying hasn’t murdered your sense of humor.”
“Booo,” he said. “Hey, look. I just said that. As a ghost.”
“Can we cut the terrible jokes for a minute? I’m trying to think here, and trying to help you.”
“Fine, fine.”
Lacey pursed her lips in thought. “I’ll meet up with Greg to see what information I can glean from him. I don’t think it should be too hard if I take things to the next level, by pretending to be interested in him. But if he tries to use that perfume on me again…”
Victor nodded solemnly. “You’re not sure you’ll be pretending anymore.”
Lacey shivered. “I promise I didn’t kiss him, Victor.”
He placed a hand gently on her shoulder. “I know. But even if you had, I would blame him for drugging you. I know you wouldn’t do that in your right mind.”
Lacey smiled up at him. “Thank you, Victor. For your faith in me.”
He smiled back. After a pause, he leaned forward. Lacey’s eyes grew wide as he continued to close in. “What are you doing, Victor?”
He smiled gently, and closed his eyes. “Just humor me.”
Lacey made to speak again, but she felt the warmth of ghostly lips against hers. The sensation was both weird and wonderful, but despite her initial misgivings, she felt neither violated nor weirded out. It certainly wasn’t like a real kiss, but the emotion behind it was as real as she’d ever known. And so she flowed with it, for a few seconds, letting his incorporeal lips caress hers, and remembering how it had felt back when they’d been dating. When he broke the kiss, Lacey found she’d actually been holding her breath.
Victor pulled back, smiling. His smile quickly faded, though, and Lacey felt her heart sink a little. “I’m sorry, Lacey. I shouldn’t have done that.”
No, you idiot, she screamed in her mind. Don’t ever tell a girl something like that.
Victor’s eyebrow’s bunched. “Why not?”
Lacey stopped mid-word, then recovered. “It’s so unfair you can read my mind. But since you can, then you should already know the answer to your own question.”
He thought about it for a few moments, gently probing Lacey’s mind—with her permission—until at last, the light bulb went on. “Ah. I see. Look, I don’t regret the kiss. Not at all. I regret that I can’t give you the real deal. I’m not going to lead you on.”
Lacey pouted. “Then why’d you do it in the first place?”
An impish smile crossed his face. “You know you enjoyed it too.”
Her frown deepened, then she smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. But let’s focus. I get out of here tomorrow, and I don’t want to wait on this.
“I’m going to bite the bullet and use myself as bait for Greg. As soon as we figure things out, one way or the other, I’ll drop him like a hot potato, even if I have to use the ‘crazy chick that can’t make up her mind’ act. He’d buy that, I’m sure.”
Victor again nodded thoughtfully. “I really don’t like it, but I’m not going to talk you out of it, am I?”
Lacey rolled onto her side and took a sip of the juice on the food stand at her bedside. “Please don’t try. I’m already doing it for you.”
Victor acquiesced reluctantly, and the two finalized the details. Eighteen hours and a lot of paperwork later, Lacey Ling was a free woman again. With Victor at her side, she readied herself for battle.
TWENTY
“I think I have just the weapon to protect myself,” Lacey said standing on her bare tiptoes. She was in her grand walk-in closet in the master suite of her luxury apartment, and pulled down one of the many shoeboxes stacked on the highest shelf.
“You’re going to show me some new kicks?” Victor mused. “I know you like heels, but I doubt the effectiveness of even the sharpest stiletto at fending off a psycho.”
Lacey shook her head, and simply lifted the lid, revealing a shiny pistol.
“You’ve been packing heat all this time I knew you, and I had no idea?” Victor stepped back with drama. “That’s a bit surprising.”
Lacey rolled her eyes. “Have I told you nothing of my family? My father?”
Victor replied, “Oh, I’ve heard plenty about Butch. The day you dumped me. Remember? ‘You remind me so much of him.’”
“No,” Lacey said, walking right through him, carrying the shoebox gingerly to her bed. “I didn’t say you remind me of him. Dad is a redneck, taught me how to hunt; bought me my first gun when I was nine. In all those ways, you are not like him.”
“Okay? Then what did you mean?”
“I was saying our relationship was like my mom and dad’s. They’re so different from each other. We’re so different. It worked for them, but I envisioned something else for my someday marriage.”
“Gotcha,” Victor said, disappointed. “So you… are trained with that thing, huh?”
“Yes,” she said. “I always felt safe enough on my own, so I never had it at my bedside. But,” she said, grasping it by the handle, and looking at it solemnly from all angles, “things have changed.”
“Well, if you’re sure you can handle that—”
Lacey gave Victor a steely look of strength that shut him down. “I’ve got this.” She lifted a leg, pulling up the hem of her red dress to reveal a thigh strap.
“That’s… hot.” His eyes lingered a little too long. He cleared his throat, snapping out of it. “Did your dad teach you that too?”
Lacey smacked at
him, of course hitting nothing but air. “It’s called a leg holster. And, no, the NRA did.”
“I didn’t know you vote Republican,” he said. “There’s something we have in common!”
“Geez, Victor!” She smiled. “Can we get serious, here, a moment?”
“I was!” He threw his hands up.
“Anyway, here’s the plan, to recap…” She stood, pulling down her dress to her knees. “I’m meeting up with Greg at a neutral location, somewhere definitely safer than the warehouse. I’ll still have my trusty sidearm on me just in case anything goes awry. The mission: to put my stuff to the test, see how well I can do with interrogating under a visage of innocence. I’ll see if I can get him to divulge his feelings about you. I’ll also test what his real interest in me is, which will let me know if I’m safe with him, so I can take my investigating to the next level. It will be just a couple hours, and so I’ll be back in time to tuck my grandmother in bed without any hiccups.”
Victor gave her a dubious look, but she ignored it and slid some black heels on, her hair cascading over her shoulders as she did so.
He sighed. “I just wish you were ready for a date with me tonight, rather than him.”
“It’s not a date,” she said, and snatched up a clutch purse. “It’s business.”
*
Upon trailing Lacey and Greg into the restaurant, all Victor could think was This definitely doesn’t look business-y. Their destination was dimly lit in pale pink and orange hues by sconce lights artfully set between heavily draped windows. At only 8:00 p.m., it successfully gave a romantic ambiance of late evening. Tables were adorned by rich golden cloths. Chairs were upholstered in red velvet. Even the rug swirled with elegant patterns. It made sense now why Lacey was dressed to the nines. Every adult guest, as there were no children, was groomed like they were going to grown-ups’ prom.