by Meg Ripley
“Based on what you saw of the body, how do you think he died?” Tandy asked.
Jason shifted his attention from the beer to the scale and the way it reflected the bar’s dull light. “Burned. Cooked to a crisp all the way through.”
“But not eaten or otherwise harmed.”
“Did you ask Mary if anything was missing from the house?” Jason asked.
“We haven’t had the chance to take her back to the house yet.”
“Somebody tossed his bedroom.”
“And I suppose you got your DNA and fingerprints all over the room trying to figure out what they were looking for?” Tandy asked, though he only sounded mildly annoyed.
“I didn’t touch anything,” Jason said quickly. “I just looked at it from the doorway, but somebody was clearly up there. His master suite was part of the big house tour and he kept the place impeccable.”
“I suppose money could have been the motive. Rich old guy in a big old house like that? He’d definitely have some valuable items.”
Jason shook his head. He wasn’t so sure about that. “I have a feeling that Neil tended to cherish things for their sentimental value, not their monetary worth. Plus, he really wasn’t rich.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“That’s the point. He fooled everybody, but I guess he spent all of his money a long time ago.”
“So, nobody stood to inherit from his death?”
“No. Mary is the trustee for her mother’s estate and I guess her father’s estate was all dried up.”
“How do you know that?”
“I was looking to get into business with Neil. That’s how we met. I discovered recently he didn’t have any money to invest.”
Tandy looked at him thoughtfully. “Perhaps you weren’t the only one to make that discovery recently. Maybe this wasn’t about an inheritance, just good old fashioned rage.”
Jason almost caught himself shaking his head, but stopped himself from giving voice to his immediate thought of No, Vincent doesn’t need the money. Did he really think Vincent was capable of murder, let alone guilty of the crime? Vincent was intense and arrogant, but he wasn’t a psychopath. And besides being a psychopath, what motive would he have to kill not only Neil, but innocent bystanders as well?
“I think I should talk to this Vincent.”
“Let me talk to him,” Jason quickly countered, speaking before he realized he even had the idea.
“What?”
“I can wear a wire or something and I’ll talk to him.”
Tandy stared at him for a beat before asking, “What do you think this is? A TV show? CSI or some shit? I’m not going to send you in with a wire, I just want to talk to the man.”
“If you speak with him, he’ll run.”
Tandy’s eyes narrowed. “Mr. Cross, do you know something you’re not telling me? I thought we were friends.”
“I told you everything I know. I’ll also tell you that the man can disappear at will. He’s a dragon. He can fly away. He has amassed endless wealth, he has connections all over the globe, and if he is guilty, you’ll never find him. But if I talk to him, I’m just his buddy bitching about losing an investor.”
“Well, you won’t need to wear a wire. We have telephones now. How soon will you be able to see him?”
“There’s nothing keeping me here. I’ll go home tonight and see him tomorrow.”
“Are you going to be flying home?”
“I try not to do that in public. Too risky.”
“Why did you risk it tonight?”
Jason swallowed the last of his beer. “You are a good detective.”
“I’m no Sherlock Holmes, I just noticed that your car was abandoned right outside the city. Seems like you traveled over a hundred miles in less than twenty minutes somehow.”
“Is that why you believe me?”
“I don’t actually believe you, Jason, but you’re the only lead I’ve got. I just pray that I’m not wasting my time.” He produced his wallet from his jacket, tossed a couple of bills between them, and handed Jason his business card. “Go home. Get some sleep. Call me tomorrow and we’ll work out the plan. I will have very specific guidelines that I will expect you to follow. Also, if you chicken out, I’m going to be really disappointed.”
“I won’t chicken out,” Jason promised, though he was already feeling a peculiar dread, a sense of guilt he always associated with disappointing his father. Speaking to the police was one nearly unforgivable thing, but what would the senior Cross say when he learned his son assisted in gathering evidence against another dragon?
****
By the time Jason returned to the city, he was too exhausted to function and too wired to sleep. He kept thinking about the fight with Mary, and when he wasn’t dwelling over her, he was brooding over Vincent, over his father, and over the horrific crime scene that still lingered behind his eyelids. He saw the splashes of blood every time he closed his eyes, which made slumber completely impossible.
Eventually, his body surrendered to exhaustion, but when he woke, he was far from refreshed. The booze caught up with him and he remembered with a sigh the burger he had stashed away instead of eating. His stomach roiled, though he had nothing to throw up, and his head pounded, and when he checked his phone, he had a message from a number he didn’t recognize.
“This is Detective Tandy,” the message started, each word clipped and rather unpleasant. “Call me as soon as you get this. We need to talk.”
Jason did not want to talk to him. He wished he could go back in time and make every decision differently. He would never view the body with Mary; he would never travel back to the crime scene; he would never let Tandy trick him into thinking they were friends. Now Mary was gone and he would absolutely be facing charges if he didn’t jump to obey Tandy’s orders. That had been part of the deal they’d struck over beers—a friendly conversation that was neither friendly nor a conversation. It had been a calculated interrogation and Jason had been happy to sing like a bird.
“God, what was I thinking?” Jason moaned, sinking to the edge of his bed and staring at the phone. What if he recorded his conversation with Vincent and Vincent said something incriminating? Then, of course it would be used against him in a human court of law, and how did Jason think that would play out?
Not good. Not good for anybody, but especially not good for Jason—or the rest of the dragons who had nothing to do with any of this and would be at risk for exposure. “Fuck. I’m an idiot.” He called the number and Tandy answered on the first ring.
“I thought you were hiding from me.”
“No,” Jason said, “just sleeping.”
“But you’re awake now?”
“Are you sure you’re not Sherlock Holmes? Anyway, I need to get dressed and then I’ll head on over to the Club.”
“Turn on your GPS so I can track your location. Call me as soon as you get there. Just leave your phone on.”
“You know, if I get caught with that phone inside the Club—”
“What? You’ll have a warrant out for your arrest?”
“No.” Probably something much worse than that, but he didn’t expect Tandy to understand. “I’ll call you when I get there. Anything else?”
“Don’t lead him on. Don’t give him too much information. Especially don’t tell him anything you know from visiting the scene. Do you understand?”
“No leading him on, no feeding him information. Got it. Anything else?”
“Yeah, get me something I can use and don’t blow it.”
“Sure. No problem.” Jason disconnected the call, muttering, “I can’t believe I ever thought I could be friends with that guy.”
But in his vulnerable state over Mary, it had seemed like they could be friends. Tandy seemed like his new best friend, and now he was embroiled in a scheme to possibly implicate the man who was the closest thing to a best friend he ever had.
He completed his regular morning routine with single-min
ded focus, seeing to the minutia of his daily life so he wouldn’t have to think about the task ahead. No matter how many times he told himself that everything was normal, the upcoming conversation weighed on him. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the consequences would be momentous, regardless of the outcome.
By the time he reached the Club, he was ready for a drink. Mia started to pour as soon as she saw him walk through the door, and he downed it with a grateful smile.
“You look like you had a tough night,” she observed.
“It wasn’t great. Give me another, please.”
“No problem. Damian was asking after you.” She slid the tumbler across the bar.
Jason did not feel like speaking with his father, especially with the previous night’s events still crowding his mind. “You haven’t seen me yet today. Is Vincent here?”
“Out back.”
“Send out a bottle of whatever he’s been drinking.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thanks, Mia. You’re the best.”
Jason paused in the restroom to make his phone call, then slid the phone back in his pocket, his heart hammering in his ears as he emerged to the corridor. He’d never attempted this level of subterfuge in his life, and it seemed to him that every dragon in the Club must know he was infiltrating the group with the intention of a double-cross. Maybe not. Maybe he won’t reveal anything incriminating. Maybe this will all be over in less than an hour.
He found Vincent lounging by the pool, a piña colada in hand, dark glasses covering his eyes. He was so still and looked so relaxed, that at first Jason couldn’t be sure he was awake at all.
“Taking the day off?” Vincent asked by way of greeting.
Jason settled in the lounge next to him. “I’m taking the time to regroup. There’s been a setback with Adventure Isle.”
“What setback is that?”
“You haven’t heard? Neil Simmons was found dead yesterday.”
Vincent sat up and slowly lifted his glasses. “What happened? Heart attack?”
“I don’t know.”
He sighed and shook his head. “May he rest in peace. He was a good man. I guess you’re going to need to look for some new leads.”
“I would have had to search for new leads anyway. Simmons didn’t have any money.”
“What about Shayne? She’s loaded, right? Maybe she’ll want to do something in memory of the old man.”
“That’s definitely a possibility. Did you know he didn’t have any money?”
Vincent shrugged and laid back against the lounge, adjusting his shoulders and settling his hands over his stomach. “His checks to me always cleared. That was the beginning and the end of my concern.” When Jason didn’t respond, Vincent lifted his glasses again and smiled. “Cheer up. This is a blessing in disguise. You’ll see.”
Mia arrived then with a pitcher of piña coladas. She poured Jason a drink and waited until it was half gone before she said, “Your father would like to see you.”
“Gee, thanks.” He didn’t want to see Damian but he felt uneasy with Vincent. How would this be a blessing in disguise? Why would he say anybody’s death would be a blessing? Hadn’t Neil been his friend? Or was the man’s money really the beginning and end of his concern?
Consumed by his thoughts, he forgot to check his phone as he passed through the guarded entrance and up the elaborate staircase. The door opened for him as it always did, and he found his father sitting behind the massive mahogany desk.
“Did you spend the night in jail?” Right to the point.
“I wasn’t arrested. Only detained for questioning.”
“In regards to what?”
“Neil Simmons was killed last night.”
“And they thought you had something to do with it?” Damian asked.
“Not until they found me searching his house.”
“Why were you at the house?”
“I had reason to suspect a dragon was involved,” Jason said.
“Of course there was no dragon involved. Why would you think that?”
“The man was burned to death. There was a claw mark on his chest. His entire staff was slaughtered. There’s blood everywhere, but I don’t even think they’ve found the bodies yet. Well, not every part of the bodies.”
“Jason, stay out of it.”
“Stay out of it?”
“Yes. Do not get involved. Did you tell the police any of this?”
“I told them why I was at the house.”
Rage flashed over Damian’s face, his eyes turning into chips of obsidian. Jason took an involuntary step back, overwhelmed by the primal force he could sense just below the human mask his father wore.
“You told the police that you thought a dragon was responsible for the murder?”
“I couldn’t lie—”
“You shouldn’t have been involved!” Damian roared, slamming his hand down on the desk. He rose and began to pace. “You should not have been involved at all. If you had any suspicions about a dragon you should have come to me. I am the one who holds them in account. Not you. And not the police.”
“I didn’t plan to speak to the police,” Jason argued. “I must have tripped a silent alarm.”
“It never occurred to you that the crime scene might be under surveillance, just as it never occurred to you to call me right away. You never think, Jason! That has always been your problem. You never think.”
Jason blinked, stung more by the venom in Damian’s voice than his words. “I know messed up but—”
“You have no idea what you’ve done. And all for some human tramp.”
“Human tramp? What are you...Are you talking about Mary?”
“Mary. Shayne. Whatever she calls herself.”
“How do you even know about me and her? And how did you know I was detained last night? Have you been having me followed? Or am I bugged?” When Damian didn’t answer, Jason pressed, “What shady shit are you up to?”
“I only do what I have to do to protect all of us.”
“Are you just spying on everyone all the time?”
“That’s not the discussion we’re having.”
“It’s the discussion we should be having,” Jason countered.
“No, that would be what we’re going to do now that you’ve risked exposing us all!”
“I think we should investigate with the police, figure out who did it, and turn him in.”
“So, our ruin can be complete? Is that your plan?”
“No, I’m trying to keep a full-blown investigation away from us! He left a bloodbath, father. This is not going to go away.”
“Thanks to you,” Damian snapped back. He paused at the phone on his desk and pressed a button. “Douglas, Oliver, get in here.”
“What are you doing?” Jason asked, the hair rising on the back of his neck.
“I’m trying to staunch the flow.” The doors swung open and two very large men strolled in. “Before it’s too late. Now hand me your phone.”
Jason bit back the protest and took it from his pocket. Damian tossed it on his desk without a second glance, not noticing that it was connected to a call. The men took Jason by the arms with bruising grips.
“What are you going to do? Throw me in the dungeon?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be in a suite.”
“A gilded cage is still a cage.”
“Would you prefer the dungeon?” His tone was deceptively casual, and Jason realized he did not want to push his luck.
“You can’t keep me locked up forever.”
“I could,” Damian said mildly, “but I won’t. Just until this mess is cleaned up. For your sake, I hope that doesn’t take too long.”
With that, Damian’s goons pulled him from the room and dragged him down the long corridor. As the door swung closed behind him, he heard Damian summon Vincent from downstairs. He tried to twist away, but their fingers bit into him with the strength of steel, and he had no choice but to allow them
to drag him to his gilded cage.
****
Mary didn’t want to sit at home by herself. She didn’t want to think about her father, the funeral, or the investigation. She didn’t want to think about Jason and how much she found herself missing him, even though he apparently shared her father’s favorite delusion. She didn’t want to think about that, either. Since she didn’t want to be by herself, she went to the bar. Everybody was surprised to see her, but they had the good sense to keep their questions to themselves and let her work without protest.
It didn’t help. It was good to keep her body moving, but it hardly kept her mind distracted. Especially since it was a slow night and she finished all of her side work very early.
“I can keep an eye on the place if you want to go home,” Donna offered. As the bar’s only full-time waitress, she practically ran the place herself.
“Why don’t you take the rest of the night off?” Mary suggested. “I don’t mind staying.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather go home?” Donna asked gently.
“I’m sure. I’ve got some bookwork I wanted to finish tonight.” That wasn’t exactly the truth. She doubted she had the concentration to do any bookkeeping. “Go on home and relax.”
Donna still seemed hesitant, but she clocked out and gathered up her purse and coat, urging Mary to give her a call if she needed anything at all.
Once she had the bar to herself, she grabbed a handful of quarters from the tip jar and pumped them into the jukebox. Without realizing it, she selected a dozen of her father’s favorite songs, understanding what she’d done only when the music started. She sighed, resting her head against the cool glass, fresh pain winding around her heart. She didn’t always see eye to eye with her father, but no little girl could have asked for a better dad.
“Excuse me.”
Mary jerked upright and spun to face the newcomer. A tall man with sharp good looks that almost seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t put her finger on how or why.
“I hate to disturb you, but are you open?”
“Yes, yes,” Mary said, wiping the corner of her eyes. “Come on in. What can I get you?”