Ex-Cape | Book 2 | Ex-Cape From A Small Town

by Wentzel, Daniel

  “Counterparts?” Sean’s voice was neutral.

  “We fought on different sides in the Crusades. We’ll likely never agree on matters of religion, but for me to deny the good Fathi has done would be a lie of the first order. Our powers are similar, but not equal. I am stronger. He is faster. I have more potent healing gifts, and he can create food for a larger amount of people.”

  “I didn’t know you could create food,” said Sean, glossing over the reference to the Crusades.

  “When there is need. It is a gift, not a parlor trick, so please don’t ask me for a demonstration.”

  “Understood.” Sean nodded. “Any legal relationship?”

  “We are the executors of each other’s wills. And since he married one of my brother’s descendants, we are next of kin. I had the papers drawn up about sixty years ago. If you need to see them, I can arrange that, but not tonight.”

  “Not necessary. I’d like to go question him now. You’re welcome to come translate.”

  Sean didn’t wait for a response, he headed into Fathi’s room. Molly could recognize the set of his shoulders. He was dealing with capes. It made him skip over uncomfortable and go straight to bothered. She sidled up to Wulfric and squeezed his arm supportively.

  Sandra coughed unobtrusively, except that she was obviously trying to be obtrusive. “I don’t think there’s room for the whole crew in the room, Molly. You and Sean can go in, and Erasmus will hang in the door. I’ll stay out here, but you have to promise not to say anything that goes against your interest.” Molly nodded, but Sandra continued. “That means you should probably not say anything at all.”

  Molly tried hard to keep her gaze from becoming a glare. Wulfric gave Molly’s shoulder a squeeze of his own and guided her into Fathi’s room.

  Fathi’s entire face was a swath of bandages. Even through them, the swelling on his face was obvious. Molly had trouble recognizing him. For all that, though, he tried to smile.

  “Mr. Faizan, I’m Detective Sergeant Cedar with the State Police. I’d like to ask you some questions. I gather you know Miss Martin. She’s assisting with the investigation. If you have no objections, I’d like her to be present.”

  Fathi held up his thumb. No translation was needed.

  “I read your statement, but I just want to clarify. Right before the shots were fired, you say Stomper hit you in the face and broke your jaw?”

  Fathi held up two fingers.

  “He hit you twice?” asked Sean.

  “I think Fathi is saying Stomper broke his jaw for the second time,” put in Wulfric. “The first time was on the podium after he leapt from the scaffolding.”

  Fathi nodded and pointed to both distended cheeks in turn.

  Sean winced. “Jaw broken in two places. That’s harsh.”

  “Fathi heals quickly,” Wulfric offered. “He’ll be eating steak inside of a week.”

  When he realized no one was kidding, Sean kept up his poker face. “And the gunshots came from behind you? You didn’t see the shooter?”

  Fathi made some complicated gestures. Wulfric translated, mostly for Molly.

  “Not behind, beside. He’d been thrown up against the wall by the time the shots were fired.”

  “And you didn’t see who fired the shots?”

  Fathi shrugged apologetically.

  “Can you rule anyone out as the shooter?”

  Fathi shook his head.

  “All right.” Sean looked over at Molly, then back to Fathi. Molly felt warning bells going off in her brain. “Mr. Faizan, I have some further questions, and I feel I should remind you that you can ask for a lawyer at any time.”

  Fathi made a few hand gestures. “Do I need a lawyer?” Wulfric translated.

  “I honestly couldn’t say. How about you tell me after you hear the questions?”

  Fathi nodded.

  “What exactly was your purpose in being at the debate tonight?”

  Fathi narrowed his eyes a bit but started a rapid series of gestures. Wulfric kept a running commentary.

  “Mr. Nelson’s predecessor had made several statements which unfairly branded the Islamic community as fundamentalists and terrorists. My group was there to contest that backwards way of thinking and encourage Nelson to take a different track than Horton.”

  “And that comment he made about religious extremists during his speech this afternoon?”

  Molly didn’t remember that comment, but she did recall zoning into her own thoughts several times in the course of the speech.

  Fathi harrumphed and made a few brief gestures. “That was not encouraging.”

  Sean nodded. “And how damaging would his rise to the Senate have been?”

  Wulfric’s baritone had an undertone of annoyance as he interpreted Fathi’s signs. “Sadly, he would be one of many in the Senate with prejudices. It would have been unfortunate, but not unthinkable.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Faizan. Now I understand you don’t use a codename as your compatriot here does?”

  Fathi rolled his eyes, while Wulfric chuckled at what must be an old conversation between them. “I am who I am. Metahumans in my native country do not use the kind of colorful titles you find in America.”

  “No doubt. Although when I pulled your records, I did find an alias listed for you. I believe it was ‘The Lion of Islam.’ Is that correct?”

  For all that he hadn’t said anything, Fathi’s silence became dangerous. Molly wasn’t sure how, but she sensed his signs were more clipped when he responded. Wulfric’s tone was nearly a growl. “I have been called that, but it is not a title I use. And if there are any more questions along this line, I’m afraid I will want my lawyer to be present.”

  Sean nodded. “That won’t be necessary. I have no further questions. For the record, I do not consider you a suspect. You worked rather hard to keep Mr. Nelson safe if your intention was then to murder him. However, I don’t want to be accused of not asking the questions that some people in my department will feel needed to be asked. It was not my intention to offend you, sir, and I hope you can forgive me if I have.”

  Fathi considered him for a moment, then nodded. Sean bobbed his head in return and turned on his heel. Molly followed him out, but Wulfric put a hand on her shoulder before she had gotten too far from the room.

  “You had, I recall, offered to let us visit your home earlier today. Is that offer still good, or shall I arrange for a hotel? They are keeping him overnight, but Fathi should be released in the morning.”

  Molly looked at Sandra, who looked at Erasmus.

  “As neither men are suspects, according to Detective Cedar, it isn’t a legal problem,” Erasmus said uninterestedly.

  Molly gave Wulfric her home number and caught up with Sean, who was waiting for her at the end of the hall.

  “Okay, Miss Consultant. Any thoughts?”

  “I think that what happened back there was unnecessary and a little despicable.”

  Sean gave her an expressionless gaze in return. His voice was artificially light when he responded. “You mean the part where I let Mr. Faizan explain in his own words why he had no real motive to kill Nelson? Because I, for one, thought that was particularly important.”

  “It was tactless.”

  “It was police work,” he countered. “I have to ask people questions like ‘Did you shoot your mother in the head?’ on a pretty regular basis. I have bodies on the ground, Molly. Tact isn’t a priority for me.”

  “Obviously,” she spat.

  Sean’s frustration came boiling to the surface in a way Molly rarely saw. The muscles around his jaw tightened and he loomed over her. “When you were a cape, did your interrogation method ever consist of beating a suspect about the head and shoulders until he told you what you wanted to know?”

  Molly winced. It was all the answer she could give.

  “Then I think you can shut the hell up!”

  It was the harshest thing he’d ever said to her, and it seemed neither one of them could
believe it. The text message alarm from his phone saved either of them from saying anything further. Sean pulled the phone from his shirt pocket with a sigh of frustration.

  “Hmm,” he said, looking at the text.

  “What is it?” said Sandra.

  “Ballistics just confirmed the murder weapon. It was Officer Baxter’s sidearm.”

  Chapter Ten

  “How long do we have until the police arrive?”

  The Grim Detective sort of smiled. “The police have not been called. Odds are good that they won’t be unless we do it ourselves.”

  Etherya stared at the room. Four dead bodies and at least a dozen bullets discharged. How could the police not have been called?

  “What are your thoughts?” Grim stared at his two pupils.

  Searchlight had gone through a growth spurt and was now only a few inches shorter than Etherya. He piped up first. “Those three worked for Giovanni Petrucelli. The other one is Davey Murdock’s baby brother, Liam.”

  Grim nodded. “True. And what does that indicate?”

  “Possibly a turf battle? Negotiations gone awry?” Searchlight said with a furrowed brow.

  “Is that a question, or are you giving me an answer?”

  “Umm… I’m forming theories?”

  Grim sighed. “Keep thinking.” He turned to Etherya. “Ethee?”

  “I’m a little preoccupied,” she responded. “Why weren’t the police called, and how did you know this crime scene was here?”

  Grim nodded. “Not exactly the point of today’s exercise, but those are valid questions. I knew there was a meeting going on last night, but there was a more serious matter uptown.” He gestured at one of the bodies. “One of my informants is his girlfriend. She told me he’d gone missing and asked me to look into it.”

  Etherya took another look at the bodies. She wondered for a moment about how moral it was to have a twelve-year-old viewing such a morbid scene. Still, she knew keeping Searchlight away would have been a job beyond even Grim’s capabilities.

  “Looks like the three over here were hit with a .45 magnum. Mr. Murdock took the .38.” said Searchlight. Etherya shook her head. Twelve years old and he knew more about bullet holes than she did.

  “And I’m guessing those are two .45s in Murdock’s hands?” she asked.

  Searchlight gave her a rather withering look. Grim raised his eyebrows.

  “Ethee, I know pistols aren’t your strong suit, but watching Dirty Harry should tell you those are .45s.”

  She felt her hackles rise but kept her voice neutral. “My cinema choices notwithstanding, I’m right, aren’t I?”

  “Yes. I’m just sorry you have to ask.”

  She ignored that. “So, we have three men down and one other apparently holding the guns that killed them.”

  “That is what it looks like,” Grim agreed.

  “But you don’t think that’s what happened.” Searchlight wasn’t asking this time. Grim said nothing in response, but everyone knew he agreed.

  Etherya gestured for permission to enter the room. Grim nodded, and she and Searchlight walked inside, being careful where they put their feet. They were especially careful not to step in any of the blood. Searchlight lived up to his name, turning on his own incandescence and lighting up the room.

  “Petrucelli and Murdock have a kind of understanding.” Searchlight said, thinking out loud. “Petrucelli handles mostly narcotics, and Murdock and his boys are gun runners. I think they supply Petrucelli, so I’m not sure where things went south.”

  “You’re focusing on motive too much,” Grim said. “Motive isn’t likely to come out in a crime scene. Focus on what happened, not why.”

  Etherya nodded. She’d been doing exactly that. “Murdock was standing not far from the door about where I am now, based on the angle of the shots. He fired from right to left, you can see how the man on the right is underneath the man on the left.”

  Searchlight nodded. “And then he charged the man on the far left over there, and they both took a bullet. That’s how he ended up on the other side of the room.”

  Grim said nothing. Etherya and Searchlight looked at each other, both had furrowed brows.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” they both said together.

  “What’s wrong with it?” Grim asked patiently.

  Searchlight took a few steps toward the two piled bodies. “He must have been standing straight up to make these shots. What was he doing, just letting them plug away at him?”

  “Maybe he got the drop on them,” suggested Grim.

  “No, they fired back.” Etherya shook her head. “There are at least two sizes of bullets all over the floor here by the door. You can see where they bounced off the steel wall behind me.” She stared down at those bullets, frowning.

  “And he definitely didn’t get the drop on this third guy,” Searchlight said. “Why would he run toward someone firing at him? He was right by the door. He could have jumped through it looking for cover.”

  “Just how much of a bad-ass was this Liam Murdock?” Etherya asked, still looking at the bullets. Something about the way they were on the ground was nagging at her.

  “Why do you ask?” said Grim.

  “Well, he comes alone to this place, carrying two gigantic pistols, and manages to take out three men even though he’s out-gunned.”

  “My brother could do it,” commented Searchlight.

  Etherya nodded good-naturedly. Searchlight was proud of his brother, a marine who was serving a tour in Sarajevo. He had developed hero-worship for the man, who had no super powers. It was in every way appropriate, but the boy tended to overstate his brother’s abilities, and it was sometimes a little irritating.

  “Your brother would be smart enough not to try it.” Grim looked at Etherya. “What is it?”

  “There’s something about these bullets.” She took a step back and blinked. “Why are these four about two feet in front of the others?”

  “Because they bounced off of something bulletproof.” Grim was nodding.

  Searchlight and Etherya came to the same conclusion. Searchlight spoke up first. “There was someone else here.”

  “Someone bulletproof.” Etherya glanced at the bodies in a pile. “Whoever it was shot these two men. Liam and the other guy killed each other. Then the other person put his gun in Liam’s hand.”

  Grim nodded. “Another clue to that is the fact he had two guns and only one holster. A gun runner would know better than to stuff a second weapon down the back of his pants.”

  “So who was the other man?” Searchlight had a narrowed brow. “Davey Murdock’s crew doesn’t have any super villain clients, and Liam isn’t the kind to go solo.”

  “So the most likely situation is that Liam didn’t know his partner wasn’t a regular human being.”

  Etherya and Searchlight ran through the same mental list of suspects. This time, Etherya came to the conclusion quickest. “Robodroid. Wearing a skin so he looked like Davey Murdock.”

  “Well deduced.”

  The new voice came from behind The Grim Detective. It came a split second before an unremarkable looking man shoulder blocked Grim at a speed no human could match. Grim fell out of sight from where he stood in the doorframe.

  Searchlight’s palms lit up like flashbulbs. The beam of light from the palms struck Robodroid in the face. An average man would have been blinded, but a robot with mechanical eyes barely registered the attack. He walked into the room with what could only be called a swagger.

  “Detective school is over, youngsters.”

  “Youngsters?” Etherya blurted. “You were built six years ago.”

  “I absorbed the memories of a dozen people since then.” Robodroid said with a sneer. “My true age is close to four hundred years old.”

  The attack came on the word “age.” There was no change in his inflection. His shirt simply exploded outward and four projectiles launched from a silent weapon built into his shoulder joint. A thin silver
barrel now protruded out about an inch in front of his chest. He’d been hoping to take her by surprise, but she’d ghosted the moment he’d shown himself.

  Searchlight leapt forward with a spectacular kick. He managed to make the android fall back a step. It was an impressive feat for a fully grown martial artist. For a child, it was nearly miraculous. In either case, it was futile. Robodroid was undamaged.

  The android’s speed was impressive, but the young boy had been trained by the best of the best. Searchlight dodged the counterstrike. He was able to compensate for his opponent’s speed with his own small stature.

  Etherya was not so well trained, but in her insubstantial form, she was harder to damage. She leapt forward, hoping to bury her arm into the robot’s chest. If she could grab a hold of some of his inner wiring, she might be able to dismantle it and shut him down.

  Sadly, Robodroid was familiar with that tactic. She’d used it on him twice before. He danced away from her, letting Searchlight’s punch bounce harmlessly off his stomach.

  The fight continued that way for a full minute, which in a combat situation is an eternity. Robodroid accepted the punishment from Searchlight and simply evaded Etherya. Fifteen seconds into the fight, he detached his left ring finger at the knuckle, revealing a sparking mass of electricity. It was a weapon she could not completely counter as electricity could affect her ghosted self. Now she was on the defensive.

  A strategy popped into her head. She hoped Searchlight would read her mind. If he couldn’t play his part, they were in all kinds of trouble.

  She became solid just as Robodroid swung for the young boy. Searchlight dodged the blow – only just – but the android clipped Etherya in the shoulder. The damage was superficial, but she yelped and fell away as though seriously hurt. Robodroid had only memories of the concept of pain, so perhaps he’d think he’d hurt her more than he had.

  Searchlight did exactly what she expected him to, dodging and moving to draw his opponent away from his ally. Etherya rolled to the door and wasted no time dashing to Grim. The Grim Detective had instinctively rolled with the attack and was already starting to come around, but she didn’t have time to waste. She jammed her hands into the pocket of his trench coat.