by R. L. Naquin
“Fine.” He turned toward the hallway. “I’m going for a walk.” He stomped down the stairs.
I watched him go, my heart beating extra hard. I didn’t like arguing with him. Every time he got overprotective or questioned me, he made me feel defensive. Like I was that little girl with a crush all over again. I glanced at Ash. “He wears me out.”
She smirked. “And not in a fun, spanky way.”
I snorted. And for the first time, possibly ever, I had no response to offer.
Chapter Eight
We didn’t take long to get set up in the back of the Craft Shack. When we explained the situation to Brody, he gave up his office for Ash to call the ex-OGREs. And true to his word, he set up a table and chairs in a quiet corner so Tahm could interview his employees.
Brody had even taken the time to call them all the night before and ask the ones who weren’t on the schedule to come in.
With everything organized, I took off on my own to Simon’s house.
A shirtless bro with wet hair answered the door. He looked me up and down and grinned. “Hey. What can I do for you?”
I flashed him the badge I’d made earlier that morning. “Special Investigator Kam. I’m here to ask a few questions about your roommate, Simon.”
His grin disappeared and his eyes grew sad. “Yeah. Okay. Come on in.” He stepped aside so I could enter.
The living room was small, dusty and smelled of sweat socks. “Thanks. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
He grabbed a pile of pizza boxes from the coffee table and shoved them into the kitchen. “That’s what the last guy said. He also said they’d be back to take a closer look at Simon’s room.”
I peered into the kitchen and tried not to retch at the smell from in there. “Well, that’s what I’m here to do.”
He led me down a narrow hallway. “We kept the room exactly as it was, just like the other guy said to do. Detective Reese, I think his name was. Then nobody came back. I don’t want to be too harsh, but we need to rent this room out. As much as I miss Simon, having him gone is kind of a financial strain, you know what I mean?”
I searched his face for any sign of malice or deception. All I found there was sadness and resignation. “I understand.”
I hoped we could solve all this quickly so Simon’s friends could mourn properly and move on to a new roommate. I knew what it was like to get caught in a holding pattern of loss. It was one of the reasons I’d taken Darius’s truck and had gone on the road after he’d died. I’d had to break out of the holding pattern and move forward.
He pushed a door open for me. “This one’s his.”
“Thank you.” I stepped around him to enter the room. “Are you the only one who’s home?”
“No. The rest are in the basement playing foosball. Do you need me to get them?”
“Not just yet. I’ll let you finish getting dressed while I go over it. After that, I’ll want to talk to all of you.”
He gave me a quick nod, then disappeared down the hall.
I closed the door behind me and took a look around Simon’s room. Sure enough, there was an entire area in the corner devoted to makeup and face paint. The guy had an impressive collection. The area above the dressing table held shelves and shelves of remarkable things. Eyelashes in several sizes and colors. Jars of eyeliners and mascaras. A hundred shades of lipstick and twice that in eye shadows. Highlighters, foundations and fake skin stacked neatly beside each other, and in the center of it all, a great big mirror.
Simon had been serious about his makeup. And I doubted anybody could be that committed without being talented at it.
The bed was made, so I sat on the edge and took in the room as a whole. It was tidy. No dirty dishes sat on the bedside table, and no balled-up socks rolled around the floor. Hats and wigs hung from pegs on the wall, and a small bookcase was filled with comic books and fantasy novels. Three pairs of shoes—two pairs of sneakers and a pair of dress shoes—were lined up on the floor against the wall. On a hunch, I slid to the floor and checked under the bed, but it was as clean under there as the rest of the room.
I opened the closet door and found the answer to my first question.
A pillow and neatly folded blanket took up one corner of the floor. A Pokémon poster lined the inside wall beside the pillow, and a dirty cereal bowl and a glass with a little milk dried up at the bottom sat forgotten beside it.
Not only had I found the mess, I’d found what Simon had been. I only knew one closet monster, but I couldn’t mistake what I was seeing. Maurice was like a brother to me. I recognized the signs. I smiled to myself, thinking of my friend.
Now that he lived with his demon girlfriend, I wondered if he still slept in a closet.
The rest of the closet was filled with tee shirts and jeans on one side, and costumes on the other. Most of them were a mystery to me, but I did spot what looked like Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. If the costume dated back to before a closet monster could go out looking human, then he had to have used some extreme makeup skills. A person couldn’t just slap a little concealer on a closet monster and have him pass for human.
I closed the closet door and moved to the dresser, checking in each of the drawers for anything that might help tell the missing pieces of the story. The top drawer held underwear and socks and, oddly enough, a large collection of bowties. I sifted through it all until I found something hard and pulled it free.
Simon’s emergency epinephrine injector.
I turned toward the makeup table with the meds in my hand and counted my steps from the dresser to the desk. Seven. Seven steps to get across the room and save his own life. Anaphylactic shock or not, he shouldn’t have had a problem getting to it in time. I took a closer look at the items on the table that hadn’t been tidied up. They must’ve been what he’d been using when the allergic reaction hit.
I picked up a small pot of beige goop and unscrewed the lid. There was a small hair in it, which I assumed was probably a dog hair. This was weird, considering it had been closed. I opened several more containers at random and found more hair in each one. How the hell would the dog hair get in there unless it had been on purpose?
A piece of blue canvas was rolled up and tucked to the side. I untied the strings around it and unrolled it. An array of brushes was tucked into pockets. I pulled out a large fluffy one and scrutinized its soft bristles. When I tapped it across the back of my hand, a few hairs came loose.
Interesting. So, what was the hair in the makeup? Was it dog hair, or was it stray fibers from cheap brushes? It seemed to me that someone who was that serious about his makeup was probably serious about his brushes, too. Something didn’t add up here.
Unfortunately, the nonexistent OGRE squad in this area didn’t have a forensics lab. But somebody would. I rolled up the brushes and dropped them into the cloth shopping bag I’d brought with me. Several eyeshadows, a container of loose powder, a mascara and bottle of primer went in with it.
I left the room and went looking for the other residents of the house.
They were in the kitchen, gathered around the table looking twitchy and nervous. All of them had kept their human forms, which made me smile. The guy who’d let me in had apparently been unable to tell if I was Hidden or not.
“Relax, guys. I’m a djinn.” I held up my arm and moved my bracelets aside. “Cool?”
One by one their tension eased and they lowered their disguises.
“I’m Gabe.” A skinny guy with lavender skin, furry knuckles and domed ears rose from his seat. “This is Sid, Alistair and Dusty.”
They were all shades of blues and grays with hair ranging from a fluffy cloud of magenta on Alistair to a tightly curled fire engine red on Dusty. They all had large, domed ears, mottled skin and lank bodies.
There was no way to tell from looking at them which divisi
on they were, but they were all house monsters. Attic? Closet? Under the bed? That was a personal choice they made when they reached maturity. The only one I could tell for certain was Simon, since he’d had a nest in his closet.
I shook hands with each of them. “I’m Kam. Thanks for interrupting your game for me.”
Gabe pulled a chair out for me. “You want a beer?”
I started to say no. After all, I was investigating a murder and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. But if it convinced them to loosen up and talk to me, maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. Besides, I could use a beer. “Sure. As long as you’re all having one.”
Alistair went to the fridge and passed cold bottles of some local craft beer around the table. I popped mine open and took a long pull. It was cold and pretty tasty. I decided not to tell Ash and Tahm I’d been drinking with monster frat boys while everyone else was hard at work.
“Thanks for giving me a few minutes of your time, guys.” I held up my bottle. “And thanks for the beer.”
Dusty clanked his bottle against mine. “Cheers.” Then he tipped back his head and drained the entire thing.
One by one, the other three did the same, then looked at me with expectant expressions.
“Not a chance.” I took a dainty sip. I hadn’t lived through Prohibition, Woodstock and the invention of the beer bong without learning a few things about limits and making good choices.
Alistair set down his empty bottle and folded his hands on the table. “Sorry. We got carried away.” He gave me a polite, sheepish smile. “How can we help, Detective Kam?”
The title gave me a little thrill, though I would have preferred Sheriff Kam. “Why don’t you start with Simon. Tell me a little about him.”
Dusty tipped his head toward the hallway. “You saw his room. The dude was a seriously good makeup artist. He was walking around with humans long before the world changed. He could make anyone look like anyone else.”
I nodded. “So, he must have taken good care of his equipment and supplies.”
“He was obsessed.” Sid slumped in his chair. “He’d spend hours in there organizing it.”
Gabe gazed out the window. “Something came in the mail for him almost every day. Samples. New sponges. Adhesives for moles or fake noses and chins. It was always something.”
“Brushes?” I sipped my beer to attempt to appear like the question was a throwaway.
Gabe shrugged. “Sure. I guess. He tried everything.”
“Are any of you familiar with his tools and supplies? Did you help?”
They all shook their heads.
Sid chuckled. “We were all his guinea pigs, but he was always trying new things. By the time my turn came around to sit in the hot seat and be his subject, he’d have a bunch of new stuff to try out.”
“I see.” In fact, I was beginning to see. “Were any of you home the day he died?” I already assumed the answer to that was no, and the sad expressions and headshakes confirmed it.
“I wish we had been.” Dusty wiped away a tear. “We practically lost a brother.”
The group nodded, and any remaining good humor in them sank into the abyss.
“I’m so sorry, guys.” My heart squeezed in sympathy. I hated asking people to relive painful memories. It seemed unfair to make them think about things they were trying to heal from.
Sid picked at the label on his bottle. “I’m just glad somebody’s looking into it again. I really want to find out what happened, you know?”
All four of them looked so sad. I wanted to grab them up in a big group hug and ease their pain.
I cleared the lump in my throat and straightened my spine. I couldn’t bring their friend back, but I could certainly do everything in my power to solve his murder. “Did Simon have a girlfriend? What did he do outside of the cosplay stuff?”
Gabe and Dusty exchanged an uncomfortable look, and Gabe ran his hand through the sparse blue hair on his head. “He had a girlfriend. Yeah. Kind of.”
I frowned. “Kind of?”
“They never actually met. She was an online thing. They’d been talking for over a year. We were all pretty sure she was catfishing him, but he was convinced she was legit and that they were in love.”
Now this was interesting information. “Where did he meet her? How did he talk to her?”
Sid shrugged. “Facebook, I think. But he said her computer died, so they texted and talked on the phone after that.”
“Do you know where his phone is now?”
“I think that OGRE guy took it with him.”
Of course he had.
I took one last dainty swig of my beer. “Can I ask you about one more thing? Then I’ll leave you alone.”
Alistair bobbed his head, and his magenta hair flopped forward and back. “Go for it. We want to help you find who did this.”
So they agreed it was a murder, not an accident. I didn’t have to ask which of them had brought the dog in. None of them would have. And I already had the answers they’d given to that Tyrell guy. “Who cleaned up his room after he died?” It was a hunch, but I was going with it.
Gabe held up his hands. “Whoa. We didn’t do that until that other detective came through and looked at everything. When he didn’t come back, we decided to put all of Simon’s stuff away. For him. He never would have left his workbench like that.”
“We just put his stuff away.” Dusty ran his hand over his head. “And we dusted and vacuumed. Did we do wrong? The detective didn’t come back. We thought it was over and that’s all they were going to do.”
I gave them what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, guys. I think I found what I needed.” I pushed back my chair and strode to a small white board on their refrigerator. “I’m going to leave my number here. If you think of anything at all that you think might help, call me, okay?” I used the outside of my hand to erase a bad attempt at a dirty limerick and replaced it with my name and number. “Nothing funny rhymes with ‘Vancouver,’ guys.”
I left them standing in the kitchen arguing over whose turn it was to go on a beer run.
* * *
Tahm and Ash were making a dent in the two lists of people we had to talk to. As far as I was concerned, her highest priority had already been achieved. Tyrell was coming in later that day to talk to me. A few of the other past OGREs had appointments, too, but Tyrell was the one who interested me. And I had a hunch a lot of what needed to be done could be handed over to him, if we could convince him to come back.
That was, of course, as long as he wasn’t a big ass-monkey who shouldn’t be doing police work. Like Ziggy. I’d figure it out after I had a chance to check him out.
Tahm had made good strides interviewing the employees.
When I arrived, Brody brought me a cup of coffee, and Tahm pushed out the empty chair with his foot. “Have a seat. I’m in between interviews.”
“He’s either made them fall in love with him or made them cry.” Brody chuckled. “One or two did both.”
I grinned. “So, quite the productive morning.”
“I only have a few left, actually. But I’m beginning to see a pattern.” He sat back in his chair and folded his hands across his stomach.
“Yeah? What do you have?”
He shook his head. “Not yet. I want to interview the last couple of people while I mull this over. Can you give me a few more hours to think it through?”
I considered it. “I can do that. Don’t take too long, though. I don’t want to lose any more people.”
Ash pulled up a chair and joined us. “How did it go at Simon’s house? Did you find anything useful?”
I frowned. “I need a forensics lab, but this region doesn’t have one.” I reached into my bag and pulled out the roll of brushes and a jar of concealer. “I think the dog hair that killed Simon was in these brushes. But I can’
t be sure without testing them.”
“We’ll have to send them out then.”
I nodded. “I’ll call Kansas City and see if they can do a rush.” I rubbed the spot between my eyebrows with the tips of my fingers. “This was supposed to be a simple soul chase. I can’t believe we’re in the middle of a murder investigation.”
“Again. Too bad we don’t get to go undercover this time.” Ash smiled and patted me on the back. She was having a good time, apparently.
A deafening wail cut off anything I might have said in reply. Overhead, dressed as Wonder Woman, Wendy flew through the rafters. Souls couldn’t speak, but apparently, banshees could still sound a death cry. Because that was the only thing that sound could possibly be.
Wendy came closer to us, her mouth open wide and her eyes flowing with tears of grief. She pointed toward the front of the store and took off in that direction.
The four of us scrambled to our feet and followed at a run. Blinking in the fluorescent light, I took a moment to get my bearings. A few human customers glanced up at us as we plowed through the swinging doors, then went back to their shopping, oblivious to the activity around them. The Hidden employees and one or two Hidden customers stood with their hands covering their ears to protect them from the earsplitting banshee wail the humans couldn’t hear.
Wendy flew close to the ceiling, circling the entire store, giving us no clue as to where the problem might be, though she didn’t appear to be trying to lead us outside. But I still knew what it meant, if not exactly where—when a banshee wailed, someone was about to die. If we hurried, maybe we could save the person who was being threatened. In theory, anyway. I wasn’t sure if it was too late if the banshee had already done her thing.
My phone vibrated, and I glanced at the display. Goose bumps rose on my arms. We had a call for a potential soul reap, at this address. There was no name included in the message, which sometimes happened when Headquarters wasn’t positive it would happen. We were on our own. I glanced out the window, wondering if Wendy was wrong about it happening inside. Two of the three murders had been hit-and-runs in parking lots.