Stormrise

by Knizley, Skye

  “Yeah. What have we got?” Raven ignored the offered hand. It looked sticky.

  Looking surprised at Raven’s lack of enthusiasm, Levac fumbled in his pockets for his notepad, which he found in his jacket along with the wadded remains of a yellow fast food wrapper.

  “I already have the preliminaries,” he said. “Let’s see…the victim’s name is Nathan King, forty-five years old, single, worked at an accounting firm not far from here, based on the business cards in his pocket, and he has the penthouse in this building so he isn’t hurting for cash, money. Guess that waiting list just got a bit shorter.”

  Raven nodded and moved to the driver’s side of the vehicle where Mr. King’s earthly remains still rested. “Any idea how long he’s been down here?”

  “Quite a while would be my guess,” Levac said. “The attendant who found him said no one usually parks down here and they only come down every couple weeks to check for vagrants. It’s a popular campsite for the homeless this time of year.”

  “So at least two weeks. You would think someone would have missed him before now.” Raven bent to look inside the car.

  Nathan King hadn’t died easily or in a good way. He was still seated behind the wheel of the car, both hands hanging at his side. His corpse was well dressed in a very expensive Brooks Brothers suit matched with a silk tie and shirt, both of which were now stiff with dried blood. Though the body had been there for some time, the cool of the garage and the almost airtight car had kept the corpse from decomposing. As it was, the victim looked almost alive.

  “Did you call the coroner?” Raven slipped her hands into a pair of nitrile gloves from her kit.

  Levac nodded and moved to the side where he could see what Raven was doing. “Yeah, they're stuck in traffic, but they ought to be here soon; there’s some kind of party going on that has traffic backed up downtown. A bunch of nuts in zombie costumes.”

  Raven frowned and continued her examination of the car, making note of the high velocity blood spatter all over the dashboard and windshield, the skin and blood under King’s fingernails, and the cracked center console covered in the victim’s blood.

  Using two fingers, Raven pulled apart the victim’s shirt and it made a tearing sound like separating Velcro. Beneath was a ragged hole revealing the victim's ruptured stomach, torn left lung and cracked ribs. “Well,” she said, “I think we can definitely rule out natural causes.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Levac, unable to see around Raven.

  “Because nothing natural rips your stomach open like this,” she replied in a soft voice.

  An hour later, Raven sat on a sheet of plastic behind the wheel of the BMW. Dr. Zhu had arrived from the coroner’s office and taken the body away with the promise of a report in her inbox by midnight, and Levac had gone to start a profile on the victim, leaving Raven alone with the car until the crime scene technicians showed up to process it for trace evidence.

  Raven knew they would find little of interest in the car itself. Whatever had made the gaping hole in King’s stomach, it hadn’t been left behind with his corpse.

  With a casual grace, Raven ran her fingers over the steering wheel, then over the center console, feeling the hardened and dried blood spatter through her gloves. After a moment she closed her eyes and let her other senses talk to her. By the smell of the blood, she knew King had been blood type AB+; he had been of Finnish or Austrian ancestry and he struggled with too much copper in his system. From the other smells in the car, she knew he had worn knockoff cologne that smelled a little like Polo, smoked cinnamon flavored cigars, and had probably had sex the night he died. The sweet scent of coitus still lingered in the car; a smell usually associated with the back seat of a teenager's car, not an upper class BMW. She suspected there was a condom somewhere under the seat, but she had no interest in looking for it. She would let the crime scene technicians have the pleasure.

  Sensing nothing else, Raven opened her eyes again. She rifled through the glove box and center console, but found nothing but a half-used box of cherry flavored glow-in-the-dark prophylactics and the car’s registration, which reflected the information she already knew.

  Her cursory search of the car’s contents concluded, Raven twisted the ignition key, turning on the power and activating the car’s navigation system. Using the control wheel between the seats, Raven scrolled through the last locations, confirming that the car had last been used about two weeks previously on a Friday night, and the victim had gone to an address in Evanston sometime before he'd been killed. Raven made a note of the address and was just turning the ignition off when Levac returned with the crime scene technicians they had been waiting for.

  “Find anything interesting?” he asked around a mouthful of cheeseburger.

  “Maybe,” Raven said. “Come on, we’ll let the techs do their thing and take a look in King’s apartment.”

  “Absolutely, absolutely.” Cheese, mustard and pickles spilled from Levac's lips. “I’ll follow you anywhere…you know, ’cause you’re the boss.”

  Raven ignored the comment and led the way to the elevator that would take them to the lobby of the apartment building and to the private elevators that led to the penthouse and suites. Raven hoped the ride would be quick…Levac’s cheeseburger was making her hungry and she hadn’t eaten since lunch.

  III

  It was a fifteen-minute wait for the building manager (who had to be dragged away from a game show rerun) to unlock the door, which showed no signs of forced entry. Slowly and with as much theatrics as the man could muster, the door was opened to reveal an apartment as lavish and expensive as the X6. A short hallway led into a large living room complete with central fireplace and a built-in cream leather sofa. Plush, blue carpeting covered the floor, and the walls had been decorated with heavy, cherry wood paneling that gave the room a homey, rustic look that would be pleasant to come home to after a long day. Beyond this was a large eat-in kitchen packed with the latest technology and restaurant-quality appliances, while to the right a short hallway led to the back of the apartment. Levac moved toward the kitchen as if magnetically attracted to the high-end appliances, and Raven stepped down into the living room. The wide coffee table was covered with stacked copies of Smart Money, Financial Times, Bloomberg Magazine, and Knights of the Dinner Table. She flipped through the top copies, noting they didn’t appear to have even been read, though the address stickers confirmed they had been mailed directly to the victim.

  She recognized a scent carried through the room and her sensitive nose drew her to the fireplace. The steel grate was covered with several inches of ashes, soft and almost perfectly shaped. Again using her two-finger search technique, Raven sifted through the ashes, finding two partially burned, handwritten notes. Each was signed with “I love you” and a stylized capital V. Raven guessed from the calligraphy that the letters had been written by a female. She looked at each, but was unable to make out more than a few words; from what she could read, it was clear someone wanted to meet with King at the ‘usual place’ and it was urgent.

  Raven placed the notes on the edge of the fireplace for crime scene to process and moved on. Levac, who had been rifling through the refrigerator, stopped her.

  “Found something!” He held up an oblong package.

  “Your next meal?” Raven’s voice dripped with derision. “I think you left some cheeseburger in my hair.”

  He frowned and wiped his chin. “Sarcasm is unbecoming of you, Storm. It’s something even more interesting than dinner; come check this out!” He held a package wrapped in aluminum foil and covered with a thin layer of ice that was already melting on his slacks. The edge he had cracked open revealed four inch-thick stacks of twenty-dollar bills, all neatly wrapped.

  “There are three more bricks in there,” Levac said. “It looks like maybe ten grand in twenties and fifties; literally cold hard cash.”

  “I guess that’s one way to hide your assets,” Raven said. “But why?”

  Lev
ac set the brick on the counter. “Maybe he was afraid of another crash. He was an accountant, after all.”

  “Maybe,” Raven said, unconvinced. “Anything else?”

  Levac shook his head and waved at the fridge. “Just a lot of ginger ale, stale bread, and Saltine crackers,” he said. “Nothing good. What about you?”

  Raven shrugged. “Some burned notes and unread magazines. Come on, let’s check the bedrooms.”

  The master bedroom had been decorated in late 70s sleaze, meaning Levac would feel right at home. A huge, round bed covered by a black comforter and matched with red pillows dominated the middle of the room. Two of the walls and the ceiling were covered in mirrors; the third wall was painted the color of heart’s blood while the fourth was a wide sliding glass door that opened onto a large balcony complete with hot tub and secluded view of the city.

  Levac smiled and admired the décor. “Okay, this is just awesome! I wonder if the victim ever made porn in here.”

  Raven folded her arms and favored Levac with a glare. “Are you serious? I feel like I need a shower just standing here. This room is all yours; I’ll check the other rooms. Just… keep off the bed."

  “Aw, come on, it isn’t that bad,” Levac said. “The bed looks amazingly comfortable.”

  Shaking her head, Raven turned and left the room, moving across the hall and into what was obviously the guest bedroom; the set dressers from a 70s porno hadn’t had a crack at it. Judging by the empty feeling in the room and the lack of anything but a faint masculine scent, Raven was certain she would find nothing of interest in there. Wanting to be thorough, however, she completed a search of the room that turned up nothing but some old comic books stashed in the closet and some Dungeons and Dragons manuals in the desk, an odd thing for an up-and-coming accountant to have hidden away. Raven thumbed through them out of curiosity and then put them back.

  Next she moved into the large bathroom that, in some ways, matched the master bedroom. Between the sinks was a row of medicines including antacids, anti-nausea pills, and everyone’s favorite pink bottle, Pepto.

  Raven made a mental note of the items on the counter, then knelt and searched through the cabinets below. Her nose crinkled at the sight of the assortment of prophylactics and lubricants she found in two of the drawers, and she left them alone. If there was any evidence on them, the scene techs would find it and send it over.

  In the bottom drawer she found a woman’s makeup kit filled with professional-grade cosmetics and a few choice perfumes. Raven recognized names such as Smashbox, Mac, and Bobbi Brown, most of which would have cost her a week’s salary. Behind the case was a small box of tampons and pads; Raven assumed King’s lady friend had left everything behind. It was a good bet she was the same woman who had sent the notes asking to meet with him.

  Raven opened one of the more used lipsticks and sniffed at the contents, trying to memorize the scent. It was a trick she had used before to help identify and track a person she didn’t know. When she thought she had the scent, she returned the tube to the case and put everything back where she had found it.

  She returned to the master bedroom to find Levac sitting on the edge of the bed, listening to King’s voicemail. He looked up when Raven entered and waved her over.

  “You should hear these,” he said. “It sounds like King’s been missing from work for quite some time. There are a lot of messages from some guy named Drake Anderson of Anderson, Richards and Symone, the firm the vic worked for.”

  Raven smiled. “That could help us confirm when the victim was killed. When did this Anderson guy first call?”

  Levac consulted his crumpled notebook. “Monday, about two weeks ago, around noon. King didn’t report in and Anderson was wondering if he was okay and would be in later in the afternoon."

  “That fits what I found in the car’s navigation system,” Raven said. “It looks like he may have died just a short time after returning that Friday night.”

  Levac tucked his notebook into one of his copious pockets. “Returned from where?”

  “It looks like the last place he went to before he died was an address in Evanston,” Raven replied. “Maybe we should head out there and have a look around.”

  “I’m all for a road trip, but in the middle of the night? You think we will find anything?” Levac asked.

  Raven laughed and moved to look out the window at the full moon. “No," she said at last. “We probably wouldn’t find any witnesses by the time we could get there. They’d all be sleeping, and drowsy people rarely make good witnesses. Besides, I have an appointment I have to keep.”

  “Right…” Levac said, trailing off as his phone started ringing. After a quick search through his pockets to find his battered Nokia, he answered, listened for a moment, and then closed the phone. “Finkel wants to see us in the garage. His lab boys found something in the car they want us to see.”

  Knowing that Finkel wouldn't call unless he had found something interesting, they returned to the garage where the crime scene technicians were still working in earnest on King’s X6. Ryan Finkel, easily identified by his shock of white hair and hunched posture, was hovering over something on a white sheet. He was taking photographs and jotting things on the notebook he wore strapped to his thigh. Raven and Levac moved to stand next to him to see what had him so fascinated.

  Lying on the sheet were six polished bone fragments, an assortment of dried herbs, a dried chicken foot, a lock of brown hair, a piece of leather, a six-sided die, a polished silver dollar, a small wax figure, and a leather pouch.

  Levac fished in one of his spacious pockets for a chocolate bar. “Whatcha got?"

  “I am uncertain,” Finkel replied in a formal tone. “I believe it was what is referred to as a gris-gris bag. We found it under the driver’s seat of the victim’s car.”

  “A gris-gris bag?” Levac asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a voodoo talisman,” Raven replied. “They’re used for a variety of reasons, ranging from medicinal to protective. This one looks pretty involved.”

  “So what’s it doing in King’s car?” Levac asked.

  Dr. Finkel straightened and looked down his nose at Levac. “That, my dear detective, is your job. I find the clues, you piece them together. Let us keep our partnership that way."

  Raven squatted to examine the items more closely. She suspected the hair was King’s, which tied the talisman to him, as did the waxen figure. The other items puzzled her, but there often wasn’t a linear logic to the contents of a gris-gris; the spell only had to make sense to the person using it and the houngan who put the magic together.

  “Can I get an analysis of the bone and herbs as quickly as possible?” she asked. “It might help us figure out what this thing was for.”

  Finkel laughed and tapped his notebook. “I knew you would want it and already put it on the list. It will be a first priority when we get everything back to the lab."

  “Thanks, Ryan,” Raven said. “Did you find anything else of interest in the car?”

  Finkel shook his head and turned to look back at the vehicle. “Not really. We lifted a couple partials from the door handle, but they probably belong to the victim. Lots of high-speed blood spatter inside, no sign of gunshot residue…it is like he pulled into the garage and his stomach tore open.”

  Levac nodded, still staring at the contents of the gris-gris bag. “You know, Storm,” he said after a moment, “they’re right.”

  Raven looked puzzled. “Who’s right? About what?”

  “The rest of the squad,” he replied. “They were telling me you get all the weird ones. They’re absolutely right.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Old Town, Chicago’s Vampire neutral zone, glowed beneath the full moon sitting high in the cloudless night. The large section of the city included more than half of Chicago's Victorian era buildings, as well as St. Michael’s church and businesses catering to Chicago’s hidden denizens. Vampires, lycans, and wizards found both solace an
d companionship in the old buildings with their gape-mouthed gargoyles and mist-filled alleyways. Humans found a strange and inexplicable excitement, never knowing they were rubbing shoulders with monsters.

  It was after midnight when Raven parked her Shelby in front of Marie’s Curiosities, a small Victorian-style storefront with a good view of the courtyard and the distant skyscrapers. Like many of the businesses in Old Town, Marie’s was open all night and closed shortly before dawn. A bell over the door rang when she entered, disturbing a large crow perched on a brass ring in the corner. The bird screeched and bobbed its head, but didn't move from its resting place, its red eyes focusing angrily on the intruder.

  Raven ignored the bird; she had been there before and knew it was noisy, but harmless. She made her way through the rows of homeopathic remedies, jars of dried herbs and flowers, and the odd bubbling things in jars to the counter at the back of the store, where Marie, the Mambo for the city, could be found. As always, Marie slipped into the store through a beaded curtain just as Raven reached the counter. The large black woman was wearing a bright orange and white dress that stretched from her neck to her feet and, as Raven knew, covered the scars and tattoos the woman had acquired in her youth. Raven thought the dress made her look like an unlit Jack O’Lantern.

  “Good evening, Fürstin Ravenel,” Marie said, her voice musical and thick with her Creole heritage. “It is a pleasure to see you again.”

  Raven smiled. "Hello, Marie. It’s a pleasure to see you as well. Business is good?”

  The older woman waggled a hand and shrugged. “Business is business. I am here, the store is here, what else matters? Is there something I can do for you this evening?”

  Raven pulled a photo of King from her purse and laid it on the counter. “I need to know if you made a gris-gris bag for this man, perhaps a month or so ago.”