“I know where this is. We’ll take my car.” I didn’t argue because I didn’t have enough cash for a cab anyway.
“Alright, let me just tell LeBron goodbye.”
Chapter Two
The house I was called to couldn’t be seen from the road. We were stopped at the mouth of a winding drive by two uniformed officers who were more than a little cold. I leaned out my window to show them my identification and waited while they radioed up to the house. These days you can’t always just trust a badge. People can make them in their basements with just a computer and a laminator. Also, some city police had problems with paranormal or private investigators snooping around their crime scenes. I prided myself on the fact that, nine times out of ten, I was invited to join the party.
DJ sat behing the wheel, one hand on it and the other tapping the gear stick as the jeep idled. The radio buzzed and we were waved through. DJ pulled forward, taking the drive up to the house at a Dukes of Hazzard speed, expecting to skid in when we reached the end. The frontage was lit up by a bright porch light and the silent flashing beams of squad car lights. Someone should tell them that leaving the lights on drains the battery.
The house was a grandiose victorian, red brick with high arched windows and a large, white porch with corithian columns. He pulled up level with the porch, spraying gravel.
“Thank you for dropping me off.”
“I’ll wait for you,” he said putting on the hand brake and turning the engine off. I placed my hand over.
“I don’t know how long this will take. Go back to the wedding.” He looked at me levelly. The look men give when they think a woman is silly. I get this look a lot and recognized it.
“And how will you get home?” I opened my mouth, then closed it. He turned his hand under mine and the engine cut out. He looked at my hand still over his. I started pulling it away, but he grabbed it and held it with both of his.
“Don’t pull away. That’s the longest you’ve touched me since I declared my intentions.” I had the strength to pull my hand back and forced him to either let me go or hurt me to keep hold of me. He didn’t fight me.
“We were friends before this.” He looked wounded and I was abruptly tired with his attitude. I didn’t want to date him. I had the right not to, but it made it really hard to be friends with him when his intentions made me uncomfortable.
“I don’t fuck my friends,” I said a little angrily as I reached for the door handle.
“Who do you then? Because its not your enemies!” I pushed the door open and got out of the car.
“I am not having this conversation again. Go back to the wedding or go home. Just go!” I slammed the car door on his reponse and headed towards the house. I didn’t hear the car start up. By the time I was in the door with it shut behind me, I just didn’t care. I leaned against the door, taking deep breaths and letting myself calm down. I was so quick to anger these days, especially with DJ.
“Aren’t you a tad over dressed?”
I looked across the hallway to see Ro standing in a doorway, in her little silver suit. Doctor Ororo Soltaire was the night shift forensic scientist that I most often met at crime scenes. She was a woman who favored alternative clothing, kept her black hair pixie short and her skin lightly tanned. I liked her.
“I wasn’t planning on a crime scene tonight, just a wedding.”
“Oh, whose getting married?”
“LeBron from PCU. We’re friends, so I got to be a bridesmaid.”
“He must be a really good friend to get you to wear that.”
“That’s the popular opinion, but I think maybe it’s time to re-evaluate his status.” Ro smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. Something was bothering my friend.
“What’s wrong? I mean apart from the dead person in the next room.” She weighed me with her eyes, wondering whether or not she could push me off. She sighed, giving in to her urge to tell the truth.
“Do you remember November’s father?” I thought about it and growled lowly.
“I distinctly remember a jackass.”
“Jackass is right. All that fuss about being part of November’s life. I called to remind him about coming to her birthday last week and he completely draws a blank. Says he and his wife are looking into adopting a baby of their own and he’d prefer if I and November didn’t spoil that.” She bent down over her crime scene kit and I grimaced. It was my fault. I used magic on him to make him go away, planted the suggestion that he adopt rather than try every underhanded method under the sun to steal Ro’s daughter from her. I know, I know. Who died and made me boss? Some days, like today, I felt bad about what I did. Other times, I felt I did the right thing.
“I’m sorry if that hurt Novemeber, but you and I know its probably for the best. He wouldn’t have settled. He’d have kept trying to find a way to take her away from you.” She looked up at me and I realized I might have over played my hand a little.
“How can you know that?”
I thought about telling her I couldn’t, or that he just seemed the type to keep pushing to get his own way, but a while ago I promised myself I was going to stop lying to people.
“I saw him again after I left your lab. He followed me, approached me about testifying against you, saying you were dabbling in dark magic so he could build a case against you as an unfit mother.” She stood straight up, placing her hands on her hips.
“And?”
“I told him to take a hike. That just ‘cause you weren’t there to see his second face didn’t mean he hadn’t offically blown his one chance.”
“So he just went away?” I felt a knot in my stomach as I tried thinking of a lie. I chided myself. I wasn’t going to do that anymore.
“There may have been some magic involved.”
“Cassandra!” She said my name the way my mother used to and I looked appropriately sheepish. It hadn’t been one of my finest moments. I admit that to myself, but damn it, I still felt like it was the thing that needed to be done.
“I was protecting you. He was hell bent on evil and now he’s not. He’s back to being his normal don’t want to be involved ass hat self. I won’t apologize for it.” I thought I might if she really pushed for one, but I could probably say the words and still not mean them. She shook her head at me.
“What if he remembers whatever it is you did? What if he reports you?”
“Let him. Wizards council have no power over me,” I said proudly, then mumbled to myself, “they never did.” I let Ro stand there for a few moments while I deposited my clutch next to her kit and dug out a pair of gloves.
“Is there a lot of blood?” I asked. I didn’t like blood, but I was getting used to the sight of it. I was sure that said something bad about me. I tried telling myself I was like an emergency room doctor in that way. I couldn’t let it bother me. I had to see past it to save lives.
“No. None actually,” said Ro, unfreezing from her stance. “I’ll show you through.”
I followed beside her, fitting the gloves over my slender fingers and letting them snap against my skin with an audible thwap. Ro led the way to a formal dining room.
A dark wood banquet table stretched the middle of the room. Silver candle sticks with pale white candles burned down to stumps were interspaced its length and a feast sat on silver plates. Many chefs worked for hours to feed hundreds of people. There were fountains of chocolate, many types of cakes, whole turkeys, sides of beef, potatoes, grapes, cheese, and bowls of fruits and nuts. Heat still rose from freshly baked rolls in wicker baskets beneath each candle stick. A whole suckling pig with a rosy red apple stuck in its mouth sat on a platter in the middle. All of it warm, untouched, unnatural and drool worthy. I never saw so much food outside of a werewolf gathering. The table brimming with tasty delights was odd because there was only one place setting. I saw one chair at the end of the room and started towards it half fearing I’d see Guillermo del Toro’s pale man. I prayed no one had eaten anything.
A dead man sat tightly wedge
d in the chair. His belly and face were bloated and he looked like he died chewing a mouthful. His cheeks puffed out like a hamster carrying food from one place to another. He wore a black tuxedo with the top buttons of the shirt undone and a bowtie hung down one the jacket’s lapel. His eyes were rolled back into his head. He looked like Mister Creosote from Monty Python. Hamilton came in from another room looking at his notepad.
“Any idea what killed him yet?”
“I’m going to have to wait for the autopsy,” said Ro, bending down to scrape under his nails.
“I’ll bet you ten it was the wafer thin mint.” Hamilton looked up from his notes at the sound of my voice, took in my appearance and smiled.
“You look good,” he said as his eyes went for a second appraisal. Paris Hamilton, homicide head detective, was a handsome man, and knew it. He could be very charming when he wanted and had a soft spot for a damsel in distress. He is a good man and a good detective. Even though, I was aware he could be an ass too. I didn’t like him when I’d first met him, but he grew on me…like fungus.
“Hello Hamilton. What do you want me to look at first?” His cop face became serious and he waved me over to where he’d just come through.
“Follow me. You need to see some other rooms before you judge this one.” I walked around the body in a wide arc, avoiding the smell. Death is never pretty and Crime Scene Investigation does not emphasize the smells.
On the other side of the curtains was a kitchen. The work surfaces were spotless. All the utensils were in their places, and there were no dishes in the sink or dishwasher on the other side of an island. I put my hand over the stovetop and feeling nothing, I touched the hotplate to find it was stone cold. Hamilton opened the fridge. It was fully stocked with mostly healthy meals for one.
“Okay, I can see this is odd.”
“That’s not it yet. This way.” He led me out another door to the long corridor connected to the hall. Behind the staircase that led to the first floor was another set leading down. An officer came up from the lower level carrying a box. He nodded at Hamilton and continued round and down the hall with his cargo. Hamilton led the way down the stairs. I held up the hem of my dress so not to accidently step on it and fall. The basement room was lined with mirrors and all the space between was filled with gym equipment. Hamilton let me look around the room and I was drawn to a cork board with pictures of a fat teenage boy pinned to it. I looked them over carefully. There were definite facial similarities between the boy and the man upstairs. A full fridge and a well-used gym were unusual pieces to the puzzle.
“What was in the box?”
“More photos and some certificates, it was all sitting there under the table,” he said pointing to a small corner where there was a massage table. “All fat boys. Maybe he had a fetish.”
“These,” I said tapping the cork board, “are all the same boy at different stages of adolescence. I think they might be him.”
“Alright, let’s say they are all pictures of him. What are they doing in this room?” I looked at him and shook my head. I bet Hamilton had always been slim and attractive, never had a self-image issue in his life, and always had enormous amounts of self-confidence.
“Motivation. The man upstairs, despite his condition now, is a much thinner man than in these pictures. I had a friend in high school that would take a picture of herself when she put on a few pounds and stick it to the fridge. Every time she went for a snack, she was put off by it.” He nodded with a knowing smile, testing me. He flipped his notebook open again.
“According to his house keeper who found him, he was very health conscious. He worked out a lot and monitored his calorie intake very strictly. He went mad if he so much as put on a pound and would eat nothing but broth for days till he lost it.” He flipped it shut looking at me.
“There is nothing worse than a thin person who used to be fat when it comes to weight.” Hamilton nodded, as if he understood what I meant. He turned back to the stairs. I followed him up and we went back to the room with the body. Ro had pulled the body away from the table, and with the help of another tech in a silver suit, was sawing off the chair’s arm to release the body. I watched them with morbid fascination. Hamilton touched my arm and I jumped by its tiny electric jolt. He rubbed his hand on his coat.
“Sorry, static. Take a look at this.” He lifted a plate with a bunch of white and red grapes from the table. He tipped its contents onto the floor and then replaced the plate on the table. The air shimmered for a moment above the empty plate. It was abundantly piled with grapes again a second later. I looked at the floor and saw the grapes he’d dumped still there.
“That’s magic if I ever saw it,” said Hamilton, watching my face drift between the plate and the floor.
“Yes. Any sign that he’s a wizard?”
“Nope. House keeper says he’s a lawyer and we’ve searched the house. No occult paraphernalia.” I looked back at the man in his chair as Ro snapped the arm off and leaped back as his body fell out of it and almost on top of her. Her assistant covered his laugh with a cough.
“Get the gurney,” she snapped. Appropriately chastened, he slunk off to do her bidding.
“So this was something done to him?” I asked, clarifying what Hamilton was thinking as I turned my eyes back to him.
“That’s what I want you to help me be sure of. I mean it’s a pretty strange way to end a man. If it’s the food that’s killed him, Ro’s taken samples to see if it’s poison.”
“It’s a big risk,” I said looking over the tasty treats, “unless you don’t care about collateral damage.” He nodded.
“House keeper didn’t touch any of it and he lives alone. He’s got an ex-wife. We’ll talk to her in the morning.”
“I’d feel better if we didn’t leave it lying around. I think I can end the enchantment.”
“Be my guest,” he said, extending his arm to indicate the table was all mine. Spells that replicated like this need a charm, an object imbued with magic to sustain the spell. Something on the table acted like a power source or an epicenter. I scanned the objects on the table looking for something that stuck out. A red shimmer caught the corner of my eye and I was drawn to the table’s center piece. I focused using my power, like sending out sonar, to see what it would bounce off of, what created an echo of magic. I reached out my hand and slowly plucked the ruby red apple from the pig’s mouth. All the food, plates, and candle sticks turned to dust. It tumbled into the air, forcing both of us away from the table coughing.
“Detective Hamilton, you might want to see this,” called Ro from the other side of the swirling vortex. We walked carefully around the end of the table towards the sound of her voice, batting at the cloud and pushing it away. She was examining something on the dead guy’s forehead. I tried keeping the dress from touching him as I squatted down next to his head. There was a symbol glowing from within his flesh with a strange, orange light. I slowly reached out to trace it with my finger, but touching it was a mistake. I felt a blow to the gut by a giant fist, and I swear a familiar, wicked grin danced behind my eyelids. A hand on my shoulder shook me. I opened my eyes to look at Hamilton.
“Are you alright? How do you feel?” It took the longest time for me to think about that. How did I feel? I felt, hungry. I looked at the apple in my lap. Its surface gleamed with a red light. I knew, I don’t know how, that if I put the apple back on the table, all the food would reappear. Then I could eat my fill. I shook my head pushing the feeling away. Food had never been a problem for me, and it wouldn’t be now just because some sly voice whispered in the back of my head.
“Cassandra? Speak to me.”
“Temptation,” I said. It took me twice to say it, my tongue feeling very heavy in my mouth. I held up the apple. “The original temptation.” Hamilton looked at me blankly. He didn’t get it. “I guess it’s not something widely known if you’re not a Christian,” I continued with a sigh and pulling myself into a more dignified sitting position. “T
he apple is the symbol of the fruit that the snake talked Eve into eating from the tree of knowledge. I have no idea how the snake could talk as I’ve never read it, and I doubt that Eve was a parcel tongue.”
“That’s Harry Potter, so we know that’s not real,” he said laughing. I looked at his face, and for the first time, I didn’t believe him. After all that he’s seen around me and I’ve told him, it was unfathomable that he didn’t think there could be people who talked to snakes. Paris Hamilton was playing dumb. I stared at him for the longest time. I think that made him uneasy because he pulled back, stood and offer me help back to my feet, rather than meet my accusatory gaze. There was a strange moment when I took his hand and his eyes read “leave it alone”. I ignored it for now, but the elephant had walked into the room and was prepared to take up residency. The mark faded from the dead man’s head.
“Do you know what that mark is?” Hamilton asked in his official police voice. That voice, an erected shield around him. No one challenged him when he acted as the enforcer of law.
“No but I can research, get back to you on it.” I held the apple out towards Ro. “Baggy, please.”
She pulled up a bag and I dropped the offending morsel into it.
“I don’t know how safe that is,” I warned her. “Don’t leave it naked on a table and do not eat it.”
“It’s evidence,” said Ro, sealing the bag and looking slightly offended.
“I know that, but its magic, evil magic, and I want you to be extra careful.” She nodded and taped the bag shut, writing careful instructions on the label. I took another wide arc around the body, edging closer to the hall door.
“I need some air,” I said nonchalantly, making a beeline for the exit and snatching up my clutch as I passed it. I was outside before I realized Hamilton had followed me out. I leaned against one of the columns and breathed in the late October air.
“So how was the wedding?” he asked, smiling once again at my bridesmaid dress. So we were going to be social now. Alright, I could play along.
Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) Page 3