The smell of the liquid was energizing and the sting of the liquor Randall had mixed in was enough to motivate Kasparov to keep going. He sat and tried to enjoy the drink in quiet. After a moment his phone rang and disturbed his moment of peace. The caller ID showed Missy’s number.
“Hello.” He spoke in to the receiver. “Yes. I’ve recovered him. I had nearly forgotten. I will be there if it kills me. Yes. I think I have another one, I just need to swap the cards. I’ll bring it.”
She had called to ask if he would be at the funeral. Kasparov had nearly forgotten about it. He lit a cigarette as he let all the events of the past week roll over him. For a moment he just sat there, and then he wept. Bambi was dead, he’d been shot, his friend had been disfigured, and his car was torched.
Lofgren returned to the living room dressed and had somehow managed to look as if nothing had happened. His face was expressionless and his clothes were clean and looked to have been ironed. If not for the bandages, you would have no idea he had just been through hell.
“Why don’t you go wash up?” Lofgren said to Kasparov. “You smell awful. It is likely from Claudia’s but you really do need to shower.”
“You’re right.” Kasparov said as he extinguished his cigarette and went to shower. It took nearly a half hour for Kasparov to look human again. Blood had caked on his face and hands and refused to come off without vigorous scrubbing. The smell of death clung to his hair no matter how much shampoo he used. Under the sink Kasparov found a set of hair clippers and made quick work of removing his hair. It was a decision he immediately regretted as he realized how lumpy parts of his head looked.
After the shower he made his way to the guest room for his bag. He pulled a set of clothes from the bag and got dressed. Looking in the mirror he was glad to see he looked more or less like himself again. He pulled two holsters and two guns from the sack as well as extra clips for both. He secured one to his belt before taking the other one to Lofgren.
“Thanks.” Lofgren said as he fastened his weapon to his belt. “I was just telling Randall about what had happened.”
“It’s insane what you two have gone through in the last couple of days.” Randall exclaimed with a look of shock and horror.
“Bambi’s funeral is in a few hours and none of us slept last night. It may be a good idea to take a nap and get whatever rest we can. Lofgren the back bedroom is open if you want to lie down. I’ll take the couch. Thanks again Randall. I hope we didn’t spoil your night. Melissa looked like fun.” Kasparov said to his friends.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m just glad you guys are ok. I’m going to get some rest.” Randall answered as he turned and made his way to his room. Lofgren retired to bed shorty after leaving Kasparov alone. For some time he stared at the ceiling afraid to sleep. It wasn’t long after he laid down that Randall was waking him by telling him to get ready. He must have dosed off after all.
The men silently prepared for the funeral. Lofgren redressed quickly and found one of Randall’s books to read. Kasparov spent little time putting his clothes on but sat for several minutes staring in to his reflection trying to figure out what to do. He knew he had to go to the funeral and hoped Claudia wouldn’t be there. If she were, he didn’t know what would happen.
The ride to the gravesite was somber and silent. Kasparov accepted this would be the last time he saw Bambi’s face. He knew that Randall had been her friend as much as his, but Lofgren had only just met her. It saddened him to think that his partner had never had a chance to really know her. As they pulled up to the graveyard, it was apparent that Marian and the girls had been whipped in to a bit of frenzy.
Kasparov asked Randall to let him out so he could investigate. He made his way across the grass to Marian to try to figure out what had happened. The man had a penchant for the dramatic, but he usually didn’t get too out of hand and he didn’t think his friend would cause a commotion here. As he approached the group, Missy stopped Kasparov.
“You don’t want to go over there.” She said gesturing at Bambi’s gravesite service.
“Like hell I don’t!” Kasparov exclaimed.
“Bambi’s bitch of a mother doesn’t want us around their perfect princess.” Marian yelled loud enough for the people Bambi’s mother had invited to hear. “She was family to us; we cared about her more than that horrible cunt did.”
“We are going to pay respects no matter what that woman says. Nothing is going to keep me from my Bambi’s funeral. Not even that judgmental bitch!” Kasparov assured him as Randall and Lofgren joined the group.
“Oh my word!” Marian yelled as he ran over to Lofgren as soon as he noticed the bandages on his hand and eye. “Oh you poor dear. They really did a number on you didn’t they. Don’t worry you can come stay with Old Marian. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of in every way you can imagine and some you can’t.”
“I’m sure I’ll be ok.” Lofgren said with little comfort. “What’s causing the trouble?”
“They don’t want us at her funeral.” Missy told him.
“The pretentious pricks!” Marian yelled at the group. It seemed to be the last straw for Bambi’s mother who looked to be apologizing to her guests before storming over to Marian.
“Look here you little fucking faggot!” She said with spite. “Bernadette had no business dealing with you or your whores. If she hadn’t been doing what you pushed her to do she would be in school, or have a career. This is your fault.”
“Excuse me.” Kasparov interjected. “Your daughter was murdered by a crazed cult member. It was unrelated to her being a performer. If you paid more attention to the message my department left you, or our conversation last night, would know that.”
“You’re that man from last night. Yes. I remember you now. You came in to her house and stole something from her. I saw you put that box in your pocket and leave. What was it? Drugs? You are a sorry excuse for an alleged cop.” She replied as she looked at him with disdain.
“You really want to know what it was.” Kasparov shouted. He grabbed Lofgren’s arm and held up his hand pointing at the injured finger. “My partner’s fingertip was cut off and placed in her home attached to a key to my apartment. The god damn nutjobs that killed your daughter had been torturing him and making me follow a trail of his body parts to find him. None of that matters to you though does it? All you care about is that you can paint Bambi to be a perfect little princess. You already kicked me out of her home, now you’re trying to keep me from this. Fuck you, lady!”
“You’re a very sick man aren’t you?” She asked with disgust.
“Lofgren lost an eye, and more just last night. I had to play the most fucked up game of hide and seek in existence and saw things that I can’t unsee. Then after escaping we found my car torched. I spent all fucking night patching this unlucky bastard up and still managed to make it here. Where, I might add, we are vulnerable. That group knows what Bambi was to me and I came anyway so I don’t give a fuck if you want me here or not.” Kasparov yelled with tears in his eyes.
“Fine.” Bambi’s mother shouted. She had finally agreed to let them near the site. “But understand none of you are wanted.”
Kasparov had to stand with the others behind the people seated. The extra chairs had been quickly removed to try and discourage the group from joining the handpicked false mourners. He didn’t care. Nothing was going to keep him from being there as Bambi was lowered in to the ground.
The service was generic and showed a lack of understanding toward who Bambi really was. They painted her in a way that covered up some of the best and all of the worst of her. It filled Kasparov with such a rage that within the first fifteen minutes he had lost his composure. He walked to the front of the group of mourners as her mother was offering a closing prayer to say what he felt needed to be said.
“Excuse me, I have something to say.” Kasparov interjected.
“You will go back to where I told you to stand young man.” Bambi’s mother s
aid sharply.
“I will say what I have to say and nothing you can do will stop me.” Kasparov retorted.
“Like hell you will!” She shouted back.
“This is public property. I have a right to be here! I knew her better than anyone. You might be ashamed of who she was, but the people who knew the kind of person she was, well, we aren’t.” Kasparov yelled back.
“Why you little-.” She started.
“Let the man talk. I have seen you run around like you’re some sort of high society elite ever since we got here. You wonder why you’re lonely. As Bernadette’s father I want to hear what this boy has to say. So, shut up and sit down you man eating bitch.” Bambi’s father interrupted. Kasparov had never met him and regretted it in that moment. Perhaps after all was said and done, he could look him up and talk about his daughter.
“Bambi would have hated this service.” Kasparov began. “For starters, she hated roses. About two years ago, she had just gotten out of jail for possession. It had been a short sentence of only a few weeks. When she got out she called me to yell at me for arresting her. Typically I don’t betray my friends, but she had a drug problem and locking her up was the only way I could help her. I felt so bad for doing what I knew I had to do that I went out and bought her a few dozen roses. When I got to the club with them she immediately threw them in the trash. I was a bit upset about it and later that night, after hours, I sat with her as she cleaned up. I asked her why she threw them out. She told me that roses require no thought. If you bring roses the woman means nothing, and the more roses you bring the less unique you find her. A single tulip was her favorite. No one ever thinks to bring a tulip, and to bring one meant that she was the only one.
“She wasn’t a gifted student that never found her calling. She was a brilliant woman who managed to make a great deal of money doing something she came to love to do. Anyone who knew her would tell you that when she was on stage she was untouchable. I have never known a person with the drive and ambition of my Bambi. That girl could have run a business in a second. She had even planned one out awhile back. The only thing that stopped her was herself. She knew she would be miserable behind a desk all day.
“I loved that woman. She was one of my best friends. Bambi had a spirit that couldn’t be broken. She was loud, disagreeable, and rude, but she loved her friends and even her shitty family that looked down on her. I know all about all the friends you tried to set her up with. I hope you know that she hated them. Every time she went out with a group of the people you wanted her to know she would come home and call me to complain about them. She hated it more than she hated roses and desk jobs.
“I guess what I am trying to say, is that Bambi is perfectly imperfect. She was a flawed woman who had accepted who she was. Bambi never needed anyone to validate her. She didn’t rely on anyone but herself. If I had to describe her in one word I would say she was a goddess. Beautiful, petty, jealous, and strong. Bambi isn’t an angel. Angels aren’t real; they are a false hope for some purity to impose on someone when they die. Bambi was so much more than that and to hear you up here talking about her the way you do, tells me you didn’t know her at all. Remember her as she was. Do her that justice at least.”
XIV.
Lofgren watched as Ms. Hodge’s mother began yelling at Kasparov again for interrupting her closing prayer with lies about her perfect daughter. They carried on for several minutes before she took her hand across his partners face. He immediately went to stand beside Kasparov who had refused to strike her back. He continued to insist he was right and she made to slap him again. This time Lofgren caught her arm.
“I would suggest you refrain from striking him.” He said to her dryly.
“Why should I?” She spat at him.
“He is a police officer who enforces the laws in this town and recently helped bring justice to Ms. Hodge by bringing her killer to justice.” Lofgren began. “On top of that, I am a federal agent and I will gladly see you arrested for assaulting a police officer.”
“Go to hell all of you. Bernadette was a good girl before she met you freaks. She had dreams and ambitions and you killed her!” She screamed at them.
“Bambi was happy. She didn’t want to be the girl you wish she was. The sooner you understand that, the sooner she can rest in peace.” Kasparov retorted.
“Leave here now. Or I will have you removed.” Bernadette’s mother warned.
“I will not leave her this way. Not until she is lowered in to the fucking ground.” Kasparov said to her defiantly as he walked away and sat on the ground behind the casket. Lofgren didn’t quite know what to do with him. He seemed a bit stubborn, but this was more than that. He watched as Kasparov lit a cigarette and lay back on the cemetery grass. They had come to pay their respects, and they had done so. This display of defiance seemed like a waste of time to Lofgren. Thirty minutes later Ms. Hodge had been lowered in to the plot and many of the guests had left. A few people including her mother hung around to talk amongst themselves. Randall came over after talking with Diamond.
“We’re all heading to Marian’s for a memorial for Bambi. He says he wants to do it right.” Randall told Lofgren. “You in?”
“I’m afraid we have too much work to do. I know he will want to go, but we really can’t afford to. We have already wasted too much time. It’s time we get back to work.” Lofgren replied.
“You have to be one of the most bad-ass people I’ve ever met, Lofgren!” Randall exclaimed.
“Why?” Lofgren asked laughing. He hadn’t expected that.
“First you get kidnapped, kind of. Then, you get your eye cut out, a finger ripped off, a tooth torn out, and cut up everywhere. Kasparov helps you escape, you get awful medical treatment in my bathroom, and already you’re ready to go back to work.” Randall replied in awe.
“It was only part of my finger.” Lofgren replied dryly before leaving Randall’s side. He needed to get away from here and to the hotel. There was no assurance that it was safe, but all of his weapons were in his room. If they stood a chance against Claudia and her men, they would need every one of them. He approached Kasparov and looked at his partner. The man had tears in his eyes and a cigarette hung limply from his mouth. It was hard to look at.
“It’s time to go, Scott.” Lofgren ordered.
“I know.” Kasparov said as he sat and stared in to the pit that held Ms. Hodge’s casket.
“I know it hurts. I wish I could say it gets better. It would be a lie.” Lofgren tried to comfort Kasparov as best he could. “You will simply have to learn to live with it.”
“I know.” Kasparov replied still motionless.
“Come on.” Lofgren said offering his hand to Kasparov to help him off the ground.
“Ok.” Kasparov replied as he grabbed Lofgren’s hand and hoisted himself up. The two men walked out to the front of the graveyard and managed to catch a cab that had been intended for one of the false mourners. After giving the driver instructions they sat silent until they arrived at the hotel and went upstairs.
Before entering the room Lofgren checked for signs of entry. He had placed a small slip of paper in the door crevice that would have fallen if opened. It remained in place. He also checked the door knob. Wedged under the “Do Not Disturb” sign was a piece of led from a pencil. Had the handle been grasped, it would have fallen. It also showed no signs of being moved.
Inside everything seemed to have been undisturbed. Lofgren quickly located four pistols and their holsters. They were going to need them in the upcoming raid and normal bullets were almost useless to them against Claudia and her men. He handed two sets to Kasparov and fastened the other two to his own belt. Each pistol had been outfitted with a clip full of silver bullets. He had several other clips ready to be switched out if it had become necessary.
“Did you ever intend to arrest Claudia and her men?” Kasparov asked as he understood the planning required to have as many firearms and other needed items on hand as he did.
“How could you come at a case with intent to kill? How does it make you any different?” Kasparov replied.
“I don’t want to kill anyone if I can help it. Unfortunately, these people aren’t normal. Whether or not you believe that they are vampires or not, you have seen the brutality they are capable of.” Lofgren answered.
“I suppose that’s true.” Kasparov said with acceptance.
The two men worked diligently to grab anything that might help them when they raid Claudia’s building. Lofgren made sure to grab a few throwing knives as well as the extra clips he had stashed under the mattress. He watched as Kasparov collected protective gear and secured it in the trunk that sat open in front of the bed.
Kasparov stepped outside to light a cigarette and call another cab while Lofgren checked his e-mails. He had received one from the office back home and opened it immediately. He had not heard from them since his arrival and was eager to hear what they had to say about the information he had sent them. Unfortunately, the message that awaited him had little to do with the investigation. They had let him go on the case to keep him away from the office so they could easily discuss his termination. The supernatural accusations had given them reason enough to end his employment. They had already sent his personal effects to his home residence. Attached to the e-mail was a brochure for a psychiatrist who had been pretty popular with some of the other members of his office.
Lofgren hung his head. He knew that he was right about Claudia and her men. He had seen it. If the department couldn’t back him up, he didn’t need them. He could always find a new job. Without the agency behind him, he knew he had no grounds to continue the investigation or to participate in the take down, but he had worked too hard for this. If he was honest, he wasn’t here for them anyway. Kasparov walked back in to the room and saw Lofgren sitting silently.
Yearling Investigation Archives (Book 1): Sanguine Page 14