Grave Beginnings (The Grave Report, Book 1)

by Virdi, R. R

  “But why? What’s going on?” She huffed in part anger, confusion and a bit of eagerness but she went and removed the fire poker like I had said.

  “Something out there is granting belated birthday wishes and I’m gonna go blow their candles!” I snarled.

  “That was the cheesiest, dumbest thing I have ever heard,” she said flatly.

  I looked at her and growled, “just shut up and drive!” I said, flinging the heavy door open and racing out.

  Chapter Ten

  “How much longer?” I grumbled.

  She turned her head and gave me a look that made me feel like I was a little impetuous child, “really? Are we really going to do this?”

  “What?” I blurted out defiantly.

  She shook her head in disbelief and muttered, “men,” like it was a curse.

  “I’m on a deadline, I can’t afford to waste time just because you can’t drive,” I snarled.

  “Excuse me?” She said, her voice taking on an edge.

  “You heard me,” I replied haughtily.

  We bantered like that for a few minutes.

  Then my forearm started to throb, I glanced down at it and suddenly realized just how time had really passed.

  Seven hours! I only had six hours left, which may seem like a lot but it’s not, I only had six hours to find and confront Norman’s killer and kill it.

  “What’s that?” said Agent Ortiz, leaning over to get a better look.

  A car horn blew loudly and she turned the wheel sharply causing the car to swerve.

  “Eyes on the road! Eyes on the fucking road!” I yelped.

  “Oh my God, calm down you pansy,” she berated, “and you fight monsters.” She said the last part disbelievingly.

  “Yeah but most monsters don’t come barreling at me with the speed and weight of an automobile!” I retorted.

  “Whatever you say tough guy,” she scoffed.

  Seriously?

  “So, what is it Norman?”

  “It’s sort of my countdown timer,” I answered.

  “Pardon?”

  “Countdown timer,” I repeated, “you know, the numbers keep going down until—”

  “Yes thank you Einstein,” she said quickly and tartly, “what is it counting down to?”

  “Oh, how much I time left to solve this case,” I replied, “when it runs out, my case is sort of over, regardless of whether I solve it or not.”

  “You…you have a…countdown magical tattoo?” she said, scarcely believing it.

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “No,” she began, “no you really don’t. That’s just, it’s not right, it’s down right weird and unnatural.”

  I merely shrugged.

  “So, what? At the end of your time limit, even if there’s a monster still left out there, you have to, what, move on?” she said, not quite believing that I could so such a thing.

  “Yes,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “And have you?”

  “No,” I said rather stonily, “never failed yet, it’s a good incentive if you think about it.”

  “Well then, let’s hurry up and make sure you keep your spotless track record Magnum P.I.”

  I snorted, “Magnum’s got it a bit easier than me, he doesn’t deal with things that have magical powers, can twist reality, ooze through walls and suck out your soul and what not.”

  “Not to mention that’s he’s fictional,” she added.

  “About an hour or two ago, you most likely thought monsters were fictional too,” I replied.

  “Yeah,” she said quietly, “good point,” she finished, looking perfectly straight ahead at the road in an eerie frozen sort of way. She looked like she was glazing out or something like that, something deep must’ve been running through her head, I gave her a bit of quiet time to process.

  She exhaled heavily and muttered, “monsters,” as a curse.

  “Yeah,” I said softly, “how are you taking it?”

  She shook her head and shut her eyes, for a quick second thankfully, she was driving and I had already had one scare in the car with her. “I don’t know how I’m taking it,” she responded, “truth be told, I think I’m still numb to it in a way, almost in denial still.” She finished with a shrug.

  “Sorry,” I whispered as apologetically as I could.

  “For what?” she asked, surprised.

  “For dragging you into all of this, for making you aware I guess, for—” I started.

  “For letting me know the truth!?” She said a bit forcefully, “for letting me know that there really are things that go bump in the night?”

  “Yes,” I said bitterly.

  “Why? What’s wrong with knowing the truth?”

  “Stop the car,” I said firmly.

  “What!?” she exclaimed.

  “Stop. The. Car.” I repeated, only much slower this time.

  “Why, I thought we were in a hurry, your countdown,” she exhaled and shook her head before continuing, “your countdown tattoo,” she said, working to force those words out. Who could blame her, I’d find saying that aloud difficult too if I were in her shoes.

  But she stopped the car though, that’s what mattered, I could make my point very clear.

  “Look there,” I said pointing to a smiling couple walking hand in hand down the sidewalk.

  “Yes, okay? What exactly am I supposed to notice?” she said confused, not quite grasping my point yet.

  “They don’t have a care in the world at the moment, that’s all they have, all they’re in, the moment.” I said. “You think they would be like that if they knew the things I knew, what you now know? That there are monsters lurking out there, well?”

  “I…I…don’t—” Ortiz stammered.

  “No, no they wouldn’t. You know how I know? Because I can’t go ten minutes without wondering what’s lurking out there, if there’s some supernatural nasty waiting for payback or to strike at some innocent bystander or me. They don’t know, thus they don’t care, their thoughts aren’t occupied with that, they can…be normal.” I finished sullenly.

  I felt a small soft hand reach out and grab mine, Norman’s, in a comfortable and reassuring grip. I looked over and saw Agent Ortiz staring at me rather intently, a look of sadness on her face.

  “I’m sorry too,” she said quietly, “sorry that you’re stuck in this life.”

  I didn’t say anything, I just looked down and my knees, no, not even my knees, Norman’s God damn knees because I didn’t have my own! I couldn’t even remember my own knees, hell, I couldn’t remember my own face, my own frickin’ name!

  “How long?” she whispered gently.

  “How long what?”

  “How long have you been doing this?” she asked.

  I shook my head, “I don’t know, I can’t remember. I don’t remember how long I’ve been doing this, years, a decade maybe, I don’t know, it’s all too blurry.” I said hoarsely.

  “You don’t even have an idea?” Ortiz said sounding extremely surprised.

  “Nope, not a clue, I remember the cases though, most of them anyways. I can’t remember the years though, it feels like forever.”

  “Some sort of amnesia or something?” she asked.

  I shrugged.

  “Anything else?” she asked.

  “I can’t remember my real name,” I told her in a hushed voice, it scared me to admit that out loud, I never had before.

  “Really? So…Norman Smith isn’t your real name then, you what, had it changed?” She asked.

  I shrugged once again, I didn’t know what to say and I couldn’t tell her the truth and apparently I couldn’t lie to her either.

  “So,” she started, “the whole museum job, is what, a cover or something like that?” she said.

  “Something like that,” I agreed with a small nod of my head.

  “Hm,” she said, biting her lower lip, I could see her going through the mental gymnastics of sorting all of this out, it must’ve been
quite the show up in her head. After a few moments of us just sitting there in quiet, she turned to me and said, “after this is over, I’m going to see if I can help you Norman.”

  I couldn’t quite look her in the eyes when I said, “thank you,” it wouldn’t have been sincere. She didn’t know that there probably wasn’t going to be an after this for her and I, after the case was done, I would be whisked out of Norman’s body and shoved into another meat suit.

  Rinse and repeat. That’s my life, or someone else life really, I just tie up the loose ends, wrap things up as it were. There really wasn’t much afterwards in the end.

  “We should get going,” I said, my voice a bit gruff, I found it hard to speak after hearing her just say she was going to help me. It was hard on me, I’ve never been done a kindness or really been offered one by a stranger before. I didn’t know how to take all of this, monsters sure, those I can deal with, run, fight and gank em.

  Kindness though? Well, that was something I wasn’t too use to, so what she said had a bit of an affect on me.

  She must’ve noticed me struggling a bit with those thoughts, she didn’t know what I was thinking but she knew it was a lot, women always do seem to pick up on that somehow. Maybe they have their own supernatural powers, who knows? She didn’t press me for anymore questions though, she left me alone to sift through my thoughts as she put the car back in drive and took off.

  We got to The Premiere Hotel promptly but the trip had still somehow managed to carve out another hour of time. My guess was that we were already on the edge of the last hour when we had left, eight down, five left to solve the case.

  No pressure.

  We hurried into the hotel and up to the front desk, at this hour it was a miracle anyone was still there, but then again, this was The Premiere, so I guess it wasn’t that surprising.

  “Hi, welcome to The Premiere,” said a sweet and sugary voice. “My name’s Stephanie, how may I help you?” said a pretty looking brunette woman in her mid thirties I’d say. Her hair was cut in a very sleek looking bob cut, a few rogue strands managed to find their way in front of her caramel brown eyes. Even has haggard as I was, what without sleep and what not, I could still notice her subtly applied make up, the cream foundation that layered and managed her skin flawlessly.

  I’m a detective first; I pick up on stuff like that.

  She stood there with a picture perfect sparkling white smile, the kind they could use in toothpaste commercials. How did they find someone this good looking to work a graveyard shift at a hotel, well considering what hotel it was, she was probably making a good deal of money for a front desk associate.

  “Yeah, hi—” I started a bit too roughly and dismissively before Agent Ortiz cut me off.

  “Hello,” Agent Ortiz began in a gentle and friendly tone, “we would like to know if we could take a look at the penthouse belonging to a Mr. Herman Burke,” she finished.

  “I uh…um,” stammered Stephanie, “I’m sorry but I can’t do—”

  Agent Ortiz apparently didn’t care what Ms. Stephanie had to say, she held up a hand, women code for shut up…. please.

  Stephanie did…

  I made a mental note that I really needed to learn that move.

  Agent Ortiz then whipped out the magical badge of a Federal Bureau of Investigation agent.

  “We know that Mr. Burke’s penthouse hasn’t been sold yet nor have the content of his home been removed either, we’re looking into the cause of his death as it could be a possible murder.”

  The word murder was enough to make poor Stephanie’s eyes widen like a little doe caught in headlights, she muttered something unintelligible and vanished beneath the front desk for a moment.

  Poor girl was probably frightened out of her mind, between the possibility of a murder and a federal agent waving a badge in your face, who wouldn’t be?

  She popped back up an instant later with a keycard. No normal metal keys here, no siree, this is The Premiere, state of the art, high class place I would probably never be able to afford a nights stay in.

  Agent Ortiz beckoned for me to follow her as she stared walking towards the elevators. I quickly raced up besides her and fell in step, “you know,” I said, “you didn’t have to scare the poor girl.”

  She didn’t respond, she just shot me a quick and challenging look I guess meant that she knew what she was doing.

  “She didn’t have to let us through,” I told her.

  “No she didn’t, but she didn’t know that either,” replied Agent Ortiz rather smugly in fact.

  “Well maybe someone should let her know she could ask to see a warrant, so next time some fed doesn’t scare the daylights out of her,” I said a bit gratingly. I knew what Agent Ortiz had done was the quickest way to get us up there but still, I don’t like seeing people get taken advantage of and especially by the government.

  “Whose side are you on? Did you forget the part about us trying to solve a murder and trying to stop a monster?” she breathed heavily.

  “Ixnay on the monsteray in public please,” I said calmly.

  “You ixnay!” she growled.

  Ok, when a woman repeats what you say and very harshly, you ixnay.

  We made it to elevator and she jammed a finger into the call down button a tad too forcefully, she was tapping her foot impatiently as we waited, her arms tightly folded in front of her.

  Yup, she was pissed.

  She turned to look at me when spoke, angrily of course, “I had to scare the girl,” she began in a defensive tone, “it kept her from thinking straight and expedited the process.”

  I let out a low whistle, “expedited huh?”

  She let out a low challenging growl.

  I shut up again.

  “Besides,” she said huffing, “ how would you have handled it?”

  “I wouldn’t have,” I said nonchalantly.

  “What?”

  “I would’ve just walked passed her, up to his home and forced my way in,” I answered.

  “You can’t do that here, electronic keycards,” she said, waving the card in front of my face to accentuate her point.

  “I can do a lot of things that you can’t,” I said matter of factly.

  I guess she took it as a challenge, it wasn’t but she didn’t know that, “oh really?” she said, her voice filled with an edge.

  I responded in a singsong voice, “anything you can do, I can do better.”

  Her teeth were grinding.

  “I can do anything better than you,” I finished singing.

  The elevator donged and she stepped in very quickly; I was under the impression that at this point she was willing to leave me behind. Actually, I think she wanted to leave me behind.

  I leapt in and whispered, “yes I can…” in a musical voice.

  I didn’t have to turn my head to know what she was doing; I could feel her glower.

  I don’t get much amusement in my line of work.

  “You’re insane,” she muttered.

  “Certifiably,” I agreed, rapping a fist against my head.

  After a few minutes of silence and of course the elevator stopping on the first few floors to let people in and out, she decided she had had enough of the peaceful quiet.

  “So…how would you do it?” she asked.

  “Do what?” I replied, thoroughly befuddled as to what the hell she was talking about.

  “Force your way in,” she said as if it were obvious.

  “Oh…that, I don’t know,” I said shrugging indifferently.

  “So you can’t do it?”

  I snorted, “I know this game and by the way yes I can, I’d have to see the door first.”

  “You’ve done this before?” she asked, trying to make it sound casual but I could detect a little something more. She was a federal agent after all and I could very well be confessing to breaking and entering.

  I kept my trap shut.

  “Let’s assume that this was a normal door, no electroni
c entry necessary, how would you do it?” she asked, I could hear the eagerness for an answer in her voice.

  “Trade secret,” I replied, brining my index finger up to my lips a bit dramatically and making a shushing sound.

  “You know,” she began, “doing those kind of things could bring you to the attention to law enforcement and more.” she warned.

  I gave her a nonchalant shrug showing her I didn’t care, I didn’t and I don’t, I really don’t.

  “Right, tough guy doesn’t care about getting caught by the authorities but has a panic attack in my car, is that it?” she said wryly.

  “Remind me how we met?” I asked her.

  She was quiet but I could her jaw working furiously.

  We were on the sixth floor by now, the elevator taking its sweet time to take us to the top.

  “How many floors are there,” I growled edgily.

  “Twelve.”

  I groaned.

  The remaining floors passed by slowly, agonizingly slow, very slow, it was just mind numbingly slow, I think you get by now it was really slow and it got on my nerves a bit.

  Dong went the elevator as we reached the twelfth and final floor where Herman’s penthouse was located. We walked down a lushly red-carpeted hall in which, unlike most hotels, had very few doors in it. Normally you’d see rows of them, each door leading rooms of varying sizes depending on what you paid for. Here however, there were only three, one presumably for each of the penthouses that were located up here.

  “Which one’s the one we’re looking for?” I asked Agent Ortiz.

  She nodded ahead, indicating at a door at the end of the hall, the last door in fact.

  I made an exaggerated bow and flourish of my hands, “after you.”

  “Nutcase,” she muttered below her breath in a tone that sounded half curse and half full of amusement.

  I followed her to the door at the end of the hall, that sounded way more ominous than it actually was.

  It was a heavy and solid looking metal door, there was nothing ornate about it, it was clearly function over form, it was built to keep things out.

  We both let out low and impressed whistles simultaneously, it was damn impressive and we both knew that the home inside could only be more mind boggling.