Phoenix Rising

by Theo Fenraven

  “Yeah. They’re huge right now, very popular. Lead singer

  is hot as hell.”

  “Do you really have tickets to their concert, or were you

  bullshitting Creed?”

  “I really have tickets.” She shot him a suspicious look.

  “Why?”

  “When is it?”

  “Saturday night.”

  It was Thursday. “I suppose you have a date.” “I suppose I do,” she said, eyes narrowing. “Don’t you

  dare.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t give me that innocent look. You want me to dump

  him and take you.”

  “I think I should experience them firsthand, considering

  they’re on the periphery of our cases.”

  “That is such shit.” She raced through an intersection

  on yellow. “A couple of bodies have bird tats and right away

  you’re making a connection? I would guess that general

  design is in demand right now, given how popular the band

  is, and exclusive flash or not, plenty of shops are offering

  something like it. And let me remind you, the second victim

  didn’t have one. I am sonot dumping Steve in favor of you.” Artemis grinned. “Where is this band staying? Let’s

  check them out.”

  “How the hell are you going to justify that?”

  “Call it a hunch, and I’m a detective doing legwork for a

  series of murders. They won’t say no.”

  Grumbling, she called the number Creed had provided,

  introduced herself, spoke briefly, and hung up. “That was

  too easy. The guy was über cooperative. They’re at the

  Waldorf Towers. Do you know how much that place costs? It

  costs a goddamn fortune.”

  “I guess they have one, then.” He tapped fingers on his

  knee. “It’s on our way. Let’s stop by and welcome them to the

  neighborhood.”

  “It’s not on our way, and you are not getting Steve’s

  ticket.” But she obediently turned right at the next light,

  headed for the Waldorf-Astoria.

  Chapter Three Talis

  Things are not always what they seem; the first appearance deceives many; the intelligence of a few perceives what has been carefully hidden…

  —Phaedrus

  TALIS KEHK was still abed, though awake, when his

  personal assistant, Ammon, knocked on the bedroom door and entered. Unmoving but for his lips, Talis asked, “What?” “Two police detectives wish to speak with you. They are waiting downstairs.” The PA was, as always, impeccably dressed in clean white linen, a style of dress he had taken with him when he’d left Egypt some years before.

  Talis turned his head, his striking amethyst-colored eyes meeting Ammon’s warm brown ones. “Did they say what it’s about?”

  “Murder.” Ammon said the word as if it soiled his mouth.

  Laughing softly, he pushed the covers aside and slid out of bed. He was naked, as he always slept nude, no matter what the temperature or season. Ammon was accustomed to his employer’s habits and took no notice. “I’ll shower and dress while you invite them upstairs.”

  “Breakfast?”

  “Yes, I’ll have my usual, but wait to order until they arrive. Perhaps they’d like something as well.”

  Ammon inclined his head and left, closing the door behind him.

  The rest of his group was elsewhere in the Towers, and this two-bedroom luxury suite was occupied by only Talis and Ammon. Talis required privacy, and he could afford to pay for it.

  He showered quickly, towel-dried thick hair that most often looked blond but in some lights showed subtle streaks of red, and dressed in a soft white pullover and blue jeans. He wore no underwear or shoes. He was not in the least bit nervous. The police would ask questions, he would answer them, and they would go away.

  They always did.

  AMAN and woman in plainclothes stood when Talis appeared. Ammon remained near the door, arms folded across his chest, watching closely.

  Smiling, oozing the charm for which he was noted, Talis greeted the female first. She had clipped-back auburn hair, green eyes, and a beautiful face. “I am Talis.”

  She stuck out her hand for a shake. “Detective Rachel Wayland. Nice to meet you. I’m a fan.”

  Talis shook her hand. “You’re coming to the concert Saturday?”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  He knew she was; he could tell by the pressure of her hand against his and the warmth in her lovely eyes. Talis then offered his hand to the male. “Hello.”

  “Detective Gregory.”

  He had lustrous black hair cut short, velvety brown eyes, and fair skin that showed the pale blue of beard shadow. Talis was drawn to him immediately. When he slid his hand into Talis’s, energy leaped from the detective to him in a surge so strong he nearly gasped. Gregory’s eyes widened in surprise, but whether it was because he felt something similar or was reacting to Talis’s startled expression, Talis did not know.

  The energy spike was followed by a flood of heat that swept him head to groin. He held the man’s hand longer than he should have, and for a few seconds, it was allowed, and then Gregory pulled away, brow furrowed.

  “Please… sit,” Talis said, leaving the couch to them and taking a side chair. This room boasted a fireplace, built-in bookshelves, a desk, plants, and original art on the walls. Talis usually felt comfortable there, but at the moment, he was anything but. He could not take his eyes off Gregory. “Are you also attending the concert?”

  The detective glanced at Rachel, who glared back at him. “That hasn’t been decided yet.”

  Talis didn’t know how to interpret their exchange; were they involved romantically? The thought brought him a moment of distress. If they were lovers, it would make things much more difficult. But not impossible.

  “Please attend as my guests. You can watch the show backstage or from out in front.” He looked directly at Gregory as he spoke. “I suggest the latter, as the finale is… impressive.”

  The detective gazed back without expression. “Rachel is going with a friend, but I will accept your invitation.”

  Talis was relieved. Not involved, then. “Consider it settled. Ammon will give you details as to where and what time.” He gestured to his PA and then sat back, outwardly calm but inside tightly coiled with excitement. He had to exert harsh control over his body’s desire to shift, but years of practice enabled him to exercise rigid internal command. “And now you have questions to ask me.”

  Rachel grinned. “You’re awfully polite for a famous rock star.”

  Talis raised an eyebrow. “You would prefer me to swear and spit and behave rudely?”

  “It’s what I expect from most people in your business, especially the successful ones. I’ve heard stories about them smashing shit in their hotel rooms and hitting on everyone they meet. You know, loutish acting out.”

  “You expected me to be such an asshole?”

  “I expected nothing, but I was prepared for it.”

  “I hope I haven’t disappointed you.”

  She laughed. “Not yet, but we’ve only just arrived.”

  He saw it clearly: Rachel was an instigator, attempting to stir the waters while Gregory sat back and watched. Clever, and with Talis, ineffectual. “Why don’t you assume I am an educated, intelligent man who saves less savory behavior for the stage, where it belongs?”

  “I’m liking you more and more, Talis.” Rachel crossed her legs in a manner that would, under any other circumstance, be considered seductive.

  Talis knew he unconsciously encouraged licentious behavior in those around him. That projection was part of what he was. Rachel was obviously responding to it, but Gregory… not so much. He was holding back, keeping his distance literally and figuratively. He bent his will toward the man. “Ask me…
anything,” he purred.

  Even though Rachel was not his target, he saw the color rise in her cheeks as she flushed becomingly. Gregory, on the other hand, didn’t noticeably react at all. Oh, how I love a challenge… and this one, I will win. I must.

  Gregory watched him steadily. “There was a murder last night. The victim sported a phoenix tattoo, acquired at Demon Tattoos in Times Square.” The detective pulled out his phone, slid a forefinger around the screen for a few moments, and then handed it to Talis.

  Talis bowed his golden head and saw a picture of a bird with outstretched wings. It was beautifully rendered, with lovely detail in the feathers and crest. He smiled, caught himself, realizing that expression might be considered inappropriate, and forced his lips into a straight line. “My business manager provided them with this design. It has purple eyes.” He glanced up. “Like mine.”

  “Contacts?” Gregory asked.

  “No.”

  “Uh-huh. Go to the next picture.”

  Talis did so. “This was the young man who was murdered?”

  “Donny Carlson. Recognize him?”

  Someone rapped on the front door. Everyone turned to look as Ammon asked the visitor’s identity before letting him in. A hotel employee smartly rolled in a cart loaded with various breakfast foods.

  “Would you like me to set this up at the table, sir?” the room service waiter asked, fussily adjusting a vase containing two daisies.

  Ammon shook his head. “We will deal with it, thank you.” The PA efficiently hustled the employee out before wheeling the cart into the sitting area. “Your usual, Talis?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He regarded his guests. “Help yourself. There is plenty.”

  Talis accepted a cup of very hot Turkish coffee from Ammon. A glass of cold water was also taken; it was used to freshen the mouth between sips. Rachel eyed the beverage with interest. Talis noticed and said, “Ammon, please prepare a cup for Rachel.” He looked to Gregory. “Would you like some? It is very strong but delicious.”

  Gregory ignored the question. “Do you recognize the man in the picture, Mr. Kehk?”

  “Talis, please.” He regained his seat, setting the water on a coaster on the table beside it. “And how shall I address you?”

  “Detective is fine. Please answer the question.”

  Talis sipped carefully. “I have not seen him before.” The lie rolled off his lips with practiced ease.

  Gregory grabbed his phonefrom Talis’s hand and touchscreened through more pictures before handing it back. “What about him? Jason Embry. Another of your fans. The phoenix tattoo was on his hip.”

  “Perhaps he just liked the tattoo and he was not a fan at all,” Talis suggested smoothly. He barely glanced at the photo before handing the phone back.

  Rachel broke the sudden tension between them. “Great coffee. I bet it could take the paint off the wall. If there’s any help you could give us, Talis, we’d appreciate it. Could we talk to some of your people? The rest of your group, the others who travel with you? Maybe they’ve seen something that will steer us in the right direction.”

  Talis held Gregory’s eyes. “You may speak to whomever you like. Ammon will give you any information you require to accomplish that.”

  Gregory had nothing, but he felt something; Talis could see it in the taut lines of his very attractive body and in the way he pressed his full lips together in determination.

  Rachel finished her coffee and stood. “We’ll be moving along,then. See you Saturday.”

  Talis set his cup down, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and got to his feet. “Come early. We can speak again before the concert. I will leave your names with the guards.” He very much wanted to see the detective again, however suspicious he was of Talis.

  He excused himself and returned to the bedroom, standing before the large window and looking out at the city, its straight perpendicular lines harsh beneath bright sun. He heard murmuring from the other room but no words— Ammon telling them what they wanted to know about the guys.

  Everything had changed, and all because he had met Detective Gregory. His purpose now was clear, the goal defined, if still well out of reach.

  Time was running out, but if he moved too fast, it ended. His life would be over, and he was enjoying it too much to consider giving up.

  He heard Ammon enter. “They’re gone?”

  “To interview the others, yes.” Ammon moved closer. “There was… something.”

  Talis nodded, eyes flashing. “I have found him.”

  Ammon whispered, “Your soul mate.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Talis gracefully spread his arms and slowly raised them over his head, stretching upward on his toes before relaxing, arms once more at his sides. “Find out everything you can about Detective Gregory. Where he was born, where he was raised, who his parents are, what he does for fun, who he might be seeing. Everything.”

  “As you wish,” the PA said.

  “Three more months, Ammon. Three more rotations of the moon. He must come to love me before the fourth, or I die.”

  Chapter Four Artemis

  Life is the art of being well deceived; and in order that the deception may succeed it must be habitual and uninterrupted. —William Hazlitt ARTEMIS and Rachel spent the balance of the day interviewing the rest of the band, the manager, the roadies, and assorted hangers-on such as boyfriends, girlfriends, and gofers. None of them recalled seeing any of the murder victims when they were alive and breathing. They were asked their whereabouts, and in almost every case, an acceptable alibi was given. Rachel carefully noted the few that required further checking.

  Tired and disappointed, they stopped for a late lunch/early dinner in the hotel. “Let the department pay for it,” Rachel said dispiritedly as they ordered burgers and beer. Later, they’d write up their reports and touch base with the department to catch up on what they’d missed.

  The Bull and Bear was nearly empty at this hour, and they settled gratefully into the cushioned quiet. “What did you think of him?” Artemis asked, toying with the edge of the tablecloth. The baby-shit-brown leather on their seats squeaked pleasantly as he shifted into a more comfortable position.

  “We talked to a couple dozen people today and you could be referring to anyone, so how do I know it’s Talis you’re asking about?” She smirked at him.

  Artemis had the grace to look abashed. “Yeah, well, he has a lot of… charisma.”

  She snorted. “That’s one way to put it. The guy exudes pheromones in doses far above normal. He looked at me and my brain got tongue-tied.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  She nodded. “Exactly.”

  Their beers arrived, and they drank, smiling at each other. Technically they were on duty. Technically they shouldn’t be drinking. Technically neither of them gave a shit.

  “What was that all about,” Rachel asked. “When he shook your hand.”

  He hesitated. “Not sure. Felt like static electricity. He was barefoot. Must have picked it up from the carpet.” It had been nothing like that at all. A rush had gone through him at the touch of Talis’s hand in his, and there had been a decidedly sexual element to it. Merely recalling it gave him a semi-hard, and he shifted uneasily, attempting to ease the pressure.

  “What if we’re barking up the wrong sexy singer?” Rachel said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “He’s famous, wealthy, and sexy as hell. Why would he murder anyone? Where’s the motive? And why would anyone in his group kill? The tattoos may just be a coincidence.” She cradled the frosted bottle in her hands. “Like he said, maybe they just liked the design. We didn’t find anything in the victim’s apartments that would indicate some kind of unhealthy obsession with the group or Talis.”

  “Both of them had music from Phoenix Rising in their music collection.”

  “So do I. Does that make me a suspect?”

  Artemis sighed. “Point taken.” Using a napkin to shield his fingers, he reached into his ja
cket pocket and pulled out a spoon. “Got an evidence bag on you?”

  Her eyes grew wide. “In my purse. What’s that?”

  “Noticed the room service cart in the hall and took it off Talis’s plate as we went by. I think we were on our way to interview the drummer.”

  “How do you know it was used by Talis?”

  “It was on the plate with the cup of crap he called Turkish coffee.”

  “That could have been mine.”

  “Nope. You didn’t use a spoon. You sipped, pretended it was really good, and then set it down. Spoon belongs to Talis.”

  “Goddamn, Artemis. You are one sneaky asshole, and I love you for it.”

  “I’ll drop it off tonight, ask Sherlock to run the prints ASAP.” Sherlock Jones was the department lab rat and resident evidence guru.

  “And then we’ll know.”

  He nodded, watching her carefully place the spoon in a paper bag; plastic would smear the prints. “Then we’ll know.”

  Their food arrived and both chowed down, ravenous from not having eaten all day. For several minutes, all they did was bite and chew, answering their stomachs’ prayers. Both decided one beer was enough, but they made the most of it. Afterward, sated, they lounged and continued their conversation.

  “He was totally hitting on you,” Rachel said, smiling. “I’m jealous as hell.”

  “He was studying me,” Artemis countered. “Like a bug under a microscope.” Even now, the remembered intensity of Talis’s gaze was unnerving. Was Talis attractive? Without a doubt. If they’d met under different circumstances, Artemis would have made a move. But this was a murder investigation, Talis was a possible suspect, and you didn’t foul your own nest.

  “No underwear.”

  He stared at her. “What?”

  “He wasn’t wearing underwear. That’s a statement in itself.”

  “Yeah, that he enjoys the freedom of not wearing underwear. Jesus, Rachel.”

  “Tell me you didn’t notice!”

  He couldn’t help laughing. “I noticed.”

  “Hung like a fucking horse. You should hit that.”

  “Unethical.”

  “Un-ignorable.”