Once Upon A Midnight

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Uhm, thanks.” Eric leaned away from the man and bumped shoulders with the banger. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay, money.” The guy licked his lips. “I don’t mind.” He looked at Eric’s tux. “Nice threads.”

  Oh, Jesus. He had to find a way to dampen his mojo and fast.

  “Mr. Bishop,” the intake officer said. “You’re lawyer is here.”

  When he undid the cuffs, Eric rubbed his wrists and stood quickly. He purposefully kept his eyes forward, avoiding an uncomfortable goodbye with his bench-mates.

  ***

  “ARE THEY CRAZY?” Charlie asked. “Eric wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

  Charlie was all of five-five, sandy blonde hair in a tight ponytail, and curves for days. Mina had envied Charlie when they’d been in high school. She’d been the popular cheerleader while Mina had taken on the role of gothic sasquatch. It had sucked being taller than ninety-percent of the boys in school. Her friend had a kindness streak that often irritated Mina, but is also what made her love the woman so much.

  In middle school, Charlie had noticed Mina hadn’t eaten lunch three days in a row. Mina had been desperate enough that when the pipsqueak gave her half her sandwich and all of her fruit cup, she’d devoured it. After that, Charlie brought an extra sandwich, fruit, and drink to school every day. Later, Mina found out that when Charlie had asked her mother for extra food, her mother never even questioned why. She trusted Charlie to have her reasons. Trusted those reasons were good. It was the kind of family they were. The kind of family that Mina feel welcome as a member. And now one of those members was in trouble. She would fix this. She wouldn’t let her best friend down.

  She put her arm around Charlie’s shoulders, pushing aside her tied back hair. “I’m trying to figure out if they’re going to press charges or not. They haven’t yet, so that’s a good sign.” About that time, Eric was paraded across the station lobby in handcuffs, escorted by two officers.

  Yikes. Not good.

  Charlie saw him and panicked. “Eric! Eric!”

  He turned and looked at her. His eyes were gaunt with dark circles shadowing under them. Charlie tried to make a dash for him, but Mina grabbed her arms.

  “Why is he handcuffed? Where are they taking him?” Charlie cried.

  Mina knew where they were taking him—in-processing. He’d be printed, photographed, and then put in a holding cell. She saw John Stokes, a detective, and an old friend. He’d helped her out over the past couple of years, and in turn, when she heard any information that might help him on a case, she reciprocated. “Stay here. I’m going to find out what’s going on.” She left Charlie and walked to John.

  “Hey, Stokes,” Mina said. “How’s it going?”

  John looked up and smiled. Even with slightly crooked teeth, not quite white from years of smoking, it was warm and infectious. “Hey, Mina-bird. Second time this week at the station. This getting to be one of your regular haunts? Or you just looking for an excuse to see me?”

  Mina smiled. A friendly face was a definite plus at this point. “Just looking for any excuse. You know me.” She kissed his cherub cheek. “I was hoping you could help me.”

  “What? No how’s the husband? How’s the kid? Just bing-bang-boom, can you help me?”

  “Okay.” She grinned at him. “How’s Richie? How’s the kid? Now, can you help me?”

  John smiled. “Richie’s doing great. Rachel is four now, and she gets into everything. We’re working on number two with our surrogate now, which you’d know if you ever bothered to accept a dinner invite. And yeah, I’ll try and help. Whatcha need?”

  Sometimes, Mina really loved John. “Congrats on the new baby.” She gave him a hug, then put on a serious face. “Eric Bishop. They just took him down for processing. What’s going on?”

  The smile faded from John’s face. “That’s Doyle’s case, Mina. You’d better ask him.”

  “I don’t think he’s in the mood to answer any of my questions. Besides, I’m asking you.”

  “Well…” He hesitated. “I don’t know about this, Mina. Doyle can be a bear. I could get in some deep shit for discussing this case with you.”

  She didn’t correct him by saying, no not a bear—a lion. Stokes, much like 99.9% of the human race had no idea about other worlders. “Come on, John. Who am I going to tell?”

  John tapped his finger on the counter several times, looked around, and in a quiet voice, said, “Bishop consented to a fingernail scraping.”

  “What! Where was his lawyer?”

  “Keep it down.” John rubbed his fingers through his thinning hair. A look of guilt passed over his face. “He consented before his lawyer arrived. It tested positive for blood, Mina. Doyle figures that’s enough to hold him until forensics gets back with their detailed report.”

  “He admitted that he touched the body,” she whispered to John. “That shouldn’t be enough to hold him.”

  “It is for Doyle.

  “Damn it.”

  “Yeah, tough break, Mina,” John said.

  She nodded and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, John.” She hugged him again. “You’ll let me know if you hear anything?’

  “I will.”

  “You’re the best. Give Richie hugs and kisses for me.”

  John smiled. “Will do.”

  A strident voice drew her attention. It belonged to a slick guy in a blue three-piece suit who exuded maximum confidence. He was talking to Gav Doyle, who’d appeared without Mina noticing.

  “Unless you plan to formally charge him, Mr. Bishop is walking out with me.”

  “I can hold your client for seventy-two hours, Mr. Barnes, without charging him,” Gav told him.

  The man, Barnes, pulled out his cell phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and said a few quiet words that Mina couldn’t hear. After, he handed the phone to Gav.

  “Hello.” Whoever was on the other end caused her ex to blanch. “Yes, sir. I understand perfectly.” Gav handed the phone back to Barnes. Gav instructed the police officer to get Eric. The uniform headed toward the processing area.

  “You are not to talk to my client again unless I am present, Detective. Do I make myself clear?”

  “I don’t give a shit if your client is related to the president of the goddamned United States. If he’s guilty, I’m taking him down. Do I make myself clear?”

  Barnes offered a toothy smile. “I see we’re on the same page, Detective.”

  A uniformed officer led Eric into the room and released him to his lawyer. Gav watched them walk to Mina and Charlie, his furious gaze lingered on hers.

  ***

  BARNES HAD GIVEN Eric last minute instructions—like keeping his mouth shut and not agreeing to anything the police asked him until he ran it by Barnes first—and, after, handed him over to Charlie and Mina. It was nearly three-thirty when they got him back to his loft down on the Plaza. Mina had already figured out that their boy was rich and well connected, but his loft, oh man, it was a work of art.

  She whistled softly. “Wow,” she finally managed. Humble beginnings didn’t always lead to humble ends.

  The floor plan was open. In one corner, a king-sized bed was mounted on a large platform surrounded by stainless steel uprights and large glass panels. A glass block wall was next to it, which Mina could only assume was the bathroom since she could see into every other part of the loft. And, except the black suede furniture, everything else was steel and glass.

  Eric hugged his sister. “Charlie, why don’t you go on home?”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Charlie looked unconvinced. Eric put his hands on her shoulders.

  “Honest.” He kissed her forehead.

  She glanced at Mina then nodded. “Okay.”

  “Good night, Sweet Sis.” He kissed her cheek. “Try not to worry. I’m a big boy now.”

  He gave Mina a meaningful look that had her vibrating to her toes. She gulped. �
�I better get going too.”

  An unexpected look of determination came over Eric’s face as he walked to Mina and took her hand, again making her weak and nearly breathless. “Thanks for tonight.”

  He looked down and his bangs fell forward into his eyes. Mina resisted the temptation to reach out and brush them back. “They’ll get this figured out.” She forced a smile. “No worries.” She gave Eric’s hand a final squeeze, fighting the impulse to shove him onto the floor and do naughty-naughty things to his tall, leanly muscled body. Instead, she walked over to Charlie and put her arm around her. “You ready, babe?”

  She nodded. “I’ll call you tomorrow, Eric.” When they exited the loft, Charlie stopped in the hall.

  “What’s up?” Mina asked.

  “Semi,” she said, using her childhood nickname for Mina. “I know I’ve asked you for too much already, but could you help Eric? Look into this… problem… and all.”

  “I’m not an investigator, Charlie.” Though she’d already planned to get to the bottom of the situation, she didn’t want to raise Charlie’s hopes.

  “You have a private investigator license.”

  “I guard bodies, Charlie. That’s what I do.” I used to kill people. I used to track them like animals and end their lives for money. Lots of it. But now she protected people, and she liked that job much better.

  “Please,” Charlie said. “Could you just talk to him? Do a little digging? You know people and… What if something happens to him?”

  “What do you think might happen?”

  Charlie shook her head. “I don’t know. I just…” She hesitated, and then shook her head. “I couldn’t handle it if I lost him..”

  What was Charlie not saying? Mina didn’t ask the questions on her mind. If Charlie thought was important to helping her brother, she would have spilled her guts already. So, Mina simply nodded. “Of course.”

  “Thank you!” Charlie hugged her hard.

  “Don’t get too excited. I can’t make any promises.”

  Charlie smiled like she didn’t believe her. “I have faith in you.”

  Mina wished she shared her best friend’s confidence.

  ***

  AFTER CHARLIE LEFT, Mina decided it was a bad idea to go back in the loft and talk to Eric, but she turned around to the door anyhow. She knocked and waited for a moment—no answer. She knocked louder. A moment later the door slid open. Eric stood in the entry with his hair wet, body damp, and nearly naked with the exception of the black silk boxers that clung to his firm thighs. Her mind screamed run!

  Eric looked surprised to see her. “Mina?”

  “Uh… yeah. Charlie asked me to investigate the murder. She’s worried about you.”

  He shrugged and walked back into the loft, leaving her in the open doorway. “I don’t know what I can tell you that you don’t already know.”

  Mina entered, sliding the door closed behind her. “Humor me.”

  “Suit yourself.” He grabbed a damp towel that was lying on the back of his couch and rubbed it vigorously over his mop of dark blond hair. “Want some coffee?” He shook his head, water shaking onto the floor. It reminded Mina of a really chic Calvin Klein ad, which made her want to run out and buy underwear and perfume.

  “Sure,” she told him, making her way to the kitchen area. “Why don’t you get some clothes on and…uh… I’ll get it ready for us.” He was making her uncomfortable with his mostly nakedness.

  Now, normally, she would have been fine in this kind of situation. Mina had no qualms about sex, but Charlie was her best friend, her family, and the thoughts she was having for Charlie’s little brother felt almost like incest—almost.

  He chuckled—soft, and sexy, and low—and it made her lower bits tighten. As her resolve to keep it strictly professional deteriorated, Mina refused to turn around and look at him. Instead, she made a beeline for the coffee maker.

  The kitchen was like something out of the future with its stainless steel counters, polished white stone floor, and glass cabinet doors. Even the refrigerator was see-through. She’d thought the loft was artsy and beautiful before, but now it seemed oddly sterile. It reminded Mina of one of those “Kitchen and Bath” magazine cover shots. Eric had been a messy adolescent who lived on cereal and peanut butter sandwiches. She ran her fingers across the cabinets—they felt cold.

  “You’re getting fingerprints on the glass,” Eric said.

  Startled, Mina turned around. She’d have thought he would have gotten dressed, but no—he was still in his boxers, no shirt. Yippee skippy. “Where do you hide your Cap’n Crunch?”

  Eric smiled, but it was tight-lipped, not like earlier when he’d been amused. Walking over to a long steel corner unit, he opened it up and pulled out a box. “Regardless of what you may think,” he said, “some things don’t change.” It was Cap’n Crunch’s Crunchberries.

  Mina barked a laugh. “You’re blowing your new image. What would your fancy clients say?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you think they’re hidden?” He looked over at his empty coffeepot. “I thought you were fixing the java?”

  ***

  ERIC WATCHED MINA sip her coffee. She’d picked the largest mug he owned. A brown, chunky cup his mom had given him for Christmas the previous year. It happened to be his personal favorite, so it gave him a secret thrill to watch Mina put her lips to the rim. He made note of the fact that she liked cream but no sugar, and filed it away in the part of his brain reserved just for her. He felt like he’d been collecting data since puberty. Oh, the wet dreams his younger self experienced over Semina Vail. He smiled.

  Mina glanced at him. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Since moving back to the city, he’d dreamed more than once of having Mina in his apartment. But in these fantasies, he’d never been the prime suspect in a murder investigation. Mina had told him not to talk until he had a lawyer, but he knew beyond any doubt he wasn’t the killer. Apparently knowing something is true isn’t the same thing as proving it. When his lawyer had arrived, he’d been relieved.

  Mina set down her mug. “So, you wanna tell me what happened?”

  “Not really, but I will.” He looked over his shoulder toward his living room area. “Let’s move to the couch. It’s certainly more comfortable than the stools in here.”

  Mina stretched her neck to look past him to where he gestured. She nodded. “Okay.” She took off her shoes and looped a finger inside each. When Eric raised his brow, she said, “These are sitting heels, not walking heels, and my feet are telling me we’ve done too much walking in them tonight. If I’d have known someone was going to get murdered, I’d have worn more sensible shoes.”

  She’d looked drop dead gorgeous in her red dress and dangerously high heels. Having her on his arm had made him proud. He sensed the desires of the other men in the room when they saw Mina, and it made him feel like the luckiest guy in the room.

  They settled onto the couch. Eric sat near the center, but Mina positioned herself by the armrest, keeping a distance between them. Any other woman in her position would have been in his lap already, but she wasn’t just any other woman.

  She brought her coffee with her, another buffer between them. She leaned back and crossed her legs. “Okay, so...”

  Eric sighed. “To begin with, it was one of the most awful things I’ve ever seen.”

  “You don’t get out much then.”

  He remembered how cool and collected Mina had been at the crime scene. The death had not affected her. Eric wondered if she thought less of him because it had affected him. “I guess I don’t. Up until tonight, I’d never seen a dead body.”

  Chapter Six

  MINA CLOSED HER eyes and remembered her first dead body. No matter how much she tried to put the past behind her, it wouldn’t erase the blood on her hands. She shook the memories from her thoughts. “You’re lucky.”

  The expensive black leather couch, plush and more comfortable than Mina expected. Eric’s hair, mo
stly dry now, hung haphazardly around his face. She couldn’t help but notice how sexy his hair looked, still damp and a little mussed. To stop her growing lust, she focused on the murder. “The fact you didn’t come out right away after finding Wilson looks bad, Eric.”

  “I was freaked out, Semina.” He rubbed his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “I can’t alibi you. I can’t tell the police for sure that you didn’t do it. Do you understand that?”

  “I wouldn’t ask you to lie for me.”

  Her cell phone rang. Mina walked over to her purse and retrieved it. The display read 5:00 a.m. God! Had she really pulled another all-nighter? “Hello.”

  “Hey, Mina.” It was John Stokes. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “Hi, John. Nah, I was up. What’s going on?”

  There was a pause. “They found Bishop’s fingerprints on the pen sticking out of Wilson’s neck,” John said. “They haven’t issued a warrant yet, but it’s just a matter of time.”

  “What about the witness from the bathroom? The guy with the white streak in his hair.”

  “No one at the party remembers seeing him.”

  “He fought with Tobias Tolliver at the bar.”

  “Tolliver denies having an altercation with anyone at the bar, and other than you and Bishop, the story can’t be corroborated by any other witnesses.”

  “I understand, John.”

  “One more thing,” he added. “The pen didn’t kill the victim. It was a blow to the back of the head.”

  “Why would someone kill him that way and then stick a pen into his neck?”

  “Maybe they tried with the pen first, and when that didn’t work, they cracked his skull.”

  “Anything idea what the weapon might be?” she asked.

  “Whatever it is, it has a strange crisscrossing pattern. It’s nothing you’d find in a bathroom.” He paused. “It might be enough to stall your boyfriend from being arrested.”

  Not my boyfriend, she wanted to protest, but it would only make her look petty and unprofessional. “Interesting. So no murder weapon in the bathroom. And they searched Eric, so no weapon on him either.”