A Witch, a Fairy, and an Esper

by Ross Homer

  Mostly, though, it was still only a bedroom, just more expensively constructed than most houses. Mrs. Sato had an interesting collection of sex toys and some expensive clothes. The television was one of the new eighty-inch screens with an amazing picture. Sorcha hit the remote and found that it was tuned to an X-rated website. She turned it off and we moved to the next room.

  We assumed that this was a guest room. It was almost as nice as the master suite with a small, well-stocked, bar, a dorm-sized refrigerator and a desk, as well as the bed and the usual bedroom items. The closets and drawers were empty.

  The next room had to be Reiko’s room because it was definitely a girl’s room. From the curtains to the posters on the wall, it showed ‘girl.’ But her closet was only about half full and there were no cosmetics on the dresser. Her nightstand drawers were empty save for her cellphone charger.

  The towels in the bathroom were clean and orderly which told us she hadn’t been here in a while. There were papers on her small desk but nothing of any importance to our case. And no computer. I knew she didn’t live here but had no idea where she might have moved to. We could look that up and go check it out.

  “Okay,” Sorcha said to us. “The office. No, I’m not looking forward to this any more than you guys are. Let’s just go do it. The sooner, the better and then we can get out of here.”

  I’d seen what the end of the hall was like and I’d seen the office. Now that everything was dried, it was no better and there was this pervasive odor of death.

  Then we went into the office. Trying to avoid dried blood was difficult since it was splattered everywhere but we managed to see all of it. Shocking all four of us was the complete lack of anything related to Sato’s businesses. The office, other than the blood, was neat as a pin.

  There was both a PC and a laptop sitting on the desk. When we turned them on, we came to the ‘Welcome’ screen and the ‘are you ready to set up this device’ notice. The IT people at the police headquarters told us later that the drives were brand new and had never had power to them until we turned on the computers. Someone had taken the originals.

  We found no backups, no letters, no nothing as we went through every drawer in his office. We tapped on walls and pulled out drawers. Moved all of the books. The place was sparkling clean. It was as if everything here was some kind of model home setup.

  Upstairs where we had found Reiko was exactly the same. Someone or…something had erased any evidence of what Sato had been doing. The blood was still there, though.

  Returning to the living room, Nissa said, “I find this hard to believe. This house has been sanitized.”

  Sorcha nodded in agreement. “There has to be something here. Some damn clue as to why all these people were killed. We know he was a mobster. But there’s nothing!” She ran her fingers through her hair in frustration. “Shit like this makes me want to quit this fucked up business and stay home and play Flipper or something. Join the damn circus as a trained seal.”

  None of us laughed at her.

  I went back up to the master bedroom and took one of Sato’s neatly folded t-shirts out of a drawer and held it to my face. The damn thing may as well have come from an unopened package. The same with one of his wife’s bras. There was a scent but none of the telltale clues that help me do my job. Leaving the room, I tossed it on the bed with his t-shirt. Sanitized was the perfect word for how this house was.

  Downstairs, I did like Sorcha had earlier and turned in a full circle except with my eyes open. I stopped and said, “Sorcha, Sato offered me a million dollars to find his daughter. I didn’t physically find her in this realm but that’s not the point. The money he was going to pay me was in a black metal case. I saw it in his car. He opened it and gave me a retainer in cash and pictures of Reiko. It’s not here in this house. I can’t generally find inanimate things but if they’re close enough and fresh enough, I sometimes can. It’s not here.”

  I looked at her and she looked back at me. Nissa said quietly, “Somebody stole it?”

  “Could be. Who were the first people on the scene?”

  Sorcha answered, “A patrol and Lt. Albertson.”

  The look she gave me left little doubt who she thought might have taken it and it wasn’t the patrol guys.

  After a long few seconds, Elsa said, “The garage? May as well look there, too.”

  “Good idea,” I said.

  Sorcha led the way through the kitchen.

  The garage was roomy and contained two high end cars. The Mercedes I’d been in had been towed so it wasn’t here. Both cars were unlocked and, like the rest of the house, as pristine as if they’d just been detailed. This was a rare garage in which there was nothing in it but the two cars. Even the floor was clean. The third and fourth stalls were empty. The Mercedes probably went in one of them.

  Sorcha looked out the back window of the garage and saw a shed at the far end of the yard. “Let’s hit that too, and then we can leave. He probably kept lawn equipment there.”

  She was right about that. There was a top of the line riding mower that I wondered if I could smuggle home, and a leaf blower. Three rakes, two spades and a shovel that had been recently used but not cleaned very well, hung on pegs along the wall. A six-inch electric grinder was mounted on one end of the work counter. I noticed a new reciprocating saw laying on the counter, too. There was something dried on the blade, but it was more than likely rust. I couldn’t see someone like Sato cutting holes in walls or whatever else the saw was used for, so it sat unused, rusting in damp weather.

  The rest of the shed was clean and empty.

  Nissa went out the door and walked towards the fence that ran behind the shed and the property.

  She noticed it first.

  “Guys,” she called out, “Come around here.”

  We did and she pointed out freshly turned soil. “Even in Britain, dead smells dead. Something’s been buried here, and I’d be willing to bet it’s not their late dog. Sorcha, let’s call forensics. I don’t think we want to mess with this.”

  The dug-up area ran ten feet from the back of the shed to the base of the concrete block wall that separated the property from an alley. It continued on in about an eight feet wide strip down the wall. Yeah, we didn’t want to screw around here.

  It was a good thing we didn’t because by the time forensics was done, they recovered the bodies of five men, all with their right hands missing. According to Brenda Hall, each man had lost the hand first and then their throats were cut with a fine blade. The same one that took the hands, in fact. Three of them died on the same day, the other two a couple of weeks earlier.

  She’d hopefully have identifications on all of them in a couple of days if not sooner.

  Monday morning, we had rain. Oh yes, we had rain. As in dogs and cats worth of it. I love training in the rain but then Elsa is right; I’m weird. Most people hate it. I like running in it too. This morning I biked while Elsa and Nissa went running in it and by the time we all got back to the house, we were cold and wet and happily exercised.

  We went to my office where we sipped coffee and kicked around ideas about the case but came up with no new ideas as to who sent the nightwalkers. The day was mostly a waste of wheel spinning and getting nowhere.

  Tuesday was a nicer day and I had two skip traces. I found them by the end of day and made a few bucks. That asshole in the black pickup truck tried to get close to me again, too, while I was riding. Was he trying to hit me for real? I wondered that when I saw his license plate was covered in mud. All I had was the make and model of the truck and that wasn’t was not enough to tell the police about.

  He didn’t quite managed to run me off the road, but someone in the passenger side yelled some wonderfully intelligent nastiness at me.

  Sorcha had the ID’s on the five men in the grave. All five had long rap sheets and they’d last been seen in Boise, Idaho, of all places. Why did professional bad guys end up in a place like Boise? Then in Seattle? We still had no c
lues about that one.

  I guess you could say that there was worse news. Gaelle Pelletier’s mother and grandmother had been located but they, too, were missing without a trace. Neighbors had seen them both on the same afternoon the previous week and then never again. Scottsdale police found their house empty.

  This news didn’t ease my fears one wit. My fears then infected Elsa and in turn, made her a little short with me. No pun intended. Nissa told both of us to relax. We were safe during the day and probably safer in the house at night.

  Midweek. There was nothing new on Gaelle or the dead bad guys. There was nothing in Reiko’s apartment, either. Because I liked her when we ‘met’ Elsa and I cleaned out her refrigerator and freezer. We gave away to the food bank what was still usable and tossed the rest. Her clothes we donated to a woman’s shelter.

  The good news was that there were no nightwalker sightings or murders. The bad news was that there were no new skips or locates, either. Had I known what was coming a bit later, I’d have stayed cozy in bed with my lover. But…I had a group ride with six other members of the club. This was meant to be a mostly mellow ride with a few sprints thrown in to keep us fit.

  Our douchebag in the black pickup truck wasn’t playing games this morning. He came out of a side street and I wasn’t prepared with a spell. He ran all seven of us off the road this time. I got some road rash; Davy broke his collarbone. The two guys in the truck slowed down long enough to see if they’d killed anyone. When they saw all of us moving, they flipped us off and smoked their tires leaving. Yes, the license plate was covered with mud while the rest of the truck was spotless.

  The cops arrived and were almost worthless because no license plate. A big black pickup truck. It’s not as if King County doesn’t have a zillion of those. Even with the model it was no real help without a license plate number.

  All of us went to the hospital to be checked over and then were released with only minor scrapes and bruises. Except for Davy, the rest of us would still be able to race on Saturday. Hitting Davy, though, put a scratch on the rear fender of the truck. I saw that when that asshole slowed down to look at us.

  As I rode home from the hospital in the car with Elsa, I knew this was not a mistake or accident. This was a deliberate act by some damned goon in a pickup truck with a hatred for bicyclists. If he kept this up, he’d kill someone one day. I prayed it wasn’t going to be me or mine or some poor child.

  After I cleaned up and Elsa tenderly applied scape ointment, I examined my bike. Its all carbon frame came through the crash just fine. Hell, I was beat up worse.

  My right knee, thigh, hip, and shoulder caught the brunt of the fall. Gloves saved my hands. I had a bad bruise on the inside of both knees. That was caused by the crossbar on the frame as I hit the ground, slamming my knees together. Luckily, bruising was all I got from that part.

  I noticed scrapes on my helmet. Without it, those would have been on my head or, of course, much worse could have happened to me. I wince when I see people riding without helmets. All that you are is between your ears and hitting the ground wrong can instantly erase that. I knew a lawyer that happened to. He wasn’t even going fast, and a dog ran out in front of him. It was months before he could even think straight again.

  As Elsa dabbed on the cream, I wondered if I was going to be able to handle brake levers and gear shifters this weekend. I shrugged. Ouch! That was painful. My twisted muscles didn’t appreciate me doing that. I guess I’d have to see about Saturday.

  Because of the crash, I decided I was going to take Thursday and Friday off to recover despite missing the after-ride party on Friday. Those were always fun and surprisingly relaxing by the time I usually went home.

  As the day progressed, I was stiffening up as I knew I would. All because some jerk in a truck. The rest of the team were every bit as angry as me. I needed to be ready for the next time although I thought I was ready this morning. I was certain I would see him again, too, just not as soon as it turned out.

  Elsa, Nissa, and I locked up the office and walked, or in my case, limped, over to one of our favorite restaurants for dinner. The Waterin’ Hole. Later, we’d go to Dewey’s for another much-needed drink or two. Yeah, Thursday was going to be a day off for me despite my witching away some of the pain. It simply took too much out of me to heal myself. So, I let nature take her course.

  Dinner was excellent, the pasta out of this world. We were hungrier than normal or was their food better than normal? We didn’t care. It was tasty and fresh.

  Then about nine, we went over to Dewey’s and it all went straight downhill. Not for us, though.

  As we passed Dewey’s dimly lit parking lot, I thought I saw that black truck towards the back. I’d been after Dewey for a couple of years to put better lighting out there in the side parking lot. But as always, his answer was ‘not now.’

  “Wait guys,” I said and crossed over to the truck. Yep. There was the scratch on the right rear wheel well. That asshole was here. I grinned as I watched all four tires deflate. Not from simple holes. Nope. I shredded them. He’d have to buy all new tires.

  I noticed three other trucks in the lot, too. I left them, wondering if they might be friends of his. If so…same thing was going to happen.

  Out front were five big motorcycles. Big, extended forks and bars, types. More assholes. What the hell was going on inside?

  Now you take three very attractive, shapely women and send them into a hungry lion’s den. The lions are going to look and slobber all over themselves before they attack. That’s exactly what happened to us.

  Nissa was wearing snug dark slacks, a plain pink blouse and a jacket. Elsa and I both wore short skirts. Our blouses, like Nissa’s, tended to emphasize our chests more than cover them. I know for a fact that Elsa, like me, enjoyed looking sexy because we had the figures for it. So did Nissa.

  And we walked into the lion’s den. We may as well have been slathered in bacon grease and wearing T-bone steaks from the way we were being visually devoured.

  Nissa leaned forward and whispered in my ear, “Oh shite. Arseholes ’er droolin’ all over themselves. Want to leave?”

  I shook my head. Oh, hell no, I didn’t want to leave. I saw the Big Black Truck driver at the bar with the guy who’d been in the truck with him this morning. There were two other guys with them. I was going to have a lot more fun with these two before the night was over.

  The bikers were hassling a couple of grunge band members. One smacked the jukebox, making the music stop. It had been a song by Theresa Brewer. He yelled, “Hey! Asswipe! How come you ain’t got no good Country on this piece of shit?” He kicked it again and the lights on it went out.

  I saw Dewey start to reach under the bar and I shook my head. He looked at me and then nodded. Dewey knew I was different in some way he didn’t understand. I saw him shrug and put a couple of beers on Marcella’s tray.

  As we passed Big Black Truck guy and his friends sitting at a table, I heard him say, “Damn, guys. I wish to fuck Sato hadn’t got hisself killed. I could sure use the money ‘cause if nothin’ else, he did pay good.”

  The guy with him said, “Yeah, no shit. I got me that fine automatic workin’ for him. A couple’a more jobs and I’d have a truck like yours.”

  Big Black Truck guy laughed, “That wouldn’t ‘a happened anyways. My truck is unique. Y’know? Ain’t another’n like it anywheres.”

  “Hah! Mine woulda been better but no, somebody took ol’ Sato and his family out. Fuckers.”

  We continued on past them and stopped to talk to Marcella. She looked fearful and said quietly, “These guys are scaring me to death, Jo. I got kids at home. You know that. And I’m glad you’re here because I know there’s something about you that makes me feel a whole lot better. You and Elsa.” She smiled at Elsa and Nissa.

  I kissed her on the cheek and introduced her to Nissa. Then I said, “Wait and watch. If any of those guys get grabby before the show starts, point him out to me.”

/>   She smiled. “Count on it. Kicking the jukebox was about the worst they’ve done so far.”

  I nodded and the three of us continued to my favorite seat at the bar. At the moment, it was occupied by some greasy-looking jerk in some motorcycle gang colors. He sat in the middle of three seats so we couldn’t sit together if we wanted to.

  “Move,” I said sweetly. “We’d like to sit together. There’re plenty of other seats.”

  “Fuck you, cunt,” was his wonderfully intelligent reply. He took a large swallow of beer from his bottle and chased it with whiskey. Then then he belched at me. Well, he could drink that swill all night and he might get a buzz but that would be from the beer. How did I know this? Because Dewey kept several bottles of watered whiskey and other liquors for exactly this occasion.

  He looked me up and down. “Why don’t you blow me and then we’ll see.”

  I shook my head and felt Elsa’s hand on my left arm since my right one was still tender. “Naaah. I’ve been told I’m pretty lousy at that. However, you can move now, or you can be carried out.”

  Else suddenly joined in the game. “Want the rebar?” she asked me.

  I shook my head. “Don’t need it just yet.”

  He looked her up and down, too. “Rebar? I’m surprised you cunts know what that is.”

  “She likes the two and a half foot lengths of five-eights,” Elsa told him. “I’ve seen what she can do with it and bud, you don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell if she decided to use one in here.”

  The biker leaned into Elsa’s face. “Look cun…”

  Elsa put her arm around my waist possessively and snapped at him, “You call me or her that again, asshole, and there isn’t a plastic surgeon on this planet that can undo what she will do to you.” Her tone of voice left no doubt at all that I could tear him up.

  Whoa! Now my wonderful, loving, girlfriend was spoiling for a fight. The funny thing was, he picked up his drinks without another word and went down to the other end of the bar. Later she told Nissa and me that she’d fed some of his fear back to him. I had no idea that this kind of goon feared much of anything. I was wrong because apparently getting his ass whipped by a big, purple haired girl in front of his friends scared him half to death and she’d emphasized that.