“It is a pleasure to meet you, Daisy,” she said in a grave little voice with a trace of an accent when we were introduced.
“You, too,” I said, shaking her hand. “You’re not originally from Pemkowet, are you?”
“No.” She flushed slightly, glancing at Cody, and then away. “Montréal.”
“Oh.”
“We met at a gathering of the clans,” Caleb said quietly.
Just like Cody had met the only woman he’d dated in earnest, Caroline Lambert, shot by a hunter. I felt . . . awkward.
“It’s okay,” Cody said. “Hey!” He tousled the hair of a pair of boys who looked to be about five and six. “Meet my favorite nephews. This is Stephen and this big guy’s Elliot. Boys, this is my friend Daisy.”
Both boys stared at me with an intense focus that was unnerving in such little ones, their nostrils flaring and twitching in unison.
“Hi, guys,” I said to them.
Elliot, the older of the two, tugged at his mom’s sleeve. When Jeanne leaned down, he whispered in her ear. “That is not a question we ask in polite company, mon chou,” she said in her Québécois accent.
At an educated guess, I figured he’d asked her what I was. “It’s all right. I don’t mind.”
Jeanne gave me an apologetic look. “Forgive me, but your particular nature . . . I am not sure I’m ready to discuss it with them yet.”
Oh, great. A Canadian werewolf on the down-low was playing the morality card with me. My temper stirred.
She placed a slender hand on my arm. “I mean no offense. You understand that explaining such matters to children is complicated?”
I shrugged. “My mom never had a problem with it. But then, she wasn’t ashamed of me.”
Phosphorescent green flashed behind Jeanne’s mild hazel eyes. Yep, now I could see the wolf.
“Okay, no one said anything about shame,” Cody interjected. “C’mon; let’s go up to the deck. Let the boys play while we fire up the grill.” He gave me a warning look. “Sound good to you, Daisy?”
“Yeah.” Tip the mental glass, pour away the irritation. “Sounds great.”
Elliot tugged at his mom’s sleeve again and whispered another question in her ear. This time, Jeanne’s expression eased. “Yes, of course. It’s perfectly safe.” She made a shooing gesture. “Go, go play.”
The adults retired to the deck, where Cody fetched a round of beers before firing up the grill. I sat with his brother and sister-in-law, who watched indulgently as their young sons played in the glade.
I understood why Elliot had asked whether it was safe. The boys didn’t play like human children, not exactly. They chased each other, tussling and scuffling and rolling on the grass, accompanied by yips and yelps and playful growls.
“They’re cute kids,” I said to Jeanne. “Very . . . energetic.”
“Yes.” She smiled ruefully. “They’re too young to shift, of course. In some ways, it will be easier when they are older. When they are able to give true voice to the wildness inside them. But of course, that brings its own dangers.” She glanced in the direction of the grill. “The clan is lucky to have Cody in a position to protect us.”
“No doubt.” I racked my brains for a topic of discussion. “So, how do you like living in Pemkowet? It must seem awfully small after Montreal.”
“I like it,” Jeanne said. “I find it peaceful here. I like the seclusion.”
Beside her, Caleb nodded. “City’s too big. Too busy.” He shuddered. “Too many eyes watching.”
Oh-kay.
“Are the boys in school yet?” I asked.
“Oh, no!” Jeanne gave me a startled look, green glimmering behind her eyes. “No, I do not think that is advisable. We will homeschool them.”
“Pemkowet’s school system isn’t so bad,” I said. “Look at Caleb and Cody. They turned out okay.”
“Boys’ll be safer at home,” Caleb said briefly.
Okay, point taken; that was the end of that discussion. Even though it was none of my business, I was just trying to make polite conversation. I tried and failed to suppress a returning surge of irritation. “Did Cody tell you we ran into an old girlfriend of yours, Caleb?” I asked. “Rosalind says hi.”
“Rosalind?” He looked blank.
“Rosalind Meeks,” Cody supplied. He was in the process of placing six obscenely large T-bone steaks on the grill. “I think you dated her toward the end of your senior year. She’s tending bar at Bazooka Joe’s.”
“Oh.” Caleb shrugged. He and his wife held an unspoken exchange that consisted of a faint glance of inquiry on her part and a slight, dismissive headshake on his.
I sighed inwardly.
No matter what Jen said, the rules and codes of the eldritch community were rigid and ingrained, and it was evident that the Fairfax clan was a closed society, even to other members of the community.
A little later, we dined on the ridiculously oversize steaks, cooked rare and bloody, the Fairfaxes holding them with both hands to gnaw on them. Steaks, and nothing but steaks.
“Would it have killed you to serve a little potato salad?” I asked Cody. “Or maybe a green vegetable?”
He grinned. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
I felt guilty. “It’s okay. I’m being an ungracious guest.”
“I don’t usually have guests,” he admitted. “I guess the lack of practice makes me a thoughtless host.”
It made me feel better. “So we’re even?”
Cody nodded. “Definitely.”
His brother and sister-in-law glanced back and forth between us, silent and watchful. Disapproval might be too strong a word, but I got a distinct feeling of discomfort and uneasiness from them. Whether it was because I was a hell-spawn or merely an outsider, I couldn’t say, but I have to admit it was a relief when they said their good-byes as the sun was sinking low, taking their rambunctious wolf-cub boys with them.
I helped Cody carry the dishes, which basically consisted of six plates swimming in bloodred juice, into the kitchen. “Can I help you wash up?”
He shook his head. “No need. Go home; get some sleep. After yesterday and today, you must be tired.”
Actually, I was. It was hard to believe it was only last night that Hel had summoned me. “Okay.” I hesitated. “Thanks, Cody. This was really nice.”
His mouth quirked. “No, it wasn’t.”
“It was a nice idea.”
“Look.” Cody laid his hands on my shoulders. “Don’t take it personally, Daisy. My family is very . . . insular.”
I raised my eyebrows. “You don’t say?”
“I’m glad you came.” He let go of me. “This investigation’s been tough on all of us. I know I had reservations at the outset, but I wanted you to know that I’m glad we’re working together.”
It wasn’t exactly what I wanted, but I’d take it. “Me, too.”
Cody showed me to the door. “Tim Wilkes has called another conference for tomorrow morning. See you there?”
I made myself smile. “Bright and early.”
I drove home to my empty apartment. My neighbors across the hall were engaging in another bout of noisy lovemaking. Mogwai was nowhere to be found. On the plus side, at least I didn’t have to worry about any ravening ghouls lurking around the Dumpster or in my stairway. I had to say, Stefan had come through on that score.
I thought about Stefan and his oh-so-tempting offer.
Cody, too.
And I thought about calling Jen to talk about both of them, or my mom, just to hear her voice, but I was tired.
Instead, I poured myself a couple inches of scotch and put on some music. Sometimes you have to go old-school and let a genuine queen of the blues give voice to your melancholy. I put on a scratchy old recording of Bessie Smith singing “Salt Water Blues,” her world-weary voice accompanied by the spare, droning wail of a muted trumpet, and opened my case file to study Thad Vanderhei’s photo.
Thad’s bland, ordinary face gaze
d back at me. His hair still bore the impression of a ubiquitous baseball cap. Tomorrow I would attend his funeral. And I still didn’t have the first idea why he was dead.
“That doggone salty water,” I mused, echoing Bessie. “Why salt water? What the hell were you up to?”
Not drugs.
Something else.
But I didn’t know what.
Twenty-two
When I reported to the station in the morning, there were protestors outside it. Not many, only three or four, but it gave me shivers to see the signs and hear their chants.
“No more lies, no more evasion!” the protestors called in unison, marching in a circle and hoisting homemade placards. “No more sanctuary for Satanism!”
I slipped past them.
The mood in the station was grim. In the conference room, the chief slammed both hands down on the table. “Tell me we know something,” he said. “Tell me we’re making progress.”
Detective Wilkes cleared his throat. “Let me give you a rundown. Thad Vanderhei, Mike Huizenga, and Kyle Middleton are clean, no priors, no red flags. Ditto for Matthew Mollenkamp, the Triton House alum the brother cited. We’ve got no references on the Masters of the Universe. As far as anyone knows, it’s nothing but an old cartoon. We also ran the number Miss Johanssen gave us for Ray D, but it’s a dead end. Prepaid disposable cell phone, no longer in service.”
“Sounds like it’s time to bring the vic’s friends back in for another chat,” Chief Bryant observed. “We’ve got enough leverage to make them sweat.”
“It’s not going to be easy.” The detective looked disgruntled. “The Middleton boy’s parents picked him up and took him home to Indiana. The Huizenga boy’s been sent off on a church retreat.” He slid a piece of paper from a file. “And the Vanderheis have lawyered up on behalf of both of them. They’ve already given sworn statements. Looks like anything further’s going to take a subpoena. And given the fact that our key eyewitnesses are, um, undines, that could be a problem.”
“What the hell is wrong with these people?” the chief said in frustration.
“I don’t think they want to know the truth,” I said quietly. “Parental instincts are telling them they’re not going to like it. And I have a feeling they’re right.”
Chief Bryant heaved a sigh. “Despite the collegiate culture of prolonged adolescence, in the eyes of the law, those so-called boys are grown men. One way or another, they will be held accountable. What else have you got, Tim?”
The detective ran a finger over his tidy mustache. “A possible lead on another known associate of the elusive Ray D. According to one Bruce ‘Red’ Henderson, a member of the Outcasts currently enjoying a stay in the county correctional facility, Ray D had recently acquired an unusual lady friend, a fellow ghoul by the name of Mary Sudbury. Where you find one, you’ll find the other. Red was quite adamant on that score.”
“Ring any bells?” I asked Cody.
“No,” he said. “My contacts weren’t as forthcoming. But it’s definitely worth checking out. Your undines did say there was a man and a woman in that boat. What about the bartender? Jerry Dunham?”
“Now, there’s an interesting character.” Tim Wilkes laid a file on the table. “A bit of a drifter, it seems, and he’s fairly new in town. A handful of priors, six months served on an assault charge four years ago in Seattle. Here’s the interesting part: Until it closed, he was a carny with Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow.”
Cody frowned. “Now, that does ring a bell.”
“They applied for a permit to hold a performance here a couple of years ago,” the chief said. “The town council turned them down. It wasn’t exactly, ah, family-friendly entertainment.”
I was intrigued.
Detective Wilkes nodded. “It was billed as an old-fashioned sideshow with live freaks and geeks. They traveled on a national circuit, but they were based in Seattle. Late last fall, the Seattle authorities shut them down on charges of abusing and exploiting the performers.”
“Whereupon this Dunham decided to move to Pemkowet and begin consorting with ghouls?” Chief Bryant said sourly. “It doesn’t add up.”
“Seattle has an underworld,” I said. “Where else did Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow perform?”
Wilkes checked his notes. “Larger venues, mostly. Chicago, New York, Denver . . . a few oddities, too. Fresno, Leavenworth. Nothing as small as Pemkowet.”
Cody and I exchanged a glance. “They’re all sites in the U.S. with functioning underworlds,” he said.
My skin prickled. “So there’s an eldritch connection. I bet there was something in that sideshow that wasn’t human. Oh, hell! I’m sure there was. It’s right there in the name.”
Everyone looked blank.
“Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow?” I said impatiently. “It’s a reference to The Last Unicorn.”
“Let me guess,” Cody said. “A movie?”
I successfully fought the urge to glare at him. “As a matter of fact, yes, but it was a book first. My mom read it to me when I was a kid. The Midnight Carnival was a traveling sideshow full of illusion, but it had one true thing in it.”
“What was it?” he asked.
“A harpy,” I said.
He raised his brows. “Now we’re looking for a harpy?”
“No. I don’t know. We’re looking for something.” Glancing around the conference room, I could see I was losing the crowd. “I’m just speculating, okay?”
The chief propped his chin on one meaty fist. “All right. Where are we on the aquarium angle, Tim?”
“Still tracking down leads,” the detective said. “We’ve got a possibility or two, but we’re waiting on the ichthyologist’s report on the scales found under the Vanderhei boy’s fingernails. That will help us narrow it down.”
“Okay.” Chief Bryant dislodged his fist from beneath his chin and looked at his watch. “Let’s run with what we have. Cody, Daisy, I want you to shake down this Dunham character, see what comes loose. Just be back in time for the funeral.”
Cody nodded. “Both of us?”
“No, just Daisy.” The chief leaned back in his chair. “Cody, Bart’s out with the flu, and I’m going to need you back on patrol tonight. But see if you can’t chase down a lead on Mary Sudbury. Have the two of you looked into this Masters of the Universe business yet?”
“No,” Cody admitted. “Sorry, Chief. We still haven’t had time.”
Chief Bryant leaned forward, his chair creaking beneath the shift in bulk. “Let’s make it a priority. Might be something more substantial if we need to subpoena the witnesses for further questioning. In fact . . .” His deceptively sleepy gaze slewed my way. “Daisy, maybe it’s best we don’t go to the funeral together. Let’s keep your options open.”
“So you don’t want me to go?” I asked hopefully.
He dashed my hopes. “Oh, I want you to go. Just not with me. If we need to go nosing around Triton House later, it might come in handy to have a pretty girl who can pass for a college student.”
“The family’s already seen me,” I reminded him. “Huizenga and Middleton, too.”
“Since the vic’s friends are under wraps, I’m assuming they won’t attend. The Vanderhei family will have bigger things on their minds. That leaves plenty of others who couldn’t ID you, including this Matthew Mollenkamp. It’s worth a shot.” He levered himself to his feet. “Cuypers and Sons, two o’clock. Don’t be late.”
I sighed. “I won’t.”
Dismissed from the conference, Cody and I exited past the protestors and drove to the address for Jerry Dunham that Stefan had provided us.
It was a run-down little rental property a few miles north of town. Not only was Jerry Dunham in residence, he was in the driveway doing something mechanical to one of the most beautiful motorcycles I’d ever seen. It was a vibrant, glossy red, the color deep and saturated, with a teardrop-shaped gas tank, sweeping oversize fenders, and a black leather seat with rivets
around it. I actually felt a pang of regret when Jerry scowled at the sight of us and dragged a cover over it.
“Jerry Dunham.” Cody peered past him into the garage, where the covered forms of two more bikes lurked, along with a third that was uncovered, a gleaming black number. “Mind if we ask you a few questions?”
Jerry picked up a remote and closed the garage door. “Yeah, Ossifer. I do.”
“Got a reason to?” Cody asked.
“No.” He wiped his hands with a greasy rag. “Don’t need one.”
“Stefan Ludovic said you gave the Vanderhei boy Ray D’s phone number.”
“So?”
“When I showed you the boy’s photo, you said you hadn’t seen him,” Cody said mildly. “Why’d you lie?”
Jerry shrugged and tossed the rag onto the driveway. “I must’ve forgot. All them college boys look alike.”
“You get a lot of college boys in the Wheelhouse?”
“Some.”
Wow, this was a scintillating exchange. Since it didn’t seem to be going anywhere, I decided to try blindsiding Jerry. “Hey, I’m curious. What was the star attraction in Dr. Midnight’s Traveling Sideshow?”
There was the slightest of pauses before he turned his flat, dead gaze on me. “A headless chicken.” Somehow, the casual lack of menace in his tone made it all the more menacing. He made a slicing motion across his throat. “Little fucker got the ax, but it was still alive. Used to run around and flap its wings, trying to peck at shit without a head. We fed it through its gullet with an eyedropper. You should’ve seen it, blondie. You’d have loved it.”
Okay, ew!
“So the circus closed down and you lost your chicken,” Cody said. “What made you decide to move to Pemkowet?”
The bartender gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s say I had a taste for some wholesome small-town living.”
“Including acting as a go-between for a known meth dealer?” Cody pressed him.
Jerry shrugged again. “Some boys were looking for a man; I gave them a man’s phone number. None of my business what they did with it.” His face tightened. “Got ’em off the premises, didn’t it? So they wouldn’t offend Mister High Lord Muckety-Muck’s delicate sensitivities. A lot of thanks I got for it.”
Dark Currents: Agent of Hel Page 16