ANGEL'S KISS (A Dark Angel's Novel)

by Lynne Stevie

  “Ottie, how long have you known me?” I didn’t let him answer my question before I barreled ahead. “Two people were murdered while we were watching the house! And you’re hoping we can get out of being involved. We’re already involved up to our eyeballs!”

  “Alllrrrright. I know. But Lexie, this’ll be bad. I can feel it.” He took a moment to stare at the road. “And if I could get us out now, I had to try.”

  “Well, now that that’s decided, tell me what you think.” I leaned back and tried to relax against the ancient truck’s faded upholstery. No one would ever guess that the guts under this old Ford frame were probably worth more than a brand new Dodge Dually.

  When he didn’t reply, I turned to gaze at him. The weather was finally cooler today, so he wore an old, worn plaid shirt and jeans. He liked to look sloppy and unorganized, but as with his truck, what you see is not always what you get. Ottie is precision and order rolled up in a huge package. I knew he’d been in the military, but he’ll never give me any details.

  He kept his eyes on the road, and I could tell he was thinking, so I let the silence spread around us like a mist.

  “Lexie, this is personal to whoever did it. The pieces were placed after death for a reason. Whether we’ll ever find out what it means…who knows.”

  He took a deep breath. “There’s no blood at the scene. Hell, we don’t even know where they were killed. They were torn apart; I’m not even sure how that was done. Was there more than one killer? Was some sort of machine used? Shit, I didn’t even see any traces of blood to track back to how they were brought into the house. My guess would be the back door, but it was still locked from the inside. Plus, why leave the front door cracked open?”

  I tried to stay detached and objective. “Did you see Mrs. Janeck’s head? I don’t remember seeing it.” There. I got that out just like a normal sentence. Bully for me.

  He shook his head. “Nah, and I don’t think the police have made positive IDs, either. What makes you sure it’s her?”

  “The necklace. She wore it to both of our meetings.”

  I had secretly obsessed over that appealing and beautiful necklace both times. The gold almost seemed to glow, and the rubies woven into the ends were such a deep red that they were almost a garnet color. While poor Mrs. Janeck was pouring her heart out about her young husband and his possible infidelities, all I wanted to do was touch that necklace.

  “It wasn’t something you forget. You know how much I like antiques, and it was old. Either she’s involved and placed the necklace there to make us think it’s her body. Or someone killed her and just took the stone, leaving the chain as a message.” I sat up straighter.

  “Ottie, that stone was the size of a Georgia peach; I never could make out what was engraved on it. It couldn’t have been a diamond?” No way, I thought. “It was huge. If it was real, I can’t even imagine how much something like that would be worth or where it could have come from.”

  “I never got a good look at it,” he said with a shrug.

  “Really? How could you have missed it?” Ottie was extremely observant; I couldn’t believe he could overlook something like that.

  “I only met her once and I just assumed she was eccentric—you know big hats, big jewelry, blah blah, blah, lots of money. I never gave her much thought.”

  We were pulling up to the office and I saw my pink Jeep parked a few spots away. I love that car. It looked different, shiny. “Ottie, did you have my car washed for me?”

  “Yeah, it was a mess. How do you drive in that thing with trash all over the floor?” He was obviously upset by my lack of cleanliness.

  “Hey, it wasn’t that bad. I keep a trash bag tied to the shift to clean up cups and stuff. You know, we aren’t all obsessive compulsive about cleaning. Did you find anything?” Bickering with him felt good. I needed to get back to normal, and our teasing helped.

  “Nope, nada. Try and keep it clean now, okay?”

  It was after five when we walked into the office, but Kim was still at the front desk.

  “Hey, Kim.” I tried to sound upbeat. Ottie didn’t stop to chat, but headed on down the hall to his office.

  “Ottie!” Kim yelled. “Your messages are on your desk.” She turned her attention back to me.

  “Hey, Lexie, how are you feeling?” The concern in her voice was evident as she put my new phone and messages on the reception counter.

  “I’ll make it. Hey, thanks for getting me a phone.” I love gadgets, and this phone was shiny and new. She’d even added a pink camo case.

  “It’s all set up with your numbers and programmed for email, just like the old one, so you shouldn’t have any trouble using it. Now, I’m heading home in a minute. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “Nah, I’ll just check my email and write up my notes on the Janeck case before I get on home,” I said while flipping through my messages. “Is Devon here? I need to check in with him, too.”

  “No. Devon’s trying to talk to some of his contacts in the private security business about the Janecks. He said he’d have a report for you tomorrow. He’s still trying to track your old phone too. It has strangely fallen off the face of the earth—his words, not mine. Why not go home and get some rest? You can start fresh in the morning.”

  “I’ll go soon, I promise.”

  “Well, it’s just that Alan called and said that I should see if I could get you to go home early.” She had that motherly look in her eye. “I told him I’d try. So how am I doing? Will you listen to reason and go home?”

  “Nope. But thanks for the concern, Kim. I won’t stay late, so don’t worry.”

  Leaving her to pack up for the day, I headed to my desk. On the way I passed my Dad’s big office. I haven’t changed it much in the five years since his death. His big oak desk still sits on the far end of the room with pictures of Mom and our family displayed prominently on it. Our license and office certifications hang in antique frames behind his desk. The old wood paneling and slightly worn leather furniture always made clients feel at ease. We used it now primarily as a place for meetings. I still like my little office in the back with everyone else. I feel more a part of the team in the back hall. I can listen in to what’s happening and get insight into what the others think about clients and cases.

  None of my messages were urgent, mostly just updates and a couple of leads that I could call tomorrow, so I grabbed my laptop and headed back to the couch in Dad’s office. I used to love talking over cases with Dad, and his couch is still the most comfortable place in our office. I sank down into the old leather and kicked off my shoes. It felt good to be here surrounded by familiar things.

  Detective Maloran was right—it had been a couple of shitty days. I let my head fall back and closed my eyes. It had all seemed to start with the Janeck case. When Mrs. Janeck came to our office last week, I assumed it was just another domestic case. This is a wealthy area and most people are more than happy to pay a little upfront money to catch their spouses cheating so they don’t have to pay alimony. No big deal, I thought—one weekend of work, a couple of pictures or incriminating emails, then, an easy paycheck for the office. Now we’re involved in a double murder investigation. Whoever killed the Janecks wanted to say something, but what and to whom?

  I had a thought about the necklace. I booted up my laptop and then started typing in my journal area for the Janeck case.

  1. Review surveillance pictures of Mrs. Janeck; I want still shots of the necklace she wore. Maybe we can find information on the internet about its design.

  2. Why place the necklace back on the torso, shaped like a bow? Where did the stone go?

  3. Ask Devon if we can get any security video at the residence. If it’s internet-based, he might be able to tap in.

  4. What background do we have on the Janecks?

  A loud knock brought my head up. Ottie stood in the door with two beers in his hand.

  “You looked immersed in work, but I thought you might like a b
reak.” He held out one of the beers, as if he were unsure that I’d take it.

  “Ha! When have you ever known me to pass up a beer? Thanks, that’d be great.” I took the beer and leaned back to open it with the hem of my shirt. He followed my lead and sat down in the matching leather chair beside me. After the first swig I put my feet on the coffee table and asked, “Any ideas about this case I should know about?”

  He swallowed some beer first. “No, but I’m wondering about something else. Why are you being chauffeured around in your grandmother’s car, and why is it parked out front now?”

  Damn. I’d told William to go home after he dropped Riley at his house. “I had a meeting with B today. She insisted that I take her car and William, which was fine because I needed a ride at the time. But now it’s just annoying. I’ll get rid of him in a minute.”

  I took another drink and looked up to see Ottie waiting for the rest of the story. This is the reason I never play poker with Ottie.

  “I think B is getting a little senile, or …I’m not sure what’s wrong with her, but she seems to think that I need protection from something or some person. It’s a long story.”

  I could see his eyes widen, so I added, “I know, I know, crazy, right? I don’t know what I’m going to do about her.” I just remembered he was the only other person who knew about my attack. “Did you tell anyone about my being mugged?”

  “No. I figured you’d want to keep that out of the office, if possible. Why? Did you want me to?”

  “No, and thanks for keeping it to yourself. I’m embarrassed enough. I don’t need any more attention, and it doesn’t look good for the company that I got mugged. Not the kind of publicity we need, if you know what I mean.”

  “Nothing to be embarrassed about. It sounds like you took care of yourself. Why did you ask? Does someone else know about it?”

  “That’s what my meeting with B was about today. Somehow she found out and called me this morning and requested, no, demanded to see me. She sent William to fetch me and shadow me today ‘until other protection can be provided.’ What a piece of work! Barely a word from her in all these years, and now…. She’s obviously crazy, Ottie.”

  “What makes you think she’s crazy?”

  “Ottie. She was sitting as pretty as a picture, eating her biscotti and drinking her tea out of a beautiful china cup, talking about immortal beings who are after me. Trust me, she’s nuts.”

  I decided to shift topics. “But enough about my family. Did you have any messages about the Janeck case?”

  He drank some more beer and then leaned back and closed his eyes. “Nope, but I’ll check with my sources in the police department tomorrow. Maybe someone will have some information by then.”

  “You look tired, Ottie. Did you sleep at all last night?”

  “Yeah,” he said rubbing his eyes. “I got a few hours, but bed is definitely calling my name. You ready to leave? I’ll walk you out.” He took the last swig of beer and stood to leave.

  “Nah, go ahead. I have to leave a note for Devon and a couple of things for Kim.”

  “Okay. See ya in the morning, boss.”

  He turned to leave and I just had time to yell, “Hey, thanks again for getting my Jeep cleaned!” before he disappeared out the door.

  It was after seven when I finally got on the road for home. William had been a pain in the ass, but he finally gave in and headed back to B. Jeez, like I couldn’t even drive home by myself? What was I, thirteen?

  Bonnie Raitt was singing “Louise,” the top was down, a cool breeze lifted my hair, and this day from hell was finally ending. All I had to do was keep the vision of the Janecks out of my head. Oops, too late. Shit, there it was—the vision of their torn, bloodless bodies.

  I reminded myself to concentrate on the road. Bonnie switched to “About to Make Me Leave Home,” one of my favorites, so I turned up the radio and sang along.

  A few songs later, I was headed down our gravel driveway. Alan’s car was gone. Crap! I’d forgotten that he had to cover a football game or something for the paper tonight. I was too keyed up to sleep and I wasn’t hungry. Maybe another bath would be good?

  As soon as I stopped the car, I could smell the rain in the air. I love the smell of a storm coming; it’s like pure electricity. I quickly put the top up on the Jeep. The first sprinkles started to fall as I dashed out to the street to get our trash can and the mail. I wondered how long Alan would leave the can out if I didn’t put it back. Days probably. He never thinks of the day-to-day stuff, he’s so lost in his world of words. Well, it’s too late to retrain him now. Good thing he’s got other talents.

  That thought moved my mind in a steamy direction. Made me wonder what time he’d get home tonight.

  I put the lid back on the trash can and started over to the mail box. The warm, wet night felt wonderful; the drizzle wasn’t too cold or too hot. I tilted my head back to feel the rain on my face. It was very dark. The clouds, ready to burst with rain, had blocked out the moon. I hoped it would clear by morning; I could use a good run.

  The mail box held mostly junk mail. As I closed it, the rose bushes to my left shook. I jumped, shocked, and my breath caught, nerves snapping, when a tremendous howl shattered the drizzle’s quiet pitter-pat.

  I froze. Danger! Fight or Flight. Adrenaline rushed my system. Should I attack or run? I wanted to know. I wanted to run.

  My curiosity won. In the back of my mind I hoped that I wouldn’t need nine lives.

  I crept toward the sound in the roses. The howl turned into a whimper as I approached, making me more confident that this situation wasn’t dangerous. The animal shaking the fifty-year-old rose bush had to be huge; god only knew what it could be. We don’t have any large animals this close to town. Shit, could a bear have gotten this far in?

  I used the mail in my hand to push aside the thorny branches of the rose bush. Just then the clouds cooperated, sliding away from the moon for a moment, long enough for me to see dark eyes and a head the size of a basketball.

  Horrified, I jumped back about a foot. What the fu...?

  I couldn’t even see the whole body, but it was gigantic, easily heavier than I by seventy-five pounds. A low whimper and the sound of the animal’s labored breathing moved me into action.

  “Hang on, buddy.” My hands trembled as I moved the bushes aside enough to get a better look. This time I wasn’t as shocked by the sheer size of it, and I could see that it was some kind of monster dog. I’d never seen anything like it. It whimpered again, straining to pull away from a low branch on the bush, all the while tearing and cutting itself on thorns.

  I tried to sooth him. “Were you chasing a cat or something? It’s okay. I’ll get you out.”

  I’ve always had a way with animals. I’m not sure why, but this one seemed to like me, too. It stopped struggling long enough for me to see the branch that its collar was twisted up on. If I could release the collar, the dog could get free.

  Hoping that my animal magnetism held out, I tentatively reached my hand down in front of its huge jaws for the buckle on the leather collar. If it decided to bite me now, I’d lose my hand. I’ve seen pit bulls attack, and this dog made them look like lap dogs.

  I hoped there was a name on the collar; I couldn’t imagine one of my neighbors having a pony-sized dog like this. Hissing through the pain of the thorns scratching my arms, I grabbed the leather and pulled it tighter to release the old-fashioned buckle. Hell, even the collar was big enough to remind me of my father’s old belts.

  Finally, I could undo the buckle, and the dog struggled free. We both backed away from the bush. I didn’t take my eyes off it. I remembered that Dad had always said, “you can’t turn your back on a wild animal, not even for a second,” so I slowly backed into the driveway, careful to put a trash can between us.

  I inspected the collar. It was black leather with what looked like an army dog tag attached. The rectangular tag had the name ZEKE stamped on it in large letters and nothing els
e.

  “Oh. My. God,” I said as the dog approached me. “Huge” does not begin to describe how big this dog was. It must have weighed more than two hundred pounds, and it was a dark chocolate truffle color, almost as black as the evening sky.

  My heart beat double time. I was standing in the dark with an injured dog as big as a bear. Scratches on the left side of its head and neck still bled from its struggle to get free of the thorns. Surely it was in pain. Would it attack me?

  I’ve seen the dog whisperer; the rule is that I should assert my dominance by holding my ground and not dropping my eyes. Easier said than done, believe me, when a two-hundred pound dog is stalking you, but I managed not to run. Why make the attempt? Running wouldn’t help, because no way could I outrun it, and— I don’t know why, but I needed to gain its respect.

  He, and I say he now because it was pretty obvious, circled me, his movements slow and predatory. I circled with him, trying to maintain eye contact. After a couple of circles, he came in close. With his tail wagging, he bent his head and rubbed his face on my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he licked me.

  Yuck! Before I could wipe my hand on my jeans, he whipped his head toward the street and growled, a low, menacing rumble that made me shudder. I became as still as a stone waiting to see if he would attack me or something else. What was out there?

  The area went silent. Not the chirp of a cricket, the flutter of a bird’s wing, or the scurrying of a squirrel broke the stillness. I waited. Zeke just nudged me and licked my hand again. I moved slowly to put his collar back on, and he stood patiently to let me.

  “Zeke, why don’t you go on home? Shoo!” I tried to sound commanding, but my new, giant BFF just nudged me again with his big head and trotted off toward the house.

  Great. Alan will love this. I retrieved the trash can, tucked the thorn-shredded mail under my arm, and headed toward the house, just in time to catch the cloudburst. Zeke and I both dashed for the cover of my big front porch. Then we shook ourselves off and watched the rain.