A Model Murder (The Dead Ex Files Book 2)

by Claire Kane

  Lacey headed toward the food court in the distance, knowing a bite to eat was in order. She wheeled her grandmother through the crowd of people carrying flashy handfuls of shopping bags, deeper in thought, thinking her grandmother—despite her silly dreams and made-up Confucius sayings—was surprisingly wise.

  They soon settled down at a table for two, Styrofoam to-go boxes of Panda Express before them, and the aroma of orange chicken a welcome scent. Lacey passed chopsticks to Nainai, and picked up her own plastic fork to dig in.

  “You are funny,” Nainai said, artfully plucking fried rice between her wooden sticks.

  “What?” Lacey said, tilting her head, some long dark bangs falling over a cheek.

  “Chinese-American girl eating with forks.”

  “Yeah, well, what can I say? Pa’s a redneck. Be thankful I don’t use a shovel,” she teased. “I’m sorry they won’t make it here for Christmas, this year.” Seriousness spread across her face. “They don’t—well, I don’t either—have the means for that right now.”

  “Is Oklahoma far from here?” Nainai ate her rice in thought.

  “Yes, it is. But Mom really misses you. She will see you as soon as possible. I promise.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  Enjoying their meals, they ate in a bit of silence. Letting her eyes drift around the very busy food court, lines snaking around lines, Lacey caught sight of someone familiar in their midst. At first thinking of Victor, by the height and coloring, Lacey realized it was the back of Jack Beals, in another suit, ordering from Sarku Japan. Her heart skipped.

  As if sensing eyes on him, Jack glanced over a shoulder. Upon making eye contact, he gave a small wave of surprise. He pointed at the food place and motioned with his watch that he’d be just a moment. Lacey suddenly found herself surprisingly impatient.

  *

  Victor had painfully little experience with Seattle’s homeless population. What did he really know about homeless people other than what you saw on TV or in brief glimpses on the street? Walking among them, on a dark December night, he plumbed the depths of his ignorance in new ways. Beyond the sense of desperation he saw in so many eyes, he could feel the palpable sense of hopelessness, of defeat and sorrow, more than he’d been capable of in life. He’d never comprehended just how valuable one’s dignity could be until he saw so many people who had little to none. And yet, they survived, and some even thrived, taking a certain sense of pride in their hardiness, while still others simply enjoyed feeling free from what they considered the shackles of modern society. There were as many stories to be told as there were individuals, and Victor was stunned by the variety. Yet Victor had a job to do, and that didn’t include anthropology.

  “Teddy?” he called, knowing that no one else in the area was likely to hear him. His path had taken him to the tip of the peninsula, however, and he doubted he’d find many people wander around the water treatment plant at Lawton Wood even during daylight. He’d been at this for several hours now, but being an angel meant he didn’t have to worry about fatigue or boredom. Still, it pained him to be away from Lacey, especially since she was out having fun with her grandma at the mall.

  He sighed inside, reflecting on his memories of the mall at Christmas, but turned his thoughts back to his task. Rao hadn’t told him quite a few things, apparently, and while Teddy didn’t seem forthcoming with answers, Victor hoped he could find a way to persuade the man to divulge a secret or two—like how he could kick Victor out of his mind, and why a tramp claimed to have dealings with Heaven.

  “Hey, Ted! Where’d you go, man?” Victor had made his way to the water’s edge, eyes and ears alert. Water, he had noticed, seemed particularly hazardous, and not just because of drowning. Though Rao had only vaguely mentioned it, he recalled something about the forces of darkness having been given power over the water. He wondered if that had anything to do with why so many shady deals went down on piers and in seaside warehouses. Indeed, the hints of Legion were everywhere, and a general foreboding that was impossible for him to miss seemed to swirl around him.

  “Don’t overthink things, Vic,” he told himself. “Just find this guy and figure things out.”

  He called again, but with no answer. The woods along the water were unusually quiet. Except for the faint, dull noises from the water treatment plant, there was nothing. That disturbed him. A flicker of light from somewhere in the woods caught his eye, and he teleported there immediately.

  There, near the base of the hill, was a small campfire. That alone struck him as odd, but the collection of college students around it explained it pretty quickly. Their thoughts were superficial and vapid, and he didn’t need supernatural senses to see the way they swayed, the bloodshot eyes, and the clouds of smoke they exhaled. Two couples were a short distance away from the fire, doing things that made Victor blush. The rest of the group hung around talking, drinking, and laughing. Victor wondered why in the world anyone would be out in the woods in December, but he’d done plenty of stupid things in his college days as well. He wondered just how much he’d attracted, back then, the kind of darkness these guys were. He shuddered to think. At least he’d never been into drugs or drinking. Frowning, he turned back toward searching for Teddy.

  “So you know Rebecca’s gonna be a model, right?” a girl said behind him. Victor paused, his interest piqued. He searched their thoughts and found an image of the same girl whose interrogation he’d broadcast to Lacey, that day on campus. Despite the dark presences, he lingered, waiting for them to continue. A guy in the group made an off-color remark about Rebecca’s body, and those around the campfire laughed.

  “No, seriously,” the girl continued, taking a swig from a can, “she told me she got a scholarship for it.”

  “A modeling scholarship,” the guy said. “What do they call it? Bucks for Boobs?” The group laughed again, but Victor snorted .

  “We’re all taking bets,” the girl continued, pausing to hiccup, “on how long it is until she gets knocked off.”

  “Or knocked up,” the guy retorted to more laughter.

  “So anyway, she’s supposed to start soon,” the girl said, leaning in as though she were about to share some big secret.

  Victor had a hunch Lacey would eat this conversation up. Surely, this could yield some advanced leads.

  SEVENTEEN

  “Nainai, the man I went out with the other night is here.” Lacey pointed. “The one in the black suit.”

  “You will introduce us, yes?” Nainai winked.

  “Of course. He’s coming over as soon as he gets his food.” She smiled.

  Jack arrived with his meal on a cardboard plate, chopsticks in hand.

  “Hi, Jack.” Lacey stood, gesturing. “This is my grandmother, Chun Hua Ling. Grandmother, this is Jack Beals, my uh...”

  He smiled, about to speak.

  “Sit down with us,” Nainai burst. “We’re all Asian today. Even you,” she said in respect to their food choices. “Look, and you use chopsticks! Better than my granddaughter.”

  Rolling her eyes playfully, Lacey smiled. “I can use chopsticks. They’re just reserved for my sushi utensils.”

  Jack stayed standing. “I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m actually quite busy. You wouldn’t believe how this week has been.”

  True. Lacey could only imagine, feeling sympathetic. And yet, he had fit her into his schedule already, in spite of everything.

  Pointing a wrinkled finger, Nainai said, “We’ll keep it brief. Besides, it’s been too long since I’ve had dinner with a handsome man. Now sit and humor a lady.”

  “Nainai,” Lacey interjected, feeling slight embarrassment. “We can catch up with him another time. He’s—”

  The chair from the next table over screeched across the floor, Jack dragging it to their small table. He quickly sat in it with a smile. “I have a few minutes,” he said, looking at Lacey. His smile was reassuring, and so she settled into her seat with a relaxed sigh.

  A few minu
tes turned into more than twenty, with everyone’s plate cleaned. Three fortune cookies sat between them all, waiting to be opened. “Shall I do the honors?” Jack asked, picking one up.

  Lacey lightly laughed, pulling long hair over a shoulder in amusement. “Sure.”

  Jack set it back down, placed his hands over the cookies, and moved them around like a magician.

  “You can’t do that,” Nainai said in protest. “The cookie you receive is yours. No trades.”

  “Why not?” Lacey asked.

  “The messages will be mixed. Confucius say, ‘Don’t mess with someone’s good fortune, or be cursed.’”

  “Grandmother,” Lacey chastised, feeling apologetic toward their guest.

  Eyebrows shooting up, Jack said, “Oh, it’s okay. I apologize. Look, I still know which one’s mine. It has no panda on the packaging, see? And yours, Ms. Ling,” he spoke to Lacey’s grandmother, “has a mark right here, see?” He showed her the red ink smear on the corner of its packaging.

  That seemed to calm Nainai, whose childlike smile returned. A seriousness then overcame her, as she leaned forward in her wheelchair and said quietly, “You are a man of details, aren’t you? Your eye misses nothing.”

  Lacey thought of his apartment upgrades.

  Jack stared back at Nainai with the same intensity. “Nothing,” he said in agreement. “Nothing.”

  If two souls could speak with mouths closed, Lacey thought. Nainai and Jack’s unbroken stares gave an air of something cosmic happening.

  “Well, I'd better go.” Jack stood, taking his leftover trash. “Hey, listen, Lacey.” He touched her elbow. “I just thought of something. Can we talk a moment?”

  “Sure.” Standing up, she said to Nainai, “One moment. I’m just going to say goodbye to Jack, okay?”

  Nainai was still surprisingly in her own thoughts.

  Stepping a few feet away from the table, Jack’s eyebrows pressed together in concern. “Hey, listen. First, I wanted you to know I really did enjoy the other night. I apologize that I haven’t been able to catch up with you since—”

  Lacey, you gotta see this. Victor’s voice sliced through her thoughts, and before she could think, the mall, Jack, Nainai, and everything else disappeared from sight. All at once, she found herself standing in the woods, looking at a group of college-aged kids around a fire acting intoxicated. For half a minute, they bantered about nothing of consequence, before pairing off to further intoxicate themselves on love hormones.

  Um, Victor said again. Wasn’t trying to show you that, sorry. And in a flash, she was back in Northgate Mall, sprawled on her back, staring up into the face of Jack Beals. It was a beautiful sight, but she was mortified that he’d seen what had just happened.

  “Lacey?” he asked, voice urgent. “Are you okay?”

  She sat up, woozy and embarrassed by the stares she got. She could only guess she might end up as tabloid-level gossip before the night was out. She could already see the headline: “Washed up KZTB reporter’s public collapse; drugs suspected.”

  She blinked several times, trying to clear her vision, and took the hand Jack offered. He pulled her up with surprising ease, and she wound up almost literally face to face with him. A thrill coursed through her, and she wanted to lean in for another kiss. But she’d already humiliated herself enough for one evening—no, Victor had humiliated her—and she just wanted to collect Nainai and make a hasty exit.

  “Lacey?” He seemed unusually stiff as he studied her with slitted eyes. “I’m sorry if—”

  Lacey shushed him, touching her forehead. “You don’t need to say you’re sorry. I’m fine now. Not sure what hit me.”

  “No,” he said, locking eyes with her. “I meant for not spending more time with you. And I do need to apologize.” He brushed a hand along her chin affectionately. “I was about to tell you about the results of your shoot. I saw the images, and sent them to several clients. They loved them. I loved them, and I’ve seen a lot of pictures of some of the best models on the planet. We’d like to sign you, if you’re still willing.

  Lacey’s heart skipped a beat. Despite all her reservations about the profession, she found she was simultaneously grateful and flattered. She had a job, and an attractive guy. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed either of them until that moment. “I’d be happy to accept. I’ll stop by tomorrow morning, and we’ll get started.”

  Jack sighed audibly, clearly relieved. Almost at once, however, he stiffened, his face darkening. “I’m sure you’ve heard the latest news about our model, Brittany.”

  Lacey nodded. “Oh, I completely understand. And don’t worry about not catching up with me since the other night. You’ve got bigger worries than spending time with me. It’s not your fault, Jack.”

  To Lacey’s chagrin, Jack pulled away and looked into the distance. He still managed to seem handsome despite the deep furrows of worry on his face. “But Lacey, this is about you. I can’t imagine what concerns must be running through your mind at a time like this, second-guessing whether or not you should sign with us, over fear of... you know.” His hand dropped to his side.

  “Yes,” she simply agreed, letting him continue.

  He pursed his lips. “I want you to know I’m going to do all that I can to safeguard our girls. Tomorrow I’m going to be holding a press conference. I’ve invited all the local media and beyond…”

  “Okay.” Lacey’s brow wrinkled.

  He looked at her meaningfully. “I would very much like it if you came.”

  She wouldn’t miss it for anything. “Yes, sure. I will, definitely.”

  “Good,” he said, quickly brushing her cheek with a kiss. “It will be held in Trend’s Lobby at eleven o’clock. And Saturday after next, will you be my date at a charity ball? It takes place at the Hall at Fauntleroy. The mayor is hosting it. I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I’m going to ask him if we can donate a portion of the proceeds to the families of my girls who became victims.”

  Lacey nodded. Everyone who was anyone had heard of the Mayoral Charity Ball, a first of its kind in the City. “I already have the perfect red silk gown to go with it.”

  He smiled. “Of course you do. I have your number from the paperwork Geo had you fill out. I’ll keep in touch.” He kissed her cheek again, and with a charmingly boyish wave, sauntered away, Lacey’s eyes trailing him until he rounded a corner and disappeared.

  Behind her, Lacey heard Nainai take a deep breath, then exhale, as if she’d just finished an exercise. Lacey crossed quickly back to her grandmother. “You didn’t tell me about the murdered woman,” Nainai said, accusingly.

  Lacey’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Could you actually hear us?”

  “It was horrible, wasn’t it? Pretty girl.”

  “Yes,” Lacey said, still perplexed. It must have been something she'd seen earlier that day, at home, on her bedroom TV.

  Nainai, nodded, sinking back in her chair in thought. “Long brown hair. Longer than yours.”

  “Oh—Brittany?” Lacey asked. “You saw her picture? On TV?”

  Her grandmother’s gaze was as still as could be, peering into the distance at nothing in particular. “Long brown hair,” she repeated. “Beautiful.”

  Lacey snatched her phone out of her purse, and pulled up the Internet, quickly Googling Shayla’s picture. A few similar results popped up under Images. Each one of them were of a twenty-something beauty with thick dark hair that went to the small of her back. “Wow,” Lacey said under her breath.

  “Beware,” Nainai said at last.

  “Beware what?” Lacey asked, feeling a sudden surge of anger over the cryptic declaration. “What’s going on, Nainai? You’re behaving strangely right now, and I don’t like it.”

  Nainai tilted her head in her scarf, and just like that, she snapped out of it, scanning the mall with a wide smile. “You know, I always enjoy Christmastime. Such a time for good cheer. Your grandfather used to always get me the same gift every Christmas
Eve. You know what that was?”

  Lacey sighed, thinking about the medicine she had at home in a cabinet, for early onset signs of dementia. Suddenly feeling compassion, even a few tears wanting to break loose, Lacey forced a weak smile, and said, “No, what did he give you?”

  EIGHTEEN

  Just before dawn, Victor found his man. Teddy was holed up in a train car near the grain silo complex near Lower Queen Anne. Victor had made his way through that area earlier, but hadn’t been able to sense the man. Even now, he only knew where Teddy was because he could see him.

  “Congratulations,” Teddy drawled as he rose from his sleeping mat and stretched. “You just woke up a homeless man early on a Tuesday morning. Your parents must be so proud.”

  “We need to talk, Teddy,” Victor said, hovering over the man, trying to look ominous.

  Teddy didn’t even look at Victor but, instead, went to work tugging on his battered army boots. “Your ‘angel of death’ act ain’t gonna work on me, kid. Like I said, I’ve been dealing with Heaven a long time. I know ‘wrath-o-God’ when I see it, and you ain’t it.”

  Victor rolled his eyes. “So you know why I’m here, then?”

  Teddy shrugged and rolled his shoulders and head, then rubbed his hands vigorously. “It’s cold this morning. Real cold. I was just having this great dream about this one chick from Tacoma. Young, blonde. Nice legs.”

  It burned Victor that he couldn’t grab the man’s collar and make him look at him. “Let’s cut the crap, Ted. The way the dice roll, there are more than a few fingers pointing at you in connection with the recent murders. We might as well do this the easy way.”

  Teddy laughed out loud. “Oh, that’s rich,” he said, slapping his knee. “Angel boy wants to play Sherlock Holmes, and comes here trying to scare a confession outta me. Funniest thing I’ve heard in weeks. You really are new in Heaven, ain’tcha?”

  Victor crouched and gazed directly at the transient. “So you did kill them?”