by Unknown
In other news an investigation is pending this morning after the unusual overnight suicide in Bellevue Hospital’s psychiatric ward. Details are sketchy at this time but it is believed that the man—Randy Southern, from Peekskill—managed to free himself from the bed restraints to commit suicide after being brought in following an unspecified incident at a Manhattan nightclub.
Magera clicked off the TV and shook his head. “Big Business budget cuts are killing this country. The hospital’s probably been buying cheaper equipment to save a buck.”
“Maybe,” Dai said, remembering the glimpse he thought he had of that Yun fucker who’d been getting on his nerves. “Is Mrs. Collazzi still a nightshift nurse down there?”
Vinnie grinned. “Yeah, the old bat is still hanging in. Let me call the missus.”
Dai leaned on the counter, flicking the paper menus with the edge of his thumbnail as Vinnie called home and conversed with his wife in rapid Italian. “She say anything?” he asked when Magera hung up the phone.
“All kinds of crazy shit. It seems Carmella stopped over for coffee on her way home this morning and told Marie all about what she heard from a nurse on the guy’s floor.” He rolled his eyes as if to say, “and we know how accurate hearsay is.”
“Go on. Inquiring minds want to know anyway.”
“She says it’s like the guy was possessed. He was talking in tongues—not just babbling aloud, but carrying on a conversation with someone in Chinese or some shit. Apparently, whatever his invisible friend was saying got him more and more pissed off and they had to get a doc to order a tranquilizer. So by the time the nurse gets back with the needle the guy is dead. The wrist restraints are off and he’d clawed his heart out of his chest with his bare hands, apparently. The asshole didn’t undo the leg restraints, mind you, just the ones around his wrists. “
Magera paused and stared at Dai. “He clawed his heart out of his fucking chest. With his bare hands. Can you believe that shit? They gotta be screwy on that. Was he on PCP or something?”
“I don’t know for sure. I only saw him for a minute, but he had to be strung out. He was trying to lick up fucking blood from the floor.”
Vinnie shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand that looked strong enough to crush bricks. “You weren’t kidding—that’s some weird shit, kid.”
Dai shuffled in place, so many questions running through his mind and making him damn antsy. This news from Bellevue was just too fucked up . . . but after what he’d seen . . . . “Listen, this is going to sound even crazier, but---” Dai caught himself and cursed. “Fuck, never mind.”
“No, tell me.” Vinnie folded his arms over his chest.
“Just . . . some people last night were saying shit about . . . about vampires,” Dai mumbled out faster than he could stop himself. “At that club.”
Vinnie raised his eyebrows, but didn’t laugh, thank God. “Kids are into some odd shit, Dai. Maybe this is a cult thing. Have the department’s profilers looked into anything there yet?”
A cult of vampire wannabes—that was something Dai could wrap his brain around. But that explanation didn’t feel right at all.
“It could be, Vin,” he said, and sighed. “I better head to the precinct and check in.”
After what happened in the hospital last night, there had to be some stories going around the squads. Later on in the day, he could stop by Bellevue himself and ask some questions.
“Watch yourself out there, kid.” Magera clapped him on the shoulder. He frowned. “You look a little out of it, Dai. The department is going to shit, from what I’ve heard. Don’t let the job take you down with it.”
“Yeah, okay.” Dai gave him a short smile before leaving. Not even Vinnie really knew what the fuck was going on, and it was probably better that way.
* * * * *
The cat’s purr pulled Sakurai out of his sleep and he opened one eye to find a bird twitching upon the bed next to him. He raised up on his elbow and grinned then reached out to scratch the cat behind the ear. “WhySayuri, you’ve brought me breakfast in bed. How sweet you are.”
He pierced the bird’s chest with the nail of his index finger and licked the blood. “I do appreciate the thought, my friend, but you take it. I’m afraid I crave something a bit richer and entirely more intoxicating.” He flicked the bird to the floor then ran his hand along the pillow next to him. Bringing his hand to his face, he inhaled the faint, lingering trace of Daisuke Matsui.
Yes, this was definitely more along the lines of what he wanted. Sakurai sat up and stretched like a cat then glanced at the rumpled bed, his gaze lingering upon the stains left by his pet’s orgasms. Sakurai leaned in, stroking his tongue across the largest spot. He shivered and smiled. Oh yes, his new pet was quite delectable and he couldn’t wait to sample more of his pleasures.
But first a bit more foreplay was in order . . . .
Smirking, Sakurai looked around the disheveled room. Yes, perplexing his Daisuke would make for great sport.
Dark Whispers Sheridan and Cain 2009
Chapter Eight
Dai braced himself for the razzing as he walked up the steps of the old Bronx precinct house. The minute he walked in the door the desk sergeant got on the phone and buzzed the shift commander. “Time to pay up, boss. I told you he couldn’t stay away.”
Dai grimaced. “Gimme a break, Washington.”
“Hell no. This is my revenge for when you were a pain in the ass kid on my beat.”
Dai laughed and started for the stairs. “I’ll be hanging out until my shift.”
“Matsui, hold up.”
Dai stopped in answer to Dale McAfee’s call. With Mac was with a shiny new face in an expensive, tailored suit. “This is Lynch. He was sent down from upstate to learn about gang activities and who better to show him this lovely slice of hell on earth than our own personal Superman?”
“I work alone, Mac.”
“Not today, you don’t. He’s already gotten the grand tour of our castle so you can show him the rest of the kingdom.”
Dai stared at McAfee then turned to the new guy, who would stick out on the streets of this precinct like a dainty tea sandwich wedged in between a couple big, greasy burgers. “Did you bring plain clothes?”
Lynch shook his head.
Dai leaned against the banister. “You’re going to have to change out of the suit.”
“I only brought two suits with me.”
“Deal with it, Matsui,” McAfee said before heading back to his office.
“The fuck I am,” Dai muttered. He looked to Lynch. “Look. In that get up you’ll be made so fucking fast it’s not funny. Come on, I’ll loan you something of mine.”
Halfway to the locker room Dai stopped. “Fuck. I took my extra shit home to wash. Come on, we’ll swing by my place.”
Lynch looked down at his suit and fiddled with his cufflinks. That’s right. Goddamn cufflinks.
“I’m only here for a fact-finding tour. Do you really think the way I’m dressed is going to be a problem?” The young detective frowned and self-consciously ran his fingers through his slicked back hair.
Dai snorted. “Without a fucking doubt.”
* * * * *
They got off the elevator and headed down the carpeted hallway to Dai’s apartment. Dai’s temper simmered like a low-grade fever. One thing he’d discovered on the drive over was that Lynch was a major dickhead.
“These city pads are small, huh?” Lynch asked as they entered.
“It beats the cardboard box under an overpass I grew up in.”
Lynch turned and raised his eyebrows.
“It’s a fucking joke,” Dai said flatly.
“Ah.”
“Right.” Dai sighed. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. “Help
yourself to something from the fridge. I’ll be right back.”
Dai was halfway through the living room when Lynch’s strangled cry stopped him in mid-step.
; “What the hell is this?” Lynch called out from the kitchen.
Dai went back to see what the pussy detective was pointing to on the small kitchen table. A dead and pretty nicely mangled bird was spread out on a jade green dish underneath the overhanging lamp, its head crooked at a grotesque angle away from its body.
“Stupid Dude.” Dai sighed as he looked around for his cat. Lynch gave him an offended look and Dai rolled his eyes. “It’s just my cat. He does this shit sometimes.”
‘Cat presents’ my ass. Dai sighed again and picked up the plate. He could do without the dead mice Stupid Dude kept dragging in all the time; the cat didn’t need to start with birds.
Dai took a garbage bag from under the sink. The bird’s blood had congealed nicely so it was good and stuck to the plate when he tried to dump it into the bag. It was while Dai scraped the bird off the plate that he realized this was one of his ‘good’ plates--the rectangular ceramic ones from the set his mother gave him when he moved out. He never touched them, let alone left them on the table.
Frowning, he placed the bloody dish into the sink and closed the garbage bag. Lynch was sitting in the living room, obviously not interested in having anything to eat or drink.
“I’ll be right back,” Dai repeated, his entire body tense and on the alert now. As he looked around, he noticed the living room had been cleaned up after he’d wrecked it looking for the bugs. He approached the bedroom, now completely on edge, his hand on the grip of his Glock.
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. Susan. Shit, she knew he kept a spare key in the locker they were forced to share. Maybe she was trying to cozy up to him again. It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d cleaned his place without his wanting her to. He turned the knob slowly, hand at the ready to draw and fire just in case. The room was empty, but spotlessly clean. Someone had even washed his laundry, leaving the clothes folded neatly atop his dresser.
He looked at the bed. There was a small lump beneath the covers near the pillows. Probably the cat. He went to check the bathroom first. That, too, had been tidied up. He gave the room a quick look for more cameras. Nothing. He edged back to the bed and pulled down the coverlet. A pair of his briefs, the ones he’d had on the other day, cleaned and neatly folded, lay atop a wadded up hand towel.
Sticking out beneath the towel was a note written in Cantonese.
I prefer not to keep my pets in slovenly surroundings. Remember that, Daisuke. We’ll play again very soon. Until then, I came for you as you did for me.
Dai picked up the towel and slowly unfolded it. The center was still wet, slick with a pool of drying cum. Without meaning to, he touched his fingers to it. The stain was cool and sticky to the touch.
He heard Sakurai’s rich, softly accented voice within his head.
Go on. You know you want to.
He brought his wet fingertips to his lips and licked them clean.
“Hey Matsui!”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Dai dropped the hand towel and pulled the sheet over it a second before Lynch popped his head in the doorway.
“I, uh, appreciate the favor, but we really shouldn’t stick around much longer.” Lynch crinkled his nose. “We’ve got things to do, you know? I’ll risk being obvious in this suit.”
“There’s some stuff in the drawer---” Dai started and his heart almost came to crashing stop as his eyes rested on the trunk at the end of the bed.Oh shit . . . if Sakurai was here doing fuck knows what, did he look through the things in the chest? Did he move them around, put them in other places?Oh fuck!
“No, I’m fine this way.” Lynch coughed into his fist. “Seriously.”
Dai practically shoved him out of the room and closed the door behind them. “Whatever. Great. Let’s go.”
On the way out, Dai grabbed his fadedColumbia hoodie from the small rack to the left of the front door. “Here, you can put this on over your shirt. And lose the cufflinks.”
As they left the apartment, Dai noticed an ivory-colored envelope in his mailbox. He never got mail in his box except on Fridays when the weekly junk flyers were delivered. He had everything requiring an address registered to a post office box, including his driver’s license and work-related mail. He thought of just leaving the letter in the box, but curiosity made him grab it, instead. Maybe Wei had left him something.
Dai swallowed hard when he unlocked the box and got a closer look at the envelope. He pulled it out and held it in shaky hands. It bore the same precise calligraphy that had been on the note in his bedroom. He shoved the envelope into his rear pocket, put on his sunglasses then hurried out behind Lynch.
They climbed back into the GTO, Lynch looking more than a little pissy as he took off the cufflinks and slipped them into his trouser pocket. Lynch tapped his fingers on the armrest, not even matching the rhythm of the song playing on the radio, until Dai pushed the off button, throwing them both into silence.
Lynch cast him a curious stare. “This isn’t the way we came.”
“I need to cruise through Chinatown a bit. I’m looking for someone who was witness to an incident last night,” Dai glanced at Lynch out of the corner of his eye.
“But this isn’t your designated precinct.”
“What part of East Fucking Cupcake did you come from, papi?”
“I’m from Oswego and is it really necessary for you to curse so much?”
Dai stopped for a red light and glared at Lynch over the top of his Ray-Bans. “I’m from Mott Street and that’s the way it goes around here and up in the Bronx, got it? You want a fact about working gangs and narco, I’ll give you one. If you wanna blend in with the perps, sometimes you gotta act like one.”
It was clear that Lynch would rather be staked to the nearest anthill and Dai wondered how many Asian gods he’d offended to get stuck with this cupcake pussy even for a day.
He made a quick cruise through Chinatown and then past the nightclub but came up with no sign of Wei or Yun, the Captain Jack-looking fucker. He considered making a swing past Bellevue but he figured he’d better get back to the Bronx. Maybe he could pawn Lynch off on someone else.
Apparently everyone at the station house had gotten the Cupcake tagalong memo because the other detectives were conveniently either out on a case or in court.
“Damn, no good assholes,” Dai muttered under his breath. Lynch was helping himself to a cup of coffee behind the dispatcher’s desk, but he had a sour look on his face that said the little prick was more used to some nancy shit like a mocha latte.
“What’s up, Matsui?” The desk sergeant looked up from the report he was signing and peered at Dai over the top of his glasses. “You look like your cat pissed in your Wheaties this morning.”
“If only,” Dai muttered. He tilted his chin toward Lynch, who was now inspecting the label on the creamer with a suspicious scowl. “I need a car to take him on a tour, Sarge.”
“Ah.” The older cop scratched at his salt-and-pepper mustache and snorted. “Your favorite piece of shit Impala is all ready for ya. And have fun.”
Sarcastic old bastard.
Dai rolled his eyes and smacked his hand on top of the counter. “Let’s go, Lynch.”
“Is there any half and half around here? Or something with soy?”
The sarge laughed and Dai cringed.
“I’ll tell the chief to get right on ordering some of that for you,” the older cop snickered.
* * * * *
That’s a scruffy bunch,” Lynch said, his prissy nose in the air as they cruised past a couple of hookers munching fries outside a fast food place.
Dai sneered and pulled alongside the curb. He hit the automatic window button on his side and delighted in the way prissy boy Lynch cringed as a rotund, coffeeskinned hooker leaned in the window, her ample breasts nearly flopping out of her tootight cami.
“Oooohhh you bring us some fresh white meat, did you, Dai?”
“You girls play nice now. Tonia, this is Detective Lynch’s first visi
t to the big bad Bronx.” He took much pleasure when she smiled and touched Lynch’s cheek with one long, red fingernail.
Dai looked past Tonia and signaled to the thin blond hooker standing in the rear of the small group. She came over to his side of the car. “So what’d you hear today when you got your morning fix, Lee? Any new talent picking up where the old ones left off? Any news on who whacked them?”
“I don’t know nothing. And I ain’t no dope fiend,” she muttered, walking away.
“Right and I’m a wet-behind-the-ears virgin like Lynch here.”
Dai smirked, ignoring the death glare Lynch gave him as he raised the window on his side as if to keep the “hooker cooties” away.
“I know you got some skills, Dai. Let me see ‘em!” Tonia called.
“No can do, honey. But you keep dreaming!”
Dai chuckled until he caught a glimpse of Lynch’s stony expression out of the corner of his eye. His laughter died in a heavy sigh.
“This is a serious job, don’t you think?” Lynch said a little too fucking highhandedly for Dai’s taste.
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
“Joking around with prostitutes doesn’t seem like the right—”
Lynch was so fucking lucky the police radio crackled to life. Just as Dai sucked in his breath to give that dickhead the kind of tearing down he deserved, the dispatcher sent out a 10-30 call for a robbery in progress at a bodega nearby. The crime had been called in by a resident who recognized one of the precinct’s female cops as going inside the store. The complainant thought the guy holding up the place had a kitchen knife.
Though a plain clothes detective wouldn’t ordinarily get involved, Dai went with his gut and responded to the call, cutting through traffic to beat the marked cars to the scene. He noticed the blue PT Cruiser with a set of fuzzy yellow dice hanging from the rearview mirror. The car had been parked at an odd angle to the curb, as if whoever had been driving had gotten out in a hurry.Fuck—that was Susan Lenzer’s car.