The Corpse Whisperer

by H. R. Boldwood

  I plopped beside him on the couch, with an agenda of my own. “Something’s been gnawing at me for a while now, Leo.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and waited for me to continue.

  “When you turned yourself in, you gave over the mob’s books, right?”

  Leo nodded once, eyeing me, no doubt wondering where this conversation was going.

  “Smart guys always have a second set of books. You know—the dummy books to protect their clientele. And the real books. And the really smart guys, like you, keep a third set. Maybe a duplicate of the books you turned in.” I looked him dead in the eye. “Leo, where’s your set of the books?”

  He squirmed. “I don’t have any books. I turned them in. Why the hell would I keep a set? What would I use them for?”

  “You tell me. Insurance, maybe?”

  “Honest. I swear. I don’t got any books.”

  I let out a sigh. “’Fess up, Buddy. There’s been a trail of zushi a mile wide, following you ever since you got here. The Mob’s after you because of what’s in those books. Somehow, some way, whatever is in them has to be connected to the zombie influx.”

  I paused, giving him time to reconsider, but his stony stare signaled we were at an impasse. Time for a different angle.

  “Leo, has it ever occurred to you that your being bitten wasn’t some random, cosmic joke? That maybe you were targeted? If I can look at the books, maybe I can figure this whole mess out.”

  Leo’s eyes turned dark. “I told you, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cosmic joke? You might consider me getting bit a joke, but I sure as hell don’t. For the last time, I don’t have any damn books. Period. Now let it drop or I’m going to bed.”

  I had no doubt that Leo could lie with the best of them. And I was sure he was lying to me. But why? Was he protecting someone?

  Short of beating it out of him, my only option was to try to get him to open up. But that would come another day. His drawn face and bloodshot eyes told me he’d had enough. I changed the subject and turned on the TV.

  “Guess what I taped last night?” I said. “Dancing with the Stars. I’ve taped every episode this season. I never know when I’ll get the chance to sit down and watch it.”

  As we settled back on the couch, Ferris returned alone from his conversation with Dickhead, and Nonnie carried in the fresh pot of coffee.

  She kissed Leo on the cheek. “Is beauty parlor night. Wash and set,” she said, primping her blue-tinged hair. “Buonanotte, Leo.”

  He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. “Grazie, signora dolce.”

  I watched her walk across the yard, and then turned to Ferris and asked, “What did Dickhead want?”

  “Micromanaging. Making sure I was here and that Leo was secure. He also told me that my replacement at midnight is Andy Capple.” Ferris chuckled. “Andy’s one of the old guard. He’ll enjoy Nonnie’s cooking, just don’t count on him hopping over any fences to chase bad guys.”

  Sedentary security, courtesy of Dickhead. I might have known.

  Ferris flopped beside me on the couch and sat quietly, while Leo and I, catty bastards that we were, took potshots at the Dancing With the Stars judges.

  “That Len,” Leo said, waving off the TV. “He’s so full of shit. Gives no points for originality.”

  Leo sat up straight and tilted his nose in the air, mimicking Goodman. “‘With all that gyrating, I didn’t see the basic steps. You’ve got to include the basic steps.’ Ah, blow me, you old fart. Get out of the forties.” Leo’s eyes lit up as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Nighthawk, one of these nights, I’m gonna take you dancing. Show you how it’s really done.”

  I damn near spit out my coffee.

  “Thanks for the invite,” I said, looking down at the steel-toed, zombie-stompers on my feet, “But I don’t even own a pair of heels, let alone dancing shoes. Me doing the paso doble in these clodhoppers? There’s a disturbing visual.”

  Ferris busted his gut laughing.

  Leo harrumphed and rolled his eyes. “Slacker. How you ever gonna learn ballroom, without dancing shoes? You lack commitment, Nighthawk. That’s the problem.”

  By ten o’clock, the stars were finished hoofing it. Leo looked relaxed and content, but tired. He plodded down the hallway to go to sleep, leaving me and Ferris to pass the time alone.

  Not much of a small talker, I wasn’t sure how comfortable I’d be, waiting for the minutes to pass until the changing of the guard at midnight. Something else to look forward to. Another stranger in my house.

  But Ferris seemed at ease, and chatted like we’d known each other forever. We fell into an easy rhythm, complete with natural breaks in our conversation that didn’t need to be filled. We were…sympatico. That boded well.

  I asked him what it was like working bomb disposal and before he could answer, the doorbell rang again.

  What the hell? It was after eleven o’clock.

  Ferris pulled his gun and peeked out, from behind the blinds on the living room window. “It’s De Palma. And he’s with that news chick from Channel Ten.”

  “Yeah. They’re…dating.” The last word scratched like sandpaper on the way out.

  I opened the door, loaded for bear, thinking Jade had returned to take me on for round two of the exposé argument. But one look at them told me this wasn’t a social call.

  Rico’s face and shirt were bloody. Jade’s dress, wet and torn, clung to her legs, and her long black hair hung in tangled strands down her back.

  “Lock the door behind us. We’ve got a situation,” Rico announced, as he hustled Jade inside. “We were leaving Fountain Square, and a couple of biters popped out from between parked cars.”

  He stared at me incredulously. “Nighthawk, they came right at me. They actually plowed through a group of people to get to me. People scrambled through the street, pushing and shoving, trying to get away. Absolute chaos.”

  “I got knocked into the fountain,” Jade whined. “Look at my dress.”

  “Wow. What a shame,” I deadpanned.

  “Let me grab you a towel,” Ferris said, shooting me a disapproving grin, as he headed toward the bathroom.

  Rico wiped his face with his hand and it came away bloody. “The bastards caught me by surprise. One of them knocked me flat and I smacked my eye into somebody’s side view mirror on the way down. I pulled my backup piece from my ankle holster and nailed them both, before they could do any real damage.”

  My heart went into overdrive. “You’re sure? No bites, no scratches?”

  He walked to my freezer, pulled out a bag of frozen corn and held it to his eye. “No. I’m fine. But this shit’s getting real, fast.”

  Rico was right. Things were escalating, but whoever was pulling the strings knew Rico could handle a couple of rotters. If the bastard had wanted Rico dead, he would have killed him. This had all the markings of a warning shot over the bow. My bow.

  Fine, then, I thought. Come and get me, asshole. I’m right here.

  Ferris returned with a bath towel and handed it to Jade. The pretty little princess dried herself off, shaking and sniffling, like the world’s biggest wussy.

  Little Allie couldn’t have shut my mouth with super glue.

  “So, Jade,” I said with a smirk. “How good’s that biter exposé looking now?”

  She fixed me with a smoldering stare. “I’m more determined than ever. Just try to stop me.”

  Damned if that chick wasn’t a freaking albatross around my neck.

  28

  Eeny, Meeny, Miny, Moe

  Rico checked the lock on the kitchen door and switched on the backyard light.

  “These biters,” he said, as he tried the window over the sink. “They were freshies. And not just freshies, they were suits. You know? Like if they hadn’t been dead, they could have passed for Feds. Dress shirts, jackets, ties.”

  “Did they have tatts?” I asked.

  Rico squinted at me from behind the frozen corn. “I didn�
�t notice any, but then, I was a little busy.”

  Jade wanted to shower, so I showed her to the bathroom and gave her fresh towels and a clean set of clothes.

  Leo wandered out of his bedroom, eyes blinking against the bright hall light. “What’s going on out here? You trying to wake the dead?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “No worries, Leo. Go on back to bed.”

  He blew me off and padded barefoot down the hallway to the living room, stopping short at the sight of Rico, sporting the bag of corn over his eye.

  “What the hell happened to you?” Leo asked.

  Leo didn’t need to hear about the night’s attack. He had enough problems of his own. I tried to signal Rico, but he ran his mouth before I could stop him.

  “Some biters blitzed me tonight, while I was out with Jade.”

  Leo’s mouth gaped. “And all you got was a black eye? I’d say you got off lucky. What about your hotsy-totsy news chick?”

  “She’s fine. Just taking a shower and getting cleaned up.”

  Despite the fact that it was closing in on midnight, I put on another pot of coffee. The four of us sat at my kitchen table, throwing around theories.

  Rico touched his cheek and winced. “Obviously, this was a targeted attack. We must be getting close to something. From now on, boys and girls, best have eyes in the back of your heads.” He held the bag of corn against his face. “But why come at me? No offense, Nighthawk, but I would think you’d be the target of choice.”

  Now there was a fun thought. Maybe tonight, Rico had simply been a target of convenience, a way to toy with me. Maybe I had a big old bullseye on my butt.

  But the little brain bitch with the mega-mouth suggested otherwise.

  “What if,” I asked Rico, “they weren’t targeting you—or me?”

  The four of us slowly eyed each other.

  “Well, don’t look at me,” Leo burst out. “I’m already bit.”

  Rico cast me a skeptical eye. “Say that again?”

  “What if they were after Nancy Newshound there?”

  I swept my eyes toward wet-headed Jade, who had walked into the kitchen dressed in a pair of my boy shorts and a tee that read Queen of the Damned.

  “Time to come clean, Jade,” I said. “Who have you been interviewing for your zombie exposé?”

  She leaned against the wall and struck a pose, as if playing to the camera. “My sources.”

  “What sources?” I was milliseconds from mauling the smirk off her face.

  “You know I can’t tell you that, Nighthawk. What kind of self-respecting journalist would I be, if I divulged my sources?”

  And just like that, the gloves came off. “You might be the living kind, unless I get tired of your narcissistic, entitled little—”

  Rico cut me off. “Jade, if you won’t give up their names, at least tell us what kind of sources they are. Are they specialists of some sort? Scientists? Other whisperers? Government officials? What kind, baby. Just tell us that much.”

  “I went a completely different route,” she said. “A…darker route. And that’s all I’m going to say.”

  Darker. The one word I didn’t want to hear coming out of her mouth. I knew darker. Darker could get her, and everyone around her, killed, including me. Especially me.

  I’ve got a thing about being thrown into holes dug by other people. I don’t like it. If not for Little Allie and Rico, I’d have said to hell with it, and pulled the names of the sources out through her nose, right then and there.

  Instead, I pointed at Rico and said, “She’s got her head so far up her ass, she can see her belly button. You’d better talk some sense into her, before it’s too late.”

  Rico got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. “We’ve taken this subject as far as we can tonight. Somebody pick another topic.”

  “Fine,” I said, with more ’tude than I’d intended. I swiveled my chair toward Jade. “There’s a hair dryer under the sink in the bathroom. Help yourself.”

  She flashed me a thumbs up and disappeared down the hallway, giving me a chance to discuss the investigation without worrying that she’d blast it across the evening news. Still, I waited until I heard her turn it on. Couldn’t be too careful, with a sneaky-ass bitch like Jade in the house.

  “How’s Weston coming along with identifying the warehouse biters?”

  Rico leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “So far, they’re coming up empty. I called him tonight, before I picked up Jade. They’re still digging, though. Director Horton will have their asses, and mine, if they don’t come up with something soon.”

  He carried his coffee to the table, sat in his chair, and asked me, “Have you had any more thoughts on the identity of the snitch?”

  That was the question of the week. I was so sure it had been Ottis. It almost had to have been.

  “No,” I said. “But we’ve still got Dom’s phone. My plan will work. I just need to hit redial at the right time. The snitch’s phone will ring and we’ll have him.”

  I was glad Rico didn’t ask how I’d know when the right time came along. I was kind of hoping the brain bitch would clue me in at the operative moment.

  Midnight arrived and so did Andy Capple. I could see what Ferris meant about not expecting the guy to scale any walls. He looked to be in his mid-50s, maybe 6’2”, 280 lbs. and balding. With his round-frame glasses, he could have been a computer nerd. Or a really big minion.

  I offered him some coffee, but he had a Coke slurpee with him. An instant pang hammered in my heart. I missed my nightly Jack Daniel’s slushies.

  Ferris introduced Capple around, and then asked him, “So, how much do you know about the case?”

  Capple looked at Jade, questioningly, and Rico asked her to wait in the car.

  “No way,” she said.

  “Pick somewhere,” I said. “The grown-ups need to talk.”

  She glared at me. “Fine. I’ll go fix my make-up.”

  She stomped down the hall to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  Capple walked with us back to the kitchen, took off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair, revealing the biggest shoulder holster I’d ever seen. He carried a Glock. Good gun. He automatically got bonus points for that—assuming he could use it.

  “So, back to the case…” I said.

  He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled. “I don’t know much. I know Leo will be testifying before the grand jury and I’m filling in on babysitting detail. That’s about it.”

  Ferris covered the lay of the land, and reviewed the exits and entrances, then he opened the cabinet door next to the refrigerator and pulled out a syringe.

  He held it up in front of Capple’s coke-bottle lenses. “Leo was bitten by a deadhead a while back. This is his medicine. He needs to take it every day—and any time he has a seizure, in-between doses. If, for some reason, Nighthawk isn’t around and that happens, you’ll need to know where it is. Small seizure, it goes in the thigh. Big seizure, it goes straight into the heart.”

  Capple’s eyes grew wide and he asked, “He’s not…contagious…is he?”

  Leo flinched. So did I. There went those bonus points.

  “No. No, he isn’t,” Ferris said, walking Capple back into the living room.

  Ferris continued to talk, his voice fading as he rounded the corner. “There are a few things you need to know.”

  I couldn’t hear what more he said, but I was sure it had to do with the ins and outs of contracting the virus—and not talking about Leo like he wasn’t in the room.

  I glanced over at Rico and we both grinned. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that we were thinking the same thing. Ferris was stepping up. He hadn’t known this zombie shit coming into this case, but he’d been a damn quick study and he always treated Leo with respect.

  Rico and Ferris? They were two of the good guys.

  Capple returned to the kitchen, a slight flush on his cheeks. The kind of fl
ush that comes from getting dressed down.

  He made a point of smiling at Leo, nodding his head, and saying, “Nice to meet you, man. You let me know if you need anything. Okay?”

  Leo rose from his chair and gave him a quick nod, then walked past him, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. “You too, Capple. I’m going back to sleep now. Later.”

  Rico fished Jade out of the bathroom, and announced they were calling it a night.

  “Hang on a minute,” I said, running back into the bathroom.

  I grabbed Jade’s dirty dress off the floor and shoved it into a plastic trash bag. Hey, I don’t even do my own laundry, I certainly wasn’t going to do hers. And neither was Nonnie.

  I closed the door behind them and then turned to Capple, stifling a yawn.

  “There’s still some coffee in the pot, if you want some later. I’m headed off to bed. Call me if you need me.”

  I grabbed Hawk out of my shoulder holster and carried him into the bedroom with me. Nothing like a cold, hard piece of steel to keep you warm at night.

  Although, as I drifted off to sleep, a wistful smile on my face, I pictured a couple of hot officers who could crank up my thermostat nicely.

  29

  By the Light of the Silvery Moon

  At 2:00 a.m., my eyes flew open. Dogs barking outside. Headbutt, who had been curled at the foot of my bed, now stood at the window, eyes unblinking, ears peaked. I lay still, listening.

  Another sound.

  Thump… Thump… Crash. The garbage cans?

  Damn raccoons.

  A growl thrummed in Headbutt’s throat.

  Nonnie’s porch light switched on and shone against my bedroom wall.

  I climbed out of bed and peered out the window to find a full moon, not a cloud in the sky. Things looked right enough. But Little Allie wasn’t convinced.

  A few minutes later the sound came again. Thump… Thump… Thud.

  What the hell?

  Something, or someone, was in my backyard.