by Ally Shields
“Yes, that would fit. Decapitated,” Doc muttered, as he carefully poked at the neck bones. “Look here, see the marks? On the C5 and C6 vertebrae. Could be the cause of death.”
“Could be? C’mon, Doc. Can’t you do better than that?”
“With what? No flesh, no blood. I can only tell you what I see, Lieutenant. If I don’t find conflicting evidence on the bones, I’ll list severing of the spinal cord as the probable cause of death. But it will only be my best guess. The head could have been removed after death.” Doc remained unruffled.
“Okay, we’ll call it the presumed cause of death. Tell me about the weapon.”
“Smooth blade. Not a saw. Poor thing. Even the undead can’t withstand such an assault.”
“Are we talking knife, axe, what?” Ryan prompted.
“Patience, Lieutenant. All in good time. Why don’t you busy yourself and search the area?”
“It would be helpful to know what I’m searching for,” Ryan groused.
Ari motioned to one of Ryan’s cops, asking if someone could scare up more coffee for the lieutenant. She thought Ryan could use a refill.
Doc looked up and gave Ari a brief wink. “Wouldn’t mind some of that coffee myself. Any idea who she is?”
“No, and I don’t see anything here to help me figure it out,” Ryan said. “Did she die here? Was she sexually assaulted?” Ryan wanted answers.
Doc gave him a sympathetic look this time. “The remains are too far gone. I’d guess she didn’t die here. No discarded clothes. No signs of scuffle that I can see. The Otherworld Lab might find something, although I don’t know what. Identification will be tough on this one. There are few dental records this old.” Doc shook his head. “Don’t hold your breath for help from me.”
“Any more good news, Doc?” Ryan asked, sarcasm matching his frustration.
“Not for now.” Unfazed, Doc went back to work.
“I’ll have Gillian process the scene,” Ari said. “Andreas can probably help with the identification. If she belongs to a vampire nest, they’ll know she’s missing.”
Ryan murmured his thanks as a cop handed him a new cup of coffee. At Ari’s direction, the second cup went to the doc.
Ryan discarded the lid and blew on the steaming liquid. “Same killer?” he asked her. He scuffed his shoe on the pathway. Not a happy man.
“What do you think? Either we’ve got a serial killer or an epidemic. I want to know if Gillian finds demon energy again. I’ll see if all the halflings were under surveillance last night. I don’t know what to make of the beheading, unless it was done to throw us off.”
“Stop!” Ryan said, throwing up a hand. “I can’t stand another theory. We’re already stumbling around in the dark.” He let out a breath and flashed her an apologetic look. “Don’t mind me. Let’s see if we can find a lead. I’ll process the scene, but I think Doc’s right. Looks like a dump site.” He turned to call to the evidence techs. “Grid search. All the way to and including the parking lot and the road.”
There wasn’t much for Ari to do at the scene, so after a brief look around the immediate vicinity, which yielded nothing new, she headed for her office. Andreas wouldn’t be up for hours, but at least she could make a couple of calls to start searches and notify the Council of the latest murder.
* * *
In the last year, she’d become quite comfortable working in her office. Its biggest assets were the privacy and the coffee pot. She didn’t make nearly as good a brew as Club Dintero, but Andreas had provided her with a bag of his special blend. She sat back now, feet on her desk, savoring her second cup of the day, and considered the latest development. Identifying the victim was the first hurdle.
She placed her first call. Ms. Binderman answered promptly and passed her through to Shale’s office.
“You have news, Ms. Calin?” He sounded eager.
“Not the kind of news you’re hoping for. There’s been another vampire killing.”
Brief silence. “Not another of my clients?”
“We don’t know. That’s why I’m calling. All we recovered are bones. Female vamp, true age probably 50 to 100. Death occurred in the last couple hours before dawn.”
“Only bones? Then how do you know it’s a vampire?”
Realizing few people were knowledgeable of vampire biology, Ari explained briefly about the witness’s description and how vampires decompose.
He didn’t speak right away. “I’m running through our client list in my head, looking for couples where the female is a vampire,” he finally said. “Where did this happen?”
“Don’t know for sure. The body was found in Goshen Park, but it may have been dumped there.”
“Not much to go on,” he mused. “Was this another shooting?”
“I’m not at liberty to release further information. The medicos haven’t completed their findings. We’re focused on the identification right now.”
“I see. Or rather, I don’t, but I respect the need for caution. Why don’t I make some calls? I hate to alarm anyone, but this way they’ll notify us immediately if they don’t hear from their female partners at dusk.”
Ari hoped it would be that easy. Her next call was to Lilith and Russell to let them know the vamp killer was still active. She asked them to spread the word and to ask Andreas to call her when he woke. Her last call went to the President of the Magic Council, so he could notify the council members. She spent the rest of the day checking on police progress and writing her official council notification. She delivered it to the clerk by late afternoon.
At 4:15 Ryan called with the ME’s autopsy report on the bones. “Female vic. No dental hits. ID still unknown. Cervical spine severed. Our lab thinks the weapon was some kind of large blade.” He hesitated. “Like a frickin’ sword was what they said. I suppose you’re going to tell me all we have to do is look for a knight.”
No knights that Ari knew of, but half of the Otherworlders in town might have swords, especially the dwarves. That didn’t include the human collectors, like Shale, or the numerous other civil war and medieval enthusiasts. Sword ownership wasn’t as rare as Ryan appeared to think.
He went right on without waiting for her reply. “We turned up nothing at the park, too clean. Couldn’t have been the primary crime scene. Have you learned anything?”
“Not so far. Shale’s checking with his clients. Nothing from Andreas yet either, but I assume he’s contacting the nest leaders.”
“Someone’s bound to miss her as the vamps begin to stir,” Ryan said, renewed hope in his voice. “Want to catch supper while we wait?”
“Can’t tonight. I’m headed to the club. Another time?” Ari puckered her brow, uncomfortable with turning him down. Ryan hadn’t said much yet, but she didn’t want this thing with Andreas to interfere with their friendship or their working partnership.
“No sweat. Call me if you hear something. I’ll probably be around another hour, then you can reach me at home.”
He sounded fine. Maybe she was projecting her own discomfort about dating a vampire. Damn, why was she so ambivalent? Did she have commitment issues? Wasn’t that supposed to be a guy thing?
* * *
By 8:00 that evening Ari knew identifying the Goshen Park victim was going to be harder than anyone had originally thought. No one had called in a missing lover. None of the nests were minus a female member.
Ari finished the latest phone update from Ryan and joined the others in Club Dintero’s new security room. Russell lounged in a chair behind the desk, Lilith sat on the corner, dangling her legs over the side. Andreas looked like an unhappy Italian Mafioso, leaning against the wall, his eyes dark and brooding.
“Where do we look next?” Russell asked, as Ari walked into the room shaking her head at Ryan’s lack of news.
“If the vamps don’t know who she is, I don’t know where to start,” she said. “Without a description, Lt. Foster can’t search police or online records. We’ve got nothing. She could
have been a stranger passing through town.”
“Or a solitary hunter,” Andreas said, pushing away from the wall. “We have a few. Vampires who, for one reason or another, have chosen to live on their own. They shun their own kind.”
Lilith scowled. “Hunter? Like feeding on humans?”
“Not necessarily. Most use the blood banks or bottled blood, like the rest of us. Hunter is rather a misnomer in this case. Those who hunt humans are considered rogues. A solitary or lone hunter is a vampire who lives on their own because they have not accepted the transformation to vampire life. They often eke out an existence by working manual labor night jobs or the women stray into prostitution.”
“With human clients,” Ari finished. She crossed the room to sit on the couch, Andreas perched on the arm beside her. She looked up at him. “Could that be the human-vampire sex angle again? I know it’s a reach, but I’m running out of easy answers.”
“Not so far-fetched,” Andreas said. “It would provide a link among most of the attacks. I know individual handlers we could contact.”
“You mean pimps?”
“I believe the purveyors of sex who specialize in vampire employees prefer my terminology,” he said. “They will know if one of their women is missing, but they are not likely to report it unless we ask.”
“Then let’s go ask.” Ari got up and started for the door. “Are you coming?”
* * *
She’d had no idea there were so many pimps or “handlers” in Riverdale that used vamp girls and guys. They’d already visited seven without any success. Number eight was coming up. As they drove along the Olde Town streets, Ari satisfied her curiosity about the vamp sex trade by grilling Andreas.
“Not all prostitutes are loners,” he explained. “Some live in traditional nests and work the streets for the thrill or for extra cash.”
Ari’s cynical brain wondered if they were in it for the perk of legally biting humans. Non-lethal “love bites” during consensual sex was one of the few exceptions under the current laws. Probably a smart exception, considering the impossibility of enforcement.
Andreas pulled over and parked in front of a mid-priced brownstone. “This is our address.”
They popped the doors and got out.
“How do you know so much about sex for hire?” Ari asked, sliding a glance toward him as they climbed the front steps.
“Not from personal experience.” He grinned at her. “Never yet found it necessary.”
Ari just bet he hadn’t. His dark, mysterious aura and sexy voice must have had them lining up for the last two hundred years. How many nights would that be? How many women? Like Ms. Slinky. Ari kept forgetting to ask him who the vampiress was. She’d try to remember later.
Andreas pushed the buzzer next to the name of Spenser Jackson. “I make it my business to know what affects the vampire community,” he said, continuing their conversation.
“Yo,” came over the intercom.
“Spenser Jackson?” Andreas asked.
“You found me,” was the reply.
“We would like to speak with you on official business. In private.”
“About what? What kind of official? Who are you? Ah, never mind. Come on up. 310.” He buzzed them in.
“Trusting soul,” Ari muttered with a frown.
They took one look and sniff at the grungy elevator and took the stairs. Entering the third floor, Ari saw Spenser Jackson standing in the open doorway of apartment 310. Assessing gaze, rugged face with a day-old stubble, six-foot-four, muscular body. Jackson didn’t look trusting, more likely unaccustomed to fear. He cocked his head and looked them over.
“Who did you say you were?”
“Don’t think we said, but I’m Arianna Calin from the Magic Council. We’re working with the Riverdale police.” She showed her ID.
Jackson’s face turned wary, but he stepped aside to let them enter. “This is unexpected. Don’t suppose you’re looking for some action? A threesome maybe?”
“Hardly. We are here about a missing female vampire,” Andreas explained. “Possibly a working girl. In your business.”
Jackson lifted his chin, looking even more wary now. “Name? Who is this babe?”
“That’s the problem. We don’t know,” Ari said. “Her remains were skeletonized.”
“Does that mean bones? This babe’s dead and turned to bones?” Jackson’s face creased into lines of disbelief. “I guess I don’t know why you’re here. She must have been missing a long time.”
“Not long at all,” Ari said. “Dead vamps turn to bones in a matter of hours. She died sometime last night. Anyone on your menu missing?”
“My menu?” He snickered.
“Yeah, you’re a pimp, aren’t you?” Why did she always want to contradict Andreas?
Jackson didn’t like the term either. He scowled. “Handler. I run a legit business. Take care of my employees. The nicer you treat them, the longer they stay healthy, and the more money they make. When they’re happy, they’re more willing to share. And they sure wouldn’t be happy about my talking to the cops.”
Ari sighed. She hadn’t intended to alienate him. “Mr. Jackson, I don’t care whether your business is legit or not. We’re here only to identify the dead woman.” When he still just looked at her, she added, “We could bring the PD into this. Discuss the matter downtown. Do some further checking into your business records, your taxes.”
He let out a soft belch, ran a hand around the back of his neck, looked at Andreas’s bland face and back to Ari. When she crossed her arms, he heaved a sigh. “It could be Vanessa. She didn’t check in tonight, and that’s not like her.”
“You know where she stays?” Andreas asked.
“Naw, none of your people tell us that stuff. Not that I don’t understand why,” Jackson added. “Let’s see, got a phone number somewhere. Tried it earlier, but she didn’t answer. Let me get her file.”
He unlocked a black metal file cabinet that stood in one corner of his studio apartment, rustled around a moment, and pulled out a plain manila folder.
“Here,” he said, flipping it open. “Got a picture. Here’s her phone number.” He read it off. “No address. Some business papers. Nothing else important,” he concluded, closing the folder.
“We’ll need the file,” Ari said, sticking out her hand. “And your cell number in case we have questions.”
“No way.” Jackson stepped back, clutching the file. “These are personal business records.”
“Probably very interesting to the IRS if we have to subpoena them. And all the rest of your files. Of course, if you want to cooperate, be a good citizen, they wouldn’t have an occasion to see your files. Your choice.” Ari saw him waver. “Unless, of course, you have something to hide. What do you think, Andreas? Should we take him in on suspicion of murder?”
“Good idea.” Andreas stepped forward.
“Now hold on. Wait just one minute.” Jackson backed another step. “Haven’t said I won’t cooperate. This is on the up and up? She’s really dead?”
“If it’s not her, I’ll return your file,” Ari said, mentally crossing her fingers. Yeah, like hell she would. She’d never be back to see the “handler” again, not unless he turned out to be the killer. It wasn’t unheard of for a pimp to terminate one of his girls. In that case, she’d return with cuffs and guns.
Andreas held out an imperious hand. His force of will filled the room, daring Jackson to defy him. Jackson blinked. Without another word of protest, he scribbled his cell number on the cover and handed over the file.
Ari was on the phone with Ryan before Andreas’s silver Lexus left the curb. He’d left the Ferrari at home tonight. In this neighborhood it would have stood out like a rose among the weeds, demanding to be picked.
Ten minutes later Ari sat with the two men in the police conference room. She had sorted the contents of Vanessa’s file into three piles: personal data, client names, financial records. Spenser Jackson had been a
meticulous record keeper. Every client, every payment was recorded by hand in bold printing. The room was quiet for the next twenty minutes, as they read every scrap of paper and exchanged the three stacks. When finished reading, they discussed all the possible angles. Vanessa had brought in good money, probably been Jackson’s top moneymaker. It made him an unlikely suspect. Of more interest was her clientele. Vanessa hadn’t been an ordinary hooker. A half-dozen of her repeat clients were names Ari recognized. Moneyed Riverdale residents. The type that might be threatened by a call girl willing to reveal their sexual liaison.
Ari picked up Vanessa’s photo for the third time. Sophisticated nut-brown eyes stared at her, framed by long shiny auburn hair. The vamp call girl had a knowing smile, as if she could see right inside your head and learn your secret thoughts or fantasies. It must have been an effective promotional photo for her line of work.
Ari no longer questioned the victim’s identity. The moment she saw the photograph, she knew. The barbs across the back of her shoulders, the momentary heaviness on her heart. It was a feeling she couldn’t explain to Ryan, but Andreas understood immediately. He had sensed it, too. That tiny hole in the magical universe.
Ari looked at the list of client names. Was one of them her killer, making this an unconnected murder, or simply the link in the existing pattern? Vanessa had sex with humans. The association was different—business transaction versus love relationship—but maybe that wasn’t important to the killer. Of course, there still could be a romantic attachment, a human lover, who could even be on this list.
If Ari could connect Vanessa with Shale’s agency, that would clinch the already established pattern. She vowed to dig into the agency’s files first thing in the morning. Maybe it was time to expand their scrutiny beyond staff and clients, to add sponsors, volunteers, or other community contacts with the agency.
Ari rubbed her temples. She was getting ahead of the evidence again. Instead of trying to make the profile work, she should consider the discrepancies. The manner of death, for example. A beheading was more vicious, more messy. Dormant community fears had been stirred by the recent murders. Maybe this was the result of those irrational feelings, suspicions of the unknown, the ‘not me.’ Uncomfortable with her thoughts, she glanced at Andreas. If she was honest, didn’t she battle with some of those same fears? And were they really so unfounded?