Vice and Verdict

by Nic Saint

  “Poor woman,” I muttered. “I wonder what happened to her.”

  “That’s for us to find out,” said Lucien, rubbing his hands with glee. “And I get to film the whole thing! This is going to be so great for my vlog!”

  “Um… I don’t think you should film this, Lucien,” I said. “I mean, this is a serious matter—not something to turn into entertainment for your followers.”

  “My vlog is a serious matter,” he said a little haughtily. “Don’t assume it’s not.”

  “Oh, I know. And I’m sure that you have every intention of creating a wonderful vlog, but this isn’t about you. This is about…” I read from the document. “Kandace Slaker. And I don’t think it’s right for you to use her tragedy as a source of content for your vlog.” I leaned in. “Not to mention the fact that whatever we do is strictly confidential.”

  I might not have been a karma agent long, but at least that I knew.

  He stared at me for a beat, then rolled his eyes. “Oh, all right. I’ll think about it before I post anything.”

  “Not just think about. Just don’t do it, Lucien. We’re karma agents, not vloggers.”

  Just then, there was another loud rattle in the pipes and a second canister came zooming into the kitchen, hitting the end station with a dull thud.

  We all stared at it, and even Calvin, returning to the kitchen, seemed surprised. His face lit up. “I knew it! I knew they couldn’t deny the great Calvin Diffley another glorious case to solve!”

  We all gathered around the end station while Dalton plucked out the canister. He took out the document and stared at it dumbly.

  “There’s another name here,” he announced.

  “Of course there’s another name, doofus,” said Calvin. “Here. Let me have a look.”

  But Dalton held it out of reach. “And I’m the case agent!” he announced jubilantly.

  “You can’t be!” said Calvin, sounding disappointed.

  “Oh, yes, I am. This case is mine, bro. Mine and mine alone.” He gave Grandma a grin. “Looks like I’m out of the roof-fixing business, Gran.”

  “Of course you are,” she said with a smile.

  “Is it…” I gulped. “Another murder?”

  He gave the document a cursory glance. “Missing person.”

  “Oh, well,” said Calvin airily. “Missing person. Of course. They wouldn’t want to trouble me with a simple missing person case. Now if it had been another murder, then of course they would have picked me.”

  Dalton looked at him stupidly. “What are you saying, bro?”

  “I’m saying that Karma Corps has elite agents, like me, and lesser agents, like you,” he said, carefully studying his fingernails.

  It took a few moments for the insult to register, but then Dalton’s face took on a reddish hue. “Did you just insult me?”

  “No, I did not. I simply made a statement.”

  Another pause, while Dalton’s little gray cells processed this. Then he cried, “You take that back!”

  “Take what back?” asked Calvin. “It’s simply one of those facts of life.”

  “You just called me a lesser agent!”

  “And there’s no shame in that. It’s just one of those things.”

  Dalton pounded the table with his sizable fist, making plates and cutlery jump and rattle. “You take it back. I’m not a lesser agent!”

  “I never said that.”

  “You just said it!”

  “No, I didn’t. All fake news.”

  “It’s not fake news!”

  “I didn’t say it was fake news.”

  “You literally just said it!”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “This is some great stuff,” Lucien muttered, then raised his smartphone. Filming resumed. He was probably right. We were an entertaining bunch.

  Chapter 3

  We were driving in our car, on our way to the crime scene. Well, actually I was driving and Lucien was filming me while I was driving—which was annoying as heck.

  “Can you please stop filming me?” I asked for the umpteenth time.

  “No, I can’t,” he said glibly. “I’m an artist and this is my art.”

  “If you’re the artist and you’re filming me, doesn’t that mean I’m the art?”

  He thought about this. “I guess you are.”

  “And doesn’t the art get to have a say in the matter?”

  He thought once again. “I guess you have a point,” he finally conceded, and put down his phone. “But I’m still determined to turn this case into the highlight of my vlogging career.”

  “Be very careful, Lucien. Or I will turn you into the highlight of my flogging career.”

  This gave him food for thought, for he was quiet for all of ten seconds, then abruptly changed the subject. “How are things with you and Logan?”

  I frowned. “Logan?”

  “Logan Munroe. What other Logan would I be talking about?”

  “Oh, that Logan. We’re fine, Logan and me. Perfectly fine.”

  “Fine? What do you mean you’re fine?”

  “We’re great friends.”

  “That’s it? Friends? Nothing more?”

  “Nope. Nothing more. Just great friends. That’s us. Being friendly.”

  In truth, Detective Munroe and I had kissed. More than once, actually. But so far nothing much had come of it. He hadn’t asked me out on a date—and the last time we kissed was so long ago I could hardly remember. Those kisses had obviously failed to rock his world the way they’d rocked mine. Or maybe where he came from that’s what friends did. Lock lips and call it a day.

  I noticed how Lucien was staring at me. “What? What is it?”

  “Why are you lying to me?”

  I laughed what I hoped was a careless laugh. “Lying? I’m not lying. Why would I lie about something like that?”

  “Why don’t you admit that you’re smitten with the man?”

  “Smitten? I didn’t even know people still used that word.”

  “He rejected you, didn’t he? That big burly hunk of a gorgeous he-man police detective picked you up and then discarded you like yesterday’s trash.” He shook his head. “I knew it. I knew it the first time I laid eyes on him.”

  I quickly glanced over. “What did you know?”

  “That he would break your heart!”

  “He didn’t break my heart. He didn’t break anything.” I wouldn’t mind if he broke his legs, but I wasn’t going to admit that to a member of my family.

  “Don’t lie to me, honey. He came in, swept you off your feet and then broke your heart. I know the type,” he said, suppressing a sob.

  “What type?”

  “He’s so gorgeous!” he cried, despair clear in his voice. “And he broke my heart so it simply stands to reason he would break yours, too.”

  I had no idea where this was going, and already I was regretting this decision of the Karma Corps administration to team me up with Lucien. Between the vlogging and the drama, this was going to be a tough slog.

  “How can Logan break your heart if he’s never even looked at you twice?” I asked the obvious question.

  “He did look at me! He gave me the eye!”

  “What eye?” Side-eye, probably.

  Lucien gave me a serious look. “He looked at me like only a man who’s very confident with his sexuality can look. A man who knows the effect he produces in another man.”

  “Honey, I’m pretty sure you’re imagining things.”

  “I saw him watching me—full of passion and seething sensuality. He wanted me, and I wanted him. The only reason I didn’t pursue him was because I didn’t want to come between you. And then he did this to you.”

  “He didn’t do anything to me!”

  “Well, that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

  I couldn’t deny that he had a point. I wanted Logan to do a lot of stuff to me, and so far he hadn’t. But was that such a bad thing? Only trouble could ensue when
a Karma Corps agent dated a cop. For one thing, he was bound to find out sooner or later what my family was up to, and if he did he wasn’t going to be able to keep quiet about it. Which elicited a deep sigh from me.

  Lucien looked up. “See? I knew it! I knew he broke your heart and left me to pick up the pieces.” He placed his hand on mine and gave it a tight squeeze. “Oh, honey. Don’t feel blue. There will be others. Men who truly deserve you.”

  I ignored him. “How do we do it, Lucien?” I asked instead.

  He stared at me blankly. “How do we do what?”

  “Date? I mean, what we do should stay in the family, right?”

  “Right,” he said cautiously.

  “So… at what point do we let our significant other in on the family secret? And how do we prevent them from blabbing about it all over town?”

  Lucien removed his hand from mine. He seemed cautious, all of a sudden. Coy, even. “Um… I thought Calvin talked to you about this.”

  “No, he hasn’t. I’m talking to you about it. So what gives?”

  “I think I’m going to plead the fifth on that one,” he said, to my surprise.

  “What do you mean you’re pleading the fifth? Just tell me! What happens when I tell a guy like Logan Munroe that I’m actually a karma agent?”

  “Nothing,” he said, then pointed at a flock of geese flying overhead. “Oh, look. A bunch of big birds. Do you think they’re flying south for the winter?”

  “Don’t change the subject, Lucien. Calvin once told me that if I ever divulged the family secret to Logan he’d be severely punished. But how can that be? I mean, Mom wasn’t a Diffley, and Grandma isn’t a Diffley, either, and still they know about the family secret, and they’re perfectly fine.”

  “True love,” Lucien finally said, after a long silence.

  I glanced at him. “What?”

  “The only way for a non-agent to handle the Diffley secret is if the person’s heart is pure and their love is true.”

  “What happens if their heart isn’t pure and their love isn’t true?”

  Lucien shrugged. “We wipe their minds.”

  Chapter 4

  The old blue Volvo had a hard time getting up the hill. Just north of Happy Bays, the small bucolic town us Diffleys inhabit, is a densely wooded area that morphs into Bethlehem Heights. The modest hills stretch all the way from Happy Bays to the next town of Hampton Cove, and the area is popular with the local sports fans for hiking and running and even a little hunting.

  Today, however, it wasn’t SUVs of locals or tourists that blocked the small trail but a string of police cars and ambulances.

  It was obvious we’d come to the right place to find out what had happened to our latest charge.

  Lucien parked the family Volvo behind a pickup I recognized as Logan Munroe’s and didn’t even bother to lock the car. No one in their right mind would ever want to steal our ancient Volvo when they could steal a car that actually worked instead.

  “I wonder what we will find,” said Lucien after we’d hiked along the meandering dirt trail for a while.

  “I hope it’s not too gruesome,” I said. I might be a karma agent but that didn’t mean I had the stomach for the more graphic aspects of my new job.

  “Oh, don’t worry,” said my brother. “You just hang back while I film the entire scene on my smartphone for you to pore over later on. I can even edit out the blood and gore if you like. I have an actual editing suite on my Mac.”

  “Or better yet: let’s not film anything,” I suggested. “That way people won’t confuse us with a couple of paparazzi.”

  “They can’t confuse me with a paparazzo,” said Lucien indignantly. “I’m a Diffley!”

  As if that gave us permission to traipse around these woods. Then again, it actually did, as there was an agreement in place between our family and Chief Whitehouse, who was in charge of the Happy Bays Police Department.

  We arrived at a small clearing, where a young man dressed in a red North Face parka was seated on a tree stump, looking pale around the nostrils, supported and comforted by an EMT.

  “Probably the one who found the body,” I said.

  “Are you sure?” asked Lucien, pointing to another person, looking equally pale and also being consoled by a paramedic.

  Looking around, I saw at least six more people, all dressed in hiking attire, all looking crestfallen and severely shell-shocked.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked.

  “Beats me,” said Lucien. “But I’m dying to find out.”

  We moved on, deeper into the woods, until we bumped into a very large policeman, who was obviously guarding the perimeter of the crime scene. I could see flashes of yellow crime scene tape all around us, but it wasn’t immediately clear to me where the actual crime scene was. It almost seemed as if the entire forest was a crime scene. Which was impossible, of course.

  “We’re the Diffleys,” said Lucien simply.

  The man nodded somberly and lifted the yellow crime scene tape.

  We moved along and that’s when I saw that a cluster of cops stood gathered around a small black box, located in a hollowed-out tree.

  When we arrived, they all looked up. Their expressions didn’t change, except on the face of the biggest cop of them all: Logan Munroe. Blond, blue-eyed and possessing one of those elusive square jaws, he was dressed in his usual faded jeans and red checkered shirt.

  “I should have known you people would show up,” he growled, looking none too happy.

  “Well, of course we would. We’re here to investigate the circumstances surrounding the death of our client Kandace Slaker,” I said, waving my Diffley Insurance card for good measure.

  Logan shook his head disgustedly. “This is bullshit,” he muttered.

  “What’s going on here?” I asked, ignoring the cop’s outburst. “Where is our client?”

  One of Logan’s colleagues gestured at the black box. “You’re looking at her. At least a part of her.”

  I stared down at what looked like a hand wrapped in plastic. “A hand?” I asked. “That’s all that’s left of Mrs. Slaker?”

  “Oh, there’s more,” said the cop. Then he nodded at a nearby tree, where a person dressed in medical garb sat crouched, examining a small object. When I wandered over, I saw to my horror that it was a foot!

  “What is this?” I demanded.

  Logan, who’d followed me, said, “We have reason to believe that all these body parts belong to the same person.” He then gave me a strange look. “The weird part is… we haven’t positively identified that person yet.”

  “You haven’t?” I asked innocently.

  He shook his head. “Nope.” Then he fixed me with an intent stare. “So how come you’re here claiming the victim as your client?”

  “I, um…” Where was my brother when I needed him? And then I saw where Lucien was. He was standing a little ways away, filming the scene!

  “Let me rephrase the question, Saffron. What makes you so sure the victim is Kandace Slaker? And who the hell told you about this?”

  Chapter 5

  Logan had noticed that Lucien was filming and turned to him. “Um, buddy. Can you put that phone down?”

  Instead of complying, Lucien turned to Logan and started filming the burly detective.

  “Buddy? Lucien? Please stop filming. Now!”

  But Lucien wasn’t easily deterred. “How can I stop filming if you keep looking the way you do?”

  Logan frowned. “Pardon me?”

  “Don’t deny it, Detective Munroe. You look absolutely ravishing today. Do tell me: what is your secret?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” said Logan. “Please put the phone down.”

  “Make me,” said Lucien, sounding a little breathless all of a sudden.

  Logan gave him a curious look. “Make you?”

  “Yes,” said Lucien, his voice almost a purr. “Make me. You bad boy you.”

  “Oh, God,” I muttered when
Logan gave me a look of absolute befuddlement. “Lucien, please do as you’re told. We’re not here to make a documentary.”

  “A vlogumentary,” Lucien corrected me.

  “Whatever. We’re here to solve the murder of our client, remember?”

  “Speaking about solving murders,” said Logan. “You still haven’t answered my question. How did you know Kandace Slaker was murdered?”

  “I’m afraid that information is classified,” I said after a pause.

  “I mean…” Logan shook his head. “We had our suspicions, but nothing has been confirmed as of yet. And I’m positive nothing was leaked to the media.”

  “Tell me about those suspicions.”

  “We found the lady’s driver’s license bundled up with one of her… body parts. Also, we called the husband and he confirmed his wife left the house late last night and never returned.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, Detective. Um, Diffley Insurance has its sources.”

  “A member of the family contacted you, right? Was it the husband?”

  I remained noncommittal, and mimicked locking my lips and throwing away the key. It seemed to exasperate the detective even more.

  “How did you even know where to find her?” he cried.

  I shrugged. “Like I said, that information is classified, Detective.”

  At this, he took me by the arm and rudely escorted me away. “Cut the crap, Saffron. Just tell me what’s going on here and I won’t have you and your brother arrested for interfering with a police investigation.”

  I wrenched my arm free. “You have an obsession with arresting me—don’t you, Detective Munroe? Just remember that last time you did, Chief Whitehouse had a few things to say about it. So please stop manhandling me.”

  “I’m not manhandling you. I’m just a cop, standing in front of a civilian, telling her she’s way out of her league.”

  “Hey, I’m a Notting Hill fan, too,” I said, surprised.

  He gave me a blank look that spoke volumes. He might be paraphrasing Julia Roberts in one of my favorite movies but he clearly wasn’t aware of it.

  “Look, just because my boss told me off doesn’t mean I have to like it.”