Altered Gate

by Altered Gate (retail) (epub)

  “The reason I’m familiar with it, detectives, is because I’m not new to how things work. I’ve been doing this a long time and seen more than you’ll ever be able to accept. If you want to speak to detectives in Toronto, Port Hope, St. Catharines, or Hamilton who I’ve worked with over the last couple of years, I can give you their names and personal cell numbers. I can also give you the number of the coroner’s office in Toronto, and the head M.E. will vouch for me and what I do as well. But, if you want to ignore all that and try to peg this on me, make me your focus so you miss actually catching whoever or whatever is behind this, then I think I’ll just shut up and lawyer up. You want to waste my time, well then… I guess all our time can be wasted.”

  When I stopped talking, the mirror faces shattered and each had a different look on it: from Korkis, more anger brewed forth, but Winger actually looked as if I’d wounded her, as though I had misunderstood what they were trying to get at with their line of questioning. I didn’t misread a thing. It was as obvious as the nose on Korkis’ face.

  “Maybe we should just take a step back,” Winger said, and motioned for her partner to turn away from me so they could have an aside. He reluctantly did and they whispered hastily. I took that time to finally give the room a once-over. I wanted to see if there were any signs of the unnatural in the front part of the office. It was possible that whatever killed Chance had come through there, and if it was a demon or certain types of spirits, there was a chance they’d left a trail or trace, or some other bit of themselves that would cause a eureka moment.

  When they turned back to me, I saw nothing of the sort, but I could see Korkis wasn’t pleased at all with whatever it was his partner had told him. He said he was going to step out and ask the secretary a few follow-up questions, and left me alone with Winger and whoever was in the inner office with Chance’s body.

  “I think we should start this again,” she said, trying to offer a smile. “It’s all just a bit strange, you know. The body in there, and then you come here and say you’re a private eye who investigates X-File type stuff.”

  “Not really. I’m more of a monster hunter than an actual investigator.”

  “That’s even weirder. Good thing Esho didn’t hear that. His head might’ve popped.”

  “You didn’t look too convinced either,” I said, and preferred the way this was going. She seemed more at ease. It could be she was playing good cop, but if I could just give her a chance, she might actually listen.

  “Oh, I wasn’t, and I’m not saying I am, but you’re not really acting like a guilty person. Esho knows it too; I think that’s why he’s so mad. We already had two other cases in the last month go unsolved, plus there was the three from earlier in the year that died at the church.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “There was a church fire—”

  “I think I know the one you’re talking about. The weed preacher.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one. There was a bunch of arsons around the same time—stores, houses, parking garages—but this was the only one where people died. At first we thought it was related to the other arsons, but the evidence at the scene made us re-evaluate that conclusion. Different gas used at the church, while all the others matched; not to mention the bottle used was different as well.”

  “I spoke to someone and they said nobody was hurt, aside from the preacher who had his arm burnt a bit.”

  “He’s actually one of the ones who died. We kept it quiet, and people just talk and come up with their versions of what happened. He died, as well as two teens living there with him. Someone smashed the basement window in and tossed at least two bottles full of gas down there, then tossed a lighter in. They wanted to make it look like a Molotov cocktail, but it wasn’t. The place went up fast, and the three who died had been sleeping down there. I doubt they even woke up. Doctors said they were dead before the flames found them.”

  “Did you know Chance owned that property? It’s one of the places I investigated for him,” I told her, and began to wonder if I was all wrong about this whole case. It really didn’t seem like the church was anything at all, but maybe I should’ve listened to my own gut right away. If there’s a church somewhere in the picture, that’s usually the door to the story.

  “We did, but we really don’t think the two are connected. Although it might explain the torch marks in the victim’s office,” she said more to herself than to me. She drifted off mentally, looking at nothing in particular, and I knew she was trying to put pieces together in a puzzle that made no sense. After a few seconds, she came back to the moment and looked at me. “You want to see what I mean? It might be easier than explaining it.”

  “I’m sure it would, but I’m not one for crime scenes.” She gave me a look then, one that told me “You have to see it to believe it,”, so I nodded and we did what I didn’t want to do.

  I followed her to the office I’d been sitting in only two days before. There were four forensic people already inside. They were taking pictures, bagging random items, and putting markers in areas where items had been removed. None of them were near Chance, so I was able to see him right away. At least, I saw what was left of him.

  Chance was against the wall in a seated position, dressed in plaid pajamas. His hands lay open on either side of him, and he wore slippers. I was surprised by the lack of blood, though, as my eyes found where his head had once been. As I was led in closer, it made sense.

  “In my nine years in this job, I’ve never seen anything quite like that,” Winger said with a hint of sadness in her voice, or just tiredness, and a bit of an I give up attitude.

  To be honest though, I had. Well, it wasn’t exact, but I’d seen something close to it once. There were too many parts of this that didn’t match the previous case, though. In the other one, there’d been a strong odour of brimstone, and the path the demon had taken was marked by scorches along the floor, but in Chance’s office there was none of that. The room smelt the same as it had a few days ago, and the only scorch marks were on the skin of Chance’s neck, where his head had been removed. That part was the same. Not just severed, but from the way the skin looked, there was little doubt it had been twisted off. In the previous case, because the culprit was a Gortho, a species of demon bounty hunters I’ve crossed paths with only once. They come here, looking for criminal demons who’ve escaped whatever Hell they’re from, and send them back by twisting their heads off. Chance looked like a victim of the same bounty hunters, but there were too many things not right about the whole scene. In short, it looked staged.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” she asked me, and I told her about the demon hunter. She listened, and even though she seemed a bit amused by the whole story, she let me finish without laughing at me or calling bullshit. “So, you think this is a demon bounty hunter?”

  “Not really. I mean, I’ve heard of things like this, but not quite the same. There’re too many things missing here; details are just not right. There are signs of demon hunters, but even more signs missing, so I think whoever or whatever did this, it’s trying to cover its tracks by redirecting our attention.”

  “Well, at least I don’t have to put that in my report. I can just see my boss’ face if I did, though. I’d be locked in a looney bin.”

  “Where is the head?” I asked as I looked around the room for it. When the bounty hunters removed the heads in the last case, they were placed on a pile of salt with the eyes removed and an Azerviel symbol (the Lord of Defeat) carved into the center of each forehead.

  “No idea. It’s not here. We figured whoever did this took it, like a trophy. You said you’re staying at a hotel? Mind if we check there? Just to cover all our bases.”

  “Really? You still think I did this?”

  “I don’t know what to believe, to be honest. I’d be more satisfied if you were just some nut who thought monsters and demons were real and killed
this guy, than to think anything you’re saying might be true. Given the options, crazy person is easier to swallow that crazy reality.”

  I only nodded. I understood what she meant, but that didn’t mean I had to be happy about it. I agreed to let her check my car and my hotel room if it’d make her feel better. She said it would, and then asked me what my plan was now that Chance was dead. She asked if I was going to stay in town and try to find what did this or not.

  “I think you guys can handle this. If you’re asking me if I could say a demon or human did that to Chance, I don’t know. I wouldn’t swear to anything under oath. In a different world, I might try and look into it more, but since my client is gone and I’m not getting paid to be here, there’s nothing left for me to do here.”

  Though there was a curious part in me that really did want to know what happened to Chance. I’d blown off any possibility that a monster, demon or ghost had been haunting him. After checking out all his holdings, including the church, I’d found nothing out of the ordinary, yet there he was, dead, and there were signs of it being by an otherworldly agent. I did have to assume there was something unnatural at work as most humans would have a very hard time twisting another’s head off. Yet, my client was gone so I wasn’t going to be paid to look into it any more. Of course, as a hunter, I’m not really supposed to get paid at all for chasing things down, but Toronto is an expensive place to live, and unless I was getting something for my work, my time there was done. “But, hey, if you guys find a lead you can’t explain, something that seems a little out of the ordinary, give me a call.” I handed her my business card. She took it, read it over and her eyebrow immediately rose.

  “‘Dillon the Monster Dick’?” she laughed. “Really? That’s what you went for?”

  “It seemed like a good marketing idea at the time. I’ve been reconsidering it more and more lately.”

  After that, Winger followed me out to my car, and I let her check it. She found a bag of my tools in the truck, and I explained what they were. As most of them didn’t resemble any real weapons, she moved on and found nothing else worth noting in there. She spoke to her partner and told him she was going to go to my hotel room to see if there was anything there to link me to the murder. He was still talking to Ms Mittz, his hands in hers as she cried while he clearly did his best to console her. He nodded to his partner, and we went back to the hotel. I asked if I could text my girlfriend, but she said no.

  “I’m not saying you’re guilty of anything, so don’t get me wrong, but I have to cover my own ass here. You said you’ve worked with cops before so you get it, right? What if I let you call and you give her a signal to hide the head you have there? Not that I really think you do, but, well, better safe than sorry. No hard feelings.”

  Oh sure, no hard feelings at all; of course. Why wouldn’t I have a code word for Rouge to let her know to put the severed head somewhere safe? It only makes sense that I twisted a man’s head off, snuck it back to my hotel room so we could sit around and admire it. And there’d of course be a code word I could use in case I brought company or the cops over. I didn’t say any of that to her, I just nodded as though it made sense to me and there were no hard feelings at the suggestion.

  We pulled into the casino, and one of the concierges started to smile brightly as we walked over towards him and the elevators.

  “Oh my God! You’re the monster guy! Bobo told me you were staying here. Dude, this is so fresh. My bro is never going to believe the monster man is staying here and I met you. Can I get a selfie with you?”

  “Maybe later. Can’t you see I have someone with me?” I said doing my best to sound annoyed with him.

  “No worries, dude. Monster man has a lady to slay. Sweet!”

  “I’m a cop,” Winger said, and I didn’t think she had to try to sound as annoyed as she was by the guy’s comment.

  “Yeah, right. Never seen a cop in the Falls as hot as you. But if that’s your bag, cool with me. Role playing is freaky, but you do you.”

  Without another word we got into the elevator and I could see the frustration on her face. “At least he thinks you’re hot. I never get that. People just keep call me monster dude, or monster guy. Some even called me liar and asshole. They never see my cute side.”

  That at least made her laugh for a second before she asked how the kid knew who I was. I explained about the viral video on YouTube, and how, on the last check, over five million people had watched me fighting a creature in the distillery district in Toronto.

  “So there’s an actual video of you and some monster online?”

  “Yeah. I’d hoped people would think it was a fake. Not everyone does.”

  “Must be giving you a ton of business.”

  “More like a ton of bullshit calls, and an ulcer. Ever since that started, I’ve been getting terrible headaches and stomach aches. To be honest, this thing I was doing for Chance was a little vacation away from all of that. Aside from a few younger people in Niagara Falls, I could almost forget the video was even out there.” I had also forgotten about the other hunter in Toronto, or the potential trouble I might be in. Then, just as I thought of it all again for that brief moment, the pains and nervousness were queued again and I felt shaky. I took a deep breath and tried to move on. I had enough to focus on at the moment than to worry about what might happen on our return to Toronto.

  When we got to the room, Rouge was sitting on the couch in a robe, watching a Disney movie and eating some chips. She looked over with a smile, but when she saw I wasn’t alone, it faded and she looked confused. Before she could say much, Winger introduced herself and gave her a very brief version of what happened at Chance’s office.

  “You’re client is dead? That can’t be good,” she said, stating the obvious. “So why are you here?” she asked the detective.

  “Well, there is something missing from the crime scene, and because Dillon here had contact with the victim in the last forty-eight hours, we need to see if that item is here. You can stay there. I’m just going to have a look around.”

  Winger started her search of our room and Rouge looked at me and mouthed missing. I gave her a look, one of those that would tell her she wouldn’t want to know, but when she persisted, I mouthed his head to her and made a gesture to give her the sense of what had happened to Chance. She looked appalled.

  “You think there’s a dead guy’s head here?” Rouge blurted out to Winger, not even bothering to try and keep it in. “Are you nuts? That’s so disgusting.”

  Winger looked over at her from across the room where she’d been checking the mini fridge. “I don’t really think so, but I have to check. I can’t write my report and say I didn’t cross everyone off my list. I’ll be out of your amazing hair in no time,” the detective said with a wink.

  “No time” turned out to be another ten minutes. I walked Winger to the door and told her again to call if anything popped up that made no sense. She said she hoped she’d never see me again, and I didn’t blame her. After that, I told Rouge we should pack our stuff and get ready to blow that popsicle stand.

  “We’re leaving? What about the case?”

  “What about it? The client’s dead. And the cops are on it. I don’t think they want my help.”

  “But they can’t handle this kind of thing, can they?”

  “Since I don’t even know what this thing is, they’re just as likely to solve it as I am. Plus, I gave the cops my card and told them to call me if they find anything too weird or need me.”

  “Did you give it to them, or to her?” she asked, and there was something in her tone and look I’d never really seen before. It almost came off as jealousy.

  “Like you have anything to worry about, gorgeous. I know what side of my bread is buttered. Don’t fret. Now, let’s pack up and get the hell out of here.”

  Monday

  The next day I tried
to turn my cellphone back on to regular service. As soon as I looked at it, getting food and coffee in me while it powered up, I saw over a hundred missed calls, thirty-two text messages, and fifty voicemails—which is the max I can get. I scrolled through and deleted every message first. They were all garbage. Each of them either called me awesome or a liar. It was more of the same with the voicemails. I found I could skip and delete each of those within the first sentence. There was one inquiry that sounded as though it could be legit, so I wrote down the info and thought I’d call back after I messaged Rouge to see if we were hanging out later.

  A few minutes after I sent her one, she messaged back saying maybe later tonight. She needed to go pick up the pup, do some shopping, and run a few other errands. That would give me time to call back the potential client and see if it was something worth my time or not.

  I dialed the number while I made a second coffee. On the third ring, a man picked up.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Don Parks,” I said.

  “Speaking.”

  “My name’s Dillon. I’m returning your call.”

  “Oh, thanks for getting back so quick. I saw your video on YouTube the other day and really hoped you could help me.” I instantly worried it’d be more of the same. Another crank, a waste of my time, and I readied myself to hang up. Still, there was a chance it could be real. Fingers crossed.

  “Your message said something about a weird shape in your basement, and a certain smell, too. Can you explain it a bit more?” If he was lying, he would probably mess up recalling what he’d left on the message.

  “Yeah, sure. So, I don’t normally use my basement, it’s kind of a dark and creepy place I just keep my Halloween and Christmas decorations. I went down to grab my Halloween stuff about five days ago, and when I did, there was something down there. I didn’t get a real good look at it. It was just out of the corner of my eye, but it wasn’t a rat or a raccoon. It was way too big for that. It was about the size of a small kid.”