by RJ Blain
“Well, less that you’re not around, more that she’s trying to spare you from the interrogation going on in there. She’s getting frustrated.”
“The cops are telling her what protocols they have to follow in the investigation, aren’t they?”
Joe’s brows shot up. “Do you read minds?”
“No, I just know Sassy. She’s probably trying to find ways around the rules so she can do more direct investigations without breaking any laws. She would’ve been better off plotting the malicious relocation of fire ants.”
“You’re probably right. Can you please derail that nightmare before she says something she regrets?”
I passed the tongs to Sassy’s father. “All right.”
In the time I’d been gone, the living room had turned into a war zone, complete with a digital murder board displaying a grid of all the victims killed. Maxwell’s picture cut deep, but I found some comfort that Sharon Gray’s image hadn’t made it to the display—yet. “How’s Sharon?”
The conversation ended, and Sassy popped off the couch and bounced to my side. “Grover says she’s stable, but it’ll be a while until she’s out of the woods, and they needed a lot of wolves to donate because she had severe internal bleeding. They’ve stopped the worst of it. Grover’s cautiously optimistic she’ll make a good recovery, but until her virus matures and she shifts, she’ll have impairments.”
I frowned. “What sort of impairments?”
“A round went through her shoulder. You probably hadn’t noticed because you were more worried about the chest shots. A lot of broken bones, but the virus will eventually repair it. She just won’t have full mobility in her one arm for a while.” Sassy poked my chest. “How is your chest doing?”
Ouch. “I sense a cranky Sassy. And yes, it’s still bruised and hurts.”
Narrowing her eyes, she pulled her hand back to jab me again, but instead of nailing me in the chest, she flicked my nose. “You ran away and left me with these… these… these cops.”
“Are you upset they’re cops, upset you’re not a cop, or frustrated because you’re hungry, aren’t getting anywhere with the investigation, and otherwise want to go knock heads together and arrest people because you have names, but you don’t have enough evidence to push through an actual arrest yet?”
“All of that with emphasis on the hungry part,” she admitted.
“Your brother’s about to take the corn off the grill, so you’re about to be fed. Now, that said, where can I get one of those things and how much do they cost?” I pointed at the digital board. “I use a whiteboard and markers, and I need one of those in my life. I will buy it myself, but I need one.”
Chief Braneni arched a brow. “Then you need to work your ass off and become an upper tier homicide detective. The lower tier detectives get whiteboards and shitty markers.”
I laughed. “I like how you’re honest about the marker quality. Noted. Bring my own markers… or buy my own digital board and share with people who give me coffee.”
The cops snickered, and the tension in the room relaxed. While I’d seen most of the cops a few times, I hadn’t had relationships with them like I had with Maxwell. At most, I knew their last names, and I sought out one of the older cops I’d run into enough times to remember his last name. “Officer Tulfield, you’re in investigations. How’s the board situation?”
“The digital boards make us all more efficient, so he’s working on getting them for everyone. I’m sure there’ll be one around when you get through preschool.”
I expected a lot of ribbing from the older cops in the near future, so I forced myself to grin. “I can handle a whiteboard, but I’m not going to tolerate bad markers. That’s condition for a revolt.”
Sassy jabbed me in the ribs. “Aaron!”
“What? I’m spoiled. I can’t investigate properly if I have crap markers, and if they’re the ones that squeak, the entire station will hear whenever I’m working. That’s just unacceptable. I bet the digital boards don’t squeak.”
“Aaron, take this seriously.”
“What’s the best way to sass you about this, Sassy? This seems to be a prime opportunity to sass, and I’m afraid you’re usually the sassing party, so I’m going to need instruction to properly do this.”
She stared at me, her expression less than impressed. “I don’t know what you were doing outside, but you seem to have returned to me in an odd humor.”
“I avoided death by archangel, and I may have embarrassed myself more than a little.”
Her brows rose. “How?”
I told her how I’d informed an archangel I was less than devout as my opening volley, then I confessed my sins of wishing an assortment of cruel punishments on those responsible for the murders. “I didn’t break any laws, but that wasn’t one of my better moments. At least, I don’t think I broke any laws.”
“It’s only breaking laws if you attempt to turn those wishes into reality,” Chief Braneni said. “And frankly, that’s tame compared to what most of us are praying for right now. There’s a general trend, and it involves a dark alley and the perfect murder, but that’s what separates us from the bad guys; we aren’t going to act on it however tempting it may be. They’ll get their day in court.”
“Unless a rain of chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and ants kills them,” I muttered.
“Aaron, you didn’t.”
“I’m going to blame this on Joe and the lycanthropy virus. Joe’s medications removed the filters over my mouth, the lycanthropy virus obviously contributed, and you were so funny when you were mumbling about fire ants in your sleep. I asked for a cherry on top, though. I figured if I was going to go all in and vent to an archangel, I might as well do it right.”
She sighed and shook her head. “However satisfying that might be, that’d be a waste of chocolate syrup. I’ve acknowledged the errors of my thinking. I have a lot better things I can do with that much chocolate syrup.”
Chief Braneni chuckled. “I don’t want to know, but I’m glad you two are doing well despite everything. You’re looking a lot better than I expected, Aaron.”
“Having my first shift helped a lot. Joe took care of the rest.”
“Still. You did good work in a pinch. There was nothing you could have done for Maxwell. There’s no happy ending to this story, but there can be closure. This applies to you, too, Sassy. Once you start working the streets, you’ll find there’s as much heartache as there are triumphs.” Chief Braneni sighed. “His funeral will be in three days, and I’m sure he’d like for you to be there. His wife asked if I’d talk to you. Everyone who isn’t on duty will be in attendance, but we’ll have our own farewell after this case is a wrap. It might be a while.”
“What do you need from us to make that happen, Chief?”
“Keep your noses clean and do what you do best. You know the rules. Don’t mess this up,” he ordered.
Some things were easier said than done, but I’d make do somehow, as always.
Chapter Nineteen
It took until midnight before everyone left, and another hour after to help clean up the mess, dismantle the excess picnic tables, and otherwise restore the Chetty house and yard back to order. If I got my way, I’d make it to Sassy’s bed, flop onto it, and sleep for several days. My phone, a replacement Sassy had picked out after the crash, rang. As nothing good came from a call after midnight, I answered the call without looking at the screen. “Aaron Clinton speaking.”
“Chief Braneni here. I have a question for you.”
“I could have sworn I just saw you an hour ago. What can I do for you?”
“When did you express your interest in a rainfall of unusual composition?”
That was one way to put it. “Maybe five minutes after I found out there was an archangel in the backyard.”
“There are interesting reports of rainfalls of unusual compositions lighting dispatch up.”
Shit. “You’re serious.”
“Rather. W
e’ve also had a few individuals of interest come into the police station eager to talk to us. Might you know anything about that?”
“Do I need to go to the station, sir?”
“No, no. That’s quite all right. Obviously, it’s absolutely impossible for a solitary lycanthrope fresh from his first shift to have anything to do with these curious and somewhat disturbing incidents.”
“Is Tom Heatherow involved with any of these calls?”
“Not that I’ve heard yet, no. Anyway, I thought you’d want to know that your rather unusual method of requesting assistance seems to have borne some fruit for us. I recommend you watch the morning news. You’ll find it very interesting, I’m sure. Do give Sassy my regards.” Chief Braneni hung up.
I stared at the darkening display of my phone. “Hey, Sassy?”
“What is it?”
“I think I made a mistake, possibly. But I’m not sure it’s a mistake. Are you okay to drive? There’s something I want to look into.”
“What could you possibly want to look into?”
“Tom Heatherow’s house.”
“Why would you want to go there this time of night?”
“I want to ring his doorbell and ask him a question.”
“At one in the morning?”
I nodded. “Yes, at one in the morning.” Tom Heatherow tended to stay at his home unless he had reason to go out, and he’d been staying at home a lot more frequently with the investigation going on, something I’d found annoying as he’d often requested we visit him. “Also, did he make you go to his place to give him the photos and discuss the contract?”
“Of course. He’s too good to come to us. I should have told you, sorry. My brothers tagged along for the ride, but it didn’t take long and I didn’t go inside the house. Told him I had to get back to the hospital.”
“We have new information for him.”
“We do?”
“We sure do. We’re going to politely inform him that we have reason to believe Sharon Gray is heavily involved with the local lycanthrope packs, and because we’re generous private investigators, we’re going to give him some pointers on how to deal with the packs if he wants to gather more information about her. That counts as useful information following the conclusion of our contract, which we may feel is worth mentioning.”
Sassy’s eyes widened. “Daddy? Aaron’s really aggressive, and it’s starting to worry me.”
“Pack the boy into his truck, let him do what he wants, and if you’re going to be keeping him awake all night long, don’t do it in my house, young lady.”
“Daddy!”
“What? I’m an old man. I need my beauty sleep. Late nights are for the young. Take Joe with you just in case. Joe? Go with your sister and keep her out of trouble.”
“I definitely won’t be keeping Aaron up all night long if Joe’s with us,” Sassy growled.
“What the hell? Now I’m a birth control method? That’s not cool,” Joe complained, strolling over. “Beats putting the picnic tables back in the shed, though. Where are we headed?”
“Tom Heatherow’s house.”
Joe scowled. “Mark! Need you for a road trip.”
My brother joined us, and some dumbass had given him a hunting rifle. I pointed at it. “Where did you get that?”
“Dad. He said if anyone looked at you or the future mother of his grandchildren the wrong way, I was to shove it up their ass and fire. I’ll spare you the rest of the lecture.” Mark patted the rifle. “I don’t need a carry permit for this puppy, and it wasn’t on my list of weapons I wasn’t allowed to handle without adult supervision.”
“I’m with you, Mark. I count as adult supervision. No firing unless I give you the order.” Joe stared at my brother until he scowled and looked away. “Get your ass to Aaron’s truck and sweep it for unwanted friends. You’re good at that.”
Mark jogged towards the front yard cradling the rifle like most people cradled infants. I worried my brother had finally snapped. “Unwanted friends?”
“Trackers. Happened once, it could happen again. Maxwell’s partner hadn’t been near your new truck, but there were plenty of people who were, so it’s worth a look. It’ll only take him a few minutes, and he likes the work.”
“I’m going to have to suggest to Dad he shouldn’t give Mark any more weapons until he has an evaluation.”
“He’s probably infected with lycanthropy, and he’s riled up because he can’t go on a hunt. He works with the lycanthropes in the field, so it’s entirely possible. He’d shake out as a wolf, though.”
“What’s one more wolf around Dallas?” Sassy muttered. “When’s he due for testing?”
“I’m going to take him in after things settle down. It’s not like there’s a cure, but he’s definitely been snappier than normal and ready to indulge in violence. I can’t say I blame him. I’ve been ready to take names and shove various weapons up asses this week. Why are we going to Tom Heatherow’s house?”
“I’m hoping for a miracle.”
Normal people called the excessive house at the end of the street a mansion, but Tom Heatherow preferred to think of it as his cottage. I supposed if I dumped the whole thing in the Alps, it might blend in as an oversized cottage. It stuck out compared to the nicer homes on the street, most of which were ranch-style homes better suited for the Texas heat.
The lights were on, his Mercedes sat in the driveway, and I hoped a little harder we might see a real miracle happen before our very eyes.
I’d even deal with a few ant bites if it meant we could get a confession out of the bastard.
Sassy parked behind the Mercedes and killed the engine. “Are you really sure about this, Aaron?”
“I’d like you to hang back, please. This could get messy.”
“Messy how?” she growled.
“Not bloody, if that’s what you’re worried about. Well, I hope. That’s why Joe’s here with Mark. If things look like they will get bloody, Mark can take care of it. But Mark? Unless shots are fired, I swear, if you put your finger anywhere near the trigger, I will kick your ass so hard Joe and Grover will have to work together to surgically remove my foot from your kidney.”
“Ouch, Aaron. That’s just wrong.” My brother sighed. “I won’t touch the trigger unless shots are fired or look to be fired. But if he’s armed and points a gun anywhere near you, I’m shooting first. I’ll accept the surgical removal of your foot from my ass if necessary.”
“Sassy?”
“What?”
“There might be a splatter radius, and I’d rather your pretty shoes didn’t get messy. You may want to leave them in the truck.”
Sassy blinked. “You want me to do what?”
“Leave your pretty shoes in the truck. They’re the blue ones. I really like the blue ones, and I’d be sad if they were damaged.” I smiled at Sassy, leaned towards her, and kissed her cheek. “There might be ants, so you may just want to stay in the truck. Record with your phone. It might be worthwhile.”
“What have you done, Aaron?”
“I haven’t done anything. Scout’s honor. I’m just seeing if there’s any substance to what Chief Braneni called me about.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Just humor me, okay? Take your shoes off if you’re coming with me, and stay back, all right?”
“Why am I staying back?”
“You might lose your temper and try to strangle the bastard. If you’re behind me, I can catch you before you indulge.” I grinned at her and winked.
“That’s… actually accurate. Okay.” Sassy contorted behind the wheel, showing off her legs while removing her shoes. “I’ll refrain from strangling him no matter how much he deserves it.”
“Good.” I slipped out of the truck and headed for the front door, considering how best to get the bastard to step outside. I strolled up the walkway, rang the doorbell, and took several steps back.
Tom Heatherow cracked open the door, and his eyes
widened when he spotted me. “Mr. Clinton?” he blurted.
“Mr. Heatherow,” I replied, lifting my hand to flick him a salute; I missed having a hat, as I would’ve dipped the brim instead. “I wanted to stop by to apologize for not notifying you myself of the circumstances and deliver your pictures in person. I know Sassy handled the deliveries, but I wanted a chance to talk to you myself.” I made of show of admiring his house, something I’d done every other time I’d visited him. “Nice lighting here, by the way. It’s my first time here so late in the evening. I would’ve come earlier, but I got sidetracked.”
“I understand,” he replied, and his expression turned puzzled. “Thank you for coming. I wasn’t expecting to see you at all.”
“I learned some new information, and it seemed fair I come over and talk to you about it.” I took a few steps back to admire the lamp-lit flowers lining his walkway. “It won’t take long.”
Tom Heatherow stepped out of his house and closed the door behind him. “You have new information?” The eagerness in his voice matched his stride, which lured him out of his house.
“Some, yes. It’s about Miss Gray,” I said, lowering my voice. “And the company she currently keeps.”
“Currently keeps? How is that important to me?”
I clasped my hands behind my back and wandered a few steps away to look over one of his flowering bushes, a rose as far as I could tell. “They’re a possessive lot, so if they find out you were looking into her, they might cause you trouble. Suitors.”
“Suitors?” The astonishment in his voice boded well for my ploy to lure him outdoors. “What suitors?”
“She’s an attractive woman, and she’s getting older. It’s not surprising she’s looking to settle down and possibly marry, and there are plenty of men willing to accept her for who she is and who she was. You were aware she’s infected with lycanthropy, yes?”
“What? She’s infected?”
“Yes, she is.”
My confirmation lured him out of the house, and he stepped onto the path to join me. “How—”
When I thought of rain, I thought of drops falling from the sky. During a bad blow or a hurricane, it’d come down in sheets. Chocolate didn’t drip, drop, or even sheet. It plopped, splooshed, and splattered, thick, oozing, and warm enough my skin crawled. I caught the edge of it, and I hopped a few steps back to escape the worst of it.
