Hot Case

by Patricia Rosemoor

  He’d kill the new one if she wasn’t dead already….

  Chapter 11

  I rolled into the office on all of four hours of sleep and a half pot of coffee. I’d barely signed in and checked to see if there had been any luck in picking up Annie—not—when I was told that Commander Caldwell had been looking for me and was in the break room.

  When I found Mom there pouring a cup of coffee, the first thing she said to me was “We have another body.”

  “What? Who?”

  “Another homeless man. Patrol officers found him just before dawn. Same MO as with the other homeless guy.”

  I sighed and threw myself into a chair. That was a mistake. My hip was sore from the fight the night before. “Has the M.E. seen him?”

  “Autopsy’s in progress. Your commander is starting to wonder if he has a serial killer on his hands.”

  Which made me wonder how long it would take before he started talking about calling in the FBI.

  “Looks like we have more than one killer,” I mused, “though they may be working together.”

  Before I could get too uptight about the FBI horning in, Mom changed the subject. “How did last night go at the bar?”

  “Chung went missing.”

  “No explanations?”

  “Something weird is going on with the bar owner. Desiree told me she would take care of him, and I guess she did. She took care of him good enough to give him an alibi for the night Raven was murdered.”

  “You believe her?”

  “Unfortunately.” She wasn’t going to like the next part. “And then after hours, I tracked Mowry and his vampire cult members back to where they’re holed up.”

  “Shelley—”

  “They had an innocent, someone who wasn’t a wanna-be vampire. They cut her to bleed her. We got her out of there before anything worse happened, then tried to find Annie. She was gone. Patrol hasn’t found her, either, and likely they won’t.”

  “And you can’t do anything about Mowry, not at this point in the murder investigation,” Mom said, apparently in tune with me. “Wait a minute. You said we. Who’s the other part of that we?”

  “Jake DeAtley.” I noted how fast Mom’s expression soured and my stomach clenched. Uh-oh. I didn’t remind her that I told her I would take care of checking Jake out myself…not that I’d had time to finish the task personally. “What did you find out about him?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then what’s the problem? He doesn’t have priors or arrests.” Or a driver’s license or plates. “I checked.”

  “When I say nothing, I mean nothing. Nothing on him at all. As far as the world is concerned, Jake DeAtley doesn’t exist.”

  “Jake works at the bar,” I reminded her. “He has to have a social security number.”

  “Wrong. No social. No driver’s license. No credit. Nothing. He’s simply not who he says he is.”

  Remembering what he’d told me, that he was after the person responsible for his mother’s death, I saw that he might want to use a false identity if he was planning to act against the law. Not that the idea sat well with me. The whole hidden-identity thing worried me, even if I was in the same position. I knew my reasons. I wanted to believe his, but Jake’s pretending to be someone he wasn’t added another layer of deceit to the investigation.

  Yet I didn’t want to nail him simply for lack of an identity we could verify. “Let’s not crucify him yet.”

  “You’re giving him the benefit of the doubt? Why?”

  “Last night, he fought by my side to get the girl out of that rat hole.”

  “Fought? You had a physical altercation?”

  “Okay, yes. I didn’t have a choice. But as you can see, I’m fine.”

  We both fell silent and stared at each other.

  I spoke first. “Look, I haven’t been acting recklessly.” At least not with the investigation. Jake was another matter, one I needed to sort out in private. “So I ran into some trouble while working the case. That happens. You know that.”

  “What about backup?”

  “They left before I did. The trouble was unexpected. And I had backup in Jake.” Not that I’d asked for his help. But I had taken what was offered. I wanted to think I would never have gone into the cult’s hideaway if I’d been alone…but I wasn’t sure that was true. “I was simply following the suspect to get a location.”

  “Apparently, you entered that location.”

  I told her about the supposed vampire’s nest under the railroad tracks. “I just wanted to scope the place out. The only reason there was a confrontation was because I heard Annie cry out and I realized what they were doing to her. Should I have left her to them?”

  Mom shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose not.”

  “After, I called Norelli and gave him the lowdown. He said he’d arrange a stakeout on the place and put a tail on Mowry himself. You know I couldn’t arrest him without chancing blowing the murder case against him.”

  Mom nodded. “You made the right call. About the reason I’m here. I stopped by to leave you a stack of files. I got them from Commander Aniceto. They’re on your desk. Maybe they’ll help you figure out who’s getting their kicks out of playing vampire before another person dies.”

  I started when the V-word spilled from her lips. But of course she wasn’t referring to the real thing the way Jake had. And Aniceto must have turned over his cult-research files from when he’d worked the gang unit.

  “Thanks, Commander. It’s good to feel like we’re in synch.”

  Mom nodded and took her leave. I walked her as far as my desk, where a two-foot pile of teetering folders awaited me. Before I went through them, I found the report on Jake. Unfortunately, it shed no light on the subject. If records were the test, Jake DeAtley didn’t exist.

  So I’d been with a ghost the night before? How spooky was that?

  The lab results on Thora’s gargoyle pin were equally frustrating. Yes, there were fingerprints from two different people—undoubtedly Thora and possibly her killer—neither of which were in the data bank. At least I knew that if I had a solid suspect, I could try to match them later.

  I turned to the folders from Aniceto. I spent the next hour going through every notation in the first file, searching for something new and helpful in the case. I couldn’t find anything useful in the articles about some of the well-known cults that had resulted in mass suicide.

  When Norelli and Walker sauntered in, I said, “Hey, look at this loot. All kinds of info on cults. I’m willing to share.”

  “You need busywork,” Norelli said. “So it’s all yours.”

  I was glaring needles at Norelli’s back when Walker said, “I can spare maybe an hour after I make some calls.”

  “Thanks. I’ll count on you, then.”

  That Norelli left it to me was no surprise. Contrary to the way television depicted detectives, we really had individual caseloads. Rather than a single case at a time, detectives had lots of cases to work at once. I hadn’t been assigned a load yet, maybe because the Area 4 commander wanted me to prove myself again. When Norelli got on the phone, I knew he was playing catch-up with his load. Leaving this case to me? That would suit me just fine.

  I’d gotten through that first file when Walker took a few from the stack. Opening the one on top, he mumbled, “Psychiatric evaluations of former cult members,” as he went back to his desk.

  I opened another file, which gave me information on psychological manipulation and abuse, brainwashing and mind control, authoritarian groups, alternative and mainstream religions. More information than I could possibly process in one sitting.

  So I decided to check the contents of each file to see if one stood above the others in the way of being helpful in this case. I found it halfway through the pile—articles about vampire cults across the country.

  Four teenagers from Indiana involved in a vampire cult stabbed one of the girl’s parents to death. According to the sheriff’s office, all f
our teens claimed to be vampires. They admitted to humanblood-drinking rituals—they cut their arms and sucked each other’s blood.

  In another incident, a college student murdered a young woman, cut out her heart and drank her blood because he thought it would make him immortal.

  In a Georgia case, a mother was beaten to death by a vampire cult. A friend said the cult’s sire performed a blood-drinking ritual in a cemetery to induct, or cross over, the daughter as a fellow vampire. “The one crossed over is subject to the sire,” a witness said in a deposition. “The sire has dominance over that person.” A V, surrounded by a number of the same symbol obviously fashioned by different hands, was carved into the woman’s body—signs of the vampire clan.

  Another cult member said his friend had been intent on opening the gates to Hell, which meant he would have to kill a large number of people in order to consume their souls.

  I wondered if Elvin Mowry had any such notions.

  I skimmed other articles, found like stories. More indications that cults used particular symbology to represent them. A pentacle. A Celtic cross. An ankh.

  I read this article in full. According to the author, the symbols went back not decades, but centuries, and had shown up in various places in the world, on dead people who’d been drained of blood.

  I began to wonder about gargoyles. I’d only seen the blackbird on Raven, of course. But LaTonya’s tattoo had been a winged gargoyle. And Thora’d had the gargoyle pendant.

  I got online and searched gargoyles. Gargoyles and grotesques of various sorts dated back four thousand years to ancient Egypt and represented the struggle between good and evil. Some believed they came alive at night. Wings allowed many of them to fly above the populace. Oddly, they were considered a symbol of protection. The word gargoyle, from the Latin gurgulio, had double meaning: both throat and the gurgling sound that water made as it passed through a gargoyle.

  Or the gurgling of blood?

  Had the women been marked as victims? I wondered, considering Raven’s blackbird might qualify to be included. Had someone been trying to protect them? Or were the gargoyles sheer coincidence, simply a Goth fascination?

  I searched gargoyle and vampire together. The first several pages were mostly references to products and Vampire: the Masquerade, an increasingly popular role-playing game. Just when I was about to give up, I found a reference to an article in the London Times. I clicked on the link and read about killings of women relieved of blood through a slash in the inside of their arms. Several of those women had been tattooed with a gargoyle. The cases stretched over a period of decades and multiple countries. There was even a reference to a century-old cold case.

  I printed the article, wondering what exactly it was that I had run into.

  I got home ready to fall into bed for a couple hours of well-earned sleep before doing double duty. Silke was waiting for me, poking around in my fridge. I’d asked her to leave me a couple of outfits and makeup, but hadn’t expected her to be hanging around.

  Part of me was still ticked at her for going over my head. But another part knew she’d done it out of concern, so I was going to give her a pass this once.

  I asked, “Hey, what’s up?”

  Straightening, she shut the refrigerator door. “I decided to wait for you. Do you know you’re out of, well, everything?”

  Non-news. Since my favorite food was anything take-out, I was nearly always out of everything other than leftovers.

  Except for cat food.

  I stooped to give Sarge and Cadet the attention they seemed to want at my presence, but the moment I touched them, they both sauntered off, tails straight in the air. They were obviously annoyed with me for being gone so much the past few days, and they were taking this opportunity to show it.

  I left the kitchen and joined her. “Thanks for bringing the gear, Silke, but you didn’t have to wait.”

  “I didn’t just bring the things you asked for.”

  Nerves were evident in her voice, which meant she didn’t think I was going to like whatever it was she’d added to the list. “Out with it.”

  “I respect your thinking like a cop, Shelley, but in this case, I think you’re being incredibly naive.”

  “Me…naive?” Wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I loosened the ties on my boots and kicked them off.

  “You’re living in this world where things are normal, just the way you think they should be. Only maybe they aren’t.”

  “So you say.”

  “You might, too, if you hadn’t closed off yourself from other possibilities just because you roughed up the wrong guy half a lifetime ago.”

  “Silke, just because you and I have this twin connection doesn’t mean the whole world is abnormal.”

  “There’s nothing abnormal about it. Not our sort of connection, anyway. More people could do it if they tried,” she said earnestly. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on the powers of the developed mind…and that’s what scientists think.”

  “Some scientists.” Kooks.

  “I’ve been doing research for you, too,” Silke announced. “That’s what I brought you in the second bag. Books and videos.”

  I approached the cloth bags with apprehension and opened the research one with the caution of someone afraid a snake would slither out. And so it did, in the form of a heavy tome called Reality Bites: Vampyres among Us.

  “Um, and what am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Read it, of course.”

  “I don’t have time for fiction,” I insisted, dropping the book on the table. I thought of the stack of folders on my desk that awaited me.

  “You don’t have enough time not to consider every possibility! You don’t know when the next person might be turned.”

  “What do you mean, turned?”

  “I was thinking about your being attacked. What if there is a real vampire and the woman who attacked you was recently turned? Then she would need blood.”

  Remembering feeling a nip at my neck, I shook off the memory. “Silke, there’s got to be a more rational explanation for—”

  “Open up your mind, Shelley. The world isn’t all nice and neat. It’s messy and full of nasty surprises.”

  “I know that! I’m a cop, remember.”

  “You may be a cop, but you don’t know all the possibilities, because you won’t even consider anything out of the norm.”

  “Because I’m a rational human being.”

  “That’s your trouble. I just hope it won’t be your undoing.”

  This wasn’t getting us anywhere, and I desperately needed sleep, so I caved. “All right. Just leave the stuff here. I’ll try to keep an open mind when I look at it.” I didn’t promise when that might be.

  Pacified, Silke calmed down, gave me an extra-long hug and left.

  I started for the bedroom, but slowed as I passed the table and glanced at the paranormal research materials. Skeptic that I was, I knew I wouldn’t believe in any of this nonsense, but I guessed it wouldn’t hurt to take a look. After all, I had researched vampire cults myself, and I’d just spent the morning wading through the information Commander Aniceto had gathered. If nothing else, this might give me additional insight into Elvin Mowry’s mind.

  I grabbed a couple of the books and dragged them into the other room with me, where I tossed them on the bed. I was simply going to do my homework.

  After stripping into my underwear, I slid onto the bed with a sigh. Before I could open the first book, a thump on the mattress told me I had company.

  “Hey, Sarge, come on here, boy.”

  But he stayed at the foot of the bed and stared at me out of accusing kitty eyes. I lifted my foot and ran my toes along his side as I opened the cover. He couldn’t help himself from purring, but he settled down right where he was. His idea of a compromise.

  I started to skim the material.

  That vampires—male and female—were generally beautiful didn’t surprise me. I’d gotten that
out of the books that analyzed vampire cults. Looks were always a major issue. Even with purple hair, Mowry himself was a pretty boy.

  According to this book, however, “Becoming a vampire makes one even more attractive and hard to resist.”

  I raised my eyebrows at that one. Somehow, I was sure seeing someone with jaws dripping fresh blood would pretty much be a turn off to me. I flipped a few pages.

  The author wrote, “Vampires can move around with surety in the dark because they operate using a kind of radar.”

  What, like bats? Ha-ha.

  “And all their senses are heightened—sight, smell, hearing, touch.”

  That must mean they worked on overload most of the time, I thought with a smirk.

  “They’re faster and stronger than any human, and their healing power is legendary.”

  So Superman was a vamp?

  “Anyone with psychic powers is too tempting to resist.”

  I guess that made me a prime candidate to a vampire stalker.

  “Drinking blood isn’t just a way for a vampire to stay undead but to boost sexual energy. Although vampires are unable to conceive a child, they have more than enough sexual energy to spare in any circumstance.”

  They might shoot blanks but they were expert at sex? Well, that was interesting, anyway.

  And in a roundabout way, the sex reference reminded me of Jake.

  I slammed the cover down on the book and pushed it away from me just as Cadet jumped onto the middle of the bed with a loud meow. I scooped her to my middle and hugged her there despite her mewling protest. She quickly settled down. Good. Then I slid my toes into Sarge’s fur. His side was vibrating with purr.

  No more nonsense. Sleep was calling.

  And sweet dreams of Jake DeAtley, the man who didn’t exist….

  She sobs and her eye tears and rolls along her cheekbone. “You’re missing it, you’re missing it.”

  Missing what?

  “I’m working on your case. I promise I’m going to find the person who did this to you.” Even as I say it, I fear I won’t really be able to do so.