Harvest Of Evil

by William Lehman

  *****

  "L T, has anyone had a sensitive in here to check for magic?" I asked.

  "No, why?" Her smirk was gone, suddenly.

  "I think we have a bona fide case of 'murder by magic' here. Check it out, toxicology, nada, same for microbiology, etc., yet the bodies look like they tried to fight off a massive infection and lost, this looks like something out of the Bible ya know?"

  "I think you may be reaching, but you can check it out. The FBI doesn't want it, so it's our case to solve, and as of now you are off the patrol roster, and on these two cases, I want reports at least twice a week, even if just a set of contact reports."

  In books and TV shows, there's always a task force, and lots of officers to do all of the work, and they have absolutely nothing else to do except catch the murderer of some unknown bum. In the real world, I had no task force, and we were so short of officers that if I didn't make some progress on this in a couple weeks, I would start getting other cases or put back on the patrol schedule and eventually this would go to the cold case file where it would sit forever, unless someone got lucky and solved it by accident in the process of solving something else.

  Then the Lieutenant surprised me, "Oh, by the way John, NICE job on this, it didn't turn out to be something infectious, but according to the CDC folks, you handled it perfectly, if it had been infectious, the damage would have been limited to the initial responder, and contained. Expect to be talking to the district office and personnel soon. Oh, and by the way, we served a warrant on Crag while you were screwing off in the trailer. You'll be getting a summons eventually, We got him for multiple counts of poaching, and violation of the Endangered Species act. Your contact report was enough to get the warrant. Thanks. "

  "Aw shucks."

  4

  Two hours later, I had a sensitive from the crime lab at Olympia on the horn, and had arranged for him to come out tomorrow first thing and take a sniff around. He assured me that no harm would be done by waiting an additional day, any residue from a spell potent enough to kill four people would hang around for weeks.

  So with that taken care of, I went home for some well deserved rest. It seems I am now part of the Detective Division, at least temporarily, which came with a promotion to Corporal that was not temporary. Hey, the extra money is nice, and at least while I am with the detectives, I pretty much make my own hours, which is really sweet. All of this news came in while I was trying to contact the right people at the Olympia lab. Just getting them to admit that they had a magic expert on staff was like pulling teeth, and then getting the guy on the phone, and getting him to agree to come out to the site was even worse. Washington hadn't had a magic related murder in 75 years, and while they kept an expert on tap, he was primarily a forgery and fraud type.

  No one wanted to be in a position of confirming the possibility that someone in Washington might have died from magic. We are a very progressive state, and rather liberal, (OK REAL liberal, at least on the west side of the mountains), it was said that if your feet were wet, you worshiped dirt, if your feet were dry, you farmed it. This referred to rain shadow of the Cascades, Western Washington got all the rain, and all the California and Massachusetts liberals. Eastern Washington got all of the farmers, ranchers, conservatives, and got to pay for the social services for Western Washington. The last 'Murder by Magic' had been before the Second World War, and had been done by a Water Witch that had been stiffed by her client after finding him an underground lake for his ranch. She had cursed his water, killing half his herd, and getting him too by accident. The local community 'uplift' society had taken care of her before the sheriff could get there. The sheriff cut her down and burned the body on the spot. The callousness of this act caused such a backlash in the cities, that Washington was the first western state to recognize the rights of magic-users and remove the bounties for Lycanthropes and Vampires. There are some famous pictures of the riots in Life magazine.

  This was the real start of the protection of magic-users laws. Admittedly it didn't change much until after the war, but it was a start. However, there is still a Federal law against 'Murder by Magic', and it's one of only six crimes that will get you a Federal death penalty. They use it about once a year or so, it's not a real popular crime, if you're found guilty the death penalty is applied immediately, no appeals. Of course the ACLU screams bloody murder about it, but they don't get very far. The last Mage that got a normal trial and appeals process was in New York in the Sixties after the civil rights laws tried to change everything. The ceremonial magician that had been locked up for murder, was undergoing an appeal based on Fourth Amendment Rights. He opened a portal and brought in a demon to cause confusion as part of his escape attempt. He escaped all right, directly into the demon's stomach. Seems that while he had been doing murder as part of his sacrifices, he was behind in his payments. A bad idea when instead of breaking your knees, the loan shark's muscle EATS you. The only trouble was that the demon went on to eat thirty-three other prisoners, and twelve guards. Congress practically broke their necks reversing the law changes regarding appeals for mages after that.

  Still, Washington finds the death penalty barbaric, at least in Western Washington, and would really hate to admit that one of the "Little Green Isis People" might actually do someone harm. Why, we actually had our first openly Wiccan governor about six years ago, and I have to admit that he did a fine job too. Of course no one wants to call attention to the fact that Wicca isn't the only magic game in town, and some of the various sects, religions, and ceremonial magic-users are down right scary. So I got a lot of stonewalling and turf battles before I got what I needed, and then I only got it by threatening to bring in a Federal Preternatural Investigator. The FPI was the brainchild of J. Edgar Hoover, as an adjunct of the FBI, and has a really bad reputation. Sort of like Torquemada with a badge and a gun. I really didn't want them in here anyway. The FBI had already stated that they didn't want the case (too low profile no doubt), so I didn't have to call in their evil stepson, or even notify them if I didn't want to. But I needed a sensitive damn it, and if Olympia wouldn't play ball, then I would get who I could. Well, I guess Olympia decided that if someone was going to check for magic in a murder, they would rather it be someone that didn't want it to be true, rather than someone who would assume that it was true until proven not, so they coughed one up eventually.

  *****

  I took my time on the drive home, it had been a really stressful couple of days. Getting shot at beats the hell out of waiting around to find out if you're going to have your lungs dissolve. The drive down SR 2 toward home was mellow, midday there isn't that much traffic. As I got down off the mountain, the place started to warm up. Early October isn't cold down near sea level here, but the mountains get chilly quick. I put the radio on KMPS, the local country station, and turned down the police radio. If they wanted me, they were going to have to call the cell phone, I had had enough for the day. I took my normal turnoff, a gravel road that winds north toward Lake Chaplain. A couple minutes later I was home.

  Home is a 3-bedroom log house that the brochures called a 'chalet'. I suppose it looked a bit like a Swiss ski lodge, but there were some changes made. I had a gazebo-type structure placed on the point where the two ridges crossed, the entrance was via a spiral staircase in my bedroom. It looked sort of like a bell tower on the outside. Inside you could see the steel plate that went waist high all the way around. The rest of the house was squared off ten-inch log, kept natural. The roof is green and looks like metal. (Actually it's a Kevlar fiberglass. No maintenance, just wax it once a year with spray-on wax, guaranteed for fifty years, and has the added benefit of being almost as bullet-proof as the walls.) They say a man's home is his castle, and I believed in that. This place had cost me a bit, but I was single, so I didn't have any draws on my cash except what I wanted, and I wanted a house that would take some serious work to destroy. Short of a BMG 50 caliber, this place was bullet-proof.

  I had a garage about
seventy-five feet away from the house, with the same construction style. The Durango went in one side, the other side was my wood shop. The yard was open and flat for seventy-five yards all the way around the house, and there were signs posted at the edge of the property (twenty acres) and again at the edge of the yard, warning trespassers that if they were found here at night, they would be found here in the morning. That and an array of very well-hidden motion detectors seemed to do a fairly good job of keeping unwanted visitors out. I didn't have much issue with animals setting off the motion detectors, most of them got one sniff of me and decided that they had an appointment elsewhere. I walked the property line once a month with a few beers and pissed every fifty feet or so, the animals got the message. This trick would work for a normal human, for a 'Thrope it's even more effective.

  I parked the Durango in the garage, walked into the house, up the stairs, got out of my BDUs and into a set of sweats, put my Taurus in an Uncle Mike's fanny pack, and went for a run. Running is the best way I know of to get rid of the excess tension I had been building up. I hadn't always been a runner, but between my affliction, and the time in the Teams, there had been a few changes. After five miles through the trees around Lake Chaplain and back I felt much better. It's funny how running can set your mind free, it's a Zen thing I guess. Anyhow, about halfway through the run I started to get a few ideas about the case. When I got back to the house, I called Lt. Murphy, and asked her if the next of kin of the four identified victims had been notified yet.

  She said "No, the chaplain is going to do that job later this afternoon."

  I replied "OK, have her hold off until I get in, I want to be there when we tell them."

  "I thought you wanted the rest of the day off, John?"

  "Yeah, so did I, but I had an idea while I was out running." I muttered.

  "OK, how soon can you get to the office?"

  "Give me an hour, I need to shower and get dressed again."

  "See you here." Murphy said and hung up.

  I took a quick shower, put on a suit and tie, and put my Beretta back on, this time in a hi-rise pancake holster, then put my Taurus in a holster on my ankle, put my badge on a belt clip, scooped up my Blackberry/ cell phone, and headed out the door. Forty-five minutes later, I was pulling into the office in Monroe. As I walked in, I nodded to the front desk clerk, Tammy, and ducked into the back. There was our chaplain, in uniform. Reverend Tonia Smothers was the preacher at the Monroe Unitarian Church, and acted as the chaplain for details such as this. We had tried to get someone that would be able to deal with just about any religion that a victim had, and Unitarian was the best we could come up with. She gave me one of 'those looks' as I came through the door, the look that said "if you harass these people while I am telling them that their sons are dead, I will kick your ass into the middle of next week."

  I gave her my most innocent smile, and said "Not to worry, I'm not going to hassle the newly bereaved, I just want to know who they hung out with."

  "OK John, but I know you, and if you browbeat these people, I will find a way to make your life miserable," she said with a scowl. Tonia was a veritable Valkyrie, six foot, blond, about 200 lbs, medium build. I am not sure what tradition she followed, but I didn't think I wanted her pissed off at me.

  "Really, I promise, the parents didn't do anything wrong, and I know that, and the kids paid way more than they earned for the wrong they did. I just want to find the other guy that they were working with. There has to be a fifth kid involved, and I need him."

  "Well, it's your case, but remember what I said." With that, she headed out the door to her car. Tonia drove a red Mustang, I got in the passenger seat, and we were off. While she drove she told me that one of the victims (George Geisendanner) was from Virginia, and that she called that family while waiting for me to get in. I didn't have any problem with that, George's family probably didn't have anything useful anyway, and I could always call them if I needed to.

  *****

  The first family that we got to was Charles Alberts', a home in Lynnwood. Mom and dad looked like they had money. Of course I sort of figured that anyway from the way the kids had acted, but it's nice to have your suspicions confirmed. As we walked up the door was open, and we could see though the screen. 'Mom' started crying as soon as she saw us, I didn't say anything, I swear. Dad had that "I have to be strong for the wife" look. This is about when it occurred to me that the kids had been dead for five days, so if they are in contact with the parents on a regular basis, these folks would know something was wrong. Damn I hate my job sometimes. It's funny, I would have busted these kids in a second, and if one of them had drawn down on me, I would have shot him out of the saddle without a qualm. But to face the parents and tell them that their son had been murdered in the commission of a drug crime made me feel like five kinds of asshole.

  Dad came to the door, and said, "It's Charlie, isn't it?"

  Tonia nodded. "I'm sorry Mister Alberts, but your son is dead. Officer Fisher was there when it happened." She made a gesture at me.

  He turned to me, "How did he die?"

  "We think he was killed sir." I said. It sounded lame the second I said it.

  "What do you mean, you think he was killed? She said you were there when it happened, don't you know?! And when did it happen?!" Now he was angry, and I was the easy target.

  "Sir, your son's death is part of an ongoing police investigation, I believe he was the victim of a 'Murder by Magic', and it happened on Friday the twentieth of September in the mountains north of Index."

  "Magic's a bunch of bullshit, there is no such thing. What killed my son, and why did it take you so long to tell us, if it happened on Friday?" He was red in the face now, and his wife was frozen in place, not saying a thing, tears pouring down her face, horror printed there.

  Tonia bailed me out, "Sir, can we come inside, this isn't the sort of thing I think you want on the front porch, and I think your wife needs you."

  I thought to myself to buy her a drink later for that. It took us twenty minutes to get the pair of them calmed down, and I had a hell of a time trying to pussyfoot around exactly how they died, (not something I wanted to tell a bereaved mother and father) and that if they hadn't died, they would be in prison right now. They had no idea who Charlie might have been associated with, yes, I could have their permission to search his dorm room, and bedroom here at the house. I said that I would be back tomorrow or the next day to do so, and placed an evidence seal on the door of the bedroom asking them to please not touch anything, it might be a clue as to who killed Charlie. After that we left for the next house.

  *****

  Anthony Bivens' parents were the next up on our little tour. They lived in Redmond, up a winding street off of 202. Real exclusive neighborhood, 'houses from the low 700's' (that's thousands), Anthony's parents must have been part of the local software scene, that or part of Boeing. We pulled up in front of a powered gate and camera rig that looked like it belonged on a Federal security area, instead of a private home. There was a button there, which Tonia dutifully pressed.

  The camera hummed as the lens focused in on us, and the speaker said "yes, how may I help you" in cultured tones.

  Tonia and I held up our ID cards, and I held up my badge where the camera could see it. Tonia said "Reverend Smothers, and Officer Fisher to see the Bivens, please."

  "Are you expected Madam and Sir?" said the cultured voice, seemingly unperturbed.

  "No, but it is official business, and I must ask that you let us in please."

  "Very good, you will be met at the front of the house, Madam."

  With that, the gate lifted up, and we drove in. The house looked like it sat on more land than it actually did, some really good landscaping work here. The house itself was a three-story place that looked like it belonged in the countryside of England somewhere as a noble's 'country estate'. These folks either had serious cash, or serious pretensions. There was also a four-car garage to the left of the hous
e, and a circular pull around drive. In front of the house was a middle aged man in real honest-to-god livery. This guy just screamed muscle.

  When we pulled up, he opened the car door for Tonia, nodded to me, and said "Officer, Reverend, if you would follow me, please?" It was the same voice that we had heard on the PA system, so this was no doubt their security officer, and possibly their butler as well. As he turned, I noticed a bulge under the right armpit, most folks would have missed it. I could also smell gun oil, yep, definitely muscle. He led us to an office on the second floor, all red leather and dark wood, very 1800's. With a "Please wait here, Mr. Bivens will be with you shortly" he was gone.

  Tonia looked at me, and I looked at her, both of us had an "Oh boy, this is going to go well" expression on our faces. I said "I don't think they know why we're here, this feels more like the sort of greeting I expect to get during an investigation."

  Before Tonia could reply, the other door to the room opened and a short gentleman in a polo shirt and Dockers walked in. As we stood, he walked up to us, offered his hand, saying "Anthony Bivens, what can I do for you folks?"