Pretty Little Fliers

by Erin Johnson

  I dipped my chin and grimaced. “Sorry.”

  He dropped his pained expression and winked. “Just kidding.”

  I gaped at him. Who was this guy? Most cops I knew would’ve had me in handcuffs for punching them, but Peter had turned it into a corny joke? I bit my lip. Though if he wanted to put me in handcuffs, I wouldn’t mind….

  “You okay, Jolene?” That little line appeared between Peter’s brows as he searched my face. “You look a little flushed.”

  I shook myself mentally. “Uh, yeah. Just—” I gulped. “Annoyed that you got me.” That flush had nothing to do with the racy train of my thoughts. Nothing at all.

  Daisy barked. Lie!

  I flashed my eyes at her. Shut up, Daisy! I waved it off to Peter.

  After another moment of hesitation, he spun and led the way up the broken steps to the graffitied metal front doors and yanked one open. Daisy and I followed him inside a dim hallway. A flickering pale lantern hung from the ceiling, giving us brief glimpses of the graffiti-covered walls and the stairs that led up to the next story.

  Peter pulled the red-and-black business card Amelie LeBec had given us from his trouser pocket and held it close to his face. “The address says suite 2B.” He glanced at the stairs. “Must be the next level up.”

  He put away the card and exchanged it for his wand. A ball of white light flashed bright at the end of it, and he used it to light our way up the creaky stairs. I shuddered as we hit the landing and turned up the second flight.

  Were there any other people in this whole building? Except for our footsteps and the creak of the stairs, the place was eerily silent.

  I followed Peter and Daisy down the long, windowless hall on the second story. More flickering lanterns hung overhead among the rusted pipes and peeling paint.

  I curled my lip as we stopped outside the door marked 2B. “Some place for a photography studio.”

  Peter smirked. “Not much in the way of ambience.” He knocked at the door, and I huddled closer to him as the raps echoed down the hall. Still nothing and no one stirred.

  After we got no answer, he tried the brass knob, rattling it. “It’s locked.”

  I shrugged. “Guess we’ll have to come back then.” I couldn’t get out of this creepy place fast enough. Not that I wasn’t used to seedy locales, being born and raised in the Darkmoon District and having spent the last few years back in the warren of alleys full of shifty people. But this was different.

  I thought back to my Walkman on the couch. It was the only way I could sleep. When every creature from the tiniest gnat to the dog barking down the street was shouting words you could understand, it was hard to get any peace. But this place? Nothing peeped—nothing. And frankly, it freaked me out.

  “Come on, let’s go.” I tipped my head toward the stairs.

  Peter’s lips tugged toward a grin. “You’re creeped out. Huh.”

  I crossed my arms. “What you do mean, ‘huh’?”

  He shrugged and turned back to the doorknob, holding his wand just above it. “It’s just—you seem so tough and unflappable.” The grin he’d been holding back spread across his face. “Turns out all it takes is a rickety old building and you’re quaking.”

  My jaw dropped. “I’m not quaking.”

  Little zaps of light flashed at the end of Peter’s wand and struck the doorknob. I frowned. “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t look up. “Picking the lock.”

  I hiked my brows. “Uh… illegal search and seizure? Any evidence we find inside can’t be used in court unless—”

  He grinned as he continued to work. “—unless I already got a warrant to search any of the victim’s personal effects or properties. I made sure to include that when I got permission to search her apartment.”

  “Oh.” I closed my mouth and watched him in silence. Daisy’s tail swished over the ratty, stained carpet. “That was—smart of you.”

  He glanced over and winked. “I’ve been on the force long enough to learn a thing or two.”

  I glanced longingly once more at the stairs behind me, then moved closer and leaned my back against the peeling wallpaper beside the door.

  “Why, if Bim had this studio, would she ask Amelie LeBec to meet her at Turk’s office?” I folded my arms across my chest. “I bet those photos of the office you had developed off her camera were her testing different lenses and filters.”

  Peter nodded as he worried his lip. “I think you’re right. And that’s a good question.” He grunted as another flash of light zipped from his wand to the doorknob. “This thing’s really spelled tight.”

  I spun to face Peter, who dropped into a crouch in front of the knob and peered through the keyhole. “And why is this place so quiet?”

  Footsteps sounded behind me, and we all froze. I glanced over my shoulder as a dark head of hair appeared in the stairwell. “Who’s up here?” a deep voice called.

  I glanced down at Peter, who extinguished the light at the end of his wand. Only a few flickering lanterns lit the dark hall.

  A guy with broad shoulders finished tromping up the stairs and headed down the hallway toward us. He lifted a hand to his face, which was obscured in the shadows. “That you, Bim? Come crawling back, huh?” He scoffed. “I knew you were bluffing.”

  We had some kind of misunderstanding going here. “Uh—I’m not B—”

  Peter grabbed my wrist and flashed his eyes at me. He still crouched in front of me, both he and Daisy blocked from this guy’s view.

  I closed my mouth, eyes locked on Peter’s, and gulped. He clearly wanted me to let this guy think I was Bim, but it was hard for me to stand there, my back to some strange guy in this creepy place, putting all my trust in a cop, of all people. I took a shaky breath, then gave Peter a slight nod. I’d play along.

  The footsteps grew louder. “Relax, okay? I took care of it. They’re all dead.”

  Peter and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. Who was all dead? Did he really think Bim was still alive?

  “Bim! Hey, Bim?”

  The voice sounded right behind me; he couldn’t be more than ten feet away. My breath came in short gasps.

  Peter rose to his feet, and Daisy let out a low growl. I spun around.

  The guy was only a couple inches taller than me, but had muscles on muscles… and tattoos on top of those muscles. Two diamond studs in his ears twinkled in the pale, flickering light. His dark eyes grew round as he took us all in.

  “What the sh— You’re not Bim— Who’s—” His eyes landed on the badge at Peter’s chest, and he whirled and booked it down the hall, arms pumping, toward the stairs.

  “Daisy!” Peter cried.

  The dog sprang forward, barking, and in a few bounding leaps caught up with and tackled the man to the ground. She stood, paws on his back, bared teeth at the back of his neck, growling.

  I pressed my lips tight together as Peter strode past me and stood over the whimpering man. I gulped, my throat suddenly parched. Maybe I should tone it down and stop picking on Daisy.

  I watched them a moment longer before walking down the hall to join them. Nah.

  24

  Jake the Snake

  “Why’d you run?” Peter hauled the man to his feet by the collar of his skintight button-up.

  “Uh.” The guy’s thick brows lifted as he looked from me back to Peter. “’Cause you’re a cop?”

  I scoffed at Peter. “Dur.” I mean, that was practically the first lesson you learned growing up in the Darkmoon District.

  The guy dusted himself off as he edged further away from Daisy, who watched him with laser focus. “It’s not generally a good sign.”

  Peter narrowed his eyes as he towered over the man. “Who are you?”

  He lifted his chin with its perfectly sculpted beard. “Jake.” He looked me up and down, laying on the smarm. “Jake the Snake to the ladies.”

  My eyes widened. “Does that work for you?”

  I glanced down at myself, from my worn
boots to my stained shirt. And really? Me? Maybe the dim light and knock to the ground had done some brain damage. Or maybe he just couldn’t help himself—anything with legs got the “Jake the Snake” treatment.

  Peter’s brow furrowed at Jake, who stared me down and nibbled his full bottom lip. “What are you doing here?”

  Jake folded his bulging, tattooed arms across his buff chest. “I’m the landlord.” He waggled his brows at me. “What you doin’ here? Getting some photos taken?” He sucked in a breath over his teeth, his eyes on my butt. “This like a before-and-after thing?”

  My face fell flat, but my blood boiled. I gritted my teeth and balled my hands into fists. “Keep it up, and your face will be a before-and-after thing.” Not my best, but when a brow arched and he leaned back, I realized it had gotten my message across.

  Daisy let out a low woof. You need a muzzle.

  “Psh.” I rolled my eyes at her. She didn’t even know what I’d said—or what that eel had said to me! He’d started it!

  Peter shifted on his feet. “So you knew Bim?”

  The guy’s lip curled as he looked the officer up and down. “Yeah. I know Bim. She rents that studio from me.” He jerked his chin toward the door we’d been trying to break into.

  “Did you run because you killed her?” Peter’s hard eyes bored into the man.

  “What?” Jake’s lips curled and he took a few steps back, his eyes darting between Peter and me. “What is this? Bim’s dead?”

  Peter edged closer, and Daisy’s hackles rose. “Maybe she and you were fighting….” He gestured around at the dilapidated place. “Maybe you weren’t taking care of the building like you’re obligated to, so she moved her operation to a new location.”

  I pressed my lips together and nodded. That wasn’t a bad theory. It would explain why Bim had been taking photos at the office last night.

  “Maybe you killed her”—Peter narrowed his eyes—“to get her to stop complaining. Or out of anger for breaking her lease.”

  Jake the Snake (fish food—he had me adding on his awful nickname even in my head) dragged a hand down his face and cupped his chin. “I didn’t kill her.” He shook his head and leaned against the wall. “I didn’t even know she was dead.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Snakes.”

  “Do you have an alibi for your whereabouts last night?” Peter and Daisy stared Jake down.

  The landlord pressed himself up against the wall to get further away from them. I lifted a brow, slightly impressed that Mr. Upright and Honest could flip the switch and get intimidating. Of course, his enormous hairy beast of a dog helped a little.

  “Yeah, course.” Jake’s bare chest heaved, exposed by the fact that he’d left the top five buttons of his shirt undone. “I was here all night.”

  “Can someone verify this?” Peter arched a brow.

  Jake the Snake nodded, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, look, the place has gotten a little run-down, okay?” He lifted his palms. “I admit it.”

  One of the pale lanterns overhead flickered out, casting the dark hallway in even starker shadows.

  “Ahem.” He cleared his throat. “Bim and I—yeah, we clashed over the state of the place. All the time, though—this wasn’t anything new.” His dark eyes grew round as he stared up at Peter.

  “Final straw was the cockroach infestation.” He shrugged his beefy shoulders. “She said she was moving out—a few other tenants agreed with her, so…” Jake rolled his eyes. “So I took care of it.”

  “Took care of it, or her?” I lifted a finger.

  He shook his head, eyes wide. “It! I was here all night supervising the exterminator—he led all the bugs out of the building, Pied Piper style.”

  I shook my head, lips pressed tight together. Another one of my career options, after the curse, had been something similar. There were witches and wizards who could lure things through song, or by playing the flute—but I could’ve just told the roaches to beat it or they’d get potioned to death.

  Still… as annoying as dealing with pets and their helicopter owners was, it was preferable to spending all day with pests.

  Jake lifted his palms. “You can check with the exterminator—we was at it all night.”

  I nodded. It explained why the place was deadly quiet. Jake, shockingly, seemed to be telling the truth.

  Daisy looked up at Peter and whined, her tail swishing. True.

  Even the vunder dog agreed.

  “Besides.” Jake looked down and toed the threadbare carpet. “Why would I kill Bim? I took care of that hassle she was complaining about.” He looked up. “Why would I kill off a steady, paying tenant, huh?”

  Peter watched him a moment longer, then let out a quiet sigh. He seemed to be conceding Jake’s point. “Can you think of anyone else who might have wanted to hurt her? Did you know of any issues with clients, for instance?”

  “Nah.” Jake kept his eyes down. “She was a sweet girl, mostly.”

  Peter nodded, his eyes distant as he mulled it over. He glanced back up at Jake. “Do you have a master key to her space?” He looked down the hall to door 2B.

  “Oh, yeah.” Jake dug around in the pocket of his black jeans and fished out a brass ring packed with keys of all shapes and metals.

  “We need you to let us into her studio.”

  25

  The Darkroom

  Jake unlocked 2B for us and we stepped inside.

  “Ew.” I turned my head and coughed into the crook of my arm as a nauseating cloud of chemicals engulfed us. I scrunched my nose. “Smells like burning hair.”

  Daisy sneezed, then shook her head, and Peter cupped a hand over his nose and mouth.

  Jake the Snake shrugged his beefy shoulders. “It’s the exterminator potion—he used it to lull the bugs into a trance, I guess?” He thumbed over his shoulder. “Look, I’m here ’cause I gotta start airing dese places out before the tenants move back in tomorrow.” His dark eyes drooped as he looked around Bim’s studio. “Minus one.”

  The landlord looked around, then grabbed a black chair and used it to prop open the metal door. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”

  Peter nodded, and Jake’s footsteps trailed away down the hall. I moved further into the large space. Bim had created several different areas within the large loft. A black brocade backdrop hung in one corner; another featured a bed with white gauzy drapes. She even had a faux fireplace with a tiger skin rug on the ground in front of it. I lifted a brow. Was that real? I hoped not.

  I trailed a fingertip down a long table to my right, passing fuzzy handcuffs, several pairs of shiny black stilettos, and various lacy pieces of lingerie. “Wow. Bim thought of everything.” I glanced over my shoulder and found Peter still near the door, arms crossed over his chest.

  I frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

  His throat bobbed, and I noticed the crimson blush that colored his throat and cheeks.

  I couldn’t hold back a huge grin. “This place a little too racy for you, Officer Flint?” I backtracked and grabbed the fuzzy handcuffs, twirling them around one finger. “I thought you used this stuff every day?”

  He blinked rapidly. “Not—not like those.”

  I chuckled and tossed them back onto the table. Oh, so innocent and sheltered. Wonder what that must be like?

  I shot Peter a flat look and waved him toward me. “Come on, nothing’s going to bite you.” I winked. “Unless you’re into that.”

  I led the way toward the door in the back, not waiting for his reaction—though I was pretty sure I’d just made him blush even deeper. Why did that give me such a zing of pleasure?

  “I bet this is the darkroom.” I pulled the door open and blinked as my eyes tried to adjust to the deep shadows inside. Peter stepped up behind me and reached overhead.

  Clink.

  Red light blanketed the closet, and Peter released the chain on the bulb, which swung over my head. I stepped inside with Peter and Daisy right behind me. Tubs of liquid covered a table
to the right, with a sink and a stack of photos to the left. Magically moving photos hung from lengths of string, like clothes on a line.

  I hiked my brows at a woman posing on the bed in black lingerie. She rolled over, whipped the bed frame, then clawed at the camera. I grinned back at Peter as I tapped the photo. “Bold moves.”

  His throat bobbed, eyes wide. He blinked rapidly as he took in all the purring, posing, winking ladies in the pictures, then his gaze dropped to his shiny black shoes.

  I bit back a smile. “Does this embarrass you, Officer Flint?” I planted a hand on my hip. “I’d have thought a beat on the streets of the Darkmoon District would have hardened you to such wanton women.”

  “It’s not that they’re—er—” He cleared his throat, eyes still down on his feet. “Wanton. It’s just—”

  I grinned and arched a brow. “Yes?”

  He glanced up at me. “It’s just that these women didn’t intend anyone but themselves, Bim and… and whoever the photos were meant for, to see them.” He gave a small shrug.

  I felt some of my glee at his embarrassment fade. Okay, that was actually kind of… respectful. I took a deep breath, then let it out. “Fair enough. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that we need to look through these.” I spread my arms wide at the dozens of women in these pictures. “These are our suspects.”

  Peter’s lips quirked to the side as Daisy sniffed around the perimeter of the closet. “Our suspects?”

  A little embarrassment stung my own chest and my cheeks warmed. “Look, you hired me to work the case.” I shrugged. “You don’t want my input, that’s fine.”

  I crossed my arms and half turned from him, pretending to study a photo of a woman writhing around on the tiger skin rug. Still, I could feel Peter’s eyes on me. I rolled my own and turned to him. “What?”

  He pressed his lips tight together in an amused smile. “I thought you didn’t want to be here.” He took a few steps closer and the dark, red-lit closet seemed to shrink around us.