Midnight Reign

by Chris Marie Green

  “I saw one coming back into her frame today,” she said, referring to the Friend in the hall, “like she was being colored onto the canvas.”

  “That’s when they return home. You didn’t think they just floated around after chasing down lawyers or monitoring Lee in his cell, did you? They need rest, too.”

  Good time for another question. “And how’s that going? Lee, I mean.”

  “He’s keeping to himself in jail-land. That means no word about any of his vamp connections. He and his lawyers don’t even talk about anything to do with an Underground.”

  Not the best of news, but…yee-haw, Dawn could be on her way to an answer about this Kalin. She got even braver.

  “There was someone in that fire field picture that’s usually empty, you know the one in The Voice’s office? Has that Friend been away for a while?”

  Breisi’s throat worked around a swallow as she merely stared at Dawn.

  “Is the subject in that picture Kalin?” Dawn added.

  “I can’t answer anything else.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they help us, and that’s not for us to question. Remember how they defended us at Robby’s house?”

  Dawn nodded, then spoke up just in case the Friends were listening in. “And I’m totally thankful, too.”

  “Then no more foolishness. We have a lot of other matters to focus on.”

  “I can’t even wonder why the spirits don’t know who this murderer is? Don’t they have, like, their own contacts in the ghost world?”

  Breisi started looking exasperated. “Many spirits travel in their own realms. It’s not as if they have networking parties.”

  “I’m just saying. It’d be useful.”

  Under her breath, Breisi muttered something that Dawn suspected was the Spanish equivalent of “bleeping idiot.” “I didn’t come here to have the great debate with you.”

  Still, Dawn had to admit she’d gotten a couple of tidbits out of the stone maiden. “What’s up then?”

  Breisi narrowed her eyes. “I’m free now to give you the rundown on the case?”

  Knowing she wouldn’t get anywhere else for the time being, Dawn nodded.

  Her coworker’s eyes gleamed because she loved this part. She was like a spelling bee champion who got to stand up during a dinner with drunk adult relatives and show off the lists of words she’d learned that day at school. “First, I tracked down one or two of Lee’s old roomies.”

  “How did you manage that when the Tomlinson family wouldn’t give us names?”

  She shrugged modestly. “I did the usual. A buddy with DMV connections got Lee’s old address for me. I used that to find his roomies’ names and current whereabouts.”

  Man, Breisi was link central. “Nice.”

  “Well, I didn’t find enough to fill a jelly jar. And I haven’t discovered anything that links Jessica Reese to Lee. But then I talked to the roomie Mrs. Tomlinson mentioned, the one who told her about ‘the lov-ah.’” Breisi waved her hand while saying the affected word, just as Coral Tomlinson had done. “Her name is Torrey Sajen-Morgan, a mouthful, and she had kept in contact with Lee until about a month ago, just before he committed the murder and took off. I told her I was a friend of Lee’s and I was planning to stage a rally to support his innocence.”

  “And she was all for that.”

  “You bet. She gave me names of people here in L.A. who would attend.”

  Dawn stood, suspecting what Breisi had found. “Including the name of Lov-ah?” In her excitement she ignored the links her Internet search had brought up for Lane Tomlinson. She’d get to them later.

  Breisi made a subtle tah-dah motion. “Sasha Slutskaya. What a name, huh? I’ve got a work address.”

  “Damn, you’re good.”

  “I try.”

  As Dawn made for the door and passed Breisi in her haste to get on with this, the other woman held up a fist.

  Oh, Dawn thought. Another bump. Right. Okay.

  They lightly smacked knuckles, both of them holding back sort-of smiles as they exited. After weaponing and garlicking up, they jogged down the stairs, just reaching the door when Kiko came up behind them.

  “Wait!” He was tugging on his light jacket over a dark top. “Boss said I should go.”

  “But the sun’s setting,” Dawn said while scanning him. He seemed lucid enough and even kind of perky. Good signs, but she didn’t trust her prognosis, seeing as she wasn’t a professional.

  Kiko shrugged off her amateur opinion. “I’m going straight into Sasha’s place with you two, and I promised I wouldn’t pull anything heroic. Besides, I’ll have the usual cover.”

  Friends, Dawn thought. Which ones would be with them, hanging back, watching, waiting, just in case?

  Then he turned to Breisi, who didn’t look any more convinced than Dawn was.

  “Get off it, Breez. The boss just took some convincing is all. He knows I can handle myself. I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  Proving it, he kicked out with a tiny leg. The only sign of back agitation was his tight, smug smile.

  “You slept off the last pill?” Breisi asked.

  “Of course.” Kiko widened his eyes so his coworkers could peer into them. “See?”

  Breisi looked into his gaze, and when Dawn had her turn, she supposed he was focusing well enough.

  “We don’t want you to be in any discomfort, Kik,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  At his casualness, Breisi gave him one last, long glance, then powered out the door. The outside UV lights blared on, swallowing her up.

  Dawn started to follow, but Kiko grabbed her jacket, stopping her.

  “About earlier,” he said, sheepish.

  Her mind rewound. Blur-de-blur-de-whir. Past what she’d done with The Voice, past Kiko telling her off on the way home, past their meeting with the Tomlinsons. Then she fast-forwarded a bit, landing on Kiko saying, “I guess my painkillers are safer than yours any day. So back off, okay?”

  “What about it?” she asked, not wanting to go there with him, either.

  “I…I wasn’t in the best of moods. Sorry about getting on your case.”

  “We just…” She cleared her throat. “I guess we just worry about each other. That’s all. Now let’s—”

  “Because you’ve gotten a lot better about sleeping around lately.” Kiko had clearly been rehearsing this speech and he was hell-bent on delivering it. “When I first met you, I couldn’t help reading you because you were putting off such strong, needy vibes.”

  Awk. Ward. “But you stopped reading me after that because I’m not the massive ho you fear anymore, so no worries. ’Kay?” Rolling her eyes, she started toward the door.

  “No, wait. You’re right.” He got red in the face. “I can tell that you’re doing real good…. I mean, you’re trying real hard to…”

  A flash of The Voice inside of her, filling her, made Dawn flush with guilt.

  Kiko sighed. “What I’m saying is that I admire how you’ve controlled yourself. And I can do the exact same thing.” He gave her an admiring glance, then looked down as he shuffled his oversized shoes.

  Oh. But, ah, hell, she could’ve told him that the only reason she wasn’t going around slammin’ half the town was because she was limited on time. A lot had changed about her, but she doubted she’d ever be able to give up sex. She’d just changed her own prescriptions, that’s all.

  Wanting this conversation to be over, she fidgeted. “Thanks” was all she could say without incriminating herself.

  “So we’re cool?” he asked.

  “We’re cool.”

  She offered him a white-flag grin, and he broke into a full-fledged smile, clearly Happy Kiko resurrected.

  He headed out the door, leaving a blare of UV lighting in his wake. The chill of it swept into the foyer, bathing the portrait of Fire Woman over the mantel.

  She peered straight through Dawn, as if to say, “If only he knew th
e truth, because I do.”

  Impulsively, Dawn flew the bird at her, then left the house, protected by the lights until she reached the SUV.

  As they drove into the twilight, Dawn kicked it in the backseat. A shade-wearing Kiko had grabbed the front, which meant he was back to normal. Thank God.

  While driving, Breisi said they were heading toward Santa Monica Boulevard, like yesterday, but tonight they’d be stopping in West Hollywood to intercept Sasha Slutskaya at work.

  “Did you say we’re going to the eight-thousand block of the boulevard?” Dawn asked.

  “Yes.”

  Kiko glanced at Dawn in the backseat, and both of them seemed to come to an understanding at the same time.

  “Boystown,” they both said.

  “Hot dog,” Kiko added. “Mr. Sasha?”

  When they finally reached the address, their suspicions were confirmed.

  After parking in the street, which wasn’t too challenging during an early weeknight, they stood in front of a bar called Red Five. It was innocent enough on the outside, wedged between a sampling of other gay Boystown bars, but on the inside…

  Na-ht so innocent.

  Dawn had never seen Kiko shut up so completely as he did when they strolled into the blue-lit building. Happy Hour was advertised on every neon-markered black sign, which explained the unexpected crowd. Oversized golden cages held boy babes in go-go gear. Gargantuan screens played scenes from a cool-attitude movie; Dawn thought it might be The Usual Suspects. Large metal buckets attached to the ceiling near the walls sluiced water over cavorting patrons every few minutes, much to their yelps of delight. It seemed like every man was holding a martini, creating a rainbow of alcohol-drenched streamers. Tight shirts, no shirts—it didn’t matter as they all danced with their arms around each other.

  Onstage, a performer belted out a lip-synching extravaganza. A Celine Dion twin. Holy crap.

  She was standing in the spotlight with a microphone, dressed in a colorful mess of scarves, singing one of many silly tunes Dawn hadn’t ever learned the name of. The audience yelled along during the “river deep, mountain high!” chorus, reminding Dawn of why she’d never bothered.

  Unruffled, Breisi made her way to a bartender as Kiko laughed and took off his shades, then started snapping his fingers to the music.

  Breisi was back in a flash. “Sasha’s in the dressing room!” she said, raising her voice over the music. “Rolf said to go right back!”

  Rolf. As they weaved through the water-and sweat-misted crowd, Dawn glanced at the beefy, shirtless bartender dancing his way toward a new customer. They were lax on security here, which probably meant this bar had nothing to do with vamps.

  On their way, Dawn rubbed against some decent chests, so she could’ve called it a good night right there. But her better instincts were still on alert for Underground clues because that’s what was going to lead to Frank.

  In the dressing room, half-garbed drag queens primped in mirrors surrounded by big, white bulbs. The air was heavy with Aqua Net and the oily scent of makeup.

  Kiko asked a Diana Ross look-alike where Sasha was, and the performer batted her lengthy false eyelashes and gave the psychic a sassy smile.

  “There, sugar.” She pointed a few mirrors down. “Wow, aren’t you a darling thing? A sample-sized man, just like shampoo at a hotel.”

  Kiko laughed good-naturedly. Then they all made their way over to Sasha’s station, where a robed performer was sitting in a chair, slipping off a long, dark wig.

  It seemed such a personal act that Dawn actually averted her gaze. In that instant, the delayed images of what Sasha kept taped to the mirror infiltrated her: photos of recent ice skaters like Michelle Kwan, Sarah Hughes, and then his two obvious namesakes—Sasha Cohen and Irina Slutskaya. The combination of the last two monikers made for a perfect drag queen.

  She heard Breisi greeting the performer. Then, the next thing Dawn knew, she was peeking up again, finding that Sasha had already stuck a baseball cap over his head and was making quick work out of removing his heavy makeup with fingers full of cold cream.

  “Too bad,” he said in a deep voice. “You missed my Cher act.”

  Now, Dawn had awesome gaydar; a girl needed it badly in Hollywood. The thing was, Sasha wasn’t setting it off.

  Breisi took position next to the vanity, posture relaxed. “As much as we would have loved to see it, Sasha, we’re here to discover if you can help us.”

  A finely tuned machine, the Limpet questioning method kicked into gear. Kiko stood on the other side of Sasha, getting ready to execute his touch-reading. Dawn hung back while Breisi consumed the subject’s attention this time around.

  “Help with what?” Sasha raised his darkly penciled brows and paused while taking off his lipstick.

  “Lee Tomlinson.” Kiko said it with command, seeing as he played “bad cop” to Breisi’s “good cop.”

  Dawn, naturally, was the “ugly cop,” so she saved her energy in case it was needed.

  The performer ran a gaze down Kiko’s body, then back up. It was a curious assessment, the recognition one social outsider might have for another.

  He turned back to the mirror and finished cosmetic-removal duties. Impressive muscles lurked under his robe, and now that Dawn could see him better, she realized that his features were masculine and feminine at the same time. An ambiguously pretty boy who could end up starring in spy movies if he wanted to.

  “Lee is as good as dead to me,” Sasha said.

  “What do you mean, he is as ‘good as dead’?” Breisi asked.

  “I mean he murdered a woman, they’ve got enough evidence to prove that. We were close for a while, but I don’t cozy up to killers so, basically, I haven’t talked to him since we broke up. That was before Klara Monaghan’s last days.”

  Hearing him say Klara’s name when everyone else in town seemed to have forgotten it, Dawn caught his gaze in the mirror. He grinned slightly, as if giving himself credit.

  He knew the name, but the death didn’t move him. Either this guy had no feelings or he knew how to hide them well.

  Welcome to my club, Dawn thought.

  “We heard you and Lee were an item,” Kiko said bluntly.

  Sasha turned an amused gaze on the psychic. “Yes, we were. Does it matter?”

  “We’re attempting to get to know him through his close relationships.” Breisi fished out her PI license and flashed it. “And in just five minutes, you’ve been more forthcoming with us than his family and anyone else within a one-hundred-mile radius put together.”

  “Why’re you investigating him?”

  “Because there’s been a similar murder,” Breisi said. “We’re looking into any links between the two. Unfortunately, that’s all we can tell you due to client privacy restraints.”

  “So you’re doing some good.” Sasha seemed fine with that explanation as he tossed away a foundation-smeared tissue.

  “We’re trying,” Kiko said. “But the leads are slow.”

  “Really. Then we’ll see if I can’t help. What do you want to know? I’m an open book. A regular exhibitionist, like anyone else around here.”

  As if to prove his point, he rose, sliding off his robe in the same fluid movement. Dawn caught a glimpse of smooth skin and hard body before she inexplicably looked away again. She came to lock gazes with Kiko, who’d angled his glance away, too, wide-eyed. She wasn’t terribly surprised, him basically being a puritan and all. But her? Had this afternoon’s bout with The Voice made her think twice about…well, being too hard-bitten about sex?

  When Breisi said something else, it sounded as if she was still facing their interviewee. What do you know?

  “How long were you with Lee, Sasha?”

  Dawn heard him moving around, probably putting on clothes. “A few months. Then we broke up, he tried to flee, and the authorities hauled him back for murder.”

  “You had no contact with him during all this?”

  “None. Before I k
new about what he’d done with Klara Monaghan, I just assumed he’d taken up with another fling. Lee wasn’t a relationship kind of man, not with males or females.”

  “He was bi?”

  Sasha stopped moving, and Dawn looked up to find him fully clothed in jeans and an Eddie Bauer–like shirt.

  “Lee didn’t label himself,” he said. “I don’t do much of that, either. This queen stuff? I have a lot of fun doing it, but it doesn’t make me something I’m not. Lee and I felt the same way—we are what we are. That’s what attracted us.”

  “What did his mom think?” Dawn asked.

  When Sasha turned his gaze on her, she felt a rogue shiver travel over her arms. Maybe what unsettled her was in his eyes, the intensity of the light green or gray or…some combination of color.

  “I don’t know about his mom,” Sasha said, “but the sister I talked to didn’t like the idea of Lee being with another man.”

  Dawn would put money on the notion that the sister—Marg or Cassie?—had told Mama Tomlinson about a lov-ah but hadn’t mentioned he was male. Could it be that revealing this tidbit would’ve put the Lee-adoring Coral over the edge and the siblings were avoiding that?

  “I’m starting to think there was a lot Lee’s family didn’t know about him,” Dawn said, searching Sasha’s face for any sign of her double meaning.

  Kiko jumped on the Underground reference, having turned back around to the conversation. He reached out to Sasha, touching his bare arm as if to get his attention. “Before you and Lee broke up, did you notice anything different about him? Was he secretive? Did he go places and refuse to talk about where he’d been or did you catch him in any lies?”

  Underground bait.

  “Yes, I did notice some things.” Sasha sent a deliberate glance to Kiko’s lingering hand, then grinned at the smaller man. “He’d get moody when I’d ask him what he did the night before. And we had arguments about marks on his body. Bites that I hadn’t given him.”

  At Sasha’s cheeky expression, Kiko removed his hand, then loosely backed away, hands up, as if silently saying, Hey, that wasn’t me making a pass. Not gay. Sooooo not gay. But I respect you for your choices, dude.

  Dawn could’ve been wildly entertained by the Sasha/Kiko show, but she was trying to see if her coworker had gotten a reading. Also, she was wondering about that bite part.