Bigfoots Don't Do Mini Coopers (Kate Storm Book 1)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  Oh shit.

  I took a couple steps closer, leaned down and used my wand to unfurl the flag. Light from my office cut through the encroaching evening shadows and highlighted the words “Vote for Tom Crawford” in red lettering, center of the white stripe. Blue edged the top and bottom of the campaign advertisement.

  The patriotic coloring struck me as phony as the senator had been until I realized the words were not written in red. They were covered in the esteemed candidate’s blood. Crimson streaks ran in grisly streams from the words.

  I made it to my trashcan seconds before I unloaded the contents of my stomach.

  So much for my non-emotional response.

  And there went my healthy checkbook.

  I’m not proud of that response. It’s shallow. Uncaring. And does not speak well for me as a witch.

  It is what it is.

  “You okay, Doll?” His warm nose pressed into the skin near my elbow.

  I gagged some more. After several dry heaves, I was able to regain some control over my stomach and sat back on my heels. Al promptly climbed into my lap.

  “Ya need me to get rid of the body?” His bulging brown eyes widened in earnest concern as he offered his services. There may have been a hint of anticipation in them as well.

  I’m sure he relished the thought of indulging in the old days.

  Reality completely set aside. As usual.

  “Thanks, Al.” I scratched him between the ears. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”

  More like add to my nightmares. It didn’t matter, I still had to deal with reality.

  I stiffened as the scope of the situation hit me. Turning to look through the doorway, I cursed. “Shit. I’m going to have to get rid of another body.”

  I know a set up when I see one. At least I do now. If someone had gone through all the trouble of waiting until I’d left my office for the day before dumping the body of one of my clients, who knew what else they had done to try and frame me?

  And given Al’s estimated time of death, I’d more than likely been the last person to see the senator in person. Aside from the murderer, of course.

  “Like I said, Doll. I’m happy to get rid of it for ya.”

  I grinned. Despite the circumstances, I couldn’t help it. The senator had to be a good hundred and seventy pounds heavier than Big Al.

  And he was now, quite literally, dead weight.

  I swallowed a few times. Held my breath. When I was positive I wouldn’t need the services of my trashcan once more, I kissed his nose. “Thanks, Al. But I’m thinking we’re gonna need another set of hands with this one.”

  He curled his upper lip. “You gonna call Ass?”

  I ignored his rude nickname for my boyfriend. One thing at a time here.

  “No, I’m going to call Morgan. I think she’s free tonight. She’ll know what to do.” My UDBF is the best body disposer I know of.

  I was not terribly comfortable with placing the call. Fortunately, I knew she’d be thrilled. Death and vampires go hand in hand.

  I’ve had this sneaking suspicion for a while that Morgan might be slightly more bloodthirsty than the average vamp. However, since that’s come in handy more than once, I really can’t complain.

  I pulled my phone from my back pocket. I’de placed the phone in a bowl of rice last night to dry it out. Thankfully, it worked. Morgan is number one on my speed dial, Aunt Tabitha number two and Ash number three.

  Other than the Italian restaurant, I don’t have any other numbers in my address book.

  She answered mid-ring. “Hey Chicky.”

  “Hey Morgan. Are you free right now?”

  “Yeah, I am.” She laughed. “You know, the last time you asked me that question we had,” she paused. Probably considered how un-secure cell phones calls are, the latest government eavesdropping scandal, then continued, “a situation to handle.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” I said.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “This is not something I can joke about anymore.” I looked at the body sprawled on the concrete slab, feet from my door. “More like never ever again.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  9. Body Dumping 102.

  The really great thing about vamps is that when they say I’ll be right there, they mean it.

  Flying cuts down on all sorts of traffic.

  I was still pondering the length of time tonight’s endeavor might take, how long I truly needed to get ready for my date, creating a mental list of Things I Should Be Concerned About with my current situation and whether I should call Ash now or not, when Morgan arrived.

  Have I mentioned my tendency to ignore the nastier side of reality - even when it is less than ten feet away - and find something, anything, else to concentrate on?

  Duck and dodge. It’s a leftover survival mechanism from my Witch Academy days.

  “I know you’re cursed Kate, but this is taking it a bit too far, don’t you think?”

  UDBFs can get away with all sorts of irritating comments. Especially when you’re the one who called them to help dump the body in the first place.

  Also, as the sun was still out, I knew she’d put on UVBGone in order to come help me. UVBGone does just what it says. Morgan hates it.

  She was allowed an irritating comment. ONE irritating comment.

  As per her usual, Morgan looked like she held the starring role in an XXX-rated dominatrix film. A really good XXX-rated dominatrix film.

  I’d recently learned that a dominatrix role wouldn’t be a stretch for her. At all. Go Morgan.

  Red hair curled in a complicated twist with strategic strands escaping to linger around her face and over her shoulders in a deliberate come hither manner. A leather bustier in a complimentary shade of blood emphasized her bust and itty-bitty waist while leaving her shoulders bare to moon over. Her skin is a creamy ivory so smooth and silky it makes one’s fingers itch to touch it.

  Mine included and I’m totally hetero.

  Al’s chest expanded in my hands right before he sighed heavily. Apparently Chihuahuas were not immune either.

  A wide black leather belt encircled her waist. In its center a large red stone glittered.

  Her pants matched her top in material and color. Four inch spikes peeked out from under the cuffs and clicked over my floor.

  In mortifying contrast, I was nearly positive my dirty brown curls had decided upon their own sense of direction a good three hours ago. My green t-shirt had wrinkled to the point where most of the wrinkles looked to be permanent.

  I hadn’t bothered with a belt. None of them wanted to fit anymore and I’d worn my jeans for the last three days straight.

  Translated: they had stretched enough to be almost comfortable.

  My biker’s boots haven’t been clean since the day I bought them.

  It amazes me we’re best friends. Any day now I expect my envy to take over and sabotage our relationship. Thankfully it would have to battle my deep and totally unconditional love for her.

  Love trumps envy any minute of the day in my book.

  “I had nothing to do with the body, Morgan.”

  She arched one perfect scarlet brow.

  “She’s tellin’ the truth. The body was dumped before we got here.”

  “Oh.”

  Drat them. Did they have to sound so disappointed?

  Two dead bodies in one month certainly exceeded my personal quota.

  “Did she touch it?” Now they were speaking as if I wasn’t even around. Sitting in the middle of my own office.

  “She used her wand to move the flag. More so she wouldn’t have to touch the blood than worryin’ about trace,” Al said.

  Concern over the possibility that I might somehow leave behind traceable evidence versus my natural witchy horror over blood and a dead body should have been forefront in my brain?

  I considered my circumstances, the current dead body and the one from just a few weeks ago
.

  Yes. It should have been. Damn it.

  “Can we re-focus here?” I glared at them both. “I’d simply like to get rid of the body before any cops show up, arrest me and throw away the key.” I checked my watch. “Preferably with enough time left over so I can get ready for my date.”

  Morgan and Al both sighed, but followed me outside.

  “You have a date with Ash tonight?” Morgan walked in a complete circle around the body. Al growled.

  “Uh-huh.’ I smoothed his fur back down. “In an hour and a half.”

  Morgan toed the senator’s left foot. “No problem.”

  “Speaking of dates, how did yours go last night?”

  Morgan actually smoothed back her hair at my question. I’m sure it was a totally subconscious gesture on her part, but, Sweet Glinda, it shocked me.

  Pure excitement shimmered in her emerald eyes. We’ve been friends for nearly three years now and I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen such heady emotion in those eyes.

  Zilch.

  Mischief, boredom, the occasional snicker and once in a great - and too-long-between - while a full on belly laugh. But excitement? After nearly fifteen hundred years of living?

  “We started off in Paris, had a lovely bottle of aged A-negative. Then we took a walk along the cliffs in Aberdeen. The wind started to pick up a bit and I’d had my hair done before the date so we left and went to London to see The Taming of the Shrew.” She sighed. “The one we saw was actually better than the original.”

  Considering Morgan’s age, the original probably took place during Shakespearian times. More than likely directed by the great bard himself.

  She’d had her hair done? I re-visited her up-do. For a date? Al butted my chin closed with his head. It dropped back open.

  Morgan had a major crush going on.

  And where the hell was Aberdeen?

  “We got back just before you called.”

  Ah. Time zone differences. Got it.

  “Sounds like a great time.” Ash and I would probably hit the greasy spoon a few blocks from my apartment. Madge’s Place served the best fries in town.

  I guess if I stretched my imagination, I might be able to consider our upcoming date somewhat cosmopolitan since we’d each order our own french fries.

  Aberdeen? Was that a town, county or different realm entirely?

  “It was wonderful.” Morgan sighed. Yet again.

  I frowned. “So, when do I get to meet him?”

  I’ve only seen Drake once, a few weeks back at Got Fangs?. He’d appeared at our table and asked Morgan to dance. I’ve not had a chance to shake hands and cast a quick truth spell with him yet.

  Morgan bent to examine the election flag. She didn’t duck quickly enough. I saw the shadows flow over her face.

  What was that all about?

  I’m her best friend. Actually, I think we are the only friends we each have, but that doesn’t diminish our love in any manner.

  “Soon, I’m sure.”

  I nearly went into shock.

  I didn’t need to cast a spell. It was all over Morgan’s body. She’d just lied. To me.

  “Doll?” I immediately loosened my grip on him. Too bad I couldn’t get rid of the one around my heart.

  “Did you know this guy?” Morgan asked as she unfurled the flag.

  Duck and Dodge. I could do it. I’d been doing it for the majority of my life.

  “Yeah.” I cleared my throat. My next words came out without sounding as if I had been recently strangled. “I met him today. He’s . . . He was a client of mine.”

  Morgan nodded. Kept her attention focused on the dead body. It helped. I couldn’t look her in the eye at the moment. For the first time I didn’t want to know what she was thinking.

  “He’s human.” She scowled at the flag. “Is he Tom Crawford?”

  “The one and the same.”

  I firmed my lips. Why would she lie to me? It didn’t make sense at all. I know Morgan. Three years and countless escapades have woven our lives together. I trust her.

  But she is a vamp. It’s hard to know what they are thinking and feeling. The assassin from our last dead body issue had hinted about Morgan’s background being special or different somehow.

  I hadn’t really cared. I still don’t. She’s always accepted me as I am. I could no less.

  If something was bothering Morgan enough for her to lie to me about it then I needed to seek that thing out. And kick it way the heck back to where it came from.

  I would not settle for anything else. She’s the only friend I have ever had.

  The band around my chest eased. I could breath again.

  Morgan traced one long, pale digit over the T. Her fangs flashed a second before she popped the bloody tip into her mouth.

  “Morgan, we don’t have time for snacking.”

  She muttered words too low for me to hear, shot a glance at me out of the corner of her eye, and whatever was on my face must have reassured her. The muscles in her shoulders relaxed.

  We’d get through this. Whatever it was. We’d get through it.

  “I just wanted to see if politicians taste any different.”

  Morgan and I have thrown our fair share of rotten tomatoes at enough political rallies - both democratic and republican - for me to know she shares the same view I do of politicians.

  Scum sucking dirt bags. Out to lie, cheat and claw their way to the top. They rivaled the worst of the HC. And those sad creatures couldn’t always help their nasty and corrupt ways.

  “Damn. We can’t just bury him somewhere.” Morgan scowled down at the senator.

  “We can’t? Why not?” It had worked rather well the last time.

  It would have worked out a lot better if the assassin hadn’t watched us bury the body he had been sworn to protect. And as he had been the one to actually commit the murder in the first place, forcing us to kill him in order to conceal the first body, leave no witnesses and allow us to continue living, I thought it eventually worked out extremely well. In the end. With us still amongst the living.

  “He’s a senator, Kate. People will notice him missing by the time the elections roll around if not before.”

  I simply have not been around enough murder scenes to really consider all the potential downfalls involved in dumping bodies.

  I see a dead body and my mind immediately wants to shut out the sight and situation. I’d say I would work on it, but frankly, I’d much rather the dead bodies quit showing up on my doorstep.

  “Right. A senator.” I eyed the short wooden flagstaff impaling either side of his neck. “You would think that would be foremost in my mind at the moment.”

  Morgan laughed. “No. I know you better than that, Kate.”

  A small stream of warmth invaded my body, flowed through my veins, wound its way over my muscles and bones and finally settled into the pit of my stomach.

  Yeah. We’d get through this.

  10. The Plan.

  “I’ll go grab my supplies.”

  “You brought supplies? What kind of supplies?”

  There are supplies for moving bodies? Do they come in kits? Maybe I should get one too.

  Morgan didn’t answer. She had already disappeared. Vamps are really fast.

  We hadn’t needed any supplies the last time. Morgan had picked up the body and flown it to the woods. I’d followed on my broom. A shirt trek across a field, one hastily dug grave and sunlight had incinerated the rest of the evidence.

  I didn’t know whether to be horrified or impressed that Morgan had the forethought to bring whatever items might be necessary on the off chance this body was different than the last one.

  “Ya can’t just stuff the body into a garbage bag and cart him out to the dumpster, Doll.” Al tsked me. “Number one, he won’t fit into one bag and chopping him up would take too much time and the mess is just not worth the trouble. Number two, the smell will alert someone before they pick up the trash next Friday. We�
�re gonna have to dump him somewhere far away from here and we’ll need to clean up the blood so we don’t leave any evidence.”

  I’d grabbed my trashcan the moment he’d said chop. My stomach tossed about, but I’d already emptied its contents earlier so it settled down in a fairly short time.

  “I’m going to go wash this out. I’ll be back in a minute, Al.”

  I dumped my breakfast and lunch into the toilet bowl. Luckily, I’d taken out my trash the day before and hadn’t needed to use the fuchsia cylinder since. I didn’t have to worry about crumbled papers clogging things up as I flushed. They pick up the trash in this neighborhood every Friday afternoon.

  Under the sink I found my disinfectant and paper towels and went to work. The menial job helped.

  It disturbed me - feel free to insert a screaming case of the heebie-jeebies here - that my Chihuahua found the task of dismemberment to be messy and just not worth it.

  How many times had he done it? Scratch that. I did not want to know. Not a single detail.

  I returned the trashcan to its place next to my desk and went outside to join the dead body relocation party going on.

  Morgan had laid a blue plastic tarp on the ground, outside of the pool of blood. She’d put on plastic gloves and was in the process of wrapping the senator up. The flag had been snapped off and stuck in between two of the buttons on his shirt.

  I saw her point, the tip of the flag could easily penetrate the plastic, create a hole and allow for blood, hair or other traceable bits of evidence to escape.

  On the other hand it seemed a touch blasphemous. Especially for a politician. Then again, he’d already been stabbed through the neck with it. And I’m not fond of politics.

  I checked “how to move the body” off my mental list of Things To Be Concerned About.

  Morgan finished her wrap job then used leopard print duck tape to seal the seams. When she was finished it had the odd look of a large, lumpy, horrible birthday present.

  I hadn’t known duck tape came in leopard print.

  All that remained was the dark, dark red stain. I scowled. Each business that backed this alley had a concrete pad the length and width of a pick up truck outside their back door.