A Model Murder

by Claire Kane

  She wanted to puke.

  “Welcome to our little funhouse,” Jack called from above. Lacey looked up to see him smirking down at her at the head of a ladder built into the wall beneath the trapdoor. “What do you think?”

  “Victor,” she breathed, wishing desperately he were here.

  “Oh, about that,” he said. “Geo told me about your old boyfriend. “Kind of a pansy, from the sound of it. He couldn’t believe how naïve and stupid the guy was. A little smut, a little voodoo, and he had your friend all locked up, almost without even trying. Funny thing is, we never knew Heaven had gotten that close to our business before then. I guess they’re either getting sneakier, upstairs, or lazier.”

  Lacey stared up at him. The air around him seemed to shimmer darkly, and she blanched. “What are you?”

  “What are we?” he asked, then laughed. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I guess your wannabe guardian angel didn’t tell you much about how things on this side work. Then again, from what Geo said, he was pretty clueless himself.”

  Victor, she pled in her mind. Where are you?

  “He won’t be able to hear you,” Jack said, picking at his nails as he casually crouched over the hole. “Geo was useful, while he lasted. If nothing else, he knew his magiks, and was able to keep certain… holy eyes… from peering too close.” Jack’s mocking smile turned to a scowl. “But mortals get sloppy sometimes. Geo got comfortable, and getting comfortable, as a mortal, means getting yourself killed. The fact that you found him out with such a paltry effort on your part tells me it’s time for me to find a new assistant. And new girls, since maybe you alerted the cops without me knowing it. But Jessica and Brittany were easy enough to replace after they ran from me, and the rest of the girls are all just waiting in their pretty cages like fat cows for the slaughter, now. Oh, and I may need to get… to get a new Lacey Ling. And that, my darling, is the biggest shame of all. You were going to save us from this.”

  “What are you?” Lacey repeated, trying to sound insistent but feeling a cloying terror tightening her chest.

  Jack sighed. “You really want me to do the whole expository thing? Come on, Lacey. I’ve seen more movies than that. In fact,” and he leveled a pistol at her. “I’ve already talked too much.”

  Lacey tried to jerk out of the way as he squeezed the trigger, and felt pain erupt in her right flank. She found she couldn’t breathe for the agony, and curled up into a ball. Above the renewed shrill ringing in her ears, she thought she heard Jack curse.

  Fighting against blacking out, she inchwormed herself away from the trapdoor. Somewhere in her mind, she knew his second shot wouldn’t miss. She knew she shouldn’t fear death, but after what had happened to Victor, she knew that dying here would be a one-way ticket to a very warm place.

  Overhead, she heard a strange rumble, and nebulous, muted crashes and shouts. When she was able to force her eyes open, she noticed the trapdoor was no longer covered by her captor. Desperate, bleeding, and dizzy with pain, she only knew that she had to get out. Dragging herself across the carpet, she made her painful way back toward the ladder. When she reached it, she gazed up in dismay. Her right leg was ballooning by the moment, and she knew it wouldn’t support weight.

  She didn’t even want to think about the bullet wound.

  Lacey, get up. Quick!

  “Victor,” she whispered, wincing at the way breathing felt like being knifed in the ribs.

  Quick. Do whatever you can. Here—this might help.

  Miraculously, the pain dulled to a merely intense throb, and her vision cleared as a surprising jolt of adrenaline—and, she was sure, something else—surged through her. She grasped the lower rungs of the ladder and slowly hauled herself to her feet, taking care not to put any weight on her right leg. The adrenal rush continued, and, rung by rung, she was able to grit her teeth and perform the impossible. She emerged from the trap door in surprising time, but nearly fell back down the hole at what she saw.

  Teddy lay on the floor in the foyer, looking for all the world like a junkyard dog who had gotten into a fight with razor wire. Foam spilled from his mouth, and a wild mix of fear and fury was on his face. Jack towered above him; he wasn’t panting. He raised his gun toward the vagrant. From across the room, Teddy caught Lacey’s eyes. “Rich Brat,” he called, almost happily. Jack stiffened, and spun. His face contorted in rage at the sight of Lacey, and he swung the gun in line with her face, only to miss his shot as Teddy crashed into the back of Jack’s legs, toppling him.

  “Get off me,” Jack roared, seizing Teddy by the collar and hurling him halfway across the room. The vagrant rebounded off the wall with a thud, and Lacey gasped to see the man-size dent in the drywall. In that instant, she knew that Jack Beals, CEO of Trend, was literally possessed. Suddenly, so many things made sense. Frantic, and feeling her miraculous second wind fading fast, she scrabbled out of the closet.

  He snarled at her, and rather than simply firing, charged her.

  Jack froze abruptly, then snarled. He jerked violently, and, like Teddy, began to foam at the mouth.

  Lacey, get out. Victor’s voice was unnaturally calm but unmistakably urgent.

  Lacey perked up at the voice in her mind. Victor? You are still here! Oh thank—

  Please, Lacey, no talkie. Just walkie. Front door is even open for you. You’re welcome.

  She made to argue but thought better of it. Raising herself painfully to her knees, she fumbled toward the front door. She knew she’d never be able to outrun Jack, and she had no way of getting home, but she trusted Victor—now more than ever—and did what she could.

  As she made her slow trek across the living room, Jack continued to thrash and shriek as if grappling with some unseen opponent. Lacey felt—she had no idea what she felt, but she knew something monumental was going on in Jack’s immediate vicinity.

  Teddy had gained his feet again, and, though his face was already purpling, he howled and bull-rushed Jack from behind, dropping him a second time. The two men rolled on the floor, but Teddy was surprisingly agile and held his upper ground as he drilled punch after punch into Jack with one hand while his other hand fought for the gun, finally wrestling it free. He leapt clear of Jack and drew a bead on the man, his hand hovering tight on the trigger.

  Jack loosed a shriek unlike Lacey had ever heard, and the sound—a swirl of unspeakable tormented sorrow—seemed to pierce her very soul. He frothed and writhed on the floor, all the while under Teddy’s skeptical eye and ready weapon.

  “Shoot him, Teddy!” Lacey cried. She found she hated Jack. Thoughts of inflicting on him the kind of wounds he’d caused who knew how many women roared in her mind. He deserved an agonizing death and an even more painful eternity. “What are you waiting for?”

  Teddy’s face was grim, but he shook his head and only continued to watch. “Trust me on this, kid. We need to stay calm.”

  “Stay calm?” Shocked and furious, she began clawing her way toward him. If this homeless bum wouldn’t dispense justice, she would. “Give me the gun,” she growled, noticing that her voice had suddenly turned deep and gravely. Her vision went red and dark, warm feelings caressed her mind. Yes, she would be justice today. For Jessica, for Shayla, for Brittany.

  For herself.

  “You’ve already been shot once tonight, Rich Brat,” Teddy said, still calm despite the fact that he was panting and covered in a clear sheen of sweat.

  “SCREW CALM!” Hatred welled inside her, and she stood with a sudden strength she’d never known, as if all at once she was being filled with a kind of power she felt she’d always deserved but had been denied all her life. She would kill Teddy if he stood in her way of ending Jack. The man’s eyes grew with terrified surprise as she reared up, ready to strike, and only vaguely aware that Jack already lay motionless on the floor.

  “Lacey,” a voice said, “I love you.”

  Suddenly, between her and her prey, the spirit of Victor St. John stood, eyeing her with a quiet resolve. He
r first instinct was to tear him to shreds, but the way love—real love—sparkled in his angelic eyes made her pause. The sensations of acceptance, devotion, and honesty were so real that tears sprang, unbidden, from her eyes. Here was Victor. Faithful, loyal Victor who, despite having walked away from her in his darkest hour, had returned to her in hers. How could she ever hate him? Part of her mind fought to push forward through this pathetic angel and pulp the vagrant who had kept her from vengeance, but…

  “Victor?” she said. Her voice sounded almost normal again.

  “Come out of her,” Victor replied, staring straight into Lacey’s eyes. “You’ve already been cast out tonight. By the authority vested in me, I command you to depart.”

  Lacey flinched as if struck, and felt as though part of her were being torn away. Then it was over, and she collapsed in a heap. The last thing she saw before drifting into a peaceful, blissful sleep was Victor kneeling over her with a smile on his face.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Lacey awoke in the hospital, sometime later, and groaned. The last time she’d been here, she’d been poisoned. She wasn’t sure she felt any better now, especially when she tried to sit up only to feel a sharp pain through her right leg. She hissed through her teeth, then looked down at herself. Her right leg was in a cast, and, through her thin hospital gown, she could feel a small blanket of bandages all over her ribs and lower chest. She wondered where the bullet had actually struck her, but was too tired to really ask. Still, with her waking came hunger, and she didn’t hesitate to summon a nurse, who graciously took her order and gave her a thorough once-over, now that she was awake.

  As the woman left, a thought struck Lacey, and she gasped. “Miss? What’s the date?”

  The woman turned and smiled. “It’s the twenty-first. Your wounds aren’t as bad as we expected, and while you’ll be wearing that cast until early February, I heard the doctor say she may be willing to release you in another day or two.” She smiled warmly. “So you should be home for Christmas Eve, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Lacey smiled; she could think of no better gift than that of Christmas with Nainai.

  *

  The sun was about to set outside Lacey’s apartment. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and she’d make certain things were festive, no matter how her budget apartment and events of the past several days had conspired to stop her. Glancing around, she smiled at the meager decorations from the dollar store—the green-foil wreaths, crinkly red bows, and a cheap angel statue sitting on her kitchen table. A renewed sense of appreciation bubbled within as she happily worked on frying chicken over her electric stove while sitting on a tall stool to rest her leg. The chicken sizzled and crackled in the deep skillet, bringing back memories from her childhood.

  Fried chicken, not honeyed ham or turkey, was the tradition—and not from the redneck side of the family. She always thought it was funny how East Asians hit up the KFCs to celebrate the happiest time of the year. With her grandmother sitting in the living room, watching the American tradition of It’s a Wonderful Life, it made the fried chicken feel all the more special. She took in a deep breath and sighed. She’d gone through so much recently, she was grateful to start recovering from the emotional whiplash of it all.

  “I wish I could have been loaned my body, if just for tonight,” Victor said, poofing beside her.

  Lacey eyed him, certain she knew what he was implying. He surely wanted to celebrate with a little bodily romance of hand holding and hugging during the season of love.

  He continued, though, surprising her. “You don’t have a Christmas tree, and that’s a shame… I would have carried and set one up for you, if I could.”

  Oh, so that’s what he meant.

  Knowing what she was thinking, he said with a smile. “I mean, snuggling by a fire with you would’ve been amazing, too. Only, you don’t have a fireplace...”

  She laughed, carefully forking out golden-brown, sizzling pieces of chicken, and laying them on a plate. “I’m happy, Victor, with what I’ve got.” She gestured with her fork. “I have Nainai and you with me, some good food and a warm shelter. What more can a girl ask for?”

  “Wait a minute—” Victor paused, glancing around his shoulders, as if in search. “Is this the Lacey Ling I know? The one who buys all the latest Apple products? Spends more on her shoes than I did on my old car? Who scoffed at her Wal-Mart engagement ring?”

  Lacey laughed again. “Okay, Mister—I’ll ignore the mention of the ring. But I want you to know that I have learned something through this whole investigation.” Her deep brown eyes went serious, threatening to tear up. “Girls trapped in situations like Shayla, and Brittany and Jessica were trapped in—they are the ones who really have it bad. Even Teddy. I’m not ashamed to admit that through getting to know him, I learned a thing or two more about myself. Maybe I have been a rich brat…”

  Victor’s brows raised in further surprise.

  “So,” she went on, “who cares if I’m neighbors to the cast of Cops? Who cares if this chicken was from the frozen section of Walmart, and who cares if I couldn’t afford Nainai a gift?” But with that last declaration panging her heart, tears spilled from both her eyes.

  Victor wished he could hug her. The best he could offer was a sympathetic stare with his sparkly blue eyes, and said, “She loves you. She’ll understand.”

  Lacey sat a moment in thought, wiped her eyes with a sleeve, and turned off the stove. She carried the plate of chicken to the table, and glanced at her grandmother still sitting happily in her wheelchair, whose gaze was set on the TV.

  The very humble-looking angel with dark hair, stunning eyes, and his trademark t-shirt and blue jeans, followed Lacey. The two of them sat together, staring out the kitchen window for a long while.

  Victor broke the silence first, as fresh snowflakes fell from a placid, grey sky. “How did so much go wrong, Lacey?” He studied her thoughtfully, and she felt a sense of... maturity… in him that she’d never felt before.

  She placed her hands on his knees, holding them where they’d be had she actually been able to touch them, and continued looking at him, and he, in turn, placed his hands on hers. “But in the end, it went right. Or, well, right enough.” She bit her lip. She had so many questions for Victor, but she couldn’t get past the way she’d wanted to attack him, that night at Geo’s house.

  “I can still read your thoughts,” he said gently. “And yes, I’ve been given answers to your questions. You don’t even need to ask.”

  Lacey trembled, wondering whether she wanted to know, but she closed her eyes and inhaled slowly, then let her breath go, before nodding.

  “Jack Beals was, as you probably guessed, possessed by a devil. A minor one, apparently, but a devil nonetheless. Apparently, those are stronger and more cunning than demons like... the ones I had to face right after I died.”

  Lacey opened her eyes and nodded, while Victor looked pensively toward the sky. When he turned back to her, he went on, “Jack’s… guest… had learned how to mask himself from most angels. Even Rao had a hard time seeing him. I guess we all knew something was going on—that’s part of why she sent me in the first place—but Heaven’s ‘intelligence agency,’ since I can’t think of a better term, sometimes takes a little time before it sees everything. Sometimes, we have to go straight to The Top for answers.”

  Lacey thought on this, and nodded for him to go on.

  “Jack, long before you knew him, was actually homeless—just like Teddy. In fact, that’s part of why Heaven bargained with Teddy in the first place.”

  Lacey’s nose wrinkled. “What do you mean ‘bargained with Teddy’?”

  Victor smiled easily. “See, there are certain things angels just aren’t allowed—or are unable—to do. Like fight Jack physically. So while Teddy’s not the kind of guy you’d expect to greet you at the Pearly Gates, he has a good enough heart, even if he’s about as mercenary as they come.”

  “Really?” Lacey ran a hand through her
hair in bewilderment.

  “Yes, we misjudged Teddy a couple of times. It wasn’t he who broke into your apartment. Jack hired someone, and Teddy was merely called there to check on things.”

  “Jack did what? And it wasn’t Teddy?” Lacey couldn’t be more surprised.

  “Yeah, I’ll get back to Jack in a sec.” Victor nodded with an expression that told Lacey the worst was yet to come. “So even I went to Teddy out of desperation. When I figured out you were in danger, I tracked him down and sent him to Geo’s house. It’s a blessing and a miracle he arrived in time. I caught the tail end of that.

  “But yeah, Teddy will have to make a few changes if he ever wants to play croquet with Rao—don’t ask—but he’s a far better man than he seems. Ask me again, sometime, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

  He stood and started to pace, then sat again.

  She wasn’t satisfied, but she let it go. Teddy had helped save her life, and she owed him at least thanks for that. “You were saying, though? About Jack?”

  “Yes. Jack was down on his luck. Got into a lot of hard drugs, heavy drinking. Et cetera. Flirted with suicide several times, and the day he was about to do it, well, it seems that’s the day his devil finally made a deal with him.”

  Lacey’s brow wrinkled. “I thought you Christians only believed in one ‘Devil’.”

  “With a capital ‘D’, yes. But… you learn a few things in Heaven that you don’t pick up in Sunday School. Like how all those Bible stories of people afflicted with devils were probably true. And probably a lot more frightening than we think.