by Kim Pritekel
****
“Okay, so you have to be able to picture Joe Friday over here,” Oscar explained, a whiskey and Coke in his hand as he rose from the couch where he’d been sitting with Linda and Paul. He put his hands together as though the tumbler he held was the grip of a pistol. “’Be quiet,’” he said, imitating Catania’s voice. She laughed from where she and Ally sat on the massive stone hearth. “‘I hear the guy in the bedroom. He sounds like he’s stuck or something.’” He handed his drink to Linda and resumed the position of his hands. “So, with the force of friggin’ Jean-Claude Van Damme, she kicks the door open.” He raised his foot and kicked through a pretend door. “’Freeze!’”
“Oh god,” Catania groaned, covering her face.
“‘Oh shit,’” Oscar said, voice flat, still pantomiming his partner’s actions. “‘Uh, I’m real sorry, guys,’” he said, backing away from the imaginary scene. “‘Uh, carry on.’”
The room erupted into laughter, totally at Catania’s expense. Face red, she emerged from behind her hands to see Ally looking at her, amusement dancing in her deep blue eyes.
Clearing her throat to try to get Ally’s beautiful face out of my mind, she returned her attention to Oscar. “Yeah, shall we talk about the time you mistook gum for a used condom?”
“You wouldn’t,” Oscar drawled, reaching for his drink again.
Catania gave him a shit-eating grin. “Oh, I would.”
****
With massive amounts of hugs, goodbyes, and leftovers to last for days, Catania and Ally were headed back toward town. Ally had to arrive for her shift in two hours, but Catania wanted to make sure they had plenty of time for the little stop she had planned. She’d pulled Karen aside and they’d spoken about her idea. Catania was thrilled that she was on board.
“So, did you have fun?” Catania asked, taking a left on Training Bra Blvd.
“I did.” Ally gave her an incredibly serene smile. “Your mom is great. She really loves you guys. I’m just stunned at how much your family just kind of gathered us non-family right in.” She grinned. “Linda is great, too. I really liked her. We swapped numbers.”
“Oh, Linda scored your digits, huh?” Catania asked.
“Oh yeah, totally,” Ally replied, the same teasing tone in her voice. “We’re going to work out a way to sneak her out next Friday night, get past this week of Black Friday and all the madness, you know.”
“Sweet. Hey, speaking of sweets, where on earth did you pull that cream bread recipe from? I honestly think my mother is ready to kick me out of the tree and stick you on the branch in my stead.”
Ally let out a full-on laugh that Catania found adorable. She sounded so happy and carefree, something she hadn’t seen in the usually quiet woman in the entirety of the time she’d known her. “I came up with that recipe during my first year in school.”
“School?”
“Yeah. I…I’m a graduate of culinary school.”
Catania’s eyebrows shot up as she looked over at her. “Seriously?” At Ally’s nod, she added, “Why are you a waitress and part-time cook at the diner? You should be in a restaurant somewhere.”
Ally sighed. “My degree is under my married name. I’m too afraid to use it. I pretty much stay working at places that will…” She gave Catania a side glance. “Help me out.”
Finally reaching the highway that would lead back into town from the mountains, Catania slowed at the first traffic light they’d hit on the return trip. She studied Ally’s profile for a moment. “He’s looking for you, isn’t he?”
“I think so, yes,” Ally admitted softly.
Catania was quiet for a long moment, so many thoughts and emotions going through her mind. She’d already made her decision before she spoke with Karen, but now she was even more determined.
After a thirty-minute drive filled with idle chatter, Catania turned off the road she was on and onto a tree-lined side street, their skeletal branches frosted with the light snow they’d received the day before.
“Uh, Nia, the diner is back that way.” Ally hitched her thumb in the correct direction.
“I know. I want to show you something first.”
The Jeep pulled up in front of Aberdeen House. It was quiet; no cars or foot traffic out in the chilly early evening. Cutting the engine, Catania gave Ally a quick smile of encouragement before climbing out, her boots crunching on the packed snow.
“This is quite the house,” Ally exclaimed, her words a puff of steam. “Is this a single residence?”
“Sadly, no. It’s been broken up into so many different things over the years. Now, it’s apartments.” They reached the front door and Catania turned the knob and pushed one side of the large double doors open, indicating Ally should enter before her.
Door closed behind her, Catania retook the lead and led Ally down the long hallway to the kitchen. She glanced at her, curious what her reaction would be to such a wonderfully modern commercial kitchen.
“Nice, huh?”
“Beautiful. You could do some serious cooking in here,” Ally said, trailing her fingertips over the five-burner gas stove and along polished countertops.
Catania headed to the pantry, where Karen had told her to go. There, just as she’d been directed, she found a ring of keys hanging on a hook behind the huge container of flour.
“Bingo. Okay, let’s go back this way.” Leading the way back toward the under-the-stairs apartment, she picked through the keys. “How are we doing on time?”
“My shift starts in about forty-five minutes,” Ally said from behind her.
“Okay.” Catania stopped in front of the rounded top door. “She said third silver key from the left…or not. Let’s try the other left.” The key inserted and turned and she was able to open the door. “Come on,” she said, holding the door open for Ally.
“What is this? Oh, wow. I figured it would be a closet.”
“Yeah, me too the first time. Isn’t it wild?”
“This is so cool. It’s like a fun little hideaway,” Ally said, walking around the small space, immediately going to the stained glass window. “I bet this is stunning in the sunlight,” she said, grinning at Catania. With the sun already down, the artificial overhead light was all they had.
“Come on, there’s more.”
The two headed down the narrow hallway and stairway to the lower level, which had been completely repainted since Catania had been there last, drywall hung to create a tiny but private bathroom. The worn carpeting had been ripped out, replaced with engineered, medium-stained wood flooring.
“What is this place?” Ally asked, walking over to the kitchenette before checking out the small bathroom. The bathtub had been replaced by a stand-up shower to save space.
“Well, that’s up to you,” Catania said, leaning back against the counter. “See, I told you this was split into apartments. The residents here have some minor issues and need a little extra eyeball on them now and then. Part of their rent is breakfast and dinner, if they want it.” She shoved her hands nervously into the pockets of her jeans and shrugged. “Karen needs a cook.”
Ally nodded, seeming to understand what she’d just been told. “Okay,” she drawled quietly. “So, what does this place have to do with that?”
“Well, see, along with a small monthly salary, room and board is also part of the compensation for whomever he or she happens to be that takes the job.”
“Wait, are you telling me that for working here as a cook for two meals a day in that crazy cool kitchen, you get to live here?” she asked, indicating the room around them.
Catania nodded. “That I am.”
Ally looked around, seeming to disappear inside her own head and emotions for a moment. At length, she met Catania’s understanding gaze. “It would be all mine?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“Yes.”
“And, would I have to put it under my name?”
Catania smiled, shaking her head. “Hell, I bet if I spoke to Karen you could eve
n put it under my name if you want. Ally, I’m going to protect you.” She reached inside her flannel button-up and pulled out the badge she always wore on a chain around her neck, even when off duty. “That’s what I do, right?”
Catania was taken aback when she suddenly had an armful of Ally. She smiled, holding the trembling woman to her. “You know,” she added softly. “Just in case you want to change your digs.”
Ally laughed through her tears. “You’re a good investigator.”
“Eh, it pays the bills.”
Chapter Nine
Catania found herself sitting on a couch in a dark room, only the light from a massive screen on the wall lighting the indefinable space. She looked at the pair on the screen and realized it was a scene from the 1980s’ romantic comedy Can’t Buy Me Love. The two stars, the still-gangly Patrick Dempsey and the pretty Amanda Peterson, portraying Ronald and Cindy, were in the scene.
Sensing she wasn’t alone, she glanced to her left to see Squirrel sitting next to her, a bucket of popcorn on her lap. The teen smiled at her.
“Love this movie,” she said, tossing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.
Confused, Catania looked back to the movie, startled to see the blond actress on screen looking directly at her, even as her male counterpart continued to remain in character and deliver his lines.
“You should go find her,” the actress said.
Catania pointed at herself. “Are you talking to me?”
“Of course. You better hurry. Time will run out soon.” With those cryptic words, the actress returned her focus to the scene on the screen.
Confused, she looked to her left and saw Squirrel’s bucket of popcorn lying on the couch, but the teen had vanished. Standing, she looked around the dim space, now noting there seemed to be an opening to a dark alleyway.
“Find her,” she heard whispered.
Turning back to where the movie screen was, she now saw it was the other side of the rain-slicked street she stood on. Disoriented, she tried to get her bearings when she realized she was on a street in Pueblo, on the East side. Not a good part of town.
Her attention was caught by the sound of light giggling in the air. This returned her focus to the alleyway. Her natural defense was to reach for her service pistol, but she was unarmed. Deciding to continue on, she hurried to the mouth of the alleyway, parts awash with reflected moonlight in what seemed to be puddles of rain water.
“Squirrel?”
She saw movement farther into the alley so she started forward, eyes wide to see as much as possible. Entering the alley, she surreptitiously took in all her surroundings, left and right, just as she’d been taught as a rookie. She’d also been taught to listen to her instincts. Her first sergeant had told her that ability was known as The Gift. Every good cop had it.
She froze, a soft sound coming from the left. She studied the deep shadows that painted the brick wall of a building, the rust-orange ladder of the fire escape catching her eye, as well as a tattered poster for the 1997 movie Titanic taped to the brick. Confused by the randomness of it, she moved her focus back from the poster to the area where she’d heard the noise, which she heard again, though this time it was farther away down the alley.
She stopped, realizing what she was hearing was a name, whispered, almost hummed. Initially she thought perhaps it was her name, but she was hearing “Nene.” Nobody called her Nene. It was always her full name or Nia.
“Hello? Are you talking to me?” she called out, wondering if perhaps there was someone else out there.
She heard a short but sharp scream that sent her running. Her tennis shoes slapped on the wet, pitted pavement, water splashing up the legs of her jeans as she passed more puddles. She came a sudden stop as the alley ended in a brick wall. She could turn left or she could turn right. More humming caught her attention, humming that was closer and sounded like a familiar voice.
“Best not go this way, honey,” a woman’s voice said to her right.
Catania would have found it funny if she didn’t have such a feeling of dire panic in her heart. Natalie Cole leaned against the side of the building, filing her nails.
“What?”
Without another word, the talented woman pointed a well-filed nail in the opposite direction.
Catania barely had time to consider the absurdity of what was happening before she heard the scream again, sending her off at a sprint. She stopped short once again, horrified as she saw Squirrel pinned against the wall of yet another building in the alleyway maze. A large hand held her off the ground by her throat, the teen flailing uselessly at her attacker.
To her horror, the humanoid shadow leveled a brutal punch to the teen’s stomach, causing her to cry out even as her body jerked against the hand that pinned her. She received several more punches and slaps to the face before, in a move so quick Catani didn’t see it coming, the figure yanked Squirrel away from the wall and held her back against it, now facing the detective.
Again, she reached for her gun, but again was disappointed to find it missing. She stood not more than fifteen feet away from the duo and, no matter how hard she tried, could move no closer, her feet refusing to lift off the pavement. Unable to do anything physically, she decided to study the perp. It was the strangest thing she’d ever seen. She assumed it was male by its size, but it was literally like a shadow figure, solid black, yet only humanoid in shape. There were no discernable features, no details, just moving smoke.
“You helped kill me,” it said, a muddy voice that sounded male, but absolutely no way to determine who it belonged to. It almost sounded like several men speaking in unison.
More creeped out than she’d ever been, Catania held her ground even though she didn’t physically have a choice. “Who are you?”
“I am all this little whore will never be,” he said with a growl. “I am what she made me.”
“Who?” Catania asked, desperately trying to understand what he was trying to tell her. “Who are you talking about, because I don’t think it’s Squirrel.”
“Squirrel,” he mocked, a hand coming up in what almost looked to be a gentle, loving caress of the side of her face, beaten and bloody. The shadowy fingers grazed along the jawline before, in the blink of an eye, the other hand came up and cupped Squirrel’s chin, jerking so hard sideways that the teen had no chance to react as her neck snapped with a sickening crunch.
“No!” Catania yelled, her eyes bulging in shock and distress as she watched Squirrel’s lifeless body slump to the ground at her killer’s feet. “You son of a bitch!” She could feel the figure’s eyes on her and she swore he was smiling.
“Indeed.” He stepped over his victim’s body and headed down the alley before he stopped, glancing over his amorphous shoulder. “Good luck, Catania.”
Catania wrestled with the blankets and shot up as her scream echoed throughout her bedroom. She gasped for air, eyes huge as the darkness of that alley dissipated, revealing the early morning beginning to come in through the blinds.
Realizing she was safe in her own bed and that Squirrel wasn’t dead—she hoped—she flopped back down on the mattress, a hand flopping down on her heaving chest.
“Jesus, what a fucked-up dream,” she gasped. “Fuck!” she yelled, startled as her phone’s ring tone sounded again. Figuring that’s probably what had woken her, she reached over to the bedside table and brought the phone to her ear after tapping the button to answer. “D’Giovanni…Hey, Gwen, how’s it going?” she asked once the Deputy Medical Examiner identified herself. “Okay…Yeah, right. No I.D. yet, no…Okay, be there in twenty minutes, bye.”
Blowing out a breath, she ended the call and scrubbed her face with her hands to pull herself fully out of that dream that stayed with her.
****
Catania chewed nervously on a fingernail, the heels of her boots echoing in the cement tunnel she was walking in. She hated going down there, but in her line of work, there were times when it just was unavoidable. Gwen hadn�
�t told her on the phone what she had for her, so the mystery continued.
“Hey, Tracy,” she said, and accompanied her verbal acknowledgement of the morgue intern with a small wave. “Thanks,” she said, walking through the door to the main office that the young pre-med student held open for her.
She made her way to the back where, as Gwen put it, the magic happened. Gwen Sweeney was a beautiful black woman who looked far more like she should have been backing Tina Turner as an Ikette in 1968 rather than a pathologist in the Pueblo County morgue.
“Is Nia here yet?” Gwen called from her office, tucked next to the M.E.’s office. “If she ain’t, you call her and tell her white ass to get here! I ain’t got all damn day!”
Catania chuckled as she rounded the corner to look into the small office, neat as a pin, just like the lovely woman sitting behind the desk. “I told you give me twenty minutes,” she said, glancing at her watch. “Eighteen. Jeesh.”
Dr. Sweeney looked at her, looking startled behind her stylish glasses, which she yanked off and tossed to her desk. “Come on,” she said, hurrying around her desk, high heels clicking on the tile. “I have something to show you.”
Catania followed the fashionable woman into the room where examinations were conducted, and on the stainless steel table was the Jane Doe that had been discovered in the field a few days before. She was naked, only covered by a sheet to her neck. Catania knew the autopsy had already been performed, the victim essentially sewn back together just enough to keep her intact.
“Okay,” Gwen said, grabbing a report that rested on the dead woman’s covered chest. “We got all the samples back, toxicology, all the fun stuff. She had nothing in her system at all, no alcohol, drugs, clean as a whistle.”
Catania nodded, taking the report she was handed, flipping through the pages and data that would be added to the woman’s Murder Book. “Okay. I’m going to guess she was strangled?” she asked, nodding at the woman on the table.
“Yup. Look here.” Gwen walked over to the victim and pulled the sheet back just enough to reveal her throat. “See all the bruising here? Pretty consistent with manual strangulation. Someone used their hand.” She met Catania’s gaze. “Pretty strong fella, too. I’d wager no ropes or garrote.” She reached her hand out and, just shy of actually touching the pale, grayish flesh, spread her fingers out, the tips lined up with the bruising. “One hand.” She shook her head, removing her hand. “He meant business. And, from the amount of petechiae in her eyes, I think this was a long, slow process.” She crossed her arms over her ample chest. “As sick of a dude as this was, it gets worse.”
