Jirel took a small spiral notepad from his back pocket. “What was her name?”
“Loretta. Loretta Dannels.”
He paused for a second and glanced up. “Dannels…as in, Aiden Dannels?”
Elaine nodded. “Yes, do you know him?”
“We’ve met.”
“Who’s Aiden Dannels?” Aviira asked, crossing her arms.
“He works at the Alliance,” Jirel said to her. He made a motion with his hand indicating the top shelf. “Top tier.”
She contained a sigh. That was just what they needed, bodies—bad enough on their own, never mind possibly reanimated ones—on property belonging to a government high up.
“I, ah, I hesitate to ask, but do you have any idea who the…well, who they were?”
“Not yet.”
Elaine took a nervous sip of her drink. “I’m—I mean, not a suspect, or anything? I understand how strange it must be to find dead bodies on property that I own, but I assure you…”
“You’re not a suspect right now, Mrs. Turner,” Jirel said.
“Miss,” she said, quickly, like she was used to making the correction.
“Excuse me,” Jirel said. He pointed toward her with his pen. “I saw your ring, I just assumed.”
She did have a sizeable diamond on her left ring finger. It seemed to have more luster than she did.
“It’s fine,” she said with a dry smile. Her eyes drifted somewhere beyond Jirel’s face. “My fiancé…passed away last year. I just haven’t worked up the courage to take off the ring yet.”
“I’m very sorry,” Jirel said.
The soft smile lingered on her face for a few moments and then faded. “Well. I’m happy to help in any way you can, any information you need.”
“We’ll probably have to put a temporary hold on any work being done on your home for the time being. Just while we check things through.”
“Of course.” She waved a hand. “I’ve been putting it off this long anyway.”
“You know the Dannels well?” Jirel asked.
“Loretta, mainly. We met in a book club about two years ago. She was very supportive when—when my fiancé passed. But I’ve met Aiden a few times. He works very hard.”
“Any reason to think either of them might have been keeping a cellar with dead bodies in it?” Aviira asked. She caught Jirel sending her a look out the corner of her eye. She knew there was probably a more gentle way to ask the question, but it was just faster this way.
Elaine looked at her, seeming startled by the question. “No,” she said. A smile laced with embarrassment crossed her face. “I mean, you wouldn’t think so, but then I guess you never really know anybody these days, do you?”
It was a fair response, but something about it stood out to Aviira. Elaine wasn’t outright lying, but she was omitting a couple things. Aviira recognized the tactic; she’d made her career on it and was therefore exceptionally good at picking up on it.
“Well…we appreciate your time, Ms. Turner,” Jirel said. He reached into his wallet and handed her a business card. “If you have any questions, or maybe think of something…anything about the house you might have seen that was peculiar…please call me.”
She took the card and considered it for a moment before she looked up at him and nodded. A sad smile went across her face.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t have been of more help.”
***
“She’s in the clear,” Aviira said as they walked to Jirel’s car.
“Meaning?”
Aviira got in the passenger seat and waited for Jirel to close his door. “Meaning she has nothing to do with those bodies.”
He watched her for a second before he started the car. “How do you know that?”
“Just call it a hunch I guess. I know when people are bluffing. She was genuine.”
“Your tone makes it sound like there’s a ‘but’ at the end of that.”
She waved a hand. “I think she wasn’t being completely forthright about a couple of details, but they’re probably irrelevant in the grand scheme of things. Point is, she might own that property but she didn’t have a clue what was hiding under that shed.”
Jirel nodded. “Fair enough.”
“So this Dannels guy. You know him?”
“As an acquaintance. I didn’t even know he was married, so that should give you an idea how familiar I am with him.”
“Any reason to think he might know about those bodies?”
Jirel’s eyebrows went up and he leaned his elbow on the edge of his window. “I highly doubt it,” he said. “A man in his position would be committing political suicide to be involved with something like that.”
Aviira pulled one leg onto her seat. “Well, for his sake I hope none of those bodies belonged to anyone he knew, or he’ll be swallowing a handful of pills before tomorrow’s paper comes out.”
***
When they visited the SPUC department back at Headquarters, the place was abuzz with activity. The technician who greeted them explained that they hadn’t had anything quite as exciting as three reanimated bodies in their department in quite some time.
The Spooks were all a little weird; it just kind of came with the job description.
“I hope you are keeping in mind that these were once actual people,” Aviira said, unable to keep the distaste out of her voice. “You know, real people with lives and families.”
The technician looked up at her from behind his square glasses and sobered for a moment. “Well, of course. But with all due respect, Detective, that’s your part of the bargain. You deal with the philosophical part of it. We deal with the part that proves that supernatural activity has occurred.”
She had a litany of responses to that, but fortunately, Jirel stepped in for her.
“Do you have any ideas on identities yet?”
“We’re running forensics on dentals right now, since there’s no blood to run any DNA off, and no fingerprints. We might get them back by tomorrow morning. If the victims were Ancients, of course. If nothing comes back it means they’re humans and you’ll have to take that up with their departments.”
Jirel exchanged a look with Aviira. She shrugged; wasn’t like they didn’t already know that.
“What about the actual bodies? What can you tell us about those?”
“You mean what happened to them?”
Aviira blinked. “Why else would we be down here?”
The technician eyed her for a moment before looking back at Jirel, apparently deciding that he was the more rational of the two. “These three men were turned into what we call creepers. They belong to the same family as zombies, but only such that they are reanimated flesh. But whereas zombies are born by the passage of a virus via bites, creepers have to be created.”
Aviira felt her eyes narrowing slightly. She knew her world was filled with the things that made most nerds flock to their televisions, but sometimes it felt a little too out there even for her.
“Created…” Jirel said slowly. “How?”
“A curse,” the tech said, pushing his glasses back up his face. There was unfettered glee on his face, like he had been waiting his entire career to have a case like this. “A curse that begins with a sickness, a cold perhaps, and eventually becomes fatal to the victim. Reanimation can happen anywhere from twenty minutes to twenty-four hours after death.”
“Not a very particular curse, is it,” Aviira said under her breath.
The Spook didn’t appear to hear her. “They aren’t interested in eating the flesh of humans, but are aggressive to anything in their way.” He glanced over his shoulder at the examination room behind him. “We found gunshot wounds on these creepers, indicating that the cause of death…the second time anyway—” he grinned like it was some inside joke “—was from a bullet wound. They may be undead but they can still be stopped the same way you or I could. It’s quite possible someone created them as a…test of some sort, then hid them in the basement where
you found them to dispose of them.”
“How do you know they weren’t shot first and then reanimated?” Jirel said.
“The gunshots were definitely administered postmortem.” He looked up at the ceiling for a second. “Post…postmortem.”
“Oh god,” Aviira groaned under her breath. Even Jirel gave a small sigh. “What does someone gain by turning a person into a creeper?” she asked.
The tech’s eyebrows went up. “That’s your job, isn’t it? Detective?”
She lowered her chin and her gaze became a glare. Jirel sensed her agitation was rising. He cleared his throat. “I think she is asking from a literal standpoint. What’s the point of a creeper, if one has to take the effort to make them?”
The tech tilted his head. “You’ll have to consult with someone fluent in the dark arts, Detective. I haven’t the faintest why someone would want to be in possession of a creeper.”
Jirel nodded, but his face was still neutral and lacking any apparent emotion.
“Well,” he said to the technician. “You’ve been extremely helpful.”
Aviira looked at him and held in a smile. His words said one thing, but his tone told the Spook to go fuck himself. She had almost not expected the possibility of an attitude out of him.
But the Spook only smiled broadly as the insult went directly over his head. “Well, you’re very welcome, Detective.”
July 16th – Thursday
***
In the morning, Jirel offered to visit the Spooks to see if they’d come up with any identities overnight while Aviira went to pick up her photos from Tito.
“Since I could tell you were about ready to rip the guy’s throat out,” he said.
“Gee, was it that obvious?”
“Only a little.”
She shrugged and headed downstairs to meet Tito. He was seated at a stool looking at something on his computer when she walked into his office. He’d traded in his pink polo for a lime green one today. Aviira’s camera was on the counter next to him, the flash casing back to normal.
“Hey, girlfriend,” he said without looking at her. “You got something weird on these pictures.”
“Weird, like, my finger was in the way?”
Tito gave her a flat look. “No, like you got somebody in these pictures who shouldn’t be there.”
She leaned against the counter and something uncomfortable squirmed through her stomach. “Let’s see.”
Tito pulled a manila folder from his stack and opened it, pulled the second to last picture out of the pile and turned it toward her. Her eyebrows came together. The picture was the length of the cellar with the three bodies in the foreground. Jirel was on the left side of the frame. On the far side of the room, near the stairwell, was what appeared to be a full-bodied shadow facing her. Except that it seemed a little too solid to be a shadow. Even in the photo it looked almost three dimensional.
She took the picture out of Tito’s hand and studied it some more.
“Not my shadow, I was down on the floor,” she murmured. “And it’s not his, because he’s facing the other way.”
Tito nodded.
She chewed her lip for a second. “So what is that?” she asked quietly.
“That’s what I’m saying.”
Aviira tried to resist a shiver at the back of her neck, but it didn’t work. “Well fuck me,” she whispered.
“Looks like you’ve got a little bit of ghost work here.”
“You think—god, I feel like a moron just thinking it.”
Tito rested his elbow on the counter and dropped his chin into his palm. Raised his eyebrows. “You’re talking to a guy who drinks blood to survive here, girlfriend. Reality check time.”
“You think it’s like, the ghost of one of these dead guys?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Not the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” He went back to the folder and pulled out the last picture. “Oh, and you said something weird happened when you took this last picture?”
She nodded. He turned it toward her. The picture looked like it had been censored; the middle of the photo where the sigil had been was blacked out, blurred around the edges. Like some black spot had affixed itself to the center of her lens.
“What exactly were you taking a picture of here?”
“There was something on the wall,” she said quietly. “A symbol. Like a…an evil eye or something. I don’t know. Jirel found it covered up, like someone didn’t want us to see it.”
“Got that right.”
She shook her head. “What the hell does this mean?”
Tito shrugged. “I just print the pictures, girlfriend. But if I had to guess I’d say you got some serious dark magic floating around this case.”
Aviira sighed and put the picture back in the pile. Looking at it gave her an uneasy feeling. “I’m no good at this sort of shit. Take me back to special ops.”
“Mm, but your new partner’s so much cuter.”
She gave him a look. “Cuter than what?”
“The guy you’re dating now.”
“Should check your rumor information, Tito,” she said as she gathered the pictures. “I’m not dating anybody.”
“Thought you were with the hacker. With the eyes.”
She scoffed. “Jensen?” Tito nodded, and she shook her head. “Please. I don’t date and I certainly wouldn’t date him. Just a friends with benefits situation.”
Tito made a face like he didn’t believe her. “If you say so.”
“I do say so.” She put her camera back in the bag and slipped it over her shoulders. “Thanks for the pictures. And the camera.” He gave her a salute and she walked out.
She had to wonder, as she walked up the stairs, how any rumor about her and Jensen had reached all the way to Tito. She was sure that it wasn’t a complete secret, since he’d frequently been seen in her office back at special ops and people tended to talk, but Tito had specifically said dating. She’d have to get a plug on that rumor before long.
Jirel was just coming up the hall from the SPUC office when she got upstairs. He was carrying a file folder.
“Bad news,” she said.
“Me too.”
“You first.”
He held up the file. “All human. All three of them.”
“Fuck,” she whispered. “See if we can get Devaney to get us some identities then?”
“Or we go talk to the Dannels. Identities are useless if we can’t pinpoint where this is coming from in the first place.”
She gave him a look. “You really think if one of them is up to reanimating dead bodies they’re going to admit it?”
“I’m hoping you can use this magic bluffing technique you said you have.” When she gave him a flat look, he shrugged. “I don’t think either of them is behind it, but it could at least help point us in the right direction. Then we can go for identities.”
“Fine.”
“Fine. What’s your bad news?”
She frowned. “Show you when we get to the car.”
When they got to Jirel’s car upstairs, she pulled the picture of the shadow out of the folder and held it up to him. His eyebrows came together.
“What the hell is that?”
“Got me.”
He looked at it for a while longer and then drew in a deep breath, shook out his shoulders like he had a chill.
“What?”
“When you were packing up your stuff, I thought Devaney had come back down the stairs. Thought there was someone behind me. You know that sensation.”
She nodded. “Looks like there was someone behind you.”
Jirel handed her the picture back, cleared his throat. “Great.”
“It gets better.” She showed him the other questionable picture. “Remember the flash bulb went off and my camera ate shit?”
He nodded. “Someone doesn’t want us to see whatever that is.”
“Yup.” She looked at the picture again, shook her head. “We should probably go
back there and take another look at it. Get a drawing maybe.”
He sighed, but nodded. “Figures,” he said as he turned on the car.
“What’s that?”
“That my career’s going to end up depending on a case involving somebody who’s got a fetish for reanimating dead bodies.”
“Not quite what you thought you’d be doing when you joined the Society, is it?”
“Not even close.”
***
A call to Aiden Dannels’ office at the local Alliance headquarters turned up nothing other than his receptionist telling them that he was not in today. She was tight-lipped with any other details about when he would be back. So they did a little digging in the office and found his home address.
He wasn’t there, either. His wife answered the door.
“He’s on a sabbatical,” Loretta Dannels said as she led them through the expansive foyer and down the hall into the sitting room. The room smelled strongly—nearly overwhelmingly—of stargazer lilies. The odor assaulted Aviira’s sinuses with a burning sensation almost immediately. “His office wanted to keep that quiet, which is why I’m sure they didn’t give you much in the way of details.”
“Well, we don’t exactly need to speak to him directly,” Jirel said. “We actually have some questions about the house you recently sold to Elaine Turner.”
Loretta blinked. She was in her late thirties and looked moderately high-strung. Aviira got the immediate impression of the childless homemaker with not nearly enough hobbies. Her hair was pulled back off her forehead into a rigid, tight bun, every surface of her scalp held down with hairspray. Delicate diamond posts adorned her ears and she was also wearing a diamond tennis bracelet; remarkably well put-together for a housewife who wasn’t expecting company.
“Is there something wrong with it?”
“When did you sell her that house?”
“Oh. Ah…last summer, I believe. Yes, about a year ago.”
Jirel wrote it down, but Aviira remembered Elaine saying that she hadn’t been the owner for very long. Maybe the two of them had different definitions of how long was very long.
Shadows of Old Ghosts Page 5
