“There has to be dozens of agencies in this city,” Nico cut in, “How would they know where to look? They didn’t have a name.”
Dov threw his hands in the air. “How the hell would I know? Ask the boy genius,” he pointed at Nardo, “that’s his department. And if you’ve got a better idea, I’d like to hear it ‘cause as far as I can see, it’s the only thing that makes sense. If they knew where she lived before, they would’ve picked her up at her house and not tried to do grab her off the street. She didn’t even have a wallet that night. Everything was in her coat pocket and her key was around her neck.”
Nico’s hand slammed down onto the table. His chair scraped the floor as he pushed away. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, oh,” Col stretched his mouth in a grimace. “Somebody’s pissed.”
“He has a right to be. We should have seen this.”
“Sorry, my lord.”
“Cut the ‘my lord’ shit. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. We’ve been concentrating on the bars Hope didn’t go to, asking about her sister. We should’ve been looking at the ones she’d already been to. I don’t know if this is connected with her sister or she’s picked up a stalker.”
“If it’s a stalker,” Broadbent cut in, “It’s a wealthy one. Round the clock surveillance doesn’t come cheap.”
Canaan nodded his agreement. “Either way, we need to backtrack and find the bar where someone took an interest.”
“Bloodsuckers. Where I found her,” Nico said as he came through the door. “She had the key ring in her purse, the purse she lost at Bloodsuckers. Kelmar Realty.”
“I’m on it.” Nardo was at his desk typing before he finished the sentence. Scanning quickly, he clicked twice on the screen. He stared at the printed material for a moment and then said, “Whoa. I think Dov’s onto something, but it’s not going to do us much good.”
“Figures.”
“Not your fault. This isn’t proof, mind you, but I’m not a big believer in coincidence.” He tapped the screen. “Newspaper article. Kelmar Realty burned to the ground with the owner inside. It was a one woman operation that specialized in residential leasing. All records lost. No sign of foul play. Seems Mrs. Kelmar was a heavy smoker. They figure she fell asleep at her desk.” He looked up at Canaan. “There has to be an autopsy. You want me to check it out?”
“Absolutely.”
“Boss?”
“Yeah?”
Nardo’s eyes slid to Nico and he said slowly, “I got something else you probably need to know. They found another body. North about a hundred and fifty miles. Same as the others. Suspected suicide, extremely ill, mid-twenties. That’s all I got. No ID, no autopsy report. Not yet anyway. Fisherman hauled her up out of a local lake. Small town paper’s screaming possible murder. Maybe for the headline, maybe ‘cause someone’s doing their homework. Don’t know if the big guys are paying attention yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”
“How long have you had this?” Nico asked. His finger tapped the table in a steady beat.
“I put it together last night. Story’s about two days old. I’ve flagged every paper within a two hundred mile radius, but a lot of the small towns up north aren’t much more than villages, really, and their rags are weekly and not on line. A body’s a big deal, storywise, but I don’t know how the cops will react.”
Broadbent sat and listened with his elbows on the table, hands steepled over his mouth. When he spoke, all heads turned. “I think Nardo’s right about the story value of a suspicious death in a small town. Had ‘homework’ been done, I believe the reported would have published the findings. On the other hand, a young, obviously dying young woman choosing a peaceful and bucolic setting to end it all sounds rather romantic and entirely possible. The authorities here in the city ruled Nico’s find a suicide without an autopsy. Most small towns in this state have an elected coroner, not necessarily a pathologist…” He looked over at Dov and Col “…a doctor specializing in death and disease. It would be easy to rule a suicide.”
“Hope’s going to want an ID,” Nico said quietly. “We can’t keep this from her.”
“All I’ve got is Caucasian female about five foot five, dark curly hair, blue eyes, approximate weight ninety to a hundred pounds.”
“It fits.”
“Ninety pounds? She’d be a bag of bones. And why approximate?” Col wanted to know.
Broadbent answered. “She’d been extremely ill and if she’d been in the water for a while, there’d be damage and decomposition.” He looked over at Nico. “We have to decide what to do about Hope?”
“We don’t have to decide anything. I’ll talk to Hope and I’ll let you know.” Nico tapped the table twice, pushed back his chair and walked out.
“In this corner, ladies and gentleman, wearing a dorky tweed jacket and bow tie, we have the Professor,” Dov announced into his fist while Col provided the roar of a crowd. “And in this corner, in black Armani, Mr. GQ.” Boos and hisses followed.
“This isn’t a contest.” Broadbent seemed amused.
“Maybe you missed it, Prof. It was kind of subtle, but I’d say you just got bitch slapped.”
“One does what one can for one’s friends.”
Chapter 18
Hope read the pages of the novel carefully, as if it were a text book. This was the third such book she’d read and she needed to get it right. After all, if she’d read Nico’s mind correctly, there was going to be a test in her future. She was determined to get an A. It wasn’t going to be easy. Some of the things these characters did with each other were beyond her imagining, yet the flashes she received from Nico’s imagination told her he was heading in the same general direction and she didn’t think he read these types of books.
In spite of what the others thought, she wasn’t completely naïve. She knew where babies came from and how they got there. She’d thought the process was fairly straightforward, in and out so to speak, in what she now knew was called the missionary position. She smiled at the reference. It was one she understood. She’d never found the idea of the act particularly appealing and thought of it more in terms of animal husbandry; something that must be done to produce offspring. She’d often daydream about having children of her own but rarely did she think about the getting of them.
Apparently, if you could believe these novels, and they were fiction after all, the getting of children wasn’t the purpose at all. The purpose was to share in mutual pleasure and oh my how these characters shared! In every conceivable position. And every conceivable place! In the bed, on the floor, on the table, on the sofa, even out of doors. The list went on and on.
She had to admit, she liked these stories of romance and adventure and the sex scenes certainly sent a spicy tingle to places where she’d never felt one before, but she simply couldn’t see herself crying out in the throes of ecstasy as the women in these novels did. And while Nico certainly filled the role of hero to perfection, she couldn’t picture him fiddling about in places it embarrassed her to think of. Still, she kept reading and found herself looking for more.
All things will come in time, she thought. There was no pressure from Nico. She would read and learn and sooner or later, she’d be able to do the things she knew would make him happy. If only she didn’t have to do them naked.
A hand waved in front of her face and she jumped out of the fog of her musings. The book slid to the floor at her feet and she reached for it, hoping to snatch it up and hide it alongside the cushion where no one could see the title or the cover. She was too late.
Nico smiled that knowing half smile as he checked the covers, front and back. “One of Grace’s or one of your own?” he asked with eyebrows raised.
“G-Grace thought I might enjoy it,” she stammered.
“And do you?” The corner of his mouth twitched.
He was teasing her. He knew she’d be embarrassed and was enjoying the prolonging of it. He was no better than the twins.
“Yes,” sh
e answered with her head up and shoulders back, “I am. The story is very exciting and the sexy parts are exciting, too!”
She had a ‘so there!’ look on her face that almost made him laugh, he was so pleased to see the little spark of fire, but he held the laughter in check. He tapped the picture of the muscular half naked man on the front as he handed it back.
“If you read too many of these, you’re going to be disappointed.”
“Grace isn’t disappointed and she’s read hundreds of them.” That might have been an exaggeration, but she wasn’t taking it back. She was still a little miffed that her innocence was the subject of everyone’s fun. She was getting tired of it. It must have shown in her face because Nico was immediately contrite.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I only meant to tease, not to anger.”
“I know you did,” she sighed, “but you of all people should know how hard this is for me.” They’d spent a few more days doing what Col described as making out and each time Nico’s hands strayed a little farther and each time she felt a little more breathless and excited, but she knew she wasn’t ready for the rest. “I haven’t had a lifetime of books and magazines and television to help prepare me for this and knowing that everyone in this House is watching and waiting doesn’t make it any easier. And what do they expect. I’m almost twenty-eight years old and I just had my first kiss.”
Nico took her hands in his and lifted her to her feet. “It’s all right, Hope. No one is expecting more than you can give. Have I complained? Have I made you feel that I’m unhappy or unsatisfied?”
“No, you haven’t,” she admitted, but she’d felt the mighty bulge in his trousers pressing up against her thigh or her rump and if the books were to be believed, the condition could become quite painful for a man. She wondered if, like the heroes in the books, he took care of the problem alone in the shower. She colored at the thought. Nico was holding out his hand.
“Come,” he said, “It’s a beautiful night. Let’s get our coats and go for a walk. Isn’t that what courting couples do? We’ll hold hands and I’ll take you to the park and tell you of all the plans Manon and Grace have made for it. Maybe you’ll see what I can’t.”
There were other things to talk about, but those could wait. It was still early evening and they had plenty of time. Right now, Hope needed a little courting and reassurance.
In many ways, she was like the girls of his youth; innocent by today’s standards, yet very aware that their gifts had value. To win those gifts, there were the rituals of courtship where young men vied for the attentions of a young lady. There were stages to courtship; getting to know one another, family approval, spending time alone out on the porch or under a tree in the yard and at long last, walking out, where a stroll through the village or neighborhood declared the young man’s intentions to one and all. The walks would get longer, kisses would be stolen and sometimes a bit more.
He and Hope had already skipped around a bit, the kissing for instance, and they’d certainly satisfied the meeting under the watchful eyes of family part. Now it was time for a little stepping out. He wasn’t trying to recreate the ritual only the mood.
He held out his arm for her and she wrapped her hand around it almost skipping in her delight.
“Does this count as a date? It’s okay if it’s not. I’ve never been anywhere with a man so I wouldn’t know a date if I fell over it.” She laughed at herself. “I’m babbling, I know. I don’t care.” She held him still while she kissed his cheek and then continued walking. “That was an apology.”
“And what is this apology for?”
“You’re paying for someone else’s crimes.” She patted his arm affectionately and explained, “I grew up in a house where children were seen and not heard. I became my father’s housekeeper where my opinions were considered worthless and therefore never asked for. In between teaching thirty two children and keeping my father’s house, I spent what little free time I had visiting the old, the sick, and the lonely. I was talked to, talked at, and talked around. Other than classroom instruction to my group of five to ten year olds, I never talked at all. Yes, ma’am, no sir, I’m sorry or I beg your pardon. I could have spent my whole life never saying anything except those four phrases.”
“And? This would be a bad thing because…?”
She could hear the laughter in his voice and knew he was teasing her again. Laughing herself, she kissed his cheek once more.
“That was me taking my apology back. I’ve decided you’re paying for your own crimes. This is all your fault. You brought me here, where people are talking all the time, mostly at the same time. My mouth has gone wild. I’m suffering from Dov and Col Syndrome. If it’s in my head, it’s out my mouth.”
Nico stepped in front of her so quickly she stumbled into him. His arms went around her back, one hand cradling her head as his mouth came down on hers. Without thinking, her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back. When she was thoroughly into the kiss, he broke it off and stepped back.
“That was me curing Dov and Col Syndrome.” He took her arm and hurried her across Park Street.
“Very funny, Mister.”
They came to a huge rusting arch with iron vines and leaves twisting up its columns to the words sculpted in decorative script declaring this to be Hayden Park. Long spears of iron formed twelve foot gates which were latched and locked with a large metal box where they joined. The lock box needed an old fashioned skeleton key to open it; a super-sized one by the look of the whole and Hope half expected Nico to draw one from his pocket. Instead, he placed his hand flat against the box. The lock clicked and the gate creaked open an inch. He pushed the gate wide enough for them to enter and closed it behind them. Hope heard the lock fall into place.
Nico chuckled at her surprise. “I can open simple locks like this one. Canaan is the master. He can pop the lock on anything.”
There was no way this giant weed choked lot could be described as a park, though there were signs that someone had made an effort to clean it up. Off to the right, two piles of debris were centered at either end of a former basketball court. One appeared to be a junk pile with twisted metal, broken boards, chunks of concrete and old tires. The other pile was built of rock, huge blocks of cut stone, some broken, most whole.
Beyond the courts, Hope saw familiar tall triangles and crossbars; swing sets like the one that sat in the school yard back home. Looking more closely, she saw the pathways had been cleared of the weeds that typically grew through the cracks in cement. On the left, under the branches of four budding maple trees, sat six cement picnic tables. Three were scrubbed clean of the graffiti that marred the others.
“I’m not complaining, mind you. It feels so good to get out of the house. But this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when you said we were going to the park. I had visions of green grass and flower beds and old ladies walking their dogs.”
“Then you have the same visions as Manon and Grace. I can’t see it myself. They’ve made improvements, I’ll grant you. Dov and Col are the labor force. Grace plies them with promises of meatloaf and chocolate chip cookies. And Otto has cleared the area of most of the human crime. He’s too old and frail to fight demons so he’s taken on the job of neighborhood constable.”
“Too frail? Otto looks in great shape for a man his age.” Hope strolled to the first clean table to sit. Nico sat beside her.
“For a human, Otto would be in great shape. For a Guardian, he’s old and because he’s turned, he’s aging fast. He’s not strong enough to fight demons anymore.” He looked down at her and the corner of his mouth twitched. “How old do you think the old man is?”
Hope laughed and lifted her forefinger in reprimand. “Oh no you don’t. You think I’ll say sixty-six or seven, but you’d be wrong. I happen to know how old Manon is and they were mated over and over before they were bound.”
She was referring to the Paenitentian practice of mating, where a man and woman pledged to be faithful to e
ach other and raise any children together for a period of twenty years from the birth of their last child. According to tradition, the joining could be renewed as many times as the parties wished and the obligations to their children couldn’t be severed. Nico knew it to be nonsense.
Hope now put the finger to her chin. “I’m going to guess three hundred and seventy five years.”
“Not bad. You’re only a hundred and thirty-nine years short.”
“How did you do that so fast?” She scribbled in the air in front of her nose. “Four, carry one, one, carry one… five hundred and fourteen? No way.”
“Yes indeed, way. I told you we were a long lived tribe.”
She eyed him suspiciously. “So how old are you?” Nico looked about thirty-five.
“Younger than Canaan and older than Broadbent.”
He tried to recapture the sardonic smile, but she saw the falsehood in it and felt something else in his thoughts. Her hand reached out and settled atop his, anchoring it to the tabletop.
“You don’t know, do you? You don’t know how old you are. Why?”
This wasn’t something he talked about. It was no one’s business but his own. It was certainly nothing he wanted to share with this red haired witch he’d known for a little more than a month. He felt the soothing movement of her thumb, back and forth across his wrist. She was watching him, waiting. There was no judgment in her eyes, only gentle question.
“Tell me,” she whispered, never taking her eyes from his.
“There’s nothing to tell. I was given away as an infant. I can estimate, but the rights of passage for other boys of the Race never applied to me, so it’s a rough estimate at best. It’s not important.”
Hope tenderly placed her hands to either side of his face and kissed him. “I think it is. To you. You have to help me though, because I don’t understand. There are probably a lot of people out there who don’t have an exact date of birth or don’t know their parents. It’s sad and I can’t imagine what it was like for you, but Nico, it’s not unusual.”
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