Freak Show (Episode One: The Nightshade Cases)

by Patti Larsen

  She turned, reaching for the professionalism she’d honed over the years to hide the hurt of not being able to share what she could do with others. It helped being raised British, in her estimation. All those emotions suppressed under Mummy’s careful eye. Ray led Gerri to the lightboard, showed her the X-Rays as she spoke in a clinical tone. Maybe Gerri wouldn’t hear her voice shake.

  “As I said at the scene, there were multiple stab wounds. The blade is two inches wide with a depth of six inches in length. The forensics team is attempting to identify the specific weapon through metallurgic testing and comparison of an impression they took of the clearest strike. Here.” She pointed. “Over the heart.” Ray swallowed, her façade crumbling as Gerri frowned, squinting at the X-Ray.

  “What the hell is that?” The detective leaned it, eyes scanning the center of the chest. Where Aisling’s heart should have been.

  “That,” Ray said, barely speaking above a whisper, “is what you’re not going to like.” She glanced over her shoulder, then back to Gerri, though she knew, without a doubt, they were alone. “Adam Rose doesn’t have a heart.”

  Gerri snorted, shook her head. She paled, then flushed, lips opening and closing before she finally met Ray’s eyes. “You’re full of shit,” she said, faint panic in her eyes.

  “I wish I was.” Ray stared up at the film. “I confirmed it when I opened her up. There were a few other anomalies.” She turned toward one of the drawers, felt Gerri pulled along behind her. “I have to show you.” The latch stuck a little, forcing Ray to jerk on it to get it open. The moment she did, she knew something else was wrong.

  “The heart’s not the only thing missing.” Gerri peeked inside as Ray pulled the tray toward her. It slid out easily, stainless steel cold under her hand. Light. Empty.

  “This is impossible.” Ray stared down at the tray then up at Gerri who frowned, chewing her lower lip. “I just put her in here.”

  “You’re sure you didn’t file her wrong?” Gerri waved at the other drawers, as though Ray had misplaced a piece of paper in a filing cabinet.

  That infuriated her. She leveled her best Mummy glare. “I’m certain,” she said, even as her inner, hateful voice meeped in her mind. Had she put Aisling in the wrong drawer?

  Gerri didn’t wait for permission, but grasped the handle next to her and pulled it open. The white sheet draped over the body inside revealed a heavy, white man. Jacob Harner didn’t look any better now than he had when she did his autopsy. “Heart attack,” Ray said without hesitation. “My, how much weight you’ve put on, Aisling. And your manicure needs some serious attention.”

  Gerri grunted something that sounded like a swear before slamming the body back into the drawer and thudding the lid shut.

  “Could she have been moved?” Gerri’s brows came together. “To another hospital?”

  “I don’t see why,” Ray said, turning to the computer. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Because her mind instantly went to conspiracy. She was spending far too much time with Kinsey. Maybe Robert had mixed up paperwork, transferred the body when he should have accepted a new one? It sounded entirely unlikely to Ray, and yet about as plausible as Aisling being heartless. A quick check of the system showed no such exchange. With Gerri hovering over her shoulder, it was hard to concentrate. Until she realized the obvious.

  “There’s no body even listed.” How was that possible? She’d logged her autopsy report just an hour ago, unable to hold off any longer. But the file was gone, the body was gone. Every trace of Aisling—Adam Rose—was gone. Except the X-Ray. Which she’d kept with her when she left last night, to pour over while she drank a bottle of red wine and tried to decide what to do.

  “Let me look into this.” Gerri’s growling voice wasn’t helping Ray’s nerves. She hated it when Gerri let her temper get the better of her. “There has to be a logical explanation.”

  Sure there was. Aisling was a paranormal and someone stole her body from the morgue to cover it up. Ray giggled softly, unable to stop herself. Gerri’s hand on her shoulder turned her around, away from the screen.

  “There is,” Gerri said, eyes soft and kind. “Please don’t freak out on me, Ray. We’ll figure this out.”

  Ray wanted to nod, to let the detective calm and soothe her. But she knew Gerri was wrong. “What if it’s happening again?” The loss of Joe Mutch, still clung to Ray like a cloud, dark mist blaming her for his death, though she was never able to stop it when she knew the end was near. “That thing that killed Joe—”

  Gerri looked away, jaw jumping. “Joe was killed by a lowlife drug dealer,” she said, in a tone that refused to hear otherwise. “Cut up and drowned as retribution for putting his girl in prison.” Ray’s memory of the night of his death took her to the edge of the lake, to the flash of moonlight on scales, the glimmer of long, sharp fangs. Maybe the drug dealer kid did kill Joe. But that thing? It dragged the body into the water. The sound of Gerri screaming, the report of her gun being fired over and over, lingered like a growing abscess Ray couldn’t heal.

  Just the creature, with eyes full of understanding, of intelligence. It stalked them through the park and dragged Joe’s dead body beneath the water for what reason she had no idea. And didn’t want to know. Not really.

  How had Gerri allowed herself to forget? To turn the truth so far around Ray didn’t recognize the words coming from her mouth? Because, like Ray’s reticence about the reasons for the creature’s attack, Gerri didn’t want to remember what happened. But it was one thing to turn from reasons why and quite another to ignore outright in favor of pure denial.

  What was Gerri so afraid of?

  Ray shook her head, looked away. “Whether you like it or not,” she said, “something strange is going on in this city,. Something unexplainable.” She pointed across the room at the X-Ray still clinging to the lightbox. “And there’s the proof.”

  Gerri backed away a few steps, a woman at war with herself. Ray slumped in her chair, hands between her knees, feeling drained, but vindicated. She’d told Gerri what she needed to know. The rest was up to the detective.

  They hung in that silent moment for what felt like eternity to Ray. As though they would never leave it, never move forward from this place of echoing solitude and fear. Until Gerri’s phone rang and shattered the bubble. Ray turned to the screen, doing another fruitless search as her friend answered.

  “Meyers.” Gerri’s voice was rough. With emotion? Ray didn’t know for sure. “Uh-huh.” The computer told her yet again, “search criteria not found.” Ray felt like pounding her fists on the keyboard, just to vent a little. “What? When?” The altered, surprised tone in Gerri’s voice turned Ray around again, in time to catch her shock turn to grim acceptance. “I’ll meet you there.” She tucked her phone into the interior pocket of her jacket, meeting Ray’s eyes with her stormy green ones. “Whatever you think is going on, it’ll have to wait.”

  Ray wouldn’t accept that. “What about the body?” They couldn’t just let this slide.

  Gerri shrugged. “That’s the thing about our line of work,” she said. “There’s always another body to worry about.” Ray stared at her, mind still frozen by the loss of Aisling. Gerri’s face softened yet again. “Get your stuff, Ray,” she said. “There’s been another murder.”

  ***

  INT. – THE STARLET LOUNGE - MORNING

  Gerri knew better than to trust the tears pouring down Roxy’s face, but the hardened, experienced part of her recognized they were real. This time, and for now. No way would the artful and careful queen allow herself to look so terrible in public otherwise. With black runnels of mascara running down her face, a small pool of it collecting under one puffy eye, her lipstick mostly chewed off her bruised looking lips and the blotchiness of a real cry marring her neck and cheeks, Roxy’s little show for Kinsey earlier had nothing on this all-out bawlfest mess.

  That, along with the softly whispering voice in her head, told her the queen’s distress was genuine. Cons
idering she’d just killed someone, Gerri could hardly blame her.

  “What were you doing here so early?” The club should have been long closed at 8am in the morning on a Friday.

  “Special all night show,” Salvador spoke up from across the room, voice cracking, face turned away from Roxy, from the scene. “We hold one every six months.”

  Explained all the warm bodies hovering around. Gerri stared at Roxy, giving her the chance to talk. Which she did.

  They always did.

  “I didn’t mean to, I swear, it was an accident, I thought she was trying to kill me.” Roxy repeated the same three sentences, in order, strung together like a litany. This was the third time she’d said the exact thing to Gerri since she’d walked into the dressing room backstage at the Starlet Lounge. Salvador was already there when Gerri arrived, but there was no sign of Curtis this time. Gerri noted details, like the absence of adornments on one of the stations, one she assumed previously belonged to Aisling, thanks to the black fabric draped over the mirror. The blood still staining Roxy’s shaking hands.

  “You have to believe me.” Jackson snorted next to Gerri’s ear, triggering her temper. She turned her head to glare at him, surprised to find him so close to her. He backed off a half step, though with an answering scowl of his own.

  “Sure, you didn’t mean it.” He gestured to the CSI who was slipping a plastic bag with a bloody knife into her silver case, the murder weapon. And at the fallen body of one of the dancers, blood pool spread to a cooling lake around her. Gerri watched Roxy’s eyes flicker to one side, had purposely forced the dancer to remain here, in the room, after dragging the shaking queen into the crime scene. She could tell Jackson didn’t approve, but the forensics team was almost done and it wasn’t like there was much of a question who killed the fallen queen.

  Not when there were three witnesses, one of them Roxy herself.

  “I was defending myself.” Finally, the attempt to dodge the death. Gerri waited, silent, letting Jackson take the lead. She stared at Roxy, keeping her face blank, knowing how much it unnerved the dancer, if only because she’d been told so in the past by others. Gerri’s stare was legendary and she used it to her advantage every chance she got.

  If her steady, green gaze was all it took to elicit a confession, she’d take it.

  “According to the two witnesses,” Jackson said, his disgust barely disguised, “you attacked Crystal,” he rolled his eyes, “when she fought with you over you taking her boa.” Gerri hated him for his judgment of the quivering queen.

  “That’s not what happened.” Roxy turned to Gerri, as she knew she would. “I swear. She scared me and I thought she was trying to kill me.” Desperation shone in her violet eyes. “Those two bitches walked in after. They made up that lie because they hate me.” More tears, these crocodile. Gerri smiled faintly, just to let Roxy see she knew it. The tears dried up.

  “And, you just happened to carry a knife around with you, is that it?” Jackson gestured to the CSI. She glanced at Gerri before handing over the bagged evidence . At least he used a glove, the idiot. The last thing Gerri needed was to have this slam-dunk ruined by chain of evidence accusations.

  “For protection.” Roxy looked down at her hands, the cuffs holding her wrists immobile. “We all carry something.” Her head snapped up. “Even Aisling. She had a Taser.” Like that was some huge shocker. Gerri had already gone over the contents of the dead transsexual’s purse.

  “Funny she didn’t use it on you when you stabbed her.” Jackson jotted notes as Roxy’s eyes widened, traveling from him before snapping back to Gerri.

  “I didn’t kill Aisling!” Enough desperation, enough honesty, the voice whispered. And yet, here she was, with another dead body and a knife. And a confession.

  Sort of.

  “Who are you afraid of, Roxy?” Gerri kept her voice low, intimate, as though they were the only two people in the room. Those violet eyes flashed around the space, taking in those who watched and listened before returning to meet Gerri’s.

  “Girl can’t be too careful,” she said.

  Gerri sighed softly, knowing that was it. Roxy shut down visibly, her whole body locking Gerri out in the way she tightened her narrow shoulders, perfectly penciled eyebrows pulling together.

  “Take him down to the precinct.” Jackson gestured to one of the unis who came forward to escort Roxy out of the room. Roxy looked like she wanted to correct him for the pronoun, but sullenly let it go. Salvador went after her, head down, shoulders slumped, the look of a man defeated. Gerri ignored her partner and crossed to the body, careful to keep her distance from the blood pool as the sudden need for a giant, barbequed steak hit her in the chest.

  Ray stood up while her assistant zipped the body bag, the two paramedics lifting the stretcher to its full height before wheeling the remains away.

  “Anything?” Gerri didn’t want to ask about this dancer’s heart. Didn’t want to know, quite frankly. But, from the calm look on Ray’s face, she needn’t have worried. The brunette’s anxiety from earlier at the morgue seemed to be gone. Gerri felt her own tension ease somewhat as Ray spoke.

  “Single thrust to the liver,” Ray said. “She bled out in a matter of minutes.”

  Gerri frowned, looking down at the blood pool. “The knife? Does it match Aisling?”

  Ray shook her head, leaning closer to Gerri as she spoke in a hushed tone. “No,” she said, eyes locked on Jackson across the room who stared at them with frustration on his face. Any second now, he’d be poking his damned nose in. Okay, so he was her partner and this was his case, too. Like she gave a crap. “The knife was different. Longer, thinner blade, double edged.” Ray’s eyes met Gerri’s. “In my professional opinion, the two crimes are unrelated, at least from a perspective of murder weapon match and attack pattern.”

  Gerri shrugged. “She didn’t have time for multiple blows,” she said, though her argument, she knew, was ridiculous. Even she didn’t believe it. Besides, someone Roxy’s size and physique would have to have been high or stronger than she looked to inflict that much damage. Stabbing someone repeatedly took stamina and considerable strength.

  Not that she couldn’t have. But.

  Gerri hated "but".

  “The dancer was… normal.” Ray’s whisper reached Gerri’s ears just before Jackson finally got the balls to interrupt.

  “If you’re telling Detective Meyers that queer didn’t kill the other queer,” he said with heavy dislike in his voice, “you’d better have evidence to back that up.”

  Ray shrugged, gathering her examiner’s case. She didn’t comment to Jackson, focusing on Gerri as though he hadn’t spoken. “I’ll do a full exam and give you my report in the morning.”

  Gerri didn’t comment as Ray left, mind turning. She already knew Roxy didn’t kill Aisling. But she did wonder why Roxy was so afraid she killed another dancer just for startling her. Yes, she believed the queen’s story.

  She just needed to understand why.

  Jackson was too close again, leaning in as the voice whispered to her. “Something you want to say, Meyers?”

  She almost laughed in his face. He thought her silence was about him? Arrogant son of a bitch. “Finish questioning the owner and the two witnesses,” she said, turning her back on him. She loved doing that, felt his eyes burning holes between her shoulder blades. Gerri suddenly hoped it wouldn’t take him long to come at her. She’d truly enjoy hurting him.

  Damn. Her therapist was going to kick her ass.

  Gerri was almost to her car when her phone rang. She hesitated a moment before answering Kinsey’s call, not because she didn’t want to talk, but because she had a weird feeling about it. Shrugging off her reticence, Gerri hit talk.

  It wasn’t long before she was sighing heavily into the receiver.

  “Look, I know, okay?” Kinsey sounded frustrated, anxious. “You’re busy, I’m busy. Ray is busy. But Grandmother is insisting.”

  And, if there was one thing
Gerri knew about Kinsey’s grandmother, Margot, it was that the old bitch always got her way. Pissed Gerri off to no end. “Let her,” she said.

  “Gerri.” Kinsey drew out her name with a plea in her voice. “It’s just dinner.”

  Another sigh. She couldn’t help it. “What time.”

  Gerri could almost feel the blonde’s relief through the phone. “Seven,” she said. “The Melton.” Naturally. Margot wouldn’t stay at the Brampton Inn or anything. Nothing but the very best for Kinsey’s grandmother.

  “Ray better be going, too,” Gerri said, slamming her car door, scowling at the steering wheel.

  “I just called her. She’s in. I really appreciate this, Ger.” Kinsey’s gratitude just made Gerri angry. She’d been witness to Margot’s manipulation of Kinsey years ago, when they went to college together. Almost as bad as Ray’s mother, though less evil and biting and more controlling. Like it mattered. Gerri settled into her seat, turning her attitude around with one simple thought.

  She wasn’t a college kid anymore. And Margot DanAllart couldn’t push her around. Gerri felt a grin growing on her face.

  “See you tonight, Kins,” she said, actually cheerful.

  Her friend’s pause spoke volumes. “Gerri,” Kinsey said.

  “This was your idea.” Gerri hung up, laughed out loud in the quiet heat of her car. If she played the night right, this might actually be fun.

  ***

  INT. – THE MELTON HOTEL - NIGHT

  Kinsey hurried up the steps to the hotel’s front entry, her high heel catching in the red carpet a moment, tripping her up. A handsome young man in a black uniform lunged for her, catching her elbow. Blushing furiously at the slip, she smiled at him before rushing inside.

  Damn it, she was late. Grandmother hated it when she was late. Kinsey knew it was wrong to fret, that she was a grown woman with a pair of doctorates and enough confidence to make grown men cringe , but when it came to Margot…