by L. A. Jones
“Hmph,” he said. He pulled up an Excel spreadsheet. “Look, here, and here,” he said, jabbing his finger at the screen.
“Uhh,” Aradia replied, boggled by the columns of densely laid information. “I’m not really sure what you’re showing me. Maybe you shouldn’t risk your job for this after all.”
“This is a document we found on Herr Hitzig’s office computer.”
“Ooh!” she exclaimed. “Did you subpoena it?”
He shook his head. “Nah, didn’t have to. So look here. It basically outlines several aspects of Dereck’s business relationship to the deceased, Mr. Stanley. Does anything jump out at you?”
She stared. She could probably figure it out if she had some time, but she didn’t feel like sifting through the details to find what her father was talking about. “Not really my strong suit, dad. I view the past, you decipher spreadsheets.”
“Fair enough. Dereck had an incredibly favorable agreement with Stanley. Either he is a brilliant negotiator, or Stanley was very desperate. Or both. Either way, here’s how it worked. If the store did well, Dereck got a pretty sizable share of the profits. If it went under, Dereck would take the lion’s share of the sale price.”
“Sale price?” Aradia asked. “If the store’s not profitable, how much would it really go for?”
“The store’s irrelevant,” her father explained. “The land is what’s valuable. My guess is Dereck got involved as an investor simply to make off like a bandit when the shop ultimately failed.”
“And bandits go to jail,” Aradia prodded.
“Only like a bandit, not just like one,” Ross countered. “But look. The store didn’t fail. At least, not at the point that Mr. Stanley was killed. Stanley’s next of kin, the Baltimore cousins I mentioned, inherited it. The agreement Dereck had with Stanley is iffy on what happens now.”
“So maybe he’s trying to take the whole thing? You know, fight the cousins for control, since he was a business partner and they’re estranged distant relatives.”
“I trust your instincts,” Ross said. “Tomorrow in the office I’ll take another look over everything we have on Dereck. But there’s nothing here in the financials. He’s not challenging the cousins at all. They made him an offer, a reasonable and fair one, to buy out his stake in the store, and he’s already accepted it.”
Aradia’s shoulders sank in defeat. She was stubborn, but she had to admit the case against Dereck was a weak one.
Ross concluded, “Basically, yeah, Dereck Caradoc’s a shady dude, and not one I’d ever get involved with, but there’s nothing financial pointing at him as the murderer.”
Aradia’s next step in identifying the killer was interviewing Kaiser. That was a harder task than she’d thought at first. His number was unlisted, he wasn’t enrolled at Salem High, and even Roy had proven thoroughly unhelpful when she’d asked him for help finding Kaiser.
“There are a lot of werewolves, Aradia,” he’d replied a bit antagonistically. “Just because we distantly share some genetics doesn’t mean we all hang out together on weekends.”
She was disheartened. Dig deeper, Rai, she reminded herself. That was how she wound up at the Salem Police Department on a Saturday afternoon holding an Edible Arrangement.
For all its fame, or infamy as it were, Salem was a small town, and its courthouse and police department were adjoined into a single structure. As such, Aradia had had ample exposure to the station in her punishment of tidying her father’s office and brewing his coffee. She hadn’t actually been into the police side of the building, though, since her experience with Roy and Scruffy.
“Knock, knock,” she said as she strolled through the front door.
“Who’s there?” Officer Ortega replied. He was visibly surprised when he saw who it was. “Ms. Preston. What brings you to our humble half of the building?”
“Well, Officer Ortega, I have been feeling a little guilty. You and your partner did me a favor driving me home that night, and not arresting me.” She lowered her voice for the last bit. Ortega winced, but other than that let the point pass. She held out the bouquet of fruit. “I just wanted to thank you guys.”
“Well, that’s really sweet of you. Honestly I’m not sure how appropriate it is for me to accept a gift from you, though, especially given who your father is.”
She’d anticipated that. From everything she’d seen, he was pretty by-the-book. “That’s okay,” she said. “I won’t give it to you.”
“Oh?”
“No. I would, however, like to make a charitable donation to the Salem Police Department in the amount of one Edible Arrangement.” She set the bundle down on his desk. “You and Goat Chin can eat as much or as little as you like.”
Ortega did his best to stifle his surprised guffaw, but all he ended up doing was snorting while he laughed.
“Well, thank you. On behalf of the station.”
“No problem,” she replied while she plopped herself down in the chair opposite him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, seeing concern on her face.
“Well, I have a friend. More of an acquaintance, really. I don’t know him that well, but he’s going through a tough time.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Ortega replied.
“I wouldn’t be, if I were you.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’d be sorry he’s going through some stuff. But I wouldn’t be sorry to hear it. You’re only hearing it because he has somebody who cares about him.”
He nodded. “Well said. I’m sorry he’s having a hard time, but I’m glad he has a friend looking out for him.”
“Acquaintance,” she corrected.
“Acquaintance, then. Is there, ah, anything I can do to help?”
“Well, since you ask,” she replied, “I could use some assistance. I need to get in touch with him. I need to talk to him. I just don’t really know where to find him. I found out he goes to SCCS, but he hasn’t been going to class. I don’t know where he lives. Basically, I can’t help him if I can’t find him.”
“I sympathize with your situation, Ms. Preston, but if you’re asking me to use my position to divulge personal information about another citizen, that would be highly inappropriate.”
“Not at all,” she replied.
“Oh,” Ortega replied, surprised. “What can I do for you, then?”
“I would like to know where drug deals go down. Hypothetically.”
“Pardon?”
“I’m leveling with you. I know you can’t give me his personal information. But you can give me generalities that apply to everyone. He’s wrapped up in some stuff. Gangs and drugs. That was easy to find out. The hard part is where I can find him.”
“I’m not sure I feel comfortable assisting in this,” he replied.
“Look, if I came here and lied to you and said I was doing a school project or writing an article for the Broomstick, you’d have told me what I’m looking for, right?”
He didn’t reply, but she suspected she knew the answer.
“Well, I was honest. Are you really going to punish me for honesty? Because that seems very un-policey.”
He sighed. “Look, I’m not going to direct you to a drug deal or anything like that. But during the day try the Willows.”
“The park?”
“The arcade is closed for the winter. Some of the more unsavory sorts frequent it during the winter months. It’s a convenient location, I suppose, out of the way. Just don’t go after dark.”
After seeing Roy’s dark side, I might follow that advice.
She nodded. “Thanks, Officer.”
“Don’t mention it. Oh, and let your folks know they can claim the donation as a deductible on their taxes.”
Aradia sat on an iridescent unicorn hobby horse at the Willows historic 1866 carousel, waiting. She’d been there well over an hour already, and hadn’t seen a soul. In between wondering whether Ortega had led her completely astray and what she would
say if Kaiser did turn up, she considered the bizarre string of fate which had led her there.
Before turning to Ortega in her Hail Mary attempt at information, Aradia had approached her father. He’d been distinctly unhelpful. “Aradia, I appreciate your gusto for solving this murder,” he’d said, “but even if I wanted to urge you on this path, I couldn’t. I don’t have anything on the Hitzigs beyond what you already know.”
He’d been a little deceptive when he’d said that. He had a phone number, which eventually she weaseled out of him. Neither Kaiser nor anyone else answered when she called it repeatedly, though.
Next she’d tried the second murder scene, also against her father’s wishes. He’d discouraged the idea, especially after her forty-eight hour cat nap. She made it clear she would go there and try her memory power with or without his accompaniment, though. He reasoned it was safer if he were there.
She hadn’t sensed a thing, though. She wasn’t surprised. It was a place of business, not a home. There was less familiar essence.
So she tried the next most reasonable option of which she could think, and ended up alone at a public park on a Sunday afternoon eating salt water taffy on a unicorn.
“Maybe I need to go back to the drawing board,” she muttered as she got off her steed to take a walk.
She had patrolled the area several times already. “One more look around, then I’m outta here.”
She was almost shocked when she found the werewolf in question. He was sitting on a bench on the pier smoking a cigarette, looking just as gloomy and angry and miserable as he had been the night he confronted Dax and Aradia. He had smelled her long before she noticed him, but didn’t particularly care. As she approached, she noticed his nose twitching like that of a hound on the scent of a rabbit. I swear, I will just never get used to the whole sniffing thing. I’m so glad I don’t do that.
He didn’t turn, but he scowled something fierce, and she hung back, afraid to approach him. After a while of this silent standoff, he just shrugged and asked, “What do you want?”
Aradia breathed deeply and summoned all the courage she could muster. Twisting his arm had been one thing. Getting him to open up emotionally would be quite another. She walked straight up to the werewolf.
“To find your father's murderer,” Aradia answered him bluntly.
“It's none of your business.”
“The police aren’t going to find him,” she said. “They’re thinking like… well, like humans. I might be able to, though.”
He didn’t respond.
“So by not helping me, you’re saying you’re okay with your father’s murderer walking around freely?”
She snatched the cigarette from his lips and threw it over the handrail to the waves below. “Look, Kaiser, I know you didn’t ask me to do this, but that doesn’t matter now. I’m going to find your father’s killer sooner or later whether you help me or not.”
“Then I guess you don’t need me so much.”
“I do need you,” she said. “I need you so we can find the murderer sooner rather than later. Sooner, before they kill again, before they put somebody else through what you’re going through now.”
He gave no response.
New angle, Rai.
“When this is all over,” she said, “and you’re looking back, how do you want the story to have played out? Do you want to remember how you helped avenge your dad, or how you sat by and did nothing while a stranger did what you should have been doing?”
“I…” he began. She saw tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
She lowered her voice and removed the confrontation from her tone. “You are going to help me, Kaiser. Do you understand?"
The werewolf was again struck dumb. But this time he nodded.
“Besides, I could always just beat the information I need out of you,” she said. “Wouldn’t be the first time I beat you up.”
He chuckled dryly. “Yeah. That didn’t look so good for me in front of the other guys. It gives them ideas, you know. About my leadership abilities.”
“I’m sure you’re a fine leader.”
“You took me by surprise. You wouldn’t get away with that again.”
“Sure I wouldn’t.”
He stood up and used his greater size to tower over her. He said, "You think you can take me?"
"How’s your shoulder feel?" Aradia snapped.
She fixed him with the most vicious and intimidating look she had, folding her arms across her chest, and looking at him straight in the eyes. At first he just looked amused. After a few seconds, though, he remembered where he was and why he knew this girl, and felt his knees buckle. He sat again on the bench and hunched.
“Okay. What do you want to know?” he asked Aradia, who replied with just a single word.
“Everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kaiser told her about his troubles with his dad. He also told her about his mother, his dad’s friends, his dad’s enemies, his dad’s problems, and his own problems.
“None of us ever really had much of a stable relationship. I didn't get along with either of my folks, even when they were together. I got into trouble almost every day.”
“What kind of trouble?”
He shrugged. “You know. Fighting, stealing, drugs. Stuff.”
“You deal, don’t you?”
“Yeah. What’s it to you?”
“I went through a hard time myself. Rebelled against my parents, started smoking weed. I hurt some people.”
“Yeah, well, you got through it fine and your parents were still alive on the other side.”
Back to the topic, Rai. Control the conversation.
“Do you think one of the people from your drug dealing was involved?” asked Aradia.
Kaiser shook his head and said, “I never sold anything serious or worth serious money. Mostly weed and shrooms to college kids. There wasn’t anybody serious enough to come after my ’rents.”
“Not that I am complaining or anything, in fact I applaud you for making the decision, but why didn't you deal serious drugs?” asked Aradia.
Kaiser shrugged, grumbling. “You need to know people. I was a retailer, so I’d have needed wholesalers. Besides, I didn’t want to go that route.”
“You’re using the past tense. You stopped dealing?” He nodded meekly. “Why?”
“I’d have probably stopped anyway, eventually. But my dad caught me.”
“Oh,” said Aradia, sounding out the word long and hard to emphasize her understanding. “And as a lawyer he was concerned how it would look?”
“No!” Kaiser replied emphatically, surprising Aradia with his emotion. “No, he never said anything like that. Damn it, I hated him sometimes, but he never once said anything like that. The last time I saw him we were yelling. I really let him down.”
She let him talk.
“One of the reasons I got booted from my mom's house and into staying with my dad was the drugs,” Kaiser explained. “The only reason. She had custody. She gave me up when she found out, though. She said I was just like my father.”
“Maybe she was right.”
“He cheated on her for years. Said he was working late. That’s how she got custody. I don’t want to be just like him.”
“Then maybe she was right in ways she didn’t mean.” At his raised eyebrow she went on, “You describe him as a guy with some troubles, but who always treated you well. I can’t defend him doing that to your mother, but maybe if you learn from both your mistakes, something can come of it.”
“Yeah,” he replied, pulling another cigarette. “Maybe.”
“My dad’s a lawyer, too,” she volunteered. “ADA.”
“Good for your dad.”
“What were you fighting about, the last time you saw your father?” Aradia asked.
“The gang,” said Kaiser.
“Hmm. He didn’t approve?”
“My dad and I lost our pack with the divorce. They sided
with my mom. He thought we’d be better off finding our own way.”
“You think one of them might have…”
He shook his head. “No. My guys are loyal, mostly. There’s a couple guys who are bruisers, Bane, Dope, Munchie, but if anybody wanted my spot, they’d come after me.”
“Another gang, then?”
He shook his head. “Look, we’re not like LA or New York wolf packs. There’s some petty crimes, but nothing hard. Mostly we just bully other hiddens, like you and your boyfriend that night.”
Aradia sighed and asked, “Was your father having any business problems?”
Kaiser shook his head. She wished he would shift his thinking to help her generate leads instead of merely shooting down anything she came up with. For all her bravado, establishing a motive would be nearly impossible without help.
“What about Stanley?”
“What about him?”
“Two murders in a town that normally has none, and all they have in common is the vampire MO and that the first vic was your dad’s client. It’s an obvious link.”
“Police thought so too,” Kaiser replied. “They didn’t find anything.”
“Because they didn’t know what to look for. They don’t know about werewolves.” Well, Scruffy does. I guess he just wasn’t too helpful in the investigation. Not surprising, he was such a jerk.
Kaiser sighed. “I’d met Stanley a couple times. The guy was a tool.”
Aradia couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?” he asked.
“The guy owned a hardware store,” she replied. At his blank expression, she spelled it out, saying, “You called him a tool.”
“Oh!” he said, realizing the irony.
He laughed, hard. “Yeah, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I know,” she said, smiling sincerely. Finally he’s warming up to me!
“Well, it’s still true. He was probably a good guy, you know. But he sweated a lot. He had no confidence. I can tell when I meet someone whether they’re a fighter or not. He wasn’t.”
“From what I’ve learned, he fought pretty hard to keep his store afloat.”
