Joyce & Jim Lavene - Taxi for the Dead 02 - Dead Girl Blues

by Joyce Lavene

“You’re so kind.” She smiled at him and smoothed a hand down his face. “But I have to get home.”

  Brandon still didn’t move away from her—until Abe stared hard at him.

  “Did you find anything unusual in Ash’s belongings?” Abe asked me.

  “I don’t know. There were a lot of clothes, some jewelry, and a few knick-knacks. The super said the condo came furnished. He watched us the whole time to make sure we weren’t taking anything that didn’t belong to Mr. Benton.”

  “Perhaps that is an issue we should look into.” Abe snapped his fingers and dispatched Morris and another man with the tattoo of a tiger on his face. “Talk to the superintendent. See if he knows something.”

  When we were alone, I questioned him. Abe was scary, but I tried not to back down from him on important issues. “What caused this? What am I looking for?”

  “Magic, of course. Whoever killed my magic user did it for this purpose. Harold’s death left me vulnerable to attack.” He eased himself into his old chair behind the desk. “My own magic must be guarded by other kinds of magic, such as the type Lucas wields so casually. Without it, all my people will perish and me along with them.”

  “I can ask Lucas again if he’ll work for you.”

  “No need. I have an interview with another magic user. Continue searching for Harold’s killer. That’s where we’ll find our answers.”

  Was it me, or did he seem smaller than before? He was weaker, by his own admission. It was terrifying to think that my life and Kate’s hung in the balance again. I had no choice but to follow the path I had been set on and hope Abe would be able to maintain his people.

  I left his office. The tattoo shop was strangely quiet and empty. Where was everyone?

  Debbie was waiting outside as she usually did. She couldn’t take the rude remarks from the men who hung around.

  “What did he say? Is he okay?” she asked.

  “I guess he’s okay for right now. We have to find whoever killed Harold.” I started walking down the sidewalk. “Let’s hit the smoke shop and see if we can find out what kind of cigarettes this butt belongs to.”

  “Okay, although I have to get home soon.”

  “Debbie, if Abe disappears like Mr. Benton or dies, so do I. So does Terry. I don’t think I can do anything about finding him another magic user, but I can find Harold’s killer.”

  “Lucas cares about you. Tell him he has to protect Abe. He’ll do it if you tell him to.”

  “I’m not his master. I’m not going to tell him to do something he clearly doesn’t want to do. Besides, Abe has someone else in mind.”

  The smoke shop was only a couple blocks up from Deadly Ink and Simon’s Mortuary. I thought about stopping and talking to Brandon, but that usually wasted more time than his information was worth.

  It was hot and humid on the street. Heat lightning flashed across the dark sky, but it was just a tease. There was no rain in the forecast again, and people were getting worried. The Cumberland River was wide and deep, feeding the water Nashville and the surrounding areas needed to grow, but it wasn’t infinite. There was also the threat of fires in the mountains where the woods were tinder dry.

  The smells of fried food seemed anchored around us by the lack of rain or even the scarcest breeze. People were sitting out on the curb in plastic chairs, smoking and drinking cold beer. The local drug dealers looked at us and then looked away. They knew who we worked for.

  The lights were still on in the smoke shop when we got there, and the open sign was flashing. I took the butts with the gold wrappers from my pocket as we went inside. We were alone with the man behind the counter.

  “Good evening.” He nodded to us. “How may I assist you?”

  I’d seen him at the coffee shop that was close to the mortuary. He was an older Indian man with a red caste mark on his forehead. He always wore the same blue turban.

  “I’m looking for the cigarette that goes with this butt.” I put it on the glass counter. Hookahs and rolling papers were inside it. “It seems distinctive to me.”

  He smiled and glanced carefully at the gold wrapped butt. Then he opened the plastic bag it was inside and smelled it. “Oh yes. I know this brand. We sell it here. Would you like a pack?”

  “No,” Debbie said. “Those things are nasty.”

  “Yes, please,” I contradicted her. “We’d like a pack.”

  It was a foreign brand, made in Egypt according to the label. I paid him the exorbitant price for it and then put it in my pocket.

  “Do a lot of people buy these? They seem unusual.”

  He shrugged his thin shoulders beneath his white shirt. “Not so many, but enough for me to carry them.”

  “We’re looking for a man.” I thought about the image Lucas had raised in the palm of his hand. It was hard to say exactly what he looked like. “Maybe medium height and build.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “Are you a cop?”

  “No. I work at Deadly Ink.”

  A look of fear swept over him, and he trembled as he breathed. “Abe.”

  “That’s right.” I’d take fear if that helped us.

  “Only one man this week was here to buy these.” He pointed to the cigarettes. “He was taller than me and didn’t say anything. He bought the cigarettes and left. That’s all I know.”

  “Do you have surveillance?” When he looked blank, I pointed to the camera in the corner. “Video of the shop.”

  “Oh no.” He smiled happily about it. “Too expensive. That is a fake I put in myself to fool the robbers.”

  “Anything else you can tell us about this man?” Debbie demanded.

  The man behind the counter glanced away as he tried to think of something else. His face brightened when he said, “He had a tattoo and several piercings. He wasn’t old but not young either. He was fair. I don’t recall his eyes. He smiled and thanked me when I gave him the cigarettes. I’m afraid that’s all.”

  “Thanks for nothing.” Debbie started toward the door. “That could be one of a hundred men who hang out at Deadly Ink. Let’s go, Skye.”

  “Just a minute.” I turned to the man behind the counter. “What kind of tattoo? Where was it?”

  “He had a tattoo on his arm of a mystical beast—perhaps a dragon of some sort. And another on the back of his neck. I noticed when he turned to leave. It was a sideways figure eight. I believe they call that the sign of eternity.”

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  Debbie and I walked out of the smoke shop. We were both sweating since there was no air conditioning in the shop. The proprietor was completely cool or at least appeared that way. Not even perspiration on his brow.

  “So one of dozens of men who look the same bought the cigarettes and may have been smoking them in the alley before, during, or after Harold was killed.” Debbie summed up what we’d found so far in a critical voice.

  “I’ve solved cases, or seen them solved, with less information.”

  She yawned. “Is that it? Do we have to go anywhere else?”

  “No. We can go home.”

  Debbie glanced at her watch. “Oh my God, It’s almost eight-thirty. We have to hurry.”

  We got in the van, and I glanced at her. “What’s the big deal? Terry might be handicapped, but there’s still an adult at the house. And Bowman isn’t a little kid anymore.”

  “You don’t understand.” She tapped her fingers nervously on the door handle. “I have to be there for Terry. It was okay last night because the kids were out. They can’t be there after nine with him by themselves.”

  Traffic was getting thin going out of the city. I passed a few cars trying to accommodate Debbie’s timetable. I could tell from her voice that this wasn’t just a random request to get home in time to read a bedtime story.

  “What’s really happening?” I asked her.

  “Terry has started freaking out at nine p.m. each night. I can’t explain it. I don’t even like to think about it, but I don’t want the kids to be ther
e by themselves when it happens. It’s scary for me, and I’m an adult. Besides, Bowman has changed so much toward his father. I don’t know what he’ll do if…”

  I didn’t understand, but I assumed it had something to do with the changes Terry was going through. “I’ll do the best I can. We might make it. It should be close anyway.”

  We were only a few minutes from Debbie’s house when we passed the leaving Nashville sign. Debbie was almost bouncing off the sides of the van. She glanced at her watch every two minutes. When it was nine, she tensed up and let out a short expletive.

  “Can’t we go any faster? If you’re worried about a ticket, I’ll pay it. Please, Skye, we have to get to the house.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were so worried about leaving the kids with Terry? Maybe we could find someone to take care of them if you have to be out late.”

  “Like a ghostly mother-in-law or an amnesiac sorcerer?” Her laugh was brittle. “Like I’d leave my kids with Addie or Lucas. If you want to do that with Kate, that’s up to you.”

  Her words put my teeth on edge, but I knew she was upset. I paid attention to the road and getting us to her house safely.

  “I’m sorry, Skye. You know I didn’t mean it. I’d give anything to have someone responsible like Addie, even if she is a ghost. Things in my life are so far out of control. It’s hard to hold it in all the time.” She glanced out the window. “I’m thinking about taking Bowman and Raina to stay with their grandparents for a while. I’ve put it off because they’d have to change schools. I was hoping to finish up the year and let them spend time with my parents. Maybe things will be better by the end of the summer.”

  “Is this because Terry changes every night?” I knew for Debbie even thinking about taking her kids somewhere else was a move of desperation.

  “It’s what he’s changing into. I…I can’t explain it. The kids have already seen too much. I don’t want them to hate their father. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “You’re afraid Terry will hurt one of them?”

  “No.” Her voice was painful. “I’m terrified that Bowman will kill his father.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  We pulled into the driveway. I took the turn a little too fast and gravel spit out from under the tires. There were no lights on at the house. I didn’t like it. Someone always left the porch light on for her.

  “That’s fine. Thanks, Skye. I can handle it from here. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Her smile in the light from the dash was strained and she was crying.

  I parked the van and shut off the engine. “I’m not leaving until I know everything is okay.”

  Debbie was already out the door and running toward the house. I grabbed the tranq gun and my Beretta before I followed her.

  We didn’t make it into the pretty log cabin before we both heard screams from the area around the garage to the right side of the cabin. It sounded too high-pitched to come from a man—it was one of the children.

  Debbie screamed too and ran toward the garage. I followed her, keeping a close watch around us. I didn’t know what Terry had changed into either, and I didn’t want to find out as he was ripping at my throat.

  In the dim, overhead light next to the garage, I caught a glimpse of something fast that moved along the side wall and disappeared behind the building.

  “He’s behind the garage,” I yelled to Debbie as I tossed the tranq gun to her. “Use it if you need to. Don’t let something happen that can’t be made right.”

  She nodded and stuffed it into the pocket of her shorts but kept running.

  We heard someone call out again, the voice echoing in the darkness. It was difficult to tell which direction it was coming from. We ran behind the garage, but no one was there. Shadows concealed the back of the garage structure. The light was adjusted to illuminate the front entrance.

  There was a large meadow that swept up a hill from Debbie’s property. I caught a glimpse of someone running that way and pointed it out to my partner.

  “It’s Terry.” Her breath came hard and fast. “He’s got Bowman.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “Whatever we have to do to get him back.” There was no doubt in her tone. If she’d had to kill Terry at that moment to rescue her son, she would’ve done it.

  I nodded and took out my gun. We kept running after them.

  It was difficult to track them. The clouds kept even starlight from showing us their passage through the tall weeds and grasses. There was no moon and no other streetlights along the road at that point. We had to rely on Bowman calling for help to continue following them.

  We finally reached a ridge on the hill. Lights from a dairy farm that lay on the other side of the sharp ridge helped us see Terry and his son. They stood out as Bowman struggled to get free from his father.

  “I’ll come around from the other side,” I said to Debbie. I was a faster runner with my long legs and lack of bosom. It would also give her time to see if she could handle the situation without force. It was possible she could still talk the pair out of their disagreement.

  “Be careful,” Debbie pleaded. “Don’t hurt Bowman.”

  I ran along the side of the ridge where I still had the cover of clouds and darkness. Debbie ran straight to the spot where her loved ones were struggling. I hoped seeing her would be enough to calm Terry and end his rampage.

  “Why are you here?” the voice was almost a growl—virtually non-human. “Go home. I am taking care of the problem.”

  That had to be Terry, but it sounded nothing like him. I could see his silhouette in the light behind him. He looked as much like an animal as he sounded.

  “Give me Bowman,” Debbie implored. “You can run free all night if you want to. Just give me our son.”

  I sneaked closer to the spot where they were talking.

  “Mom! Help me. He wants to kill me.” That was Bowman, still high-pitched and filled with terror.

  “Let me have him, Terry.” Debbie had started crying. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  Terry roared. “He attacked me. He deserves what he gets.”

  “He tried to kill Raina.” Bowman defended himself. “I hit him with my baseball bat.”

  “Not a wise decision.” Terry shook his son as though he were a rag doll.

  Why had Debbie thought Bowman would be the aggressor? She knew Terry was going through these changes. Why had she been so certain he wouldn’t hurt their kids?

  The answer was obvious—she was afraid all the time that this would happen. She’d hoped things would be all right, but this was why she was so worried about getting home late every day.

  “Put him down, Terry.” Debbie was still crying, but her voice was steady as she pointed the tranq gun at him. “I don’t want to do this, but I will.”

  I was close enough to get off a shot that would hit him if it came down to it. Terry seemed so engrossed with Debbie and Bowman that he hadn’t noticed me. I held the Beretta steady on him and waited to see what happened.

  Terry picked Bowman up and slung him across his back like a sack of grain. What he’d lost in height from his transformation, he’d gained in strength. His body was completely covered in stiff, thick hair. His legs were bowed like a goat’s, ending in large hooves. He’d grown horns on his head that curved slightly, and when I saw his face, I had to catch my breath.

  He looked far more like an animal than a human. The change had taken him over.

  Debbie didn’t wait another instant for him to run with her son. She fired the dart from the tranq gun that we used to subdue runaway zombies. Usually one did the job.

  It had no visible effect on Terry.

  She fired again and again. I could see the darts sticking out of his back, but they didn’t stop him.

  Before Terry could make it any further from us down the hill toward the farm, I aimed the Beretta at him and fired low, catching him in the leg.

  He dropped to the grassy hill, moaning and swearing. He and B
owman rolled over and over like a pair of young children having fun. Debbie screamed when she heard me fire and started after them.

  Judging the position she was going to be in when they got to the bottom of the hill, I ran back for the van and pressed hard on the gas pedal to be there when she needed me.

  I thought about checking on Raina—she could be hurt and alone in the house. But I judged that Debbie was going to need me more. I rounded the curve in the road that led to the farm and drove quickly down the gravel road.

  Debbie was on the ground with Bowman and Terry. She was hugging her son and sobbing. I got out of the van and, hoped no one had seen what had gone on.

  “We should get him in the van,” I said. “Whoever lives here could wonder what’s happening.”

  Debbie pushed to her feet, furious as she charged at me. “You shot him. I can’t believe you shot my husband.”

  She punched at me a few times, but I fended her off.

  “He was leaving with Bowman. What else could I do? You said whatever it took. At least I only winged him.”

  “No, Mom.” Bowman got to his feet and wrapped his arms around his mother. “He would’ve killed me. Thanks, Skye.”

  Debbie collapsed against her son. “Why is this happening? I don’t understand.”

  I didn’t encourage her to ruminate on the problem. “I don’t either, but we aren’t going to get any answers standing out here, and the farmer might call the police. We have to get Terry in the van and get out of here.”

  Bowman nodded and helped his mother into the front seat. He came back and stared at his father who was writhing and howling on the ground. “I wish you’d killed him,” he said. “Look at him. He wanted to tear Raina apart tonight. I could see it in his eyes. Did Mom tell you that he dragged her down the stairs two nights ago? I tried to kill him then, but he’s too strong.”

  “I know this is hard.” I put my hand on his shoulder and stared into his angry face. “But this is all we can do right now. Grab his legs and help me get him in the van. Don’t think about anything else. Let’s just get this done.”

  He nodded and squared his narrow shoulders. I got up under Terry’s head and neck, but he swiped at me. His long claws caught my arm and the side of my face.