by Kristin Cast
“We’ll leave him to bake until Pierce gets here. Let’s go up while I still feel like climbing stairs,” Schilling replied.
James led the way back down the hall and up the stairs. Smudged and bloody fingerprints peppered the iron bannister and the wall bordering the staircase. “There’s a lot more blood up here,” he said, glancing back at Schilling. “Watch where you put your feet.”
Schilling grumbled something undecipherable and continued to heft himself up each step.
James paused on the top stair. Monica’s well-manicured hand rested in a pool of blood. The stark contrast between the pale flesh and deep ruby brought goose bumps to James’s arms.
“You do know she’s not going to stand up and invite you on a tour of the second floor, right?” Schilling said.
James chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah.”
“Scootch.” Schilling squeezed past James and up the final stair. His face contorted as he scanned Monica’s body. “What a mess. You coming?”
James swallowed his trepidation and carefully rounded the puddle of blood, keeping his gaze focused on Schilling.
“Some seriously sick fuck did this one.” Schilling’s knees popped as he squatted next to the victim.
James kept his eyes up, noticing an ignored layer of dust resting on the blades of the ceiling fan.
“Putting it off isn’t going to make it look any less disgusting. We all have to see some bad shit, as I’m sure you know. Goes with the job.”
“Yeah.” James prepared himself for whatever condition her corpse was in. He flicked his gaze down to Monica’s body. “Jesus. I was not ready for that.”
Monica Carroll was unrecognizable. Her face looked like the sunken, gooey remains of a rotted pumpkin. Brain matter dappled the floor and wall next to her. James searched the meaty cavern for any human resemblance.
“I don’t think anyone could’ve been prepared for it.” Schilling shooed away a few flies circling the body. “Doesn’t even look like a person anymore. They’re going to have to apply some real science down at the ME’s office to get a positive ID on her.”
“How do you think this happened?” James averted his eyes and looked around the room for a possible murder weapon. Streams of dried blood coated the wall closest to Monica’s body and clumps of flesh clung to the paint. “I’m not seeing anything that could’ve been used to cause all this.”
“Maybe it’s not here. Whoever did this might have taken it with ’em,” Schilling said.
“You think this is the point of entry?” James walked to the French doors and looked out at the balcony. “Actually, scratch that.” He stepped through the large opening created by the broken glass and onto the deck. Glass popped under his feet, and he bent over, inspecting the shards littering the wood. “Schilling,” he called over his shoulder. “The broken door is definitely not how anyone got in.” James stood and looked over the guardrail. “I’d say it’s more how he got out.”
Eight
Schilling peered over the edge of the balcony, the ornate iron railing pressing into his gut. “That’s one way to get out of a bad situation.”
Tyson George’s towering, muscular body lay on the ground-level patio covered in a white sheet. His black tennis shoes poked out from the end of the blood-soaked cloth covering him; more blood spatters arched in a halo around the body.
James surveyed the scene. “So, he can’t protect his wife, and instead of also getting beat to a pulp, he smashes through the glass and jumps over the balcony?”
Schilling lifted his eyebrow and cocked his head to the side.
“I know, I know,” James sighed. “Jumping to conclusions. Rookie mistake.”
“Detective Graham!” Winslow stuck his head through the hole in the broken glass. “Pierce is here. She’s about to go outside with the other victim.”
“Thanks, Winslow. Tell her I’ll be down in a minute.” James lingered stiffly next to his partner before speaking. “We’re good, right?”
Schilling shrugged. “Depends. You coming over for dinner?”
“You got me on that one.” James shook his head and smiled. “Just tell me when, and I’ll be there.”
“Perfect. You come over, get my wife off my back about meeting you, and we can pretend like your prima donna hissy fit never happened.”
“I can deal with that,” James said, heading for the French doors.
“Wait a tick. There’s one more thing. I need to know what really went down out in those woods.” James opened his mouth to protest, but Schilling held up his hand. “We’ll just be going in circles if you try to deny it. Look, you don’t have to tell me now, but you do have to tell me. I’m your partner. We can’t have secrets between us. Not when it’s about the job. Now, go downstairs. I’ve got this covered up here. Let me know what you find out from Pierce.”
James pushed Schilling from his mind as he trotted down the stairs and through the house. If twisting the truth wasn’t going to work, he’d have to figure out what really happened, and fast.
Pierce met him at the back door and handed him a pair of blue gloves. “Here, you’re going to need these. ”
“Can’t be any worse than what’s upstairs.” He stretched the latex over his thick knuckles.
“I’d say we should bet on it, but I don’t want to take your money.” Pierce smiled and shook strands of her short, blonde bob from her eyes.
“Detective James!” Veronica’s dazzling smile flashed against the warm bronze of her skin.
“Veronica?” His cheeks warmed when her chest grazed his back as she squeezed passed him through the open door. “What are you doing here? I thought you only worked in the office.”
“I am here to assist doctor Pierce.” Like a proud student, she held up the iPad and stylus she held nestled under her arm. “Kirby is on vacation, so I finally had the chance to leave that boring oficina. Don’t look so surprised. I take night classes to one day be a talented dead body doctor like Catherine. But no one told me I had to wear flat shoes. They are hideous.” Her lip curled as she looked down at her feet in disgust.
“You look great. I mean, your shoes look great.” James was sure his cheeks revealed everything, and he fidgeted awkwardly with the tight gloves. “I am a little shocked that you’re getting your degree to be a medical examiner. I thought you hated Pierce’s job. You call her the crypt keeper.”
“Ay!” she shouted, smacking him on the forehead with the stylus. “Why do you say that in front of her?”
James rubbed his forehead. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Just like a man, not to think. But I forgive you.” She smiled a sultry half smile and bit the end of the stylus.
James’s lips parted, and his mouth hung open slightly as he watched her tongue trace the end of the pen.
“Hey, Vee.” Pierce’s voice made him jump. “Will you run back out to the car and grab that case I put in the back? I’ll need it set up upstairs.”
“This job is nothing but running here and running there in ugly flat shoes and this bag outfit. I should have gone into cutting hairs like mis hermanas,” Veronica grumbled as she disappeared into the house.
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was an episode of The Bachelor and not an active crime scene. Especially not one where a victim’s face had practically exploded. Now, do you want to take a look at the vic or should I get the old man to come down instead?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. You really mean exploded? As in, from the inside out?”
Pierce nodded. “Come take a look.” She lifted the cloth covering Tyson’s body and folded it down over his chest.
James gritted his teeth. “It is worse than upstairs.”
“Told you it would be. We should’ve made that bet.”
Pulp bloomed from Tyson’s face. His jaw hung loose and rested on the ground next to his ear. And his eyes…. James looked toward the bloodstained house, not wanting the bulging, red-veined orbs to put down roots in his
memory.
“Blood must have shot up pretty high for there to be such a large spray radius around the body,” James said, taking in the expanse of crimson surrounding the corpse. “Could the fall have done that?”
“Not likely. I’d say it was whatever caused the detached mandible. I’m going to head upstairs and take a look at the female. I’ll have more information for you once we get them transported back to the lab, and I can get him cleaned up and run some tests. Looking at this kind of stuff, it’s rough. Take care of yourself while you figure this one out.” She smiled gently and walked back into the house.
James ambled to the edge of the large patio and looked around while he slipped off his gloves, thankful he hadn’t had to use them. Several small cameras glared at him from the yard next door. He stuffed the blue gloves into his pocket and walked to the tall privacy fence.
“Can I help you?” a delicate, shaky voice asked.
“Yes, hi, I’m Detective Graham,” he introduced himself as he peered over the top of the stained wood. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but where are you?”
“Down here.” A petite, sun-spotted hand entered James’s view, and he pushed himself up on his tiptoes for a better vantage point. “Hang on a second. I have a step stool inside.” The back door slid open and closed again, and James resumed studying the cameras set up in the yard.
Each slim, black camera was attached to a tall pole and placed in a random part of the yard. In total, James counted six cameras, and one of them pointed straight toward the crime scene.
The door opened again and the shaky voice returned. “It takes me awhile sometimes, but I eventually get to where I’m trying to go.” Something heavy plopped on the ground, and her perfectly coiffed white hair popped into view. “That’s better. It’s lovely to meet you, Detective Graham. Although I’m sure sorry about the circumstances.”
“You know about what happened over here?”
“Only what’s been going around the neighborhood. That Tyson and Monica were found dead by that vulture Robyn Jenkins.” Her crepe-paper eyelids sagged as she spoke.
“It doesn’t sound like you’re one of Ms. Jenkins’s top supporters,” James said.
“Well, I’m not saying not to believe what she says, but don’t believe her if you want to keep hold of your money. That woman will rattle off any bunch of nonsense if she thinks it’ll get you to write a check. She and Monica were the same in that regard,” she said matter-of-factly.
“How well did you know Mrs. Carroll?” James asked.
“I was cordial to her, but I’d have to say that was about it. We hadn’t really spoken ever since Tyson helped me install my video recorders.” She motioned over her shoulder to one of the many cameras.
“And why is that?” James asked.
“She claimed they pointed straight at her backyard. In truth, only one gets it in the picture, but it wasn’t set up that way intentionally. Her husband put them in, for crying out loud. But trying to convince Monica they weren’t directed at her was pointless. She even had Tyson put up this eyesore of a fence. Then she went so far as to send a letter to the homeowner’s association about my cameras. Said I was spying on her. Like I would want to watch any of their funny business,” she huffed.
“What exactly are the cameras for? Your personal protection?”
“Heavens, no. If anyone wants to steal my things, they’re welcome to them. I have the cameras so I can monitor the migration of my jays. Although I mostly pick up fat, ornery squirrels.” She let out a short, deliberate puff of air before continuing. “Everything the recorders see is immediately sent over to the computer. I tried showing the videos to Monica to prove it wasn’t about her, but she wasn’t interested.”
“Ma’am, do you mind if I come over and take a look at the footage?”
“Not at all. I’ll put on some coffee and meet you at the front door. You might want to give me a minute, though.”
“Of course. Take your time.” James slipped out of the backyard through the open gate, and walked through the soft grass to the neighbor’s driveway. He lingered on the porch for a few minutes.
“I’ll be right there, Detective!” the small voice called from inside.
A strong floral odor rushed to greet him as she opened the door. James followed her slow, shuffling steps further into the house. His eyes watered from the biting perfume in the air, and he stifled a sneeze. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I didn’t catch your name.”
“Oh, silly me.” She laughed and opened beautiful etched-glass doors that led into a bright, cheery sunroom. “It’s these blood pressure pills they’ve got me on. They make me all kinds of forgetful. Name’s Phyllis Ladd.” She turned and offered him her hand. “You are quite handsome when you’re not being shielded by a fence.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Ladd.” He gently shook her withered hand. “I’m sure your camera footage will assist with our investigation.”
“Anything I can do to help. Monica may have been a handful, but that Tyson…. He was a gentleman.” She ushered him into the enclosed porch and toward the computer station in the corner of the room. “I wasn’t sure where to put this monstrosity. I’m not one who keeps up with technology and such things. Just bring me my paper and a good Regency romance, and I’m happy as a clam.” Her smile revealed straight, pearly teeth too young to match her weathered face.
James pulled out the dining room chair stuffed under the small desk, and jiggled the mouse. The dark computer screen slowly faded, and the desktop image took its place. Six blue folders, labeled Camera One to Camera Six, rested in a column on the screen. “Do you know which camera is facing your neighbor’s backyard?”
“That would be camera six. It was the last one Tyson installed.”
James opened the folder and hundreds of video files popped up on screen.
“There’s no need to worry, Detective. Everything caught on yesterday’s reel will be in the first one of those movie buttons.”
He hovered the pointer over the first file before clicking on it. “This one?”
She nodded. “And the cameras are motion activated, and go to sleep once the sun sets. Those are the only two things I asked Tyson to make sure of. I don’t want to spend the rest of the short time I have left on this earth sorting videos of my birds from those of grass growing or hours of nothing but night sky.”
James clicked on the file, but hesitated before pressing play. “Ma’am, this video may contain some disturbing images of the crime.”
She held her wrinkled hands up in front of her chest. “Say no more, Detective. I’ll make my way into the kitchen and fix that coffee I promised. Cream and sugar?”
“Both. Thank you.”
He waited until she’d left, then pressed play. The camera’s position was perfect, with a clear view of Monica’s back patio. Minutes went by, and several small birds floated in and out of view before James hit fast forward. Birds flapped their wings wildly, and squirrels twitched rapidly. Shadows stretched as the sun began to fade, and James released the button. A fat blue jay sat on the fence, ruffling his feathers and blinking sleepily in the setting sun.
“This is a complete bust,” he muttered, stretching his arms overhead.
Just then, a flailing figure came crashing into the picture. The blue jay sprang from the fence, leaving James with an unobstructed view of Tyson’s corpse. James leaned forward, inches from the computer screen. Tyson’s body lay still for several moments, and then it began shaking violently. James cringed as he watched it flop around on the stone before quieting again. Suddenly, Tyson’s chest surged up, but his hips and head stayed pinned to the ground. A geyser of red exploded from his mouth and rained down around his body. Then his head lolled to the side. His jaw rested on the ground, inches away from its intended location.
“What the fuck was that?” James whispered. His mouth remained open as his eyes locked on the pulsing scarlet cloud hovering above the dead man. “It has to be some kind of shadow. It can’t be—” the cloud rippl
ed over Tyson’s carcass, swirling from his head to his toes—“alive?”
“It may not be that Starbucks your generation is so fond of, but it is freshly ground.”
James jerked so violently he nearly toppled over backwards.
“Oh, I startled you there, didn’t I?” She carefully set the tray on the petite coffee table in the center of the room. “You must have found something worth your while then.”
He pulled up the Internet browser and quickly typed in the information for his private e-mail account. The page loaded, and he logged in and attached the video to an e-mail to himself. “Actually, the file was corrupted.” He moved the video to the computer’s trash bin, and emptied it before standing. “I spent my time trying to figure out how to recover it, but no luck.”
She shakily handed him a hot mug. “Well, isn’t that a shame.”
“Yeah, uh, you didn’t hear anything coming from next door anytime yesterday evening, did you?” He took a sip of the creamy, overly sweetened mixture before setting the cup back on the tray.
“Well, let’s see.” She paused and studied the ceiling as she gathered her thoughts. “Yesterday Howard and I were out all afternoon and evening. Howard is my Bichon, though he’s really more like a son. He’s out with the dog walker now. A lovely little girl who lives a few streets over. But where was I? Oh, yes, we went to the groomer, then out to lunch with my daughter. She comes by a few times a week to pick us up. I can drive just fine, but she won’t hear of it. And then we went to—”
“I’m so sorry to cut you off there, Mrs. Ladd, but I really have to get back over to the scene.”
“Of course. I don’t know where my head’s at today. You have a big important job, what with finding out who’s behind the tragedy next door.” She led him back out into the foyer and opened the front door. “I hope you do catch him quickly. It will really help me to sleep better.”
“It’s all very routine,” James lied. “My partner and I will get it handled quickly. No need to worry. Thank you for the coffee and everything, ma’am.” He stepped off the porch and immediately downloaded the attachment from his e-mail. “First Eva, and now some killer blood cloud. This circus shit is not what I signed up for.”
