Fireflies: A Katie Bell Mystery (book 1)

by BG Archer

  Luke.

  It was too much, and Katie knew it had to be over. It was time to rip the Band-Aid off.

  There were too many distractions around her, and she didn’t want to feel like being tempted by the new sweets on the table was actually a bad thing. It wasn’t like she was ever going to marry Luke.

  It was just….

  He was her first. Not just at sex but … a lot of things. Katie had loved him, and they had been together for so long it was just familiar. But he was not there with her and … there was the very cute guy that sat behind her in psychology, with brown hair and deep brown eyes, and there was the Greek god and … Katie shivered.

  She wasn’t afraid to admit she was attracted to Tiffany. She was surprised how much she had written about it in her journal. It was probably a bad idea to mess around with her own roommate, but there was something there … something warm and comfortable and familiar with Tiffany.

  Katie took another drag on her American Spirit and exhaled. The cigarette helped. It was her first one that week. The Weeknd and Drake kept her company, a song filled with melancholy and loss and regret and hope, which basically perfectly encapsulate how Katie felt.

  The song was cut off as Luke started calling. Katie dropped the half smoked cigarette on the sidewalk and stamped it out with the heel of her Tom’s, and answered.

  “Hey,” she said, feeling a lump in her throat.

  “Hi,” he said.

  Luke knew even just from the tone in her voice. The following conversation was more a formality, two players agreeing to play out the final moves of a chess game out of courtesy rather than out of need. Katie ended it saying simply she needed a break, and Luke agreed wearily.

  When Katie hung up she bent down and picked up the cigarette butt before heading back towards Everwood, The Weeknd and Drake consoled her.

  Pulling off Band-Aids was sometime necessary, but it didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt like hell.

  12

  3:19PM Tuesday, Sept 25th

  Arthur Bell tapped the touch screen on the giant display in the conference room and brought up a grainy photo. Behind him at the table the entire department was present, ten agents in total including Agent Tapscott and Agent Fields. At the other end of the long table Margaret Ruben sat, her arms folded across her chest.

  The picture on the giant monitor shimmered for a second and then became mostly clear. Arthur moved to the side and pointed at the display. The picture showed William Seaborn, getting out of a black Chevy Malibu.

  “That photo was taken of Seaborn an hour after Maria Rivas, aka Charity, was murdered. He and this unknown associate were picked up on three different street cameras in the Malibu heading in a trajectory away from the parking garage where Miss Rivas was killed. Seaborn parked the Malibu, and went into the subway. We lost him on cameras right after that. Normally this is just something my division would take care of, but due to the nature of this case I’m asking everyone to start looking for him. Emails of the photo are in all your inboxes. I want us to catch Seaborn as fast as possible.”

  Arthur nodded at Ruben and took his seat. She cleared her throat and stood up.

  “Now we all know how little Agent Bell likes to ask for help, so let’s oblige him. Remember, Seaborn is the jackass that thinks he can just copy one of the worst criminals we in this department have ever had the pleasure of taking down. We’re not about to let him just start up where his mentor left off. Now, switching gears, Agent Pilsner has a few friends he’d like to introduce us to on the more traditional major crimes side of things. Agent Pilsner?”

  Agent Pilsner, who was one person to Arthur’s right, stood up. Pilsner was a short man with thinning hair and was the same age as Arthur but looked about ten years older. There were heavy lines on his face from stress and seeing things people simply should not, but he moved with a quiet and self-assured grace that was befitting a long career with the FBI.

  He moved the display and tapped it, bringing up mug shots of five individuals. They were all male, all white, and all nasty looking.

  “There’s a new crew on the scene. We know these four are all in it, but the man at the bottom, Corey Cox, we’re just guessing is involved. They started up North with our friends in Vancouver, but as of last month they’ve moved south of the border and are now in our neck of the woods. They’ve hit two banks that we know of, both in Seattle, but we have reasonable intelligence that they are now here in our fair city.”

  Arthur tuned his peer out, and instead focused on the grainy photo of William Seaborn. He looked nervous getting out of the Malibu. Maybe he was reading into it, but Seaborn did not have the body posture of a man that had just gotten away with his second successful kill. Arthur felt eyes on him and glanced up. Ruben was looking at him, and simply raised an eyebrow.

  “This is a bad idea, Agent Bell, and you know it.”

  “I don’t really see another way around it,” he said.

  They had moved to Ruben’s office after the meeting. Arthur had closed the door behind them.

  “I am hesitant about having you anywhere close to that man.”

  “Ruben, you know if I didn’t think it was absolutely necessary I wouldn’t go. The thing is though, it is necessary.”

  “Why don’t you send one of them instead?”

  “Because neither of them are suited to deal with him.”

  Ruben leaned against her desk. “Arthur…”

  “You want me to stop this guy? I need this to stop him.”

  “No. I think you want it.”

  Arthur looked away for a second. “With me isn’t it kind of the same thing?”

  His former partner sighed. “Fine. But you’re taking both of your kids with you.”

  “Agent Ruben…”

  She held up her hand. “That’s an order, Agent Stubborn.”

  “So are you now running field trips, Arthur?” Martin Snow asked, staring at the three similarly clad FBI agents standing in front of him in his cell.

  “Just showing a few of my peers some of the ropes, Snow. You know how it is having to teach. Students take time. They can be awful sloppy at the beginning.”

  Martin smiled and took a step towards the glass. “You always liked insinuating things. I however, despite being a relatively well-educated man, am ignorant of whatever you’re trying to imply. After all, I don’t really get much news in here, minus the times on Sundays.”

  “Somebody has been killing girls on your anniversaries, Martin. Doesn’t that bother you? Even if it’s a fan boy? Trying to paint over your past works with acts of their own,” Fields said, taking a step forward towards the glass.

  “Agent,” Arthur snapped.

  Snow looked away from Arthur and glanced at the female agent. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Agent?”

  “Fields. Now answer the question.”

  “Fields. A fitting name for a black agent. First to graduate college from your family? Was your mommy and daddy so proud? But you went into law enforcement, was that a conflict? After all in your line of work you must be cracking the skulls of a fair amount of your brother’s and sisters.”

  Snow asked Fields these questions and kept a completely straight face. Fields, to her credit, displayed no emotion at the comments. She did take a step back from the glass.

  “My dad graduated from Oxford, actually, you racist piece of shit.”

  Agent Tapscott took a step towards the glass and his hands were bawled up. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, and Tapscott glanced at his boss, and then took a visibly deep breath.

  Martin Snow looked back and forth between Fields and Arthur and started to smile. “It must be so lonely for you now,Arthur. Your daughter off in college, and your little pets don’t even listen to you properly. You really should relax some. It’s the only way to make new friends.”

  Arthur moved forward, close to the glass divider as Snow was on the other side. “Is that what you have out here, Martin? Friends?”

&
nbsp; “Maybe. But I wouldn’t know what they’ve been up to, aside from knowing we have similar interests. And as for answering your question, Agent Fields, sometimes an artist needs to copy one of the greats over and over again to find their own voice. It’s a sign of respect, and certainly not something to be jealous of.”

  “That’s all well and good, Martin, but what about him needing help? Are you comfortable with that?”

  Snow held up his hands. “Sometimes my friends need other friends, since I’m not available to be there for them. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “You never needed help. You saying that you’re better than they are?”

  Snow moved even closer to the glass, so his breath fogged on his side of it, obscuring half his face, making him look a bit like an abstract painting.

  “Who’s to say I didn’t have help? Besides, Arthur, is that what you think of me? As better than my friends? It’s sweet you hold me in such high regard. I certainly do of you.”

  “Okay, we’re done here,” Arthur said and turned away from Snow’s cell.

  “Bye, Arthur. It was nice to meet you, Agent Fields. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you all again real soon.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” Tapscott said before following after his boss.

  Fields hurried after them, even as Martin started to hum to himself.

  They were through the first hallway with the door securely shut behind them before Arthur turned to his two agents. “Nice work, both of you.”

  “But we didn’t learn a damned thing,” Fields said.

  Tapscott shook his head. “You weren’t listening. Sure we did.”

  “Okay, Agent, impress me.”

  “Snow hasn’t been in communication with Seaborn, at least not currently. He didn’t know about his friend either. Which means this isn’t a cult, this is one loner that has been taken under Snow’s wing.”

  Arthur gave him a thumbs up. “What was he humming at the end when we were leaving?”

  Tapscott shrugged. “Just some random tune. It almost sounded like a nursery rhyme. You think it means anything? And what about the crack about him having friends?”

  “He was just trying to rattle us, and I doubt it.”

  “Fine, but that still doesn’t give us any leads on who Seaborn is working with.”

  The senior FBI agent grinned. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

  13

  8:41 PM Saturday, September 29th

  Katie looked at herself in the mirror and nodded in approval. Skinny jean's and her new red school sweater. It was casual, but she liked it, if she was going to the party with “arrogant boy,” she at least was going to look the part of someone who didn't give a crap.

  Tiffany entered the dorm having just showered still wearing only her towel and took one look at Katie and shook her head.

  "No, honey, I'm sorry but you are not wearing that there."

  "What do you mean? It’s cute."

  "Uh-huh. Do you have a picture of this guy?"

  "No. I’ve just seen him when I’ve been at the track.”

  "I believe you. Let's find him on Facebook."

  Katie hesitated. "Maybe later."

  Tiffany laughed. "Oh, you're nervous, then that outfit is definitely not right."

  "So what do you suggest?"

  The blonde grinned. "I've got a few ideas."

  An hour and four outfit changes later, Katie arrived at the house. She had invited Tiffany, but she had passed. She was going to hang out with her stoner friends, but looked forward to hearing how it all went.

  Katie arrived at a little after ten and the house was completely hopping. The house was huge and old. Everything in the interior was a nice deep dark red wood (Katie suspected quite a bit of cherry,) and as she wandered through the living room, she bumped into a half a dozen partygoers she vaguely recognized. Katie made her way into the kitchen. There was a keg with a couple of the frat boys happily offering everyone drinks and she excepted, taking a cup of the beer and sipping it.

  On the few times she had sampled beer in the past it had never been Katie's favorite and tonight nothing had changed. She drank it because that was what people were drinking and blending in was important.

  A blonde that walked like she was the very definition of ditzy approached Katie as she wandered around and pointed at her blood red skirt. (It was Tiffany's, who said it would look better on Katie. Katie didn't want to admit it, but her perky roommate was right, even though it ran the risk of making her look like a 1980’s British hooker).

  "I absolutely adore that on you. So cute. Nice top too," ditzy said, pointing at Katie's low-cut teal shirt.

  "Thanks. Nice hair.”

  The Ditz's hair was well done, probably a good hour and half of work at a salon that very afternoon.

  Katie picked the only thing that she could compliment at first glance. Ditzy was wearing Dukes of Hazard low cut jean shorts, cheap Wet Seal flip flops with tacky rhinestones on them, and somewhat ugly brown button up shirt that was unbuttoned to show her lacy red bra.

  "So who are you here with?” she asked Katie, her voice a bubble that wouldn’t pop.

  "Oh, no one in particular, it was just a general invite."

  "Okay, well I'll give a general piece of advice. I'd stay away from the football players if you were thinking of you know, hooking up. The coach is making them all take a week off from you know, enjoying the fields before the big game next week. Especially after their loss last night. Most of the brothers in the house are also already taken anyway. Even if they look like they aren't the girls that were expecting to hang out with aren't going to be too happy with someone messing with their men, especially when they aren’t supposed to.”

  “I thought you just said they are supposed to take the week off?”

  Ditzy sighed. “Well, you’re cute and you know, boys will be boys.”

  Katie put up her hand.

  "Girl, relax. I'm just here for the booze."

  The ditz smiled and nodded her head. "Well, in that case, girl, party on, however I gotta show you something."

  She grabbed Katie by the hand and dragged her out of the kitchen into what appeared to be the dinning room, which had been converted into the game room with a full pool table and a couch in front of a sixty-two-inch flat screen. A couple of people were playing Wii sports and laughing to themselves. There was also a cabinet to the side with what appeared to basically be a full bar, bottles of every liquor you could think of and a silver bucket with what Katie assumed was ice. On the shelf above were various glasses and above that through reflective glass she could see the top shelf stuff, mostly scotches at least twelve years plus what appeared to still be under lock and key.

  The ditz made her way over to the mini bar and poured two shots from a bottle of Stoli.

  "To my Russian ancestors. At least I think they were Russian, but Mom always was a pathological liar."

  It may have been that Katie was impressed that ditzy even had the word “pathological” in her vocabulary, or it may have been that she actually used it in correct context in a sentence, but either way a free drink was a free drink. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going to not except the gesture of hospitality from someone who if nothing else could be a guide.

  Katie took the shot and clinked it against the Ditz's glass.

  "Cheers," she said.

  The Ditz frowned, clearly deep in thought. "What are we cheering to?"

  For some reason Katie was expecting the question so the answer rolled off her tongue without as much as a thought before she said it. "To pathological liars."

  "Cheers!"

  They clinked shots again and downed the liquor.

  By the time Katie ran into the Greek god she was sufficiently hammered. She also literally ran into him, because the living room was packed with people dancing to an actual DJ who was mixing on a fold out table with a laptop and digital turn table.

  The DJ was scruffy with a dark, ten-o’clock-shadow and a Net's cap turn
ed backwards, his ears pierced with curved horns that looked like fake Ebony. His lip was pierced too, and he wore baggy jeans and a baggy black T-shirt that would have looked very fashionable if it was still 2002.

  He was mixing an Adele song with Little Wayne and the crowd was feeling it. Katie was too and was dancing away when she bumped into the cute boy from her psychology class, the one with brown hair and matching gorgeous eyes. He was busy dancing with a very pretty Japanese exchange student.

  Katie had turned around to apologize, but as she did she kept moving forward and ran headfirst into the Greek god. She looked up at him and opened her mouth, and he looked down at her and winked.

  Katie turned and starting dancing with the nearest guy she saw that she felt was vaguely attractive, who looked possibly thirty with a thick beard and was built like a gladiator. Katie felt eyes on her, a dangerous looking Latino man in the corner who also looked like he was pushing thirty and who was wearing all black, and a couple of frat boys. Normally she didn’t like having the attention of others, but the booze was helping Katie not care.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ditz who was dancing with another girl shake her head from side to side, so she made her way through the dancing throng to her and started to dance with her and the other girl, who were both happy to make it a ménage-a-trios.

  The song ended and the next started and Katie continued to dance with the girls.

  Later, it was all beginning to blur together, like someone flicking through TV channels.

  Katie was outside, smoking a cigarette with a half a dozen other people, (though some of them weren't smoking cigarettes) and was talking to a girl who could best be described as an Amazon Princess. She was tall with natural red hair and pale skin, wearing a single piece over one shoulder blue dress, who had apparently just come after singing at a wedding.