by B. C. Sirrom
SIX
“Bonnie!”
Kirks voice floated to her up the staircase even as she heard the front door slam. She’d left Dutch Harbor immediately, before Geoff could come home and find his grandson’s body. She’d returned to her condo and was frantically throwing everything that she could into her travel bags. She might have been innocent of Walter’s murder but Todd’s death was her fault and it would be all-too-easy for the authorities to figure out the murder weapon and pin both deaths on her. It was time to leave.
Kirk’s footsteps were taking the stairs two at-a-time and, judging by his breathing, he had even more bad news for her. She didn’t look up when he burst through the doorway but, to her surprise, he took one look and immediately started helping her pack.
“Jill called my captain when I didn’t come home last night.” He gasped as he stuffed her bloody scarf into one of the bags. She quickly devised that Jill was his pregnant wife and patiently removed the scarf, tossing it on the floor between the bed and the wall.
“He sent a patrol out to look for me but they didn’t know where to look. He threatened to take me off the case if I didn’t tell him where I was all night.” He continued.
“Did you?” She asked, only half-caring about the answer.
“Of course not.” He sounded appalled but continued without missing a beat. “So I’m off the case. They gave it to Schreider and I’m telling you, Bonnie, she’s a monster. He ordered me to give her all of my case files but I pretended that I was having computer problems to stall for time.”
“I can’t pack any faster.” She growled, zipping up the first bag and throwing it toward the doorway.
“That’s not all. Twenty minutes ago a call came in from Dutch Harbor. A neighbor found Todd dead in Geoff’s living room and said that she saw you leaving the house earlier this morning. They’re putting together a warrant right now.”
“I guess one bag will have to do.” She spat, dropping everything that she’d been trying to cram into her second bag and stomping into her closet. Ten years of hard work and dedication were falling apart around her ankles and she wouldn’t even have time to take her damn wardrobe.
“What are you doing now?” He asked, still cramming clothes into her second bag, but she ignored him.
She swept away a curtain of crisply pressed satin blouses and tugged on the front of her shoe shelf until it separated from the back wall of her closet, just enough that she could slip her hand into the crack. A moment later she retrieved a long, roughly woven and age beaten crimson scarf.
“What’s that?” He asked, finally stopping to look at her.
He watched as she spread the scarf out gently in her fingertips and draped it around the back of her neck. With practiced expertise she lifted the middle section of it high over her head and slowly lowered it over her horns. With a touch of magic the fabric woven from Valkyrie hair slowly descended toward her scalp, seemingly dissolving her horns as they vanished beneath it. Kirk’s eyes grew wide as he watched but he only grinned appreciatively once the transformation was complete and she was tucking the ends around her neck to secure them.
“Brilliant!” He exclaimed. “Now we’ll make it to Tahiti for sure! They’ll be looking for a woman with horn implants so no one will ever suspect you like this!”
Bonnie examined her reflection in the mirror. By all accounts she was just your average human woman with a taste for extreme tattoos and piercings, but wearing the scarf over her head for the rest of her life wasn’t going to be an option.
“We have to go. As soon as they get the warrant signed they’ll be on their way over here.” He said.
Bonnie turned to face Detective Kirk once more, a sad expression on her face.
“I don’t even know your first name.” She whispered, stepping toward him and placing her palm lightly on his cheek.
“It’s Michael.” He said quickly, basking under her gaze.
“Michael, thank you for everything that you’ve done for me. Last night was the most fun that I’ve ever had in my life ... but I can’t take you with me.”
His face fell and he gripped her free hand in both of his. “Why not?”
Without answering she moved her palm from his cheek to his throat, curled her fingers around his windpipe, and began to squeeze. His eyes went wide with shock and she stepped toward him until he fell backward across the bed. She fell on top of him without losing her grip, her eyes welling with tears once more as he struggled and jerked beneath her.
“You were perfect.” She whispered, close to his ear. “I won’t forget you.” At last his protests finally ceased and his eyes rolled vacantly to the side. She poised her lips above his mouth and waited for his soul.
*****
Mexico City, Mexico
In a filthy little clinic on the outskirts of the city a nurse arrived to work one morning, only to discover the lifeless body of her boss – Romero Martinez, FRCS(Plas) – draped over his own examination table. The murder weapon, a large amber-colored horn, was protruding from the wound in Romero’s chest and another lay a few feet away on the floor. Local police had no leads but Diana would remain convinced that his death was the work of la bruxa do diabo.
*****
Rio De Janeiro, Brazil
“E agora o momento você tem tudo que espera!”
Inside La Bichano Picante the lights went dark and the club erupted in cheers as a tall, exotic looking woman stood bathed by a red spotlight and covered from head-to-toe with tattoos. The soft chimes of a deep, haunting bell filled the room followed by a chorus of male voices chanting a slow, dark dirge.
About L. M. Smith
L.M. Smith is both an avid reader and writer. Her favorite authors include Kim Harrison and Richard Adams. She began writing stories and poetry as a child and has always been fascinated by mythology and the paranormal.
A self-proclaimed 'desert rat', she lives near Las Vegas, Nevada with the love of her life, their three dogs, and two cats. She is proud to be an alumna of the University of Phoenix and enjoys horseback riding, kayaking, and taking long walks with Vladimir: her Doberman Pinscher. While working on her next upcoming publication, her guilty pleasures include salt-and-pepper flavored sunflower seeds and cold, home-brewed coffee with Italian Sweet Cream ... though never at the same time because that would be yucky.
Facebook: https://www.Facebook.com/AuthorLMSmith
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