The 2nd Cycle of the Darc Murders Omnibus (the acclaimed series from #1 Police Procedural and Hard Boiled authors Carolyn McCray and Ben Hopkin)

by Carolyn McCray

  “Sure,” Trey answered. “I get it. Totally.”

  Based off his partner’s tone, the silver links murmured that Trey did not, in fact, get it. Not in the slightest.

  “But here’s the thing,” he continued. “I might get it, but other people won’t. And I need to eliminate you as a suspect. So one more time, I have to ask you. Where were you last night between the hours of--?”

  “I already told you,” she cut him off. “I was painting in my studio.”

  “Alone.”

  “Yes.”

  Trey made no further response, but instead walked over to join Darc closer to the victim. Shaking his head, he gestured back to the artist, who once more had her head between her knees.

  “There’s something off about her,” he muttered.

  “She appears distraught,” Darc responded, the silver links giving him information he did not normally possess.

  Trey shot him a look. “Yeah. She appears distraught. But I’m not sure that waterworks routine is real. I saw enough fake tears when I was working a beat to recognize a snow job.”

  That information caused an eruption within Darc. The new source of emotional information that flowed from the links now appeared compromised. That there might be subtleties to the psychological data that the silver links could not penetrate had not been an idea that had even occurred to Darc.

  Seeming not to notice the chaos into which his partner had been thrown, Trey continued his explanation. “Before we showed up, both Randall and Dr. Kelly said that she seemed fascinated with the body. And did you notice the way the thing was lit? Like it was part of the show or something.”

  With that additional statement, the disarray inside of Darc resolved itself once more into an integrated data processing machine. The links vibrated, setting the colored bands in motion.

  The crime scene had appeared staged with a certain sense of expertise. The killer had made sure all angles of the body were well lit, creating a macabre display for those who would come afterward.

  The publicity that would attend this spate of murders could propel an artist into the stratosphere. The notoriety attached to being a suspect in a serial murder case could make this young woman’s career, accentuating her already graphic subject matter.

  Men… and women, for that matter… had killed for less.

  Randall paused for a moment, the shutter of his camera going still for the first time since they arrived on the scene. “You know, I’ve seen some of these pictures before. Well, sort of.”

  “Yeah, dude,” Trey called over to him. “That’s called the Kama Sutra. And you’ve been a naughty boy, haven’t you?”

  But Randall shook his head. “No. Not that. This is more…” His voice trailed off and the photographer blushed. “I had a girlfriend once that was into some pretty weird stuff. And she took me to this place…” He cleared his throat. “Um. It was called something like the Moon Temple, I think.”

  Darc observed as Trey turned toward him, the expression on his partner’s face appearing panicked. “Are we going to have to go there now?”

  “You can’t,” Randall blurted, and then blushed once again. “The police raided the place a couple of years back. It’s not there any more.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Trey said, but the silver links pulsed inside of Darc’s imagination, alerting him to his companion’s lie. “Guess we’re out of luck as far as clues go, right?”

  “Well, that’s the thing,” the photographer chimed in once again. “There’s another place where you can make appointments and stuff online. Woman who calls herself Goddess Tanja.”

  Trey whipped around and faced Randall. “How is it that you know all of this stuff?”

  “I told you. My girlfriend. Honest.”

  The last world squeaked out of Randall a full octave above his normal vocal range. A flash of silver light revealed that there could be some prevarication here as well, although this time it could be self-deception as much as overt lying.

  “That could be your best bet moving forward,” Dr. Kelly said, snapping off a pair of latex gloves and throwing them at one of his assistants to dispose of. “I analyzed the fluids used to make that glowing game of erotic Pictionary back at the first scene. It was a combination of semen and vaginal fluids.”

  “Great!” Trey said in relief. “Then we should get some good DNA evidence, right? Maybe find a match?”

  But the M.E. shook his head. “Oh, we’ve got plenty of evidence. Too much. There appear to be at least fifty separate donors that we’ll need to go through.”

  Trey groaned. “Fantastic.”

  Then, just as Darc stood on the point of requesting more information from the doctor, his phone vibrated. Glancing down at the screen, he saw it had come from Mala.

  Janey taken by DSHS. Come as soon you can.

  Trey glanced over and saw the message, and before Darc could say a word, his partner was calling out to the group. His voice carried through the small space, echoing back at them for added impact and resonance.

  “Darc and I have an emergency to take care of. You hold down the fort, guys!” He started to leave.

  But as he moved, Darc placed a hand on his partner’s shoulder, holding the tousle-haired detective back. “One moment.”

  Darc approached the artist, who was still holding her head between her knees. As she heard him approach, Mya looked up into Darc’s eyes.

  “I heard you. You’re leaving. So go.”

  “You are a possible suspect in a case with multiple homicides,” Darc said, as if she hadn’t spoken. “You must not leave Seattle.”

  “I can’t leave, you prick. I’m an artist. I don’t have a car. I have no money. Where exactly am I going to go?”

  But Darc continued to stare at her. The silver links inside, for some reason, demanded that he not say another word.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” Mya said, tears welling up in her eyes. “I just lost an incredible opportunity to get my art seen by hundreds of people who want to buy art. And I’m a suspect?”

  For a brief moment, as Darc turned to walk away, the silver ties spoke of temperance, of leaving this poor, underprivileged woman alone. But when he glanced back at her before walking out the door, Darc saw something that caused that glimmer of white light to pulse at a different frequency.

  It might have been a trick of the light, but it appeared that Mya was smiling.

  * * *

  The Headminister wormed out of a cluster of bodies. Men, women, it didn’t matter when the body was aroused. Any and all comers were welcome.

  So were fruits and vegetables, for that matter.

  Slinking over to a pile of ancient texts, the Headminister felt the cool air brush the naked form of that finest of instruments, the human body. The ancients had so much of it right. The glorification of the nude. The objectification of the body sexual.

  The table almost groaned under the weight of the esoteric knowledge collected from the ages. When it came to classical works of erotica, almost every culture had theirs.

  Greek. Roman. Indian. Egyptian. Chinese. French.

  Yes, even the British and Japanese Empires had their fair share of naughty secrets. The repressed cultures often had a tendency to wallow in the filth more than the others, creating bizarre distortions of pleasure that often found themselves far removed from the original sources of sexual gratification.

  It was these that the Headminister many times found the most pleasing.

  Of course, the Tantras had their mysteries. The ancient Egyptian papyri suggested the same. The writings of Aleister Crowley, Paschal Beverly Randolph, Ida Craddock, Arnold Krumm-Heller… they also promised the secrets of the universe would be opened through hedonistic pleasure. Although some of them, bizarrely, were downright prudes when it came to how to go about sex magick. Rules and regulations should not apply to something so straightforward as pleasure.

  As was true so often, the simple answer was the best answer. There need be no hi
dden mysteries. “Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law.”

  What the Headminister wouldst do was all laid out here, in the moaning, writhing bodies that filled this space. Safe from the world and its hypocrisies, unbreachable, unassailable… this place was a haven of pleasure.

  And pain.

  This night. This night there would be another. One selected in advance. Prepared, groomed, coached. She thought she was making her own decisions.

  She was wrong.

  All had been planned out. So much of what had come before had been for this sole purpose. The Headminister had been looking forward to this moment for quite some time now.

  Ah, the pain and the writhing and the gnashing of teeth when those involved discovered the plan that was already in motion. That was where so many before had failed. They had looked to write their crimes large. Paint them across the sky.

  No.

  Time to find the lever that would move the world. For this had the Headminister been commissioned. One tiny screw that, when tightened, would break the strongest and bravest warrior alive.

  And he would break, that intellectual warrior. He and those who were with him.

  All those who were with him.

  Another body approached the Headminister. This one male. It was time, was it not? The idea that only women should be sacrificed on the altar of pleasure was such an outdated, misogynistic, patriarchal ideal. True, the female form was one of exquisite perfection, but the male body had its uses as well.

  A third sacrifice, adorned with the sacred fluids of pleasure to confuse the poor, hapless detectives. They were so unequipped to deal with what the Headminister had in store for them.

  The Headminister felt passion stir within. There would be a sacrifice.

  All in good time.

  * * *

  There were times in which Trey felt valuable.

  This was not one of those times.

  Under normal circumstances, when someone was crying, that was Trey’s place to step in. Big emotions didn’t scare him off. He even had some empathy that he could offer to those in need.

  There had been more than one occasion where Trey had surprised someone with his level of sensitivity. He might seem like a guy’s guy, but when it came to dealing with pain and suffering, he was practically a woman.

  Wait… that didn’t sound exactly the way he wanted it to.

  But right now, Mala was a mess, and Trey had no idea how to handle it.

  Not that he wasn’t willing to step in and be there for her. He could have done that just fine. Provide a shoulder upon which she could rest her head as she cried herself into oblivion. That was practically a part of his job description, for crying out loud.

  One of the problems with Darc as a detective was that he was a bull in a china shop. And, in addition to making sure his fly was up, part of Trey’s responsibilities were following around behind the bald detective, cleaning up the guy’s emotional messes.

  But what the freak was Trey supposed to do about this?

  Darc held Mala in his arms, stroking her hair, murmuring comforting words to her. Three fourths of those words Trey hadn’t thought Darc even knew existed.

  Holding? Stroking? Comforting?

  The world had gone mad, and Trey no longer knew his place within it.

  The cabana boy slash banana hammock option was looking better and better.

  As soon as they’d walked in the door, Trey had known that Mala was falling apart. Her hair had been disheveled, her eyes red from weeping, her nose raw. And within seconds of their arrival, Mala had burst into tears once more.

  It wasn’t as if Trey had never seen Mala in tough times before. Please. He’d seen her right after she’d escaped from being kidnapped. He’d seen her severed head floating around a pot of human stew, for crying out loud.

  Okay, it had been a wax replica, but whatever.

  The point was, Mala always managed to keep it together, even during her most trying circumstances. But the idea of losing Janey had destroyed her.

  All her defenses were down. There was no regrouping, no pulling herself together, no hiding how much of a hot mess she was right now.

  And Darc was the one who was helping her cope.

  Yeah, on a purely objective level, Trey could see that this was a good thing. An excellent thing, in fact. Darc and Mala were together. Of course it should be Darc doing the comforting here. Of course.

  It did, however, rob Trey of any job security he might have thought he had.

  Time to venture a question. At least then he’d feel like he was doing something.

  “When’s the hearing set?”

  A hiccupping sob answered him, as Mala tried to find some level of control. “Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

  “Wow. That’s… that’s fast,” he replied. “Like, super fast. Isn’t it?”

  Mala nodded, still sobbing.

  Trey knew that the courts were always backed up. And when it came to things like adoption and foster care, it was that much worse. Or at least that’s what he had heard.

  How had they managed to get this one pushed through so quickly?

  This might not be the time to mention it, but Trey sensed there was something else going on here. And while talking about how the deck might be stacked against them wasn’t a great idea, talking strategy could be.

  “Okay. We can handle this,” he said as he paced back and forth through Mala’s living room. Darc and she were entwined on the couch, so he had an unobstructed path to follow here. “We’ve done it before, right?”

  They had. More than once, DSHS had attempted to prove that Janey wasn’t safe with Mala. Or with Darc or Trey for that matter.

  And it wasn’t like they were wrong, either. Trey could admit that when it came to Janey, this environment might not be the safest for a normal girl.

  But Janey was anything but a normal girl.

  If they weren’t bringing her along to crime scenes, Janey would find them herself. She’d proven it again and again.

  But Darc and Trey’s testimonies, combined with that of Chief Merle’s, had been enough to convince DSHS that Mala was the right placement for this little girl. The question was, would the same trick work twice.

  Getting Merle out of his office was never an easy thing, but he’d proven almost enthusiastic when it had come to Mala. Perhaps he would again. It was worth asking.

  But Mala had started shaking her head as soon as the words were out of Trey’s mouth. Her weeping had subsided a bit, but it still took her a while to be able to speak.

  “I don’t think Templeton and Cross would have removed her if they thought we’d be able to get her back the same way we did last time.” She looked into Darc’s eyes, then back at Trey. “I think something’s going on that we don’t know about. And I’m scared.”

  Her words echoed Trey’s earlier thoughts, and he realized once again how ridiculous it was for him to try to outthink either of these two in front of him. Even when they were distracted by grief and pain they were more than a match for him.

  Screw it.

  Trey didn’t care if he was useless. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do everything he could for Mala. For Janey.

  These people were family. And you did your best for family.

  Even when that best was well below sub-par.

  “Doesn’t matter. We’ll figure it out.” Another thought came to Trey. “Hold on. We’ve got someone else up our sleeve. Someone who fought you at first but now’s come around. Carly.”

  He whipped around, looking for the girl, as if she would pop up out of nowhere just because he’d said her name. Come to think of it, where was she? Shouldn’t she be out here comforting her… what was Mala to her? A guardian, maybe? Trey shook his head. That didn’t matter. Where the girl was right now mattered.

  Mala turned her tear-streaked face back up to face him. “She went out before any of this happened.” Then, at the sour face that Trey made in response to her statement, Mala
added, “I gave her permission.”

  “Well, ungive it,” he said, pointing at her cell phone that sat on the coffee table.

  “I’ve called and texted, but haven’t gotten a response yet.” Mala’s tone sounded defensive and worried all at once. Almost as if she were worried that Trey would judge her skills as a mother.

  That was just silly. Trey remembered enough of his teenage years to know what Mala was going through right now. And he hadn’t been a street urchin runaway.

  “Do you know where she is?”

  Mala nodded. “She said she was going to Neumos.”

  Trey heard the name and froze. At the same moment, he could see his partner stiffen up as well. Darc turned around and their eyes met.

  Mala wasn’t an idiot. As soon as the two had that interaction, she picked up on it.

  “What’s going on?”

  Rather than answering, Trey scooped her purse off of the back of the chair where it was hanging and handed it to her. Darc stood, pulling Mala up with him.

  “We need to go,” the bald detective said. “Now.”

  Trey couldn’t agree more.

  * * *

  The first thing the mean social worker had done when Janey had gotten into the car was take Popeye away. He said something about the bear being filthy and a carrier of disease. The last thing Janey heard Popeye say before he was shoved into the glove compartment was him complaining about humans and their germ issues.

  But Janey didn’t cry.

  It was different this time. She felt it right away.

  Before, when Janey had been taken away from Darc or Mala, the grown ups had been super nice to her. They’d spoken to her like she was a moron, but they’d tried to make her feel welcome and special. Until Janey started causing trouble, of course.

  This time, right from the start, she was kept alone. No other adults, other than himself and the police officer.

  “I know you, Caitlyn,” the stupid mean social worker said. “You like to cause trouble. So this time, I won’t let you.”

  He made the nice police officer put her in the back of the car, where the doors were locked on the inside and there was a cage keeping her from the front. It made her feel like she was some kind of wild animal.