by Debra Dunbar
I pushed him away, laughing as I turned around and flung open the broom closet door. Something toppled out on top of me the second I opened it, knocking me to the ground. My first thought was that whatever had been leaning against the door was far heavier than a broom. It smelled a lot worse, too. It smelled like blood.
I held back a scream as I tried to shove what appeared to be a freshly butchered side of beef off of me. Zac didn’t have my restraint, and I was oddly amused to hear his high-pitched shriek. Amused until I got a good look at what I’d just pushed off to the side. It wasn’t a huge chunk of beef at all, but something just as unlikely to be found in a museum broom closet.
It was a human body—a freshly skinned human body.
Chapter 2
DETECTIVE TREMELAY WALKED into the room and did a double take, his eyes widening as he saw me. “Ainsworth. Why am I not surprised?”
Zac’s naughty intentions had vanished with the presence of the grotesquely skinned body. Honestly, mine had, too. It wasn’t just the shock or the ick factor, but the blood now decorating my shirt and little black skirt. It didn’t do a lot for my sex appeal.
The one good thing in all of this was that Janice had texted me to say she was leaving to have coffee with her tall blond guy before all this went down. It was a relief she hadn’t been here. I didn’t want to ruin what had most likely been the best, or only, dating experience she’d had in years.
“Tremelay. Glad you could join the party.” I grinned at the detective, noticing Zac shoot me a narrow eyed look as I did. “I opened the closet door here, and this body fell out on top of me.”
Tremelay looked down at the aforementioned dead body. “And what exactly were you doing in a broom closet? Did you break some priceless Ming Dynasty pottery and hoped to do a quick clean up?”
“We were going into the closet for a bit of private time.” Zac’s tone bordered on the hostile side. “Just Aria and me, you know?”
Tremelay’s head shot up and so did his eyebrows. “A closet? Ainsworth, you were getting it on with this boy in a closet?”
Crap. The detective was twenty years older than me, and now I felt like I was all of twelve years old. And Zac wasn’t exactly a boy. He was my age. Give or take a year.
Although everyone did seem to think I was older than I truly was. Probably not after admitting to almost making out in a broom closet, though. And from the sudden amount of tension in the room I got the feeling that Zac was thinking about opening up a whole can of whoop-ass on the detective. I’m sure the only thing holding him back was the pistol at Tremelay’s hip and the fact that a police record wouldn’t do Zac’s career any good.
Still, his surge of caveman testosterone was making me rethink this whole dating thing. If he was this way now, was I going to need a restraining order in a few months? I might have just been saved from an obsessive boyfriend by a dead guy in a broom closet. I might need to have the “let’s be friends” talk with Zac sooner rather than later.
“Any idea who the dead man is?”
Now it was my turn to do the raised eyebrow thing. “Seriously? He’s been skinned. The only way I know it’s a ‘he’ and not a ‘she’ is the lack of boobs and the lap sausage.”
Which also had no skin on it. The body was like an anatomy class dummy, only oozing blood. “I think he was killed fairly recently. Maybe he’s one of the museum attendees? Or employees?”
Tremelay turned to the Man-In-A-Suit, who I presumed was in charge of the museum. “Well?”
The guy knotted his hands together, carefully avoiding any position where he might actually catch a glimpse of the dead body. “All the employees working today are accounted for. We’re going through the sign-in and checking it against the people still in the museum, but we don’t keep track of when people leave. Out of one hundred sixty some visitors today, there are probably only forty left in the museum.”
I looked again at the body. We might have to wait for a missing person’s report and the M.E.’s findings before we could discover the identity of this man. There were no clothes, no wallet, nothing but a naked guy without the slightest bit of skin on him. Not even any fingerprints to check. Hopefully the guy had something about him that allowed us to get a positive ID sometime this century.
Us. I doubted that normally I’d be included in this investigation, and there was still a chance I wouldn’t be, even though I’d been the one who found the body. A murderer who skinned their victim could be a psycho with a thing for taxidermy, or it could be something else. I’d only be involved if it were “something else.”
Two guys wheeled in a stretcher. Another with them began to snap pictures. Tremelay took out his little notepad and began to write. I got the feeling that my presence was no longer needed, and I was sure that Zac was itching to get out of here.
“We good?”
Tremelay looked over. “Yep. I’ll call you if I need you, Ainsworth.”
I knew he would. And as much as I wished my life would return to normal, part of me wished I would get that phone call.
Chapter 3
IT WAS THE sort of gorgeous fall day where everyone, residents and tourists alike, were flooding the Inner Harbor. After the excitement at the museum, my coffee shop shift and solo night watching television seemed mind-numbingly dull. Dario had cancelled our scheduled meeting due to some vampire business, and I was restless and bored. By ten at night I’d called Janice to let her know I wanted to join her for the demon exorcism.
Which might not be a demon exorcism, but was better than sitting in my apartment all day.
I’d arrived at our meeting spot early just so I could soak up the sun, relax in the hard metal chair and enjoy a cold beer and some oysters. Two teenagers were eating ice cream as they sat on the brick sidewalk just outside the roped off area for outside dining. A couple with three rambunctious children in tow consulted a map and looked around, pointing at various landmarks. The guy at the table next to me hammered his crab claws violently, digging in the shattered shells for meat with the point of a steak knife.
I loved people watching almost as much as I loved the oysters, topped with a spray of lemon juice and a heaping teaspoon of fresh horseradish. The guy next to me gave up hammering and I heard the teenage girl on the other side of the rope say something that grabbed my attention.
“I want a vampire.”
So did I, but I didn’t think the girl with her jean shorts and sky-blue T-shirt wanted an actual, real life vampire. Maybe she meant like in the movies. I hadn’t hung out with teenagers since I’d been one myself, but I remember mooning over romantic leads and wishing my very human boyfriends were more like the perfect guys on the silver screen.
“Get over it, Becca,” the boy responded. “Like, you’re seriously going to hunt down a vampire and jump her? You’re such a baby sometimes. Grow the fuck up.”
Brother and sister and not boyfriend and girlfriend? I remembered similar arguments with my own siblings, without the cursing and vampire reference though.
“That was the deal,” the girl shot back, her voice crackling with anger. “I help us sneak out and get away from Grandmother, then you help me find a vampire.”
Oh sheesh. Kids sneaking out. Been there, done that. I looked quickly over at the two, judging them to be about sixteen or so. The boy had black hair in an overgrown buzz cut. The color made him look Goth in contrast to his pale skin. The girl was equally pale, her long, golden-brown hair with streaks of blue and pink pulled back into a ponytail. The profile of her face showed a cute upturned nose and an excess of eyeliner, as well as neon-pink lip gloss.
“Whatever.” I could practically hear the eye roll in the boy’s voice. “You wanna kill yourself messing with vampires, have at it. I’m sticking with humans.”
Smart boy.
“Where’s Lawton?” The girl asked, abruptly changing the subject like teens seemed to do. “He was supposed to meet us here. Think he’s okay?”
The boy made a frustrated sound deep
in his throat. “We should have ditched him days ago. He’s home with his family. Something about his dad needing help and his kid’s baseball game. I can’t wait around for him. I’ve gotta change and stop by the bitch’s house for my backpack and some cash.”
I blinked, disturbed by the boy’s callous language. And what friend of theirs could have a kid old enough to be playing in baseball games? But before I could eavesdrop further, Janice showed up. She was all aflutter with sparkling eyes and a very carefully put together skirt and sweater-set combo. I was dying to pump her for details on yesterday, to see if the charm worked or not, but waited for her to settle in with a beer and a few oysters first.
“So…how did things go with the tall blond guy?” Finally. I was squirming with excitement. Judging from her happy expression, things had gone very well indeed.
Janice blushed. I don’t think I’d ever seen the reporter blush. “We have a date tomorrow night. He’s already texted me.”
We both squealed and stomped our feet, which caused our waiter and several other patrons to turn and stare. Even the two teens looked our way before moving off the step and heading down the pathway toward the aquarium. I didn’t care. It’s not like the little outdoor raw bar was particularly upscale, and I was thrilled for my friend.
At least something had gone right yesterday.
“So…” Janice squirmed, giving me a sly smile. “His name is Sean Merrill. He’s a real estate developer in Harford County. Divorced two years with no kids. He was already hinting at taking me to an upcoming campaign fundraiser for one of the mayoral candidates. If things go well tomorrow night, I might be shopping for a black-tie dress.”
Wow, she really had hit the jackpot. “That’s awesome!”
She grinned. “I know! We’ll have to double-date with Zac one night.”
A double date with Janice and her new beau wouldn’t exactly send the “just friends” message I needed send to Zac. Darn it. It sounded like such a fun, mature, adult couple thing to do. It sucked that the one guy in the last two years that I really wanted to be with was dead. Or undead, actually.
“Sean really wants to meet you.” Janice nodded enthusiastically. “In fact, at first I thought maybe he was interested in you, not me. He saw your tattoo and commented on it. He was fascinated to hear that you were a Templar. Couldn’t stop asking me questions about you. I was starting to get a bit jealous.” She laughed. “After you went off with Zac we got to talking and suddenly he was asking me to have coffee with him.”
Maybe I was overly suspicious, but that whole speech worried me. The guy could be a history buff who did lots of reading about the Crusades. Or maybe he was less interested in Janice until he realized I was already taken. Still…
“You wearing your bracelet?”
Janice hid her wrist, shooting me a guilty look. “I love it, Aria, really I do. It just bangs on my keyboard when I’m typing and I forget to put it back on.”
“You really should wear it. Just in case.” How the heck could I say it might protect her against sharks in the water? Might. If I’d done the spellwork correctly, that is. It sucked that I had no one to call about these things, to double check my magical work.
Janice scowled. “Just in case what? I’m okay with the attraction charm, but if Sean needs the equivalent of a magical roofie to want to date me, then I’m not interested.”
I raised my hands. “Okay, okay. It’s not another attraction charm or anything though. It’s meant to shield you. I’m sure Sean seems nice and everything, but the bracelet will let you know if he doesn’t have your best interests at heart. It will protect you in case he’s just some player.”
“Oh.” Janice looked only slightly mollified. “I can protect myself. It is pretty, though, and I know you worked hard on it, Aria. I don’t want to seem unappreciative. I’ll try to remember to put it back on after I’m done typing.”
Janice was never done typing. I’d just have to rely on women’s intuition—both Janice’s and mine—to clue us in if Sean was a scumbag or not. It’s not like I was one hundred percent sure the bracelet charm would work anyway.
“So, how are things with you and Zac?”
Janice had the sly look on her face. No doubt she’d seen him with his arm around me at the reception. She’d been privy to my angsty discussions about my love life, or lack thereof. She’d also met Dario and Tremelay. And she’d admitted to being Team Tremelay, despite my repeated assurances that we were just friends as well as sort of investigative partners.
What to say? I didn’t want to ruin Janice’s fresh bloom of possible love with my decision to dump Zac. That girlfriend convo would have to wait for a few days at least.
“Well, we went off for some adolescent nookie in a back closet, but I was cock-blocked by a dead body.”
“What?” Janice shrieked.
Oh yeah. I’d forgotten that she hadn’t been there for my tussle with a corpse. The police weren’t particularly forthcoming when it came to releasing such gruesome details to the press. It had probably come across the police blotter as a medical emergency on Charles Street. It’s not like they made a habit of pronouncing anyone dead on the scene either. Even though the guy was without a doubt deceased, they would have claimed he was dead-on-arrival at the hospital.
“Yep. Dead man in the broom closet. Actually he was skinned, and I don’t think he’d been in the closet for long. Or dead for long, actually. There was no way to ID him, so I’m waiting for Tremelay to call me with the M.E. results.”
Although he might not call. If this was just some whack-job murderer, he’d have his hands full and no reason to waste time bringing his supernatural expert into the loop on a case that was not in her realm of expertise. I’d need to read about it in the paper eventually, along with all the other curious folk in Baltimore.
“Skinned? As in the dead body did not have any skin on it? Holy shit. I’m so pissed that I missed that. Of course the police are going to put the lid on all the details. Damn it.”
Yep. Sometimes you were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And by that I meant me, not Janice.
“Hey, everyone needs a day off. You were having coffee, entrancing the oh-so-eligible Sean Merrill with your considerable charm.” I patted her hand at her disgruntled noise. “You’ll be first in line when they find the Psychotic Skinner. In the meantime, you’ve got that great human interest piece about demonic possession and the lack of funding for mental health services.”
She smiled. “Yeah. There’s that. Are they seriously, calling him the Psychotic Skinner? Can I quote that?”
“I’m calling him the Psychotic Skinner. As far as I know, the police have not yet given the killer a catchy tweet-worthy name.”
“Figures.” Janice shoved the tray of oysters over to me. “Slurp down the last one and let’s get going. I’m thinking it would be really bad form for us to be late to an exorcism.”
I wasn’t one to let shellfish go to waste, so I did as Janice said and we hustled to her car.
The event was taking place at a lovely single-family home in the Canton neighborhood. It was a short drive from the harbor and there was plenty of parking was available both street side and in the wide driveway leading to a two car garage. Janice chose to park on the street. We walked up to the door past beautifully manicured hedge and rang the doorbell. A distraught woman answered. She wore yoga pants and a fitted T-shirt, her hair a messy bun on the top of her head.
“I’m Janice Oswald. The reporter from The Sun.”
The woman grabbed Janice’s hands, practically dragging her into the house. I followed, looking around with curiosity. The inside was just as neat and clean as the outside. The oak furniture had clearly been bought from the same high-end collection. Accent pieces were color coordinated in burgundy with splashes of light green that gave the décor a modern flare. The carpet was white plush and I grimaced, checking my shoes for dirt. Clearly this woman didn’t have kids. Or pets.
“He’s upstairs. He just g
ot home a few moments ago. Father Bernard is already here.”
I hadn’t been introduced yet, and the sister of the possessed man didn’t seem to care, so I followed them up the carpeted stairs and down a hallway to a large bedroom. Inside was a man who looked to be in his early twenties. He wore jeans, a T-shirt promoting a band called Rabid Rabbit, and had a backpack slung over one shoulder. In the other corner was a priest, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here on a Saturday afternoon.
“That’s Bradley. At least, it used to be Bradley. Now it’s a demon in Bradley’s body.”
“Would you knock it off Amanda? I’ve gotta go. I just stopped in to grab my backpack and some cash. I don’t have time for your crazy demon-talk.” Bradley looked hunted as his eyes darted from his sister to the priest, then to the doorway that I was blocking. His head wasn’t spinning around. He wasn’t frothing at the mouth and spouting curses in arcane languages. He wasn’t levitating and convulsing. This didn’t look like a demon possession to me. Maybe the sister was the one who needed therapy and good pharmaceuticals, not her brother.
And how the heck were they living in this sweet home in Canton, anyway? The sister wasn’t any older than I was, and her brother looked maybe twenty-one or two. I didn’t get the feeling this was their parents’ home. Had the sister married well and her brother was sponging off of her, taking up residence in one of the guest bedrooms, sleeping all day and getting drunk at Rabid Rabbit concerts at night? Not that I wanted the white plush carpeting, but I was having a serious case of house envy here.
The priest sighed. “Bradley, I’m going to ask you a few questions—both you and your sister. She’s very concerned about you.”
Frustration flashed across Bradley’s face. “Will this take long? I’ve got a job interview in an hour.”
