“Good, it goes a little stiff now and then but the doctor tells me that’s to be expected after major trauma.” In fact, there was no stiffness to my arm or sore spots, and there hadn’t been since two days after the injury had occurred. One of my wonderful, new powers was a natural ability to heal about as fast as a shifter could. I had the use of my arm on the third day after the wall was pushed on me, but I wore it in the sling, in public for the full six weeks. DJ called me a coward. I wanted to control who knew about me and when. I wasn’t ready to see who would and who wouldn’t accept me; who was my friend; and who was just pretending. I already lost Anton and my friendship with Incarra was dangling by a thread. So my connection to my daytime world was crumbling. Hamilton watched me curiously stretch the arm and show him the mobility.
“That’s good,” he said slightly smiling as I stretched both my arms and locked my fingers in the air above my head. I realized this made my chest stick out and quickly relaxed.
“So, are you going to tell me what you found?”
“Sure.” I crossed my legs and cupped my hands over the knee. “The symbol on Callaghan’s forehead was a Chinese character.”
“A Chinese character?” I furrowed my brow and swore Hamilton’s interest peeked.
“Yes,” I said examining and smoothing the furrow away with great effort. “For pig to be exact.”
“Pig? That’s kind of fitting. How does it factor in?” He leaned back in his chair and it squeaked.
“I can’t work that out at the moment. I have no idea why the Chinese character was chosen. It’s the pig that’s important, along with the fact that it glowed orange.” I uncrossed my legs and re-crossed the other way.
“The pig and the color orange are associated with the seven deadly sins, in this specific case Gluttony.”
“Gluttony makes sense and there was that huge roasted pig in the middle of the table. This guy seems to be big on his symbolism.”
“Yes, I guess so. Did you talk to the wife?”
Hamilton removed another folder from his filing tray, careful not to bring attention to the one he put on top of it earlier. He opened it on his desk.
“Yes she came in this morning. I can see why he married her and why they got divorced. According to Mrs. Callaghan, her husband had great trouble with his weight and eating habits from his pre-adolescent days up to his early twenties. He loved his food and she loved him and married him when he was a fat, fairly jolly man. Her words not mine. He was in a car accident where he was trapped for hours because he was too big. He needed to be cut out. He lost a lot of weight during his hospital stay and kept going. He’d become a different man. She couldn’t bring a candy bar into the house or cook a romantic meal without him blowing up at her. She would watch him binge on bad foods when a case didn’t go his way and throw it back up afterwards. His behavior worried her but she couldn’t get him to seek help. The final straw was when he turned his obsession on her, convinced she too was overweight. She’s only a size twelve.”
I harrumphed, as I was also a size twelve and took great offense at Callaghan. Women were meant to have curves. If you wanted a size zero model, you might as well date a thirteen year old boy in a dress and a long wig. I said as much to Hamilton and he laughed.
“I do like my women with a little meat on their bones.” I nodded in acknowledge, but used my words to steer him back on course.
“From what we know, who would want him dead? He must have been a good lawyer. I could tell from his house.”
“He has an impressive track record, but he doesn’t work criminal law. He deals mostly with divorce cases.”
“Maybe a disgruntled client who didn’t think they got enough, or a spouse who thought he’d gotten too much out of them.”
“I’ve contacted his law office. His secretary is going to fax over a list of his clients from the last six months. I’ll run them all and try to find someone with a grudge against him. What about you? I have to say I expected you to have more on the magical angle.” I looked a teeny bit chagrined.
“My informant is out of town at the moment. I’ll know more hopefully tomorrow when I’ve talked to them. I need their books. I’m banned from the library after I broke into it.” To be fair, I broke into the library with good intentions. I was searching for a monster that was snatching little children, but we all know what they say about good intentions.
We sat regarding each other for a moment. I opened my mouth to broach the topic hanging in the air, ready to crash down on Hamilton’s head like the sword of Damocles, but shut it again. I decided for the hundredth time that I didn’t want to bring it up. Hamilton was investigating me for a reason. If I admitted I read the file and asked him to stop, it would make him more determined. I thought about asking Simian to help me upload my birth certificate onto the national database. As the majority of Weres had home births, and some communities were literally in the middle of nowhere, they had their own way to upload. I wouldn’t have to explain why I needed him to do this. The werewolves owed me. I’d ask him to file it by county instead of city. Or even the next county over to explain why Hamilton missed it before. But if my birth certificate suddenly appeared on the database, I’d have no idea how thoroughly he checked. Hamilton would know I saw his research and that I had something to hide. I was glad he wasn’t telepathic, or he’d have caught the miasma of guilt and suspicion swirling in my head. The only telepath I’ve met is the mayor and I was not his biggest fan. He tried using me to advance his political agenda and I didn’t like that.
The pause in our conversation was uncomfortable. I was relieved when there was a knock on the door, it opened and the face of Detective Sergeant Butcher peer in.
“Sorry to interrupt.” The words were polite but his face was completely unapologetic. “We got a call. Possible homicide in Fort Royal Park.”
Hamilton stood and strode purposely towards the door that Butcher now held all the way open.
“I need three units in cars,” he called, “and to the Fort Royal Park immediately.” Butcher rounded his desk, retrieving his gun and badge from the top draw. Hamilton fixed him with his gaze.
“Not you Butcher. Remember the evaluation, desk duty for the first month.”
“Oh come on Ham, you know I’ll be fine.”
“With the auditor in the building, you’re going to play by the rules or you’ll have to go back on leave.” Butcher sat back down with a displeased grunt. “You coming?”
I was lost in my own head. Butcher called Hamilton, Ham. Ham and Butcher, it made me giggle. Hamilton stared at me, and I realized he addressed me. Was I going to go along?
“Sure,” I said, following him. As we walked out of the room, I looked back at Butcher. He had no happy face. In fact, he looked severely pissed off at both of us.
Chapter Five
I climbed into Hamilton’s car before really thinking about it. There was nothing in the call that suggested this death had anything to do with Callaghan’s murder except for the tiny prickling I got at the back of my neck, and that was hardly proof. Either way, Hamilton embroiled me into looking at another body that may or may not have anything to do with me. Just great. I remember a time when I could count the bodies I’d seen, on one hand. This was no longer. When Hamilton didn’t put his flashers on, I grilled him on his sullen detective sergeant.
“Tell me about Butcher? Why have I not met him before?”
The brow above his left eye twitched. They both may have twitched, but I only saw his face in profile. Hamilton has a very graceful profile, the kind that belongs on a byzantine vase.
“He’s been on leave.”
“I got that from when I asked him why I’d not met him before. Why was he on leave?” We pulled up to a red light and Hamilton looked at me with suspicion.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Well for one, he was giving me the serious evils when we left and I want to make sure he doesn’t go all Ted Bundy on my ass.” Hamilton barked laughter then pul
led forward as the light changed color.
“Apart from the fact that that’s a bit harsh, it’s completely ridiculous. Butcher wouldn’t hurt a fly.” I crossed my arms, refusing deflection.
“That’s great for the fly community. I’ll send them a memo. I, however, am not a fly.”
Hamilton sighed. He saw I wasn’t going to back down so he capitulated.
“Last August we got called to a multiple shooting at a house. The uniforms were sure the house was clear. The shooter was hiding in a closet. When Butcher found him, he got shot. He took three to the chest, one in the hip and another in the leg. The kid just kept shooting till his clip emptied, even though Butcher was down. Most of the other rounds went into the wall when he’d hit the floor. It was touch and go for a while but he’s a tough man.” Hamilton turned left and headed south. He sounded like he greatly admired Butcher for what he’d been through. “It was remarkable that there was no damage. The kid had been no marksman. With some physical therapy, time, and mandatory sessions with the force psyche, he’s making a full recovery. Of course, he hates it that he’s desk bound, but my hands are tied. The psychiatrist won’t sign off on field work till she’s sure the stress won’t – you know…”
“Send him bug shit crazy.”
Hamilton shot me a look, trying to stop his lip from twitching into a smile.
“Yeah, something like that. I mean he’s got scars, some mental, some physical. His wife tells me he wouldn’t open their closet from anywhere but the side for months.”
“All right. So I won’t leave him alone in Ikea or buy him a weekend pass to Narnia.”
Hamilton pulled up to another light, turned to me and came part way over into my seat.
“This man is my friend Cassandra. He’s been through a lot. Don’t you make fun of him.”
“Sorry,” I said my cheeks flushing slightly, “you may not have noticed this yet, but I make inappropriate jokes when I’m nervous, or worried, or scared, or uncomfortable.”
“I get it. But what are you fretting about now?”
“Oh so many things,” I said, not wanting to look into his face anymore. My eyes flashed forward. “Your light’s green.” There were a couple of angry honks behind us and Hamilton returned to his side of the car. In response, he turned on his flashers and sped through the light as it turned red again.
The Fort Royal Park has only one entrance accessible by car from the top of the hill of the same name. The small culvert that allowed only as far as a line of bollards was stuffed with vehicles. The forensics van was right at the front, three squad cars with their lights still flashing were parked in a fan formation around it, and an ambulance at the back packing up. There was no one for them to save. We passed it, parking alongside everyone else and got out. The air was cool, so I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep my fingers from numbing. I followed behind Hamilton a few paces as I was only a guest. I watched the scene, taking in all the activity.
An officer stood on the path with a notebook taking a man’s statement. The man held tight to the leash of a golden retriever. On the grass, to their right, the forensic potatoes were hard at work in their shiny suits. They took pictures of something on the ground. I took a few steps closer. The retriever pulled on his leash, barked and wagged his tail as I approached. The officer noticed and I held up my identification, letting him know I wasn’t a nosy civilian. He went back to questioning the dog walker while the dog pawed my leg, obliging me to bend down and give his ears a rub. Isn’t it always people walking their dogs that find bodies? Or people just out for a jog? I saw clothes on the ground. It started with a pair of huge heeled black boots by the path, a pair of socks further on, then boot cut, denim wash blue jeans, a sparkly red club top, a nice lacey bra, and finally the matching panties. There was a small, hexagonal shaped structure just beyond, the clothes leading to it like a perverted Hansel and Gretel trail. The structure was some sort of cabinet, and a tree’s branch went right over the top. A uniformed officer named Carson lay on his belly on the branch looking down in through the open top. I sidled closer to hear what was going on. From what I could gather, the cabinet was solid all the way around. The top was open to the elements and inside was a body. An emergency medical technician –EMT – had dropped down from the branch and couldn’t get out. I circled it, running my hands along the wood and feeling the buzz of magic.
On one knee, in front of one of the panels, was Doc Cameron. From the back, he looked very squat, pudgy and bald. From the front, with the beard and a smile on his face, his cheeks puffed up and he looked like an over pleased, oversized hamster. Hamilton stopped on his left, having walked around the structure from the opposite direction. I looked for another way in.
“Can we just push it over?” he asked.
“No. It’s solid and very heavy. It could crush them. Also consider if any of that glass breaks.” I stood opposite Hamilton and looked down at what the doctor was doing. He tried picking a tiny, bronze lock but failed miserably. He grunted as he pulled a thin piece of wire out of the lock.
“Every time I put it in bent it comes out straight again. It’s the oddest thing.”
“May I try?” I asked. Doc Cameron looked up at me and his face brightened.
“Well hello Cassandra, it’s been a while. Be my guest.” He rocked back on his heels, stood and held out the wire to me. I shook my head, motioning him to step to one side. When it was clear, I placed my hand over the lock and shot power into it. The power shot right back up my arm, which made me leap back and my arm go dead at my side.
“Are you alright?” I flexed my fingers, the sensation already starting to come back.
“I’m fine but the lock is protected by magic. You’re going to need a key.” Hamilton pointed to no one in particular.
“Everyone fan out. Search the ground for a key. Cameron can you check the pockets of her clothes.” Cameron nodded and went to do that while I stared at the panel made of a very dark colored wood with a tiny lock you might see for a jewelry box or an antique desk drawer. There was a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach as my brain replayed my earlier words in my head. I turned to Hamilton, my hand extended.
“Do you still have the envelope I gave you earlier?”
He looked at me puzzled but dutifully slipped it out of his pocket and handed it to me. I shook the contents out into my palm and held up the small brass key. It looked the same. I slid it into the lock and turned. The lock clicked with an audible snick and the door swung open. Hamilton looked at me with wide eyes. He registered the same thoughts I had moments before, like he was on a time delay. My stalker was somehow involved in this death.
It was quite spacious inside. There was enough room for me to creep around the edge and see that the inside panels were lined with full-length mirrors. I looked down at the body. She was a fairly young woman, maybe twenty-five, with short, fluffy blonde hair in that popular bobbed style. She lay in the small space available to her, like she crumpled. She was naked and her skin had a bluish tint to it, her lips the color of early morning sky. Her eyes were shut tight and looked like she was sleeping. The only piece of adornment she had was a diamond necklace with a big, flat gem the color of onyx in the middle. Doc Cameron crawled in to do his job and blocked the exit while I stood watching. Her limbs were stiff and her boobs fake. Her legs looked long, although curled up as they were, it was a little hard to tell. I was fascinated by the jewel around her neck. I asked Cameron for a pair of gloves, which he dutifully provided with a smile, and I bent down next to him. He too, stopped his work and stared at the jewel as it winked and glittered in the light bouncing around the enclosure. There was a very subtle compulsion to take it from her and put it around my own neck. I got the gloves on and slowly telegraphing my intentions to the doc, reached around her neck and unclasped it. I was much more careful this time. I could sense the item was magic and did my best not to brush skin to skin with the dead woman.
As soon as I peeled it free, the cabinet exploded
in a flurry of black dust and vanished. The EMT who’d been leaning against one of the walls suddenly fell on his butt in the grass, shocked. All of us spluttered and coughed. I tried not to breathe any of the dust in. Hamilton and several others fanned the cloud away. I focused on the purple glow from her forehead, registering the symbol that appeared there before vanishing as the cabinet had. Doc Cameron roused himself, too, at the weak burst of light.
“What was that?”
“Proof positive, to me at least, that we are looking at our second homicide in less than a day.”
* * * *
I wasn’t needed much at the crime scene after that. The explosion of dust left a glittered spattering of black over the body and surrounding ground that would compromise things. I didn’t know the cabinet would explode like that when I took the necklace off. Both Hamilton and I checked it, and it appeared very solid. Hamilton called Carson down from the tree. He and his partner, a larger man with a gut a bit like a deflated balloon, took me back to the station. Butcher wasn’t that pleased to see me return, even if the sight of two of his officers escorting me did make his lips twitch.
“Now you let me know if there is anything you need,” said Carson pleasantly. He was a very charming young man with light brown eyes, hair and skin.
“Actually, if I could use a computer for ten minutes that would be great.” He thought about it for a minute.
“Detective Inspector Hamilton did say give you anything you need, and as long as you stay out of the database it should be okay. You can use my desk.” He showed me to a corner where several smaller desks were jammed together with only one computer between them. I guessed the lower down officers had to share. He set me up on it. I didn’t look when he put in his password and left me with the promise of coffee. I brought up the web browser and typed in ‘Seven Deadly Sins’ before hitting enter. I got the same group of result as I did on my laptop, if in a different order, and searched for the page that had been the most helpful before. I printed pages and entered a new search for Chinese characters. Finding all the right ones would mean a lot of copy and pasting. I thanked Carson as he popped a mug down by me. I took a sip of coffee and was sharply reminded how bad police station coffee is. I pushed the cup away and got to work. When I had that list compiled in a word document I printed it too. I made sure to close it all down before getting up and scanning the room for the printer.
Deadly Sin (Cassandra Farbanks) Page 6
