Carnival

by Kory M. Shrum

  “It isn’t like we’ve been having secret sleepovers and not inviting you,” King said. The urge to add cream and sugar to his coffee rose, but he batted the temptation away. He was trying to keep his diet clean until Fat Tuesday. He’d promised himself a box of paczkis if he could manage it.

  “Okay. Fine. But I don’t like it when you guys don’t tell me things.” Piper openly pouted now. “It makes me feel like I’m not part of the team.”

  King laughed. “What are you talking about? Of course you’re part of the team.”

  Lou was watching the girl with a curious expression. Then she said, “She asked me about you.”

  Piper visibly perked up. “Really? What did she say?”

  “How’s Piper.”

  Piper inched forward. “And what did you say?”

  Lou shrugged in her leather jacket. “I said you were fine.”

  King didn’t understand the look of disappointment crossing Piper’s face.

  Lou’s frown suggested she didn’t either. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

  King crossed the office, skirting around the puppy pile, and took his seat behind his desk once more. “Honestly, we just ask her to make phone calls or fact-check for us.”

  Piper stood from the floor, brushing invisible dirt off her knees. “Speaking of phone calls, Planned Parenthood called me back to let me know my STD tests were clean.”

  She scowled at Lou.

  “Why did you give them this number?” King folded the paper again and placed it on the corner of his desk, out of the way. He was searching for a coaster for his coffee. Maybe he would find it faster if he weren’t trying to sip his coffee at the same time.

  Lou shrugged. “I used Piper’s name to get an STD test.”

  King choked on his coffee. Neither of the women seemed to notice.

  “It was smart going to the Baton Rouge clinic. They would’ve recognized you here.” Piper clasped her hands behind her head. “And I’m all for protecting your anonymity, babe, but now my sex history is all messed up. Do you know how long it took me to convince them I don’t need birth control?”

  “Why don’t you need birth control?” Lou asked, deadpan.

  “Do you know how lesbians have sex, Louie? Do you need a diagram?”

  Lou’s lips twitched. “Maybe.”

  “Why are you worried about being clean?” King asked. Then, as if hearing the words that had just come out of his mouth, “None of my business, is it?”

  He found a coaster from Richard’s Crab Shack and put his mug on it.

  “It’s not a sex thing,” Piper said. “I convinced her to get the tests because she’s always fighting these guys with open wounds. They bleed. She bleeds. It’s just cross-contamination. Don’t make that face. This is a good thing! It took me two months to convince her to get these tests.”

  “Congrats on your bill of health.” For some reason King was relieved.

  “Yeah,” Piper agreed. “But that doesn’t exonerate you from keeping Dani a secret. I feel like you’ve been cheating on me.”

  Lou reached out and placed a hand on the back of Piper’s neck. Piper’s face reddened by three shades, but her shoulders visibly relaxed.

  “Okay,” Piper said finally, as if Lou had spoken. “Yeah, I’m being dumb.”

  King watched them smile at each other. Lou slowly took her hand off the back of Piper’s neck, and it gave him the distinct impression he’d missed something.

  A strange warmth spread through his chest. Lucy would love this, he thought. Lou with a friend her own age would’ve made her happy beyond belief. Not that she’d believed her niece incapable of friendship. But how often had Lucy expressed in those last months of her life that she’d worried about Lou being alone?

  If she isn’t connected to anyone, what will she do once I’m dead, Robert? She’ll only have her revenge. I don’t want that for her.

  King had done his best to assure his wife that he would look out for Louie after she was gone. But watching Piper and Lou together now, both playfully rubbing down the dog on the floor, King knew he’d had no part of this, not really.

  King turned over his watch and realized what time it was. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the shop?”

  Piper quit baby-talking the dog and shrugged. “Mel told me to go home.”

  “Wasn’t it busy?”

  “Yeah, and she spent the morning in bed with a headache. But when she got up she told me she had it covered and sent me home.”

  Interesting. “She seems okay to you?”

  She shrugged. “Don’t you need me to do something around here?”

  King saw hesitation flutter across her face. He could press harder about Mel or he could drop it. Maybe it was nothing but her lingering insecurity about Dani. He made a mental note to check in on Mel later, just to be sure. To Piper he said, “You got homework?”

  “That’s the thing about asynchronous online courses, man. I can do my work whenever I want, and no, I’m caught up for this week. I worked ahead thinking I was going to be too busy during Carnival.”

  King pointed at the empty desk across from him. “I’ll send you the witness reports for the Henderson case. Can you get them organized by timeline for me?”

  “Can I?” she huffed.

  King let this slide, understanding that he could expect more of such comments until Piper forgave him for this Dani blunder. “And then I’ll have you make some phone calls.”

  “Sure you don’t want Dani to make the calls?”

  King tilted his head.

  “All right, all right.” Piper gave Lady one last pat, retrieved her bag from the floor, and crossed to the desk.

  Lou stood, tugging at the end of her leather jacket as if it had ridden up. She met King’s gaze. “Any updates for me?”

  He gave her a quick once-over, hoping he wasn’t being obvious.

  But she looked good. Her face had more color these days and the bags under her eyes were gone. He suspected that she was finally getting some sleep after months of insomnia.

  Not that he could judge. Lucy’s death had laid him to waste too.

  For a month after her passing, he’d slipped back into his drinking habit, his shitty eating, and deep depression. It had taken him months to get back on the horse of clean living.

  Melandra had taken such good care of him in the wake of Lucy’s death. He wasn’t exactly sure what he would’ve done without her insisting that he eat, sleep, and take a goddamn shower.

  He hoped he could repay her one day.

  The detective agency had also helped. Work had always been his preferred form of escapism. Between that and a renewed mission to look after Lou—the last piece of Lucy left on this planet—King had managed to cobble together a decent reason for living, as old and tired as he was.

  He opened his desk drawer and grabbed the napkinned bundle resting between a stapler and a wad of rubber bands. He unwrapped the bologna and cheese sandwich he’d packed that morning and leaned back in his chair.

  “Both the videotapes and the witnesses you delivered were crucial to closing the Wilkins case. It was pivotal. We won it.”

  Lou didn’t even acknowledge the praise.

  King took a big bite of his sandwich. He spoke around the lettuce filling his cheeks. “How’d you get Charise to talk?”

  Lou did smile now, a gentle tug on the right side of her lips. “Trade secret.”

  “The jury lapped up her story. The guy’s going to jail for at least twenty years, and that’s with parole and good behavior.”

  “They should kill him,” Piper said without looking away from her laptop. “Eighteen little girls walled up in his basement. Christ. But no. Just because the judge thought he was a ‘good Christian man,’ they let his ass go. So freaking gross.”

  “I might pay him a visit,” Lou said with a sinister smile. This one reached her eyes.

  King imagined her stepping from the shadows and wrapping her fingers around Devaroe’s throat. A sq
uat, middle-aged man with a hooked, warty nose, no doubt he would squeal like a pig at the sight of her.

  “Speaking of crazy bastards, did you get rid of Miller?” Piper asked.

  Lou answered without turning around. Her eyes remained on King. “Two days ago.”

  Piper shuddered, making her chair creak. “Good. I can sleep better knowing that guy isn’t out there doing God only knows what.”

  “Bothered you, did he?” King asked between bites.

  Piper gave him a disgusted look. “He hunted blond women.” She paused in typing long enough to point at her own hair. “Tortured them for days in his soundproof apartment, and then when they died from the torture, he fucked their corpses. Sometimes for weeks. Hell yeah I’m glad he’s dead. I just don’t understand how he was allowed to go free in the first place.”

  “Hung jury,” King said, sucking mayo off his thumb.

  “Because of his girlfriend’s testimony. How could she lie like that?”

  “Maybe she loved him.”

  Piper scoffed. “If I found out my partner was sexing up corpses, that would be a hard pass for me. Thank you, next.”

  “He had a corpse in his apartment when I took him,” Lou said, sliding her shades back down on her eyes.

  King started. “Did he?”

  “No way.” Piper gaped over the top of the computer.

  “I left the front door open so it would be noticed. The smell should annoy someone.”

  King opened his web browser and did a preliminary search. “The story hasn’t broken yet. You should tell Dani. She’d love to be the one to drop that bomb.”

  Piper made a noise behind them that sounded suspiciously like a repressed scream.

  Lou pivoted away from Piper and mouthed I already did for King’s eyes alone.

  Aloud she said, “I found a new target.”

  King glanced up from his computer. “Really? Using your compass thingy?” He made a circular motion over his chest.

  King would be the first to admit he didn’t fully understand what Lou called her compass, only that it was somehow connected to her ability to travel through the dark. In a way, it made sense to him that if Lou couldn’t see where she was going, she would feel places instead. But it wasn’t only limited to places, was it? She could also target people or even ideas, including Where is a serial murderer?

  “I’ve been following him for a few days. He’s good at hiding in plain sight, but he’s definitely a target.”

  “What do you know so far?”

  “His name is Jeffrey Fish. He lives in Mount Vernon, Ohio, with a wife and son.”

  “How’d you get his name?”

  “I went through the mail in his mailbox.”

  “That’s a federal offense,” King said, but he was impressed. “Anything else?”

  Lou stood and slipped two fingers into the back pocket of her jeans. She pulled out a folded square piece of paper and handed it over to King, who leaned forward to retrieve it.

  He sank back into the office chair, brushing crumbs off his lips. He unfolded the piece of paper and first read the plate number and address for Fish off the upper corner. But below that was a photocopy of a driver’s license.

  He read aloud, “Jennifer McGrath.”

  “She works at a grocery store near his house,” Lou explained.

  “And he’s stalking her?” Piper asked. She came around the desk to look at the photo. “She’s pretty.”

  King frowned at the photocopy in his hands. “How did you get a photocopy of her driver’s license?”

  “I took it from her purse while she was sleeping.”

  “And just hop-skip-jumped to a Kinko’s or something?” Piper marveled. “Damn, you’re cool.”

  The corner of Lou’s lips tilted up.

  “I told you no contact,” King said. Realizing that he sounded like the petulant father he most certainly was not, he sighed. “If she knows she’s being followed she could panic. Or at the very least, she could tip him off by acting differently. Or Fish could see you.”

  Lou wasn’t smiling now. Her hard stare made the hairs on his arms rise.

  “Women aren’t stupid,” Lou said. “Most of them.”

  “Yeah,” Piper added companionably. “We are actually much better at staying alive than men are, thank you very much.”

  “We’re talking about human behavior, and we talked about this…”

  Boy had they talked about this. King had tried every line of reasoning his mind could conjure to control Lou’s happy-go-lucky trigger finger. True, it had been her idea to hunt serial killers who’d escaped the system. She wanted to bring retribution to the men who thought themselves apex predators above the law.

  And Lou had been damn good at it, with that unnatural gift of hers combined with an unshakable aim. She’d already picked through six killers before he’d had a chance to explain due process to her.

  Yes, you can simply appear and murder these men where they stand, and who could stop you? But think of the families. They want closure. They need it the same way you needed closure for your dad.

  That had slowed her down.

  But catching her prey alive wasn’t Lou’s natural inclination, and they both knew it. It just wasn’t how she liked to do things. And the learning curve had been steep.

  She crossed her arms, King’s first real sign of trouble. “Fish is alive, and he hasn’t seen me.”

  King shifted in his seat, trying to ease the pressure in his hip. “We just need him to fuck up. That’s all. And this will help us get a better sense of what’s going on and develop a connection between them.” He held up the photocopy of the woman’s driver’s license. “Thank you.”

  He and Lou had begun a dangerous game—two games, actually. One hunt was tailored for men like Jeffrey Fish. These men could still be prosecuted. They could be convicted of their crimes, and those convictions could let parents and spouses and children rest easier knowing justice was served.

  But then there was the other hunt. When a monster didn’t qualify for the prosecute file, King considered him for the execute file.

  He’d grappled with that a lot at first. Who was he to sentence men to death? Who was he to decide who deserved a one-way trip to La Loon—Louie’s dumping ground?

  He convinced himself that his candidates were only men like Miller—who had a high chance of reoffending and had somehow escaped retribution. By taking care of the men the system had freed, they were saving lives.

  Weren’t they?

  “Guys like Devaroe and Miller have beat the system. There’s no way to make them pay for what they’ve done. So they’re fair game. But someone like Fish—there’s still a chance to make it right,” he said. He sounded defensive to his own ears. “Who knows how many women he’s killed and families he’s destroyed? We’re doing this for them.”

  Lou sighed. “Miller was the last one from the list you gave me. Who else have you got?”

  You need something to hold you over, he thought. Fine.

  He opened his desk drawer and removed the insert. His fingers searched the bare metal bottom beneath. After a moment of groping he found a folded-up piece of paper.

  He pulled it out and—feeling a little like a drug dealer—extended it toward her across the desk. She took it, opened it up, read the names. She said nothing. She only slipped the sheet of paper into her back pocket, where the photocopy of McGrath’s license had been moments before.

  Then she lifted the slate gray urn from the edge of his desk and smiled.

  “I miss her,” King said, falling back against the chair. “So shoot me.”

  He brought Lucy to work with him every day.

  “Don’t tempt me,” Lou said. Without the smile, King couldn’t tell if she was joking.

  “I think it’s sweet,” Piper said, typing away. “Nothing wrong with wanting to keep Lucy close. I like to think she watches over us.”

  Lou turned the urn in her hand as if reading something. But King had inspect
ed that container enough to know there were no words on it.

  She returned it to the desk without comment.

  “Be careful out there,” King said, sensing the imminent goodbye.

  But Lou lingered.

  She turned to face him, squaring her body. “If Fish makes a move before we get this so-called evidence, I won’t hesitate. I’m not going to let her corpse be the evidence we need for a case.”

  King opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.

  Lou was already opening the storage closet marked Ms. Thorne and stepping inside. The door shut with a ringing finality.

  Piper caught his eye across the room. “Don’t look at me, man. You know she does whatever the hell she wants.”

  A feeling of unease grew in King’s stomach. “Yeah, she does.”

  7

  Mel turned counterclockwise in the storeroom again, glancing from her makeshift list to the shelves. The closet smelled like old cardboard and incense. At the back of the room was a black safe with silver embellishments. It stood as tall as she did.

  She lifted a box from the shelves and counted the remaining sugar skulls. She scribbled on the list. They were burning through their inventory—not that Mel was complaining. It was good that sales were high. It only meant that she would have to place another order today and pray it arrived in time. Slipping the pen and paper into the folds of her skirt—they had hidden pockets that she’d sewn in herself—she flicked off the light and exited the storeroom.

  The store had a few more patrons than when she’d entered. Piper was showing two men the selection of Fortunes and Fixes hoodies, holding one against the taller man’s chest.

  Several girls crowded around the incense stand, slipping long sticks into their plastic bags. Another couple were fingering the beads, chatting excitedly to each other about having survived Bourbon Street the night before.

  Oh my god, she walked four blocks before she realized her skirt was tucked into her panties!

  He puked for three hours. I swear to God, I thought he was dying.

  There’s a reason they call them hurricanes.

  Mel was about to circle the shop with the perfunctory “Finding everything all right?” when the two young men shifted, revealing someone else.