Carnival

by Kory M. Shrum

  There had been a few, before they’d begun—whatever it was they had now.

  But she wasn’t sleeping in anyone else’s bed, braless. She wasn’t taking showers with them or wearing their black sweats. And most importantly, she went to no one else—save the old detective in New Orleans—when she needed help.

  It was more than that.

  She chooses me when she dreams, he thought, watching her breathe beside him. What are dreams but our deepest desires?

  Don’t rush her, man. She’s like a cat. She’s going to love you on her terms.

  That, at least, Konstantine had agreed with. The girl, despite her American slang, had seemed very wise in her text messages. It contrasted with her sweet, angelic face. She looked like a child when standing next to Lou.

  He recalled the way the girl had looked, laughing, hanging off of Lou’s shoulder in the ballroom. What a contrast. Lou, somber and imperial. The girl blond, smiling, and infused with girlish radiance. Proserpina in her two forms.

  Konstantine traced the line of her jaw with his gaze, down her throat to the small hollow there. He longed to touch it with his lips.

  A sound over his right shoulder caught his ear. He turned and saw Vittoria in the doorway. She beckoned him forward.

  As silently as he could, he slipped from the bed, pausing to regard Lou once more.

  He pulled the door closed behind him.

  Vittoria was in a red dressing gown. Her face had been wiped of its makeup, and she looked her age now.

  “Mi stavi guardando?” Konstantine asked as she settled into a leather chair. Were you watching me?

  “I have cameras everywhere in this house.”

  “I know.” Konstantine had wired into her system before ever agreeing to stay at her villa.

  “Clever boy.” Vittoria grinned. “Imagine my surprise when a woman appeared in your bed. Does that happen often?”

  “Why are you speaking in English?” Konstantine asked, and settled into the leather armchair across from her.

  “I need to practice,” she purred, turning her glass in the light. She flicked her eyes up to meet his. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Don’t worry about her,” Konstantine said.

  “I worry about everything that happens in my home. In my city. Italy. The world. To be a woman in this business you have to worry twice as much as the men,” she said with a playful pout. “How lucky you were to be born with a dick, fratello.”

  Konstantine didn’t rise to her bait.

  “If she can appear and disappear like in the rumors, I wonder what else may be true.” Vittoria rose from her seat and crossed to Konstantine. She sat down on his lap, perching on his knee. “Te la sei scopata?”

  Konstantine frowned up at her. “Greggia.”

  She laughed. Then in English, “If you haven’t, you certainly want to. I see it in your eyes. Do you own her then? Have you made her love you? Is that why she seeks you out in the night like some vampira?”

  “She doesn’t love me.” Despite the sinking in his chest, he felt he’d spoken the truth.

  Vittoria clucked her tongue. “A shame. With Fernando Martinelli as a father you should be better at this.”

  * * *

  Lou woke when the door creaked shut. The small sound pulled her straight from her dreams. She couldn’t remember what she’d been dreaming of—something about a car sinking through red waters and a monster that waited outside its windows to snap her up.

  Lou sat up, taking inventory of the room. She was in a high four-post bed. On the right were floor-to-ceiling shutters, latched tight. Dim light squeezed through the slats, cascading over the uneven tiled floor. Against the far wall, an armoire twice her size sagged.

  She didn’t recognize the room or its furniture. But she knew the smell that lingered on the pillows around her, on the sheets.

  Voices carried from somewhere outside the room, and she saw the light under the door. She slid from the high bed, feeling her bare feet press into the cold tiled floor.

  At the door, she grabbed the handle and turned it ever so slightly. She held her breath, as if that might somehow dampen the sound.

  Fortunately, the door did not creak, and through the crack she could see the large expanse of a living room. A soft fire crackled against the far wall. Framing it were two armchairs facing one another.

  Even without the white peacock costume, Lou recognized the woman immediately. She sat sprawled on one of the leather armchairs with a glass of wine in hand. Then she rose, crossed the room, and sat on Konstantine’s lap.

  The movement obscured her view of his face, of his reaction to the woman. But she saw what he didn’t do—push her off, move her away, demand that she stop.

  Why should he? she asked herself. If this is what is required to make a business deal, why stop now?

  Yet there was an intense heat building in her face.

  She backed away from the door the way one moves away from the sparking wick of a stick of dynamite. Then through the darkness, she was gone.

  26

  After failing to sleep in her own bed, Lou put on jeans, her guns, and her leather jacket. She grabbed her mirrored sunglasses off the counter and stepped into her linen closet once more.

  This really was the only way to deal with a restless night.

  The scent of cedar swelled around her, and she pressed her back against the wooden wall.

  Through the dark she searched for her target—Fish. And like anyone, Fish had his usual haunts. He went to work at the high school. He favored the grocery near his house. He worked in the garage and took his son to the park.

  But Lou’s compass didn’t direct her to any of these destinations.

  When the dark opened around her, she was in the forest. Pine sap stuck to her fingers as she clung to the tree. Her boots settled on dried needles. Clouds moving across the sky dappled the moonlight, causing the shadows to sway and swell like water across the ground.

  For a horrible heartbeat, Lou thought Fish might be behind her. Ready for her.

  But then she heard a grunt, a small, muffled cry.

  The clouds moved and moonlight spilled over Jeffrey Fish’s hunched body.

  There was no victim. No struggle as she had feared. It was only Jeffrey on his knees, pants down.

  She moved closer silently, careful not to betray her approach with a snapping twig or shifting rock. His erection was in his hand as he furiously pumped it up and down. Sweat stood out on his brow as his eyes rolled closed.

  Lou could smell the death from here. It wasn’t unlike passing roadkill on a hot summer day, mixed with the scent of overturned earth. She didn’t need to look into the grave to know what she would see. By the smell of the corpse, she didn’t think it was the grocer, who she’d checked on just that afternoon.

  She suspected it was someone else. Someone killed recently.

  Rage welled within her. She drew her gun before she knew what she was doing.

  Shoot him. Shoot him and kick his corpse into this grave and be done with all this bullshit. Broken systems and stupid rules that no one plays by. End it. End it now.

  No! This was Aunt Lucy’s cry. Think of the families. Think of the families who’ll never know what happened. Who will lie awake at night and pray for news, any news, to get past the horrible limbo of uncertainty.

  Gritting her teeth, Lou raised her boot and kicked out. Fish cried out, falling forward into the grave. She peered in, watching his scramble on top of the corpse.

  By the time he managed to spit the soil from his mouth and begin screaming, Lou was already gone.

  * * *

  King woke when his bedroom light clicked on. Lou stood over his bed, scowling at him. He squinted up at her, his heart rocketing in his chest.

  “What?”

  “He’s killed again,” she said. The coldness in her voice echoed through his bones.

  King sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “Who?”

  “Fish killed someone.” />
  “How?”

  “I wasn’t there,” Lou said in that same flat tone. “I suspect he tortured her then fucked her like the others. He was certainly masturbating over her grave—”

  “Christ.”

  “I want to take him now. I’ll keep him somewhere until you can build your case.”

  King looked at her. Again, her face betrayed nothing. It was better to listen to her voice, which at least gave a hint of the fury raging inside her.

  “We can’t take him to court if you do that. Him missing will only complicate the case.”

  She rolled her shoulders in her jacket. It was the first real threat of aggression he’d seen from her. “He killed someone and we didn’t stop him.”

  King glanced at the urn on the side table. What do I tell her?

  Reason with her. She’s smart.

  “Fine,” Lou said. “Then let’s expose him. I’ll take them to the grave where he was jerking off. With his DNA, that might be enough to get the conviction.”

  “But not enough to tie him to the other cases.”

  “That’s what the photos are for.”

  “We can’t use the photos without a warrant to obtain them lawfully. And we can’t get that if we don’t have a reason to go into his house. They’ll want to know how we know about the grave. We’d have to fabricate witnesses that we don’t have or who might lose their cool during cross interrogation. The system requires—”

  “Your system is broken,” Lou said, and here her face contorted. As much as it frightened King to see it, in a way, it was a relief. When he had no idea what she was thinking in that dark mind of hers, he found it all the more difficult to respond.

  “I know you’re frustrated. I am too. I didn’t want any more women to die either,” he said, trying to wipe at his dry, tacky mouth. “But we don’t have enough to convict. Not a white high school teacher from suburbia. At the very least we need the DNA.”

  “Go to the grave and get it.”

  King pinched his eyes shut. He wasn’t awake enough for this. What time was it? It was just past midnight. He’d barely gotten a single REM cycle before she’d showed up. Now he was likely to spend the night tossing, turning, and blaming himself for a murder they might have prevented if they’d been quicker.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s not that easy. I’m not even an agent anymore. I’m not sanctioned by any agency. I can’t just show up in someone’s jurisdiction and point a finger at Fish and say he did it.”

  His ears popped and he opened his eyes.

  Lou was gone.

  Groaning, he fell back against his pillow. He reached out and found the edge of the urn with his fingers. “I’m doing the best I can,” he whispered.

  Yes, but is it enough?

  27

  Dani watched Piper reach into her bag and pull out several items. “You have your toothbrush with you. That’s convenient.”

  “Never know when you’re going to need to brush your teeth.” She hoped her smile looked easy and not the least bit guilty. She didn’t want to mention that she’d packed it yesterday in case she went home with Scarlett. In addition to the collapsible travel toothbrush, her small tin box included a small bottle of face wash, deodorant, hair ties, and clean underwear.

  Piper hadn’t packed pajamas, but she could sleep in her t-shirt and boxers. The only problem was, as she stood in the doorway to Dani’s bedroom with her face scrubbed and teeth brushed, she wasn’t sure where she was supposed to sleep.

  She watched Dani pull back one side of the sheets and lift a pillow.

  “Am I sleeping on the couch or—?” Piper asked. Don’t shuffle awkwardly. You look stupid.

  To Piper’s relief, Dani was visibly disappointed. “Oh. You can if you want to.”

  Piper couldn’t suppress her grin. “Or I could sleep here.”

  She grabbed the other side of the sheets and turned them down.

  Dani’s cheeks reddened. “Do you want a glass of water? I like to have a glass of water.”

  “Sure.” Piper slipped into the bed and pulled the sheets over her lap. She arranged and rearranged them, trying to decide where they lay best.

  Stop it, she chided herself. Nothing’s going to happen. You don’t need to look sexy in her bed.

  She’d thought they were heading in that direction with their make-out sessions in the stockroom, before Dmitri almost killed them, of course.

  Dani reappeared with the waters and a shy smile on her face. “I hope that no ice is okay.”

  “It’s great. Thanks.”

  Dani handed the glass over. “You know, I was so nervous about you coming over, but now that you’re here I feel so much better. I feel safe—”

  The closet door opened and Lou stepped into the room.

  Dani yelped in surprise, dropping her water glass.

  Lou stopped where she stood, one hand on the handle.

  “Christ, Lou!” Piper threw back the covers. “Warn us!”

  Dani’s hand was over her heart as she stared down at the water on the hardwood floor. “I’m going to get a towel.”

  She stumbled from the room, out of sight.

  “Was I interrupting something?” Lou frowned at the water.

  “No. I mean, yes. But not that. Man, she’s got PTSD from Dmitri—you can’t just pop into her bedroom at night like that.”

  “She’s never minded before.”

  Piper’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  Dani reappeared and gave Lou an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry I screamed. Usually I feel the ear-pop thing when you show up. Obviously I wasn’t paying attention.”

  Piper swallowed. “Would you say you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve had chats in darkened bedrooms? I’m just curious.”

  Dani blotted at the water on the floor. “I wasn’t counting.”

  Piper sucked her teeth. “On one hand or two, would you say?”

  Dani refolded the towel. “We only talk about work. Except yesterday when she told me I should give you a call. That was a first.”

  Two people can play at this game, Piper thought.

  She raised her chin defiantly. “Yeah, well, I’ve been texting Konstantine.”

  Lou smiled. “He’s probably scraped your phone of all its data and is tracking you now.”

  Piper placed a hand on her hip. “You don’t know that.”

  Dani stood with the soaked rag in her hand. “You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important. What happened?”

  “Fish killed a woman.”

  Piper sank onto the bed. “Oh shit, the grocer?”

  “No. It was someone else. The corpse was…fresh, but not that fresh.”

  Piper glanced at Dani. When they’d told her that Dani had been helping them verify details of the case, Piper had imagined that meant Google searches or well-placed calls. She hadn’t realized that Dani was so thoroughly entangled in the entire process.

  The jealousy made her throat tight. The problem was, she couldn’t be sure what she was jealous about. Lou and Dani’s working relationship? Or was she feeling left out again?

  “So we know nothing about this woman,” Piper said, determined to be part of this.

  “We don’t know it was a woman,” Dani said.

  “The corpse was wearing a blue floral top,” Lou offered. “And we know Fish hunts women.”

  “What did King say?”

  Piper scoffed. “How do you know that she’s even spoken to King about it?”

  “He’s worried about jurisdiction.”

  Dani frowned. “If the bodies are found, won’t that activate jurisdiction?”

  “First someone has to discover them.”

  Piper placed her hands on her hip. “Should I just go make coffee? Or am I included in this conversation?”

  They both looked at her. Lou frowned. “Of course you’re included.”

  Dani patted the bed beside her. “Come here. We’ll hatch our plan together.”

  Som
ething about her sweet voice or the way she tilted her chin down ever so slightly when she called Piper closer was enough to soothe that ache in her chest.

  Piper settled onto the bed beside Dani. Dani fished a pair of glasses out of her side table and slipped them on.

  She caught Piper’s eyes. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I’ve never seen you in glasses. It’s hot. You look like Lois Lane.”

  “Thanks.” Dani blushed. She flicked her eyes up to meet Lou’s. “So we need someone to find the bodies. Then what?”

  28

  King pulled the tab on his diet soda and listened to it crack and fizz. With the long week behind him, he settled into his red leather couch and groped for the remote. He hadn’t decided what he wanted to do for dinner yet. The grocery shopping hadn’t happened as he’d hoped.

  He’d pushed to have the last bit of work done before leaving the office at six that evening, hoping for a weekend of no paperwork.

  Piper’s check was written, tucked into an envelope and slid under her apartment door. He’d wrapped up four outstanding cases, closing out their invoices. He emailed his other clients and gave them updates.

  The frantic, high energy of Carnival hadn’t helped. All that frivolity in the Quarter seemed to permeate his skin like humidity. He needed this quiet weekend to recharge, even if true rejuvenation wouldn’t be possible until after the festivities.

  He enjoyed the feeling tremendously. Organization, order, progression grounded his life in a way that few other things could. He still remembered his arrival in New Orleans and those first boozy, restless months. Now he understood how ridiculous the notion had been—that he would simply pass a quiet retirement in a city like New Orleans.

  Whether or not he’d known it at the time, he’d come to the city to drink himself to death.

  He’d told himself that it was to relax and enjoy the lively atmosphere. He was half convinced it was for the food and for the bars. That should’ve been his first warning sign. He could’ve chosen a golf community in Florida or even a beach house in North Carolina. But no, he’d chosen one of the most crime-ridden cities in the US.