A Perjury of Owls

by Michael Angel

We said it at the same time: “Henna.”

  “Right,” Esteban agreed. “Say it’s henna paste. This really is chueco, then. Why would anyone put temporary tattoos on a body designed to send a gang-related message?”

  “Maybe it’s not the message we think,” I murmured. Vega looked at me, ready to ask what I meant, but Esteban knew how my mind worked. He caught Vega’s glance and held up a hand, telling her to wait. To let me sort out a hunch.

  I moved back up to the body’s head, grabbing a hunk of the shoulder length hair. It was oil-slick black, except for the bizarre three inches at the end. I’d caught the faintest whiff of something sweet, buried under the layers of odor that surrounded the corpse. The only out-of-place thing I saw that matched the out-of-place scent were these neon-blue highlights.

  I lowered my nose to take a cautious sniff of the dyed strands, closing my eyes to try and make sense of it. I got a soapy, almost coconut smell that I dismissed as conditioner base. The sweet undertone wafted back again, and I locked onto it.

  It was syrupy, but not grassy or woody, like sugarcane from a tropical field. This was straight-up refined sugar. My mind jumped from cookie batter mix, to caramel, then to movie candy. Halloween candy, the cheap kind. From cool fall to warm summer days, little children playing out at the kiddie pool, coming in hot and sweaty and wanting a glass of something that tasted red and sweet and came out of a fat glass pitcher…

  My mind did one of its little clicks.

  “Well, I’ll be,” I said, with a shake of my head. “I should have known.”

  Chapter Three

  The origin of the syrupy-sweet scent finally coalesced in my mind.

  “That’s flavored drink mix,” I said. “You know, the powdered stuff moms used to mix up and serve the kids. It all tasted the same, only the colors were different.”

  Esteban snorted. “Are you kidding?”

  “Nope. And I think I know what we’re seeing here.” I let the hank of blue hair fall from my fingers as I continued. “You can dye your hair bright colors by using drink mix powder and conditioner instead of water. It’s cheap, and it’s gotten awfully popular lately with one particular group: the rave party crowd.”

  “So you think our guy wasn’t a gang member…but he liked late night drug parties?”

  “I’d stake a couple of paychecks on it,” I agreed, as I stood up. “Not all raves cater to the hard drug crowd, but I’ve seen more than one body like this. I’m guessing that you have a new underground rave drug club in town, and they’re really scared right now.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because of the traces of vomit, along with that ‘message’ we found. This poor guy either outright overdosed, or choked to death. Say that the organizers of the party find him, can’t revive him. What would you do, if you’re panicked and need to dispose of a body like this?”

  Vega got up in turn, her lips pressed into a tight grin. “If I knew someone who could do henna tats, I’d have them come up with some gangster-related designs, and then leave the corpse in a way that makes it look like it’s a gang-related murder, not an OD at a rave party. Keeps the heat off them, puts it somewhere else.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking,” I agreed, as I began to pull off my gloves. “This is a crime…but it’s one crime that’s disguised to look like another, completely different one.”

  Vega gave me a new look, one that seemed surprised and impressed at the same time. “Looks like Esteban wasn’t just making noise.”

  “I don’t make noise,” Esteban pointed out. “Not when it comes to Dayna’s talents. I’ll ask our friends in the Narcotics unit what they’ve been seeing out in this area.”

  “And I’ll go put in a call to the OME. I need someone else to bag and tag this body for your investigation.”

  “You plan to take some samples before then?”

  “Not this time,” I said. “I’ll have them do it at the lab.”

  Esteban glanced at me, puzzled. “Is that the new SOP now?”

  “Just today.” I stashed the gloves in a separate biohazard waste bag, then offered it to Vega. “Isabel, I have to speak with Esteban for a moment. I’ll send him back to you in a bit.”

  “No problem,” she said, as she peeled off her gloves and poked them into the bag. “It’s not exactly like our raver friend is going anywhere.”

  I took back the Pentax from Esteban, stashing it and the used bag in my crime scene gear case, locked it up, and lugged it back to the OME van. Esteban followed me as we crunched back through the brittle underbrush.

  The van’s rear doors opened with a creak. I put away the case and sat on the bumper to start unlacing my stompy boots. Esteban took a seat next to me before he spoke.

  “So, what’s on your mind? Except for one thing – that being anything related to Andeluvia – you can say it in front of Isabel.”

  “Just that one thing?” I asked. “What exactly have you been sharing with your ‘partner’?”

  “Oh, tips and techniques, that sort of thing.” I made as if to elbow him, and he laughed. “Kidding, kidding. Come on, I’m not going to share that with a ‘partner’, no matter what gender they are.” He stopped and looked at me. “You weren’t serious, were you?”

  “No, not really. Okay, maybe a little,” I admitted, as I put away my boots and unzipped the shapeless protective suit. “She’s a good-looking woman.”

  “You’re a good-looking woman.”

  “You’re a flatterer.” I still liked hearing that, though. “I suppose that a small part of me wishes you’d said something about getting a partner like her.”

  “Dayna…” He rolled his eyes.

  “I know, I know. Don’t worry, I don’t want to go over that ground again, I swear.”

  “Maybe we can call it even. You can be a little mad that I didn’t tell you about Isabel, and I can be a little mad that you didn’t tell me about going on one-third time to get more involved with that other world.”

  Now I smiled. “That’s the best bargain I’ve heard all week, bar none. Deal.”

  “Good. And speaking of our secret fantasy world, I’m hoping that they can cut you some slack this weekend. I’ve still got that nice evening out planned, if you’re interested.”

  Alanzo had suggested this to me a few days ago. I’d eagerly circled the date on my day planner, first in pencil, and then in bright blue permanent marker.

  “Oh, that?” I smiled to myself as I tried to keep my tone offhanded. “Yes, I suppose I can make time. I’m glad you said something, it might have slipped my mind.”

  He threw me a glance to see if I was still kidding around, but I was poker-faced. “Yes, glad I did…I was hoping for last weekend, but it just wasn’t going to happen. I got trapped working the door for the hordes of ‘trick or treaters’ that showed up at my tía’s place.”

  “I was pretty busy that weekend too,” I said.

  That was a bit of a dodge. I’d actually planted myself in bed for Halloween. I ignored the holiday and spent the time sleeping, recovering from a week’s worth of depression and insomnia over the recent events at the Reykajar aerie.

  I’d used up the next day being grilled by Fitzwilliam’s court. I don’t think I won any hearts or minds among the Andeluvian nobility, but that didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would have. I’d gotten a victory of the kind that I truly treasured – when Grimshaw and I had reconciled over the same events. I needed the big lunk of a bird-lion more than I cared to admit.

  And there was one more thing that happened. Something that wouldn’t be resolved until this very afternoon.

  “In fact,” I added, “you were right. About why I needed to speak to you privately.”

  “Andeluvia.” At least he didn’t say it like a curse word.

  I nodded. “They need me there for the rest of the day, so I can’t stick around to finish the crime-scene work.”

  He seemed to chew this over in his mind, then nodded. “You have to take care of w
hat you need to, Dayna. We’ll manage here.”

  I squeezed his hand one more time, then watched his retreating form as he walked back into the tall grass to confer with his officers. I got my regular shoes back on, closed up the van’s rear doors, then slipped into the driver’s seat. The glass greenhouse of the van’s windshield had turned the cabin into a steel-and-fabric sauna, so I quickly cranked down the windows to get some air. Then I located my phone and put a call in to the OME’s admin center.

  It took me a few moments to navigate through the automated call menu until I got the department admin who normally handled the schedule.

  “Naomi, it’s Dayna,” I said. “Looks like I’ll need to call in the schedule transfer like we talked about. Definitely need a bag and tag.”

  The sound of rustling papers. “Gotcha. Looks like I’ll have to pull Myun-Hee from en route to Durham Boulevard. I’ll let his boss know. Martinez won’t be pleased, but we have to do it.”

  That surprised me. “I thought that Shelly Richardson’s people were covering this shift.”

  “They are, but Martinez is supervising today. Didn’t you hear? Richardson’s still out.”

  “Still out?” A chill went down my spine. “She’s called in sick…what, three, four days ago?”

  “Think so,” Naomi replied, in a disinterested voice. “To be honest, I haven’t had time to check the records.”

  “Did she leave a message or anything?”

  “I don’t see anything. Actually, she hasn’t even called in sick past that first day. After that… she just didn’t show.” A beep sounded in the background. “Whoops, I’ve got a call on another line, is there anything else you need?”

  “Not now, thanks.” The line clicked off, leaving my head spinning for a moment.

  Shelly rarely if ever called in sick. But then, she’d been present at the standoff between Deputy Chief Robert McClatchy and a young, magically gifted pooka by the name of Destry. I was sure the mind-bending powers Destry used on Bob had somehow affected her mental stability. She’d been out every now and then for the past month, but never for this long.

  I needed to follow this up. But, dammit, I needed to be in Andeluvia this afternoon, or my time there could very well be forfeit. I hated to do it, but I turned the ignition key to get the van’s motor running and promised myself that I’d check on Shelly the very next morning.

  Forty minutes later, I got the van parked inside the garage. The roll up door hadn’t even touched the driveway before I locked everything up and ran into the house. Hurrying to the bedroom, where I’d carefully laid out my chosen outfit early this morning, I slipped into the bathroom to set out all the cosmetics I wanted to use, as well as the multiple torture devices I would need for my hair.

  A quick disrobe, shower and towel off later, I slipped into the same sleeveless, blue-green dress that Fitzwilliam had fancied when I’d attended his coronation. I found myself turning in circles in front of the mirror, making sure I looked presentable from all angles, then I went to work on the hair and makeup. Luckily, I still spent enough of my time at the OME offices proper, so I wasn’t out of practice when it came to what my grandmother would have called ‘gussying up’.

  When I was done, I tried to look at myself at least halfway objectively.

  You’re a good-looking woman, Esteban had said.

  I suppose that I looked okay. As far as I was concerned, I had a pale hacker’s tan from all the time I spent staring at computer screens, and my hair resembled a bundle of stringy black yarn. The green eyes helped, at least when they weren’t bloodshot from lack of sleep, and my chin was pointy enough to chip ice.

  I’d never had too much of a problem attracting men in the past. In fact, during my college years I had to learn a special scowl to drive them off. Now, I wasn’t so sure. Working with dead bodies didn’t exactly put me in the right social circles to find top-quality dating material.

  Looking at the clock above my dresser I realized I didn’t have time for any more introspection. Slipping on my high heels, I carefully walked out to the center of my living room. I had to get going or I’d be running around shouting ‘I’m late, I’m late!’ like the white rabbit in some fairy tale book I’d read.

  In fact, I realized, I was stepping into my very own fairytale right now.

  I grabbed the medallion infused with Galen’s portal spell and took a deep breath.

  I was excited to be heading back to Andeluvia.

  After all, I was about to be made a Dame.

  Chapter Four

  A flash-bang of white fire, and I arrived in the turret room I’d more or less commandeered as a gathering place for me and my friends. As always, the strain of the magical transport left me off-balance and with a stomach that urgently wanted off the merry-go-round. Making matters worse, I’d made the trip in high heels.

  I wobbled on the damn things like a drunkard on an all-night bender. Thoughts of showing up at my own ceremony with a ruined dress, a skinned knee, or worse flashed through my head. A pair of hands caught my flailing arms and steadied me, long nails pressing unexpectedly into my skin.

  “Be at ease. I have you,” said a female voice.

  My head jerked up as my eyes snapped back into focus. The woman who’d saved me from a nasty fall was roughly my age and height, with a bony face and figure to match. She had long black hair, a flowing gown that matched it, and similarly dark makeup that made her resemble a depressed teenager playing with the ‘goth’ look.

  “Lady Behnaz!” I exclaimed.

  “The same,” she agreed.

  She held on to me for a moment longer until she was satisfied that I wasn’t going to fall over. Then she stepped back to look at me critically. At least the look was one of judgement, not flat-out hostility. Behnaz and I had been a classic ‘hate at first sight’ pair of women, and it had only gone downhill from there.

  I’d pissed off her husband and later called out her infidelity with her lover, Captain Vazura. Then Vazura was killed within minutes of entering into my service. And to top off the sundae of dislike with an over-sweet cherry, she’d caught me on her castle grounds, all while plotting with my friends to have her murdered. Yes, there were some serious extenuating circumstances each time, but let’s be honest. I wouldn’t have wanted to be the defense attorney in my own case with that set of facts.

  But Lady Behnaz had been a bigger person than I’d first given her credit for. For one, she’d realized that Vazura’s death hadn’t been my fault. She’d also come to realize that my bulldog tenacity could be of use in finding Vazura’s murderer. I’d repaid her faith in me by closing the case and having the culprit tossed into the ocean deeps. So while she had to disparage me in public, privately we had buried the hatchet.

  At least, I hoped so.

  “Dayna, Lady Behnaz is present at my invitation,” came Galen’s cultured voice. From off to my side, the centaur stepped forward into the light. Galen’s dark locks and tail were shiny and freshly combed, his brightly polished silver buttons glistening against the wine-colored fabric of his jacket. “As I have only been to a single knighting ceremony, I felt it incumbent upon me to consult with one more experienced in court affairs. I judged Lady Behnaz to be a suitable choice in this matter.”

  “Well, you’ve got one ceremony’s worth of experience on me,” I admitted. “I guess that I’ve got to defer to your judgement. And that of Lady Behnaz, I guess.”

  “That is wise,” Behnaz acknowledged. “I won’t steer you wrong today.”

  The words escaped my mouth before I even thought about it. “You won’t?”

  “No, I shall not. Dayna, I know we have not been like kin since you came to my world, but you kept your promise to me. It won’t bring…” Behnaz paused, taking a breath before continuing. “It won’t bring my love back, but you have helped me. Now it is my turn to help you, at least in some small way.”

  That sounded like a nicely buried hatchet to me.

  “Thank you,” I said simply. />
  Lady Behnaz pursed her lips and made a circular motion with her hand, indicating that I should turn around. I complied, feeling more than a little like a bug under a microscope. As I did so I got a look around the room, which was lit by glowing balls of magical werelight. Although it was still daylight, the windows had been plugged by the heavy shutters. The wooden table that normally dominated the room had been moved further away from the dark mass of hearth. A set of open chests sat in its original space. Each chest overflowed with richly colored fabrics or glistening gemstones.

  “Perhaps a quarter-hour remains before we are summoned,” Galen noted. “At that time, a royal escort of pages and Commander Yervan of the Palace Guard shall arrive and convey us to the antechamber outside the throne room. There, we shall meet the Protector of the Forest and whichever representative of the Reykajar Aerie the High Elder has chosen to send.”

  “Not Grimshaw?” I asked, surprised.

  “Grimshaw has been here at the palace, so when Belladonna received notice, she had to send someone she could actually give the order to. In any case, Grimshaw shall be present as well. As will a multitude of other people.”

  “Turn to face me again,” Behnaz instructed. I did so, though my stomach had taken another lurch at Galen’s words.

  “A multitude?” I asked, my voice coming dangerously close to a squeak. “I thought this would be a ceremony between myself, King Fitzwilliam, and…I don’t know, some of the lords? I’m not exactly on everyone’s Christmas list, even with those folks.”

  “I don’t know what a ‘Christmas List’ is, but I can guess,” Behnaz said, as she went to rummage through one of the larger chests. “Whether you are well liked or not, you have become a regular topic of conversation among the members of the court.”

  “That’s something else that I could use your advice with. I mean, how the royal court works, and what I’m expected to do! The King sort of sprung this whole ‘Dame’ thing on me out of nowhere after I gave him the report on the griffins.”