Hashtag Murder

by brett hicks

  “I’ll sort them out myself once we are back at the ranch.” Jimmy said in a territorial alpha-male tone. I rolled my eyes at him and popped his chest in a playful manner.

  “Chill your jets, Jimmy. I’m a big girl, I don’t need my partner to sort out every stray sexual comment or every garda in blues will wear matching eye-liner.” I said in a sassy tone, I preened at my joke, but Jimmy seemed to be lost. I huffed in frustration and said, “You know, black and blue eyes, eye-liner, make sense now, yeah?”

  Comprehension sparked in his eyes and I sniffed at him in frustration.

  “Try to keep up Jimbo. Don’t worry about the lads, karma will sort them out.” I say in my most mystical and ambiguous tone. Jimmy seemed genuinely curious and equally worried about what I had planned for the young guards. I was not a bitter or hot-headed girl, but I could be just a smidge vengeful when I felt slighted or humiliated.

  “I pity the sod who crosses you, Avery.” Jim muttered, and I shot him a mocking sassy look but said nothing further.

  “What’s going on with the investigation? What about the POI we arrested earlier?” I asked my partner. Jimmy scratched his cheek and cleared his throat.

  “Well, the POI has amounted to little. He is claiming to be innocent and has insisted on halting all questioning until he can speak with his solicitor. So, the station is on edge. Unless something drastically changes, we will have to cut him loose after six hours.”

  I nodded in understanding. Here in Ireland, you cannot legally detain someone past six hours, unless you are charging them, or you submit a request for an extension. Perhaps the perps here have it better than the common folk. Here, if someone is being charged, then you cannot legally detain them once they are charged, so they get to go home and wait for their court appearance. There are special cases, like with psychos and murderers, but on the whole, Ireland is a fairly forgiving place to be a thug.

  “Have you had time to gather anything that might give us a particular direction?” I asked, Jim huffed in frustration, answering my question with that one sound long before the words came from his lips.

  “No, so far it appears that the POI was just clinging to his dead girlfriend in grief and nothing suggests otherwise. Her parents are swearing blind that he wouldn’t have harmed their daughter. Considering the state, they are in, I could hardly doubt them. As it stands, we have nothing to go on, it’s like this killer just teleported in and out.”

  Jim said that, and he spread his fingers in an exaggerated gesture to display the poof of smoke. I rolled my eyes and suppressed another grumble of hunger pain. My stomach was ravenous now. I still had a few more people to interview. As of right now, most of my eyewitnesses all said the same things, dark figure, shadowy, and vanished.

  What seemed to be the most disturbing thing, was the way they blasted it across social media. I could not figure out how they sent it to so many people. It was as if the entire city got it at once. Fear and panic seemed to emanate from the very devices that we relied on for everything.

  I could not imagine what possessed the killer to make them want to blast it on media. This was more than just a crime of passion or opportunity. This crime was insane for more than one reason. It was just the boldness of this crime seemed to send shock rippling throughout the city.

  “Well, I guess we need to put a BOL out for a teleportation device. Might as well put a search out for a flying time traveling phone box while we’re at it!” I muttered sarcastically. Jimmy snorted, and he quirked an eyebrow at him.

  “I would not have taken you for a sci-fi nerd.” He said honestly, and I huffed at him and cut him a no-bullshit look.

  My mind was spinning with the complexity of the case on my lap and the hole forming in my gut!

  Twelve:

  After one AM I could finally clock out for the night. I spent about forty minutes reviewing the recorded interview of our only current person of interest. The POI was the boyfriend of the victim. Jacob Turner, he had been working as a cater waiter since enrolling in college two years prior. He had kept his girlfriend of nearly a year in party invites and dresses since they started dating. He used his meager connections to work parties she wanted to attend, therefore snagging her a guest invite.

  Jen Bowman had been twenty at the time of her death. She was a second-year student at university. She was studying locally, planning to transfer to Oxford next year. She was bright, kind, and well liked.

  Jen’s death was a shock to all those who loved her. No one liked the boyfriend for this crime. The blood covering his uniform had presented more than enough motive to arrest him under suspicion at the scene, but he had cooperated and quickly been able to produce a rock-solid alibi for the exact timeframe Jen was slain.

  Most of the guests were in the ballroom dancing, eating, and conversing during the time of her death. The trick was to find the right people who were not where they claimed to have been at the time of her death.

  The killer seemed to have pierced her so violently; it was likened to a mad flurry of bladed assaults. She had fifty-two discernable stab wounds. She had glossy raven hair with piercing brown doe eyes. She was about my height of five-five. We were not ringers, but I could honestly look at this murdered girl and see myself laying in her place. She was beautiful, and all her media videos made her seem so sophisticated for twenty. She was a naturally graceful and caring person in all her videos. She seemed to truly love her Boyfriend Jacob, and she always appeared to have a smile on her face, even when times were rough. She was the very personification of the perfect female down to the tee. It was beyond me who or what could have chosen this ray of sunshine to snuff out.

  Hell, I could give you a list longer than both my arms of humans who would want to take me out, but Jen should have been safe. Jen deserved to be on her way to Oxford and hopefully moving towards an engagement announcement with Jacob, assuming things continued the way they had been. This was yet another dying light in our world, another hopeful youth ended before her time even began. Her genes and her future contributions were cut off, denied our society. Just in the hours since I began working this case, I mourned Ireland’s loss of Jen Bowman. She deserved to leave behind many descendants, hell we as a people needed more people like Jen to spread their positive genetics throughout our miry populace.

  Every human death is a human loss, but every bright soul lost tips the world further into darkness. The black of night only relents with the inner beauty of those who shine out brightly, despite the dismal situation surrounding them.

  “What are you doing in here?” Jimmy interrupted me as I was reading the transcripts from the interview with Jacob Turner. I didn’t even spare him a look.

  “Exactly what you can gather, unless you are less than I am crediting you, detective wise.” I sassed at him in a teasing tone. I was playful, and I was trying to get along and banter with my partner. Our teamwork had been less than stealer since the day after we snogged then ended up on the job together. Not that it was bad, he could snug with the very best I had ever experienced, and he knew how to use his hands in cunning and delightful ways.

  Focus, Avery! I mentally chided myself, and I willed away the sensation of his phantom embrace and how tightly, but securely he wrapped me with his muscular arms.

  With one more good shake of my head, I dislodged the lingering moment from my mind. I might not be the smartest or the fastest girl in the world, but I would reckon I am the most stubborn! I willed the thought to stop and it suddenly did. I have such pristine control over my body and my functions it has given me a massive edge considering my stature. Most girls, regardless of how feisty, could not pack as much of a punch.

  “You know we could have looked through those together.” Jimmy stated, and I detected a smidge of hurt in his tone. I felt just a shade of guilt hearing this in his voice. He had done nothing wrong. He had made out with what he thought was a random girl in a bar. It was not his fault I was his partner, or that I secluded myself from all sups, minus my burg
eoning friendship with Sorcha. Not at all for the first time; I had to force back my mounting guilt. I was sabotaging my partnership perpetually. I would have to give Jimmy a chance at some point, preferably before I permanently aggravate him.

  “I was just thinking about the case, not who I needed to mail invitations to.” I said, only barely sounding slightly less bitchy and more playful. Social skills are not my forte, if that is not obvious by now. I am a very direct girl, a straight shooter and all that fun jazz. It can be a gift, but a lot of times it is a curse when handling normal people. Sup and human, most people are a little nicer and a lot more tolerant than I am. I have this allergy to stupidity that I cannot seem to rid myself.

  “You can text me and let me know what you’re thinking next time, that’s all I am saying.” Jimmy said, and I tipped my head in concession.

  “Noted and marked for next time.” I said in a much more friendly tone. My lips turned up into a genuine smirk of amusement.

  “So, any thoughts so far?” Jimmy asked, I could tell he was chaffing at the bit to communicate with me about this case. Being decent detectives means we are interested in the macabre by nature. We are intrigued by what people do to each other, and in our cases, we actively help solve said macabre acts of violence. Detectives yearn to chew the cud over puzzling murders, there is a very good reason detective mystery, is a very large genre in all modes of entertainment.

  “Well, first I have to wonder what the killer did to confuse so many people. Everyone swears blind that all they saw was a shadow. It’s not logical, and it tells me that this person is adept at hiding in plain sight, for whatever reason.” I said, hedging my actual thoughts a lot. I knew the killer had to be good at hiding his or herself, because it was very unlikely, they were a normal human. Ninety-nine-to-one, this is a sup killer of some flavor.

  “I agree, this… person, is deceptive and I cannot find any connecting crimes before this, so the killer is either newly triggered to murder or they have enjoyed a very prolonged lull in their criminal patterns.” Jimmy said, and I nodded, agreeing. I forgot that I needed to be stuffy and put-off by him. I just allowed myself to talk to him as if he were any random stranger on the street.

  “I agree, but I am more likely to incline toward long lull in pattern, because the presence of mind in this clear-cut crime of passion tells me this is not their first-time committing murder. This person as confident enough to walk away from a crime scene after tweeting it to all of Dublin! That is not a first time criminal.”

  Jimmy grumbled in agreement, and He plucked the case file from my hands.

  “What do you make of the tweet? How do you resolve this leap in his logic?”

  I frowned and considered the question for a moment. Jimmy made a very good point.

  “Yes, this crime seems to present two types of persona, almost as if the killer is behaving in a duality of mind and body?” I said, almost asking it as a question. Jimmy’s eyes shone with respect for my skills reading the crime scene.

  “You are not nearly as green as they made you out to be.” Jimmy confessed, and I arched a brow in question.

  “You will elaborate, or I will drive your car into the Dublin bay.” I promised Jimmy, who looked all too serious and completely appalled by the prospect of fishing his car from the bay. I just smiled and looked as mysterious as possible. Jimmy could read me pretty well, but I noticed he could not break through my poker face force field.

  “Well, your previous posting made you out to be more of a cat from trees kind of copper. Not the profiling murderers’ type, so I had not been expecting much, well or anything really. I got thrown meeting you. You are more of a primal force, a human storm, less of a cat from trees girl. I just don’t know how they could mistake your personality so completely?”

  I bit my lip to hide my amusement. I was never close to my colleagues. I was a master of making myself seem boring, plain even. I did not like extra attention especially when I had deep secrets of my own to cover. Anyone who might truly know me, would be genuinely shocked that I let Sorcha feel my magic at all. I was a practical hermit socially.

  “Well, I just never formed many lasting bonds with my old station. I guess we were all just too different. I liked it there, just not enough to make it onto everyone’s Christmas list.“ I said honestly. Jimmy sniffed at that, but said very little. I was sure he was just taking in my words, since he knew I was not exactly a fount of information typically. He was trying to soak up as much as possible, before I raised my force field again.

  “I can see how that might happen. Sometimes the quiet of seclusion might seem more appealing than the attention of humans.” He said with agreement. I hummed in agreement to the sentiment.

  “We should hit the hay soon. We’ll all be back at it bright and early tomorrow, bar a written confession overnight.” Jimmy said, but you could tell by his tone how likely he thought the odds of that happening were.

  “Yeah, we should kip. I’m going this way.” I said, pointing lamely towards the side lot where my small Focus was sitting waiting for me.

  “Cheers, I’ll walk you to your car, not that you need my help.” Jimmy said and quickly amended in a rich masculine tone. He was nice, charming, and very attractive to gaze upon. I should just wrap him up and take him home now! A wiser woman would have!

  I sighed, and I let the tension flow out of me in waves. I was careful that magic did not seep out with the release of my tense breath.

  “Very well then, sir.” I said, my accent making me sound like some lame mockery of a BBC actress. If Jimmy felt that way about my voice, he didn’t let on. Then again, I am always my own worst critic!

  I allowed my partner to walk me out to the dark lot housing my Focus. His masculine urge to protect and shelter then sated. I learned to pick my battles carefully with alpha males.

  I peeled off making for the crime scene. I almost felt a smidge guilty that I was leaving my partner out again.

  Thirteen:

  Sorcha was waiting for me by the time I arrived at the Merrion Hotel. She had her own stylish version of what one could only describe as “cat burglar chic.” She wore dark and ashy colors, but the modern styling and cuts of the fabric were Runway quality.

  Down to her charcoal beany, Sorcha looked like she could step into the most sophisticated club in any major city in the western world. The ashy jeans, the black bomber jacket and silver scarf all further stressed this. I was certain that her current wardrobe was worth about half my yearly income.

  “Wow, did we have a date, and I was just too dim to realize?” I asked in a sassy tone. Sorcha smiled a lazy cattish smile of pure feminine enjoyment. She seemed to be a girl at home in the light. She was very good with people and she thrived on attention. It was rather odd for me to feel so connected to such a “normal” type of girl. Well, aside for the whole she is a fairy, part.

  “Oh, if we had a date, you’d have remembered.” She sassed back and winked at me. I chuckled in amusement and Sorcha strode over as confident as a runway model.

  “So, I’d say it’s about time we kick off the real investigation, yeah?” Sorcha asked in an equally sassy tone. I snorted and nodded in agreement.

  “Aye, just let me slip into my fanciest dress first, yeah?” I sassed back and winked at her playfully.

  “Come on now, I nicked a set of keys from the manager’s office during our interview.” She told me with a mischievous smile on her face. Fae were in love with playing pranks and nicking things. Not that I am saying they are lawless animals or anything. They just had a naturally high dose of trickster genes.

  “Well, glad to know we’re getting off on the proper foot with our side investigation.” I said in quip, and Sorcha rolled her eyes and spared me a brief look of pity.

  “You are far too muggle minded in your thinking. Such a young one ye are.” She said in a sing-song tone, and I huffed and rolled my eyes at her in mock-annoyance.

  “Muggle-minded? When did we fall into a Harry Potter novel?�
� I asked her and she looked like she had just told the world’s greatest joke. She swished her finger around, and tiny sparks of silver energy leaped from her fingertip.

  “Please, we don’t need wands to do magic. Speaking of, you have yet to tell me exactly what the hell you are.” Sorcha said. Her smile barely softened her cutting gaze. I could tell she had finally hit the end of her rope. Her not knowing off hand, did not comfort me. I knew she was likely hundreds of years old, judging from the power I felt and the random old-world turns of phrases I caught her slipping into from time to time.

  “I don’t know what I am. I just know I discovered that I was not human, right about the time I moved here to live with my granny.” I confessed to her and looked off into the distance. I felt a mounting sense of paranoia at being at a crime scene supervised by a supernatural grizzly shifter.

  Sorcha’s look was not pity, but something more akin to a grudging understanding.

  “Well, I know all too well how that feels. Though, I did once have an entire court of fae brothers, sisters, cousins, and many more extended families.”

  She looked longingly off as if peering into some great chasm of the past. The look in her eyes and the sympathetic surge of profound loss in my body seemed synchronized. I could see more clearly now why she and I were becoming such fast friends. Sorcha was the only female friend I had made in so many years. I was a perpetual outcast growing up. I had boyfriends, because I was a half-decent looking girl, but I never really had girlfriends to have sleepovers and pillow fights with. Not that I was planning to invite Sorcha over for a pillow fight!

  “Wow, I’m sorry. I would ask more, but I can see how painful that topic is for you.” I said soberly and Sorcha turned up her lips into a weak smile, but the determination glowing in her eyes showcased her unbreakable resolve. She was a fighter, a survivor, she was an enduring natural fairy of origins I barely comprehended.