Joyce & Jim Lavene - Taxi for the Dead 02 - Dead Girl Blues (3 page)

I knew Terry had decided to take disability. It didn’t look as though he would ever walk again, at least not in the normal sense. I’d seen him get up from the wheelchair. He
could
walk, but I didn’t think he’d be able to wear a uniform—not with legs like a goat.

“And the bottom half of him, Skye.” She shook her head. “He looks like an animal from the waist down. I’m not kidding. Do you think it’s permanent?”

“I don’t know. But we didn’t get Jane Darcy to the mortuary. I’m sure Abe has something to say about that—and we won’t get our bonuses.”

“I know.” She frowned as she scuffed her sandal along the hot sidewalk. “I was planning on taking the kids to the waterpark next week with that money.”

We’d reached Deadly Ink. A few of Abe’s rowdy crowd of zombies jostled us as they left. The building was one of those older ones that made you wonder what was holding it up. The old red bricks looked as though they’d been there hundreds of years trying to survive the wind, rain, and sun.

Abe lived on the top floor of the three-story building. I’d never gone up that far. He was very private about his personal life. I didn’t want to know that much about him anyway.

He was a frightening man.

They said he was born in 1863 when his mother named him for President Lincoln after the Emancipation Proclamation. He’d fallen in love with a witch who’d killed him and made him her slave. The story went on to say how he’d killed the witch and began his own zombie army.

He’d never acknowledged that any of it was true—at least not to me. And he wasn’t a man I wanted to have that conversation with.

His past was his, as far as I was concerned. I wasn’t interested in his mythology. I was only here for Kate.

The tattoo shop was busy, as it always was. Abe had a keen interest in tattoos even though he didn’t have any ink that I’d ever seen.

On the night I’d died, a pale blue tattoo that looked like an A inside a circle, was put on my heel. All of the LEPs had them. It seemed like a possessive thing to me, although people said it was just Abe’s magic that was part of keeping us alive.

But come on—an A when his name was Abe? I thought it was more that he wanted us to know that he owned us.

We had an instinct for finding each other too, Abe’s people. Maybe that was part of the magic too. I could look across the room and easily pick up on who was living and who was dead. To me the dead had a kind of blue glow about them.

Abe kept a dozen or so young, tough guys around the tattoo shop. What were their jobs? I could only imagine where they went and what they did when they left Deadly Ink in groups with small handguns tucked into their waistbands.

But I kept my imagination on a short leash. It was none of my business.

“He’s waiting to see you.” The new head tough guy sat on a tall stool behind the counter, scrolling through his phone. He jerked his head toward the back office—like we didn’t know where to find Abe. I ignored him.

Debbie gave him her new killer look and then turned to me nervously. “Should I go in with you? I already saw him. He just told me to get you.”

“You’re involved too,” I reminded her, admiring a full-torso tattoo of a gold dragon on a man’s chest. The color was wonderful. Even though the image wasn’t finished, it was still incredible.

“Okay. But I have to get home soon.”

“Me too. Let’s hope what he has to say doesn’t take too long.”

I understood Debbie’s reluctance to face Abe. Besides being a scary person, he’d made it clear that he wanted her in his bed. I tried to stay out of that issue and focus on our jobs. That other part was between him and her. They were both consenting adults.

If we were going to be taken down a notch or two for the botched attempt to bring Jane Darcy in, I wanted Debbie there too. She’d been my partner long enough to claim bonuses when things worked out. She’d also been there long enough to listen to Abe tell us what a bad job we did on a day like today.

His door was open. He was sitting behind his big desk, staring at his cell phone. Like many other people, he was obsessed with it. He changed brands frequently but always kept the old phones going too. Maybe he was afraid one of them would stop working.

He looked up as we walked in, hastily donning his usual sunglasses. Unlike the rest of us who looked like normal, living people, Abe had no pupils or irises. His eyes were white and empty. I wasn’t sure if he wore the sunglasses to attempt to look normal or if he was embarrassed and didn’t want us to ask a lot of questions. He didn’t have to worry about me.

“Ladies. Please take a seat.” He gestured toward the two, older leather chairs in front of his desk. Abe rarely raised his voice or seemed to get upset about anything. He sat back in his chair with his fingers in a pyramid in front of his face.

Of course there had been the time Abe was so upset with me that he lifted me straight off the floor with one hand. And the time I’d seen him kill a man with the same calm demeanor. Abe’s still waters ran deeper than most, but that was to be expected after being alive for more than a hundred and fifty years.

“Close the door, Skye. We don’t need an audience.”

Debbie squirmed in her seat, pouting like a child who knew they’d done wrong. “It wasn’t our fault,” she blurted. “They had it all set up. We did the best we could.”

“I’m sure you did.” Abe’s teeth were very white against his shiny black skin. “Nevertheless, the absence of your bonus will speak louder than my words.”

I closed the door and took my seat. I’d worked for him long enough to know that there was more going on than a botched pickup. There had been many LEPs I couldn’t bring back. He was right. The worst that had ever happened was that I didn’t get a bonus.

“What’s going on?” I asked, almost belligerently. “No one died. You don’t call me in for making a mess.”

“The van was wrecked,” Debbie reminded him. “Is that why we’re here?”

“That is being seen to. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.” He sat forward, the scent of cloves and other spices wafting across from him. “Something else is amiss that I hope you ladies will be able to help me with, especially you, Skye, though I imagine it will be good for Debbie to learn something of what you know as well.”

“Okay. So, what’s up?” I realized at that moment why it’s police procedure to have a suspect remove their sunglasses, hats, and other things that people hide behind. It was hard to know if I was getting a straight answer from him.

Of course with no expression in his ghastly white eyes, would that even matter?

Debbie glanced anxiously at her watch. “Look at the time. I have to go soon—the kids you know.”

Abe surged to his feet. He was a big man, well over six feet. His arms and chest were formidable. He didn’t move lightly—more like a mountain—covered in skin like shiny black rubber.

I admit I sat back in my chair. I try to keep my distance, maintain an air of cool nonchalance. But inside, he terrifies me.

Whatever was wrong was a
big
deal for him. Debbie grabbed my arm, even more afraid than me.

Before either of us could pee our pants, one of Abe’s tough guys knocked at the door and barged inside. “People are starting to ask questions about the dead magician in the alley, Abe. No one else has seen him, but they keep walking out there. What do you want us to do?”

Chapter Four

“Harold the Great is dead?” I was surprised to hear it, even though I’d seen Abe’s last magic user killed right in my own backyard. I’d thought Jasper’s death was a fluke and that magic users were tougher than that.

Abe’s threatening posture relaxed. “That’s right. I was about to explain the situation to you when Debbie reminded me of her
other
obligations besides the one she owes me.”

All eyes turned to Debbie whose face had gone white. “That’s okay. I can do whatever you need me to. Terry is home with the kids.”

I thought Abe might spout some rhetoric about how Terry wouldn’t be home with the kids at all if it wasn’t for his intervention, but he only grunted and moved to the door.

It may not sound like Abe was romantically interested in Debbie, but she’d snubbed him last year, and his new scheme to win her seemed to be ignoring and badgering her. Not much of a plan. But since she had nowhere to go, it could still work. Abe was a powerful figure who held her life and death in his huge hands. That could get to her eventually.

Debbie and I followed him and his heavily tattooed assistant, Morris, out of the office. Morris was a tough-guy wannabe who didn’t quite measure up. He was kind of small and thin with a crippled leg, but he had awesome tattoos across every spare scrap of his skin.

“I didn’t mean to get him all riled up,” Debbie whispered to me. “You never know with him. I don’t know how you can joke with him, Skye.”

“What’s the worst he can do? I’m already dead.” I shrugged and put my hands in my pockets.

“Yeah. I guess.” She bit her lip and was silent as we walked back through the tattoo shop.

The crowd there parted for Abe like he was Moses. Eyes turned away. No one spoke. Even if you didn’t know the true purpose of the shop and Abe’s power, he was a figure to reckon with. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to take him on. Surely if someone had murdered Harold, that person had no idea who the magician actually worked for.

Or he was crazy.

We went into the dark alley together. Someone had put up a few lines of limp crime scene tape that fluttered in the breeze. I could see from the lights on the buildings beside us that the Harold’s body had been covered with a blue tarp. There was no sign that the police had been called—they would certainly not have left the body behind for Abe to show us.

“I want to know who murdered Harold.”

“Have you called the police?” I was still a little raw, even after almost three years, about him not wanting me to take back my old job when he resurrected me. I suppose I was holding a grudge. I had loved being a cop, and I’d been good at it.

Abe’s large head swiveled in my direction as his assistant turned on a spotlight that illuminated the area in the alley. “I don’t want the police involved. This was not a normal murder. There was magic,
dark
magic, responsible for Harold’s death.”

Knowing that Harold was really Harold the Great, a stage magician that I’d once hired for my daughter’s birthday party, I was less inclined to agree about the magic part. I’d been surprised when he’d gone to work for Abe and wondered how long he could pretend to be a powerful magic user.

“What makes you think there was magic involved?” I asked in a snarky tone. “I’ve seen a lot of murders that seemed to have no rational explanation, but good police investigation always found the truth.”

“Skye—” Debbie whispered as she clutched my arm.

“You want to see the truth?” Abe grinned. “Morris—lift the tarp.”

Morris grinned too. That made me more certain that I should have kept my mouth closed.

The blue tarp was flipped over, and the strong light played on the victim. Harold was dressed in ordinary street clothes, not his performance robe with stars on it and a pointy hat. Otherwise there was nothing ordinary about his death.

Snakes were crawling over him—a few had lodged themselves in his mouth and throat, clogging his nostrils, and coming out of his eyes and ears. They hissed at us but didn’t move away from Harold’s body. Dozens of them were twined around his legs and arms. One seemed to be in a death embrace around his chest, probably crushing his ribs.

“Oh my God!” Debbie’s hands became talons on my arm. “Oh my God—who could do such a thing?”

Abe had Morris replace the tarp as he turned to us. “I’m hoping you two can come up with answers. Skye has ten years of experience dealing with solving crime, although perhaps this one is a little…closer to home.”

I knew right away what he meant. “Lucas didn’t kill him. He only killed Jasper because that idiot came to our house to kill
him
. What was he supposed to do—stand there and let him cut off his head?”

It had been an unfortunate situation. Abe’s magic user claimed to know Lucas, a sorcerer with amnesia who I’d met by chance in Nashville. He’d followed me home, and I let him stay, not realizing that there was bad blood between them—or that Jasper would come to my home.

“Lucas killed my necromancer,” Abe said. “Why should I be surprised if he killed my new magic user?”

“Lucas doesn’t just go around killing necromancers, magicians, or other sorcerers. He hasn’t killed anyone in a year. There’s no reason to suspect that he had some part in this.”

Abe chuckled in a way that made my skin crawl. “Perhaps he’s changed his mind about working for me after a long year of cleaning your house and doing landscaping. He may miss his former life.”

“We have no proof that Jasper was right about who Lucas is. He doesn’t even do magic, and if he wasn’t happy working around the inn, I’m sure he’d find something else to do.”

“That is exactly why I believe you’re perfect for this assignment, Skye. I suggest you question Lucas first as a suspect. Don’t worry. I won’t harm him. Quite the contrary. If he killed Harold, I have a place for him.”

“But no police?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No police. Better for you and Lucas, I think. And better for me. Brandon will do the autopsy. Show Debbie how to do what you do. Report back to me as soon as you learn anything. That’s all.”

He told Morris to have Harold’s body moved to the mortuary when Debbie and I were finished examining the scene.

“What are we supposed to do?” Debbie whispered with a quick backward glance at Morris who stood there smiling.

“Let’s take a look around the area and see what we can find.” An audience didn’t bother me. I’d been working hard at becoming a homicide detective before my untimely demise. I was used to people staring at me from a crowd.

The alley seemed barren of anything that could tell us what had happened. There were no cameras on either building beside us. Debbie and I combed carefully through the debris along the edges of the cracked and dirty pavement. A few trashcans had been knocked over, but they weren’t close enough to Harold’s body to think they were significant.