Ryan was trying to explain what happened. “A crowd had gathered, and our officers were collecting witness names before anyone got away. That delayed the call to Doc Onway until they noticed something wrong with the body. They didn’t know decomp would start that fast.” He shook his head. “Why don’t they listen to me? I keep telling them we need to train anyone working in or near Olde Town. Anyway, patrol reported they saw round, bullet-like punctures to the head and the chest area. But, thanks to the rapid decay, there wasn’t much left by the time Doc or I arrived.
“So, it could have been any instrument that made a round hole. Like a stake or a pole?”
Ryan shook his head again. “Don’t think so. Bar patrons reported hearing shots. But we didn’t find any sort of weapon on the scene. The delay cost us good evidence.”
“Are they sure it wasn’t fireworks?”
“Claimed it wasn’t. And whatever it was came from the parking lot.”
“Drive-by?”
“Not likely. But look at the scene yourself.”
While the delay was discouraging, Ari wasn’t sure the arrival of the PD experts would have made much difference in the evidence. Not calling her or the magic lab was the problem. A vamp corpse began to decay within minutes and turned to bones within an hour, ashes shortly after, depending on the chronological age of the vampire. Ordinary forensic procedures weren’t much use, but Otherworlders had additional senses, magical ones, to use. The lab even had handheld sensory instruments now. That was the reason the Magic Council had recently expanded the Otherworld research lab: so these problems wouldn’t occur.
“Wounds to both the head and heart, huh? Double tapped?” Ari looked thoughtful. “Someone was thorough. Almost sounds like an execution.”
“What do you mean, someone?” Ryan puckered his mouth, his voice tinged with suspicion. “You mean Eddie. You might not want to hear it, but we got him cold on this, Ari. And, yeah, I’d say your boy wanted to be sure the vamp was dead.”
“It does look that way.” She kept her voice neutral. “What about the lack of weapon?”
“Just because we haven’t found the gun, doesn’t mean there wasn’t one. We’re still looking for any possibility—stakes, weapons made from silver—but the bar crowd and neighbors heard gunshots.”
“Any other physical evidence? Gun powder residue, brass, silver bullets?”
“Nothing. If I didn’t know better, I’d think someone had policed the area. An accomplice may have fled with the gun, but according to witnesses there wasn’t time for anything else. Residue tests on Eddie’s hands were negative, but you know we get a lot of false readings.” Ryan scowled in frustration. Ari knew he’d been lobbying for an upgrade to a better testing system, but his department was balking at the cost.
If Eddie’s test had been accurate, it reinforced a critical question. No weapon, no bullets, no gun residue. How could Eddie, a slightly built human, kill a vampire without a weapon?
Ryan’s thoughts must have centered on a similar concern. “In spite of the current lack of a weapon or forensic evidence, we have the killer in custody. Eddie confessed. And no one else was in the parking lot.”
“As far as we know,” she hastened to remind him. “You suggested the possibility of an accomplice. If you believe someone had time to get away, couldn’t there have been a different killer? And Eddie just happened to be there?” Ari was beginning to see possibilities in the case. So many missing pieces. “If there really was no one else, and there’s no weapon, what are you suggesting Eddie used? His bare hands?”
Ryan tightened his lips but gave her a faint smile. “Very funny. It was a gun. Everyone heard it. Just haven’t found it. Yet.”
“So, until you do,” she insisted, “your only real evidence of Eddie’s guilt is the confession.”
Ryan’s grin vanished. “Come on. What more do you want? He was standing over a dead body. How do you explain that?”
At the moment, she couldn’t, but considering the repercussions for Eddie, she couldn’t give up either. “Any objections if an Otherworld tech goes over the scene?”
“None. Suit yourself. But there’s nothing supernatural about this, except the victim.”
She made a quick call, requesting a tech from Otherworld Forensics & Research (OFR) meet her at the scene in thirty minutes. Regardless of how good Ryan thought his case was, Ari would look under every rock for a different answer.
Before she could get started, she had a responsibility to fulfill, one she really didn’t want to do. Loyalty was a big thing with her, and this time she was caught in the middle. “I don’t agree Eddie’s guilty, not yet. But I have to tell you something that’s going to make things look worse for him.”
Ryan straightened. “I thought he didn’t talk to you. How can you hurt his case?”
She repeated the conversation she’d had with Eddie in her office three weeks ago, even including Eddie’s damning final words that Jules’s death couldn’t come too soon. “But I don’t think he meant it as a threat,” she finished. “He was just venting.”
Ryan leaned back, his lips pursed in thought. His chair creaked, tilted precariously to the left as it had done for years and stopped short of dumping him on the floor. “So, Eddie had a motive. A strong motive. I know he’s your friend, Ari. Hell, I like him too. But he sure looks guilty.”
Ari glowered at the coffee mug. She was beyond unhappy about her part in this, felt like a traitor to Eddie. But she and Ryan were partners. That meant something. In the last year or two, the police lieutenant had come a long way in trusting Otherworlders, and she wasn’t about to keep secrets that would destroy that trust.
So, where did that leave Eddie? She had a responsibility and loyalty there, too. He’d helped her out on her first big case. Been there when she’d needed a friend. Maybe she should have looked deeper into his complaint about Jules when he first came to her. Could she have stopped this? Maybe not, but Ari wished she knew. In any case, Eddie needed her now more than ever.
“Something’s not right, Ryan. I don’t know why he confessed, but there’s too much left dangling. The only explanation I can think of is Eddie’s protecting someone. How about his sister, Lorraine? Have you questioned her?”
“No, not in person, but she’s coming here in about an hour. The officers who went to her house last night said she fell apart when they broke the news. Can you stay for the interview?”
Ari slowly shook her head. “Thanks, but I’d rather visit the crime scene first. I’ll catch Lorraine at home. Do you have a sketch of the parking lot?”
He used the machine in the hall to make copies for her, and upon his return he leaned over her chair to point out the different positions on the drawing. “Given the trajectory, this is where the shooter stood. Next to the building.” He shifted his finger to another spot. “And this is where Eddie was standing when patrol arrived.”
He didn’t have to show her where the victim had fallen. A squiggly form, vaguely humanoid in shape, the kind they show on TV shows and book covers, marked the location. If the cops were right, the shots hadn’t come from the street. That’s why Ryan had ruled out a drive-by.
“You said there were witnesses?”
“After the fact. About two dozen customers from the bar and a handful of neighbors. Anyone who didn’t hear the shots at least heard the sirens. They all came out to have a look.”
“But no one claims to have seen the shooting,” she mused. Eddie’s defense lawyer could work with that. Without an eyewitness to identify Eddie as the killer, there was always room for doubt.
“So, what happened between the shots and the time the cops arrived? Surely a guilty man wouldn’t stand there and wait.”
“This time he did. According to a bar patron,” Ryan pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and flipped the pages, “a Lewis Hampton, the first person out the door, Eddie seemed frozen, just staring at the body. Maybe he was shocked by what he’d done.” Ryan returned to his desk and sat down. ??
?You can look for mitigating factors, maybe affect the penalty, but a jury is going to take about ten minutes to convict.”
Ari shrugged. Maybe not, if Ryan couldn’t produce a weapon. And Eddie’s lawyer could get him to retract the confession. The juries in human trials were human. While they’d try to be impartial, she felt they’d be hesitant to convict on such slim evidence. Especially considering the consequences. Of course, nothing would help Eddie if he pled guilty. He’d never get to trial. The case would go straight to the penalty phase, and Eddie would be turned over to the vampires for disposition.
Ari’s gut clenched. Vampires could be very inventive.
She strengthened her resolve and wrote down Lewis Hampton’s number and address. His testimony would be critical to the prosecution’s case. If she wanted to save Eddie, she had to find a way to punch holes in his confession.
What they knew so far led to an unacceptable conclusion. She intended to start over from the beginning. Give it a fresh look. Collect new facts. Vampires—overly confident, arrogant or just plain belligerent, depending on your point of view—had a way of making enemies. There had to be other, better, suspects than Eddie. Ryan didn’t know the reporter the way Ari did. Eddie was a law-abiding guy, the kind who paid his parking tickets and didn’t fudge on his taxes. Much more likely to write a vitriolic column than take a gun in his hand.
But if Ari was right about his character, why was Eddie lying?
Chapter Two
As she drove away from the police station, Ari turned her Mini Cooper west toward the river district. The Woodland Inn was a small, neighborhood bar on the east edge of Olde Town. It stood in the zone next to Goshen Park that bridged the modern city with its dominantly human population and the original town, which in the past twenty years had been taken over by those who possessed and used magical abilities. The owner and any frequent patrons of the bar would be familiar with both divergent worlds.
When she arrived, Gillian was already there.
“Ari, so glad you called. Good excuse to get out of the OFR. What’s the story here?” The twenty-something lab tech, dressed casually in white jeans and a pink blouse, hurried across the parking lot with light, graceful steps. Tangled wisps of short blonde hair softened Gillian’s sharp, elfin features.
“I hoped they’d send you.” Ari grinned at her. A fragile looking species, but under that facade lay unusual strength; any elf could bench press 1,000 plus, if he or she was so inclined. Gillian chose to rely on her mind. The two women had been friends since Gillian joined the Otherworld Forensics & Research laboratory four years ago.
Ari explained what she knew about the case, the confession, the lack of physical evidence, and together they gave the scene a once-over. The bar was the only business in an unpretentious brown stucco building with the parking lot east of the front door. The crime scene tape was down, and a clean-up crew had already finished their work. Gillian began to walk around the edge of the paved area. Much of the surface was dotted with old oil stains. That made it easy to identify where the body had fallen. The spot-free area left by a clean-up crew was a dead give-away. Although it was early in the day, four cars were parked in the lot, but the scrubbed area remained empty. Superstition, or a show of respect for the victim?
Gillian returned, stopping next to Ari. “Not picking up much. How about you?”
“Haven’t tried yet.” Ari concentrated, reaching across the parking lot and around the building with tendrils of witch magic. She found residue of Otherworld energy, enough to raise the small hairs on her arms, but it was no more than could be accounted for by the victim’s presence the night before or even by Otherworld bar patrons. Vampires, wizards, lycanthropes, halfling demons, to name a few. Any of them might leak enough magic for trace readings. It had been too long since the incident for her to identify anything specific. She turned to look at Gillian. “Not getting enough. What’s your ES reading?”
Gillian peered at the screen of an Energy Sensor (ES), an instrument no larger than a cell phone. It was a relatively new piece of technology that could detect even minor amounts of magical energy from the presence of magical beings or from conjuring.
“Point zero one. Minimal. But it’s been almost fifteen hours. Wouldn’t expect a very high reading, no matter what happened here. Why weren’t we called last night?”
“Bureaucratic snafu.”
“Theirs or ours?”
Ari glanced at her, but Gillian was grinning.
“Not us, this time. Something about the number of calls on a holiday.” Ari shrugged. “It happens.”
“Not as bad as when our lab blew up the evidence.” Gillian chuckled. “That’s what I call experimental. Bits and pieces everywhere. Taught us not to use untried procedures on court cases. I’ll see if we can do better this time. You got a scene sketch?”
Ari gave her a copy, and they scrutinized the PD’s drawing. It was easy to re-create events. The victim must have come from the east toward the front door, which was on the northeast corner of the building. The parking lot would have been on his left. Ari walked over and stood in the spot.
The killer came from the south, staying between the building and the first row of parked cars. No doubt the lot was filled at that time of evening, but she still had a clear line of sight. The vampire would have seen his attacker. With those incredible vamp reflexes, why hadn’t he saved himself? Maybe the killer hunkered down in hiding behind the cars and jumped up firing. Ari thought about it. Nuh-uh. Not with the kind of accuracy that would take out head and heart, not unless he was an expert marksman. And that ruled out Eddie.
More likely the vampire hadn’t been concerned by the killer’s presence. She could see where the prosecution would go with that idea. They’d argue the victim knew his killer, didn’t anticipate an attack, and that pointed to Eddie, the brother-in-law.
“How’d this happen?” Gillian asked, as if reading her mind. “The victim should have gotten away. Vampires are too quick, too wary to get caught like this.”
“He wasn’t expecting it.”
“But the moment he saw a gun, why wouldn’t he take off or disarm his attacker?”
Good question. Jules had to know how upset Eddie was. Wouldn’t he at least be wary around him? Or had Jules succumbed to a moment of vampire arrogance, thinking no human could possibly be a serious threat?
“Police are positive this was a shooting?” Gillian wore a skeptical frown. “The ES mech isn’t giving me that kind of reading.”
“Witnesses said they heard shots. But I’m with you. This is weird.” Ari walked toward the position where the killer must have waited next to the building. “Shooter would have been right here.” She stopped in front of what would have been the first row of parked cars and crouched to search the ground. It was unlikely the PD techs had missed anything important, but she ran her hands over the area.
“What are you doing?” a gruff voice demanded. “This is private property.”
Ari straightened. A bulky male with a short beard stood in the bar doorway and surveyed her with suspicion.
“You a reporter?”
“Official investigation.” She palmed her ID and held it up. “Guardian and criminal investigator for the Magic Council. This is Gillian, from our forensics lab.”
The man squinted at the ID. “Uh, sorry, Guardian.” He stepped outside and let the door slam behind him. “Had a lot of folks nosing around. Reporters. Gawkers. Story made the morning TV news. Oh, I’m Joe Morris, owner and bartender.” He extended a hand, and they shook.
“You were working last night?”
“Me? Always working. Can’t afford much help. The economy, you know.”
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“Sure. Didn’t see the shooting, but be happy to tell you what I can. Let’s step inside. I got customers. Not many, but I try to keep them happy. Every penny counts when you run a business this small.” He held the door open.
Ari looked a question at Gillian.
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“You go on,” the lab tech said. “I want to finish out here. Take another reading, get some samples. I’ll let you know if I find anything or come up with a plausible theory.”
“Check the bushes. Police probably contaminated the scene, but if our killer came or left that way, we might get lucky.”
“Will do. If there’s a speck of energy or DNA, I’ll find it.” Gillian waved a careless hand and began a grid search, section by section.
Ari and the bartender stepped inside. The smell of stale beer greeted her at the door, that strange dichotomy that allows something that tastes so good at night to smell so bad the next morning. Her attention quickly turned to the five customers sitting at the bar: three men, two women. All except one young man appeared to be fifty and up. One of the women was a werewolf. Thanks to Ari’s witch gifts, she could spot the auras of shape shifters, even when they were in human form. The wolf gave a brief nod of acknowledgement.
The other four were full-blooded humans. They studied Ari with curiosity and speculation. Neighborhood bar. Strangers stood out. They must be wondering why Joe brought one of the snoopers inside.
Ari knew they weren’t staring because she looked different. Even though her parentage was mostly witch blood, a taint of human had given her the blonde hair. Light hair, green eyes, girl-next-door ordinary. Nothing about her shouted witch. The raven hair, so common to her race of conjurors, had passed her by. She was usually mistaken for human, and she had heard her share of blond jokes—before people got to know her. Often under-estimated on first impression, she had learned to make it work for her.
The younger man sized her up and offered the bar stool next to him. He wouldn’t have done that for a witch. Ari took the offered seat; Joe went behind the counter.
“This here’s Guardian Calin,” Joe announced. “Works for the Magic Council. She’s here about the shooting. Introduce yourselves. Anybody need a refill?”