Under a Blood Moon Page 3

  “You’re right, but I’m still going to stay at your place, if that’s okay?” I asked. I thought I heard him agree before I drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  At 6 a.m., the sky began turning pink on the edges, darkness losing the fight against the coming sun. My nerves came closer and closer to the edge waiting for Jakob. I stood in the lobby, scanning the parking lot for the flash of Jakob’s dark green Mercedes convertible. When I saw it, I ran to get in without wasting any time.

  He gave me a quick kiss, and then smiled. “You’re nervous about the sunrise.”

  “You should be too, in another hour…”

  “In another hour, I’ll be home in bed, and you’ll be at work.”

  I sighed. We’d had this argument before; neither of us could convince the other to change their minds. If we were going to have a talk like that I’d much rather talk about his car. “You could buy something safer, with vampire glass in the windows.”

  “That glass doesn’t really solve anything.”

  “It might help a little,” I pointed out. “Not to mention airbags, crumple zones, and all those other things they didn’t have 50 years ago. Your car is old.”

  “My car is vintage,” he corrected.

  ****

  We went round and round on the topic the whole way to his place. Despite our disagreement, I held him tight before I left for work. He might not worry about sunlight, but I did. I worried all the way to work. Putting the car’s top up in the garage downstairs at headquarters, I hoped Jakob and I could find a better system for mornings.

  Upstairs in the squad room, Danny had already grabbed a cup of coffee to sip while he reviewed the reports from the night before. Sometimes I thought we spent half our time reading reports and the other half writing them. The night shift had turned up precious little. When they started canvassing the neighborhood, most everyone had been home eating dinner. The stores were closed, so anyone who was approached by our mysterious two thugs was out of reach. Most people in the area hadn’t had much to say to the police. That meant Danny and I would spend our day in the same neighborhood, hoping the daylight made people chatty.

  On our way to check out a department car Danny caught sight of the Mercedes in the SIU space. He stopped to admire its gleaming exterior.

  “Who do you think that beautiful piece of machinery belongs to?” he asked.

  “Mr. Mueller,” I replied with a smile.

  “No way? The stiff gets to drive that?” He stared a minute longer.

  “Jakob won’t even talking about replacing it with something more practical, no matter how many times I bring it up.”

  “I’m going to have to agree with him, partner.” Danny shook his head, no doubt thinking about how wrong I was. “It’s a joy to look at, but what’s it doing here?”

  “I borrowed it to drive into the city from his place.”

  I pulled him away from the car and toward our standard issue nondescript brown sedan.

  “So you spent the night at his place.”

  Danny was Catholic, very Catholic. His big Irish family included not one but two nuns and a priest. I knew he wouldn’t approve.

  “Oh, hell.” I stopped in the middle of the garage, remembering the tape. “Come on, back up stairs.”

  “What, I didn’t say anything, and don’t even tell me that you could tell what I was thinking. I know better than that.”

  “Not you, me. I got a threatening message on my answering machine last night. I brought the tape. I almost spaced it, I guess my mind is on other things.”

  “Things like the car…or its owner?”

  I didn’t dignify his question with an answer.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were seated in front of Lieutenant French’s desk, our chairs pulled up close to the handheld tape player. He played the tape, and I made a point of looking elsewhere and thinking about other things. I studied the photos of the lieutenant fly-fishing. His mouth smiling in a way it never did at work. He smiled the same way in a photo with his wife, her blond hair pale against the dark skin of his arm while he twirled her on some dance floor.

  When he played the tape a second time, I didn’t have anything left to distract myself. Instead, I distanced myself by making poorly supported conclusions. The voice didn’t seem as raspy as it had last night, more like someone trying to use an accent they didn’t normally have. The grammar hadn’t improved over night either. Somehow, that didn’t make it less frightening. Like most ex-Marines, the lieutenant didn’t spare me any sympathy, instead he studied me for a minute. I wondered if he was remembering the first time we’d met, when, confused and unsure of myself, I handed him the card Phoebe had given to me. Maybe his eyes checked me over for signs of a problem. If that was it, all he would see was me, brown hair with a bit of a curl, green eyes, skin a shade less tan than most people liked.

  Whatever he thought, he kept it to himself and said, “All right, Mors, let’s start with the basics. Is your number listed?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Have you ever had a phone call from this person before?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You live in an apartment or a house?”

  “Apartment.”

  “Building? Like the kind where someone downstairs could forward them to your phone?”

  “I don’t think the Eclipse does that.” I shook my head.

  “The Eclipse? Are we paying you too much, Mors?”

  “No, sir.” He raised his eyebrows at me, so I went on. “Police officer discount.”

  “Hmph. What do you think?” He turned to Danny.

  “Whoever it is, they had to know that calling would have the direct opposite effect of what they’re asking. You threaten a cop and things get harder, not easier.”

  “You’re assuming they knew I’d bring the tape into work.” I looked at my partner, wondering if that procedure was common knowledge.

  “Yeah, I’m guessing that they banked on you bringing the tape, following the rules to the letter. They deliberately mentioned the zombies. I think that’s what they want us to look at, these two dead guys.”

  “So what do you want to do?” the lieutenant asked with a smile.

  “I want to focus on the two guys, the ones who came by earlier asking for the money. I think the message was meant to make us raise a lot of hell about zombie killings, which would make it that much easier to sell protection.”

  “That all right with you, Mors?”

  I nodded my consent. Danny and I got up to head back down to the garage. This time Danny didn’t stop to admire Jakob’s car.

  Our first visit was to the QuikStop. Returning to the scene of the crime seemed hokey to me, but Danny insisted they were the most likely to talk to us. Inside you couldn’t tell there had been any kind of disturbance. The shelves that had been turned over were back in place, fully stocked. Rakesh’s wife recognized us from the day before and smiled a hello. I was happy to see a line of people at her cash register, all going about business as usual. We found our way back to the office where Rakesh was working.

  “We were hoping you’d remember something about the two men who may have caused the attack,” Danny began.

  “I thought about it all night. Memory is a tricky thing; eyewitness accounts are useless. It’s the first thing you learn in psychology class.” He looked away for a second before his eyes focused on me. “You don’t feel like a witch today.”

  “I’m sorry?” The question stunned me.

  “Yesterday, when you”—he searched for the right word for a moment but finally gave up and started again. “Yesterday, you made the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. Today you don’t. Why?”

  Most people couldn’t feel witchcraft, not on a conscious level. Even some witches had to learn to recognize the feeling of someone working magic. I wasn’t sure how to answer him. I decided to keep it simple. If the degree on the wall was real, he could handle it. “I’m not using my abilities today. Yesterday I was.”r />
  “What makes you ask? Most people who don’t have supernatural abilities don’t pick up on supernatural activity,” Danny questioned.

  “The two men who came to see me, whose faces I can’t remember, they made my hair stick up. In a different way, though. I was hoping there was some index of feelings that could help.” He threw his hands up in a gesture of futility. “What do I know? I run the neighborhood convenience store.”

  “You were a doctor before?” I asked, pointing to the degree.

  “We were all something once,” he sighed. “This is a community of immigrants. Educated people who worked hard and paid dearly to become Americans. Unfortunately, now that we’re here, our education isn’t as valuable, but thankfully hard work still matters.”

  “I didn’t realize that, I thought this was just another section of town,” I wondered out loud. I could see Danny was tolerating me but only barely.

  “It was until about eight years ago. The first families brought their families, they brought their friends, and finally there were enough people to have religious services and doctors who spoke our language. Suddenly, I have more family in the three blocks around us than I do back home.”

  “Really? Do you think any of them might have been approached?” Danny asked.

  “Perhaps, it is not something we would discuss. I can give you names if you’d like to talk to them.” He grabbed a pen and began writing out a long list.

  “We would very much like to talk to them. Only, do you think they’ll talk to us? My family immigrated not so long ago, and I don’t remember anyone being too excited to talk to the police,” Danny said with a smile.

  “I’ll call them to introduce you, and I’ll ask my family myself.” He finished writing and handed the paper to Danny. “I’m only sorry I can’t do more.

  ****

  We decided to work our way through the list together, hoping that one of us might catch something the other didn’t. Two doors down from the Quikstop was a clothing store. The owner introduced himself as a cousin of Rakesh. He was happy to talk to us but didn’t remember anything more about the two men. He had agreed to pay them a small amount in cash but had insisted that all other bills would be paid by check, with an invoice. They’d stopped coming in after that.

  The story was the same at the next two shops. Each shop was owned by recent immigrants, both had paid a small amount in cash, but neither remembered much about the men. One person was able to tell us the men were both white. Another guessed their height to be medium. It wasn’t a lot of information for a morning’s work, but Danny’s stomach never let us miss lunch. Normally his wife, Katie, packed Danny’s lunch five days a week, but the zombie attack had earned him a lunch out. We ended up at a small Indian restaurant.

  I was amazed at Danny’s ability to order. Everything on the menu was a mystery to me.

  “Growing up one of my favorite restaurants was Indian. It was a rare treat to get tandoori chicken and naan instead of bacon and cabbage.

  “You mean corned beef and cabbage?”

  “Nope, in Ireland it’s bacon and cabbage.”

  “Really?”

  Danny looked serious, but I didn’t trust him. He kept quiet about his childhood, but everything else turned into a joke. A waiter dropped off a pair of plates overloaded with food and a basket of hot flat bread. I watched Danny before I began eating. Half of the food on my plate seemed to be sauce for the bread, some of it was creamy, but some of it had a serious kick.

  “Really. Like stew should be made with lamb, not beef. Decent cuts of lamb are one of the few things Ireland does better than the US.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been to Ireland.”

  “I grew up there. My parents moved to the states when I was in high school, but it didn’t work out. This”—he gestured to the lunchroom, which was quickly filling up with families and friends, all of them Indian—“didn’t happen for us. No sense of family, no friends who knew our holidays, no priest who spoke our language. Finally they gave up and went home.”

  “So when did you come back?”

  “College. My family thought I’d get over my fascination with this godless country and come home. Instead, I met a nice Irish-American girl and settled down. It shocked the hell out of my brothers and sister.”

  “You settling down?”

  “Finding a nice girl in America,” he grinned. I knew he couldn’t get through a conversation without joking. Still, it amazed me that I’d known Danny this long and never guessed his story. Looking around the restaurant, I tried to imagine how many other fascinating lives were being lived around me. Love started, flourished, or died. Babies were born and grandparents passed on, while the rest of us went to work and ran errands. It made me wonder which part of life was more important.

  We finished lunch and walked out into the neighborhood. When Danny left, he took the only pair of blue eyes in the restaurant, when I followed him the place went back to being exclusively Indian. It felt odd to be the minority, even if no one said anything to you about it. Two doors down from the restaurant was a video rental shop. I recognized a Bollywood hit advertised in the front window but nothing else. The owner remembered the two men and was able to give us a cell phone number for them. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. We decided to hit one last store before heading back to the office.

  I let Danny pick the shop. He never told me, but I guessed he had a magical background. Things had come up, but I’d never learned more. Today I was hoping that whatever he was, he had good luck. When he picked a chocolate shop, I was sure there was nothing magical about it. The store’s front window was stenciled with the shop name, “Fantasía Del Chocolate.” Beneath it, the display featured an Aztec Step pyramid overlooking a chocolate village. The scene was dotted with bright yellow marigolds. Inside it looked more like a coffee shop than a Godiva store.

  The owner was standing behind a U shaped bar that ran most of the length of the room. A pair of men sat on stools away from him, sipping milky looking drinks. The room showcased bright reds and blues, a mix of Mexico and India, with a tile floor and palm plants between the counter and the glass cabinets filled with wrapped chocolates. I felt the smallest sensation of air across my skin, even though I was wearing a jacket. I looked up at the owner and realized he was something. I couldn’t tell what he was, but he must have felt me too. He looked up sharply and smiled.

  Clearly Latino, with dark brown curls dancing across his forehead his skin was amber honey, his eyes electric green. He would have made the perfect star in a rock video with his high cheekbones and flawless face. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans with a white apron tied at his waist. A white t-shirt struggled to keep his muscular arms covered. Tall with the smooth features of a Mexican or a Spaniard, his body looked lean and taut. I was instantly jealous. Put me to work in a chocolate shop, and I wouldn’t stay svelte for long.

  Danny walked toward him, but he kept those glowing green eyes on me. I didn’t look away.

  “How can I please you today?” His voice was a soft but decidedly male purr.

  “We’re hoping you can help us with the zombie attack that happened yesterday,” Danny began, flashing his badge.

  “First I need to get you something. You’re the first police officers to visit my humble shop, and I have to reward you,” His smile was broad, and he gestured to the cases behind him. “Pick something, on the house.”

  I could see Danny beginning to drool at the prospect of gourmet chocolate. Katie had recently decided the whole house needed to eat healthier. The last time I visited for church and Sunday supper, the meal had ended with sugar-free pudding instead of pie. I suspected she’d never find out about this.

  “What do you recommend?” Danny asked.

  “For you, milk chocolate rum truffle.”

  He reached into one of the glass cabinets and took small candies out. He made some moves behind the counter, then handed Danny a delicately arranged plate.

  “For the lady,”
he began.

  “The detective,” I interrupted.

  “The lady detective,” he corrected himself with a smile, “something dark befitting her status, hold on.” He walked away to an espresso maker and came back with a steaming mug. “Aztec drinking chocolate, be careful, it’s like you, powerful.”

  Danny gave me a look, but all I could say was thank you. After my first sip I was transported somewhere else, somewhere tropical and sensual. By the time I swallowed, the heat hit me. I hadn’t paid attention to his warning; the hot spice took me by surprise. It wasn’t quite Texas hot, but it was close. My eyes watered, but it didn’t stop me from taking a second drink. I liked the mix of heat and sweet.

  “This is amazing.” Danny said. “I don’t want to sound rude, but what made you open up a shop on this side of town? You could be working uptown making ten times as much.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce myself. Your partner distracted me.”

  He wiped his hands on his apron and held it out to shake. “Indigo Vargas, chocolatier and werejaguar.”

  We were supposed to be shocked. Instead, Danny smiled and shook his hand. “Danny Gallagher, detective, SIU.”

  I almost laughed at Indigo’s surprised expression but caught myself.

  “Mallory Mors, Detective and death witch, but you could have guessed that.”

  “I could, especially since I watch the news.”

  He turned to Danny. “Are you…I can’t place…”

  “Don’t worry, I’m nothing special. Now about the zombie attack at the Quickstop?”

  “Right, I’m wondering if the zombies had anything to do with the werewolves.”

  “Werewolves?” Danny looked at me in alarm. No one had mentioned werewolves yet.

  “About a month ago, two of them stopped in and asked who took care of my security. I told them I did. They must have been new because they didn’t recognize me. They went into this speech about how things happen that drive customers away, and on and on. Finally I pushed a bit, and they left.”