5th Pentagram: The sequel to the #1 Hard Boiled Mystery, 9th Circle (Book 3 of the Darc Murders Trilogy) (Book 3 of the Darc Murder Series) (14 page)

“Who invited you here?” Trey ground out through gritted teeth.

“Trey!” Mala reproached him. “Mr. Speer was the one who helped us find you. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t have these paramedics here to help you.” Trey’s expression must not have shown the proper amount of gratitude, as she added, with emphasis, “And the nice pain meds that came along with them.”

“Right,” Trey growled. “He’s just luring us into a false sense of security.” He turned to face the APA. “Don’t think I won’t slap the handcuffs on you just because there are women and children here. I’ve done it once; I’ll do it again.”

The attorney backed up, raising his hands in defense. Mala stepped forward, whispering.

“I know you’re gun shy after Bryce, but are you sure this is the right way to handle things?”

“Hey,” Trey fired back. “There’s the right way, and then there’s
my
way.” Okay, that had sounded a lot cooler in his head. “Whatever.” He faced off with the lawyer again. “I’ve got my eye on you.”

Carson cleared his throat and seemed to be trying to put his smile back on his face.
Nice try, buddy. Go somewhere else and peddle your serial killer wares
. The APA began talking again. Man, that guy’s voice got on his nerves. It was a total nice-guy voice. Which clearly pointed to the guy being their suspect.

“Detective Keane, I feel like we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot here. I really respect what you and your team do, and—”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Trey stopped him. “Flattery. Already been tried. By your predecessor. Did I mention that he was a cold-blooded mass murderer?”

The lawyer threw his hands up in frustration. “I really am just trying to help.”

That sparked another thought in Trey’s head. It might just be the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins, but Trey was on
fire
today.

“Yeah, let’s talk about that ‘help,’”, Trey said, using air quotes. Well sort of. He only could use the one hand, which really lessened the impact. “How did you know where we were? We didn’t tell you.”

“Dispatch tracked the LoJack on your car,” he replied. Dammit. Slick bastard had a response for everything.

“Okay, smart guy. But how did you know to track us in the first place?”

“Because,” he said, after letting out a long breath. Good. Looked like Trey was getting to him. “Dr. Charan called in saying that she was worried about you. Something that the little girl had drawn made her think you were in trouble.”

“Oh.” There was nothing there for Trey to work with. Maybe it was time for a tactical retreat. He did need to get his shoulder looked at, after all. “Fine. But don’t think you’ve got me fooled. I’m all over you like a cheap suit. Baggy where you don’t want it, and tight in the crotch.”

Again, that didn’t come out quite how it had sounded in his head.

As Trey grabbed one of the paramedics to look at his shoulder, Carson stepped past him, moving toward Darc, holding his hand out for a shake. Darc seemed to contemplate the man’s hand for a moment before joining in with the social ritual. Traitor.

“Detective Darcmel, I’m so glad you’re both safe,” the lawyer enthused. “Any new developments in the case? I mean, other than almost getting killed,” he modified.

“Don’t tell him anything, Darc,” Trey called out from where he was getting attended to by the paramedics. Sometimes it felt like he spent most of his life sitting next to an ambulance getting poked and prodded. “The man’s shady.”

Darc stared at his partner a long moment before turning back to the APA. Double traitor. “The pentagram led us to investigate the Satanists here in Seattle. They have a monthly meeting on the ferry.”

“Oh, I love the ferry!” the attorney gushed. “It’s so beautiful and peaceful out there.”

“See?” Trey inserted. “More proof. Who loves the ferry? Seriously. That thing is evil.”

“Well, I guess with all the scheduling stuff I can see why—” he began.

“No. Nope. Stop right there,” Trey cut him off. “Agreeing with me is not going to help.”

The lawyer seemed to be right at the point of exploding, when he took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure how to handle this.”

“You hear that?” Trey pointed at the APA. “He’s modulating! Serial killers modulate!”

“Trey,” Mala stepped in. “It does seem like no matter what he does it sets you off.” She patted his arm, the one that wasn’t hurt. “And, I’m sorry, you do seem a little crazy right now. Just saying.”

Well, this was not going at all the way he had envisioned it. Escaping from a burning building of death should afford him a little more respect than this.

“So you think it might be the Satanists?” Carson continued with Darc.

“It is a possibility. The main High Priest has no alibi, and there are markers of Satanic ritualism about the murders.”

“I’ll say,” the lawyer agreed.

“Although,” Mala said, “it’s possible that Edward… he’s the Satanist High Priest,” she explained in an aside to Carson, “could have been thumbing his nose at us. It had that energy about it.”

“That is one of the variables we are taking into consideration,” Darc added.

“Why aren’t we talking about Mr. APA here,” Trey forced in again. He felt they were getting off topic. “What’s his alibi?”

“Um… I was at work?” he replied without looking at Trey. Coward.

“Doesn’t mean anything. This could’ve all been automated. Or done by remote.” Trey looked over at Darc. “And what’s with the fact that there was no pentagram this time?”

“There was,” his partner answered.

“No, I mean the star thingy in the middle.”

“The body was the star. The head, the arms and both legs created the five-pointed star. Did you note how the head was facing down?”

“No,” Trey replied. “Too busy trying not to get sliced in half. What does that mean?”

“The downward facing pentagram is typically associated with left-handed paths. Satanism of varying types.”

“Right.”

“Was there anything else?” Carson asked.

“More symbols. The salient mark at the head was 1211.” Darc paused for a moment. “I have no idea what that means.”

Trey mulled that over. It had to be hard for his partner to admit that he couldn’t figure out symbols. That was what he did. And Trey had never seen him fight with meanings like that before. He might get tripped up on other things. But letters and numbers? Never, that Trey had observed.

Plus, there was something else here. Those numbers sounded funny. Like there was some meaning there that he should know but couldn’t quite remember. He thought about it for a minute, then pushed it out of his head. If Darc couldn’t figure it out, there was no way that Trey could.

“Well, keep me updated on your progress,” the APA said, turning away from Darc. He caught a glimpse of Trey and turned back. “Maybe it should be you that contacts me. You know, just for now.”

Darc nodded.

Trey sat there, seething at the retreating back of the lawyer. There was something up with that guy. No one else believed it, but Trey knew it was true. No alibis for any of the killings. Way too nice for his own good.

Trey knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t about to get suckered a second time.

Turning his thoughts to something more pleasant, Trey called out to Darc and Mala.

“We still on for that double date?”

He might be hurting, but damned if he didn’t feel like celebrating.

* * *

Mala drove back home, her mind lingering on the circumstances surrounding the crime scene at the metal fabricating warehouse. There were some harsh truths that she was staring straight in the face, and she found she didn’t like them. At all.

Her reaction to Janey’s drawing, her calls to the precinct, her mad dash for the crime scene… all of them had to do with Darc. She cared about Trey, of course. Imagining her life without the shorter detective’s unique blend of humor and bullheadedness was a bleak thought indeed.

But what had sent her into a tailspin was the idea that Darc was in jeopardy. To the point that she was willing to take herself and a little girl into what could have been a dangerous situation in order to try to do something about it.

Maybe Richard was right. Maybe she wasn’t a fit parent.

The self-accusations wormed their way into her mind, taking up residence there and multiplying. On some level, she understood that this was a reaction to an extreme set of circumstances.

She even knew that part of what she was thinking was untrue. Janey had demonstrated over and over again how capable she was and how little danger bothered her. Childhood itself was inherently dangerous, even when parents smothered their children. There was no way to adequately spare children the ravages of life, especially when they seemed determined, like Janey, to approach it head on.

And then there was the simple fairness of the act. How many times had Darc saved Janey and Mala? How often had he been the one to rescue them from imminent danger? And yet that information didn’t seem to fully compute.

That rational, levelheaded voice was being drowned out by the much louder chorus of negativity that was harmonizing to devastating effect. And no amount of rationalization seemed to help. Mala wasn’t being honest with herself. Or with Darc.

Maggie had it right, but she hadn’t gone far enough. Mala was scared of a relationship with Darc. Absolutely. And Mala herself had thought that the issues revolved around Darc’s disability. It was even partially true.

But the real issue was with Mala’s fear that she would lose herself and everything she cared about when it came to the intense detective with the shaved head and the piercing eyes. When he was present and engaged, it was almost like there was no one else there. Just Darc. And that terrified her.

Mala glanced into the backseat, only to see Janey gazing steadily back at her. The little girl shook her head. Somehow she seemed to understand what Mala was thinking. Was she that obvious?

Janey held up a picture. The same one from before. A gold detective’s badge. And within the badge? Mala and Janey and Trey and Maggie. Possibly the strangest family grouping Mala could imagine. But a family nonetheless.

From the imagination of a young girl, Mala was getting her answer. Darc was their protector. All of them. He would go to the ends of the earth for any one of them. She knew it, deep down. And that was what had caused her to panic when she thought that he might be in danger.

That led Mala to another, unexpected thought. Darc would do anything to keep them all safe. But he would do even more for Mala and Janey. He’d proved it, over and over again. He was going so far outside his comfort zone for them that he probably couldn’t even see where he’d been from where he was now standing.

She knew it. Janey knew it, too.

And, to be honest, even though their first date had been disastrous, she was looking forward to tonight. Train wreck or not, she wanted to spend time with Darc.

The fact that Janey wanted it as well was just additional impetus.

To hell with it all.

No one, not Richard from DSHS, not Janey’s schoolteacher, not the other women on the ferry… hell, not even Mala’s fractured inner voices, could tell her how to be a good parent to Janey. Only she and Janey could do that.

And it was something that they were going to have to work out together.

* * *

Darc had dressed himself three times and was in the middle of doing so a fourth when Trey and Maggie arrived. He buttoned up his shirt and went to open up the door for them both to enter.

“Looking good, Darc,” Trey said, whistling.

“I am not certain. Does this shirt match my pants?”

Maggie stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him. “Are you really asking that question?”

“Yes.”

She shook her head. “He’s got it worse than I thought.”

The pathways of logic tangled themselves around that statement. It made no sense as far as Darc could fathom.

“What is it that I have?” he asked.

“You care about Mala,” Maggie responded.

There was still some part of this conversation that Darc was not comprehending. “Of course I care about Mala. Her features are aesthetically pleasing. She also is guardian to Janey, with whom I have a relationship.”

“Don’t get all gushy on me, Darc,” Trey said. He rotated his shoulder. “Damn, that smarts. They didn’t give me nearly enough pain meds.”

“Okay,” Maggie said, herding them out the door. “Time to go get Mala.”

Darc felt something well up within him. His palms became sweaty and his heart rate increased.

“I think I may be ill.”

Maggie took one look at him and laughed.

“Bad. You have got it
bad
.”

* * *

The restaurant, Spinasse, was fantastic. That much had been perfect so far.

Mala loved Italian even more than Japanese, and this seemed to be one of the best Italian places in the city. From the moment they went inside, it felt like they had stepped into an old Italian farmhouse.

They had started out with some of the best calamari Mala had ever tasted, and a bottle of fantastic Chianti. From there, it had all gone downhill fast.

Mala looked across the table at Trey and Maggie, both of whom had worry plastered all over their faces. With good reason. Darc had been… well…
entertaining
was a word that could be used in this moment. Another might be
shocking
.

So far, he had managed to insult the chef by asking him to prove that he had washed his hands and he’d offended their server by asking her to provide proof that she was old enough to serve alcohol. The only one he hadn’t managed to annoy so far was their busboy, but Mala was only giving that another matter of minutes.

Darc was sitting next to her. He tried once again to engage her in conversation.

“The brassiere you chose to wear this evening accentuates your breasts. They appear firm and proportionate.”

Trey cleared his throat, obviously trying to get Darc’s attention. He shook his head at his partner, and Mala could have sworn he was trying to kick him under the table.

This was possibly worse than their first date. Although they hadn’t gotten kicked out of the restaurant. There was that.