Centaur of the Crime: Book One of 'Fantasy and Forensics' (Fantasy & Forensics 1) (23 page)

“Christ, Shelly!” I said. I felt my heart pound underneath my top. “You scared me there for a moment.”

“Don’t you go takin’ Our Lord’s name in vain,” Shelly Richardson said, though her tone sounded more pleased than scolding. She stepped forward and we clasped gloved hands. “As for scared? Dayna, you took a year’s growth off me when you up and left.”

I felt my face flush. I’d vanished in a burst of light, right in front of my friend. She’d probably thought I was dead—and did I even bother to call her when I got back, let her know I was all right?

And…hell, what was I going to tell her
now?

“Ah, about my leaving…Shelly, I know this is going to be difficult to understand.”

“Difficult? It’s not difficult to understand, Dayna.”

“It’s not?”

“I knew that when you left, heaven needed you for something grand.” Shelly pulled her facemask down and smiled beatifically at Galen. “And look…you brought back an angel!”

Now it was Galen’s turn to blush. Ironically, that only made him look even cuter. And I didn’t mean ‘cute’ in the style of the Fayleene princeling, either.

“My pardon,” Galen said, making a half-bow. “We have not yet been properly introduced.”

“I know,” I said, trying to keep control of the conversation. “Galen, this is my friend, Shelly Richardson. She’s one of the senior medical examiners for the LAPD.”

Galen stepped around the empty chill table, somehow managing to look tall and dashing, even while in a green scrub. He gently took her hand and smiled, all perfect white teeth and shaggy dark hair.

I wasn’t sure, but I think Shelly let out a tiny squeal of delight.

“Charmed, Milady Richardson.”

“Yeah, charmed,” I said flatly. “Shelly, this is Galen. Galen…Friesain. He’s from that other place.”

“Heaven,” Shelly said, though I wasn’t sure if she was describing that other place, or what she was feeling right then and there.

“I hate to break the mood here. But we’re actually on the clock. Shelly, what did you say about the body being moved?”

Reluctantly, Shelly broke eye contact with Galen. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I? Well, it’s because of your disappearance.”

“It is?”

“Of course, I tried to keep things quiet. I didn’t say anything to anyone when you up and vanished. But when you didn’t leave that evening to go home, two of McClatchy’s boys, the ones assigned to keep an eye on you, they called your disappearance in.”

A curse formed on my lips, but I held it back.

“Of course, Bob would be getting involved,” I said. “My disappearance would’ve been reported as a suspected kidnapping, or worse.”

“This all seemed to be tied in with that body you’re looking for, the one we named Connor McCloud. So McClatchy impounded it, had it put in the chiller’s vault.”

I could scarcely believe my ears. My gaze swiveled to the double-locked chamber in the next room. Shelly nodded when she saw my questioning glance.

“I’ve got the keys sitting on my desk. Third door on the right when you pass the entryway to the chiller,” Shelly said, and she looked up at Galen again. Then she turned her Texan drawl up a notch. “Darlin’, would you mind getting those keys for us?”

“Certainly,” Galen said.

No sooner had he left than Shelly guided me towards the vault, chattering non-stop.

“Whoo! You know how to pick ‘em, Dayna. And here I thought that you’d never get back with a man.”

“Shelly, it’s not what you think.”

“Oh, I’m sure it ain’t,” she said, brushing off my statement with a wave of her hand. “It’s better! He’s what, six foot six? Muscled top to bottom? And that mane of hair…I’m guessing he’s a Leo, right?”

“I haven’t asked,” I replied, as we came up to the steel wall of the vault. “But I’m pretty sure he’s a Sagittarius.”

“You think so?”

“It’d be really appropriate. Look, he’s only staying at my place temporarily. Until he goes back…back to where he came from.”

“Oh, spare me, Dayna.” She leaned in closer. “You don’t lower that wall of yours for all that many people. If Galen’s staying at your place, I just know that there’s more to it. What’s he like? Come on, dear, you can tell Shelly.”

“Fine,” I said, as I ran my hands over the two king-sized Master Locks on the vault door. “You want to know the truth? He’s hung like a horse.”

“I knew it!”

The jingle of keys on a chain announced Galen’s return. He smiled another winsome grin at Shelly as he handed them over. She fumbled the first attempt at opening the locks, but in no time, she’d rolled out the examination table with poor Connor McCloud’s body on it.

“I take it... that you’ve been cutting him?” Galen said, swallowing hard. “Doing what you wanted to do with King Benedict?”

“Yes,” I replied. “Sorry if this offends you, Galen.”

“I’m fine,” he sighed. “It just takes some getting used to.”

“Honey, step back and sit down,” Shelly said, nodding at a chair in the corner. “Won’t do us any good if you upchuck in here.”

“That sounds to me like a sensible idea. Quite.”

Galen moved to the seat, which I noted was still high enough so that he could see the body. I took a second look, too. The scale-like patterns on Connor’s skin had deepened into a dark mush of purple lines. A deep set of bruises that would never heal.

“Shelly figured a medieval origin for at least one of the weapons that killed this man,” I said, and Galen nodded. “She found a chunk of metal in one of the open slashes. I concurred, because I figured out that the pattern on the skin came from wearing chain mail.”

The wizard perked up at that. Galen got up and came back to the table. A deep frown beetled his brow.

“Surely, that can’t be right,” he said.

“It better be. What else could make those patterns?”

“I don’t doubt your expertise in this, Dayna,” Galen raised a hand, indicated the purple scale marks on the upper chest and arms. “And…yes, these marks are definitely in a mail pattern. Remember, my people are quite skilled at smithing mail rings. I know a good deal about the making and wearing of mail, and this doesn’t make sense.”

“If these marks come from mail, what doesn’t make sense?” This from Shelly. “Iron rings against skin would compress the epithelium, form the marks.”

“If the rings were against
skin
, Milady Richardson. But that’s not how it works. Neither of you have worn chain mail, I take it?”

“It’s not something I look for in the Nordstrom’s catalog,” I admitted.

“One does not wear mail against naked flesh. An undercoat or vest of leather is placed beneath. For the rings to impress the skin through that would require a tremendous amount of force.”

I pointed to the gaping wound where the man’s sternum should have been. “What about the firebolt that made the chest crater here?”

“Even that wouldn’t be enough,” Galen said, shaking his head. He paused for a moment before adding, “Unless the bolt was modified. Charged with more power than normal.”

“And why would someone do that?” I prompted.

“Dayna, in my world, there are artifacts that one could wear to shrug off a magical attack. Medallions, rings. These pieces are rare, very rare. Typically, they’re only worn by the nobility.”

“What about King Benedict?”

“Well, he’d probably have the best protection he could get. He was the king, after all.” Galen stared at me, comprehending. “And if you knew that you couldn’t harm him with magic…”

“You’d use a weapon from my world,” I concluded. “Like a high-powered rifle.”

“And you could collect any magical artifacts from your victims after they died. We know that the killer walked right up to Benedict to finish him. It wouldn’t have taken more than a moment to remove a ring or medallion.”

“When you all are done talking, fill me in,” Shelly interjected. “Because I think I’ve missed the train pulling out of the station on this one.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll fill you in later, I promise. We’ve been working on this case, and we’re under some time pressure.”

“That’s no problem, Dayna. Though you might be interested in one last thing we found. When McClatchy claimed the body as evidence, it allowed me to run some more detailed blood work.”

“Find anything interesting?”

“Hypercalcemia.” Galen gave her a blank look, so she added, “Extremely high levels of calcium in the blood. Definitely a warning sign of chronic kidney disease.”

I paused. “Bad enough to be symptomatic?”

“Oh, I reckon that he’d have had symptoms, all right. But we came up with zero signs of drugs in his system—legal or otherwise. Like he’d been managing this condition without a real doctor.”

“Or a doctor from his own world,” I said. A bunch of impressions came to me in a rush. Like my cranial switchboard just lit up, connected things with that same oddball
click
.

Albess Thea had said something similar to me. That she had difficulties ‘passing water’. That until recently, some of the nobles also had that problem.

Until recently?

Next, Thea had casually mentioned that owls and humans remedied things the same way. By consuming juniper berries. Before we’d been interrupted, I could have sworn that she’d handed me a made-for-Dayna riddle.

Juniper berries helped one to ‘nose out the truth’.

To help one go beyond the lids that can close.

To shut out the lies.

Where had I smelled juniper? Once? Twice?

Twice, I think. The memories swirled in my head, tantalizing, just out of reach. Then one memory came home to roost. When I first found Connor’s body.

“Are you all right?” Shelly put a hand out, but I stopped her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just a moment,” I said softly. I’d been looking over the body at the construction site. Detective Alanzo Esteban had been at my side. Right before Bob McClatchy had dug out his Vick’s ointment.

Go beyond the lids that can close. Shut out the lies.

I closed my eyes. Leaned forward over the pungent, fragrant corpse, and let my sense of smell do the work.

The charred, gamey smell of decomposing flesh. Sulfur, charcoal. And then, something else underneath the charred-sulfur odor. Dry, delicate like lace.

Gin-like.

And what kind of berry did one use to flavor gin?

I didn’t like the connections my mind was putting together. But I had to know if I was right. In a flash, I grabbed a scalpel from the set of tools placed at the head of the examination table.

I put the bright, gleaming filament of the blade down low, by the side of the corpse’s organ cavity. Galen let out a gasp, and Shelly looked at me strangely.

“Dayna, what are you–”

I ignored her and cut deep into the underlying tissue. Soon, I had the gap large enough to accommodate my clenched fist.

Without a second thought, I plunged my gloved hand into the wound.

Searching.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Galen and Shelly watched me as I pushed my hand deeper into the corpse.

Shelly with curiosity, Galen with something akin to horror. My fingers pushed and probed, searching. Then they closed around something small and hard. I continued deeper and came across another object. Then a third.

I’d found it.

Found
them
.

I pulled my hand back out. Gore the color of rotting plums coated my protective glove from the wrist on down. I unclenched my fist, and there, wobbling in my palm, were a trio of irregularly shaped white pebbles.

“Calcium deposits,” Shelly said, nodding. “I gather that means something to you two? ‘Cause I’m still wandering in the dark, here.”

I started to reply when I heard the heavy tread of a man’s footsteps approaching. I grimaced. No other doors down here. No other ways out. A shadow appeared just outside the room. I quickly motioned to Galen.

“Let me handle this,” I whispered. “Just stay quiet unless you’re spoken to.”