The Voodoo Killings (42 page)

“That sounds like a yes, not a maybe.”

“He was only supposed to last a week—just enough time to finish whatever paintings he was working on. That was the deal.”

“I see.”

“I’m a prime suspect in four murders, my zombie is broken, and your response is ‘I see’? Great.”

Lee tilted her head. “I would be sorely surprised if Aaron was behind this, Kincaid.”

“Were you listening?”

“I was. If Aaron were behind this, you would never have left that station.”

I started to object.

“Think, Kincaid,” Lee said. “With Maximillian gone, and no access to my city, you are the practitioner within his reach who meets the criteria. He would simply have planted evidence at the drug dealer’s murder scene.” She shook her head. “The more I think on this, the more I believe he is a pawn, like Max was.”

“You didn’t see how he looked at me, Lee.”

Lee cleared her throat. “Be that as it may, I think it more likely your own prejudices are colouring your judgment. In any event, even if he is involved, Aaron is not in charge.”

“You said it yourself: there are other practitioners, underground.”

“And that is where you should be until we identify the killer.”

I shook my head. “That just concentrates the pool of available victims.” Like herding sardines into a net…

Lee’s eyes darkened. “No one leaves or enters the city without my permission.”

Lee might be ruthless and resourceful, but she didn’t understand serial killers. “The only reason he hasn’t breached your defences is that he’s had easier pickings up here and on the outskirts of the underground city. If I head down there, we’ll just be giving him a reason to try his luck.”

Lee looked about as happy with that assessment as I figured she’d be.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. Randall. What could he want?

“Lee, I need to answer this.”

I’d barely said hello when he cut me off. “Kincaid, you still looking for people who have a grudge against zombies and practitioners?”

In all the turmoil of the last two days, I’d completely forgotten I’d
asked Randall to put his feelers out. “Yeah, but whoever’s behind the murders is a lot more dangerous than I thought. Stop looking right now, Randall. Don’t ask any questions. Anyone asks you what you know, especially Aaron—”

“Too late for that, Kincaid. Besides, I know how to be subtle. Got it into my head to tap some of my family’s old community connections. Heard something you definitely need to know.”

I didn’t want to be responsible for Randall being pulled into this mess. I covered the mic and glanced back towards the kitchen. Lee was working on Cameron again. No one would miss me if I made a quick pit stop at Randall’s to find out what he knew. I checked the time as I ducked into the bedroom. It was just before noon. The bar wouldn’t be open yet.

“Look, Randall, I’m coming over. Can you keep the place closed for another half-hour?” The last thing I needed was someone overhearing us.

“Sure, kid.”

I grabbed my jacket and checked outside the bedroom window. No sign of Aaron or his sedan. “I’ll be there in ten.” I hung up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Lee was standing in my bedroom doorway.

I filled her in. She was even less enthused than I’d expected. “Don’t go, Kincaid. You are taking an unnecessary risk.”

“Your objection has been duly noted.” I grabbed my bag and bike helmet.

“At least take Cameron with you,” she said.

“You just told me he wasn’t stable!”

“Around Otherside. I believe he should be fine to go with you to the bar. Anyone would think twice before attacking two individuals.”

“All right, I’ll take him. Watch for Nate, and let me know if he finds anything at Morgan’s. Call if anything disastrous happens, like Aaron showing up with a warrant.” I slid my jacket on and headed into the kitchen to wrangle my zombie.

“Kincaid?” Lee said in a tentative tone I wasn’t used to from her.

I glanced back.

“It has come to my attention you are still in contact with the sorcerer’s ghost.” She held up her hand before I could say anything. “I do not wish to argue. Just be wary of those who mask their intentions by offering assistance.”

She looked so serious, I could only nod.

“And please be careful,” she called after me.

I smiled to myself. “You only say that because you’ve never seen Randall’s baseball bat collection.”

—

I’d decided to take the back alleys in case anyone from the PD was following me. The smell of formaldehyde carried off Cameron and I was worried, if we got pulled over, the cops would pick up on it.

“Bring back memories?” I asked as we pulled into Catamaran’s.

He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. “It looks strange in the daylight. Dirtier.”

“Cameron, if you ever find a bar that doesn’t look seedy in the daytime, run for your afterlife, because there’s something wrong.”

He snorted and slid off the bike before I edged it into my hiding spot behind the green Dumpster. I grabbed the back screen door then stopped, scanning the area.

“What’s wrong?” Cameron said. He’d picked up on the change in my scent from the rush of adrenalin in my blood.

I scrutinized the back of the bar, then resigned myself to the fact I was paranoid. “Nothing,” I said. “I’m just used to Randall’s damn cat taking a swipe at me.”

My phone rang. Aaron. I didn’t answer.

It rang again. This was the last thing I needed.

“Just a sec, Cameron,” I said.

“Before you hang up, I know you aren’t behind the killings,” Aaron said.

I closed my eyes. “Yeah, because arresting and interrogating me is really the way to get that message across.”

“You were standing at a fucking crime scene—”

“What’s the deal with Neon?”

It took a second for him to clue in. “Morgan? She’s another suspect, one who’s missing, but I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that?” Aaron hadn’t lost his touch. “Kincaid, I didn’t know you were a potential target. Where are you?”

“I wasn’t a target? Aaron, just how many practitioners do you think there are in Seattle? And it’s none of your damn business where I am!” I hung up.

“What did that accomplish?” Cameron said.

“Either way, it should send him to Neon’s. If he was involved, he’ll know what to look for and where.”

“And if he wasn’t?”

“He’ll get a warrant and rip the place apart. Either way, it’ll help Nate.”

I pulled out my pocket mirror and scrawled,
Nate, heads-up for Aaron
.

“Come on,” I said to Cameron, and headed inside.

Randall was nowhere to be seen. “Randall?”

“Just a sec, kid,” I heard Randall call from the cellar where he stored the kegs. The only time he could haul them up was when the bar was empty. Why he wouldn’t hire more staff…

He appeared a moment later in the doorway behind the bar well, the one that led to the basement. “Hey, kid, let me just grab you the names—” He stopped when he saw Cameron and his easy smile fell.

“He’s okay,” I told him. “All fixed up.”

Randall didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue either. He also didn’t take his eyes off Cameron as he stepped behind the bar and held up a beer mug with a questioning tilt of his head. “How are things holding up?” he said.

I shook my head. The last thing I needed was a drink, and the less Randall knew about the whole disastrous mess the better. My conscience didn’t need anyone else turning up dead. “Let’s just say you were right, Randall—I need to learn when to quit.”

He nodded but still couldn’t seem to pull his eyes off Cameron. Finally, he said, “You mind if the zombie stays outside? No offence—”

I glanced at Cameron, who shrugged and started walking towards the back.

“I’ll be out in a few,” I said, and waited until I heard the back screen door swing shut.

Randall was still fiddling with glasses behind the bar. “You know anything more about the killer?”

“Well, I know there was more than one. Trust me, that’s all you need to know.”

He ducked down behind the bar to tap the kegs. “Kid, I got no problem saying this world keeps getting weirder and weirder. Get out while the going is good, come back when things blow over.”

“Yeah, well, too late for that. Don’t think I’d make it past the city limits.”

My phone buzzed. Nate. Before I could answer, I heard a scuffle from the front of the bar.

“Randall, did you hear that?”

“Probably your zombie,” he said. He was still kneeling behind the bar.

“It came from the front.” My phone rang again. “Randall, give me a sec, I need to get this.”

I headed over to where the pool tables were, in an alcove where I’d have a bit of privacy.

“Nate, what’s up?” I said.

“K, you alone?”

“I’m with Randall. Cameron’s stepped outside because he makes Randall nervous.”

“K, whatever you do, don’t look at Randall. I found something at Neon’s—a coaster from Catamaran’s with numbers written on it, including Cameron’s and the other victims’.”

“Nate, it’s a sports bar. A lot of people meet—”

“Yeah, but it didn’t seem like her kind of place. Remember she called you on slumming it there? Don’t answer me and don’t look at him, but did you know Randall’s kid died a few weeks back? Car accident, a bad one in the Philippines?”

“No,” I said, struggling to keep my voice conversational. “That
never came up.” In fact I remembered Randall saying that Michael was coming home in the next week or so….

“K, be careful,” Nate said, but a noise, like a chair scraping across the floor, demanded my attention.

I craned around the alcove to see three men at the front entrance. I couldn’t see their faces, but there was something about their movements that bothered me. Then they stepped under the light.

One of the men was wearing a red baseball hat and lumberjack jacket, while the other two wore jeans and flannel shirts. All three wore heavy workboots. It took me a moment, but I recognized them. They were the same men Randall had scared off the night I’d come to pick up Cameron, the ones who’d accosted me. They hadn’t been dead long, but the decay was obvious. Randall, oblivious behind the bar, dropped something and all three zombies turned their attention towards him. I focused on seeing the Otherside to check their bindings: all three were four-lines.

Shit. I put the phone back up to my ear. “Nate, call Aaron and tell him where I am.” Whether the zombies picked up my scent or heard my voice I don’t know, but all three turned their attention to me.

“Got to go, Nate,” I said, keeping the three zombies in view.

Randall swore. He was standing now, staring at the zombies as they dragged themselves across the floor towards me.

“Damn phones,” he said. “That’s the one thing I could never figure out: how to get a four-line zombie to ignore the damn phone.”

I swallowed hard as I backed into the pool table. “Randall, whatever they’ve offered you, whatever they’ve threatened you with, it’s not worth it.”

Randall didn’t look at me. “Well, you were right about one thing, kid. You never did know when to quit.”

I realized why Randall had his hands below the bar: to hide the aluminum bat.

“You were supposed to be in jail, kid, not able to walk into my bar.”

“Morgan set me up for that murder….” I trailed off. Hold on, I hadn’t told Randall about the last two murders, or my hours spent in jail.

Randall shook his head. “When Morgan didn’t show up, I figured she’d run into trouble. Should have gotten rid of her myself after the whole Cameron fiasco. Shows up in my bar with a fucking zombie.” He muttered in Filipino under his breath. “Couldn’t spot trick bindings from real zombie bindings to save her life. Messed up that ghost trap mirror I gave her to stick in your lobby. Was supposed to keep you busy looking for your ghost and out of my hair. Ought to thank that ghoul for taking care of her, though on the other hand, it’s yet another practitioner gone. You’d have been safe in jail, kid. I’d have found someone else….”

Keeping my eyes on Randall and the bat in his hands, I inched my fingers along my phone’s call screen.

“Don’t do it, kid. I’m old, but I’m still fast,” he said, pointing the bat at the phone.

I slid my phone back in my pocket, gauging how far the back door was from me.

I took a step, trying to wrap my head around everything. Randall’s family were practitioners, but as far as I knew, he’d never been. “You’re not even a practitioner,” I said.

“I’m better than most of you, kid,” he said. “I know how to hide it.”

Randall vaulted over the bar with ease and strode towards me. Like hell was I taking on Randall; I’d seen him break up too many bar fights with that bat.

“I really wish it hadn’t been you, Kincaid.” He barked a command at the three zombies and they stilled their advance.

Shit…

I ducked as the bat hit a wooden beam close enough for me to feel the air stir. I didn’t get a chance to be relieved as Randall readied for another swing. I pushed a chair in his way and dove under the pool table as the bat came down. The chair shattered. I smacked the top of my head against the underside of the table as I scrambled out of reach.

Randall frowned at having missed. I was running out of pool table.

“I was gunning for Max, you know. Wouldn’t have had a problem killing him. Or Morgan, for that matter.” Randall readied the bat over his shoulder. “You? I’m going to feel bad about you.”

Small fucking comfort…Randall edged around the pool table towards me.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned the last few weeks, it’s that kids never listen. That’s why we’re both here, isn’t it? Mike never listened to a thing I said about speeding, and what happens? He races a bike off a bridge and kills himself. That’s what kids do, though. You should have taken my advice and stayed the hell out of this. Just remember whose fault this is.”

“I know exactly whose fault all this is, Randall. Yours.”

Randall’s feet were less than a foot away. “I always liked you, Kincaid,” he said. “You were a good kid. I really hate to do this.”

Now
.

I tried not to picture my skull cracking under the bat and bolted for an oak table closer to the door. I scrambled under as the bat came down. Randall barked another command and the three zombies rushed to block the back door.