Cupid (7 page)

“Do you have a list of the possible new victims?”

“Yes.”

“I want it, and any other information you can get me.”

“Why?”

“I’m funding this. It should prove that I’m just as intrigued as you are.” He raised one eyebrow. “What else did you discover?”

“I think I know Cupid’s motive.”

He stiffened. “Do tell.”

“Well, maybe motive is too strong. I think I am understanding why he kills. He thinks he’s protecting people.”

Asher looked away and hoped she didn’t notice, the awkwardness creeping around his eyes. This was supposed to be a fun evening, filled with quirky comments and titillating conversation.

He hadn’t intended for Diana to peg him as adequately as she did.

“Mrs. Carson, I think you’re jumping ahead of yourself right now. Maybe, it’s due to the tragedy of this morning. Either way, I think we should just focus on the three murders, we’re sure of.”

“I won’t argue against your opinion.” She smirked. “I tend to go pretty fast when I investigate. Let’s focus on the three murders, so you can catch up.”

He ignored the slight, knowing that he’d probably deserved it. “Very well. Help me catch up, as you said. So, the police only connected three murders—Thomas Nickelson, owner of Lenwood Oil was the first body that they found with a hole in his chest that could be made with an arrow.”

“Yes.” She nodded. “Thomas was found in his daughter’s room. This murder interested me more than the other ones, so I started with him first. I just kept wondering, why would Cupid kill this man, and then leave the dead body in the guy’s daughter’s bedroom. What was he trying to say?”

It took all of Asher’s energy to keep himself still. This was not as fun as he thought it would be. Earlier, he figured it would be interesting to get another’s opinion on his secret activities, maybe play a little with the person’s mind.

This was not fun. This was torture. And he had to endure it because he’d brought it all on himself.

Diana was just as good as his research had claimed. Although surely she possessed the face and body to climb up the new paper ladder of success, she’d done it with her brain.

Diana continued with her discussion, ignoring the tension that radiated from Asher’s stiff frame. “My further investigating found that Thomas’s daughter had confessed to friends that her father was touching her inappropriately. She’d also told another in secret, that she saw the killer.”

“What?”

“She said, that night a man left her room right as she woke up and in the next few seconds, she spotted her dad on the floor with a hole in his chest—”

“Wait,” he might’ve said too abruptly. “Further investigation? I met you this morning and am now seeing you this evening. You only had some of the day to investigate and already you have some witness’s account? ”

“Yes, the daughter saw a man. I talked to her best friend, a cheerleader for Ovid High.”

Asher looked past her to calm down. “Did the daughter describe the man to her friend?”

“No. She didn’t get a good look at him. She told the police that he wore all black, maybe a one piece or body suit. The room was dark. He had on a black hat too. She didn’t get his hair color. She was only sure that he was white, but that’s not hard to guess being that whites represent 85% of the island’s population.”

I didn’t know the kid saw me. When did she wake up? I’m glad I didn’t move Thomas. She kept tossing and turning. Plus, I hadn’t want her to wake up to his dead body. Seeing your dead father is never good for sleep in the future. But, she kept tossing and turning.

“And then we have Jackson Mirabelli.” Diana tucked some of her waves behind her ear. “He went upstairs with a woman who no one could find after the scene. The police originally assumed that a woman was involved. My friend got me the file to the case.”

A weird darkness fell over him. He wasn’t sure if he’d somehow shifted into the hunt or was drowning in unease. The urge to hurt something hit him, but he couldn’t point out why.

“The investigation file?” he asked.

“Yes. I read over it today.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Very.”

She’d found eight of his murders in just half of a day, as well as got classified police files. What would she discover in months of investigating him? Maybe, this was a bad idea. Maybe, mother was right. I am a fool.

Asher wiped the sweat off of his forehead.

“I did several news pieces on Jackson a few years ago. One thing that the man loved besides drugs, was women. Prostitutes to be exact. Ovid Island has its secrets, but most aren’t well hidden.” She winked. “I happen to know the madam of the most used sex service for the island.”

He tensed in his suit. “Interesting. Did you find the woman that was with Jackson that night?”

“Yes.”

His nostrils flared. “And what did she have to say?”

Diana hugged herself as if she was freezing. “She said a man came out of the closet of his bedroom, dressed in all black, and with a mask on his face. He held a bow and arrow, and pointed it at her.”

“But he didn’t kill her,” Asher declared, more to push the fact that maybe Cupid wasn’t that bad of a guy. “It doesn’t seem like the murderer kills everyone, just certain people.”

“Exactly. He didn’t hurt her at all. The escort said that he told her she could leave, but that Jackson had to remain.”

I should’ve killed her.

“Did she say anything else?” he asked.

“She said that she didn’t get a description of him and truthfully didn’t want to discuss it anymore. Absolutely refused to go to the police with the information, but. . .”

“But what?” Asher asked.

“She said that as she was leaving she heard the killer say something about how Jackson had hurt his sister.”

Yes, I should have killed her.

“Then we have Neil.” She walked away from the balcony’s ledge and began to slowly pace back and forth. With each step, the bottom of her gown slid against the balcony’s marbled floor and her heels clicked. “What I found intriguing was that Cupid never killed—”

“I’m sorry.” Wrinkles crossed his forehead. “Why are you calling the murderer Cupid?”

“It’s something that I do. I label the wrong-doers that I report on by whatever I think motivates them.” She continued to pace. “It helps me stay detached from the person. If I know the killer’s first and last name then I start thinking about who they are and where they come from. . .it all takes me out of the hunt—”

“Hunt?”

She stopped pacing and stared at him. “You interrupt a lot. Let me just go over Neil’s death.” She gulped in some air and then returned to the topic. “For the other two murders, Cupid didn’t kill the survivor. Thomas’s daughter and Jackson’s prostitute.”

She went back to pacing. “All evening while I got dressed, I kept wondering, why, over and over, would Cupid kill Neil’s mistress, but let the other females go? Why not let the mistress go like he did with the others.”

Asher leaned back onto the balcony’s ledge. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Cupid doesn’t just murder people,” she argued. “He has a clear, precise reasoning for why he takes lives. All three men were rich. All three considered harmful to females in some way. Thomas probably hurt his daughter. Why would a kid still claim that to her friend privately after her father’s already dead? Because she’s still dealing with the trauma of it all, that’s what I think.”

Diana sort of hit the air as if she was giving a low high-five to an imaginary person in front of her. “Thomas’s prostitute said that Cupid said something about him hurting his sister.”

“But we don’t know if Thomas actually hurt his sister.”

“It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that Cupid thought that Thomas hurt his sister.” Her pacing picked up, the gown swooshing along the floor and lifting a little with the wind. “Here we go again. We have a rich man that is doing something wrong to a female. Now go to Neil.”

She stumbled for a second as if even thinking about her ex-husband was hard to do, like she was close to doubling over, if she didn’t try to walk on. “Neil was married to me for several years. I’d caught him cheating many times. He also was emotionally abusive. I’m not saying that I’m this battered women. There are many wives all over the world that have been dealt evil husbands. And besides, some of it was my fault.”

Perplexed, Asher tilted his head to the side. “How was anything Neil did to you, your fault?”

“I stayed.”

“Most abused women do.”

“I doubt that.”

“Trust me. It’s the truth.” The sight of his father slamming his mother into the floor flashed through Asher’s mind. He ran his fingers through his hair and knocked that image away. “Never blame yourself for the cruelty of a man.”

“Still, I stayed with him, and that’s not the point—”

“Why do you think you stayed?” Asher raised a blonde eyebrow. “Did you love him?”

She exhaled. “I stayed. That’s all that is important to this situation. Regardless, Neil is another rich man that’s hurting a female. So why would our serial killer hurt his mistress too?”

“Why do you think?”

“Cupid must have believed that the mistress was guilty too. She was his secretary on a small community of an island. She would’ve known that Neil was married, and could care less to sleep with him.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you call this man Cupid.”

“Or woman.”

He stifled in a chuckle. “Excuse me?”

“I still haven’t decided if Cupid is even a man. Sure, we have witnesses that say otherwise, but I never rule anything out until the end. One thing is for sure, Cupid feels a certain need to protect females from harmful men. These are planned and researched kills.”

Asher had no more words.

He was too busy being caught up in Diana. Back and forth, back and forth, she threw out ideas and thoughts without any fear of what it could do to her. Energy shifted around her. Things sparked in the air, or maybe it was just his imagination. Her face brightened with each rant. Eyes glittered with courage.

Luckily, the balcony door was closed, and the rest of The Cove’s patrons dined inside, listening to smooth jazz and sampling on delicious food. They didn’t hear the facts. No one would spread the news about his murders and get people’s eyes opening a bit more.

Luckily, he still didn’t think Diana was in danger of knowing his secret, that he was the killer, and thus in danger of dying right there on that balcony, in that lovely empire halter gown that fell to the floor.

Luckily, he didn’t like to kill women.

Luckily, something inside of him urged to not kill her.

Luckily, she’s so damn beautiful.

“Have you told all of this to the police yet?” he asked.

“No.” She ran her manicured fingers through her hair. “Being a nosy reporter I don’t actually have a good relationship with the police. I’ve been charged unrightfully for tampering with witnesses and evidence. I need something that I can really bring to them. I do have one friend there, now. I won’t go to him with my thoughts until I have more supporting evidence.”

“What about the two witnesses you talked to?” Asher asked.

“In the end, I won’t be able to use either one of them.” She turned around and walked back in the other direction. “I won’t mess with Jackson’s daughter. She’s been through enough. And I’m sure that the prostitute that I talked to this afternoon has probably fled and is several thousand miles away from the island.”

She better be, if she’s smart.

“And although I told my one friend in the police center about my own possible meeting with Cupid, I don’t think he believed me. Why would he?” She ceased with the pacing. “I barely saw him. Truthfully, I’m not even sure he was even in the room when I. . .well. . .when I walked into the kitchen where. . .he’d probably been killing my husband right there.”

She hugged herself tighter. “I felt something in that room. It was thick and hot and cold at the same time and. . .”

“What?”

“Alive. Electric.” She covered her face with both hands. “I’m sorry. I know I sound insane. Besides, I haven’t slept. Tonight was a mistake. I’m surviving off of my fifth cup of coffee. We should probably do this again.”

Asher got up from the ledge, not liking where the conversation was now going. Funny how when she’d been slowly revealing him as a killer it had rattled him, but her possibly leaving . . .that fucking outraged him.

“Maybe, The Cove is exactly what you need.” He took his time walking to her as if rushing her way would cause her unease. “Let’s get you some food, an appetizer or if you have enough energy the five course meal I had planned for us. There’s dancing inside and amazing music. They only hire the most celebrated artists.”

“I’m sure they do, but this Cupid thing and everything else—preparations for Neil’s funeral and—”

“Let’s have you sit down.” He captured her hand. It was warm against his skin as she curled her fingers around his. Energy sparked wherever she touched, shooting wickedness up his arm and down into his groin. “Let me take care of you. If you’re even too tired to walk, I’ll lift you up and carry you in my arms.”

In that moment, he crouched down to get ready to pick her up.

“Oh no.” She backed up. “I’m fine. I just—”

“Yes, emotional wreck, mourning ex-husband, obsessed with Cupid’s killings, and only running on coffee. You’ve listed a lot of problems, but you’ve forgot your biggest problem.”

She looked into his eyes. “What’s that?”

“It’s been a long time since someone’s taken care of Diana.”

“I’ve always been provided for by Neil.”

Asher might’ve stared too long at her, and even licked his lips right before he said, “There are ways that a real man can tell when a woman has not been taken care of properly.”

He closed the distance between them, but didn’t alarm her, by taking her into his arms, which he’d craved. “There are signs.”

He tucked some of her hair behind her ear, just for an excuse to touch her, to feel the silk of her skin for a few seconds. “It’s in the way she walks, the way she moves her lips to speak.”

He bit his own bottom lip. “It’s in her scent.” He inhaled her, and Diana’s eyes widened. “It’s in the subtle sound of her voice, the way she looks away. . .”