Demon Song (9 page)

I held up a hand. “Wait. Let’s talk this out for a second.” This might be a golden opportunity for some backroom dealing. I needed to tell someone official what was going on at the prison. Yes, Jones might take care of it, or his company might have been the
cause
of it. Tough to tell with shadowy government organizations. “I agree that the police should be immune to mental manipulation—even from me. That just makes sense. And I know people who would know what kind of charm would be effective against all sirens. What I’m leery about is giving the samples and how we can be absolutely positive that that’s
all
they’re used for. And frankly, I have a problem that you might be able to solve … or at least help solve. So, I’ll make you a deal.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded. “I’m listening.”

“The trick is that I can’t tell you everything about my problem without involving other people who don’t want to be involved.”

A second nod. “Still listening. Not liking, but listening.”

“First, let’s put the device on the desk, where we can both see that I’m not about to make an ‘open-mic gaffe.’ ”

The slim silver and black recorder was on the desk in moments. It was a tape unit, rather than digital. Not a big surprise. A lot of cops were back to using tapes after a recent case in Michigan where a digital recording had been altered by a simple spell. It had been good for the local economy. The tape-manufacturing plant at the edge of town that had closed in the nineties was back open and working three shifts to supply the sudden demand.

The tape wasn’t moving, but just to be safe Alex took out the microcassette and set it on the desk next to the unit. I took a deep breath and let it out slow as she reached for the red and silver can in front of her and took a long drink.

“There’s a demonic presence possessing guards and prisoners out at the zoo. I want the police to get some priests out there to cleanse the place before it spreads.”

Apparently, this bore no relation to whatever she’d thought I was going to say. Her eyes went wide and she spewed a mouthful of cola across my desk. I managed to scoot back fast to keep the spray off of my shirt. I grabbed tissues and started to clean spit and soda off the polished wood—and the tape and tape recorder. Her coughing fit would have made me laugh in other circumstances. Not today. Finally Alex got control of herself and said, “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

I leaned back in my chair, my head swimming. So many things I couldn’t say. “That’s the part I can’t tell you about. What I
can
say is that it showed on a detector and I confirmed it visually.” I held up my hands helplessly and stared into her wide green eyes. I knew I was asking for a lot. For a local police detective to question a state facility was bucking ten levels of protocol. Yes, I could call one of the warrior-priest organizations, but I’d be put on a list to
check it out
. A request from Alex would go to the top of the pile. “I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me on this. You know I wouldn’t ask unless I felt it was important.”

She began to tap her fingers on the desk. I didn’t realize she chewed her nails. I’d never noticed before. But they were down to bleeding on some fingers. She looked troubled. I needed to convince her, but how?

“Wait! Vicki was there, too. Would you do it if she confirmed it?”

Alex’s whole face brightened. It was well established in law that ghosts couldn’t lie.

Alex looked up. Her voice dropped to a reverent whisper. “Vick? You there, hon?”

There was no response. No chilling of the room, no breeze moving my hair. I was sorry but not surprised. “She was pretty tired. Did she visit you at all yesterday?”

Alex nodded. “She showed up right at dusk and listened while I ranted about my day. It’s not … not like it used to be, but it’s something. She left suddenly. I presume because you called?” There was a pain in her voice that I was powerless to remove. I didn’t know why Vicki would choose being with me in a crisis over being with her hurt and lonely lover. The siren queens claim Vicki’s my spirit guardian. I don’t know about that. I do know our friendship was strong enough to survive the grave. That’s enough in my book.

“She’ll probably be back later today. You can ask her then, when I can’t give her any hints. If it checks out, will you go?”

“That’s your only condition? You’ll give the samples if I do it?”

Now it was my turn to tap fingers. “I’d still like to check out what the charm needs to do … and
not
do. And I want guarantees there’ll be precautions against the samples being misused. But by tomorrow we should both know. Deal?”

She nodded. “What I can do until I hear from Vicki is check the board and the incoming bulletins, see if there have been reports of anything strange out there. I can do that without alerting anyone. We’re all supposed to look at those anyway, and I’m behind on them.” She smoothed her skirt as she stood. “If what you say is true, I’ll do whatever I have to do to get the priests out there, even if I have to drive one there myself.” She picked up the cassette and put it back in the machine. Without asking if I was ready, she pushed the record button. She remembered just where she left off. “Your incentive is to do the right thing. For yourself, for the people of this city, and for all of us who protect them.”

It was all true and, again, I didn’t disagree with the concept. I paused an appropriate length of time before responding. “I want to talk to a mage I know to find out more about the process … and the
consequences
. Call me tomorrow about this same time and I’ll have an answer for you. Deal?”

She reached across the desk with her right hand and also met my eyes in a way that wasn’t for the tape. “Deal.”

After a few more pleasantries to show she had taped the whole interview—as such—she left. I sat in my chair, thinking a thousand different thoughts.

6

By the
time I went downstairs, to both stretch my legs and take the soggy, sticky tissues to the main trash can in the kitchen—which got emptied every day, unlike mine, which I dumped whenever I got around to it—the investigator had arrived. I’d only worked with Shawn Beall once before, but he’d done a good job and had only charged for his actual time. When you’re a sole proprietor, money is the bottom line—regardless of the client’s ability to pay. My goal was not to gouge Vicki’s estate. I wanted the truth, whether it came cheap or expensive. But cheap was always better.

Shawn followed me back to my office and took the chair Alex had so recently vacated. Shawn is one of those guys you wouldn’t really look at twice. He looks like a computer geek … and he is. But the small frame, unruly dark hair, and pop bottle glasses hide a sneaky, near-criminal mind and a surprisingly athletic body. He’s got the wiry frame and agility of a long-distance runner along with the determination of a pit bull. The combination is the gold standard of a good investigator.

“So, what have you got for me?”

He pulled an envelope from an inner jacket pocket and handed it over. “Wish I had more, but there’s more dead ends than leads. Take a look. I’ll answer any questions I can.”

I slit the envelope and scanned the pages inside. The first page was a profile of one Michael Murphy, known as Mickey or Mick to family and friends. The photo was just as I remembered him at Vicki’s Will reading. Carrot orange hair was neatly combed to the side and a scattering of freckles dotted his face below vivid green eyes. I remembered a cultured southern accent that got stronger the more befuddled he was. There had been plenty to be surprised about that day. The only person more shocked than her parents, best friend, and lover to learn that Vicki had left a quarter of her multimillion-dollar estate to a total stranger was the stranger himself.

I’d been tasked to find out
why
she’d done it.

I was still wrapping my head around the fact that she’d trusted her clairvoyant gift enough to write a Will that would inevitably be challenged. While it was no crime to give money to a total stranger, it was a little odd and might lend credence to her mother’s allegation that Vicki wasn’t in her right mind.

So, my goal was to prove there was a good and valid reason for my friend’s act before the lawsuit went to court. Fortunately, the law firm Vicki had used was one of the best in the state, so I was pretty sure I’d have all the time I needed to search.

Mickey had a wife, Molly, and two daughters: Beverly, aged twelve, and Julie, who was eight. They lived in a comfortable home in Fool’s Rush, Arkansas, where Mickey was a law clerk for the local county judge. Molly ran a diner she’d inherited from her parents, and the girls were above-average students. “Okay, so pretty normal people.” I flipped the dozen pages. I didn’t want to sit here and read while Shawn stared at me. “Give me the condensed version.”

“Sure,” he said with a nod. He settled back into the seat and interlocked his fingers over his stomach, his arms resting comfortably on the padded rests. “I checked all the obvious connections first. Vicki is English on her mother’s side and, despite the surname, German on her father’s. Cassandra Meadows can trace her lineage to the
Mayflower
and, trust me, a thousand fans have done so quite convincingly. Jason Cooper’s grandfather emigrated from Germany after the First World War—the family surname was formerly Braun. Nobody really knows how or why the name was changed at Ellis Island, but it appears the government had something to do with it. I’ll have to do more checking, but it looks like Franz Braun was a chemical scientist and our government wanted something he’d invented.” That piqued my curiosity and I began to ask questions, but Shawn held up a hand bearing a rather heavy gold wedding ring to stop me. “That doesn’t really matter right now, because Mickey Murphy’s family comes from old Irish stock. Molly is apparently quite the amateur genealogist and was happy to show me the scrapbooks she’s put together.”

Since the investigation had been requested in front of Mr. Murphy, it seemed logical to have Shawn interview them openly. “Mickey’s multi-great-grandfather came to this country to help the colonists fight England. He used his salary to bring his wife and kids over. No prior trips to either Germany or England and I can’t find anything to indicate that the Murphys or DeVeres—Molly’s family—ever mingled or crossed paths with the Coopers or Meadowses. Of course there could be something that I missed, since I’m not a specialist in such things. I hope it’s okay that I subcontracted out part of the search to a company that specializes in lineage searches.”

I like it when investigators don’t try to reinvent the wheel. Find people who do the specific job, pay them, and get back to work. “No problem at all. Is the information in here to give to the attorney?”

He nodded. “At this point, I’m wondering how you want me to proceed. I could sit back and wait for the genealogy report, or look for something in the present time that directly ties Ms. Cooper to the Murphys. It could be as simple as them meeting at some point in the past that she didn’t consciously remember. A flat tire he helped fix, a really good meal at Molly’s diner, who knows? Finding that out would require lots of interviews and time on the road. And it might turn up nothing. Ultimately, how much money do you want to throw at this?”

Well, Vicki could be absentminded. It was the mark of clairvoyants that they could disappear into the future and totally forget what was happening in the present. So it might well be that simple. “Speaking of being on the road, the summer after college Vicki took a long trip to ‘find herself.’ She rented a car and drove from her mother’s place in New York to her own home, California. I’d gotten the impression at the time that it was a fast trip, just a few days. But maybe it had taken longer. Maybe things happened that she just didn’t remember, a hundred visions and a half decade later.”

He tilted his head with an odd look and pulled a pad from his pocket. “First time I’m hearing that, and I spent a couple of hours talking to her parents.” His pen tapped on the page. “New York to California, huh? A lot of ground to cover in a couple of days. Do you remember anything she told you? You were best friends even then, right? Did she rave or rant about anything?”

“No, I just remember her mentioning what she called her
senior trip
. I’ll work on it overnight. Maybe something will pop into my head.”

He tapped the pen on the pad for a moment and then nodded. “Okay. But it could be the key to everything, so think really hard. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Same time?”

I flipped the calendar a day and then checked my watch. It was nearly noon. My only morning appointment was at ten. “How about eleven? My afternoon’s packed, and I might need driving time.”

Shawn pulled out his BlackBerry and punched the screen a few times. “Done and done.” He stood up and pointed the pen at me. “Think hard,” he repeated. “This could be the difference between a short search and one that takes years.”

I agreed. “I’ll pull out all the stops. I promise.” I desperately hoped I wasn’t lying, but I feared I might be. I did know a couple people who might be able to help, but it was a long shot at best.

He let himself out while I gathered together my purse and car keys. Moments later I walked past the front desk, mulling over the dozen things I still needed to do today, like remember to look for the fly in my car. I held out a hand expectantly and, as always, Dawna responded by stuffing a stack of messages into it.