Nothing soured my day quite like gunfire and bodies.
The gunfire, two ear-piercing shots, led me to the bodies. The busy steps ascending to Park Lane’s parking lot made a terrible place for a murder. As though in celebration of the deaths of a young woman and her son, confetti rained down from the nearby second-story roof.
In the moments it had taken me to round the corner, the killer had escaped, two bodies and scraps of paper the only evidence of his deed. A single glance told the bitter truth: bullets to the head killed instantly, merciful as far as brutal murders went.
With a heavy heart, I retrieved my phone and called the police.
“9-1-1. What’s your name, your number, location, and the nature of your emergency?” a man asked in a gravel-rough voice.
I gave him everything he’d asked for before stating, “There’s been a double homicide at Park Lane near the parking lot. A woman and her child were shot in the head.”
“How long ago? Did you witness the incident?”
“No, sir. I was down the street, heard the gunfire, and found them on the steps.”
“Has anyone else been injured, Mr. Clinton?”
“No, sir. The shops are crowded, but it doesn’t seem like anyone else has been hurt.”
“Please stay where you are. Do you know if anyone is armed?”
“Sir, we’re in Texas. I’m probably the only one who isn’t armed. No one I can see actively has their firearm out. I didn’t see the shooter, but I think he fired from the roof.”
“Why do you believe that?”
“The woman and child were shot through the top of their heads, sir. Someone has also dumped scraps of papers onto the steps.”
The scraps still rained down, caught on the breeze and swirling towards the sidewalk and parking lot.
“Officers are on route to your location, sir. Can you please give me your description?”
I complied, wondering if the cops would identify me from my hat, or their knowledge of me as a PI with a reputation of sticking my nose where it didn’t belong.
By some miracle, everyone on the street gave the bodies a wide berth. It didn’t save the evidence from blowing away, and several scraps of the confetti, made of newspaper clippings, found their way into my pocket, stuck in my hair, and otherwise turned me into walking evidence.
Sirens announced the arrival of the police, and I sighed my resignation when a midlife-crisis-turned-cop led the charge. During his political career, Maxwell Smith had single-handedly set back women’s health by a decade, triggered an endemic of newborn fatalities, and otherwise destroyed stable family life for Texans before a severe case of humility and morality led him to paying penance working the streets as an officer of the law.
When I could ignore his sins, I liked the man despite his enjoyment of giving me a hard time.
“Aaron,” he greeted, taking the steps two at a time to join me. When he spotted the bodies, he whistled. “That’s brutal. You didn’t see the shooter?”
I knew the drill; to keep my PI license intact, I needed to clear myself as quickly as possible. “I’ll verify everything I witnessed and my innocence by angel at the station. I was down the lane buying bribes for Sassy.”
“That girl’s going to kill you one of these days. Stick around and don’t touch anything,” he ordered.
Beyond the confetti pieces I’d pocketed, fouling evidence was last on my list of things to do. “I have an engagement at eight-thirty. Wish I could give you something concrete, but I was around the corner when the shooting happened. I didn’t see anything.”
“I’d call that partner of yours to cover for you. I think you’ll be busy, even with angelic verification. The chief wants us thorough on the cases involving kids. My shift ends at seven, and I have no idea who you’ll be with if you’re still in questioning.”
In Maxwell Smith’s language, he wanted to talk off the record about the murders, he’d probably pull strings to make sure I got out the same time he did, and I’d save myself a lot of aggravation if I went with what he wanted. I couldn’t imagine what he wanted to talk to me about. I’d find out soon enough.
I dug out my phone and dialed Sassy’s number.
“What do you have for me, Aaron?” my partner growled.
“I need help with a job, and I bought you two pairs of shoes for a stay of execution. There’s been a double homicide at Park Lane. I was around the corner and called it in. I need you to put on your new shoes and go to a party for me. Formalwear. I’ll also need you to extend my apologies to someone.”
“Sure. I can do that. I can be at Park Lane in twenty. Call me if they take you to the copper shop.”
“What about your date?”
“Cheetahs,” she hissed.
“Caught him with his tongue down his buddy’s throat?” I guessed.
“Basically. If this didn’t happen at least once a week, I’d ask if you were following me.” She sighed. “Again. I’m impressed you didn’t shadow me today.”
“Had I been available, I might have. I have to practice shadowing, and someone has to bail your ass out when you forget to watch where you’re walking. I’m concerned. The one pair of shoes has a heel.”
“You’re joking about shoes when I know you can’t stand them. You’re rattled. Who was shot?”
“A mom and her kid.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Twenty minutes, Aaron. No one likes the cases with kids, so sit tight, don’t touch anything, and play nice with the police officers.” Sassy hung up, and I returned my phone to my pocket.
It was a good thing I wasn’t a cop. If I got a hold of the killer, I doubted the bastard would make it to trial. Some things I couldn’t forgive, and young lives ended early topped the list.
No matter how many times I swore off women, whenever Sassy came around, I forgot all the reasons why and risked dying from suffocation. Holding my breath while watching her, a haphazard blend of feline grace, clutzy charm, and tanned Texan cowgirl, might kill me one day.
If she liked me half as much as my bribe of shoes, I’d be set for life. She snatched the bag and invitation out of my hands, bouncing from foot to foot while digging for her prizes. The gathered cops, working hard to make sense of a senseless murder, stopped and stared.
I remembered I needed to breathe. “Sassy. We’re at a crime scene.”
Without looking away from my bribes, she pointed behind her. “There’s a spent casing in the step’s shadow in the confetti someone missed.”
Sure enough, she pointed right to the missed evidence.
“I’m going to buy you a cheap pair of shoes for that.” I marveled at her photographic memory, the original reason I’d joined forces with her. I tailed people better than she did, she caught the little details I missed, and we both did well at interviewing and intel gathering for defense attorneys, which made up half our workload.
Without that damned case from a few months ago, it would’ve made up the entirety of our workload.
“These are good. Your best friend was about to find it anyway.”
Maxwell sighed. “You don’t have to live up to your name, Sassy.”
“Screw you, Max. Has Aaron gotten around to requesting an angel yet?” She abandoned her examination of her new shoes to give the cop her full attention. “I’ll be accused of having rabies if he hasn’t.”
“It was the first thing he did when we arrived. I already called it in. Keep your rabies to yourself, Sassy. If you need a dose of neutralizer, go to the clinic. I’m not your personal supplier.”
I tensed, ready to grab my partner around the waist so she wouldn’t assault an officer and lose her PI license. “Sassy, if you need to vent about your scumbag date, come over to my place tonight after the party.”
I wanted to suggest she wear her blue dress with her new shoes, but that would send the wrong but also right message. If she came over, I kept a stock of treats meant to keep cranky cheetahs happy. A happy cheetah purred, and if I got lucky, she’d shift for me.
I’d never live it down if Sassy figured out I’d violated my sacred vow of never loving a woman again. If she realized I wanted to offer what she hunted with other men, we’d fight. By the end of said fight, I’d either be left on the curb or infected with lycanthropy. I hedged my bets on the curb.
We’d partnered together because we were utterly incompatible.
I wore my clothes to death. She worshipped new shoes. She drank. I grabbed a beer every blue moon. I still snuck smokes in the back. She was allergic to cigarette smoke and always caught me.
I’d forced her to coin cheetahs never win thanks to an ill-timed cig.
Neither of us acknowledged a painful truth: we wanted the same thing.
Sassy tugged on my jean jacket. “You okay, Aaron?”
“I hate when kids are brought into it. What a fucking waste.” I told the truth yet I lied. I did hate when kids became involved in the problems of adults. I hated my helplessness more. If I’d moved faster, if I’d been closer, could I have stopped one of them from dying? I had no idea if the shooter had gunned down mother or son first. It didn’t matter. I replayed the seconds between their deaths and my arrival over and over again.
If I'd arrived ten seconds sooner, could I have done something to save one of them?
The past I couldn’t change would haunt me for a long time.
Maxwell thumped my shoulder. “If you ever get tired of being a PI, join the force. You could do good things. I have.”
I wished I could forget Maxwell’s past. I bet he wished he could, too. The chasm of bad choices and circumstance divided us, but I pushed my feelings aside and buried them for a while. He tried to pay penance for his sins.
I couldn’t say the same for most.
“We’ll see. Maybe if I finally get tired of figuring out who cheated who and snap.” I shrugged. “I respect your beat, Max. You’ve got a tough job.”
He carried the burden of saving lives on his shoulders.
I searched for the truth on behalf of the defense. If Max and his fellow officers found the killer and an attorney approached me for the case, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. I wanted the truth, but the idea of helping a lawyer defend a killer of children didn’t sit well with me. I didn’t trust myself to look for the unbiased truth.
It might result in an innocent going to jail.
“Give it some thought. The two of you would make a good pair.”
Sassy growled. “I don’t have the hybrid form, Max.”
“Tough luck. Well, I still think you’d make a good cop despite your feline disposition. Go on and get out of here before you earn a case of rabies along with your scratching post.”
“You’re an ass, Max. And Aaron isn’t my scratching post.”
“Why not? He’d be a good catch for you. We’ve all heard you yowling about how useless unmated cheetah males are. I’ve witnessed it for myself. Aaron is capable of tying his own shoelaces without help.”
I counted to ten, my estimated time for Max’s jab to sink in and blow a fuse in Sassy’s head. I made it to eight before my partner hissed, stomped down the steps, hissed again, and howled, “Men are jerks!”
“I can’t tell if you’re a help or a hindrance, Max,” I admitted.
“I’m helping. I planted the seed you’re a viable solution to her dating problems. I’ve bought my wife shoes from that store, Aaron, and a man doesn’t just buy any old girl shoes from that store without a lot of love and money involved. A lot of money. That said, she’s out of your league, but I tried. Good luck. You’re going to need it. Now, let me see where we’re at and get you to the station for a proper questioning session. I’ll check on the status of the angel while I’m at it. There’s been a wait for them lately.”
“Off the record, any reason why?”
“Stalkers. Women have started asking for angels to prove they haven’t done anything to deserve the unwelcome advances of their stalkers. It’s a mess.”
Sometimes, I really hated Texas, its backwater ways, and so many who insisted on treating women like fodder or accusing them of guilt for the crimes of men. I’d heard Sassy rant.
No matter what, it was her fault.
She wore too much. She wore too little.
Her shoes were too flashy. Her shoes weren’t flashy enough.
She’d made eye contact. She hadn’t made eye contact.
Sassy counted herself as lucky. Lycanthropy gave her an easy out plus sharp claws and teeth. It helped, but I still worried.
Everything circled back to her belief that she never won at life, beginning before birth and being infected with the lycanthropy virus, the middle child of a pair of cheetahs determined to up the percentage of feline lycanthropes without help.
“This city pisses me off.”
“Cool your heels, Aaron. Get through questioning, and as soon as I’m off shift, we’ll go grab a beer. Well, I’ll grab a beer while you nurse a coffee.”
Fuck it. “I’ll have a beer, but you’re buying and driving.”
“Well, I know you’re having a rough day when you decide it’s time for a drink. No worries. I’ll get you home safe and sound.”