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Morning came way sooner than Rick anticipated. His phone rang at five in the morning from a number he didn’t recognize. He ignored it the first time, but reluctantly picked it up the second.
“McCoy.” He groggily squinted at the digital clock beside his bed. It was going to be a long day.
“Rick, this is Dante. Charles gave me your number.” Agent Brand’s soft voice greeted him. “He said you were willing to give it a shot, so we have a case, if you’re up to it. A murder victim was found behind Carlo’s Pizzeria when he came in to open it this morning.”
“Give me half an hour to shower and dress, and I’ll be there.” Rick hung up, wondered briefly how long it took Dante to primp in the morning, decided that kind of speculation probably wasn’t a good way to start their partnership, and threw off the covers to get going.
After his shower, he shot off a text to his girlfriend, Gracie. He’d come to DC expecting discipline, and got a job offer instead. He needed to talk to her, but she probably wasn’t even up yet, and likely wouldn’t have time to talk before she started teaching her kindergarten class anyway. MEETING WENT WELL. GOT A PROMOTION. CALL ME AFTER SCHOOL. Satisfied that the text sounded appropriately upbeat, Rick pocketed his phone and got in the car.
He stopped at a coffee shop on his way and got a cup of the biggest, strongest coffee they offered for himself and caramel macchiato for Dante. Not that he had any idea what his new partner drank, he just couldn’t see someone as prissy as Agent Brand taking his black, and going full snowflake with a soy milk latte seemed a bit too far.
He got to the scene to find it already cordoned off and a team of uniformed police officers running the perimeter. He flashed his badge to the nearest officer and carefully made his way to where Dante was crouched next to a body.
“Catch me up.” Rick offered the drink to Dante who thanked him, but didn’t even ask what it was.
“Night shift manager. She lived alone and wasn’t missed when she didn’t come home last night. Carlo came to open for the day and found her like this. He called the police and they called us.”
“It looks pretty cut and dried to me.” Rick leaned forward to look at the body. It was a short, heavyset woman with her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. She wore the uniform of the pizzeria and black industrial loafers. It looked like she’d been attacked by a stray dog. There were defensive bite marks on her hands and arms, and while they bled profusely, they weren’t the cause of death. The dog had apparently gotten her down and went for her throat. It was a terrible way to go, sure, but nothing really “paranormal” about it. “She probably smelled like food when she left the store. A hungry stray attacked and she tried to defend herself. Why call you instead of animal control?”
“We requested the case.” Dante pulled a silver pen from his jacket pocket and used it to point to the wounds. “These bite marks are larger than any normal stray would make, and it is rare for a stray dog to go in for the kill like that. We have staff who monitor police bands for cases like this and notify us so we can request jurisdiction. They rarely complain.”
“Okay.” Rick drew the word out slowly. “What else do we have?”
Dante sat back on his heels and looked up at him. “Local LEOs canvassed the scene for clues, but found nothing helpful. The owner of the restaurant is inside, if you would have any questions?”
“What questions are we going to ask? Have you seen any gigantic strays hanging around?” Rick lowered his voice. “Are we pretending all our cases are normal, or going with the werewolf attack theory?”
“You may do as you like.” Dante gave him a wide smile as he stood to his feet and straightened his suit, the same one he’d worn the previous day, but with a tan turtleneck. “Let me warn you, though, that this case will be solved much quicker if we approach it as a murder.”
“How about a friendly bet?” Rick smiled back. “If it’s a perfectly non-paranormal explanation, you buy me dinner. If it ends up being an episode of X-files, I’ll buy.”
“I hope you’re flush at the moment, my favorite French diner is rather expensive.” Dante opened the door to the diner and gestured to a distraught, red-faced man sitting at one of the tables. “Monsignor Carlo, I am deeply sorry for your loss.” Dante bowed to the man slightly and spoke to him in what Rick guessed to be Italian. He handed him his own handkerchief to dry his eyes instead of the coarse cloth table napkin, then switched to English. “My name is Dante Brand, and this is my partner Rick McCoy. We are here to help the police investigate what happened.”
Rick tried not to roll his eyes. Most of the international restaurant owners were at least second generation Americans and couldn’t speak their native language any better than Rick could.
“Grazi.” Carlo’s accent was thicker than Dante’s and he sounded truly grateful for Dante’s thoughtfulness. “She was my wife’s sister. How am I going to explain this to her?”
“We are still trying to explain it ourselves.” Dante sat across from him at the table, took a notepad from the inside pocket of his jacket, and opened the notepad. “Have you noticed anything strange around the restaurant lately?”
“Nothing like this, no. This is a fine Italian neighborhood.” Carlo swore in Italian. “We have our problems, but nothing like this.”
“The Vizzini's make sure of it, no?” Dante’s soft voice grew softer, more sympathetic.
Now Rick did raise an eyebrow. The Vizzini family was a local crime family. Did Dante think this was a mob shakedown?
“Giancarlo is a personal friend. The family is not involved here.” Carlo bristled. “Angela was even seeing Joey Vizzini.”
“Everything was good between her and her boyfriend?” Rick asked. Mob bosses were completely within the normal realm and something he was very comfortable with.
“Eh. Better than some of my employees' relationships. Everyone has problems, you know?” Carlo shrugged and frowned. “But I don’t think Joey would sic a dog on her.”
Rick thought of his text to Gracie and agreed. Every relationship had problems, but Gracie wouldn’t sic a dog on him for transferring to DC without discussing it with her... Though she might break up with him. The thought turned his stomach, and he surreptitiously slid his phone from his pocket to glance at the screen. Nothing yet.
“Thank you.” Dante snapped the notebook closed and stood abruptly. “We will let you know if we discover anything.”
He left the restaurant quickly with Rick at his heels. Something Carlo had said meant something to the flamboyant agent, but for the life of him Rick couldn’t figure out what.
“We need to speak with Joey Vizzini immediately. Can you drive?” Dante asked urgently as they left the restaurant.
“Yeah, my car is parked out front. Commando Green Jeep.” Rick pulled his keys and hit the unlock button. The car chirped and flashed its headlights. “What happened?”
“I will tell you, but you will not like the explanation.” Dante kept his voice low as if not wanting to be overheard. “Every major mythic race is separated into guilds and aligned with a human guild. Werewolves are aligned with the Italian mafia.”
“Of course they are.” Rick muttered. He yanked open his door and climbed in the driver’s seat. I wonder how expensive French restaurants really are, because I’m absolutely losing this bet.
“If one of the other families ordered one of their dogs to attack Joey Vizzini’s girlfriend, this may already be out of our hands.” Dante stopped at one of the squad cars and lifted a leather carry on garment bag from the trunk. “One of your... less common duties will be caretaker of my spare suit. May I put it in your trunk?”
“Sure. No problem. I always carry my partner’s luggage.” Rick grunted as he clicked the unlock button on his key fob. He’d only been on the job for a couple hours and it was already getting harder to pretend this was a normal assignment. He was going to need another coffee before lunch at this rate. He popped the rear hatch open and gestured for Dante to wedge his garment bag between several bags of groceries. “Eating out is too expensive.”
Dante nodded sympathetically and slid his bag inside. “When I die, you will need to clear the area, eliminate the threat, and have my clothes ready. I cannot stress this enough.”
“I don’t intend for that to be necessary.” Rick sighed and rounded to his door. “But the director did mention it.”
“The director always mentions it.” Dante sighed as he slammed the hatch shut and went to the passenger side. “And yet, the first time they always forget...” Dante trailed off as he looked at the trash cluttering the floor of the passenger’s side.
“Sorry about that.” Rick brushed a crumpled bag of taco takeout off the seat onto the floor. “It’s been a while since I had a passenger.”
“I think I will walk.” Dante looked at the trash like it was going to jump up and bite him. “I can give you the address and meet you there.”
“Don’t be a drama queen. It’s just a bit of garbage. You’re an immortal mythical creature and your weakness is garbage?” Rick glared at him. “Besides, is this urgent or not? What happens if this Joey Vizzini decides to send one of his ‘werewolves’ to avenge his girl before we get there?”
Dante looked up at him with a murderous glare, but gingerly kicked the trash aside and sat in the seat.
“To answer your question, that would depend entirely on whether they know whose werewolf is to blame.” Dante frowned. “If they do – or think they do – this will not be the first murder.”
“Delightful. Can you get us there?” Rick gave up trying to fight the whole “mythic” thing. Whether Dante was talking about werewolves or trained attack dogs didn’t change their job here. Either way, the person behind the attack needed to be found and stopped.
“Giancarlo Vizzini and I have a history.” Dante gestured gracefully with a gloved hand. “I’ve been there many times.”
“Delightful,” Rick repeated and threw the car in gear. In spite of his skepticism, he found himself wondering how long he could keep his new partner alive, and what exactly would happen when he failed.
# # # # #
DANTE DIRECTED RICK to an asymmetrical mansion surrounded by a large brick wall with an iron gate. Rick flashed his badge at the guard in the gate house, who only hesitated long enough to see Dante in the car beside him.
“Good afternoon, Essex.” Dante leaned around his new partner and greeted the young werewolf. “We need to speak to Joey on business. Can you announce us?”
“I’m pretty sure I heard Mr. Vizzini tell you he’d have your throat ripped out if you ever set foot on his land again, Mr. Brand.” The young guard looked uncomfortable, as if he were concerned he’d be the one ordered to tear out Dante’s throat himself.
As it should be. Dante smiled easily. If he must die repeatedly, at least he was blessed to do so in a way that made his enemies think twice before killing him.
“I’m afraid we bring some difficult news for Joey Vizzini.” Dante pulled the fingers of his glove off his left hand. “I suppose I can open the gate the same way I did last time.”
“Nn-No, Mr. Brand, that’s fine.” The guard scrambled back to the gate house and pushed the intercom, spoke a few words, then buzzed them in.
“Out of curiosity,” Rick pulled forward as the gates opened, and flicked a glance at Dante’s hand as he pulled the glove back on. “How did your little flash paper trick get you through before?”
“I melted through the hinges.” Dante schooled his face to hide the mixture of amusement and consternation he felt. Some of his partners were much more resistant to the truth about what he was. Those usually struggled the hardest the first time they watched him die. If Agent McCoy persisted in denying the obvious, he was headed for a very difficult awakening. “I assure you that my powers are not a trick, and this job will be far easier for you when you accept that.”
“Advanced technology, then, or some exceptional skill with a lighter. I’m not saying you don’t have a useful skill, because that guard was clearly afraid of you.” Agent McCoy’s knuckles grew white as he gripped the steering wheel. “I’m just not buying that it’s magic or alchemy or whatever.”
Dante shrugged. Agent McCoy would believe soon enough. Gracious God, soften the blow.
They pulled up in front of the house and got out of the car. The door opened before they even made their way up the stone steps to the porch. An older man whose Ralph Lauren polo and carefully manicured appearance covered a body wasted by self indulgence waited for them with a sour expression. A belligerent young man wearing distasteful leather and mesh clubwear stood behind the older man.
“Brand. I told you to never show your face here again.” Giancarlo Vizzini glared at Dante and kept one hand on the door frame to block Joey in with his arm. He sized up Agent McCoy and dismissed him with a sniff. He tilted his head toward his son without taking his eyes of Dante. “Joey, get Farkas and Chann. Tell them I have a peacock for them to snack on.”
“I’d advise against that, Mr. Vizzini.” Agent McCoy deftly pulled his badge with one hand and patted the very visible butt of his holstered handgun with the other. “We’re here on official business, and if you sic your dogs on us we will shoot them.”
“Have fun with that, officer.” Vizzini barked a harsh laugh and turned back to Dante. “New partner, eh? What’d you do to the last one?”
“Agent McCoy is quite capable, I assure you.” At least he will be when he catches up. Dante pulled off his right glove with a frown and gestured to the mafioso. “And you are fully aware of my capabilities. We won’t take much of your time.”
“We’re actually here to speak with Joey.” Rick nodded to the younger man. “Are you still dating Amara Zanotti?”
“Maybe. What’s she saying about me?” Joey’s belligerent tone matched his posture as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame.
“I’m afraid that Ms. Zanotti was attacked and killed by a dog late last night.” Rick softened his tone. “We were wondering if you had any idea who might have wanted her dead?”
The Vizzinis changed their posture as soon as Agent McCoy said the word “dog.” Their eyes darted to Dante, who simply nodded slowly to acknowledge the subtext Agent McCoy was missing. Both Vizzinis knew that Dante only handled mythic crimes, so would logically know what kind of dog they were discussing in this context.
“Thanks for the news, officers.” Giancarlo tried to back his visibly shaken son back into the house and close the door. “We’ll handle this in house.”
“I’m afraid that’s not how things work, Mr. Vizzini.” Agent McCoy reacted before Dante did and wedged his foot in the door. “I’d hate to have to bring your son downtown as a person of interest in the case.”
“Or be back here arresting one of you for the next murder.” Dante gestured his gloveless hand. “I believe PNI has proven its competence more than once. Let us handle this.”
Giancarlo Vizzini grunted, but didn’t open the door any further. “Giuseppe Ciccarelli was jealous that Amara picked my Joey instead of him. Wharton is the biggest and meanest of all of them, and is especially attached to Giuseppe. He probably liked taking out that girl.”
Joey made a garbled squeak and vanished into the house.
“You got a week, Brand.” Vizzini growled. “If you haven’t made an arrest by then, me and my dogs are going to have a conference with Ciccarelli and demand Wharton be put down – or else we’ll do it for him.” He kicked Agent McCoy’s foot out of the way, slammed the door, and clicked the lock in place.
“That seems pretty clear cut to me.” Agent McCoy shrugged as they turned back down the stairs toward his car. “Jealous love triangle gone wrong. Nothing weird about that. I like my steak well done, by the way.”
Dante hummed softly as he replaced his glove. He’d not bother disillusioning the skeptical agent about Wharton’s real identity at the moment. “Perhaps. Though a week still doesn’t give us much time. We should probably try to meet with Ciccarelli and Wharton yet today.”