The hagfish survived.
According to a marine biologist, the hagfish belonged to some new species, and it would need to be observed and studied for more information. According to a remote scanner, the hagfish was female and pregnant, ending any discussions of dissecting her for the sake of science.
As hagfish had not been extensively studied or bred in captivity, nobody understood how they reproduced—and nobody could tell me if the hagfish normally became pregnant or were an egg-laying species.
Our specific hagfish would have at least a hundred baby hagfish to care for, assuming the marine biologists could figure out what to do with her.
Bailey wanted the hagfish to live in my office, and she was willing to fight every single government agency on the planet to make her dream of me having an aquarium happen.
As such, a war waged in my office. Alec lounged on the couch, laughing his ass off over the heated dispute between the marine biologists and the cindercorn determined to become caretaker of every odd species to cross her path.
“The lobby has space for a large aquarium, and we can put a donation jar for the costs of care, and everything over the hagfish’s cost of care would go to public services,” I suggested, hoping my commentary might put an end to the yelling destined to give me a headache. “The hagfish needs a home. Nobody is disputing that. Make the home useful. In the lobby, she can be accessible to the public. A donation box for the hagfish can make sure it doesn’t hit our budget, and anything over can be flagged for specific funds. Add it to a fund for working with schools and education or something. If the hagfish needs a specific owner, you can put my name on the paperwork, but she needs more space than my office provides. The lobby has a large chunk of space we can dedicate to the fish. Practitioner magic can protect the aquarium from the rowdy crowd, not that our lobby typically gets rowdy.”
We had a second entrance where we took the truly dangerous folks who might put up a struggle. I hadn’t known about the entry until my third week on the job, as my chiefs had gone out of their way to keep things quiet while I learned the basics of being a detective.
My former chief had neglected a lot about my post-hiring education, which I rectified through evening studies and shadowing detectives on difficult cases.
The marine biologist, a woman named Alicia, considered me with a scowl, but she nodded. “With the right protections to keep the environment pleasant, that would be an acceptable housing arrangement for the animal.”
“Make it so,” Bailey commanded her husband, pointing at the door and snapping her fingers. “Our magic hagfish must be properly housed by the end of the day.”
“We have no evidence it’s magical, Bailey,” Samuel replied.
“Hagfish don’t mass produce slime on their own. It requires water. The hagfish is creating water so it can slime everything. This is evidence of magic,” the cindercorn announced.
The marine biologist blinked, her brows furrowed, and she regarded the scanner in her hand, which also doubled as a giant encyclopedia and knowledge databank. “She actually makes an excellent point. Known hagfish species excrete protein and mucin, that when exposed to water create the slime. It takes very little of these substances to create a rather startling amount of the slime. The fish is producing its own water, as otherwise, it won’t react. Did you use saltwater or freshwater when putting the hagfish in its temporary habitat?”
“Saltwater from the ocean here. We keep several large tanks on the first floor in case of aquatic incidents, so we just fill the bucket with the appropriate water type. This isn’t our first dance with hagfish.” Bailey giggled. “Our hagfish is a lot more dangerous, though.”
“Yes, the caustic nature of its protein and mucin is a concern. We’ll need to evaluate slime samples to identify if the hagfish has been modified to produce this variant of the slime.”
“Can you handle the housing and evaluations of the hagfish in someone else’s office, please? I still need to get some work done, and I would like to go over the financials of our vic before I head home for the night. If you actually need me, bring coffee and a good excuse.” I stared at Mrs. Chief Quinn and pointed at the door. “I’m talking to you. Out, demented unicorn. I need to work.”
Bailey giggled. “She called me demented, Sam.”
“Yes. Your training has borne the results you wanted. She is now willing to tell you when you are indulging in your typical insanity. Move it my beautiful and demented unicorn. We don’t want to find out what happens if McMarin becomes truly cranky we’re interrupting her productivity.”
The herd of people left, and I breathed a sigh of relief, getting up and closing the door behind them. “I apologize for them. Bailey cannot handle when animals are in trouble. If she can save them, she will—and she doesn’t want the hagfish to be dissected for science. It’s not a problem if the animal dies of natural causes or is already dead, but if she sees a stricken animal, she loses her fucking mind. We have very strict rules on how we’re to deal with animals while on duty. If the animal can be legally saved, we will save it, and we do not euthanize unwanted beasts. We also only work with no-kill shelters, who are compensated by the city to take in displaced animals. In our contract terms with the shelters, no-kill shelters only euthanize animals who cannot be rehabilitated from injury or illness. Extreme behavioral problems that cannot be resolved through training and appropriate handling are handled on a case-by-case basis. Usually, they’re sent to the Devil’s many hells to join some form of rehabilitation program—against animal abusers.”
Alec chuckled. “Yes, I had been warned about the animal issue in the academy, as it was clear early on I would end up in this precinct. I’d been flagged the day I enrolled. Apparently, Mrs. Chief Quinn had told the academy if I enrolled, I was hers, and she would fight them for me. They did not want to fight the cranky, pregnant cindercorn.”
“Does anyone want to actually fight the cranky, pregnant cindercorn?”
“Not particularly. So, how do financial investigations work on an actual case? I did not get any education for this at the academy.”
“You won’t; detectives are expected to learn this after receiving their badge. You just happen to have the appropriate education already. Essentially, we will go through the papers we’ve been given from the various financial institutions associated with the victim, and we look for anything suspicious. We identify the victim’s patterns, looking for changes or anything that might be linked with the murder. It’s complicated, so you should like it. I expect you’ll be teaching me a lot of tricks of the trade.”
“It’ll be a two-way street,” Alec replied, getting up from his place on the couch and heading for the pile of boxes containing the financial records. He grabbed one, hauled it back to the couch, and plopped down, setting it between his feet. With the same general enthusiasm as a child at Christmas, he took the lid off and snagged the first envelope of records.
I dug through my desk, grabbed one of my tablets and a stylus, made sure it had sufficient battery for him to work with, and brought it over. “I usually take pictures, load it into a note program, and jot digital notes all over the pages so I can refer to the records later. These tablets do not leave my office unless they’re checked out with the chiefs. We have forms for it, since they contain evidence.”
“We don’t have to take our work home with us?”
“It is strongly discouraged. You’ll appreciate that after a while. The only time we’re supposed to take work home with us is if we’re assigned a police dog or if we’re high enough up in the ranks to be on call. I’m on call if there is an important break in one of my cases, but I’m only contacted if it needs to be addressed immediately. The dogs go home with their handlers, and they’re taught when they’re on the job. I’m in the queue to receive a dog, but I don’t know when that’ll happen.”
“I was warned there would be a canine in my future, and I have been going through training to help handle a dog.”
Damn, the chiefs were out for the accountant. “No is an allowed word. If you become uncomfortable at any time, please use the word no.”
“They’re fine. I think it’s nice they care about you enough they’re going to these lengths. I appreciate your approach, and honestly, the stories about the incubi are hilarious. You have some serious street cred for your general ability to tell sex demons no. I’ve seen pictures of some of the incubi, and it’s generally agreed even men find them attractive.”
I chuckled. “You don’t have a problem with living in the same building with me?”
“I don’t, and if you want to spend time together outside of work, I’m game. I suspect we’re both more interested in making a friendship work prior to establishing any additional benefits. Honestly, at this stage, I’m also interested in yanking on the chains of nosy busybodies, as your dating life really isn’t any of their business.”
Of all the things I’d learned while working under the Chief Quinns, the concept that romance was more about the relationships rather than the sex stuck with me.
Without the relationship, the sex meant less than nothing to me. I’d lived without it my entire life, and I could live without it in the future without issue. However, with the right relationship, I expected sex would become something truly special.
I wanted to capture that special moment.
I considered Alec with interest. “The relationship is more important to me than the sex.”
“I generally feel the same way. And the only way we’ll find out if there is a relationship to be had is to give it a shot. Honestly, if we survive each other for a few weeks on the job and still want to see each other in the evenings, that’s probably a good indication there might be something to the matchmakers and their busybody ways. And if there’s no interest, it’s no skin off either of our backs. We’d be better off as just co-workers.”
“Agreed. I have a few rules,” I announced.
“No cheating should be one of the rules if it isn’t.”
I chuckled. “It is. If we both agree we are interested in trying to make a relationship work, then I feel we should stay dedicated. If you want out because you want to go have a fling with a succubus, just give me a heads up so I’m aware. The same applies to me. My second rule is to be honest. That’s about it. I mean, beyond condom and safe sex rules. No children unless we actually want them. Once you’re on the force long enough, you’ll see the consequences. People like to say that pregnancy mystically transforms a mother into a caring entity who will do anything for her child, but that simply isn’t true—and it often falls to us to try to rescue these kids from abusive family situations. And worse, there are times where we can’t do anything at all.”
Without fail, I ended up with a session or two on a shrink’s couch trying to come to terms with the reality of my job—and that there were parents in the world who would kill their children because they were in the way of their life’s ambitions.
“That was in the first week of courses, so we understood what we were getting into. We got both sides of the picture when we were being taught what to expect while on the job and how to handle an investigation involving child abuse. Or worse.”
“We’ll end up with those cases now and then. The chiefs try to rotate the detectives through those cases, because they’re among the hardest we have to handle. And we get therapy sessions afterwards. Nobody handles those cases well.”
Alec nodded, and he shuffled through the papers on his lap. “What do you think killed our victim, really?”
“If I had to make a guess, I’d say greed. If it is greed, we’ll find some evidence in the financial records. Honestly, the financials are often where we learn most of the story, especially when we have a silent victim.”
“A silent victim?”
“It’s when we have no witnesses of the crime, the victim has no close associates, and we haven’t found anybody to help offer insight on what happened and why. The cases with silent victims are often the hardest, as we have to piece together their life from the little evidence left behind, usually in the form of financial documents and physical evidence. Right now, I have no idea if we have such a victim on our hands, but we’ll find out soon enough. My job, while you’re digging through the financial records, is to figure out where he worked, who he associated with, and find out if we have anyone to question. Once we know who we need to question, we’ll hit the streets and start work on solving this case. If you’re expecting a quick process, brace yourself for disappointment. It took me a few weeks to come to terms with the idea that solving crimes is nothing like what is portrayed on television or in the movies. Sometimes, the pieces fall together, but when it can take five to ten days, at a minimum to run fingerprints, things tend to stall for a while. Our current average processing time for fingerprints on non-critical cases is two months.”
“That’s average?” Alec blurted. “But why two months?”
“The fingerprints have to be manually confirmed. It’s as much an art as it is a technical skill. There are a lot of factors. For example, how well was the lift on the fingerprint? How clear is the print? How many people have similar prints? The last case I got prints back for, there were fifty people with similar fingerprints. It takes an expert to interpret the prints, and they can get it wrong—or can’t tell who the print belongs to. Sometimes, we can get lucky with the computer systems; every criminal’s fingerprints are registered in a special database that can be compared against the prints we have on file. It’s when we have to do new fingerprint registrations that we have issues.”
“When you have a first-time criminal or a suspect who is yet to be fingerprinted?”
I nodded. “It’s a process.” Gesturing to the stacks of financial information, I said, “Given the volume of financial records, I suspect our victim is going to have a lot of associates, which means we’ll spend a lot of time questioning people on why someone might have murdered him with a bunch of fish.”
“And whatever other fish they might find when they autopsy him,” Alec muttered. “Do you think the CDC will be able to get through whatever is holding those fish in place?”
“I hope so, else this case is going to be even nastier than it already is. What are your thoughts so far?”
“I think someone with a high amount of creativity, a grudge, and ready access to magic is responsible. If they didn’t want to be caught, they wouldn’t have killed him in such a flashy fashion.”
Okay. I reevaluated my stance regarding taking the long and slow approach to dating. A smart woman didn’t allow a smart man to wander off without at least attempting to catch his attention. “Anything else?”
“The criminal is also stupid. By using endangered species, they’ve brought in a lot more investigative power. It’s possible they thought the use of endangered species would hamper the investigation, but that’s not how things work. It elevates the type of crime, meaning we’ll receive additional resources and personnel.”
“I see someone has been briefing you regarding some of the quirks of law enforcement.”
“While I’ll admit ignorance isn’t stupidity, drawing so much attention to the crime is stupid. It’s almost as bad as writing down your crimes for somebody to find.” Alec smiled and patted the financial records on his lap. “Or in this case, having someone else conveniently write the crimes down for us so we can discover them one line item at a time.”
I foresaw needing to drag Alec away from the financials of any future case. Usually, someone had to drag me to the financials, as it was my least favorite part of being a detective.
Some matches truly were made in heaven—and in hell.
I needed to have a talk with the various divines with a tendency to come to the precinct to create trouble for me, and every other single person who dared to seek out employment with the Chief Quinns. Rather than complain about it, I allowed myself a chuckle at the absurdity of my day. “Before you get lost in those papers, care to make a prediction on the case?”
“A prediction? You mean guess who did it and why?”
“Yes. I always brainstorm a list of motives, suspects, and so on, mostly to get it out of my system. If I’m having trouble with a case, I’ll ask another detective to review the case first and then refer to my brainstorming session. I’ve actually cracked one or two cases that way. How? Because you’re absolutely right—criminals can be stupid. They often are.”
“My bet is on money laundering or embezzling—or both. The high number of credit cards implies he’s spreading around a lot of purchases in an effort to hide his buying activities. A quick way to launder money is buy illegal things with legal money. Using credit cards to make the purchases, especially if spread around to a lot of lenders, is a good way to hide the activity. If he owed someone money, he could be removing his debt through buying stolen goods or massively overpaying for common goods. This transfers money to the other party without drawing suspicion. It’s a fairly common tactic. If you’ve ever seen a common enough novel selling for a few hundred bucks, I’d give it high chances of being part of a money laundering gig. Nobody with common sense will purchase the book, but someone paying off a debt or laundering money digitally will.”
I chuckled, grabbed a notepad, and jotted down his theory. “That’s better than what I have, which is basically nothing.”
“Basically nothing isn’t the same as nothing. What’s your guess?”
“The killer hated him and also hates fish, and they decided to get revenge on the fish and the victim at the same time.”
“Okay. I can understand why you would think your idea is basically nothing, although I will admit it is frightening plausible. I have a question, though. Why would anyone hate fish that much?”
“The first time you smell someone reheat fish in the microwave, you will understand.”
While many people believed in the concept of karma, I was more of the kind to deal with consequences. While some argued karma was facing consequences, I lacked the general belief the universe had anything to do with the process of someone getting their dues.
Our victim, Thomas Hardy, made me rethink my stance on karma and its role in the universe.
“Can you repeat what you just said, Alec?” I asked, hoping the accountant-turned-cadet would tell me something other than the first of the secrets he’d discovered in the mire of Thomas Hardy’s financials.
“After separating all of his credit card statements by month and reviewing matches by type of store, it appears Mr. Hardy was operating some form of aquatic operation. There is over three hundred thousand dollars of charges to fish stores in the past three months alone.”
Who would spend that much money on fish? Why? The information provided a clear link to the man’s death, however, which meant it moved up the priority list to the top. “I’ll request a warrant for the receipts,” I replied, already regretting the amount of paperwork required to get the information, especially if the stores were outside of our jurisdiction.
“No need. Whomever pulled together the financials had copies of the receipts.”
What? I stared at the man. “Impossible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“No case ever goes that smoothly. There is no way we have the receipts we want to review right in the box of first financial evidence. It’s impossible. That’s divine-level magic. I don’t even know if the Devil could pull off that trick.”
Speak of the Devil, and he might appear applied to my life, and I cursed myself for having drawn the attention of my chief’s uncle. “You rang?”
“No. I said your name, and I regret I forgot I should never do that unless I want you to show up.” I scowled. As Bailey encouraged bad behavior often, I reached for my coffee mug, determined it was empty, and held it out. “Please make your niece make us coffee.”
To my amusement, he took my mug. “As I need to talk to her and check in on the babies anyway, I will do this for you. What do you think I can’t do?”
“Didn’t peek?” I challenged.
“It’s more entertaining when the mortals tell me I can’t do something to my face. It makes witnessing their astonishment all the more enjoyable.”
When I thought about it, I couldn’t blame him. I pointed at the boxes of financial information. “Someone got their hands on the precise receipts we needed with a strong tie to the murder method in our case. I won’t have to call a bazillion fish stores after securing a warrant to get the information. That’s miracle-level work, Lucy.”
“Oh. That. Your victim is meticulous and kept his receipts. That evidence was removed, fingerprinted, and copied before you were notified. As you’re generally correct otherwise, I’ll give it to you, but just this once. How are you liking your cadet so far?”
“I am doing the things he isn’t precisely fond of, he is loving the things I hate. We are developing a functional work relationship.”
“An agreement for five dates with your cadet, and I will make sure everyone stays out of your hair about it for a month. I will convert everyone in this precinct to prime examples of how angels should behave.”
“You want to accept that bargain,” I told Alec. “He is offering us the holy grail in this pit of matchmakers.”
“Shouldn’t we ask for more details about dating first?”
“No. That way, he can’t dictate what counts as a date. We can decide, and as long as we label it as a date, we meet the terms of the agreement.”
Lucifer chuckled. “The dates may not happen during work hours.”
Well, I wouldn’t argue with him on that one. “That is fair and reasonable. Alec?”
“I’m fine with that.”
Some chance was better than no chance, and five dates would give us both an idea if we could tolerate each other outside of work. “Bargain made. You will have better chances of succeeding at your various schemes if you don’t annoy us and leave appropriate gift cards and board games where we can easily find them, with our names clearly labeling them as ours.”
Lucifer snickered. “You just want me to send over more incubi with board games for your new collection.”
“Until you sent them over, I had no idea I enjoyed board games that much, but yes. Your schemes have a higher chance of success if you include a variety of two-player games in the mix.”
“Hint received.” The Devil disappeared with my coffee mug.
“Do you deal with him daily or something?”
“Not quite, but he adores his niece and nephew, so he comes around often doing his best to make certain everything is perfect in their world. He is good at scheming, but if you give him an inch, he’ll take a mile. The instant you start actually negotiating with him, you’ve generally lost—unless he likes you and you want a little more out of him. He’s surprisingly relaxed about people asking for a little more. As he didn’t leave any stipulations on what it means to date, we decide, and if we like the arrangement, great. If not, he’ll try to figure out why his initial ploy didn’t work.”
Alec laughed. “Can we pretend like we hate each other outside of work just to screw with him?”
“I’m calling that a date,” I informed him. “Nothing improves my day quite as much as yanking on the Devil’s tail and getting away with it—and I know the perfect accomplice in our dastardly deed to drive him to the edge of his sanity.”
“Not over the edge?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what it says about me, but I love the Devil. I don’t think you could make a worse enemy or a better friend than him. And let me tell you, there are a lot worse things in life than having the Devil angling for your general happiness. It definitely beats the alternative.”
“That’s one way to put it.”