Chapter 11
THE weather had taken a turn to the chilly side, so I wore a leather jacket when Gina and I took Daisy for a walk in Gustafson Park. It was dusk and technically the park, like all Indianapolis parks, closed at dusk, but I found that was the best time for Daisy. People tended to get upset when they saw a weird-looking bulldog chase and bite the head off a squirrel. Daisy was off her leash, another park no-no, so that she could build up the steam to catch her prey. Zombies, especially zombie dogs, don’t move as slowly as they do in the movies. Otherwise, how would they ever get anything to eat? Wait around for that one idiot who twists his ankle running away from said zombie?
Gina, wearing a black cloak that went down almost to her ankles, watched as Daisy disappeared around a tree. We could hear the snap of bones as she caught up with dinner. “It’s much easier to handle her feeding habits,” she said, “when you don’t actually have to see them.”
“So true.” I nodded at her cloak. “Don’t people find it odd when you dress like a witch? I mean, shouldn’t you go for the opposite look?”
She shook her head. “It’s the ‘Purloined Letter’ approach. Dress like you are a witch and no one will suspect. Besides, people just think I’m Goth. Plus, very few people believe in witches anymore.”
Daisy trotted back from the tree, licking squirrel blood from her muzzle. She smiled happily and ran a few circles around Gina and I before darting off again, presumably searching for dessert.
“You don’t talk about your past much,” I said. “I’ve known you for years, and while you know nearly everything about me, I don’t know that much about you. There’s not something really horrible that you’ve done, like the plague or anything like that, is there?”
She laughed. “What’s up with you? Suddenly you want me to be on This Is Your Life? You’ve never voiced a concern about my past before.”
“The murder of the stripper, Bethany, is bothering me. I’d swear the killer was paranormal in some way, but he wasn’t a ghost. I wondered if he might be one of your kind.”
“No way,” Gina replied with a shake of her head. “Witches, at least true witches, are all but extinct. I’d know if there was another in Indianapolis. Closest one lives up in Mishawaka. I can say with certainty that your killer wasn’t a witch.”
“What was he, then?”
She shrugged. “No idea. You’re the detective. You figure it out.”
“He wasn’t a zombie. No flesh was eaten.”
“Maybe he didn’t have time.”
“Maybe,” I said, not really believing it. “He was using a knife, though. A zombie wouldn’t use a knife.”
“True. They are very hands-on or, more accurately, teeth-on creatures.”
Daisy was lost in the shadows among a small group of trees. I could just barely make out her form as she latched onto another squirrel. Once again we heard the crunch of bones. “Case in point,” I said.
A light mist formed in the fading light and gathered near my left side, condensing and becoming human in form. In seconds Robbie coalesced and was walking beside us. “Find any good corpses lately?” he asked with a cheeky grin. He was wearing jeans and his high school letter jacket, presumably to hold off the chill night air that he couldn’t feel. Old habits die hard, I guess.
“Just the usual number,” I replied. Daisy, who could see Robbie even when I couldn’t, came running up to him, her tongue out and lolling to one side. A fleck of bloody squirrel flesh hung off one of her teeth.
I saw Gina stiffen slightly when Robbie appeared. Ghosts were something that witches had no power over, so even though she and Robbie had never fallen out or argued, she never felt entirely comfortable in his presence. “Can’t you,” she asked him petulantly, “wear a cow bell or something so we can know when you’re ready to appear? It’s very disconcerting, you just popping up unannounced.”
“I suppose I could always moan and rattle some chains about,” Robbie said, “but only if you promise to travel by broom.”
When I said they’d never argued, I didn’t mean to imply that they didn’t continually bicker.
I attached Daisy’s leash to her collar and looked at Robbie. I never appreciated it when he wore his letter jacket, so I’m sure my face was a little sour, but these things can’t be helped. Didn’t he realize that it just accentuated his youthful appearance while I continued to age? “Any guesses as to what killed Bethany?”
Robbie gave it some thought. “It wasn’t a ghost. No ghost I know of could kill someone with a knife like that. Hell, picking up a book and carrying it across a room wears me out. You’re sure it was a knife? Could we be dealing with a werewolf?”
I realized that I hadn’t actually seen the weapon, but I doubted Robbie was on to something. “The wounds didn’t look like they’d been made by claws. Besides, I saw the guy. While I didn’t exactly get a good look, I also didn’t get the wolf vibe. He moved like a human.”
“That’s probably what he was,” Gina said. “A human. Just a regular guy who likes to carve up young women. Nasty enough. Why does he have to be something more than that?”
“Because I got a strong psychic impression from him,” I said. “Is there anything else otherworldly that he could be? Like a ghoul. What is a ghoul, anyway?”
Robbie and Gina exchanged a glance. “You don’t want to know,” Robbie said. “Let’s just say she was moving when he attacked her, so it wasn’t a ghoul.”
I picked Daisy up and grabbed a rag from my back pocket. Best to be prepared and have something to wipe away blood and gore if you don’t want it all over her muzzle for the rest of the night. Wiping away, I muttered, “Probably doesn’t have anything to do with the case I’m working on anyway. Tomorrow I’m going to concentrate on finding Brenda Sanderson. I’ll worry about the other if it becomes obvious the two are connected.”
“They will be,” Robbie foresaw. “With you, nothing is ever easy.”
“Tell me about it.”