Dead Demon Walking (13 page)

The ugliest example of interior
decorating I had ever seen.

Mr. and Mrs. Fensham lounged on
separate loveseats. Brian lay on his stomach on the floor, chin in
his cupped hands, looking up at the TV as if it were not blank. The
hole in his back didn’t look as bad as in his morgue picture,
probably because he wore clothes, and he still had both arms.
Gregory Fensham’s head seemed just fine, for which I was immensely
grateful. I’d visualized a guy with his head under his arm. Daphne
Fensham stroked her neck as if unaware of the gaping hole. However,
gore coated all three like someone upended cans of brown paint over
them.

Because they were alive when Gregory’s
head and Brian’s arm were removed, blood had spurted like a geyser.
It discolored much of the room, splattered the walls and patched
the ceiling, floor and furniture. Someone had lived long enough for
terror to loosen their bowels. The smell made my eyes water. I
didn’t want to go farther in the room lest the carpet squished,
although it must be dry by now.

Although, with this humidity, it could
still be damp. The clean-up crew was in for a treat.

My back hit the wall as images rolled
over the inside of my eyelids.

The air shuddered. I heard a sound
like a big, thudding heartbeat or the downbeat of a giant wing.
Gregory made a break for it, running toward me, eyes panicked. He
seemed to be sucked backward, arms flying out, mouth open in a
scream which never made it out his throat. For a second, just a
second, I saw a shape behind him and hands either side his head as
the body dropped.

Brian picked up a large silver award
statuette from the bar and moved across the room, and a tall figure
blinked into existence behind him - white shirt, straight black
hair - Brian’s arm flew to the right as blood jetted. The tall man
pulled back his arm, then thrust his hand in Brian’s back. More
blood gouted.

Blood ran down the walls, it rained
from the ceiling and hung in the air as a fine pink mist. The mist
shifted and swayed as something I couldn’t see moved through it. My
brain skittered as it tried to make sense of what my inner eye saw.
Daphne screamed.

When a victim sees their killer, so do
I. I saw what Daphne saw as if through impure glass, until it
blinked out. At that moment, Daphne died.

The victim does not always see their
killer. For example, an assassin with a long-distance rifle, a perp
hiding in the shadows or coming at them from behind - their
physical eyes don’t see their murderer, so neither do I. The
Fenshams had but briefly glimpsed their killer.

When I opened my eyes, the Fenshams
watched me from the middle of the den.

“
Is she all right?” Daphne
Fensham asked in a Scarlett O’Hara accent. “She looks like she saw
a ghost.”

Garret did say the Fenshams were here
on vacation. They could be from a Southern state, or originated
there.

Brian put the back of his wrist to his
mouth and made a sniggering sound.

Gregory swaggered nearer. “What a
honey,” he drawled. He clutched his crotch with one hand and flexed
his hips. “Come to poppa, sugar.”

“
Gregory!” Daphne put
fisted hands to hips. “Do not speak like that in front of our
child!”

“
Poppa!” Brian exclaimed.
He swung on Daphne. “Momma, I am not a child!”

Gregory kept his eyes on me as he
spoke to his wife. “We are dead, darlin’. Let us at least be honest
with each other.” He turned to Brian. “Your momma has not been a
wife to me for over a decade.”

Brian put his palms over his ears. “I
do not want to hear.”

“
So I went elsewhere,”
Gregory continued. “But I hazard none was sweet as this gal. She
must be a tasty morsel under the covers, despite bein’ the size of
an Amazon.”

“
That is quite enough!”
from Daphne. She half-heartedly slapped at his face, but her hand
went through his head. She made a sound of disgust.

”
Ahem. I’d like to ask you
a few questions, if it’s okay with you.”

They stared at me; I had their
undivided attention.

Gregory stepped forward and waved a
hand before my eyes. I blinked. “I can see and hear you, Mr.
Fensham.”

“
Well glory be.” He took a
pace back. “Then perhaps you can tell us what all’s happenin’
here.”

That didn’t take
long.
You died violently, you’re here
until your murderer dies, then you pass to the other side. And no,
I don’t know what waits for you there.
I
didn’t add that some shades, like my roommates, can and do
voluntarily remain here.

Daphne went back to a stained couch
and sank several inches into it. She flapped a hand in her face as
she rose to cushion level. “I do not know why I keep doin’ that.
It’s not that I can feel anythin’.”

“
Force of habit?” Jack and
Mel told me sitting, lying and leaning is so natural they can’t
stop themselves doing it, so they pretend. It’s something all
shades do. Jack said mastering the knack of hovering in the right
place took weeks. The Fenshams already had it down pat for the most
part.

“
So,” I continued, “if we
find your killer, we’re closer to getting you on your way. Did you
know him?”

What I saw of the murderer didn’t give
me much to go on, only a hint which I wanted to deny with all my
heart. But the dead also see with something other than their eyes.
I don’t know what it is, their soul, perhaps? That part knows and
can describe their killer and they never, ever forget his or her
face. This family’s inner vision should be able to tell me more
than they physically saw.

“
Never seen him before,”
Brian said. “He busted in here, then it got . . .
confusin’.”

“
He was fast,” Gregory
added.

“
That is an understatement,
honey,” said Daphne. “Had I not seen him come on in, I would think
the wind tore us apart.”

I felt my face blanch. “Can you
describe him?”

“
He was tall and han’some,”
Daphne said. “He had - ”

Gregory burst out with, “How can you
call that animal han’some!”

“
Honey, what he did makes
no difference to how he looked, and he was somethin’
sublime.”

“
Big dude. I mean tall,
maybe six-eight. Mid-twenties. Long black hair, long as yours,
black eyes. White tee, blue jeans, black sneakers. Mexican, I
think,” Brian said.

“
Columbian,” from
Gregory.

“
American Indian,” Daphne
said.

“
Did he speak to
you?”

“
No,” said
Daphne.

“
Did he take
anything?”

She revolved to see every part of the
den. “Everythin’ in here looks as it should be. I don’t know about
the rest of the house.”

Ah.
“You can’t leave this room?”

She shook her head.

I eyed Brian. “You can’t go outside,
Brian?”

His head jerked up. “I
wish.”

“
How long were you . . .
unconscious?”

His voice went up a notch “I don’t
know!”

“
I’d like to know if this
guy dragged your body outside after he killed you. Was it still
here when you woke?”

“
Oh. I see. Yeah, it was.
What has that to do with anythin’?”

So our Suits thought they could mess
with me. “Nothing, Brian. Don’t worry about it.” I couldn’t wait to
get away now.

I spoke to all three. “Anything
else?”

“
Sure,” Gregory said. “When
your time comes, sweetcakes, you look me up. You hear?” and he
cupped his crotch again.

I lacked the energy to enlighten him.
“Sure, I’ll do that.”

I slipped sideways and through the
door before one of them could say another word. I knew I should
question them more, but I just had to get out and back to Royal. I
lumbered up the stairs feeling like I couldn’t get enough breath in
my lungs, the restriction not owing to the humidity
alone.

I walked in the living room and paused
at an oak-framed mirror on the wall. I’m pale-skinned, but today I
looked ashen. I rubbed my palms briskly over my cheeks to bring the
blood to the surface so I didn’t look quite as bad as the shades I
left in the den.

What to tell the agents? Should I give
them something to keep their interest, because if I was right about
the killer - God forbid - and the Fensham killings were one in a
series, maybe they could give us more information.

I hurried through the living room and
out the door to the deck, closing the door behind me. Gunn,
Vanderkamp and Royal waited on the grass. I trotted down to
them.

“
Anything?” Vanderkamp
asked.

“
They don’t recall much.
They gave me a vague description of an unusually tall man with
waist-length black hair.”

Shit!
I belatedly wondered if they bugged the house. What did I say
to the Fenshams?

“
That’s it?” Vanderkamp
said. “That description is worthless.”

No, I didn’t say anything the agents
could call me on. “Sometimes their memories fade pretty
fast.”

“
So we came here for
nothing,” Vanderkamp stated.

“
Miss Banks thought she
could make a few dollars with her cock-and-bull story,” Gunn said
in disgust, his lip twisted.

“
Hey! I didn’t want to come
here and communicate with gruesomely murdered dead
people.”

“
But naturally you can’t
prove you did,” from Vanderkamp, with that smile which seriously
began to get on my nerves.

I widened my eyes. “Ah, but you see,
Agent, I don’t have to. You can believe what I say or not, your
choice. Makes no difference to me.”

We walked beside the house to the
concrete steps. “Garret won’t be pleased,” Vanderkamp said. “He
went out on a limb to bring you in on this.”

I twitched one shoulder, said mildly,
“Garret can kiss my ass.”

I knew Royal thought
Tiff!
though he didn’t
say it. But to hell with diplomacy, I worked hard for the Miss
Mouthy USA title and you know what they say, practice makes
perfect.

“
I can tell you this,” I
said as I labored up the steps. “Brian died in the den with his mom
and dad, not outside.”

Silence behind me. They wondered if I
worked it out from looking at the lawn. “That Gregory was a genuine
lady’s man,” I added. “Unfortunately the lady was not his wife. He
had a string of affairs in the past ten years.”

“
Where did you hear that?”
Vanderkamp asked.

I read his speculative expression. He
knew we brought a laptop along, but a search would likely not bring
up Gregory’s infidelities.

I slowly arched one eyebrow. “Well, I
didn’t Google it.”

I tromped to the SUV, each indrawn
breath like inhaling marsh gas. I felt soggy all the way through my
clothes. I settled in the back seat and snatched up my bottle of
water. Already warm, it tasted stale.

Vanderkamp tried to get
inside my head on the drive to the airport, kept asking was
I
sure
I didn’t
get
anything else
.
All I gave him was a description, not that the Fenshams identified
their murderer. Did he approach them, did he touch them, speak to
them? He asked as if he believed I did make contact with the
Fenshams, but I thought he tried to make me relax and slip
up.

Gunn was his usual stoic self, except
when I caught his reflection in the rearview mirror, his expression
turned glummer than ever.

When we arrived at the airport I was
happy to hear Royal and I would fly back to Boston. We didn’t need
to see Garret again. Not so happy the agents would accompany us,
but just as far as Dallas/Fort Worth. After a flight silent but for
the droning engines and murmuring passengers, we landed in
Dallas/Fort Worth and bade the agents good-bye.

***

We leaned on a pillar in the lounge. I
popped the tab of the diet soda I got out a vending machine; a
dollar fifty and worth every penny.

I swigged.
Ah, bliss.

The spicy-sweet smell of Chinese food
drifted from a nearby café. Commuters stood at the floor-to-ceiling
windows looking out at the taxiing planes, the baggage carts and
porters. The seats in our lounge were filling up fast, but not with
people waiting for our flight. We had two hours to idle
away.

Royal was a restless presence next to
me. “We can talk now. What did they tell you?”

Well, no point in delaying. “The
killer was Gelpha.”

I think his entire body stiffened.
“Are you sure?”

“
Ninety-nine percent.
Humans can’t move that fast. Do you know any six-eight Gelpha with
black hair and eyes, who looks Mexican or Columbian or American
Indian?”

“
Asking me that is like a
guy stopping you in Clarion to see if you know where someone named
Eccles lives,” he said wryly.