WereWoman (12 page)

“I see.” I had been experiencing the Demoness's smoky hands and body in the LoveBoat; it seemed that was just the beginning. “So Damne was sleeping, when—?”

“When someone evidently entered his apartment, corked his bottle so as to trap him inside, and put it in his freezer. We can tolerate practically any amount of heat, but cold is another matter; freezing quickly demolishes us. He would have been dead within the hour.”

“Is there any chance the bottle fell into the freezer by accident?”

“No. The bottle normally sits on its own shelf, and the freezer is normally closed. In any event the bottle was corked from outside; he would not and could not have done it from inside. It was a magic cork that fused it to the glass; only a spelled corkscrew wielded from outside could have freed it. It was definitely murder, done by a person knowledgeable about the liabilities of Demons.”

“Could it have been someone who was embarrassed about being caught in the free park display? Mad enough to kill in revenge?”

“We take pains to ensure that the marks never know of their roles in the park. They think they are getting free secret sex with extremely attractive guides, and very few complain. Some might even want video recordings, if they knew. In any event, Damne was not involved with that. He was a garden-variety statistician.”

How could a person complain, without admitting how far he had gone? He was far more likely to keep the secret, and wait for the next free day. This was quite a system. I was trying to keep my eyes off the multiple screens, some of which were highly distracting in the guiltiest sort of way. This was a festival of porn.

“What about girlfriends? Did he take anyone else's girl?”

“He was not the type. He was a very sensible Demon, not given to excesses. He had just one girlfriend at a time, and never cheated on that one despite that being common practice among our kind.”

“All the same, I should interview his current girlfriend. I should also check out his residence for clues.”

“You can do both together. Demesne is a live-in girlfriend; she is at his apartment now.”

So she certainly had opportunity. “Thank you. Give us the address.”

Damne's apartment was a modest cellar a floor below a large apartment building, probably the cheapest available. We knocked on the door.

A young pretty girl in a blouse and shorts opened the door. “You must be the Supe investigators. I'm Demesne.” She pronounced it di-meen, almost like demon, only with the second syllable accented.

“Phil Were, PI.” I agreed. “And Nonce Witch.”

“Yes. The Chief said you were investigating other murders.”

“We suspect there is a serial killer operating. We have found no common threat, except that all victims are Supes. Vamp, Warlock, Were, and now Demon. It could be coincidence.”

“Or somebody who just doesn't like Supernaturals,” Nonce said.

“How could someone even know who they are?” Demesne asked.

“Another Supe could,” I said. “We can smell each other.”

“Yes, of course. How can I assist you? I'm rather broken up right now; it happened just today. But if there is anything I can do to help identify his killer, I want to do it.”

“First we must eliminate you as a suspect. I understand he was sleeping in his bottle when it was corked and frozen. You could have done it. I'm not saying you did, just that you need to be cleared.”

“Of course.”

“You need to do some magic in my presence, like changing form.”

“Readily accomplished.” Demesne darkened, literally, turning smoky, including her clothing. The smoke formed into a roiling ball floating at head height. Then it elongated, became a swirling column, and coalesced back into the woman, this time wearing a dress. It occurred to me that Demonesses, like Witches or Vamps, could be a lot of fun on dates; no awkwardness about clothing.

She was completely innocent of the murder. In fact she was a nice girl throughout. Her grief was genuine; she mainly wanted us to finish so she could weep in peace.

“You're clear,” I said. “Where were you when it happened?”

“I was out shopping. I had been at it some time; there were crowds and lines, and I had to check several stores before I found what I wanted.” She smiled briefly. “I like to think I'm a savvy shopper; I shop the sales, but they have to be verified carefully, or you don't get what you think. I had been out a couple hours before I felt the cold.”

“You felt cold?”

“There's a rapport when you're emotionally close, as we were. I think it's a kind of extended telepathy with just the two people on the line. I knew it wasn't me; I was jammed in a hot heaving throng. It had to be him. He was freezing, literally.” She wiped away a tear. “I headed home immediately, but the mass transit connections weren't neat and it was over an hour before I got home. By then it was too late.”

“Too late,” I echoed.

“The feeling faded when he died. I didn't know where he was. Distracted, I unloaded my groceries. I put the frozen pizza in the freezer. That was when I saw his bottle. I screamed.”

“You took it out of the freezer?”

“Of course I did, and I ripped out the cork. But there was nothing but stale air inside; he was gone.”

I looked in the freezer. It was ordinary, with assorted frozen foods. Several were jumbled in the bottom, where they had evidently fallen when she scrambled to take out the bottle. One was marked with the number 90; I wasn't sure what that was.

“Where was his bottle ordinarily?”

“It's there now, on the mantle. When I opened it his defunct essence dissipated. There was nothing to do but return it to its place.” She indicated a small blue glass bottle.

“Do you also sleep in a bottle?”

“Oh, yes! Mine is right next to it.” She pointed to a matching pink glass bottle. “Sometimes we even slept together in the same bottle.” She blushed at the naughty confession. “Only I think now I'll be afraid to use it, at least until the murderer is caught. I'll have to sleep in solid form.” She grimaced. “Usually I do that only when in the arms of a man. At other times it's too complicated.”

“How could someone come in here unobserved?”

“Oh, that would be no problem. We never locked the door. Anybody from the street could have come in.” She shuddered. “I'll lock it now, of course.”

I walked around the small apartment, trying to pick up on clues, but there really weren't any. Indeed, anybody could have done it. Which led to motive. “Did Damne have any enemies?”

“No, none. He was a nice guy. Even the mundanes liked him, not that they knew his nature. He contributed to building charities, we danced in the parties, just being regular people. It was fun.”

I got an idea. “Did he have other girlfriends before you?”

“Oh, yes. But mostly they found him dull.” Demesne smiled fleetingly. “I happen to like dull. But other Demonesses soon got bored and left him.”

“He dated only Demonesses?”

“Well, he wasn't turned on by mundane women, and of course he could never have slept in the bottle with one of them present. So he stayed with his own kind.” She paused. “Except for one. A—a Were, I believe. What was her name? Cue. No, that's not it, quite. Kue. Something like that. ”

My jaw dropped emotionally. “Queue?”

“Yes! Queue Were. I understand she was nice, but there was something about her. He said every so often when she let her guard down, she was eerily cold.”

Could there be two Queue Weres? “Do you know what she looked like?”

“Yes. We met once, before they broke up. She was tall, attractive, buxom, with midnight black hair and black pupils. She seemed very self possessed. Frankly I was surprised when he broke it off; she was much more impressive than I am, and I never thought I had a chance.”

This sounded exactly like the Queue I knew. “Do you know her Were-form?”

“No. Damne mentioned once that it was an odd one and he didn't like it, so she never Wered when she was with him.”

It had to be her. So the Demon had dumped her; could that be motive to kill him? “Did he say why he broke up with her?”

“Not specifically. Just that she was dangerously unstable and he wasn't easy with it.” Demesne made a moue. “I think she was too smart for him. She was very intelligent. I have no problem that way. I guess he prefers his women average.”

“Some men do,” I said. “Smart women make them feel diminished.”

“A woman can never be too dumb,” Nonce said with part of a smile. “It's plain that Phil is smarter than I am.”

“Of course,” Demesne agreed. They both knew better, of course.

I did not argue the case. “How long ago did they part company?”

“Three months. I know, because next day Damne invited me to move in with him, and I leaped at the opportunity. I kept track of the time because I was so thrilled to be with him.”

“Did Queue resent you?” Nonce asked.

“I don't know. I never saw her again. But she had to know that I didn't break up their connection. I just was there when my chance came.”

“Would she have been angry with him about the breakup?” I asked.

“Funny thing there,” Demesne said. “All I knew of it was what he told me, and he didn't say much. But he did express surprise that she took it so well. He had thought she might throw a tantrum, throw things, and all, but all she said was ‘If that's the way you feel, I will get out of your life.' And she did. She cleared out her stuff that day and left. He never saw her again.”

I had one more thing to nail. “I need to know the exact timing of this murder. When someone entered this apartment and put the bottle in the freezer.”

“That's easy. I started home the moment I felt the cold, and made it in just over an hour. So it had to have been then, an hour before I found his bottle.”

“Which was—”

“Noon. He was murdered at noon, even if he didn't die immediately.” She made a little laugh that sounded more like a sob. “Hot part of the day, and he was freezing! Isn't that funny?”

“Hilarious,” I agreed, putting my arms about her so she could be comforted as she cried.

“We will do our best to find the murderer and bring him to justice,” Nonce said.

“Oh, please do! It won't bring him back, but at least it will be closure.”

“Closure,” Nonce agreed. “My cousin was similarly murdered. That's why I'm interested in this case. I had to take an anti-grief potion.”

“Do you have another?”

“As a matter of fact I do.” Nonce fished in her purse and produced a small vial. “It won't make you forget him or anything like that, but it will reduce your pain so you can function.”

“Thank you.” Demesne took the vial, opened it, and gulped down its contents. “Oh, yes, that's better. Thank you.”

“Supes look out for Supes.”

We returned to the car. “Nice girl,” I said.

“She is. Another decent prospect for you in the future. She would be loyal and faithful and do anything you wanted. Demons can assume any form they wish; you could have her emulate me. Ideal.”

“I never know when you're teasing me.”

“There's always some truth in teasing.”

“Queue would seem to be a prime candidate,” I said. “She answers the description perfectly.”

“I'm sorry I didn't get to meet her. I thought you had eliminated her as a suspect.”

“I had. But that was before the Demon murder.”

“Demesne said she took the breakup well, so why would she murder him?”

“A woman can perfectly mask her real feelings,” I said. “You know that.”

She nodded. “Point taken. She could have been furious, but hid it so she would not be a suspect when she later killed him. You'll have to check her again.”

“No point. She didn't do it. At least, not directly.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she has a perfect alibi.”

“She does?”

“At noon today she was with me and Syd and my former girlfriend Molly. We were doing our Changes, together: man to woman, woman to man. It was an interesting and slightly repulsive sequence.”

Nonce considered that. “So she was. I arrived not long after she left. She couldn't have been murdering anyone at noon.”

“We'll check out her contacts, of course. But I suspect we'll find them clean. She didn't hire anyone to kill the Demon. Not that another Supe would have done it anyway. So we still have no viable suspects.”

“This is getting frustrating. We don't have solutions to any of the murders, let alone the group of them.”

“That's right. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing I have gained by tackling this case is you.”

“Why don't you spend the night with me again?”

I could tell she was pleased.

Chapter 8:

Ghost

Our conjecture proved out: Queue was clean. She hadn't hired anyone to kill anyone. She was a false lead, apart from the fact that my verification of her nature had indicated she was not capable of such a crime anyway. Possibly someone else had resented her association with Vulcan and set her up to take the blame, only to plan it just wrong, the one time when she couldn't have done it. Coincidence? I distrusted it.

Syd and I kept going over the four cases, searching for common elements, for some rationale that would link them in a way that offered some indication of a common motive. We found nothing; they seemed to be random, except that they were all Supe males. Either there was a rash of coincidental killings, or someone didn't like Supes and knew how to find vulnerable ones.

Nonce, frustrated, traveled to another city to visit mundane relatives. I was on my own, as it were. Was her absence a tacit comment on my failure to produce? She denied it as she left, but I couldn't help wondering.