Page 6 of Autopsy of a Fairytale

Twenty minutes later, she had to bribe Cerberus with extra cookies to get him to agree to go home, and as they closed in on her cabin, a figure emerged from the trees. Bel squinted at the form until Vera’s curly grey hair came into view.

“Vera,” Bel called, and the older lady turned with an exuberant smile.

“Hi, sweetheart.” She waved. “I haven’t seen you all day. I thought you were off?”

“I was supposed to be.” Bel remembered seeing Vera at the crime scene, but the woman must have been too busy with her comforting gossip to notice which officers were present. Bel moved around the trees to get closer to her friend, but the minute Cerberus caught sight of Vera, all hell broke loose.

He lunged and growled, jaws snapping at her neighbor, and Vera shrieked in terror. Her fear did nothing to deter the pitbull, and not wanting to face his aggression, the elderly woman launched into an unsteady run. Bel yelped at his sudden viciousness, digging her heels into the dirt to keep the dog at her side.

“I’m sorry,” Bel yelled over the violence. “He is a rescue. I don’t know what got into him.”

Vera ignored her as she raced for her cabin, waving her wrinkled hand behind her as she escaped, but the moment she disappeared, Cerberus calmed. Gone was the demon-possessed animal, and Bel stared at him in disbelief. Cerberus looked tough, but he was the biggest softy she knew. He had not met Vera, but he interacted with other strangers regularly without reacting. She had never heard that low snarl escape his fangs before.

“Cerberus, what just happened?” she asked, but the dog simply wagged his tail as if nothing was wrong.

* * *

The next morning,Bel walked Cerberus down the street instead of on the forest trails that flanked her cabin, but after passing two jogging mothers pushing strollers, an elderly gentleman checking his mailbox, and a man dressed in a crisp suit getting into his car, some of the tension bled from her muscles. Cerberus barely glanced at the businessman. He let the elderly man scratch his ears, and he attempted to keep up with the mothers for two blocks before a squirrel captured his focus. Not once did he act out. His voice remained firmly in his throat until he saw the squirrel, and even then, the loud barks were playful as he stood under the tree. By the time Bel pushed him through her front door, attempting to feed him while changing out of her workout gear, she decided the incident with Vera was a fluke. The dog hadn’t realized she was there, and she startled him. That was the only explanation for his bizarre behavior.

“Love you, little beast,” she called as she locked the cabin behind her, his thumping tail thwacking the floor in response from where he sprawled across the cool wood, drooling as he panted. She had purposely left early, craving a latte from The Espresso Shot before the autopsy this morning. Once she walked inside that morgue, she knew the smell would turn her off to anything digestible for hours, and she desperately craved caffeine. Cerberus’ reaction to Vera had set her nerves on edge, and every time she closed her eyes to sleep, all she saw were teeth and wax and clawed feet. A cup of home-brewed coffee would never do the trick, and she wondered how many espresso shots she could add to her latte before Emily banned her from the shop.

“Morning, Detective.” Emily Kaffe smiled as Bel stepped up to the counter. The air swarmed with the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans and toasted pastries, and Bel reveled in the sugary warmth. Within the hour, she would have to trade this enticing scent for that of decay and evil.

“Large vanilla latte with an extra shot,” Bel said.

“Will that be all? I made chocolate croissants today and have two left.” Emily waggled her eyebrows enticingly. The blonde woman in her forties was magic with coffee and a sorceress with baking. Bel didn’t believe in the supernatural, but this shop sometimes had her rethinking her stance. The pure decadents Emily could create with flour and sugar and foamed milk could convince even the toughest skeptics.

“Fine,” Bel sighed helplessly with fake exasperation. “I’ll take one.” Emily smiled wide, well aware of how skillfully she manipulated her patrons into indulging, and she placed the pastry into a bag.

“Actually,” Bel interrupted, staring at the forlorn croissant abandoned in the case. “Give me both, and then can I also grab an Americano?” If she was going to enjoy chocolate for breakfast, she might as well not eat alone.

“An Americano?” Emily raised her eyebrows conspiratorially as she proceeded to make the drinks. Bel stared at her in confusion until the blonde returned to the register.

“Your latte and pastries.” She placed them on the counter. “And your Americano,” she added with a wink, and her meaning hit Bel like the stench of the dreaded morgue. This was the one aspect of small-town living she wasn’t sure her New York blood would ever acclimate to. Everyone knew everyone’s business, and as an introvert who preferred a book and her dog, Bel hated how one simple look, one innocent wipe of the napkin, possessed the power to turn her life into a story she didn’t realize she was living.

“Thanks, Emily. Have a good day.” She exchanged cash for the breakfast and fled for her car. Denying the insinuation would only somehow prove her guilt, so she ignored the comment. Emily was harmless, a woman who mothered everyone, and maybe if Bel had more years with her mom, she would have relished the opportunity to talk about men. But her mother was gone, and her sisters were older, living their own lives by the time she reached her teens, and so Bel felt nothing but awkwardness at Emily’s romantic insinuations.

“Oh my god, I could hug you,” Garrett said when she arrived at the station six minutes later, coffee and pastries in tow, and Bel stiffened at his phrase. Her partner seemed to register his words and quickly added, “I am exhausted. This is a lifesaver.” He took a sip of the Americano as he checked his watch, and seeing they had a few minutes before they had to leave for the morgue, he peeled back the parchment paper. “Emily made chocolate croissants?”

“I got the last two.” She sat across from him, letting the flaky sweetness melt on her tongue.

“Thanks for this.” He smiled at her, the expression genuine despite the fatigue in his eyes. “I couldn’t sleep…” he trailed off as if embarrassed.

“Me neither,” Bel offered, and his gaze dipped to the scar on her neck for a fraction of a second.

“I keep seeing him strung up.” Garrett pretended he hadn’t just stared at her scars, and Bel pretended for his sake that she hadn’t noticed. “I didn’t know him well, but I grew up in this town, with these people. I cannot fathom how someone could desecrate his body like that.” He paused, drinking half of his Americano down. “And then every time I tried to sleep, I kept smelling bleach. It was stuck in my nostrils, and it got me thinking. Bleach can clean DNA, but nothing is foolproof. How do you rip out someone’s heart, drain him of blood, and then drill him into furniture without making a mess? I don’t see how it is possible to clean the scene so effectively that not even trace evidence exists.”

“That’s been nagging me, too.” Bel downed the last of her latte and threw their packaging in the trash. “It’s almost as if a biohazard crew scrubbed the place.”

“My car?” Garrett interrupted as he led the way out of the station.

“Sure.” Bel followed him to his parking spot. “There is the possibility they killed him elsewhere, but I don’t like that theory. Lumen was an introvert who liked routine. His shop was closed every weekend between Saturday nights and Monday mornings. I’m willing to consider any explanation, but my gut is asking me why drag a man away from the perfect killing grounds only to return him?”

“I agree.” Garrett eased into traffic. “The timeframe. The disabled security cameras. The open space, and the thorough cleaning. His shop makes the most sense, but something doesn’t sit right.”

“None of this sits right.”

Garrett grunted his agreement. “Hopefully Lina will find something helpful.”

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