Page 4 of Lime Gelatin and Other Monsters
“Only if I can call you Tony. Though I’d rather Vikash.”
Kyle mulled that over as he turned down 34th, heading into university territory. Hard to get a good vibe from someone so reserved, but he finally decided that Soren—Vikash—was trying his best to be friendly. Maybe he was shy, or maybe he was seriously weird. Whatever. Kyle had been partnered with some real bastards over the years. Weird, he could deal with.
By the time Kyle had parked the white squad car, Vikash had finished his coffee, and like a good Mr. Perfect, took the empty cup and napkin with him and threw them away in the proper receptacles.
“Have you ever even had a parking ticket?”
Vikash gave him an odd look. “No. Why?”
“Never mind.” Kyle led the way inside to where Detective Hardin was waiting for them. He nodded to the detective, who he’d worked with on the previous murder. “This look like the same?”
“’Fraid so. Wanted you to take a look, though, since you were on scene with the other one.”
“Where was this one?”
“Just past the Waterworks. Some of the kids out at rowing practice found her.”
There was always that moment ofoh, shit, I can’t do thisfor Kyle when he walked into a morgue with a body on the table. He’d seen a number of corpses as a cop, but he could never quite disassociate as some officers did. That was a person on the slab, someone’s mom or sister, someone with dreams, who might have hated pistachio ice cream and might have stood near him at a fireworks display—and he had to stomp all those thoughts down hard.
Professional mask carefully in place, Kyle struggled not to flinch when the med tech pulled back the sheet. This young woman, like the previous victim, had deep, V-shaped gashes on her body, the one on her throat most likely the one that killed her.
“Doc’s placing the time of death at between midnight and two.” Hardin’s raspy, smoke-ruined voice raked through the terrible stillness. “Blood loss from the neck wound listed as cause of death, though there’s blunt force trauma to the head, too.”
“Do we have an ID yet?”
“Nothing. Killer may have taken the purse if there was one.”
“Any speculation on the weapon?” Kyle asked as he bent to examine the strangely shaped gashes.
“Almost looks like the shape of a bulb-planting trowel,” Vikash murmured. He had produced a neat little notebook and pen, and was taking notes in quick, precise strokes.
Kyle stared at him. “Why is that a thing you know?”
Vikash muttered something about his grandmother before he added, “Those shouldn’t be sharp enough for this, though.”
“ME doesn’t have any thoughts on the weapon.” Hardin regarded Kyle’s new partner with a sideways glance. “Gardening tools or otherwise. You have any doubts about this being related to the other one, Monroe?”
Kyle shook his head. “No. Same injuries. Time of death. Not the same area but still along the river. All right if we go take a look at the scene?”
“Joint investigation on this one, so go on down there. And don’t hold out on me if you find something. I don’t care if it’s some weird, psychic thing you people don’t think normal folks would understand.”
Thatyou peopledig. Kyle’s jaw tightened as his stomach did a slow roll. Four months ago, he hadn’t been anything special. Just another cop doing his job. Now, he was one ofthem, one of the freaks the department employed to handle the bizarre, unexplainable crimes, a necessary, distasteful evil to many normal cops.
Vikash glanced up from his notebook, pen still poised over the page. “Was that a racist comment, Detective?”
Hardin sputtered. “What? Fuck, no. But your precinct’s full of weirdos. You do know that, right?”
“I’ve no idea what you mean.” Vikash’s blank expression gave Hardin nothing to work with and Kyle wrestled down a laugh, nearly asphyxiating himself.
“All right, I think that’s all we need here. I’ll email updates,” Kyle managed when he rediscovered breathing.
They left Hardin sputtering and Vikash remained nearly stoic when they got back in the car. The only change? That damn smile was back.
“You just like messing with people, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Vikash tucked his notebook away. Not even a chuckle. “To the crime scene?”
“Well, we’re sure as hell not going to the Bat Cave.” That got Kyle a strangled sound. Maybethatwas a laugh, or Vikash was stifling a cough. “I’m calling in to see if Loveless and Zacchini can meet us there.”
