Chapter 3
Chapter
Three
Z achariah Johnson played golf more than any living soul on the island.
To be fair, we didn’t get many mysterious deaths on the island and golf was his obsession.
I couldn’t understand being obsessed with the game of golf.
A pastime, sure. A leisurely activity, you betcha.
But an obsession? His Viking ancestors would be deeply ashamed.
The necromancer’s white-blond hair was immaculately combed, unlike his raggedy mustache and goatee. His eyebrows were so pale against the pinkish white of his face, they were nearly invisible except at close range.
He stood with his feet planted, his focus on the small white ball on the ground. Now seemed like the ideal moment to get his attention.
Sensing my approach, a hulking figure stepped forward to block my path.
The warmth of his russet-brown skin was in direct contrast to the coolness of his gaze.
Theo Jensen still worked as hired muscle at one hundred and fifty years old.
You wouldn’t realize how old he was unless he opened his mouth wide enough to see his dentures .
“I need to speak to Zach,” I told the muscle.
“As you can see, he’s busy.”
“No, busy is when he’s in the middle of an autopsy with a blade in one hand and a corpse in the other. This is leisure time.”
“Not when you’re Zachariah. Golf is his passion.”
“And he must be yours if you’re willing to stand here and debate this with me.” I pointed to my chest. “If I had a badge, it would say assistant director of security.”
“All I see is a pain in the ass in need of an attitude adjustment, which I’m willing to provide for free.”
“Do you two mind?” Zach yelled. “I’m trying to concentrate. Everybody knows the seventh hole is one of the more challenging ones.”
Zachariah had a very loose definition of “everybody.”
“I’ll ask nicely one last time,” I told Theo. “Stand aside so that I can speak to Zach in private.”
Theo’s biceps bulged as he fastened his arms together in steely objection.
“Have it your way. Remind me, Theo. What’s your biggest fear again?” I snapped my fingers. “That’s right. Snakes, isn’t it? Which part scares you the most—the slithering, the fangs, or the venom? Because I can introduce you to all three.”
Theo made the wise decision to back away. There was only one doctor on the island, and he was notoriously busy.
I brushed past Zach’s personal attack goon to confront Zach. “I need your help.”
He kept his focus on the ball. “So I gathered.”
“It’s about the corpse in your office.”
He glanced up at me. “There’s a corpse in my office?”
“There is now.”
“How did it get there?”
“I hand-delivered her. Belinda.”
“The drunk mermaid?”
“Now the dead one. I need you to perform an autopsy, and I’d like to watch.”
That got his attention. A slow grin emerged. “Why, Maya. I didn’t realize you had any kinks. You must be hiding them for Judd’s sake.”
“I need to know if the death was accidental.”
“As opposed to?”
I lowered my voice. “Murder, Zach. What else?”
He blinked twice. “There hasn’t been a murder on this island since its inception.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Where’s Judd? Will he want to be present as well?”
“I’m sure he will, when I find him.”
Zachariah hiked an eyebrow. “Judd’s missing?”
“He didn’t show up for work this morning, and he hasn’t returned my calls.”
“Have you been by his place?”
“That’s next on my list, after Belinda.”
“Why does it need to be accidental death or murder? Isn’t it possible Belinda died of natural causes?”
“I found a mermaid dead in a fountain of water. No, Zachariah. I don’t believe she died of natural causes.”
He removed his cap to wipe his perspiring brow. “Mermaids can live in water, but water doesn’t make them invincible. Could’ve been cardiac arrest. Could’ve been pneumonia. The possibilities are great and varied.”
“Fine. Then do your thing and tell me which of those great and varied reasons caused her death.”
“I’ll see what I can do. What’s in it for me?”
“You’re the necromancer, Zachariah.”
Zachariah shook his head. “Not good enough, Maya. These cases aren’t urgent, and I have no reason to believe Belinda’s is any different.”
“I just gave you reasons.”
“You gave me theories, not reasons.”
I could feel my exasperation mounting. “And that’s why I came to you—for a reason!”
Straightening, he eyed me closely. “Why do I get the sense you’re asking for more than a simple autopsy?”
I matched the intensity of his stare with my own. “Because I’m asking for more than a simple autopsy if it isn’t immediately obvious what killed her.”
He heaved a deep, bone-weary sigh, as though I’d suggested he ask a stranger for directions. “Couldn’t you ask one of the witches for help with this?”
“Since when does Meemaw raise the dead?”
“I don’t know. I assume that woman is capable of anything.”
“Fair,” I admitted.
He examined his fingernails. “I’d like reservations at Miramar for tomorrow evening. It’s my birthday, but I wasn’t able to secure a table. You know how far ahead they fill up.”
“Why didn’t you make reservations in advance?”
“Because I’ve been busy.”
“I don’t think golf counts as busy.”
“You would if you played as well as I do.”
“And if I make the reservation, you’ll do as I ask?”
He leaned on his golf club like a cane. “Yes.”
Although I had connections at Miramar, I disliked taking advantage of them. “How many people in your party?”
“Eight.”
I strangled a laugh. “You expect me to snag a last- minute table at the most popular restaurant on the island for a party of eight?”
“If you expect me to help you today, then yes.”
“What happened to people doing things out of the goodness of their hearts?”
“That’s a myth.”
“Fine,” I said through clenched teeth. “I’ll make the call.”
He watched me expectantly.
“You want me to do it right now?”
“No time like the present for my present.”
I wanted to take his golf club and bend it over my thigh. Instead, I thought of Belinda and how she deserved better than to die in Poseidon’s Potty. I pulled out my phone and called my contact.
“Happy birthday,” I told him, once the deed was done. “You’ve got your table for tomorrow at seven. Party of eight. Now can we handle Belinda?”
He angled his head toward the next hole. “Once I finish the remaining holes.”
I resisted the urge to shove that golf club up his own hole. “You said if I got you the reservations, you’d help me.”
“And I will, as soon as I finish.”
“If time is of the essence, don’t you think you should stop now?”
“Not if Zeus himself came down from Mount Olympus and asked me for the same favor. Meet me in my office in two hours, since we’ve already established you know how to break into it.”
Two hours. I could wait because, apparently, I had no choice. At least it would give me more time to wrangle Judd .
Zach snapped his fingers at the caddy. “Let’s go before she takes me out of the zone.”
Another quirk of Evermore—the weather was often more agreeable than the inhabitants.
The island basked in sunshine most days of the year.
Now, however, the sky attempted to disprove my point as dark clouds gathered overhead.
On the upside, Zachariah’s golf game would end sooner than he intended.
Maybe Belinda’s ghost had pull in the next realm.
If I were her, I’d be furious that my unexpected death wasn’t being taken seriously—it was bad enough women’s health issues were ignored and minimized in this realm, no need to drag that misogyny into the next world.
Then I saw Ivan. Well, that explained it. Ivan Umansky was a druid whose mood sometimes impacted Evermore’s weather. His first month on the island, we narrowly avoided major flooding thanks to a severe bout of homesickness. Yet men claim women are too emotional. Projection is a bitch.
“What’s Ivan upset about this time?” I asked.
“I assume he lost. He was about five holes ahead of me when I started.”
“Offer to buy him a beer in the clubhouse before the heavens open. I don’t need to deal with a rainstorm on top of everything else.”
“One beer. That’s it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to draw the line at one beer for the collective good?”
“I didn’t become wealthy by spending money now, did I?” He whistled to Theo. “Run ahead and buy Ivan a beer on my tab.”
Theo stood stone-still .
“And one for yourself too,” Zach added with an annoyed flare of his nostrils.
I could cram a lot of legwork into two hours. I started with Judd’s house, which was only a block from my own. I banged on the door with both fists and yelled his name. Judd had werewolf metabolism. Surely, he was conscious by now.
I called his phone again and listened for the sound of it ringing inside. Nothing.
“That’s it, Judd! I hope you’re dressed because I’m coming in!”
I wasn’t surprised to find the front door unlocked. The Neighborhood was relatively safe—most of the incidents we responded to were related to disputes and nuisances.
The bungalow was dark and quiet; the curtains were closed, and the lights were off. Made sense if he was fighting a monster migraine.
I crept past the kitchen and shouted his name again. Nothing in the sink. No sign that he’d made coffee this morning either.
I inched toward his bedroom, feeling slightly awkward about bursting into his home, but Judd would understand my concern. He was the most upstanding of citizens. For him not to show up to work or return phone calls—it wasn’t normal for Judd.
I eased open the bedroom door and gathered my courage to peer inside. The bed was made and there was no sign of him.
I stepped fully into the room and looked around. The bathroom door was open. “Judd? ”
No answer. Either Judd had finally felt better and left the bungalow, or he hadn’t come home last night. Which was it?
I called his phone again, just to see whether he’d left it behind. It was unlikely, though. Judd was more attached to his phone than I was to mine. He wore his security badge like a badge of honor. I didn’t even know where mine was.