Fangs, Fur, and Paranormal Murder

1. Murder on the Dance Floor

Murder on the Dance Floor

Leaning over the body lying on the cold metal, I stare as if I can make it tell me what I so desperately want it to, as my best friend monitors me across the autopsy table.

‘Here’s what I’ve found so far,’ Dr Ruby Blue tells me. ‘Keep in mind, it’s only preliminary, Eve.’

The autopsy suite is brightly lit, but cold in more ways than one.

The temperature is cool enough to make me regret wearing a skirt, while the cold steel and stark white walls send an involuntary shiver skittering down my spine.

Instruments line a tray to one side, along with a micro-laser to cut through flesh and bone without causing any damage.

The floor has a grate beneath the table to wash away blood, a hose snaking sinuously beside it.

Ruby and I are both micro-gowned and insta-gloved to prevent any outside transfer to the body, protective insta-flex spray-on foot coverings muffling the sound of my boots on the linoleum floor. My shoulder-length dark hair is tied back out of the way.

The fluorescent holo-lights don’t do either of us any favors, but Ruby Blue somehow still manages to look stunning. Tall and lithe, with dark caramel skin and chocolate eyes, the Chief Medical Examiner for New York also has her wavy dark brown hair tied up.

‘Fine,’ I step back, waving a hand over the body of our victim, not yet cut open.

I asked to be here for that part, and as I’m the lead detective on this case, Ruby readily agreed, sending me a flicker straight after her prelim.

Unless my boss takes me off for a conflict of interest, I’m in charge of this investigation.

The possibility of that happening is a later problem.

‘Do you want to wait for Tim?’ my best friend and ME asks me.

‘Fill me in first. If he’s not here by the time you start chopping him up, I’ll let him know later what we find.’ If my partner isn’t here by now, that’s on him. I can’t wait, and Ruby knows it.

‘Human male, aged between thirty and thirty-five. He has what looks like a blow to the back of the head.’ Ruby’s gloved hands tilt his head toward her so I can see the indentation on the skull.

It’s not easy with his sandy hair covering his scalp, but bending close, I can just make out a slight contusion as Ruby shines the holo-light on her wrist microchip onto the area.

She’s starting with the least obvious trauma, because the claw marks across his chest and down his side were the first things we noticed at the crime scene last night.

Now that his torn shirt has been removed and the blood washed away, they’re garish in the harsh light of the sterile autopsy suite.

Strips of skin have been torn clean off, and the bruising around the edges has turned mottled purple, brown, and yellow.

‘He’s definitely human?’ I ask, looking for any signs on the body that he isn’t.

‘He’s human. No doubt about it,’ Ruby assures me.

‘And the claw marks?’ Clarification on this point is vital for the investigation. Even if the victim is human, it will stay in my hands if the cause of death is in any way linked to the supernatural. And it has to stay with me. Any other option is unthinkable at this point.

‘Eve,’ Ruby starts to say. I hold up a hand, my eyes narrowing.

‘Listen,’ she continues, ignoring my attempt to stop what I know she’s about to say. ‘I know what you want me to find. I can only do my job. Maybe you should wait until I’m done.’ Her voice is firm, professional. Right now, she’s not my friend; she can’t be, even if she wants to.

But that’s not happening. Not even if hell freezes over. ‘Just tell me what else you’ve found so far,’ I huff out, giving her a fake encouraging smile.

Her brown eyes narrow further, and I can almost feel the eye roll she’s holding back. She knows all my tells, all my tricks, and when I’m being fake. But she also knows how much I need to be here for this.

‘Back to the knock on the head.’ My best friend gives me a half-smile to show she understands my anxiousness.

‘I think it’s post-mortem. But I’ll need to view the X-rays and peel back the skin to be sure.

The bruising beneath will tell me a lot.

It is most likely, taking into account the position you found him in, not the cause of death.

Of course, that’s not to say it didn’t contribute to it. ’

I’m far less interested in contributing factors right now than I am in the actual cause of death. Patience is not my strong suit, especially with everything that’s on the line.

‘But he wouldn’t have survived those claw marks, blood loss, and organ damage anyway,’ Ruby continues, tilting her wrist to illuminate the back of the skull again.

‘What about fingerprints?’ Screw all this, I need to know.

From her slight hesitation and the way she stares determinedly at the body, I already know it’s not the news I want to hear.

‘I’m sorry, Eve, I didn’t manage to find any more than the partial the tech bots lifted last night. That alley was full of debris, and the gouges in his flesh were fairly deep. Plus, the amount of blood lost covered a lot of his skin.’ She shrugs, knowing it’s not the answer I need to hear.

‘You don’t think the partial they found on his neck was convenient?’ The half-index print found on the dead man lying in front of us had been a bloody bat signal on his neck. Impossible to miss, even in the near-dark alley.

Ruby doesn’t bother to answer me, and I can’t blame her. I’m bordering on unprofessional, and it’s unlike me. My emotions are clouding my judgment. Yet somehow, I can’t bring myself to care. I need results.

‘Do you have a victim ID yet?’ she asks instead, pulling an overhead holo-lamp closer.

‘Tim should have it soon. He’s comparing the palm and fingerprints the tech bots took to his microchip.’

Every human has a microchip embedded in their wrist. One of the tech bots on site scanned the victim’s last night. The match had been instantaneous. Now, we’re waiting on his prints to make sure he really is who was ID’d at the scene.

‘Who do we think he is?’ Ruby asks.

She’s trying to distract me because we both know I can’t give her a definitive answer.

Micros can be forged or faked, especially when criminals are involved.

Prints can’t. In some ways, modern tech hasn’t moved that far beyond the tried and true methods of the past. Of course, not every human has their palm and fingerprints on file.

Although without them, it’s not possible to travel internationally.

It’s not easy, but those with the means can have their microchip scrambled, swap it for an illegitimate one, or take it out.

The latter causes more problems than it’s worth.

Once implanted at fourteen, it sends nanos into the bloodstream and connects to the central nervous system, including the optic nerve.

Permanent contacts are implanted, so flickers and holos can be sent and received.

Plus access to social and news feeds. Everything scrolling right in front of your eyes.

A microchip is kinda like those old watches and fitness trackers, only much more advanced. It tracks heart rate, body temp, mineral and nutrient bio-availability, and sleep patterns.

Despite pressure from the World Council, not everyone has a microchip implanted in their wrist. It’s compulsory for humans.

But Vamps and Lycos? They’re incompatible with the undead, being, well, dead.

And Werewolves tend to short-circuit theirs when they’re Changed.

Their blood and brain chemistry are altered along with their bone structure.

So the newer Weres and Vamps lose theirs when they’re Turned.

The older ones, those aged over a hundred years, never even had them.

I complain, but it does make my job easier that a lot of the population can be tracked.

While we wait for my partner, Detective Tim Easten, Ruby takes me through the rest of the external results. Toxicology will be back within a few hours. No more waiting several weeks for results.

‘There was no blood under the victim’s nails.

Or anything else. The rest was what you’d expect from a body found in a back alley behind a nightclub,’ Ruby informs me, picking up the vic’s hand and turning it over to show me.

As if I could see anything without a laser-scope.

‘We’ll know more once I get the trace results in about ten minutes. ’

‘It doesn’t look as though he put up a fight,’ I muse. Possibly under the influence of drugs, alcohol, or illegal supps? ‘Given his size, I’m surprised he didn’t fight back, at least initially. He must have been taken completely by surprise.’

Even drunk or drugged, to have no signs of a struggle was unusual.

My micro dings, words flashing in front of my eyes from my permanent contacts.

I’ve often wondered how people multitasked back when they had to hold a phone to read a message, take a call, or look up info.

I have access to the entire police database instantly, plus the insta-web- or i-web- from just a thought.

It’s from Tim, but before I have the chance to open my mouth to inform Ruby, he pushes his way through the doors.

He hasn’t bothered with protective gear; no doubt his excuse for bowing out before the vic is sliced and diced by Ruby Blue.

His usually tanned face looks pale under the bright holo-lights, blue eyes sweeping the room.

Immaculate in a blue shirt and dress pants, dark blond hair neatly in place, he looks incongruous compared to Ruby and me, out of place in the sterility of the autopsy suite.

‘Damn, that guy is jacked. Hard to tell last night. Are we thinking he was on something?’ he says without even a hello, coming to stand next to me.

Ruby sweeps her eyes over him as she places the vic’s hand back under the sheet covering the lower half of his body, a small smile playing about her mouth.

My partner returns her loaded stare. I almost tell them to get a room, but I don’t have time for their subtle foreplay right now.

It’s up to them to stop the cat-and-mouse game they have going on in their own time.

‘Could be. But if you’re alluding to who could have taken him out, save it,’ I snap.

Tim holds up his hands and takes a step back. He’s not wrong, though. A man the vic’s size, strung out on something, would still have been hard to take down. I’m concerned about there being no defensive wounds. Even taken by surprise, he should have fought back.

I owe Tim an apology, but I’m too tightly wound right now. He wisely chooses to ignore my outburst.

‘We have a positive ID,’ he says instead, making eye contact with me. His own briefly go unfocused as he sends me the file. It races across my vision as I swipe to the part I want. ‘Jason Rodriguez, thirty-three. Mid-level drug dealer. The rap sheet you can see.’

I scan quickly, confirming the ID and a few arrests for narcotics, assault, and weapons charges dropped on multiple occasions.

Two short stints in prison; nothing major.

Which either means he was smart or well-connected.

Especially if he’d gotten a walk on weapons charges.

But I don’t care about any of his priors, unless they lead us to who brutally murdered him last night. Or, more to the point, who hadn’t.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ my partner continues. ‘That it’s crime-related. Either retaliation from a rival, or a deal gone wrong.’

‘Did he sling himself?’ I refer to the term used for illegally providing or selling drugs and illegal supps- the hardcore ones you can’t get in a sports store. They make humans almost as strong and fast as a Werewolf.

Our vic sure looks as if he partook of his own merch.

With his shirt off under bright lighting- as opposed to a mostly dark alley at the back of a club- I can see he’s built like a boxer, all lean muscle in proportion.

His abs are cut, visible above the sheet, and his face looks as if it’s taken a few hits, even aside from the damage done last night.

‘He did in the past. But he’s more middle management now. He supplies, but doesn’t get his hands dirty,’ Tim confirms what my quick scan told me.

‘Worked his way up? Or family connections?’ His rap sheet looks as if he’d been at the bottom of the pond for a while, before steadily moving into more lucrative territory. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t Rodriguez Cartel by blood.

‘You mean Rodriguez? We’re not sure yet if he’s one of the family. If he is, it’ll be peripheral.’ Tim says. ‘Let’s hope not. This is bad enough without them coming after us for answers.’

‘Or getting their own,’ I acknowledge. This just gets worse and worse. The last thing we need right now is the largest Cartel in the city with a vendetta.

Tim must have seen the look on my face. He steps toward the table and Ruby Blue.

‘What else you got, Doc?’ His blue eyes light up, and I note the answering sparkle in her brown ones. Normally, I enjoy them trying to pretend they’re not interested in each other while also awkwardly flirting. But not today. There’s too much at stake for me to be distracted.

‘Not much until I open him up. As I was telling Detective Sinclair, I’m confident it was the claw marks causing massive blood loss that killed him. Along with organ damage. No matter what his blood alcohol level and tox screen show.’

‘So cutting him up is checking boxes at this point,’ Tim says, his voice hopeful.

‘Correct. You’re off the hook, Easten.’ Ruby pauses and looks at me, her flirtatious smile fading. ‘You don’t need to be here for this, Eve. I know there are other places you’d rather be.’

She’s right. I weigh my options: Wait for her to laser through flesh and bone, take out the organs and weigh them, while meticulously taking notes at the same time. Or work the case with Tim. We have a few leads to follow, and we’ll need to do it soon, before more formal charges are laid.

‘Let’s go,’ I say to my partner with a shrug at Ruby.

‘Where do you want to start?’ Tim turns to exit, holding one of the double-doors open for me.

I may be the youngest detective in the department at twenty-six, but he’s not much older than me. That he defers to my seniority says a lot about his character. It’s one reason we work so well together. And why we run the Paranormal Police Squad.

A message flashes across my contacts: Flicker me later.

I nod back at my best friend, trusting her to do her job as meticulously as she always does. The youngest medical examiner in the history of New York State, if not the country, she’s damn good at it.

As I push my way out of the doors separating autopsy from the corridor leading to elevators that access the rest of NY General Hospital, my micro dings with an incoming flicker. The message that streams across my vision has me running past Tim for the elevator, leaving him to catch up.