Crowbones

CHAPTER 45

Grimshaw

Watersday, Novembros 3

Grimshaw was reaching for the door of the TV room when he heard a piercing scream coming from the downstairs washroom. Before he could take a step in response, the TV room door opened and Ian Stern rammed into him.

“Chief! I heard . . .” Ian stopped and stared as Wilma Cornley rushed toward them trying to straighten her clothes, quickly followed by Fred Cornley, who was also straightening his clothes.

“There’s something in the powder room!” she shrieked. “It appeared behind us in the mirror! It . . . it was watching . . .” She stopped, as if suddenly realizing that everyone had a good idea of what the something was watching.

Vicki, rushing toward the commotion, spun around and ran back to the reception desk. By the time Julian and Michael joined the group to find out what had happened, Vicki had returned and held up the sign that said: If your behavior attracts attention, YOU have to explain that behavior to someone who might eat you. Good luck.

Wilma fell against Fred in a dramatic swoon just as two females drifted toward them from the direction of the washroom. One left drops of water on the floor. The other, more ethereal, Elemental asked in a tone that mimicked a scientist discussing a test subject, “Since they can’t see the sex parts, what is the point of humans looking at themselves in a mirror when they are mating?”

Air and Water looked at all the humans present and waited for an answer.

Since it was unlikely that the Cornleys would end up being eaten, Grimshaw chose a strategic retreat. He gave the Elementals a nod and said, “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check on a wounded man.”

He pushed past Ian Stern, went into the TV room, and shut the door. A psychologist and a writer interested in the terra indigene should be able to handle the Q&A portion of the evening, and Julian would look after Vicki and make sure she wasn’t heading for an anxiety meltdown. She seemed to be holding up well, despite the shock of having someone else die at The Jumble, but if guests started yelling at her, that might tip her over the edge.

Ben Malacki sat on the other side of the room from David Shuman and Jenna McKay, who had bloody hands and a pale face.

“I think the bleeding has stopped,” Jenna said. “I don’t think any of the wounds are that deep.”

“Not deep?” David Shuman said in a voice stripped of vigor. He tried to move, ignoring Jenna telling him to stay still. “That . . . creature . . . tried to eviscerate me!”

“If he’d been trying, they’d be shoveling your guts off the floor,” Grimshaw replied. He leaned over Shuman and pointed a finger at Jenna. “Let me see the wounds so I can determine who needs to come out here.” He’d already called the EMTs and Doc Wallace, and they were on their way, but it seemed better to downplay this conflict if that was possible.

Jenna eased a blood-soaked T-shirt off the wounds. Fresh blood immediately welled up—a sluggish flow but still a concern.

Just as well he’d called Doc along with the EMTs. The EMT vehicle was fitted like a mobile trauma unit, and any of the EMTs probably could stitch up those wounds just fine. But this was one of Vicki’s guests, as well as a suspect in the current troubles happening around Sproing. Better to have Doc take care of the stitching and whatever shots might be required.

“I need a hospital,” Shuman said.

“There’s no way to get you to one, so you’re getting the doc and the EMTs,” Grimshaw replied as he headed for the door. He stopped and looked at Shuman. “The doc is also the village’s medical examiner. Something to keep in mind before you piss off the Bear again.” Or someone far more dangerous.

He walked out of the room—and found no one until he reached the reception desk. Ilya sat on the stool behind the desk, reading Vicki’s guest register and making notes on a pad of lined paper.

“I gave the Cornleys permission to go up to their suite to finish copulating, although I think their enthusiasm for that activity has waned for the evening,” Ilya said. “Viktor and Karol are with Kira and the Crows in the kitchen. Victoria, Julian, and the Sterns are in the library, distracting themselves with books.”

“Air and Water?” Grimshaw asked.

“Have left the building. I imagine they’ve gone to entertain their kin by relating the human behavior they observed.”

“And you?” He had to talk to Cougar about bringing Doc and the EMTs up to the main house. But first he needed to confirm that the other people here weren’t in immediate danger.

“I’m making a list of all of Victoria’s guests for the past month,” Ilya replied. He removed a folded sheet of paper from beneath the pad and held it out. “You should add this to the information you collate from police in other parts of the Finger Lakes.”

Grimshaw opened the paper. Four Sanguinati names and the names of the towns and villages near the youngsters’ home territories. “You think one of them is involved?”

“Until this evening, I didn’t have a convincing reason to distrust any of the fosterlings in my care. Now?” A tiny movement of Ilya’s shoulder that Grimshaw recognized as a shrug. “Something about Kira’s and Viktor’s visit to Silence Lodge doesn’t ring true, but I have not, as yet, figured out why. And something—or someone—drew Crowbones to Lake Silence. Lastly, someone called Peter Lynchfield and enticed him to come to The Jumble on the night humans were supposed to stay away and stay out of sight. Until we find who is responsible, there are not many people either of us can afford to trust—even among our own.”

“I’m going to tape off that vehicle and the body, then help Cougar bring the EMTs and Doc Wallace up here,” he said. “Shouldn’t be long. After that, I’ll interview the people here and get some answers.” One way or another. If he had to march each guest out to the car and have them look at Lynchfield’s body, he’d do it. These people were too cavalier about staying in a terra indigene settlement. They were treating this whole thing like being in a fun house at a county fair. The scary stuff ended when you walked out the door and nothing could really hurt you.

Here the deadly began when a person walked out the door.

Pushing that thought aside, Grimshaw walked out of the main house and felt the dark like a physical weight. He’d never minded the dark when he’d worked highway patrol, the hours of late night. But he’d usually been tucked into his small apartment or driving his cruiser along his designated route, comforted by the illusion that metal and speed could win against whatever might be out there, watching. Waiting.

He called the EMTs and Doc Wallace again, assuring all the men that they would have an escort and no one would think they were trespassing, and confirming that they were en route and would be there as quickly as possible.

He called Officer Osgood, listened to the “nothing happening in the village” report, then asked the rookie to check e-mail before he clocked out, forwarding everything coming in from ITF agents and police captains to Grimshaw’s personal e-mail.

“And Osgood?” Grimshaw added. “Check the sent e-mails to confirm that Viktor did e-mail all the ITF agents. Let me know if he missed any.”

“He seems to know how to use the computers,” Osgood said.

“I know, but he’s young. Check it anyway.”

“Yes, sir.”

Ilya’s remark about not trusting anyone scratched at him. Viktor seemed like a solid baby cop in the making, but that didn’t mean the youngster wouldn’t delete an e-mail that might hold information he wouldn’t want the adults to see. And Karol was at an age when impulse control was more of an idea than a reality. Easy enough for him to do something without considering the consequences. Grimshaw hadn’t seen enough of Kira to get a feel for the girl, except to recognize she had the looks to be every teenage boy’s dream—and every father’s nightmare. But Ian’s and Michael’s concerns about what might be underneath her flirting couldn’t be dismissed. Still, she seemed to be doing well with Vicki, so he wasn’t going to rock that boat without a reason.

When he reached the car, he taped off the road and the area around the vehicle. He wasn’t going to call in a CIU team. No arrests would be made for this death. He closed the driver’s-side door to keep smaller predators from making off with bits of Peter Lynchfield, then went around to the other side and looked through the glove box for registration and insurance cards.

Registration and insurance confirmed it was Lynchfield’s car.

Glancing into the back seat, Grimshaw frowned at the shopping bags from Pops’s general store and the delivery box of wrapped sandwiches that must have come from the diner.

Had Lynchfield been making a supply run and then been lured here for some reason? Or had he picked up the food to have a legitimate reason to be away from the cabins but had intended to come to The Jumble all along?

No answers until Grimshaw could talk to the other men at the Mill Creek Cabins and see if any of them had been aware of Lynchfield’s plans—or had overheard a phone call.

A rustle of leaves. A stealthy, barely there sound.

Grimshaw eased out of the car and looked toward the trunk, resisting the urge to reach for his weapon. He didn’t shine his flashlight directly at the sound, but he picked up the gleam of eyes and then recognized the Coyote and Bobcat. He didn’t think either of them would actively hunt a human, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t take advantage of meat when it was easily available—especially when the days were getting shorter and the nights colder.

“I need this body to stay the way it is,” he said. “We’ll be moving it out in a little while, once we take care of some things up at the house.” He waited, certain they had intended to make off with a meaty rib or two. “There’s some human food in these bags that will go to waste if someone doesn’t eat it. You should take it up to the house and have Miss Vicki and Ilya look it over for anything that might not sit well with you folks.”

“Hookay,” Bobcat said.

Grimshaw pulled the bags and box out of the car, handed them over, and watched the two terra indigene head for the house. Then he closed the car doors and wrapped yellow tape around the vehicle. Wouldn’t stop anyone from tearing the tape and taking parts of the body, but he hoped enough of the Others were familiar with police investigating now to respect a taped-off area—or be more curious about what the police would do than about the body inside the car.

As he circled the car a second time, he wondered about the big rock on the road. He didn’t remember needing to swerve around it when he’d driven up to the main house on previous visits.

His light reflected off something shiny. More than one bit of shiny.

Examining the ground around the rock, Grimshaw realized the rock hadn’t been there even a few hours ago. Someone had picked it up and dropped it on Peter Lynchfield’s camera.