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  The corner of Fifth and Broad was on the wrong side of town. It wasn’t news to find a body dump there, and it must involve an Other or else I wouldn’t be called in.

  I pulled up to find a half dozen cop cars at the end of an alley. It didn’t look like any of the businesses that backed up to this alley were still actually in business. I walked down to the dumpster a Wizard was currently looking in.

  “Hey, Al. What have we got?” I asked.

  He looked up for a moment. “Hello Avery. A Human male. Looks to be in his early twenties. I’m looking for cause of death right now.”

  I nodded. Albert Johnson is our Gray Wizard. His specialty is locating magic of any kind and tracing it back to the person who used it. If a Human was killed by supernatural means, Albert can tell you who did it and how. It was because of him that we were able to catch the bad guys like the Demon last night. Without him, and Others like him, we would have no proof that an Other actually did the killing, let alone which Other did it.

  “That is weird,” Al said.

  “What would that be?” I looked into the dumpster. There was a guy in torn up jeans and a rock band t-shirt with spiked hair laying inside. I saw no blood but he was definitely dead.

  “There is magic surrounding him but he wasn’t killed by magic. From what I can see, he died from strangulation.”

  “Does that mean that the killer had magic but just didn’t use it to kill this guy? Or, that the dead guy has magic but was killed by regular means?”

  “From what I see, the first would be correct. This fellow was definitely mundane Human.”

  Huh. That was strange. Most Others, which incorporated all beings other than mundane Humans, would use their magic if they were going to kill a Human. They figure “Why get their hands dirty”. This was odd. Why would he strangle the guy if he could have used magic to kill him? I mean, not all Others could work spells and potions. Take Vamps and Weres for example. They have magic and when they kill a Human by either draining them of blood or shredding them with their claws, it still shows up that the Human was killed by magical means. Because a Were’s transformation and a Vamp’s fangs are their magical weapons, so to speak. Al was saying that whoever killed this guy had magic available but just chose not to use it to kill him. Why?

  “You are sure the killer was an Other, right?” I asked.

  He gave me a nasty look. “Of course I’m sure.”

  I held my hands out in front of me. “Okay. Sorry, I was just making sure. Sheesh. Did you find an ID on him?”

  “There wasn’t anything in his front pockets. I was waiting until someone arrived to help me remove him from this dumpster before I could reach his back pockets.”

  He gave me a pointed look. Uh, no. Dumpster diving is not in my job description. Not that I haven’t had to dive in a dumpster before while working a job, but that was a “save my ass” moment and this is definitely not.

  I walked over to the men in blue hovering in the perimeter.

  “Al needs a big strong man to help him remove the body.”

  Nobody moved.

  “I was referring to one of you. I can see how you would misunderstand me,” I said sternly while looking at their over-sized bellies.

  Even though they were regular beat cops, they were to work in conjunction with our task force and assist us in any way we need, but usually they tried to stay out of it.

  “I hear you’re half Demon. Why don’t you use your demonic powers to remove the body,” one of the wiseasses said.

  “I have a better idea. Why don’t I use my demonic powers to suck your soul out and send it south where it’s going to end up in a few years anyway?”

  Surprisingly enough, he didn’t think that was funny. His friends started looking around nervously. I wouldn’t know how to suck someone’s soul out if my own depended on it. But, they didn’t know that.

  “I’ll be sure to tell my captain about your threat,” he said.

  “And I’ll be sure to tell mine how uncooperative you were,” I replied.

  That seemed to change their attitude. No one wanted to be on Sergeant Copula’s bad side. They all three walked over to the dumpster and soon had the guy laid out on the body bag Al provided. Al checked the other pockets and found a wallet.

  “Stephen Wilkins. 403 Fifth Street, apartment 3C. There are no credit cards or bank receipts. No keys. Nothing else that would help find next of kin,” Al said as he handed me the ID.

  “Alright. Thanks.” I turned to the assholes. “I need the entire dumpster went through. Anything that you think might be evidence needs to be bagged up and sent to HQ.”

  I didn’t wait to hear their replies. I just walked back to my car and headed for Fifth Street. I’m sure they were pissed to be given such a menial task but I really didn’t care. That’s what they get for being assholes. As homicide agent of the Human’s Rights task force, I outrank them even though they are from another division.

  When I arrived at 403 Fifth, I parallel parked then headed up to the third floor. I knocked on the door before entering the apartment. When no one answered, I picked the lock and went inside. It looked like a typical bachelor pad. The TV and Xbox were the most expensive things in the entire place. I spent the next hour going through what little paperwork I could find and managed to locate the telephone number of his mother. It looked like he worked at a local coffee shop, and went to college at Georgia Tech. That’s what I had figured. Most people that live in the apartments around the colleges are students. I pulled out my phone and called HQ.

  “Cop.”

  “Hey, I’m at our dead guy’s apartment. I found the number to his mom. You want to have someone with some compassion call her? Or would you prefer I do it?”

  “Give me the number.”

  I gave it to him.

  “He works are Leon’s Coffee off Techwood Avenue. I’m going to head over there to see what else I can find out. I’ll come to the office when I’m finished.”

  “’Kay.”

  He hung up. I put my cell away then decided to check with the neighbors just in case they knew anything.

  Man that was a waste of time. The first door I knocked on belonged to the local weed man. If the pungent smoke boiling out of the door was any indication. It’s like eight o’clock in the morning. Who gets up and smokes weed with their morning cereal? He said he didn’t know Stephen well. I took that to mean Stephen wasn’t a regular customer. The guy was so high it was like pulling teeth to get him to answer a question. After waiting for five minutes for him to finish one sentence only to have him stop halfway and zone out or say ‘uh, uh, uh, what was I saying?’, I just interrupted his mid-sentence daydream and thanked him for his time. Before I left, I couldn’t help but tell him that Cheech called and wants his bong back. Of course his response was “huh?” so I told him never mind and left for the next neighbor who was an old cat lady. I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say she was harder to get away from than Stoner was.

  I walked into Leon’s Coffee and the smell of roasted beans had me practically floating to the counter. As the barista, a young woman with electric blue hair, was fixing my latte, I asked her about her coworker.

  “Yeah, I know Steph. He usually works evenings three nights a week,” she said.

  “When was the last time he worked?”

  “He was here on Thursday night. We closed together.”

  “What time was that?”

  “Uh, I left about ten o’clock. He was just about finished closing up when I left.”

  I nodded my understanding then moved on to my next question.

  “Do you know what he does on his nights off?”

  She shrugged. “I think he was in college. I remember him talking about Georgia Tech. I don’t really remember anything else.”

  “You don’t know where he hangs out or with who?”

  She started slowly shaking her head then said, “He did mention that band Darkened. You know the one that plays at Halo, the club over
on Roswell?” I nodded and she continued. “We are both fans. But I never actually saw him there or anything, and me and my friends hang out there on Friday and Saturday nights all the time if I have off. They are sooo hot.”

  Well that was helpful. Not. “Alright. Could you give me your supervisor’s name and number? I’d like to talk to them.”

  “Uh, okay. Is Steph in trouble or something?”

  “He’s dead. He was murdered and I’m trying to find out who did it.”

  She put her hand to her mouth. “Oh my goodness,” she said then went about shakily writing the boss’s name and number for me.

  I thanked her and took my coffee to go.

  I had just gotten back to my car when my cell rang.

  “Hello.”

  “Avy, you will not believe what happened to me last night,” Temmy said.

  I said the first thing that popped in my head.

  “You hooked up with Sexy Singer and he was impotent.”

  “Haha. You’re so funny. Did you catch the sarcasm? It actually is funny you said that because he did come over and talk to me after their set, and he invited me and you to a party at their house tonight. Isn’t that awesome?”

  “Yeah, that’s great Temmy. I hope you have lots of fun and I really hope he isn’t impotent.”

  “There is no way a man that sexy could be limp. They have drugs for that you know.

  “The Gods praise Viagra.”

  “Okay, no more joking around. You have to come with me. You were personally invited after all.”

  “No can do. I’m in the middle of a case. Plus, I don’t see how I was personally invited when I haven’t even met the guy.”

  “He asked about you when he came to talk to me last night then invited me to the party, and told me to bring you. You can take the night off. I mean, the person is obviously dead or you wouldn’t be assigned to the case. They’re going to be just as dead if you take the night off.”

  “That’s nice, Temmy. I’ll be sure to use that next time I’m talking to the next of kin.”

  “Your boss isn’t stupid enough to have you talking to the next of kin after that last time. Please Avy, he specifically said for me to bring my friend. That would be you. I’ve been trying to get in this guy’s pants for months.”

  “You have more friends than just me. Invite Saundra, she’d love it. Groupie is right up her alley.”

  “Then I’ll have to fight her for Sexy singer’s attentions. At least if you come, I won’t have any competition.”

  I’m not sure but I think I should be offended over that statement.

  “I am truly sorry that I can’t accompany you as your ugly-friend-that-nobody-wants, but I really do have work to do.”

  “You know you are anything but ugly. I only meant that you wouldn’t want the guy therefore I wouldn’t have any competition. Are you sure you can’t come?”

  “Sorry. We found a body dump this morning and I’ve got to figure out who did him in and why.”

  “I guess I’ll call Saundra then. You owe me for this. Next Saturday. Don’t even think about canceling.”

  “Yes mother. I’ll be there with bells on.”

  “You better be.”

  I hung up. That guy obviously didn’t know me or he would have never bothered to invite me to a party. Groupie was definitely not my thing. Temmy would have a lot more fun with Saundra even with the competition. Saundra was a typical party girl, which is why she and Temmy were friends to begin with. I will be spending the evening back at HQ seeing if I can find out any more info on Stephen Wilkins.

  Three

  I walked into the HRTF precinct to find Davis and Kansas betting on who could ring the trashcan from across the room first. Those two will bet on anything. Davis a Werecougar and Kansas a magic-wielding Human, they have been partners since Kansas came to work here.

  “Interference. That hot mama can’t walk into the room while I’m shooting. It totally throws off my game,” Davis said.

  “What game? You know you white boys ain’t got no game,” Kansas replied.

  He always janked on Davis for being a white boy. And, I do mean white. Any whiter and he’d glow. When I first found out that he was a Werecougar, my response was “Aren’t cougars typically black”. He explained that his cougar was black, but unfortunately, he got his dad’s coloring and so he would always be a pale little white boy. He was about my height and the only coloring on his face was the gazillion freckles.

  “I thought I heard something about Latinos not having any game either. Maybe that was just you,” I said to Kansas.

  His real name is Gorge Rodriguez but ever since he transferred here from Kansas City he’s been known as Kansas. He isn’t very strong magically (definitely not Wizard status) but he is a really good detective. He could spot things, and understand their meanings, that veteran detectives who’ve been doing this their whole lives would miss.

  “I know you didn’t just go there. You’re on now. Show us what you got,” Kansas said.

  I looked at him like he had lost his mind. We were talking about throwing a wadded up piece of paper at a trashcan after all. He just looked at me like “a bet is a bet”. So I took the paper ball he handed me and tossed it into the trashcan.

  “Oh no. Girl’s got game. Kansas, you just got shown,” Davis said.

  I decided it was time to move on. I had better things to do than the trashcan Olympics.

  “She just got in a lucky shot,” Kansas said as I walked away.

  I went to Cop’s door and knocked since it was closed.

  “Come,” he said.

  I walked in. “Did you call the mom?”

  “Davis did. She’s heading to the morgue.”

  I nodded. “You want me to interview her or are you going to have Davis do it?”

  He looked at me with one brow raised. It’s not that I can’t show compassion. If it was someone I knew, I could total be compassionate but when it came to perfect strangers it was hard for me to console them while at the same time try to get the information I needed. It was usually easier once they had time to come to terms with their loss. The only problem was that most people took weeks, months, or even years to come to terms.

  “You think you could talk to this one without yelling at her?” Cop asked.

  “Mrs. Barnes was crazy. She was twenty-three years old married to a ninety year old man, and couldn’t stop howling at the top of her lungs for five damned minutes so that I could ask her a question. I would like to point out that the investigation showed she had convinced her Wizard lover to murder her husband for her.”

  “She hasn’t been proven guilty yet.”

  “Yet. If she gets off, then the jury is a bunch of idiots. Look up the word ‘gold-digger’ in the dictionary. I promise you there’s a picture of Angela Barnes next to it.”

  Cop huffed so I got to the point.

  “As long as this mother has some control and is willing to try to answer my questions, I will do my best not to tell her to shut up. See, I can be sympathetic.”

  He looked at me with his brow raised again.

  “Is she supposed to stop by after the morgue?”

  Please say yes. I hate the morgue. Unfortunately, I have to visit it pretty regularly.

  Cop nodded.

  “’Kay. I’m going to see what info I can dig up on our victim until she gets here. I interviewed the neighbors. Total waste of time. Same with the coffee shop. Well, other than the latte I picked up. I’m going to call the boss to see if he can tell me anything more than the coworker did.”

  Cop nodded and I left the room. I went to my office. It was supposed to be shared with my partner, but as I said, I don’t work well with others. Mostly they just piss me off and slow me down. I’d much rather do the work myself. Unless it involves going through a dumpster that is.

  Three hours later I knew no more about my vic than I did before. The boss knew even less about his employee than the coworker did. There were no police records o
n him. I called the college and got his schedule then systematically called all the teachers whose classes he had. Half of them had to look up his records just to know who I was talking about, and none of them could tell me who his friends were. I told all of them to notify the class of his passing and if anyone knew anything about his whereabouts Thursday, to have them call me. Then I called the coroner to find out if he had a time of death.

  “Avery, my luscious beauty,” Chris Smith, the medical examiner, said.

  “Hey Chris, I need to get a TOD on Stephen Wilkins. He was brought in this morning.”

  “And you couldn’t take the time out of your busy schedule to come visit me? I’m offended. You know it makes my day to see your gorgeous body.”

  Yeah I knew. Chris was one of the reasons I didn’t like the morgue. He hit on me nonstop while I was there and, no matter how much I rebuked his advances, was somehow convinced that we had a thing going.

  “I’m sure you’ll get over it. What about the vic?” I said.

  “I love it when you play hard to get. I should make you come down here in person to get the information but I know you are busy so the TOD was between midnight and three am.”

  Damn, that wasn’t long before I was called in. I better find out how he was found.

  “Alright Chris. Thanks.”

  I didn’t wait for his perverted response, and just hung up on him. Then I pulled up the police report on the incident. Anonymous caller. Huh. Probably the killer. I pulled up the call and listened to it. It was a man but it sounded muffled like maybe he had something over the receiver to distort his voice.

  “Nine one one, what’s your emergency?”

  “There is a dead Human in a dumpster at the corner of Fifth and Broad.”

  End of call. Well, that didn’t give me much to go on. He does kind of give himself away as an Other by calling the dead guy a Human, but I already knew he was an Other so that didn’t do me any favors. Guess I’ll talk to the mom and hope she gives me some good information. At this point, all I know is he was last seen on Thursday at ten when he left his job and was killed early this morning. Today is Saturday so where was he all of yesterday?