Dark Places Page 15

  Me, too. I had a vision of my own, and it involved driving around town with the Amazing Kreskin, afraid to think thoughts for fear of being eavesdropped on.

  “Good, here he is now. You ready to meet him?” Charlie was looking over my head and through the glass door of his office. He motioned for his tiny secretary, Madge, to usher the man in. I turned to see if he had a pink aura or something ephemeral around his head.

  He had an aura, all right. He was about the best-looking guy I’d ever laid eyes on, except for Black, maybe. Tall, buff, long dark-blond hair that almost reached his shoulders. A couple of days unshaven, probably going for the bad-boy look. He was wearing tight jeans and brown leather hiking boots, a black sweatshirt that said USC, and an unzipped black parka with brown fur around the hood. Oops, he forgot to wear the obligatory black leather jacket. No self-respecting bad boy would be caught dead in a parka, but hey, maybe psychic bad boys got cold riding around on motorcycles in subzero weather. But funniest thing, I disliked him at once, didn’t trust him, either. Why, I do not know. He smiled at me and I wondered if he could read my thoughts. Just in case, I thought, You don’t fool me, you clown.

  “Hello. I’m Joe McKay.” He nodded at us. “Sheriff. Miss.”

  Miss? Who the hell did he think he was, calling me miss? “I’m no miss, McKay. I’m the lead detective on this case.”

  McKay stretched out his hand, a real friendly, smiling psychic. “Glad to meet you, Lead Detective.”

  I decided to be up-front. “If I shake your hand, you gonna read my mind?”

  Charlie said, “That’s enough, Detective. Shake the man’s hand and quit being a fuckin’ smart-ass.”

  I shook his hand.

  McKay put his forefinger to his forehead and said, “Oooh, she doesn’t like me. She doesn’t want me helping her with this case. She thinks I’m a con man.”

  I looked at Charlie. “You’re right. He can read minds.”

  To my surprise, both men laughed. Problem was, I wasn’t trying for levity.

  Charlie reached out and clasped McKay’s hand. “Welcome aboard. Don’t mind the detective here, she’ll warm up to you if you help her get her man.”

  Well, that made me sound like either a Las Vegas gold digger or a Royal Canadian Mountie.

  McKay said, “That’s okay. Most police officers resent me at first.”

  “Have a seat, Mr. McKay.”

  I sat down, too. I looked at him again. He was sexy, I decided. I wondered about his background, where he’d come from, why he’d turned up all of a sudden and saddled me with his mumbo-jumbo crap.

  “Tell us about yourself, Mr. McKay,” I invited.

  “Not a lot to tell. I’m from around here originally but have spent the last fifteen years in the Marine Corps. Demolitions.”

  Now I’d have to worry about him blowing up things. And uh-oh, Charlie was a Marine. Now they’d have that Semper Fi bonding stuff going on all over the place. I didn’t have a chance.

  “Semper Fi,” said Charlie

  “Semper Fi,” said McKay.

  “Vietnam. What about you?”

  “Iraq.”

  See what I mean? They discussed their respective military careers for a few minutes, and I wondered if the Amazing Kreskin knew so many details because he committed the murder himself. Made a lot more sense to me.

  “So you live around here? Where?”

  “North of the lake. I inherited a house up there. It’s pretty remote, but that’s what I like about it.”

  Charlie said, “We appreciate your contacting us. I was pretty shocked when your prediction panned out.”

  “Yeah. I thought I should apprise you when I first sensed what was going to happen. I hoped it wouldn’t, of course.”

  I said, “Well, don’t keep us in suspense, Master Yoda. Who did it?”

  McKay laughed again, but Charlie removed his pipe and glared at me.

  “If you can’t act professionally, Detective Morgan, then I’ll have to put Bud in charge of the Classon case.”

  Well, ouch. Point taken. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, Mr. McKay. I’m just not used to deferring to psychics during my investigations. I’m sure I’ll get used to it, given time.” Yeah, two or three decades.

  “Like I said, nobody’s glad to see me until after I prove myself. Believe me, it’s you who’ll be solving this case, Detective, not me. I’ll just try to help when I can.”

  “Thank you so much. I’m really so thrilled.”

  “Detective, I’m warning you.” Charlie, at his most restrained. But his face was the color of a ripe raspberry. Very close to bursting.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well, there it is. I’m going to let you two go get acquainted. Introduce him to Bud, too. Mr. McKay will fill you in on what he needs from you, and I expect you to listen to him and quit being so damned uncooperative. Hell, if he can help us, we’d be stupid not to use him.”

  McKay said, “Thank you, Sheriff Ramsay.”

  Thank you, Sheriff Ramsay. I parroted in a screw-you internal growl.

  “Take him out to Classon’s house, then show him where the victim was found. See if anything comes of it. Keep me posted.”

  And that was that. Charlie was done, washed the psychic out of his hair and into mine. Well, okay. I’d handled worse things in my life. I almost died a couple of times, actually. I could handle a so-called police psychic.

  Outside the office I tried to exchange amenities in the best way I could and without gritting my teeth.

  “If I’ve got to take you along, come on, but don’t think I’m going to babysit you or listen to a bunch of John Edward crap.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Lead the way.”

  Okay, so his amenities were better than mine. I’ve never been known for amenities, and I wasn’t starting with him.

  “Meet me outside, McKay. I have to get the key to Classon’s house. I guess you want to go there, right?”

  ‘Yes, ma’am. I need to handle some of his personal possessions. See if I feel anything.”

  “But of course.”

  McKay smiled and sauntered off down the hall like a reincarnated James Dean. I realized my teeth were making strange gnashing noises, so I strode off to the evidence locker. When I exited at the front entrance, my new psychic friend was sitting atop one huge Harley-Davidson motorcycle. He saluted me with two fingers and gave me a sassy grin. I nodded, then got into my Explorer, wondering if I could lose him in traffic. But oh yeah, I forgot, he could zero in on me with his mind.

  I backed out, wondering why Charlie hadn’t shoved this guy off on Bud. They were more of a pair, both cute and benignly arrogant. In the rearview mirror, I watched him put on his helmet, fire up his cycle, then swerve smoothly in behind me. We traveled like that until we hit the open highway that led north to Classon’s house. I drove carefully, just under the speed limit, in order to annoy him. It didn’t take long. After five minutes he swerved out and sped up until he was alongside my driver’s window. I glanced at him, and he saluted again, did a really impressive wheel stand, then shot off ahead of me.

  “You just got yourself a ticket, pal,” I said, no, grumbled. I reached for my flashing light then returned to my senses. It would be childish to arrest him. More importantly, Charlie would jerk me off the case. Calm and confident again, I proceeded at speed limit. About two miles up the road, he was sitting just off the road, waiting. He waved as I passed by. I ground my teeth. The psychic was a smart-ass, too. Great.

  By the time I reached Classon’s road, the day had clouded over, and I remembered that snow was forecast again, not as heavy but just as much trouble. I stopped the car in front of the house and got out, wondering if Granny Talbott down the road was eyeballing us during Sex and the City commercials. I waited politely as he killed his engine and hopped off his bike. He took off his helmet and hung it on the handlebars.

  “You drive like my grandma,” he said.

  I had a great comeback, of course, but why waste it on him? “Ple
ase follow me, Mr. McKay.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You can stop any time with the ma’am business. Detective Morgan will suffice for now, since I plan to pass you off to my partner ASAP.”

  “Yes, ma’am, Detective Morgan.”

  Oh boy, it was going to be a helluva long day. It was already a long day. “This is where we believe Simon Classon was initially assaulted and then abducted by the perp. A neighbor down the road reported him missing, and a couple of deputies secured the scene until Bud and I got here. We later determined that he’d been missing going on thirty-six hours.”

  We reached the front steps and I ducked under the crime scene tape and climbed to the porch. McKay clomped up after me and stood looking around while I took out my penknife and slit through the tape securing the door.

  I handed him latex gloves and paper booties, snapped on my own, and said, “Got anything yet?”

  He was his usual good-humored self. “Might take a minute or two.”

  “Right. Just tug on my sleeve when the visions start.”

  “You’ll probably know without me having to touch you.”

  “God is good.”

  I unlocked the door and walked inside. He followed but, alas, he was frowning at me now.

  “Look, Detective Morgan, I know you don’t like anything about me but there’s no need for us to keep knifing each other. It won’t help matters. I’ll be glad to work with this Bud guy, if you’re opposed to my being a part of your investigation.”

  I looked at him and felt a little bit like a jerk, but only a little. “Sorry. It’s not just you. I’m this way with everybody. You’ll see.”

  “Whew, that’s a relief.”

  I smiled woodenly to prove I didn’t hate him. His smile was the same easy one he’d worn since he’d walked into Charlie’s office.

  “Well okay, McKay, now we’re best buddies. What do you want to do here?”

  “Just look around.”

  “You got it. I’ll just hide and watch.”

  “I might need to take off these gloves when I pick up things.”

  “Okay. We’ve impounded the assault weapon and the scene’s been swept. Go ahead, I’ll watch in awe.”

  McKay ignored that. I had a feeling he planned to ignore me from now on. He’d made the overture. He was done. I leaned up against the wall and watched. Actually, I was interested in how a so-called police psychic went about his so-called business. Must be spooky to get visions of murder and mayhem and God knows what else. Like my dreams of late.

  He walked to the staircase and placed his right hand on the newel post. Then he moved up a few steps and looked upstairs. He put his hand on the banister and closed his eyes.

  “I see him upstairs in bed, reading. He came down here to answer the door.”

  Not exactly genius. Bud and I figured that out in five minutes. I waited for him to identify the killer. Now that would impress me.

  “He knew him. He let him in. That’s how the killer got him.”

  I wondered if it was correct etiquette to interrupt visions or if that was a no-no. So I waited until he opened his eyes and looked at me.

  “Very good. Now who did you say it was?”

  “I didn’t get that, not yet.”

  “Oh, darn. Now we’ll have to keep investigating. But we really do appreciate your help.”

  McKay laughed. “You’re something else.”

  “I’m sure you are, too.” I glanced around. I could smell the dried blood in the carpet, strong and vile in the closed-up house. “What’s next?”

  “I’d like to look around some more. That okay?”

  “Sure.”

  He started upstairs with me on his heels. He walked straight down the hall to Simon’s bedroom. He stood in the threshold for a few seconds, then moved to the bed. It was just as I’d seen it on that first night.

  “Okay if I lie down on the bed?”

  “You’re not getting kinky on me, are you, McKay?”

  “Not yet.” The look he gave me was, well, smoldering, I guess you’d call it. He did smoldering pretty well, too. Too bad I wasn’t remotely interested in him.

  “Not ever, actually.”

  “You married, then?” He was a straightforward psychic.

  “Your visions didn’t tell you?”

  “I have to touch you to get that kind of vibe.” He didn’t give me time to think up a proper put-down. “You aren’t wearing a wedding ring.”

  “I like to keep my private life private.”

  “Got it, loud and clear.”

  So, back to business he went. He lay down on the bed where the covers were thrown back. He didn’t touch anything for a few moments, then he picked up Classon’s book and his reading glasses. He closed his eyes and just lay there. Okay, ho-hum, boring, I stifled a yawn. Maybe he was just taking a nap. Poor guy, probably couldn’t sleep because of constant disturbing visions. Boy, was I ever having fun in my head today. I shrugged off my keen wit and waited, wondering if he really could help me. But if he gave even an indication of a snore, I was out of there.

  Then he jumped up, and I don’t mean he sat up, then got to his feet. He jumped to his feet off the bed. Man, that had to be hard to do. He looked strange, upset, not so easygoing anymore.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “He was really unhappy, angry, mean-spirited, full of hatred and bitterness.”

  “You got all that from lying on his bed.”

  “Yeah, and I’ll tell you what, I’m pretty unnerved right now.”

  I could tell that. He paced around some, looked out the window. “I feel what they feel sometimes. Physical pain, too. But I’m getting real bad vibes about this guy. He enjoyed hurting people, like it was some kind of hobby.”

  “You’re right. Simon Classon was not Mr. Congeniality.”

  “No, he was despicable.”

  There was that word again. “Okay, but he still didn’t deserve to die the way he did.”

  “Didn’t he?”

  Now there’s a shocker. “You think he did? Maybe I ought to show you the body and see what you think then.”

  “Yeah, maybe you should.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. Is he still at the morgue?”

  I nodded. “Do you mean right now?”

  He walked up close and before I could object, he grabbed my hand and held it between both of his. Shocked, I stared at him but his eyes were closed. When I tried to pull away, he let me go and opened his eyes.

  “You’re in danger, Detective. I see you in the hospital, I see a broken bone in your leg, I see you in dark places, close dark places with spiders and other little creepy things all around you, and I see a head injury on your victim. Here,” he pointed to where Classon’s blood icicle had been.

  I was surprised by his accuracy, but then I realized his problem. “Sorry, pal, but you’re about five months too late on the hospital and that leg prediction. Been there, done that. And we already know about the spiders. How about moving your time-travel dial ahead a few months?”

  “You need to take me seriously. Never know, maybe it’d save your life.”

  “What makes you think I don’t?”

  He grinned, and then he looked at his watch as if he’d forgotten something. No Rolex like Black’s solid-gold timepiece purchased in Geneva. McKay wore a beat-up old Timex, still ticking I presumed. “I gotta be somewhere now. Can we finish this some other time?”

  Now he was making a prediction I could go for. “I guess so. But Charlie wanted me to show you the spot where we found the body. And I was going to show you around the school where Classon worked and see if you get any tingles. I can tell you I did. All of them dark and yucky.”

  “No need. I know my way around the academy.”

  “Is that right? How?”

  “I attended a couple of classes there before I joined the Corps. You’re right, you can count the normal folks out there on one hand.”

  “You mus
t have less fingers than I do.”

  He smiled and headed downstairs.

  I followed. “Wait a minute, McKay. When were you there?”

  But McKay had his helmet in place and was revving up the chopper. Purposely drowning me out, I had a feeling. “I said, when, McKay?”

  He took off, wheeling around in the middle of the road and heading off north as if he couldn’t wait to get away from me.

  Well, hey, pal, the feeling’s mutual.

  THIRTEEN

  By the time I pulled up and parked at the academy, all was quiet and day had turned to night. The clock on the old church said 5:15. Maybe all the Mensa kiddies were at dinner in the reasonably priced food court. I suspected I’d find Bud there, too, since that was where they kept the food. I braved frigid air and slippery surfaces as I tramped down curving, partially cleared sidewalks toward Blue Building. But there were so many footsteps from the students playing, I guess, that I could use them to escape the slick spots. I was right, of course. Bud was there, having something to eat. A woman sat next to him. A fairly young woman, maybe close to forty, dressed informally in a tight black sweater, and even tighter black jeans tucked into tall black boots with four-inch spike heels. She had five gold necklaces of different lengths hanging around her neck.

  Bud finally noticed me. “Hey, Morgan, have a seat.”

  I sat down beside Bud, curious who he was making time with now. “Am I interrupting anything?”

  “Nah, this is Beulah Asholt. She’s vice-director here. Ms. Asholt, my partner, Detective Claire Morgan. “

  Asholt stuck out her hand. Long cranberry-colored nails that looked impressively lethal. Obviously she never had to type her own memos. She squeezed my hand like we were a possible item and gave me one big, fake grin. “Pleasure to meet you, ma’am. Bud’s been tellin’ me all about ya’ll’s investigation.”

  I hoped to hell not. “You’re from the south, too, I gather.”

  “Gee, how’d ya know?”

  Her accent was much more severe than Bud’s and more embarrassing to listen to, I might add. Problem was she didn’t know it.

  “Where are you from, Ms. Asholt? Georgia, too? Like Bud?”

  “Oh, no. I hail from the great state of Alabama. But I tell ya, it’s good to run into a brother from the land of Dixie, like Detective Davis, here.”