Phantom prey

The ambient light came from the condos, a bar, a couple of street-lights, the cars on the bridge; not much, but enough to see his eyes widen. He stepped back from her. “You know, they say Dick…”

“Dick…?'

'Dick was talking to a fairy Goth before he was killed.'

'A fairy Goth?'

'You know…” He smiled, defensive, glanced back toward the bar

“Like you.'

'Me.'

'It doesn’t mean anything,” he said. “But you know… was it you?” She let her shoulders slump and she looked up at him, her smile gone and she said, “You’re asking me…'

'You know, just because you seem interested in the murders…'

'Is she dead? Or alive?'

'For God’s sakes, how would I know?” There was a note of irritation in his voice now, and maybe fear. He was thinking about her, about how close she was, about how the darkness was almost palpable. Running, screaming, wouldn’t be manly, would it? And if she was innocent, he was blowing a shot at the highest-quality pussy ever to step out with him… He looked down at her, saw something in her eyes; and she saw him seeing it.

She sighed and said, “Uh- oh,” and slipped her hand into her coat and felt the dry wooden handle on the knife.

“What?” he asked. He was looking around again, but they were alone. “Maybe we should go…”

The knife slipped in so easily. Soft and easy, like it’d slip into the breast meat of a roasted chicken, just out of the oven. She looked up at his eyes, now wider, feeling it, not sure what it was.

She had the handle in one hand, the other hand supporting the first, and she ripped him and he went “Ah!” and tried to run, his legs going all wobbly. He banged into a bench and went over it, and down. She stepped up next to him, knelt, and wiped the knife on his shirt. Sat and watched. He never looked at her, his eyelids simply batted for a while and then stopped.

He was gone. She stood up, put the knife back into the jacket. Looked around at the lights; and Loren whispered from somewhere nearby, Time to go; but don’t run.

Back in the car, Loren’s eyes were in the rearview mirror. He asked, “Did you enjoy it?”

“A little,” she said. Then, “No, not really.” And, a moment later, “I wish he’d told us where she is. How she is.”

“Hovering,” Loren said. “We can bring her back, if we can find her. I can sense her, but we need more information. It would help if we knew where she was on the material plane, so we could lay our hands on her.”

“Oh, God.'

'We still have another possibility, another suspect,” Loren said. “One more,” she said. “But maybe we could wait a day or two or three. This one hurt me. The first one, Ford, didn’t hurt me. This one did.”

“Okay.” Down through the city in the Batmobile. After a while, she said, “I lied. It did feel good. I can’t deny it. But it felt good and hurt me at the same time. I had more control, this time, though. I can wait until I get home to fuck you. Last time, I couldn’t.”

His eyes in the mirror: “I know. You’re growing.'

'But I need to find out about Frances,” Fairy said. “I need to find everybody involved-I need to end this.”

7

Inside November, Lucas talked with the two Goth couples about Roy and the woman. Both of the male Goths were tall and thin, dressed in black from head to toe: Greg and Dave. Dave seemed to be wearing a skirt, but it may have been a jacket tied around his waist. Both of the women were short and chunky: Sharon and Wanda, who was called Wolfie; both with black fingernail polish and scarlet lipstick.

“They were being flirty,” Sharon said. “Cute with each other. She was holding his hand. There was something going on.”

“He doesn’t have another friend?” Lucas asked. “Roy? No. Not recently.'

'An odd couple,” Greg said, pensively. “Why odd?” Lucas asked. “Well, she’s pretty hot,” Greg said. He snapped a sideways glance at his girlfriend and then said, “Roy… I’ve never heard a woman call him hot.”

“He doesn’t ring a lot of bells,” Wolfie agreed. “Tell me about the woman.” The fairy woman was short, lithe, dark- haired, pale- complected, probably in her early twenties. Well-dressed, in the Goth style. Leather jacket, with what Sharon said was a “really nice top. Her skirt was cheapish, though. It looked cheap. Too short.”

“Nice shoes,” said Wolfie. “Older than early twenties,” Sharon said. “Too self- possessed

Knows what she wants, and making friends isn’t one of them.” Dave grinned and said, “She had an early- twenties ass.'

'Where does Roy get off running around with a chick like that?” Greg asked. He seemed offended. “I mean, she is somewhat out of his league, don’t you think?”

The Goths all nodded at one another. “Too good,” Dave said. “Why’s somebody that good hanging with Roy?'

'He’s actually a good guy,” Jean said. “Yeah, but good like Charlie Brown…” They were still talking when Shockley and Price, the Goths whom Lucas had interviewed earlier, came through the door with a long haired man in a field jacket and blue jeans bloused over combat boots. Lucas asked one of the Goths, “See the fairy over there? Does she look like the one with Roy?”

“Leigh? Oh… she’s over in that direction, but it wasn’t Leigh. I mean…” He raised his voice. “Hey! Leigh!”

Price turned their way, spotted Lucas, came over: “Find her?'

'Just missed her,” Lucas said. “She was here with Roy,” one of the Goths in the booth said. Price shook her head: “I don’t know him.'

'The guy who started the chicken dance.” Price smiled: “Okay.” To Lucas: “I know who he is now. But I don’t know him.'

'Chicken dance?” Jean asked. “At the Halloween party. He started people doing the chicken dance. That’s not something that Goths do every day.”ON THE WAY out with Jean, Price hooked him by the elbow and pulled him aside, and asked, “So what do you do when you’re not copping?”

He felt a little ridiculous when he said it, but he said it anyway: “Taking care of my wife and kids.”

“Don’t cops have rocky marriages?'

'Some do.” He smiled. “I could introduce you to some, if you want. I got this guy Virgil…'

'Virgil Flowers?” Her face lit up. “You know Virgil? I knew he was a cop.” Lucas smiled, stepped back. “He works for me.'

'Well, shoot. If you see him, tell him that Leigh says hi.'

'He’s been married so often that he’s got a ‘Just hitched’ sign in his closet,” Lucas said. “I don’t want to marry him,” she said. “He’s just a really… interesting guy.” Lucas nodded, said, as though jilted, “Well. Maybe see you around,” and headed out the door. “What was that all about?” Jean asked, as she trailed behind. “Just this guy,” Lucas said. “That fuckin’ Flowers.” Lucas left Jean at her apartment. She said she’d stay up until Roy got back. “I’ll be up late. When he comes in, call my cell,” Lucas said, as he scribbled the number on the back of one of his business cards. “So. Call me.”

“You think Roy’s all right?'

'I wish they hadn’t disappeared like that,” Lucas said. “It was so quick, it was like they were running. I wish she hadn’t been too good for Roy. That worries me.”

“That kind of judgment…'

'… Is almost always right,” Lucas said. “Not fair, but right.”

Weather was still awake when he got home, sitting in the kitchen, public radio playing around her as she