There. I blew out a sigh of relief and unfolded the glasses with a snap of my wrist. Lucky I hadn’t stepped on them. I held them up in what little light there was. They’d survived the fall intact, thanks no doubt to landing in a soft bed of ash.
I blew off the dust and slipped them on with a relieved smile.
I was whole again.
“Juno, you stupid hump, where the fuck are you?”
I picked my way back through the tree’s weeping canopy, the rustling ruckus serving as my answer.
Detective Mark Josephs approached from the patio entrance, Maggie following a few paces behind. “We got your message. Who was that who called us?”
“Maria. A friend.” I didn’t know what to do with my right arm. Hide it? Give an empty wave? I let it hang by my side. “Thanks for coming.”
The courtyard tree had me cast in night shadow. Maggie hadn’t noticed yet. “We spent a few hours working the crime scene upstairs. Wu’s wife and kids are all dead, butchered, but there may be a witness. Somebody took a couple shots at the killer and chased him down to a sweatshop before getting himself wounded and disappearing. We were ready to start canvassing hospitals when Lieutenant Rusedski pulled us off the case.”
“He say why?”
“He said a second dead cop makes this case too high-profile to run a regular investigation. He’s going to create a task force and run it himself.”
“You ask if Mota was behind the move?”
“No. I figured Rusedski just didn’t want me working such a big case.”
“Why not?”
“He doesn’t want to share the spotlight. He thinks I’m after his job.”
“Are you?”
“I just got a promotion.”
In other words, not yet.
I dropped the first bombshell. “Mota didn’t kill Wu.”
Josephs dropped his jaw. “The fuck you say? You said it was brass who did Froelich.”
“I didn’t say I was sure.”
“You shittin’ me? Dammit, Juno, that’s a helluva thing to be wrong about. How do you know he didn’t do it?”
“Because I’m your witness.”
“You were here?”
“I was inside when the killer came back with Wu’s head.”
“That was you in the firefight?”
“Yeah.” I raised my right. “Caught the short end of it.” Bombshell number two.
Maggie snatched me by my new short sleeve and pulled me out into the light of a patio lamp. She stared at the void where my hand should be. “Why aren’t you in a hospital?”
“It’s all fixed up,” I lied. “No big deal.”
“No big deal?”
“The thing didn’t work right anyway.”
Her voice gained volume. “Shit, are you crazy? We’re not talking about a broken phone. You lost your hand. Your hand! ”
I shrugged. I was getting used to the idea.
“Dammit, Juno, you should be in a hospital.”
“I can deal.”
“Are you kidding me? You can deal? Is that all you have to say?”
“Um, yeah.”
She popped me in the chest, a quick shot with her fist.
“What was that for?” I said with max indignation. “What do you want me to say?”
She turned away and started pacing, her angry heels muffled by a carpet of ash.
I looked at Josephs. “What am I supposed to say?”
Josephs shook his big, round head. “This is some fucked-up shit. Even for you.”
Maggie paced, left and right, back and forth. I stayed silent, letting her work it off. I didn’t know why she was so upset. I really didn’t.
“Does it hurt?” asked Josephs.
“I’m on pain blockers.”
With a sigh, Maggie stopped pacing and ran her fingers into her hair. She squeezed down on her long locks like she was wringing the agitation out of her face, forcing it all the way down into her tapping foot. “Tell us about the killer.”
I gave them a description. Tall. Skinny. Dark hair and darker eyes. Skin the color of dead vines.
“A local?”
“Right down to the ratty clothes. But this punk could shift. He became a lizard just before he clamped my arm.”
“A lizard?”
“Beaded skin. Forked tongue.”
“I don’t know many locals who can shift. Could’ve been an offworlder in disguise, couldn’t it? Maybe the killer goes native to blend in with us.”
“No, I saw a tube of glue in his pocket. He’s a huffer. Offworlders can afford better drugs than that.”
“If he’s too poor to buy good drugs, how did he afford the tech he needs to shift?”
“I don’t know. But trust me, the guy’s a local. He was too ugly to be an offworlder.”
“Did he bite you?”
“No. He grabbed me with his hand, but his hand had teeth. It was like being bit by a monitor, except the teeth were made of steel.”
Maggie’s phone rang before I could explain. Abdul Salaam’s holo appeared, bald head and thick glasses. I grinned at the sight of him. The old coroner was a longtime friend. “Have you seen Juno?” he asked Maggie without saying hello, the urgency in his voice at odds with the holo’s saccharine smile.
“He’s right here.”
“That blood from the sweatshop, the DNA says-”
“It’s his. We know.”
“He okay?”
I stepped up close to Maggie to get in range of her phone’s receiver. “Just a scratch, Abdul. Have you passed my ID up the chain?”
“Of course not. Not until I talked to you. Want it hushed?”
“Yeah. I’m getting enough heat as it is.” I tossed a deliberate glance in Maggie’s direction.
“No problem,” said Abdul.
That was what I loved about him-as dependable as he was loyal. A true friend. When Paul and I ran KOP, Abdul was our chief evidence manipulator, the king of faux forensics-ginned-up genetics, phony fingerprints, bullshit blood spatter…
When we needed a frame, he’d be ready with wood and nails.
“What else do you have, Abdul?” asked Maggie.
“I heard you and Josephs got pulled from the case.”
“True, but we’re going to keep at it awhile.”
“Because of Juno?”
“Yeah, because of Juno,” she said with subzero enthusiasm.
“I know how that goes. Have you heard the rumors floating around?”
“That Juno had something to do with Froelich’s death?”
“Yeah, and there’s another one going around that says Captain Mota in PR was responsible. I’ve heard it both ways.”
“They’re both false.”
“I figured as much. This killer’s a vicious bastard. At first I thought that after being stabbed, Maribela Wu was attacked by a monitor. The wounds where her breasts and vagina used to be look like bite marks, but what kind of monitor would target just those three locations on her body? So I measured the wounds, and they didn’t measure right to be bites.”
I knew what that was about. I broke in to describe the killer’s steel-trap hand-the way it came out of nowhere, the opposing rows of fanged metal. He was a biter instead of a chewer.
“You get nipped? Is that where the blood came from?”
“Yeah. The thing clamped down strong as a motherfucker.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said with more emphasis than necessary. I didn’t need Maggie chiming in.
“That steel hand sounds high-tech enough that it has to be an offworlder, don’t you think?”
“He was a local.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
“It okay if I pass what you’ve told me along to Rusedski?”
“Yeah. The sooner we squash the rumors about me and Mota, the better.”
Maggie asked Abdul, “Ever seen a hand like that?”
“Maybe. I searched the database for bodies with similar bites. We get a lot of corpses that have been fed upon, but I filtered for people who were fed upon by bigger game.”
“Find any that were beheaded?”
“No. So either Froelich and Wu were his first victims, or he’s killed before but the decapitation is new.”
“Any with missing sex organs?”
Good question.
“Plenty, but I ruled out the ones that had been eaten all over. That left me with one male found naked with missing sex organs and minimal damage elsewhere.”
Josephs spoke up, a devilish smile on his face. “So unless those monitors suddenly developed a taste for sausage…”
I rolled my eyes. Asshole.
Maggie spoke into the phone. “How easy would it be to mistake our killer’s bites for monitor bites?”
“Pretty damn easy. Unless you had a reason to check for monitor saliva or the presence of one of the bacteria strains that live in their mouths, you wouldn’t know. Even though the bites I found on Maribela Wu were smaller than a typical monitor bite, you could mistake them for bites from an immature monitor, or maybe a really big iguana. Postmortem bites are common enough that you wouldn’t look that close unless you had a reason.”
“But this is all theoretical, isn’t it?” I asked. “You can’t pin that body in the database on our killer with any certainty.”
“True. But I thought you might find it interesting that he had a tattoo on his cheek.”
My doubt evaporated. “Two snakes?”
“Two snakes,” he confirmed. “Just like Froelich’s.”
Abdul was on to something. Theory solidified into fact. “We need an ID on that stiff.”
“The name is Franz Samusaka.”
“Where was he found?”
“I’ll send you the info. The first responders found his death suspicious enough to call in Homicide, but the hommy dicks ruled it an accidental overdose.”
“You think they were covering it up?”
“It’s likely. This is KOP, right?”
“Who were the detectives?”
“Froelich and Wu.”
Fucking figures. Those two beheaded assholes were pissing me off with this convoluted bullshit.
“You want me to keep Samusaka out of my report?”
I told him yes. Keep Rusedski in the dark. The lieutenant was too close to Mota to be trusted.
“I’ll see you day after tomorrow, Juno?”
“For what?” I made no effort to hide my confusion.
“Robert’s graduation party.”
Right. Paul’s son was about to graduate from the Academy. Paul’s widow was going to throw him a party after. “Let me get back to you.”
“You don’t sound very sure.”
I wasn’t. “Later, Abdul.”
After a quick thank-you, Maggie let him off the hook. Then her emerald eyes turned on me, their radioactive glow making it clear she wouldn’t be doing the same for me.
“You said Captain Mota did Froelich.” Her eyes burned hot in the dim light.
“I said he might have done it.”
“You don’t accuse a cop unless you’re sure,” said Josephs. “You let that scar-headed Wu shoot his mouth off about Mota at the Beat. Now that Wu’s dead, what are people gonna-”
Maggie stopped him. “That’s not the issue here. If Mota didn’t kill Froelich and Wu, then he’s got no stake in this. So what’s his beef with you, Juno?”
“Beats me.”
“Yeah,” said Josephs. “What the fuck?”
I tried to shrug it off like I didn’t know.
Maggie kept at me. “Why is Mota poking his nose in this case? Why is he spreading rumors about you?”
“How should I know?” I tried to say it straight, nonchalant, but my voice betrayed me, a defensively high pitch giving me away.
Josephs stepped toward me. “Don’t play innocent. Talk.”
“Talk,” echoed Maggie with her uranium stare.
I tried to conjure my enforcer’s face, a shield of pure steel to keep out the radiation. It wouldn’t come, my inner enforcer running for cover. “Fine! Fucking fine. You want to know? I took over his protection business.”
Maggie closed her eyes and shook her head.
“What protection business?” asked Josephs.
“Mota was taking money from the snatch houses in the alley near Floodbank.”
“When you say you took it over, you mean you bought him out?”
I shook my head no. “I did it old-school.”
“You and what army?”
“Me and my crew.”
“Don’t fucking tell me. Froelich and Wu?”
“Them and a few others.”
“You that hard up for cash?”
“It’s not about the money.”
“Then what is it?”
I looked at Maggie. She was pacing again.
“Well?” asked Josephs.
“KOP has to change,” I said.
“What does that have to do with it?” He turned to Maggie. “What’s he talking about?”
Maggie stopped pacing to look at me, her expression unreadable.
I repeated my defense. “KOP has to change.”
She turned on her heel and walked away.