SpiralFire Projects

At first I thought I was seeing things. I'd been following Mr. Winebarger for three days, sleeping in the driver's seat of my Geo Metro and living off of nasty Starbuck's coffee. Apparently Mr. Winebarger didn't want to tarnish his metrosexual reputation by getting decent coffee at an Alterra. My nerves were frayed ragged.

Besides, last I heard elves really weren't into the Portland scene. Since my beautiful mother had adapted modern vaccines to their physiology, it was far more likely for them to hang out in Toronto or New York, where they were used to weird.

I rubbed my eyes just to be sure, and he didn't disappear. In fact, he knocked on the door I'd been watching for the last twenty minutes. Judging by the ensuing lip-lock, he was expected.

I suddenly remembered why I was there and fumbled for the Nikon resting on my passenger seat. I focused on a particularly juicy shot of Mr. Winebarger's hand on the handsome elf's ass and snapped a few frames. Enough to both satisfy Mrs. Winebarger and make me feel like a pervert.

I screamed like a little girl when someone knocked on my window. I clutched the Nikon to my chest and glared through the glass. Suspicion crept up my spine when I saw the Tolkien-meets-NYPD Blue creature on the other side of the glass. I rolled the window down just enough to hear and talk.

“You know our clients' husbands are fucking,� he said casually before I could ask him what he wanted.

A pit of dread dripped into my stomach. It was time to step back from this mess. I knew it was bad mojo to take a witch as a client. People with power attracted trouble like lint to cashmere.

“That's nice, I'm done here.� My hand went to the window crank, but before I could turn it, we both hear gut-wrenchingly familiar bangs.

Gunshots. My head whipped around in time to see the door to the husbands' room crash open. A tiny hunched figure swathed in acres of black fabric darted out in the opposite direction. The scruff-bag at my window took off after it an an impressive sprint. I only paused long enough to snatch the Glock and spare magazine out of my jockey-box.

Unlike Scruffy, I ran to the room first. I could say I had the noble purpose of seeing if I could help the husbands, but I was really just out of shape with no desire to run after someone who probably had a gun.

The minute I stepped into the room, I almost changed my mind. Someone had used a very heavy gage shotgun on the mid-coitus couple, they'd even been considerate enough to leave the shotgun. Blood spattered the walls and ceiling, pooled on the bed and floor. The face of one and the back of the other's head was missing. I backed into the door frame and bent over with my head between my knees. Vomit would contaminate the crime scene.

Speaking of crime scenes, I flipped out my cell and dialed up an old boyfriend.

“PPD district four Homicide division, Detective Bartock speakin.�

“Hey, 'Tock, it's me.� My voice sounded a little weaker than I liked. I cleared my throat and went on. “I have a problem.�

“Hey, if it isn't Sandy D,� he boomed through the phone. “Lemme guess, another one of your clients shot her skanky husband.�

I would have been outraged, after all it had only happened . . . three times. And only one of them died, but I was still fighting back nausea. “I don't think that's the case, 'Tock,� I said softly. I have two bodies and a murder weapon.�

I heard a crash and a curse from the other end of the line that must have been the cool-under-any-kind-of-pressure police officer dropping his phone. “Tell me you didn't kill them,� he begged when he got the receiver back.

I straightened and scowled at the annoying piece of technology in my hand. “The only person I've ever wanted to kill is you for continually calling me by the name of an annoyingly perky and dead actress. But since we both know it's far more fun to reintroduce you to my left knee, will you take me seriously and get some cops down here?� I yelled into the mouth piece.

“Where are you?� came the subdued reply.

“Twenty-first and National. Mo's Motel, room 8.�

“You carrying your Glock?�

“What do you think?� I snapped.

“I think you'd better keep people out of my crime scene.� I heard him shout some orders to the squad room. “We'll be right down.�

“Hey, Bartock?� My thumb hovered over the End button in anticipation. “One of the bodies is an elf.� I ended the call before he could start swearing.