Ben smiled. "All of them. He liked to cruise."
"No favorite, then? No club he went to more than others?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I could ring up and ask Jilli. She might know."
"Jilli being one of the wolves he mentioned recently?"
"Yeah. She owns and runs a coffee shop near the Blue Moon."
I raised my eyebrows. "Not Chiquita's? They have the best blueberry muffins there. And the coffee's not bad, either."
"So this coffee that I owe you - shall I pay the fee there?"
I considered him for a moment, seeing the amusement and playfulness in his eyes, feeling the answering response low down in my belly. Wondered when - if - I was ever going to get back to the business of being a free and easy wolf.
I didn't know, I really didn't know, and I knew part of that was the fear of getting hurt again. After all, my heart couldn't be broken again if I didn't put it out there. And yet, how much longer could I continue to ignore a side of myself that was a part of my soul?
"It'll probably be easier if I was there to talk to her, so yeah, that would be fine."
He raised an eyebrow, expression a little quizzical. "Why do I get the feeling that you're avoiding the intent behind that question?"
"Because I am." I turned and opened the drawer of the bedside table. Painkillers, books, and condoms. I pulled one out and showed it to Ben. "He fucked humans?"
"Yes. Not all the time, but he liked the challenge of the restraint they represented. He used condoms so there were no unwanted pregnancies."
Because a wolf didn't have to worry about STDs, thanks to our ability to heal all sorts of things during the shapeshift. "A condom is not one hundred percent safe."
"It's better than nothing." He considered me for a moment, then said, "So despite the fact I can smell your interest, you don't want to go out with me?"
I shoved the condom back in the drawer and slammed it shut. "Don't take it personally. I'm not going out with anyone at the moment."
"You're a wolf. That's a physical impossibility."
"Obviously, I'm not talking about the moon heat." I stepped around him and walked to the closet. Opening the doors revealed that Denny's neatness continued here. His clothes were all stacked via type and color.
"And I'm not talking about sex," Ben said. "Just coffee and a chat. Nothing more, nothing less."
I cast him a look over my shoulder, a smile twitching my lips. "I'm not believing that for a moment. You, wolf man, have loving on your mind."
"I can control my mind. And I don't do sex on first dates."
I just about choked on my disbelief. "Yeah. Right. Must have made being a stripper hard, then."
He waved a hand. "Stripping is different. So is sex for the need of it. Outside of work and the moon heat - or maybe even because of them - I prefer to take things slower. Get to know the girl before I fuck her."
Then he was a rare man in wolf ranks. I shut the wardrobe door. "How about we do the coffee-and-chat thing while asking if this Jilli actually knows anything, and see what happens from there?"
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. "Though I have to admit, I am curious about this sudden turn-about in your behavior. Last time we met, you were not so reluctant."
"Last time we met, I wouldn't have acted on my impulses, either. No matter how fierce the desire."
He nodded. "I saw that. I can also see that the reason here is different. It is a puzzle I shall have to solve."
"Try too hard and there's no coffee. I'm not in the mood to be psychoanalyzed right now."
I walked around to the hook. The vampire scent was strongest here, which did suggest he might have been involved in Denny's death. "Why would someone want to kill Denny?"
"I don't know. He wasn't the type to have enemies."
Everyone had enemies, even the nicest of people. My gaze went to the thick metal hook. I just couldn't imagine someone willingly tying a rope around his neck and cutting off his oxygen almost to the point of death just to get his rocks off. But then, I couldn't ever imagine finding joy in being beaten so badly the flesh on my back hung in raw strips. Yet I'd seen that done, and had felt the sheer and utter pleasure the women had gotten from it.
To each his own, I suppose.
But even here, the point where he had died, there was no feeling of energy. No sense of the dead coming back. Denny had obviously moved on to the next level in his life.
I stepped around the dried bloodstain and checked the bedside table on this side, but there was nothing more enlightening than socks. I faced Ben again. "There's really nothing more I can do here at the moment. I'll need to read the police report and talk to his girlfriend before I can decide what to do next."
If there was anything that could be done next.
Ben looked at his watch. "Jilli does the day shift, so I doubt we'll catch her there now."
"Well, great, because I actually do have a job to do. Phone her, and make an appointment for tomorrow." I reached into my purse and took out a business card and a pen. After scrawling my cell phone number onto the back of it, I handed it across. "Ring me when you get a meeting time."
He glanced at the number then shoved it into his back pocket. "Thanks for coming out, Riley. I really do appreciate it."
I waved his thanks away. "As I said, it may yet turn out that there's nothing I can do."
"But you tried. More than the cops are doing, I fear."
There was no point in answering, simply because he was right. The cops wouldn't be chasing a BDSM session gone wrong as hard as they would a straight-out murder. It was a simple fact of policing life that priorities had to be given.
We left the apartment and rattled down the stairs. A couple of older men were near Ben's bike, one of them kneeling, as if inspecting the internals. I smiled. "You've got fans. Or your bike has."
"Beautiful bikes always get admirers. It's par for the course." He shrugged. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"You will." I half-waved a good-bye, briefly watching - and enjoying - the sight of him sauntering toward the two men, then climbed into my car and drove off.
As I headed back into the traffic, I grabbed my phone and rang Kade.
"Hey, horse man," I said, when he answered. "What's happening out your way?"
"Nothing of interest at Gerard's place. I'm going back to the Directorate to hassle Cole for his initial report. There might be something helpful in there."
Hassling Cole didn't work. I'd tried it. "So no sign of a cat, real or shifter, at Gerard's?"
"Not a hair." He paused, and in the background, the music changed from dance to rock. "What are you doing?"
"The secretary told me who he was dating last night. I'm heading over to talk to her now."
"You want me along?"
"No, I'll be all right. I'll meet you back at the Directorate. Have a coffee ready for me. The real stuff, not that black muck we have in the machine."
"Your wish is my command," he said, voice deepening and oh so sexy.
I snorted. "Not going to work, my friend."
He laughed. "I can but try. See you soon."
I hung up and headed on. The traffic was so bad it took me another twenty minutes to get back to Alana Burns's apartment. Pressing the buzzer once again had little effect and there was no security guard handily sitting inside the small foyer to harass.
I stepped back and studied the balconies. There was a small concrete wall that separated the front stairs from the drive that led into the underground parking lot, but even if I stood on that, it was still a hell of a jump to the first balcony.
But maybe it wasn't so far for an inexperienced seagull to fly.
Excitement and doubt fluttered through me. Flying from a drop was a whole lot different than flying upward, but I had nothing to lose by trying. Nothing except more bruises.
I grabbed my cell and my badge out of my purse, shoved them into my pocket, then dropped the bag behind a potted bush, well out of sight. Then I clambered onto the wall and called to the magic in my soul. It swept through me, changing muscles and bone and body, until I was once again that dreaded seagull. I paddled along the wall a little bit, then looked up at the balcony.
It looked like a long, long way.
I could do this. It was just a matter of concentration. I adjusted my tail feathers and raised my wings, beating them as fast as I could to get the lift I needed. Down, back, up, down, back, up. And suddenly, I was going up, cutting through the air. Flying.
I felt like cheering. I concentrated on not falling instead.
I fluttered up and over the railing, then spread my tail feathers to act as a brake. But the change was too sudden, and I dropped too quickly, splattering chest-first against the concrete.
"Ow," I muttered, even though it came out little more than a harsh squawk. I rolled onto my back and shifted to human form. My chest still hurt. More bruises, no doubt.
Even so, I couldn't help a silly grin. I'd flown. Even if my landings needed more work, I'd actually flown rather than simply making a guided fall. Maybe this whole flying gig wasn't as bad as previously thought.
I climbed to my feet. As usual, my jeans had made it through the shift just fine, but my shirt had been shredded. They were usually pretty useless after a shift to wolf, but the destruction here was even worse.
Maybe it had something to do with trying to squash everything into a smaller form. I didn't know, but maybe Jack or Henry would.
I pulled off the now-useless remnants of my bra and shoved it into my back pocket, then tied the torn edges of my shirt together. I wasn't going anywhere except back to the Directorate once I finished here, so the state of my clothing didn't really matter. Now I just had to get into the apartment.
I walked toward the glass sliding door, and that's when it hit.
The smell of death.
A death that was old and as rotten as hell.
Chapter 3
If the smell was this bad out here, I'd hate to think what it was like in the apartment.
Unfortunately, it was my job to find out.
I peered through the glass and tried not to breathe too deeply. The only thing I could see in the small living area was dusty furniture and yellowing newspapers sitting on the coffee table - both indicators that someone hadn't been living in this apartment for quite a while.
So either Alana was no longer living here - and if she wasn't, why had she answered Rosy's phone call yesterday? - or she was here, and in a very bad way.
Which I guess went with what the smell was suggesting.
It also suggested that maybe it wasn't Alana who'd dated our dead politician.
I blew out a breath, then gripped the handle of the sliding door and pulled back with all my might. I had the strength of both a werewolf and a vampire behind me, and the little metal clip holding the sliding door closed didn't stand a chance. The door crashed back with enough noise to wake the dead, and the force of it sent a shudder recoiling up my arm.
But it was nothing compared to the smell that assaulted my senses. My stomach rose in a rush and I gagged. The stench was vile.
Whoever - whatever - was dead in this apartment had been that way for some time. Although the air rushing out of the apartment was hot - the heating had obviously been left on high, so maybe that had helped accelerate the decomposition of whatever it was lying inside.
I stepped back until I was breathing fresh air again, then took a deep breath and dashed inside. It was only ever going to be a quick look. I couldn't hold my breath longer than a minute or so.
I ran into the first room off the living room. It turned out to be a spotless kitchen. No junk in the fridge, no unwashed dishes, no trash in the basket. Nothing that would account for the smell. The next room was a bathroom, and once again it was spotless.
The third room...
That's where I found her, lying half-dressed on the bed with one arm still in the sleeve of a sweater - as if whoever had killed her had caught her in the middle of either taking it off or putting it on. She only wore panties on the bottom half, and her body was heavy and bloated and...horrible.
Bile burned up my throat, and I raced outside, gulping in fresh air and trying not to vomit. God, unpleasant didn't even begin to describe that experience.
It wasn't like I hadn't smelled death before. I had. Hell, I was a wolf, and the wild part of me actually enjoyed rolling in stuff that would make my human half scream in revulsion. But I'd never smelled a death that old before. Or that deep into decay.
I shuddered, then got out my phone and rang Jack.
"Parnell here," he said, voice neutral. The tone he reserved for official speaking moments like press conferences. Given who our dead man was, it was an even-money bet that was exactly where he was. "What can I do for you?"
"Jack, it's Riley. I'm over at the apartment of Alana Burns, the woman Gerard James supposedly went out with last night. Only she's dead, and has been that way for at least a week, if the putrefaction is anything to go by."
"Hang on a sec." A muffled conversation came down the phone line, then footsteps. "Okay, we'll have to make this fast. I've got a room full of reporters waiting for an update. What's this about a dead woman?"
"Her name is Alana Burns - if it is her body inside the apartment. According to the secretary, Gerard James went out with her last night."
"Or someone pretending to be her."
Exactly. "James's secretary rang Alana to confirm the afternoon of the date. She mentioned Alana being in a snit, so she definitely talked to someone. And it very definitely wasn't the woman dead in the apartment."
