He stripped off one blood-smeared glove, removed the ID, then laid the wallet beside the remains before he slipped the ID into his shirt pocket. Having stripped off the other glove, he dropped the gloves in the empty parking space, to be collected with whatever debris the CIU team would create.
He fetched the two manila envelopes from the passenger seat of his cruiser and brought them into the station—two sets of the photos he’d taken last night at The Jumble and Ames Funeral Home. One set would go to Bristol with Kipp. The other would stay here.
He opened one envelope and pulled out one of the prints of the head. Then he set Fewks’s photo ID next to the headshot—and swore with quiet savagery before slipping the ID back into his shirt pocket and going outside to stand guard until Kipp arrived.
Just a ballsy college boy who, like every boy that age, believed he could survive anything and everything, and a prank would have no consequences.
Then he thought about the academics from various universities and colleges around the Finger Lakes who had gathered at The Jumble last night and were staying at the Mill Creek Cabins. And he thought about the Elementals who were guarding the gravel road, preventing anyone from driving away. And he thought about the car keys he’d found next to his cabin’s front door when he got home last night.
And he thought about how he and Ilya had talked about police procedure while something Ilya didn’t recognize had watched them from the dark.
Not a taunt or a threat. Someone had left evidence where he would find it.
Grimshaw recognized Julian’s car and gave his friend a nod as the car slowed, then turned into the narrow driveway that led to the parking area behind Lettuce Reed. A minute later, Julian and Natasha Sanguinati were standing next to him.
“Gods,” Julian said softly.
“Maybe we can rig a tarp or block the space with cars until the CIU team arrives,” Grimshaw said. “We’ve got too many tourists in town, and we need to keep people from seeing this.”
“Ah,” Natasha said at the same time Grimshaw spotted the black luxury sedan heading toward them.
Then a sudden gust of wind lifted Natasha’s hair—and a dense fog obscured the parking space. Just that space.
“Air says you owe Fog a carrot,” Natasha said before she stepped away from them to meet Ilya as he got out of the car.
“I have a couple of carrots at the bookstore,” Julian said. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
Julian returned with a small bowl of carrot chunks. Seconds after that, a chubby, misty gray pony with clompy feet stood next to Grimshaw, clearly expecting his payment. Grimshaw fed him the carrot chunks, thanked Fog for his assistance, and watched the pony wander down Main Street, covering other parking spaces—and wondered how the pony had learned to fog between the lines.
Grimshaw looked at Ilya and tipped his head before walking into the station. When Ilya followed, Grimshaw went to the supply room, opened a drawer in a filing cabinet, and returned with the game board and all the extra pieces of the altered Murder game.
“When Osgood comes in, I’ll go over to the store,” he said, handing the game to Ilya. “I’d like to be there before you start playing, but there’s no reason not to start setting up.”
He hesitated, sure that the village’s human government wouldn’t be happy about his including the Sanguinati in the investigation of a crime. But this crime was connected with humans as well as the terra indigene, and he needed all the help he could get.
Besides, his paycheck might come out of the village’s budget, but Ilya was the person who had hired him.
“I printed out all the photos I took last night. When Doc Wallace and I unwrapped that bundle of feathers, we found a head.”
Ilya stiffened. “One of the terra indigene?”
He removed Fewks’s photo ID from his pocket and held it out. “Not one of your people. He’s one of mine.”
CHAPTER 15
Vicki
Thaisday, Novembros 1
Soon after Julian and Natasha drove off to meet Grimshaw and Ilya in Sproing, I heard the outer porch door open. Thinking it was the guests in the lake cabins coming for breakfast, I didn’t look up from making butter curls and berry balls before I said, “Come on in. The coffee is fresh and hot, and there’s . . .”
In hindsight, it was more than foolish to invite anyone in without knowing whom I was inviting in, although I hadn’t met anything in The Jumble that needed an invitation to enter a building. Having locked doors and windows—or walls or a roof—wasn’t much of a deterrent to something big enough that it could huff and puff and blow your house down.
I looked up and stared at four Sanguinati youngsters, all neatly dressed in black.
“Good morning,” the gorgeous teenage girl said. “I am Kira. This is Lara.”
The younger girl gave me a full-fanged smile and seemed delighted to be standing in my kitchen.
I really hoped she wasn’t hungry.
“I am Viktor,” the next generation’s Mr. Yummy said. “And this is Karol.”
Karol was the other Sanguinati male I’d seen last night. He seemed to be in that age bracket of young teen who wanted to look and act mature, especially around the gorgeous girl, but also wanted to run off and explore every room in the main house. I had a pretty good idea how the Cornleys would react if they suddenly found a teenage boy standing next to their bed asking questions about their morning aerobics.
“Does Ilya know you’re here?” I asked. “Or Natasha?”
None of them had a poker face.
“They didn’t say we couldn’t come and visit,” Kira said.
A chill ran down my spine as I thought about the partially eaten donkey that had been found too close to the main house, and the weirdness that had spooked the Crows last night. The Crowgard were noticeably absent this morning, but the Hawks were outside keeping an eye on things—including my potentially delicious guests.
I heard laughter and voices, male and female, heading toward the house. Jenna McKay was doing the donkey-cart tour with Bobcat this morning—assuming there was another donkey in The Jumble’s small herd that was tame enough to pull the cart. Conan was confident that the guests would be safe, but Cougar would follow them. Just in case.
Immediate problem first. “How did you reach The Jumble?”
“We crossed the lake in our smoke form,” Lara said, sounding pleased with herself.
“Does anyone know you’ve come to visit?”
Really, there wasn’t a poker face in the bunch.
“You want us to leave?” Kira asked, clearly disappointed by my unenthusiastic reception.