Series of Death, Draft 02, CH 06 (Patreon)

The neighborhood Trembor walked through, looking for the address the caller had given him, was lower middling, from what he could see. Well trimmed yards with older cars, the people he did see were a mix of older prey and predators, parents, probably, staying with a younger generation for protection.

He was still curious why the person who’d found the body had called him directly, instead of giving the location through the usual call-in number. He’d sounded older, so he could be one of those people who didn’t like automated system, He’d sounded scared, and when Trembor asked for his connection to the body had suddenly disconnected. Older and causing an accidental death was rare, but it would explain the situation.

The house was better looking; further back from the street than the others. The siding a more vibrant green, recently repainted. One of the more successful people in the area. The house was larger and reminded him of the one he and Marl—

He growled to himself. Why did everything remind him of the wolf? He was done with him.

He turned onto the path leading to the house and stilled. A black wolf in a light brown suit stood by the door, waiting. The wolf pressed the buzzer as Trembor watched. The wind shifted and brought him the scent.

His hackles rose, and he stomped to the house.

“What are you doing here?” He demanded.

Marlot spun, surprised, then looking guilty. “Trem!” His expression brightened. “It’s so good to see you. What are you doing here?”

“Drop the act,” Trembor snapped. “This is my territory and you know it.”

The wolf looked around, made a show of seeming surprised. “It is? Sorry, I was more focussed on finding the house than—”

“What are you doing here?” Trembor growled, fighting against getting closer, getting more of the wolf’s scent. Had he arranged this? How many times had Gorrek ‘accidentally’ crossed Trembor’s path after that last hospital stay? Looking just as surprised, wanting to catch up; trying to convince him to come back home with him? Had the wolf gotten some old male to call? Was that why he’d sounded nervous?

“The Revenue Department system glitched, again,” Marlot said, sounding so put upon it had to be an act. “I got mailed this male’s lost ID card. I’m starting to wonder if they’re doing it on purpose.”

“Right, that again, how convenient.” Marlot couldn’t have set this up this far ahead, could he? Was the whole lost card thing just in case this happened? Trembor getting wise to his ploy and then having excuses to be at the same place? No, Marlot was smart, but he wasn’t that conniving.

The wolf took a card out and showed it to him; as if to justify his presence. The picture of a coyote visible in the corner. “I’m no longer complaining about it.” He said, all smiles. “How are you doing? How are the others; are the cubs as much of a terror as they were the last time I was there?”

“My family is none of your business,” Trembor growled. Marlot laughed at a joke Atilen made. The sound, in the context of his family so good as he’d trying for so long to convince Marlot to come to a dinner.

“Damn it, Trem, I’m trying to—”

“I’m working!” He snapped. “And if I wanted to talk to you, I’d call. Now, did you set up this whole thing? The old man who called. Is there even a body here?”

“What?” the wolf had the audacity of looking affronted. “I’d never do that, you know me better than—”

Trembor snorted. “Sure, you’d love for me to thinking that, wouldn’t you?” He pushed the wolf aside and banged on the door. Now leave, I have work to do.”

“No one’s answering,” the wolf said. “The car in the parking by the road is Arlant Shines’ so he should be home.”

“How do you even know his name?” Trembor demanded, and the wolf raised the card still in his hand, with the name printed on it. Right, of course, he knew the name. The wind shifted again and the wolf’s scent filled his nose, making it more difficult to think of anything other than burying his muzzle in his neck. Why didn’t the damned wolf keep his distance?

He smelled good, Trembor noted. And You didn’t leave me any choice. Resounded in his head. He couldn’t tell which one of them said it this time, but it helped him remember the wolf wasn’t here for anything good.

He forced himself to see Gorrek instead of the wolf. The lion was easier to hate.

“How do you know which car’s his? You know what,” he immediately added, “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Same with how you find out where he lives. There are laws against what you did to find those out.” He banged on the door again, harder. “Mister Shines?” he called.

No sounds came from the other side of the door.

“I can unlock the door for you,” the wolf offered as Trembor looked it over. An older model, the keypad worn to the point the numbers weren’t legible on five of the keys. It would make it easier for anyone to break in. Trembor stepped back and kicked the lock; the wolf barely pulling his hand away as he’d reached for the lock.

“What the fuck, Trem? You could have hit me.”

“Then you should leave,” Trembor replied. “You’re intruding in my territory.” Caught the door as it bounced back and stepped into the house.

He stood in the kitchen; counters, scoffing on the floor where the preparation table went when in use. Dirty dished in the sink. To the right was the living room; entertainment center with a large screen, bookcase with books and pictures on them, two coyotes, male and female, similar age. Recliner with a plate with dried blood and scraps of meats. He stepped to it and sniffed. Cooler burn, less than a day old; probably less than twelve.

The hall separating the two rooms led to a washroom on the left and a large bedroom on the right, facing it. The bed was unmade, clothing strewed on the floor. A glass with the remnant of blood and alcohol on the bedside table. Whoever this Mister Shines was, neat wasn’t it.

The second room on the left was an office, and where Mister Shines lay on the floor, head bend at an unnatural angle. Broken neck would be the cause of death, he guessed. He breathed in from the doorway. Multiple scents, two present in the rest of the house, one more stale than the other and with hints of a female in it. The one in the pictures? Another scent was recent, filled with adrenaline, not fear, excitement? Anger? He couldn’t tell anything else.

He stepped in. The desk had been moved, leaving scratches on the floor. The desk chair overturned. The computer was on the floor, but intact. Papers were all over the place. No blood anywhere. It was rare that a fight with this clear violence didn’t leave blood.

He crouched next to the body and examined it. Arlant Shines was a muscular coyote under the loose shirt; his left leg and right arm were broken. His open eyes were bloodshot. He’d been suffocated before the neck was broken. Had the goal been to render him unconscious and things had gotten out of hand?

“At least he didn’t make the killer’s job easy,” someone said, and Trembor stood snarling at an intruder in his territory. The wolf tilted an ear quizzically.

“What are you still doing here?” he demanded, hating himself for having forgotten he was there. “If you set on foot in this room I’m having you arrested for interference, is that clear?”

“Hey, I didn’t do this!” the wolf protested. “When I kill someone, I pay for them.”

Trembor knew that, but he wanted an excuse to throw the wolf in a cage and forget he existed. “I find one strand of your fur in here and you a suspect, at a minimum. If you don’t want to have to deal with that, get off my territory.”

The cursed wolf didn’t move. He didn’t even have the decency of being offended. “Trem, when you’re done here, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He turned back to the body and put gloves on.

“You walk out on me for no reason and you won’t—”

“No reason?” Trembor snapped, pulling his hand away from the coyote’s arm. “Oh, right. I’m the one at fault here. How could I ever forget that? Marlot Blackclaw never does anything wrong, never breaks a law, never hacks his way into other people’s pads.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” the wolf demanded. “I’m a tech-head, you love that about me.”

Trembor glared at the wolf over his shoulder. “No, I don’t. You have no respect for law or order. No respect for other people, the only thing that matters to you is getting your own way. Now get the fuck out of my crime scene.”

“Trem,” the wolf said, having the gall to sound hurt.

Trembor took his pad out. “I’m calling in enforcers to secure the scene.” He should have done that from the start, but the wolf had distracted him. “If you’re still here by the time I’m connected, I’m telling them you’re a suspect.” Eyes on the wolf, he entered the number and put the pad to his ear. The wolf looked like he’d protest, but as he was connected, he turned and left.

“Enforcer Dispatch,” a male Trembor recognized said.

“Hartel?”

The reply took a few seconds. “Trembor? Now that’s a voice I never thought I’d hear again. How are you doing? What are you doing calling us directly, did you come to your senses and return within the fold? Please say yes, I have money riding on this.”

There was a betting pool on if he’d return to the enforcers? “I’m working, and calling dispatch helped me make a point to someone bothering me. I have a scene I need secured.” He gave the coyote address. “I’m still walking through it and I’ve yet to contact my examiner. You know Jaxca?”

Red frog, right?” Hartel said, typing away. “Poisonous, I heard of him.”

“Let the officers know he’s allowed in.” He disconnected and looked at the empty doorway. He wanted to go after the wolf. To sit down and listen to his explanations. They’d make sense; be perfectly reasoned. He suspected that Marlot wouldn’t even make Trembor the culprit. They would be some innocent misunderstanding.

It would be a lie.

He ground his teeth and looked at the body.

Marlot would say anything to get Trembor back in a position he could be controlled.

“I have the worse luck in relationships,” he told the dead coyote, “you know that? I’m guessing you and that female in the picture didn’t have to go through what my two loves put me through.”

He called Jaxca, then began the examination that would tell him what had happened in this room, and hopefully why. Resolving these cases was always so much easier when he knew why the death had occurred and why the body had been left to rot.

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