Animal Behavior and Other Tales of Lycanthropy by Keith Gouveia

Author:Keith Gouveia [Gouveia, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Coscom Entertainment
Published: 0101-01-01T06:00:00+00:00

“You passed my partner by the elevators downstairs.”

“Oh, the one keeping the press at bay?”

“Yes. The hotel manager asked us to keep it as quiet as possible until we’ve got a handle on exactly what went down. Guess he’s afraid it’ll hurt his business in these hard economic times.”

Murphy stepped into the room. “Of course he does. Tourism’s down and people have their pick. Some of the finest hotels in Florida have practically given away rooms. However, the manager has no say on what we tell the press. Got it?”

“Yes. You want me to address them?”

“Not just yet. I’ll entertain the manager so long as it suits me,” Murphy answered and his train of thought derailed. It smells like a drug deal gone bad. His sensitive nose picked up a faint formaldehyde aroma. Crack cocaine, maybe. “You and your partner were the first on the scene?”

“Yes, sir.”

“May I have your names?”

“Of course. Name’s Johnson and my partner is Talbot.”

“Any signs of drugs or money?”

“No, sir.”

“What about forced entry?”

“No, sir.”

Victim must have known his attacker then, or was expecting him. “What about witnesses?”

“None, sir. When back-up came we covered the floor and neighboring rooms to the stairwell below.”

“Who called it in?”

“The maid, Robin Dearman. We have her in the adjoining room waiting to speak with you.”

“Excellent work. How far into the room did she make it?”

“As you can see” —the officer pointed to the two bodies sprawled out on the floor just several feet away from them— “she didn’t have to go in too far to realize what had transpired.”

“Anyone else been in the room?”

“No, sir. The scene’s ready for you to do your thing.”

“Coroner?”

“On his way.”

“Good work, officer. I’ll take it from here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Murphy withdrew a pair of surgical gloves and slapped them on. Then, taking his notepad out of his blazer pocket, he jotted down the time he arrived, the officers’ names, and ID number. “Officer Johnson!”

“Sir?” the man said, still standing in the doorway.

“I need Talbot’s ID number for my notes.”

“Eleven-forty, sir.”

“Thank you. I need you to document who’s here, when they arrived, what they did, and when they left.”

“You can count on me, sir.”

Murphy returned his attention to the notepad, quickly scribbling every word the officer had said, then pulled his camera up to position. He focused on the two bodies and took shots of both together in the same frame and individually; knife wounds killed both men and there seemed to be no signs of a struggle, which only reinforced Murphy’s suspicion.

From what he had gathered from the hotel manager before entering the building, the victim was Calvin Davis, a young black entrepreneur in town for the marketing conference, but Murphy’s instincts told him that was just a front for his drug ring. Though there were no physical traces of product, Murphy’s nose never lied.

And if the product was here, then there was a second perp.

It wasn’t unheard of for a drug deal to go south. Usually it was someone new to the game, someone with dreams of grandeur, believing they could score the dope without paying for it.

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