Hexed Hit_An Urban Fantasy Mystery by Ann Denton

Author:Ann Denton [Denton, Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Le Rue Publishing
Published: 2019-07-11T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I talk with the nurses in the ER, who refuse to give me any information until Flowers shows up and flashes his pretty badge and smile at them.

Then they drop the deets.

Apparently, the hippo’s name is Frank Fortinbraugh. I manage not to slap my palm against my forehead, but just barely. I stare at the ceiling for a second and ask, “Why?” as the nurses stare at me. They have no idea how much the letter “f” is starting to haunt me.

I avoid eye contact with Flowers as he continues asking questions of the nurses.

“How’d the patient end up so burnt?”

“Just sun exposure,” the nurse shrugs.

But just then, Luke’s friend George walks out of a nearby patient room, pulling off blue plastic gloves. He sees me with Flowers and raises his eyebrows. “Lyon?”

“George, this is my boss. Officer Diego Flores,” I gesture at Flowers.

The two men shake hands.

I explain why we’re stalking the good doctor. “I couldn’t help overhearing your nurse as you walked away, sir, and I think we may need to speak with your patient.”

George’s eyebrows lift. “Is it something that can wait? He’s in rough shape. We had to put him on a couple heavy animal tranquilizers. His hippo was pretty reluctant to shift.”

Flowers shakes his head. “I wish we could wait, but he’s wanted for questioning in connection with an open case. Can you tell me exactly what happened to him?”

George shakes his head sadly. “I’ve seen it once or twice before. Someone drained his blood sweat. So, when the sun rose, he had no protection.”

I pipe up, “Blood sweat? Isn’t that the stuff you gave Luke?”

George nods. “Yup. Some hippo shifters donate it and wizard labs spell it to enhance it. But Frank doesn’t remember donating. I asked. Stuff goes for a pretty penny, so some hippos give more than they should. There’s a decent black market for it with the vamps.”

I make eye contact with Flowers and then ask the doc, “But, I thought blood sweat was pink.”

“It only turns pink when it’s exposed to sunlight. Before that, it’s just clear, kind of like sweat.”

“Or maybe like urine?” I ask.

George makes a disgusted face. “I suppose.”

“Those jars?” I turn to Flowers and raise my eyebrows. “At the shack?”

Flowers nods his head and tells me, “Lyon, call the lab. Ask them about … see… did they test those jars? Maybe they weren’t urine. I’ll start questioning … the patient.” Flowers gets visibly more upset each time he realizes he has to rephrase to avoid the ‘forbidden’ letter.

George reaches out and holds onto Flowers’ arm. “You should probably know, he still had trace amounts of Nappies in his system when he came in. He’s slipped back into baby talk a couple times. That can happen with long-term addicts. I’m not sure how good he’ll do with the questioning.”

Their voices fade as I walk down the hall to make the call to the ME’s office.

Zoe answers the phone herself and tells me that they don’t even have the urine jars at the lab.

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