Page 3

Chapter 2

A dler was tired, and he wanted coffee. Or a stiff drink. Both, if he had his way. Walking through a crime scene to pick out those things that didn’t belong without letting his emotions cloud his judgment did that to him sometimes, especially with crimes as brutal as this one.

Forgotten trash littered the alley outside the brownstone to which they had been called after the first responders had surveyed the scene upstairs, and stains of dubious provenance marked the building walls. Weeds had cracked the concrete and unfolded their leaves in search for light. The smell of vinegar and lemons hung heavy in the air, overpowering the subtler scents Adler might have otherwise picked out easily.

The narrow alley between two buildings was guarded on either side by police. It looked as if the suspect had left through the building’s heavy side door, spray-painted their graffito, then left.

Next to Adler, Bachmann, his junior partner, scribbled in her notebook. “ ‘The Fae, the Vamps, the Wolves are the monsters that will not be blamed for nothing .’ What do you think that’s supposed to mean?”

Adler hummed. “It’s a piece of Jack the Ripper veneration. Except Jack blamed only the fae.”

He watched Bachmann take notes, and he had to suppress the urge to look over her shoulder while she did it. She was a good officer and up for promotion in a little over a year, though Adler had tried to make that happen sooner. Her real knack was talking to survivors, and in Adler’s mind, any police force needed more people like Bachmann.

“Do you want me to go door to door with the others now, sir?” she asked.

Adler shook his head. “No, I think they got that covered. Why don’t you head inside, look the crime scene over again, and then later you can let me know what you think. What you would do if this were your case to oversee. Just don’t get in the way of the forensics people, please. I swear they have been more grumpy than normal recently.”

Bachmann gave him an eager smile. “Thank you, Detective Adler. I really appreciate it.” She bobbed her head and went back into the house, then stopped and turned. “Do you get a scent of anyone, by the way?”

Adler grinned at her. “Good question. But no. I’m getting very strong citrus and vinegar notes. What does that tell you?”

“That our suspect did their best to avoid werewolf noses. Which suggests they have been doing some research on werewolves, which in turn would indicate this is a hate crime.”

Adler shrugged. “Too early to say that quite yet. Don’t forget, a police force as large as New Amsterdam’s will have at least one werewolf. That’s just statistics. It makes the use of vinegar more of a forensic counter measure than an invisible signature sent to all werewolves in the vicinity. Just because our suspect planned for a wolf on the force does not make it a hate crime. Don’t make assumptions you cannot back up with facts.”

They both glanced at the graffito.

“Or they might be trying to cover the real motive with the veneer of a hate crime,” Bachmann said. She tapped her notepad with the back of her pen. “Then again, the neighbor I talked to mentioned how unfair it was that our victim had to take care of her grandfather because he married a fae who died young. The way she said it sounded a bit prejudiced to me, but it would make our victim part fae.”

Adler shrugged. “Mind open, always.” At the same time, the vinegar and that piece of information combined to something not unlike dread in his gut.

Bachmann nodded, then went to the room on the first floor that looked all too familiar from old black and white textbook photographs for Adler’s taste. Exactly no one needs a copycat crime of Jack the Ripper .

Adler pulled off his right nitrile glove and fished for his phone, went through his contacts until he found what he wanted, hesitated, then called.

Maxim picked up after a single ring. “Adler! You are serendipity incarnate. I have acquired a broadsword.”

“Uhm. Say what now?”

“I’m getting into video gaming, and part of this, as I am being taught, is that you must level up so that you can wield the broadsword. It is quite enjoyable, but the up-leveling and the broadswording! I have managed two perfect fights so far, although I have to inform you that some of those moves are impossible given the laws of physics are such as they are, even for a vampire like myself.” The vampire hunter sounded damn chipper about whatever he was doing.

Adler began pacing. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your afternoon, but—”

“Oh, I’m just waiting on a corpse.”

Adler spun in that alley that smelled of pickles and not much more. “What’s that?”

“It’s still not done, although it’s been in the oven for hours by now. Say, Adler, dear, how was your weekend?”

“My weekend?” Adler rubbed a palm across his chin, noticed the stubble through his glove, bared his teeth at the glove he had forgotten to take off, then put his hand back down to hang limply at his side. “My weekend was fine. I had a shift, but it wasn’t busy.”

Maxim heaved a sigh, and it sounded like he was breathing directly into the microphone too. “This level is proving to be extremely difficult, Adler.”

Adler frowned, but he’d long since gotten used to treating Maxim like a capricious alpha. And while Adler would never say this to his or any alpha’s face, their main purpose in life seemed to be needing assistance and support from their pack members.

“Okay. Anything I can do to help?”

Maxim snorted. “Oh, now you want to be of help. Did it ever occur to you that Heath and I had a bet going? Why did you call?”

Adler cleared his throat and ignored the thing about the bet, which sounded like one of those non-sequiturs annoyed alphas would use to bait one into lengthy conversations. “Right. Murder.”

“You say the most unattractive things, Adler. I already had one this day and need no other. Isn’t there another you could bother?”

Adler forced the exasperation from his voice. “It’s a possible hate crime, so I have to involve you, and I like sooner rather than later.”

Silence, then, “Well, that just dragged the day into the gutter. How would you feel about dropping by the Forum so we can discuss it?”

Adler felt his brows creep up his forehead. “What are you doing at the Forum? You once called it ‘a harpies’ lair of bureaucracy.’ You said the forms ought to be killed with fire.”

“And I stand by that statement,” Maxim said, the grin in his voice unmistakable. “But I happen to be here. Find me at Dr. Morris’s office.”

That made Adler’s heart skip a beat and his throat go dry as yesterday’s bread.

He remembered the vampire, Dr. Morris, oh so kissable and soft-looking, especially since most vampires seemed to be made of edges sharpened by their age. But somehow, Adler had moved too fast on the doctor, hadn’t even really asked if Dr. Gordon Morris wanted to be kissed, and then, despite their knees touching and all the smiling they had done together, despite all the little touches, the vampire had pulled back, had left, and that had been that. Adler’s head sagged, and he sucked vinegared air into his lungs.

“Uhm, sure. I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“Wonderful. Bye now.” Maxim hung up, and Adler stared at the graffito and wondered at the strangeness of the day.

Facing a crime scene is one thing, but I’ve never had to face a hot doctor who ran away from me because I moved too fast .

Adler, his head held low, trudged toward his car. He was his alpha’s second and no coward. He would face the doctor. And if he could steal a minute of the pretty vampire’s time, he’d apologize.