Grave Visions (Alex Craft, #4)(37)
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The address Jenson had given me was a high-end hotel in one of the ritzy areas of town. Roy and Icelynne had walked through—literally—my front door right before I’d left, so they’d decided to accompany me to the scene. Roy because he fancied himself a PI and Icelynne, well, I think she just didn’t know what else to do with herself. At least she wasn’t crying today. Of course, with her recent trauma, taking her to a crime scene probably wasn’t the best thing, but she was an adult and it wasn’t as if I could stop her. So, the two ghosts sat in the backseat of my car, making me feel like a chauffeur to the dead.
It took me exactly forty-two minutes from the time I disconnected with Jenson to reach the hotel. I anticipated a chaotic scene; after all, Jenson had said more than one division of law enforcement was on the scene and that never led to happy times. What I didn’t expect was for both agencies to be milling about the parking lot. The officers in their blue uniforms were easy to identify, but even the plainclothes detectives were easy to distinguish from the FIB agents—most of the agents looked a little too pressed and polished. Likely because little things like weather and environment didn’t affect their perfect glamour while the wind heralding an oncoming storm whipped at the detectives’ hair and clothing.
The two groups didn’t mingle.
Parking the car in the back of the lot, I walked toward the gathered detectives. Three men broke off from the others. The wind-bedraggled shapes of John and Jenson headed over from among the sea of officer blue and Falin walked toward me from the FIB side. We met just beyond the farthest cop car.
“Hiya,” I said, because I didn’t know the protocol. I assumed since Jenson had mentioned the coroner was ready to release the body that they would roll the gurneys out to the parking lot. It was a little public for my comfort, but that wouldn’t affect my ability to perform the ritual. If an ambulance had been on scene that would have been preferable than out in the open, but I didn’t spot one.
“Alex.” John nodded in greeting. It was far from cold, but considering he’d been a father figure for most of my adult life, the recent distance between us stung. I nodded back, trying not to frown. If John was on the scene, why had Jenson called me. Because John didn’t approve of hiring me?
It was a real possibility. Someone higher up than John must have ordered me to be brought in, and he didn’t look happy about it. Or maybe the scene had been that bad. Whichever the case, his mustache was pulled down hard in a frown.
“You ready to go up?” he asked, nodding to the hotel.
I blinked. “You mean, to the murder scene? You’re not bringing the bodies down here?”
“What’s wrong, Craft? Can’t handle getting your hands dirty?” Jenson’s voice was all sneer, ugly and mean. I frowned at him. His eyes were pinched tight and there was a little something at the corner of his mouth. Jenson didn’t handle crime scenes well, and I was guessing he’d puked, which explained why he was being extra nasty today. He got like that sometimes. It also meant this was going to be bad, very bad.
“So what’s the story?” I asked as John led us toward the building. Falin fell in at my side, but Jenson trailed behind. I guessed he didn’t want to go back to the scene. Roy and Icelynne brought up the rear, mostly because the ghost-fae dragged behind. Otherwise, Roy likely would have been the first in the building.
“It’s a proper mystery. Two local high school students checked in after a fall dance,” John said, and then paused as I signed in with the officer maintaining the perimeter. Once the officer had recorded my name and verified my ID, John continued. “The doors are operated with a swipe card, so we have a record of every time the door opened. The kids swiped in at eleven twenty-three last night. Door wasn’t opened again until housekeeping came by at nine seventeen this morning. What she found . . . Well, you’ll see. The important thing is that she saw no one else in the room when she walked in. Video of the hall confirms that no one entered or exited the room between the kids entering and the maid’s arrival.” He stopped in front of a door and pulled out a swipe key. “I should warn you—it’s bad.”
I nodded but put up a hand before John could use the key card on the door. “Who exactly is hiring me here?” I asked, looking from first John and then to Falin.
The two men looked at each other. Falin cocked an eyebrow, it was a jaunty expression, and more than a little challenging. John scowled.
“Currently, NCPD is picking up the tab.” He pulled a folded stack of papers from his jacket pocket and passed them to me. Then his gaze cut to Falin again, his next words directed at him instead of me. “We will, of course, bill half of the ritual to the FIB if we hand over the case.”
Falin shrugged. A slightly pink tinge crept over John’s expanding bald spot, and he turned back to the door. He shoved the key card into the lock a little too hard, jerking it back fast. The light flashed red. It didn’t unlock. He cursed under his breath and tried twice more before the door beeped, flashed green, and unlocked.
As he fought with the lock, I gave the paperwork a cursory scan. I’d been on retainer for the police for years, so most of the paperwork was the boilerplate form we’d established when we’d initially worked out the terms of my retainership. The finer details had been hastily added with a ballpoint pen, but considering the circumstance, that didn’t surprise me. Everything looked to be in order, so I signed both copies and handed one back to John.