Fiona Frost: Order of the Black Moon (16 page)

After gasping for air, I dropped
my
phone on the floorboard,
head
dropped
in
to my
hands
. I launched a
full-blown
, hysterical
sobbing
session
.
The agent
pulled
into the nearest parking lot
, parking the ca
r.

“Fiona, are you
alright
?
Can I get you something?
Here,”
Agent Bronson said
, pulling
a handkerchief from the inside of his coat
.
He leaned
down
to the floorboard
to pick up my phone.

“Thanks, Agent Bronson,” I sniveled,
gasping
as
I wiped
the tears from my cheeks.
“My dog
died,
”
I said, sadness
incapacitating my emotions
with
a
crippling
intensity.

He
stared at me for a cold minute
, his eyes abruptly focused
, the murky rain accentuating his somber face.

“I’m so sorry, Fiona.
I lost my dog two days ago.
I know exactly how you feel,” he sa
id, rubbing me on the shoulder, placing my phone
on
my lap.

Hearing the news about Luminal
hurt me so
badly;
I didn’t think I could pull together.
This was the most powerful, painful emotion I had ever been subjected to, and I was at a loss at how to handle it.
I never
said
goodbye to him.

After a few minutes of crying my eyes out, I decided I would
be strong
.
I grabbed my phone, apologized to my mother and told her I’d be okay.
I felt
sorry
for Agent Bronson to have to deal with me
while I behaved like an irrational toddler
.
T
he hysteria wore off, embarrassment followed.

As I collected myself, I apologized multiple times
for making it
awkward
.
He
refused to accept my apology, stating it was a rite of passage to grieve for our pets.
Pets were part of the family;
he understood that
.
However, I
didn’t remember any signs of
him grieving
a
couple of days before when he
said
had
lost his dog.
The man
clearly
had his emotions in check, but I guess to be a federal agent, you’d have to be that way.

We
pulled back onto
the road
,
and
I
did my best to
calm myself
by the time we arrived at the station.
I realized my cheeks were probably red and puffy
,
and I
’d
have to explain what had happened.
I forced deep breaths before
exiting the car.

Like the gentleman he was,
Agent Bronson
walked me with an umbrella and
held the door open for me
to enter the station.
He e
lected to stay b
ehind
and wait
in front
, under the
awning
.
I didn’t blame him
;
the
police station
reeked.

As usual,
as I entered the front waiting area,
the aroma of dirty socks and strawberry cream fresh
ener
assaulted
my
senses.
Strolling by
the randomly
assorted chairs in the waiting area, I made my way to the elevated,
round
ed
reception desk.

“
H
ello, Fiona.
Are you doing okay, darling?
You look mighty upset,” Ms. Spinks
, the elderly police station receptionist,
said
with a crackled voice.

She grabbed the edge of her reading glasses and harshly yanked them from her face with her
neon orange
acrylic nails.

“I’m fine, Ms. Spinks.
Just bad news about my dog.
I’ll be fine,” I choked out the words as she hit the button to open the green door
that led to the back of the station
.

“Oh, my.
I’m so sorry, dear,”
she
said, giving me a
pout of sympathy.
“Let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll be fine.
It happens, it is to be expected,” I tried to quote my father
, channeling
him so that I
could s
tay strong.

“Detective Chase is expecting you, dear.
Try to
keep your spirits up
.
And I’m so sorry about your pup,”
she
said
grimly
.

I
treaded
along the industrial hallways of the police station to
the detective’s
undersized
office
.
He was sitting at his desk with his head buried in a file, pen in
his
hand.
I
slipped in and took my place in his
wooden
guest chair
in front of his unadorned plywood desk
.
He
folded
his hands on the file as h
is head snapped up
, gazing at
my
puffy
, reddened
face
.
He
arched his
overgrown
eyebrows in concern.

“What is wrong, Fiona?
I can tell
you’ve been crying.
Is everything
alright
?
”
he
said, studying my face
,
watching my reaction carefully.

“It’s Luminal.
He
died
at the vet’s office.
He has been there under critical care with an aggressive salivary gland tumor.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” I struggled to get the words out
.

I
quickly
tried to focus
my attention
on the
case before I
commenced
another crying spasm.
The rain picked up the pace after a succession of shrill
thunderclaps
.
I peered out the
large
window
behind
his
desk,
and the
sky
had grown
darker, the wind was unremitting as it bowed the tree branches.

“I
’m
sorry
for your loss
, Fiona.
Well, you
seem to be
holding
up, nonetheless.
It’s always
d
ifficult to lose a loved one, including pets.
My dog died a couple of years ago
.
He was only four and was hit by a car when he ran out of the house and into the street.
It was one of the most difficult things to deal with
,
s
o I deeply sympathize with you,” he said, taking a box of tissues from his drawer and placing them at the edge of his cluttered desk.

I nodded my head solemnly
, swallowing
to clear my throat
, folding my arms across my chest for added security.

“Thanks, Detective
.
I’ll be fine.
So, let’s get to the case
—
what
’s
up with th
e
curse you spoke of?”

“
Ah, the curse
!
Well,
let me update you on Emily Vance first
,
and then we’ll get to Dimitri LeMorte.”

I struggled to remember the details of the suspects through my
cloudy
head.

“Emily Vance is the homeless lady who discovered the victim, right
?
”
I said feebly, keeping my eyes focused on
his face
to
remain in the conversation and
to
not drift off to
the island of despair.

“Yes, and
remember her latent fingerprints were found on the sword.
Sh
e a
dmit
s
venturing down into
Dracul’s Den
while
the teens were not there and looking through their stuff.
She was probably seeing if anything was worth taking to the
pawnshop
for money
—
it’s not
as if
she has a job or anything
.
I suppose she didn’t want to have to explain where she would have
acquired
the sword
from,
so she passed on stealing it.
”

“No doubt
.
Will she be arrested since her prints were on the murder weapon?”

He hesitated for a few seconds.

“Not for now.
The rest of her story checks out
,
and that was the only thing we didn’t have the answer for with her.”

“What about this Dimitri guy?”

“
Well, it seems Dimitri LeMorte is not
my biggest fan
, Fiona.
He blames me for his
traffic
arrest and says he didn’t accrue the parking tickets that led to the warrant.
I had nothing to do with his parking tickets; I’m the medical examiner and director of the crime lab, for Pete’s sake, not a beat cop
.
I can’t help it
he
bec
a
me a suspect for murder
,
his
background
was checked
,
and
it
led
to an arrest of something
he
should
’ve
t
ook
care of,”
he
panted,
expressing a genuine
passion about the
subject.
“
He wasn’t that
nice
of a fellow when I met with him and Melanie Newsted on Saturday.
T
he meeting
was
very brief
, slightly hostile,
and rather uninformative.”

“What a weird guy!
”
I huffed, shifting sides
of
the chair to find comfort.
Police station fur
niture wasn’t known for being luxurious.

He
took a lo
ng swig of coffee from
an
over
sized mug that said
Trust me, I’m a d
octor
.

“
Melanie Newsted claims she was fal
sely accused of child abuse
,
and
Victoria
was placed
into a
foster home
at the age of five
.
Melanie
stated she couldn’t afford to pay
attorney’s
fees to fight the case and eventually couldn’t afford
her house
rent
because she had to spend so much money
keeping herself out of jail
for the child abuse charges
.
”

“Wait, if you don’t have money and you’re charged for a crime, don’t you get an attorney appointed to you?”

“That is true, but the attorney she was appointed at the time wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear, so she hire
d
somebody else.
The court
-
appointed attorney was unwilling to fight the fight for Melanie.
Hence, she lost Victoria, but the attorney she hired was able somewhat
to
fight the charges and keep her out of jail.
The whole thing was an absolute mess.
She placed an ad for a roommate to help with expenses
,
and
that’s when she
met
Dimitri LeMorte
.
He moved in a
s
her
roommate
and
shar
ed
the bills
wh
ile
Victoria
lived
with the foster family
for a few years
.
Melanie saved up for
more
attorneys’
fees
during this time
to get her
daughter
back.
”