Things That Go Bump in the Night Ch. 02

Author's Note: I am in no way, shape, or form a police detective. i know what I describe here is likely wildly innacuratem. but seeing how this is fiction and supernatural fiction on top of that there is no need for abstring of comments telling me that's not how police do things. i know. butnlike any author I do live to hear from you

Things That Go Bump in the Night Chapter 2: Like Glass

The old woman's body lay sprawled out in her study. A great deal of blood had soaked into the carpet changing it from a brown to a red so dark it might as well be black. The department photographer was snapping shots from every angle as I walked in. She positioned a few markers and took another photo. I didn't need the coroner to tell me the cause of death; the slash across her neck was almost enough to decapitate her.

A uniformed officer handed me a clipboard's worth of notes and said, "No sign of forced entry and there's nobody else in the house."

"Check every door and every window. Check the attic and basement. Any prints that aren't the victims we need to identify," I answered, "Any sign of burglary?"

"None yet, Detective. It's a big house."

I didn't think there would be. If the victim had surprised a robber-excuse me, a "Home Invader" - there'd more likely be stab wounds and not just one slashing wound. My gut said that whoever did this just wanted the old woman dead even though she had an art collection that was world famous.

I looked at the locked glass cabinet behind the victim's desk. Five antique porcelain dolls each dressed in a Victorian dress. One of the uniforms bumped into it and the whole cabinet shook.

"Be careful with those," a female voice behind me said, "They're worth more than your annual salary and they're very fragile; like glass."

I turned around and asked, "And you are, Miss?"

"Lacey Deveraux. And you are?"

Ah, I thought. This is the deceased's niece. Lacey looked to be in her 20s; mid-sized at 5'8" and with an abundance of fine, blonde hair. Her eyes were a perfect cobalt blue. What struck me most was Lacey's pale complexion. She herself could have been one of the dolls in the display case. This was a young woman who looked like she didn't often see the sun.

"I am Detective Engels, Miss Deveraux. I need to ask you a few questions."

She looked a little startled and asked, "Am I under arrest, Detective?"

"Nobody is under arrest yet, Miss Deveraux. I'm looking to gather some facts."

She led me through a door to an office. Snapping the light on I was a little stunned to see what had to be an acre of rainforests worth of paper strewn everywhere. The other rooms I've seen so far were immaculate and this one looked like a hurricane hit. Immediately I raised an eyebrow. Lacey moved a large stack of papers from a chair and invited me to take a seat.

Trying to suppress the amused look on my face as I sat down I asked, "What happened in here? Did someone ransack the office?"

"Yes," she replied, "I did. We were preparing to donate some of my aunt's paintings to a handful of museums and I was looking for the papers that establish provenance. They weren't where my aunt claimed them to be so..." Lacey looked around with a light shrug.

"In that case, Miss Deveraux..."

"Please call me Lacey."

"In that case Lacey, I need to ask that you refrain from moving anything else."

I called out to the other room asking the CSI guys to start work in here as soon as possible.

"Lacey, where were you before you found your aunt?"

"In my room; unfortunately not with anyone."

She was getting chatty which could work to my advantage. Though her comment made me glance up again unsure if she meant the innuendo or just that she had nobody to back up her story.

"Does anyone have a reason to kill your aunt?" Let's get to the meat of this. It was late and I was hoping for any sleep I could get tonight.

"Well," Lacey began, "She's rich. But killing her doesn't benefit anyone; not even me. The art, the furniture, even the house is all being donated to museums. The house will likely be made into one! My aunt's liquid assets are all being donated." She was getting quite agitated.

"Does that upset you, Lacey?"

"No..yes. I mean of course it upsets me a little. I wouldn't be human if it didn't. I've spent ten years as her caretaker and business agent and soon I won't have a job or a place to live. There's nothing I can do about it, we made sure she had the best lawyers in setting up her will. Nobody stands to gain anything from her dying."

"What about private collectors? Are any of her items going to any private collectors?"

"No. The paintings are going to numerous art museums, the dolls to the Smithsonian, and assuming the historical society makes the house a museum the furniture will stay here otherwise it will go wherever the society wants it."

"Walk me through what happened tonight, Lacey. How did you find your aunt?"

She sat back in her chair and let out a sigh. "We had dinner around 7:30 as we always do. She took her usual place in the parlor and I went to bed. I woke up around midnight and noticed that there were lights still on. I found my aunt and called you."

The uniform came in and handed me a note.

"Nothing missing, Lacey?"

"No Detective. Nothing is missing."

"Then why did my officer here find an empty doll stand under your aunt's chair? Was there a sixth doll?"

"What?" she immediately became defensive. "No, of course there wasn't. She was in negotiations with a French antique dealer for a sixth and had the stand in anticipation but she didn't have the doll yet. The stand wasn't even in the case and only my aunt had keys. I don't even have a key to the case."

I paused my writing and looked at Lacey Deveraux. I didn't think she was lying but boy was she leaving something out. I indicated we were done for now and sent another uniform with her to pack up a few things saying that she couldn't stay here tonight. She nodded her assent and the CSI crew finished up in both the parlor and office.

When Lacey and the uniform returned I gave her the reminder: Don't leave town. Cliché? Sure it was. But I always said it nonetheless. You never know.

Once we were all wrapped up Lacey drove off and we headed out. I'd get about three hours of sleep. Better than average.

Part II

There was a message waiting for me at my desk in the morning. It read, "Stop on down. --Doc." Doc was the M.E. so downing my coffee I went downstairs eager to find out if they found anything useful on our victim.

"Check this out, Eng," Doc said, holding up a small vial with a few white flakes in it.

I looked at the vial and was unable to identify what it was that had Doc excited enough to bring me down.

"It's Porcelain."

Well, shit.

I ran upstairs not bothering to wait for an elevator and sat down hard at my desk. I called the number that Lacey Deveraux had given us and didn't get an answer.

"Tim," I called to our desk man, "I'm running out to Deveraux's. I can't reach the niece, Lacey. What do we have on her?"

Tim tapped a few keystrokes and his mouth dropped a little bit. "Eng, Lacey Deveraux died two years ago in a car accident."

I ran over to Tim's screen and looked at the file he had pulled up. I quickly scanned the facts in the file: Lacey Deveraux born 9/12/1989 and died 6/26/2015. Death ruled automobile malfunction/collision with tree. It was my turn for my mouth to drop open when I saw the attached picture.

The woman shown had dark hair, a ruddy complexion, and dark eyes. This begged another question: Who the hell was I talking to only a few hours ago?

Grabbing my keys I jotted her number down and gave it to Tim. "Keep calling her until she answers and then tell me when you do. I want to know where she is. I'm going to the Deveraux house. I'll call you when I get there. Better yet. Tell her to call me!"

Part III

Fifteen minutes later I was pulling into the driveway of the Deveraux house as my phone rang. I didn't recognize the number so I answered it in "work mode"

"Detective Engels speaking."

"Detective, this is Lacey Deveraux."

I let out a quick sign of relief. "Miss Deveraux, where are you? We need to meet as soon as possible."

"Why Detective, I came back to the house. I see you pulling up right now."

"Miss Deveraux, Lacey. You should not be at the house." I was more than a little annoyed with her. Whoever she was.

"Oh Detective, I can hear the question in your voice. Come in and you'll get your answer. I'm in the office." With that, she hung up.

Just what the *HELL* was that supposed to mean?

Throwing the car in park I got out and began to approach the house. The door was open. I did something I have only had to do three times in my entire career. After a moment's hesitation I did the right thing and called for backup.

I waited, watching the doors and windows for several minutes when I heard the sound of breaking glass from inside. A lot of it. Have you ever heard a large sheet of glass break? It can sound like an explosion. So of course I went inside.

I quickly cleared the foyer and main hall on my way to the parlor. I had to move through there as the office only had one exit and that was through the parlor.

The parlor door was ajar and I called out, "Lacey? Are you in there?"

"I'm in the office, Detective."

I nudged the parlor door the rest of the way open, sweeping my eyes in both directions. The doll cabinet was the source of the glass. I expected as much. The dolls were gone. I expected that, too. The glass was everywhere in the room as if it was shattered with a great deal of force. It was shattered outward. Not a single shard was in the cabinet.

I knocked on the office door and Lacey promptly answered that she was inside and the door was unlocked but she just couldn't get to the knob right now. I opened the door, repeating my actions to ensure the room was secure.

On the desk the five dolls stood around a sixth in a semi-circle. The sixth doll looked like a young woman with an abundance of fine, blonde hair. Her eyes were a perfect cobalt blue. The doll's complexion was porcelain white. It had its hands out in a welcoming gesture.

I moved to inspect the doll and picked it up. Yes, I know that wasn't what I should do but I couldn't help it. I would swear the other five were looking at me with nervous expectation. Looking at the "Lacey" doll I noticed that it was perfect down to every detail. It even had tiny porcelain fingernails; razor sharp, tiny porcelain fingernails. One was chipped and in my mind's eye I matched that chip to the tiny fragment that Doc found.

I swear to this day that the tiny fingers began to curl around one of my own and the doll's tiny mouth began to curve into a smile. I was locked into looking at that face. I could hear soft, gentle breathing.

"Detective," called a voice behind me. I jumped out of my mesmerized state and spun around to see a uniformed backup looking at me in confusion. Sure, I was mad he scared the hell out of me but I am eternally grateful he was here. He's how I know I wasn't crazy.

In my movement over being startled I spun around. The motion dislodged the doll's grip and it fell.

The doll let out a startled cry. The. Doll. Let. Out. A. Startled. Cry. The other five gave an audible sigh that sounded a great deal like relief.

Like glass, when it hit the floor it shattered into hundreds of pieces and the uniform and I stared at each other eyes wide and as white-faced as the dolls. After a moment I cleared my throat and said, "You heard that."

"Yessir. Are we telling anyone?"

"Fuck no."

"Think you'll get in trouble for breaking one of them?"

"No, officer, I won't. She wasn't in the inventory."