10

McKenna and I met up at The Tripple Dekker later that day to compare notes. He'd gone to talk to the police about similar cases, and I had contacted the Capricorn ambassador to ascertain that the telepathic shapeshifters were in no way connected to the strange deaths before tracking down Schenker's girlfriend to see if she could shed any light on the situation. Geoff ordered a Greek salad sans the little potato salad bonus they often came with, a cup of lemon chicken orzo soup, and crusty Italian bread with an olive oil and herb dip. I ordered a shepherd's pie smothered in Irish cheddar with a side of cheesy garlic Texas toast. He asked for water with a slice of lemon in it. I requested a Coke.

"How'd it go?" I asked, tearing apart gooey, garlicky strips of buttery bread to pop in my mouth.

"The police weren't especially cooperative. No big surprise. I did a little research online and wasn't able to find any connections, but I did find lists of surviving relatives in the obituaries. I was able to contact a few people by phone. You'd be surprised how frank folk can be when they're trying to find answers, too." He withdrew a small notepad from a jacket pocket and flipped it open so he could squint at his own scribble. "Nothing unites them. Gender, age, ethnicity, beliefs. None of them knew each other. In every case the deaths were sudden, unexpected, and medically bizarre. Some of the victims appeared unscathed, others looked like they'd lost a fight with a rabid grizzly, and in a couple of cases the immediate surroundings also appeared disrupted as though the victim had thrashed about, perhaps experiencing seizures, maybe just acting out in their sleep."

"Any history of that?"

"No one was able to hazard any guesses. Shall we see if we can examine any of the corpses?"

I parted my hands with a piece of cheesy goodness in each one and reminded him, "Dinner?"

"Sorry. Should we go that far? Is it necessary?"

"You just want to, you twisted freak."

The older man grinned as he pinched off a piece of crust and swirled it through a little sauce bowl containing golden oil and colorful bits of plant matter. "I wasn't intrigued by any of this until we got involved."

"But you don't think there's a connection?"

"I don't, but we haven't exhausted all avenues yet."

I nodded. "No alien involvement. So, the whole thing probably gets yanked out of our hands, but I'm still curious…just because it's all so weird."

McKenna shook his head. "Our participation just came to an end."

"You're curious, too."

"Not as much as you are," he admitted.

"I spoke to the girlfriend."

"Schenker's girlfriend?"

"Duh. She works at Johnny's Quick Subs. Weird chick. I think they call 'em Goth."

"Okay," he nodded and lifted a fork to dig into the salad that had just been set before him.

I smiled at the waiter who placed a hot charger in front of me, the searing hot iron kettle atop it steaming and dripping Guinness gravy and orange cheese. "Thanks. Okay, so I spoke to her and she told me that she and Schenker are really big horror fans."

McKenna chewed, then shrugged, "Irony?"

"No. Not irony. Y'see, my neighbor's kid, this Jakob Dusek was a horror movie fan, too."

He looked sad for me until a memory popped into his forebrain and he mentioned while spearing cherry tomatoes, "One of the other victims was a horror film buff, too."

"Okay. First connection."

He told me, "The strongest connection being they were all human beings."

"Ha," I grumbled as I outlined the top of the little iron pot with my knife, severing the lines of cooling cheese scabs from their source. "Do we know for a fact that none of the others were horror fans?"

"What would that have to do with their gruesome deaths anyway?"

"Grasping straws," I told him, moving cheese from the sides of the pot to my mouth with my fork. It was a really good, sharp, nutty cheddar.

"Okay," he said, recalling more of what he'd learned. "I think one of the girls was known for attending fantasy conventions. There could be a horror link there."

"Like…sexual fantasies?"

"No, like Star Trek and Star Wars and things like that. Comic book characters and horror movies, Elvira and Wonder Woman, Conan the Barbarian, Superman and stuff."

"Weak," I said.

"Not necessarily."

"The whole thing's weak."

He mentioned, "At least three of the ones I did research on had attended or hosted Halloween parties."

"No way!" I blurted, feigning shock. "Right around Halloween?"

"You started this train of thought," he mentioned.

"A train to nowhere," I sighed.

"You should order food for her," he said, gesturing toward the Quasar with his fork. "She draws attention sitting there staring at the TV over the bar while everyone else at the table eats and drinks."

"Kid? You wanna Coke?" I asked her.

Amanda failed to acknowledge my presence while the Oilers showed the Devils a thing or two.

"I should spend my hard-earned money on food she doesn't need?"

McKenna told me, "Much as you care for her, it surprises me that you don't treat her better."

I stopped chewing and stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "I'm sorry. Your relationship is unique. I can't honestly compare it to anything else…from…ever."

I worked at a bit of ground beef stuck between two molars with my tongue. "That's right. You can't. There's nothing like the two of us. Maybe you should just sit back and keep your mouth shut."

He coughed and reached for his napkin. He was thinking I was a little extra sensitive since my ex-wife's death. He was smart enough not to suggest it out loud.

I said, "You wanna treat her? Go ahead. She'll eat anything you set in front of her. Buy her a hamburger. Buy her a whole roast turkey, all the trimmin's. Buy her a God-damned Happy Meal you feel so sorry for the way I treat her."

He cast his eyes about at our closest fellow customers, decided they either hadn't noticed what was being said at our table or were too polite to show it. He knew I'd know if we'd become the center of attention, but under the circumstances I was unlikely to give a rat's ass. "My apologies," he said quietly. "I'm well aware of the fact that she doesn't require sustenance."

"Yeah, well," I grunted by way of my own apology. "Horror movies. Maybe. That's all we dug up. That's all we maybe got."

"Did you want to see the bodies?"

"Now there's another connection," I said sarcastically, "every damn one of them's dead." and I thought of my ex and not the kid who'd passed away in front of me just last night.

Geoff continued eating, wondering if he should offer himself for private counseling services should I need it, realizing he probably just had. He radiated weak warmth my way and I physically shuddered, then sighed.

"Ain't this place great?"

He wanted to ask if I shouldn't make more sensible choices for my diet, then reminded himself I was still in mourning. His eyes roved toward the Quasar and he saw there my best means of riding out the stress and grief I was under. Blinking, he thought, You're the most difficult person I have ever had any kind of relationship with.

I snorted and went back to shoveling down my dinner. "Whatever."