The Client’s Conundrum

2. Dead Men Make Icky Herbs

2

Dead Men Make Icky Herbs

“I rolled over, and he was just there. Dead. And naked.” Gladys flashed big brown eyes at Alex.

She really had gotten much better with men. Much more so than I’d known, if the dead body and now her interaction with Alex were any indication.

“So you had…” I raised my eyebrows. “With Mr.…”

Nuts. I’d forgotten to get the CEO’s name.

“I don’t know his name. And I didn’t have s*x with him.” Gladys seemed shocked. “I didn’t know him.”

“Why was he in your house?” I asked. No delicate way to say it, really.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you: I don’t know.”

“I think Ms. Pepperman is trying to say that when she went to bed last night—alone—Mr. Dyson was not in her home. Is that right?”

Alex gave Gladys an encouraging smile.

“Yes.” She smiled back. “Yes. That’s it. Well done.”

Alex had some strange power over women—even deeply traumatized ones, it seemed. I’d never asked him about it—because we weren’t that close—but I wondered if it was some special wizard effect. I was still a little fuzzy on what enhancements were typical for each group in the Society’s community. My temporary vamp roommate Wembley could be at turns quite expansive and very closemouthed, depending on his mood, the moon cycle, the weather, the clothes he was wearing, and who knew what other criteria. The men in my life were particularly mysterious since I’d vamped out a few weeks ago and joined the Society.

“Okay. I understand. But…” I paused, wrestling with the delicate issue. “Where exactly is Mr. Dyson now?”

“I couldn’t leave him on my good sheets.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed, thinking perhaps something had gone awry in the transformation process and fried a few of Gladys’s brain cells. It wasn’t the first time I’d had the thought. “But where is he?”

“I buried him in the backyard.”

It wasn’t that she wasn’t clever. Gladys was quite sharp. It was just that her reasoning sometimes took an unusual path.

I tried to remember that as I continued to drag information out of her. “I see. Do you remember where?”

A tiny wrinkle formed between her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Of course. How could I forget? Come outside, and I’ll show you.”

“That would be helpful,” I said.

Alex and I followed Gladys outside. She pointed to a perfectly groomed bed edged out with large stones. Inside the bed were newly planted herbs. “Those two are mint. And that’s lavender, lemon balm, rosemary, basil, and parsley.”

“You planted an herb garden. A fragrant and very edible garden.” I spotted several neatly stacked plastic pots, the kind that plants came in from the nursery. “On top of Mr. Dyson.”

Alex rubbed his face. “Gladys—”

I touched his arm. “You did all of that in between calling me and when we arrived?”

“No. That wouldn’t be possible, would it?” Now she looked at me like I was the one short a few marbles. “I already had the plants from a few days ago. I’ve been planning this garden for weeks now, since before…you know. Anyway, I had the plants and mulch, and then there was the body.”

“Right. And your sheets,” I said.

“Exactly. But I definitely buried him before I called you. Why do you think I sent you a photo?”

Again—she wasn’t an i***t, merely an original thinker.

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you tell us?” I glanced at Alex to make sure he was keeping mum. I was quite proud of myself for demonstrating restraint. He’d have kicked me in the shin if our roles were reversed.

“The picture is to identify the victim. You can’t solve the crime without knowing who the victim is…can you? I heard all about how you found our progenitor, so you’re basically like a detective.” Gladys c****d her head.

It was more accurate to say I was on the bad guy’s trail when he found me—but who was I to quibble? Gladys thought I was a sleuth, and that was a teensy-weensy bit flattering. “Okay, so, you get that we have to dig him up now? Right?” I was trying to be gentle, trying not to point out the absolute lunacy of her actions, but once again she was looking at me like I just didn’t get it.

“Wait a second.” Alex considered the bed, the yard, the surrounding area. “Any chance your neighbors heard you doing anything unusual?”

If he was thinking about jumping on board with Gladys’s whacky plan, I might have to reassess his sanity.

“I don’t think so. I was really careful—and very quiet.”

Alex indicated the six-foot fence. “No two-story houses, privacy fencing all around, large yards. It’s possible no one saw anything.”

I glared at him and pointed to the pretty herb garden. “Dead body.”

“Just a second, Gladys.” He pulled me away from Dyson’s slowly rotting corpse and Gladys. He leaned close, speaking quietly. “Yes, it was an insane thing to do. But it’s done. And he’s the CEO of the Society. You do realize how important he is in local politics, right? Your client admits to being in bed with his corpse, is known to have violent reactions to men, and covered up the crime.”

“I get that it looks bad. But there’s no way Gladys did this. And if she did, she’d have told me. It’s not like she’s holding back now. And she’s much better with men.” I poked him in the chest. “Obviously.”

“It’s not my fault that I’m woman crack.”

“Okay, that’s clearly not true—but your…whatever it is you have is really annoying.” I blew out a breath, considering his proposal. “You think the Society will crucify her.”

“Don’t you?”

I looked at Gladys, now inspecting her nails, calm as you please. She was probably looking for grave dirt. “She hauled that body out here all by herself.” I shook my head. “But, yes, I do think they’d hang her in a heartbeat. Assuming that killing people within the Society is actually a crime?”

“Yes, murder of a Society member can be a crime. The occasional escalating feud is overlooked, but not the murder of a political figure.” Alex eyed me. “You know most vamps aren’t quite as wimpy as you.”

“Say that when I have my magic sword with me, buster.” Tangwystl was a personality-filled, living sword with a bloodthirsty streak. A gift, of a sort, from my roommate. And I was sure once I learned how to use a sword I would be a kick-butt ninja sword-wielding vamp. I sniffed—that really was neither here nor there. And I couldn’t believe it, but I was considering this completely harebrained scheme. “All right, let’s say we do this. What’s the next step?”

“Well, I do have a place in mind where we can stash him, but I need to check on that. Until then…”

If there was a wall near, I’d be banging my head on it. It looked like Dyson was going to be herb garden food. “All right. For now, he stays. And then?”

“We make sure that someone notices Dyson has disappeared. Shouldn’t be hard; the guy is a workaholic.” Alex grinned. “Then we get Cornelius to hire us to find him.”

I laughed. But with a note of hysteria. “We perpetuate the myth of his disappearance then get paid to find him? You see no moral quandary with that? Not to mention that Cornelius will likely pluck our eyelashes bald if he catches a whiff of what’s actually happening.”

“He’s more likely to have some toenails removed, but it’s that or throw Gladys to the wolves.” He tipped his head in her direction. “Deception is less of a moral quandary when you consider the alternatives.”

Gladys was merrily adding potting soil to her newly made bed. No thoughts of swinging from a noose had entered her head; not that I could tell.

“Ugh. All right. Fine. But we have to find some way to convince Gladys to keep her mouth shut.”

Alex and I turned back to Gladys. I couldn’t help eyeing the herbs with misgiving. Enhanced dead guy decomposing and feeding their hungry little roots. Ick. I whispered to Alex, “What kind of enhanced being was Dyson?”

“Golem.”

I shook my head. Sounded familiar, but I couldn’t remember the particulars.

“They’re made. Created from the dead flesh of unenhanced humans.”

That’s right. Now I remembered and wasn’t surprised I’d mentally blocked out those particular details. Double ick. Wembley said they tended to be pretty good-looking, because the mom and dad could pick and choose the parts. Triple ick.

As we approached, Gladys patted into place the last little bit of soil she’d added. “Isn’t it nice? I’ve been wanting one for a long time.”

Gladys had been recently divorced when she was turned. She’d finally escaped a controlling relationship with a type-A, overachieving, critical spouse, and not but weeks later was drugged, bitten, and unwillingly transformed into a vamp. She’d gone through a lot. Knowing that made it easier to deal with her particular quirks.

“I thought the mint would be nice for mojitos. And I hear that blood tastes heavenly with a small quantity of basil, parsley, and rosemary crushed and added right before you drink it.”

I swallowed and tried not to ralph on the spot.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Gladys gave me a concerned look. “I forgot about your phobia. I shouldn’t mention blood when you’re around, should I?” She whispered “blood” as if lowering her voice made the word less offensive.

Right, because it was the mention of blood and not the herbs grown in a decomposing golem-man that was freaking me out. Actually, she wasn’t wrong. The blood part was gross, too.

But I dredged up a smile. “Not a phobia, more a strong dislike. And yay! No more projectile vomiting. I’ve got that totally under control. But about…” I tipped my head in the direction of the herb garden, a.k.a. Dyson’s resting place. “If Alex and I are going to be able to investigate, we need you to keep a low profile. And forget everything that’s happened with Dyson.”

“For now,” Alex said.

“Who’s Dyson?” She smiled innocently at me. Then she plucked a sprig off one of the plants and offered it to me. “Mint?”

She had the composure of an amazing liar, which was a little nutty given the situation…or brilliant. I couldn’t figure out which.