Belladonna Dreams Read online

  My mother sat between Malachi and Caleb Green. She liked both men and it kept her from looking at my plate. I had to admit, nobody in the group ate their steaks as rare as I did. I wanted it hot all the way through, but red, not pink. It was enough that I had to put all my other food on a different plate because I did not like the blood mixing with things like salad and rolls.

  Fiona sat closest to me. I had to admit I was wrong. When I had first met the sage burning pagan, I had pegged her as a vegetarian, possibly a vegan. She was the only one that ordered her steak medium rare. It did not moo like mine, but it was close. In addition, she had requested a porterhouse, not a steak for the gentle hearted female vegetarian. I had scolded myself for buying into stupid stereotypes when she had ordered a cheeseburger the first time I ate with her.

  She still was not my favorite person, but she was growing on me, like mold. Fiona was a hell of a lot better than Wendy, who had ordered her steak burned to a crisp and wiggled when she spoke. I wanted to show her where the bathroom was.

  My mother carefully prodded Malachi. For a moment, a look crossed his face, and then it was gone. He took his elbows off the table. Green followed suit and suddenly, we were all very aware of our elbows, napkins, and silverware.

  Overall, the food was good, the barbecue went over well and I managed to avoid Wendy. I now sat in a bag chair. My mother sat next to me, with a Pina colada in her hands. She kept commenting about how she could not taste the rum. This was due to Trevor’s skills at whipping up drinks. My mother was going to stagger home if she drank too many of his Pina coladas. Even I had an alcoholic beverage; something called a mojito. It tasted of cherries and mint.

  Gabriel and Malachi both pulled chairs up to my mother and me. I had an ashtray on a small table between the two of us. It was this that the guys coveted more than our company.

  “Groupie or gold-digger?” My mom asked Malachi quietly. I had learned long ago that my mother was a woman who spoke her mind. She had to be to deal with my father’s family.

  “Gold-digger,” Malachi answered, sipping a margarita. The smell of the tequila was strong. I wondered how much extra Malachi had requested.

  “Totally,” Gabriel agreed.

  “Maybe if you all blow smoke at her, she’ll instantly die from suffocation,” Fiona offered.

  “I think we would need a few more smokers,” I told Fiona.

  “I’m willing to light up for the cause,” Fiona smiled at me. I could not help but smile back.

  Two

  Badger, the five-month old mutant Akita, peed on me as I entered the house. I frowned at him. He did this every time I came home. It did not matter if I had gone next door or was away chasing a serial killer. My mother was looking into this bizarre behavior. It seemed I was the only one it peed on and it could hold it all day long and never have an accident.

  Mom had given me naming rights on the puppy. It had taken me over a week to name him because I had to go to Texas. However, upon my return, he peed on me. Then for the three days I had been home, he pestered me. In the mornings, he would run and jump in my bed at full speed, flying through the drawn curtains as if he were possessed. If I shut my door, he whined and barked at it. He did not want in; he just did not want the door closed. He actually preferred sleeping in my mom’s room in a bed she had bought for him. Despite that, it was me that he woke up in the mornings when I was home. Therefore, I had named him Badger because she would not let me name him Demon Spawn.

  We were wrapping up a long weekend. Neither the VCU nor the SCTU had been called to duty for four days. It was rather impressive. Of course, the VCU had earned a lot of time off earlier in the month by chasing a guy who liked to chew on people while dressed as a werewolf, and then another guy that killed other guys and dressed the victims in maid’s uniforms from porn stores. I still had not figured out if it was a sexual thing or a humiliation thing. I was leaning towards humiliation.

  My month had been short. I had gone to Texas to chase a teenager, then a person releasing plague, and after that, we had spent a few days in Florida tracking down a guy who liked to use his victims as sea fishing bait. Everyone was weird. It was even weirder that they had all just sort of stopped for Memorial Day Weekend. I was pretty sure not all the serial killers in the US were barbecuing with family and friends. Of course, I was sure there was a cannibal or two doing exactly that. I also hoped that come Monday morning that was not what we were chasing. I had a thing against cannibals.

  “I don’t feel so good,” my mother said, flopping onto the couch next to me.

  “I told you they had rum in them,” I scolded her. Like me, my mother did not drink. However, I only had a single mojito, while my mom had slugged down five Pina coladas.

  “Normally, I can taste it,” she told me.

  “Trevor is a master at many things, including getting people drunk.” Almost everyone had staggered home after the barbecue. Even Malachi had, and he had a very high alcohol tolerance.

  Badger began barking at the front door. This meant we had company. He barked at the backyard when he wanted out and he had relieved himself less than ten minutes ago on my leg. I waited for the doorbell to ring or the door to open. The guys rarely bothered with niceties like knocking. My mother was still getting used to it. Badger continued to bark, but there was no doorbell, no knocking, and no one pushing my front door open. I sighed. I was already in my roller-skating giraffe pajamas. I had changed when the dog peed on me.

  “Is there someone here?” My mother asked.

  “If there is not, we are changing his name to Demon Spawn,” I told her getting up.

  There was indeed someone there. Caleb Green was lying on my doorstep, passed out. Why he picked my doorstep over Malachi’s, I did not know. “It’s Caleb.”

  “Oh,” my mother got up. We stood staring at the snoring man on my front porch. Badger sniffed him twice, decided he was uninteresting, and went back into the house. “What do we do with him?”

  “Beats me,” I shrugged and closed the door. My cell phone was on the table. I called Malachi.

  “’ello?” He answered, voice slurred.

  “Hey, Caleb is passed out on my porch. What do I do with him?”

  “Why is ‘e passed out on your porch?”

  “I am guessing it is because that is where he fell before he passed out. Could you come get him?”

  “Nope,” Malachi answered.

  “Why?”

  “’e’s your problem today. I need a nap. Trev made me do shots wit’ ‘im, Lucas, and Gabe. I’m drunk.” Malachi hung up on me. I considered calling an ambulance. Instead, I called Trevor.

  “Hello?” Trevor did not sound drunk, a feat considering he had been drunk when he left the barbecue, even telling Wendy that her boobs were lopsided and she should get it fixed.

  “Caleb Green is passed out on my porch and it is your fault. Come get him.”

  “Let him sleep it off.” Trevor hiccupped. “I can’t lift him.”

  “Lucas can.”

  “Honey, Lucas is passed out. We barely made it through the front door ourselves. Malachi can really hold his liquor. I made Cherry Bombs. Drag him into the living room and let him sleep on the floor. Maybe Badger will pee on him.” Trevor hung up on me.

  I grabbed the passed out federal agent under the shoulders and dragged him into my living room. Mom checked to make sure he was still breathing, and he was, so she got him a pillow and blanket. The clock in the living room said it was late afternoon. I didn’t know how long drunk people stayed passed out, but I hoped it wasn’t long.

  “Me too,” Mom said as she started up the stairs.

  “You too what?” I asked.

  “I am going to bed. Good night.”

  I sighed at her. Caleb was snoring. Badger curled up on the couch and pawed at the TV remote. I flipped on the TV. Animal Planet was already on. He barked as the show Too Cute! came on.

  “Badger, what the hell is wrong with me? How did I end up with you, Mom, and
Caleb?” Badger turned his head sideways and looked at me. My life was easier when I was chasing serial killers. At least I understood them.

  My phone rang. The caller ID said “Private Number.” I let it go to voicemail. As soon as the light beeped to say I had a message, the phone started ringing again with the same caller ID.

  “Marshal Cain,” I answered.

  “Tell me you’re sober,” the man’s voice on the other end said.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  “Deputy Director Jonas Johnson with the FBI.”

  “Deputy Director, I am sober. How may I help you?”

  “You can start by explaining why everyone is ignoring their phones or sounds drunk.”

  “Well, we had a barbecue, the VCU and SCTU, as sort of a bonding thing, since we have been working together so often as of late. It appears the drinks were stronger than everyone thought. Even my mother ended up drunk.”

  “I don’t care about your mother. I care about my agents.”

  “Well, Blake hung up on me a few minutes ago, and Green is passed out on my living room floor. I do not know about the other three.”

  “Your boss just giggled when I called him.”

  “Oh, well, I am not sure what to tell you, sir. I do not know how long people stay drunk. I know there are several factors involved, such as height, weight, amount of food consumed, type of food consumed, and amount as well as type of alcohol imbibed.”

  “I don’t want a lecture, Marshal Cain. I want a team in South Dakota. Since you’re the only sober person I can find, I’ll send you the files.” He hung up on me.

  “Jackass,” I said to my dead phone. Badger barked once. I wasn’t sure if it was at me, the TV, or the phone.

  Badger took offense to my booting the laptop. His attempts to crawl onto the keyboard were instantly rebuked by my shoving him onto the floor. It didn’t stop him; it just made him more determined. He grabbed the power cord, which was attached to the computer but not plugged in and began jerking with his teeth. I scolded him and yanked the cord away, but within a few seconds, he was back at it, this time his mouth grabbing the computer itself.

  There was a cracking sound. Badger gave it another good yank. The laptop made a strange noise as the screen went black. I swatted the puppy’s butt like the trainer told me to do. It did nothing to stop him and my laptop was suddenly his favorite chew toy.

  “Hello?” Fiona answered her phone. She didn’t sound bad.

  “Are you sober?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m not stupid enough to drink Trevor’s mixed drinks. I stuck with beer and water. What’s up?”

  “Well, it seems you and I are the only sober people that chase serial killers. Deputy Director Johnson sent me some files, but Badger the Deranged just ate my laptop.”

  “That dog has issues. Come over here and we’ll work from the backyard.”

  “Thanks,” I hung up.

  Badger was still happily chewing on the laptop. He growled when I bent down to take it away. Maybe he would choke on a key and my mom would be done with this dog nonsense. I stuck my tongue out at him as I left. Maybe he would pee on Caleb Green while I was gone. It seemed more likely he would pee on my laptop.

  Three

  The email title read, “Do we have a problem?” Inside were pictures, lots of them. I was used to gory, graphic photos, but these were not them. The five women all looked like they were asleep, albeit in weird places. One was in her hallway, one in a bathroom, two in bed, and the final one was in the kitchen. The cause of death was unknown.

  All five of them had died around the same time, lived in the same town, and they had been at the same bar the night before. When one healthy twenty-something dropped dead of unknown causes, it was tragic. When five did it, there was something going on. However, I didn’t know what, exactly.

  “Poison?” Fiona chimed up as she brought me a soda. We were sitting at a table in her backyard.

  “There should be signs,” I frowned. “Poisoning people is nasty business. They all have their own little tells, like frothing at the mouth or contorted positions. These bodies look like they have just died.”

  “I’ve seen some of the meds you take. The side effects include shit like death. Could they have been killed with something like that?”

  “Cause of death would be heart failure,” I answered. “Some of the meds I take do have nasty side effects, but it is because they work on how the blood is pumped through the body. Sumatriptan can cause heart attacks, but it takes a lot of it and the cause of death would be heart failure, not unknown.”

  “Yeah, but how does that one work, the uh…” she searched for a minute, “…DHE.”

  “Strangely, I do not know. I am sure I have been told and read the patient information, but it is always a last resort. The info has never stuck in my head.”

  “Well, give me that,” she took the laptop and started typing. It was hard to believe that I didn’t actually know what I was injecting into my body and how it worked. Normally, I was very interested in that kind of stuff.

  “It’s like a super-triptan,” she sounded deflated. “It has some other properties, but the cause of death would be similar to Imitrix.”

  “So, it is a sedative.” I frowned harder.

  “That didn’t show up in a tox screen?” Fiona gave me a look, voicing the reason for the deepening frown. “Okay, let’s pretend for a second that you are an expert at killing people, but you want to fly under the radar. How do you do it?”

  “However I like, but I dispose of the bodies.”

  “Good point,” Fiona thought for a moment. “What about exotic poisons?”

  “Blowfish, poison dart frog slime, nicotine, rhubarb, kudu, chocolate, monkshood...”

  “Wait, did you say rhubarb?” Fiona asked.

  “The root is fine to eat, but the leaves are poisonous. Unfortunately, it is more likely to kill your kidneys than your entire body.” I thought for a couple of minutes. “The problem with any and all of these is that they don’t taste good. Poisonous stuff usually tastes bitter to humans. It is what keeps us from ingesting it. There was no injection marks found on the body, so it had to be ingested or spread on the skin.”

  “There are no signs of rash. Doesn’t poisonous stuff usually leave a rash too?”

  “Yes. So, it was ingested, but not listed in the stomach contents and like I said, it all has a bitter taste to it. Now, I have never licked a poison dart frog, but I am sure it tastes bitter and gross. I cannot imagine these women licking poison dart frogs either. Blowfish, you have to have a special license to serve and they would have checked for it.”

  “And it’s unlikely they were killed with chocolate, because it takes pounds of the stuff to be lethal to a human,” Fiona added, surprising me with her knowledge about chocolate. Most people vehemently deny that chocolate is toxic. “I think it’s like twenty pounds in a short span of time. Anyone who eats that much chocolate is going to be sick long before they die of poisoning.”

  “Antifreeze used to be sweet. Now, they have added a bittering agent to it, but it would have horrible symptoms,” I said.

  “Belladonna is sweet,” Fiona said.

  “Also, it is a sedative.” I leaned my head back to stare at the sky. It never really got dark in Kansas City, due to too much light pollution. A few very bright and daring stars shone through the brownish tinted sky. “How much belladonna would it take to kill a person?”

  “Beats me, I just know it’s sweet.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “My aunt was crazy. She baked a pie with belladonna berries and it killed everyone that ate it, including her two children. If it hadn’t been sweet, they wouldn’t have eaten it. Unfortunately, the only people who use belladonna are crazy people and witches. I can’t imagine there’s a coven of witches in South Dakota, so I’m guessing it’s a crazy person.”

  “But they would have found belladonna in the stomach contents. So, a crazy person that knows how to
distill belladonna and make it a concentrate. The liquid is sweet, so it mixes with just about anything. We have a murder weapon and a crazy person. How nice.”

  “Nope, it says they tested for belladonna.”

  “Well hell,” I sighed again. “I am out of ideas. Poison just does not taste good, so most people do not voluntarily consume it.”

  “Suicide pact?” Fiona offered.

  “If so, then it is not a problem. Why do five twenty-somethings decide to kill themselves via exotic poisons in South Dakota?”

  “Because it’s South Dakota.”

  I didn’t really have a response to that. Everything I knew about South Dakota would fit into a teacup. I wasn’t even sure if Mt. Rushmore was in South Dakota or North Dakota. Not only had I never been to the state, but I could not remember any history lessons that mentioned the area. However, I was fairly sure that bison went there to die. I didn’t know why I thought this and despite the opinion of my logical brain that this was correct, another part of my brain was calling me an idiot. Sometimes I worried about my sanity considering my brain couldn’t even agree amongst the different parts.

  Fiona was typing furiously on her laptop. Her search was for information regarding the bar. It seemed there was some history there. In the 1990s, four women had disappeared. Two had last been seen with owner Kevin Hyder. The women in question had belonged to the Lakota Nation and therefore, the tribal police had called in the FBI. They hadn’t found anything to link Hyder to the missing women. A few years later, a mass grave had been found that included the four missing women and a handful of others.

  Since then, Kevin Hyder and the Hyde and Seek Bar had been star individuals. Hyder gave to charities. The bar did a good business and bought as much stuff locally as it could. It was even a stopping place for bands as they traveled up in the world.

  With this new knowledge, I wondered if there was actually a city big enough in South Dakota to be worthy a stop by a band. Oddly, I couldn’t think of a single city in the state. It really did exist in a vacuum in my brain.