“Don’t want to,” the cindercorn complained.
Perky chuckled, led us to an elevator, and pressed the up button. “Your foals are napping, and your father is making sure they’re a good temperature. The experimentation with solid food is going well, and I’ve been informed to tell you that you are clear from pregnancy and breastfeeding restrictions until your next batch of parental woes arrives.”
“No woes, only lack of sleep and much joy.” The cindercorn did her best to cross her eyes. “Much joy.” Heaving a dramatic sigh, she regarded her saddle and snorted fire at it. “Would roll and kick hooves, but break gear.”
“What happened now?”
“Vomit. Much vomit everywhere. Of the bile variety. Beauty in-tol-er-ant now to pineapple of all things. She eats pineapple, she throw up pineapple. Beauty see gorgon doctor tomorrow. Perkette check and tell if we need specialist or if pineapple no longer a Quinn household food item? All in house sad.”
Perky reached over and patted Bailey’s shoulder. “I’ll have the wife swing over tonight if Beauty is throwing up that badly. Won’t take her more than an hour to do an evaluation if you’re all right with more bile to clean up during the tests, although she’ll do some blood tests, I’m sure. She’s between projects.”
“Oh, yes, that very good. Please.”
The elevator pinged, and we stepped inside, and the cindercorn eyed the weight capacity sign, which declared cindercorns should take the steps while it declared two cindercorns and two people could safely occupy the elevator at one time. I pointed at it. “What’s that in pounds?”
“We had the elevator redone because of the frequent presence of cindercorns, so it’s rated for ten thousand pounds now, but Sam loves toying with Bailey, so the signs constantly get changed.” Perky pointed across the elevator, where a small but proper placard announced the elevator’s actual capacity. “The elevator cost the city a fortune; it actually ended up on the last ballot because renovating the building for cindercorns cost taxpayers a million dollars. The vote for a temporary tax increase to pay for the city’s cindercorns passed with a rather wide margin. The people love when Bailey comes out in her fur coat, and Sam’s earning a following, too. He’s shier than she is about shapeshifting.”
Both chiefs could shapeshift into cindercorns? I questioned if the city would survive, although I remembered the vote, which had hit the entirety of New York City. I’d been among those to vote yes to the measure, as I appreciated not having been turned to stone during the 120 Wall Street incident.
“I am best cindercorn. Children also best cindercorns. All cindercorns are best cindercorns.”
“Yes, you are the best cindercorn.” Perky hit the button for the eighth floor. “We are all residents of the eighth floor, as Bailey decided her new detective needed to be close by. Your office locks, and you do not need to let her in if she’s annoying you. Honestly, when you see the pile of paperwork in your office, I’m sure you won’t be speaking to the Chief Quinns for a few days. To compensate you for the nightmare ahead of you, I have secured a digital murder boardanda digital whiteboard for your exclusive use. You’ll have earned it within a week.”
I recognized when trouble headed my way. “What kind of case is it?”
“We suspect a serial killer, but we don’t have sufficient evidence to bump it over to the specialists yet. Honestly, I stopped counting after fifty of these cases crossed my desk, so you’ll have to get a headcount, identify the common links, and do what you can. Some of the cases are fairly fresh—as in from this morning. We have several teams out gathering evidence for you now. With the number coming in, there’s no way one pair can handle it, but you’ll be the central point for our investigation. Bailey thought a pair of fresh eyes with a new detective’s badge might be able to give us additional insight, and Sam liked the idea enough he started digging through personnel records for the perfect person, which is you.”
For the case count to be well over fifty, I struggled to believe a single serial killer held responsibility, especially if there were several new cases in one day. “Time between killings?”
“This morning, the murders were within a three-block radius and happened within a thirty-minute window. They all shared a similar murder method.”
All right. I could understand why someone might believe a mass murderer might be responsible, but a serial killer? “Why is this being classified as a serial killer and not a mass murderer?”
Perky smiled, although it was grim. “The fact you understand there is a difference between a serial killer and a mass murderer puts you ahead of the game. We have been dealing with a week-long argument about the differences because of these cases.”
“Well, it depends on which definition of serial killer you go with. Some specify there needs to be a cool-down period between incidents, and psychologically, many like to believe there is a sexual component to the crimes.”
“Ewww,” the cindercorn said, and she shook her head. “No want to think about sexual conduct between killer and goo of steamrolled people.”
Torn between dismay and laughter at the woman’s reaction, I replied, “It’s not the sexual relationship between the murderer and the corpse, typically. We call those necrophiliacs rather than serial killers.”
“Still ewww,” she replied.
“Someone went on a joyride in a steamroller and killed several people this morning?” I asked.
“That’s the problem. We don’t know how the steamroller got to the various murder sites. It’s like the steamroller manifested, ran the victim over, and teleported to the next victim before disappearing. We have eyewitness accounts there was a steamroller, the physical evidence claims there was a steamroller involved, but there’s no steamroller.”
The elevator pinged before opening, and I followed Perky out, staring at him with wide eyes. “The steamroller disappeared?”
“Honestly, that’s the most normal part of the whole case,” he muttered. “Okay, gas guzzler. Go to your office and leave us alone. Your lunch will be here in twenty minutes, so get your gear off and make yourself pretty. If you’re pretty when Sam gets here, he might even forgive you for tormenting the new recruit.”
“She fine. Not even green. Order her whatever she want for lunch, she earn it. I pay because twenty-two teleports. It twenty-two teleport penalty, issued in food.” The cindercorn lashed her tail and trotted down the center of the massive gauntlet of cop cubicles. She stopped at every desk on the way to investigate, where the officers gave her some form of junk food in exchange for an opportunity to pet her.
“I’m very confused,” I confessed. “I’m concerned I damaged my brain this morning when I rejected the advances of an incubus.”
“Ah, you’re the incubus case? We heard about that. The incubus ‘reported’ an incident to Sam, claiming that it is criminal for the NYPD to have a gorgeous virgin cop and refusing to give her paid time off to resolve the issue. I’m letting you know so you’re prepared for the flurry of speculation. Unless you’re looking for a date, play stupid. If youarelooking for a date, just tell Bailey you’re lonely. She’ll go on a mission to end your single days. Honestly, she’s pretty good at it, so that’s something.”
Oh, right. I’d rejected the incubus by stating I had no more PTO left, and however much he’d be a great start to my day, I would have to decline his invitation. Had I remained at my old precinct, the jokes about my virginity would have become relentless, with an equal mix of good-natured ribbing and maliciousness. “Doctor’s appointments,” I complained. “My next appointment is unpaid.”
