Revised Once in a Blue Moon

         Red and blue lights reflected off the sign of the Klose-Inn motel on the corner of93rd and Aurora. The steadily flashing lights a sharp contrast to the random, rapid, flickering of the no vacancy on the large red and white sign. The motel itself did not look any better beneath the lights. The red and blue seemed to pick up every crack and flaw in the fake stucco of the tired old building.
         The single story building housed 12 apartment-like rooms, complete with coffee pots, and color HBO. Off-white drapes covered large windows with security mesh. A few of the curtains were slightly parted allowing curious eyes to peek through them into the dark night beyond. Human nature at it’s best.
         I never understood what it was about cop cars that mad people suddenly interested in their fellow man, but it never failed. I suppose I should be used to it by now since I’ve been following then around for the last 2 years or so, but then again my 1949 Harley-Davidson Panhead was not as much of a conversation starter as a couple of black n’ whites with the Christmas lights going.
         Blowing out a stream of smoke, I leaned against a battered lamppost, contemplating my scuffed hiking boots where my faded black jeans overlapped the tops. A thick black braid fell over my shoulder when I looked down and I shoved it back behind me in irritation, as I finished my cigarette.
         Most people would consider me as morbid as the rubberneckers; I mean, I really didn’t have a reason to be at the scene of a homicide so soon after the police. I just didn’t have anything better to do after midnight on a Wednesday, besides Detective Alverez thought I would be useful here, so here I am.
         I could hear the click-tap of a pair of heels striding briskly across the broken asphalt from the group of cars. The stride had a heavy tread that made it sound pissed, my lips curled into a smirk, my night had just gotten better. Dropping the cigarette to the ground, I put it out with my heel before looking up at the approaching figure.
         “Lovely night isn’t it, Detective Alverez?” I tried to keep my voice as bland as possible but I don’t think I quite managed it. There was just something about Lucinda Alverez that irked me, I think it was the fact that she always reminded me of Mrs. Kershac, my third grade teacher, who had a voice like steel going through a meat grinder.
         “I fail to see what is so lovely about it.” I fought the urge to cover my sensitive ears; it is the voice that I hate.
         “Its mid-winter in Seattle and its not raining and you don’t think that it is a nice night? You haven’t lived here long enough.”
         “There is a corpse lying in a cheap hotel room, and it’s in too many pieces of us to tell if it is humanoid or animal, let alone if there is more than one victim. The forensic team has been though and can’t find a single hair of fingerprint; the security videos are no help what so ever, at no time did the killer ever face the camera or get close enough to if for us to be able to judge height or features. So I fail to see what is lovely about it.” Alverez was the kind of woman that could find fault with the Pope, which means I am as far from perfect as a being can get. However, considering I turn into a panther during the full moon, have a gift for death, not to mention that I’m on a first name basis for half the monsters in town, I can’t really cast stones at anyone.
         “What do you have so far?” As we walked toward the crowd of police and medics she filled me in on what information they had been able to gather so far. It really wasn’t much.
         Two people, a man and a woman, rented room 8 shortly before 10 o’clock tonight, at half past eleven the occupants of rooms 7 and 9 began to complain to the management about the noise from the television. When the night manager went to tell the couple to turn it down, he found the remains and called the cops. Ten minutes later the first car arrived on site and secured the scene.
         “Was the victim the man or the woman?”
         “We don’t know.” I did a double take on that one, how could you not know?
         “Explain.”
         “You’ll see when you get in the room.” As we neared the police tape around the room, I noticed that several officers were getting reacquainted with their dinners, and quite a few more were looking extremely pale. We stopped when we reached the yellow caution tape that surrounded several of the cars or rather when the 6’3” linebacker in a blue uniform refused to refused to lift the tape for us.
         “No civilians are allowed within the perimeter.” I was receiving a rather frightening glare as he spoke, as if he was daring me to dispute this face. I could tell he was used to people being intimidated by him. He looked like he played football in college and could bench-press my motorcycle; his overdeveloped muscles were straining against his slightly rumpled shirt.
         I always found it difficult to be impressed guys like him, especially since I know people who could throw a pickup truck a city block with out breaking a sweat. I opened my mouth to cut him down to size when I thought better of it, it was never a good idea to insult the ranks in front of the boss; it had a tendency to make them less than helpful. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut and gave him my best helpful innocent routine while Alverez argued our way past him. I always loved to see the petite detective go after some of rookies that thought they were hot stuff. It was just too funny.
         “Can you deal with a scene this close?” She asked as we ducked under the tape and began to move toward the motel.
         “This close?” She turned to look at me before glancing up at the night sky. Wondering what she talking about I glanced heavenward; barely visible through the perpetual clouds was a three-quarter moon.
         “I’ll be fine.” Detective Alverez gave me a disbelieving look, but motioned me toward a cream colored door with a black number 8 on it. Even before I touched the doorknob I could smell the blood, thick and sweet, feel its weight on the back of my tongue like a ball bearing. The beast inside me that lay dormant most of the time perked its head up at the metallic scent, it knew that smell and what it meant; there was fresh meat nearby and it was hungry.
         Maybe I would be wrong about being able to handle this much blood so close to a full moon, but I would be damned if I was going to admit that to Alverez or any of the other officers that were eyeing me. Taking a deep breath brought an even stronger smell of death to my nose and did nothing to help my control, I opened the door.
         “Shit!” Not my most poetic statement ever but accurate nonetheless. The smell of blood that had been noticeable outside filled the room making me feel like I was swimming in it. Closing my eyes against the pure red scene that greeted me, I heard Alverez stepped behind me, close enough to smell her perfume over the blood but not close enough to feel the heat of her body. I could do this, I had to do this.
         Opening my eyes I began to move methodically through the room taking in everything before processing it. Red blood covered the walls and furniture, and squished in the carpet beneath my boots. Amazingly enough it was still the bright glossy color fresh spilled blood got before it hardened into a flaky mess. There was more blood in the room than could possibly have come from one human being.
         Did the killer bring extra blood with them? Were the cops false in assuming that one of the people that rented the room was the killer? Could both people be dead? There were small bits of flesh and muscle lying about the room; it was hard to believe that these pieces no bigger than a baseball were once a person. Crouching down I took a closer look at one of the bits resting next to where I was standing. The edges had a rough look to them not like a hack so much as a tear; something had pulled this chunk off of a much larger thing.
         I took a quick glance at the walls, noticing the even spread of blood and the bumpy texture of it. The pattern of the spread looked familiar for some reason, and then I remembered. I had just finished helping Jason, one of my brothers, repaint his living room, the walls had had this same pattern to them when we had finished. The red liquid continued all the way up to where the ceiling and wall met, there were a few smudges at the top like the paint roller had had too much blood on it when it first started rolling.
         I crouched at the base of the wall looking for any kind of indention that a chair or stepstool would have left. The carpet was smooth except for a few footprints that had filled with blood. The only odd shapes that were dented into the floor was where the forensics team had placed their kits.
         Standing up again I began to sort through the smells that floated around the room. The dry chalky taste in my mouth was from the fingerprint powder used by the forensic team, but the moist taste of graveyard dirt was not from them unless someone had tramped through a cemetery before coming here, it was possible, rare but possible.
         There was also a hint of rain, not unusual in Seattle, but the smell of the forest this far inside the city was. Mixed in with the scent of the woods was a thick neck ruffling smell of wet fur and dog. I know that they don’t allow lycanthropes on the police force, I had tried to join several years ago but wasn’t able to due to the fact the first shape shifter they had on the force had gone crazy at a crime scene and torn it apart, nearly killing 2 officers.
Most animals don’t like being near Lycanthropes, every dog I have ever met has refused to track a shapeshifter. So there would be no reason for them to have a dog around this scene, especially if they think that it is the work of a shifter.
         A werewolf? It was possible but people would have heard its howls. That was the problem with dogs they always felt the need to announce their kills. It was the easiest thing in the world to avoid a pack during the full moon all you had to do was listen for them.
         The only smell that was underneath the wet fur was the smell of the disinfectant that had been used to clean the room previously, nothing of interest in that. I focused on that last smell as I looked around hoping to be able to distance myself from the meat and blood that filled the air.
         Knowing that they hadn’t found anything with their lights and scopes I decided to try a different approach. Looking back at the door I spotted several other officers watching me with Detective Alverez. Catching the detective’s eye I glanced at the uniforms around her, she nodded and turned to dismiss the men. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her once the men had disbursed, leaving the two of us trapped in the room that smelled of death and disinfectant.
         Once the door was tightly shut, I let my beast slip a little just enough to take my senses to the next level. The small mirror that hung over the low built-in dresser reflected the image of a woman with braided reddish-black hair and pale blue cat eyes, I growled at the reflection flashing a pair of sharp canines.
         “Lucky,” Alverez spoke from the doorway startling me slightly; I had almost forgotten she was there. I low growl escaped me before I went back to work, the sooner I finished the sooner we could all go home. Around the room foot and hand prints glowed, things that even the most observant humans would miss became obvious to my eyes.
         Starting with the carpet I began to track the footprints. The police all wore a slick sole dress shoe that I dismissed easily, Alverez had the low heel print, and the hiking boots were mine, but I didn’t think that any officer in the SPD was allowed to wear tennis shoes or deck shoes, both were present though. After following them around for a few minutes I gave up on trying to get anything from them. They only lead the bed and the bathroom, which was the only place that wasn’t covered in blood.
Latex gloves left a smooth handprint, but there were several different places where there was a distinct rippling to the print like that left by leather gloves. The door knob, dresser drawer, lamp, and bathroom door all held such prints. I ignored the two doors; they would not give me any information. Pulling a pair of Latex gloves out of my pocket I glanced back at Lucinda.
         “Can I touch?” I asked holding up the gloves.
         “Yes, you are the last one through.” That made my job a lot easier; I liked not having to worry about ruining any kind of evidence that might have been left after the forensic team came through. I had had that lecture far too many times; it had made me cautious at scenes.
         Slipping on the gloves I looked over the lamp first, turning it on and off to make sure none of the wires were disconnected before unplugging it and turning it over. The bottom of the lamp had a round rubber disk for a bottom, the kind that just slid over the lip of the lamp and were always falling off. I pried it off looking at both it and the inside of the lamp, everything looked normal, but electrical wiring always looked the same to me.
         Replacing the base I set the lamp back down and plugged it in before moving on to the dresser drawer. The dresser took up most of one wall and stood a good two feet tall and another foot and a half deep. Three drawers were lined up side by side along its face with a TV on top of it. There was one clear hand print on the top of the dresser where the person had braced themselves to kneel in order to open the drawer furthest from the door.
         Crouching down I grabbed the knob and pulled it out revealing the phone book and bible that all rented rooms seem to have. There was no reason for a murderer to open this drawer unless s/he was hiding something in one of them. Pulling out the books I held them up by their covers and shook them vigorously.
         Nothing fell out, no notes constructed of magazine letters or business cards of their next victims. There were no hate letters or photos with the eyes burned out. Flipping through the pages I didn’t see anything unusual, no highlighted manes or torn sheets, it was almost scary at the lack of anything.
There was something in this drawer that had caused the killer to look through it. Maybe it wasn’t the contents of the drawer that drew attention but the drawer itself. Setting the books aside I yanked the drawer trying to pull it out only to have it get stuck a little over a foot out. Judging form the depth of the chest there should be another 7 or 8 inches of room left. Reaching inside I felt around the sides of the drawer, the top and sides of it were painted smooth, but the back was rough and unpainted.
I began pushing at the sides of the back trying to lift one side up, but it was jammed in too tightly. Pulling my arms out of the drawer I yanked off the gloves; I looked over at Alverez.
         “I’ve got something back here, do you want to get forensics or should I get it?”
         “What is it?”
         “There’s a false back to the drawer.”
         “Let me grab forensics.” The fresh air that accompanied the door opening was a welcome respite to the stench that had been growing since Alverez had stepped inside. Standing up I stretched a little, taking the time to go over all the information that I had gathered, unfortunately forensics would be able to tell Lucy more than I could.