“Well…” Leela gave us a resentful look, then shrugged. “Who do I call to clean up this gorefest? I doubt Milly’s Maids will tackle it.”
“We’ll get you the number of a cleaning company specializing in hazardous waste situations like this.” I looked around, trying to avoid the stained carpet. It might be dry by now, but I had no desire to walk over Mendin’s grave, so to speak. It was likely he’d been killed right in that spot, given the amount of blood. After a moment, I spotted his desk and nudged Viktor with my elbow. “Over there.”
“Right. Come on, if you walk across the sofa, you can avoid the carpet.”
I pushed one of the recliners sitting opposite the sofa back against the wall, leaving a narrow trail around the mess. “Or we can just go this route.” We neared the desk. I glanced over my shoulder at the landlady. “Did he have any pets? Any friends that you know of?”
“Nope, and not that I knew about. Mendin kept to himself and I didn’t intrude. He paid his rent on time, never made any fuss to annoy the neighbors, and he was a good tenant. Steady fellow, even if he was a shifter. I rented him this house about five years ago, and he seemed to settle right in.”
Leela let out a gruff sigh and dropped into one of the chairs on the opposite side of the room. She pulled out a cigarette and, without asking if we minded, lit up. As she sat there, puffing away, I had a sudden picture of her life. She seemed older than her years, hardened by life and tired of coping with everything fate threw her way. She was worn out, and it showed on her face, in her movements, in her energy.
As we approached the desk, Leela said, “I’m not much on his kind, but for someone to do this… I just don’t understand the cruelty of life, you know? I don’t know what the killer did to him, but there’s so much blood… I already talked to the police, but there wasn’t much I could tell them. I live three blocks away, and I wasn’t the one who found him.”
That was the second time she’d made a questionable remark about Mendin’s lineage. I glanced over at her, wondering just how far her distaste extended.
“Who did find him?” Viktor asked.
“He carpooled to work. Tuesday morning, when he didn’t meet them on the street, one of his coworkers came in to find out why he wasn’t answering their texts. The door was unlocked and when the guy opened it, he found him.” She shook her head and went back to her cigarette.
I sat down at the desk. It was one of those simple computer desks, with a hutch over the top. There was a laptop on the desk, along with a few bills, an empty coffee mug that looked like it had been used, a bowl of M&Ms, a framed picture, and not much else. The desk didn’t look like it had been disturbed.
I opened the lid and pressed the power button. It came on so quickly that I realized it had been in sleep mode. And luck was on our side—it wasn’t password-protected.
I glanced at the various apps. Mendin liked to play games, that much was apparent. There were at least two dozen icons for games, most of which I recognized as either role-playing games or first-person shooter games. There were a few puzzle games as well. I opened the folder leading to his documents and scanned the files. A few were labeled as correspondence, but one bore the title “Clients.” I opened that one.
Viktor was watching from behind my back. “You think the killer might be one of his clients?”
I shrugged and glanced over at Leela, who was staring off into space, in her own little world. “Leela, Mendin was a psychic, as well as a computer tech. You know that, right?”
She nodded. “When he first moved in, he and I talked about that. I knew that he told fortunes on the side, or some such thing. I never put any credence in that woo-woo shit, but as long as he paid his rent and didn’t mess up the house, I didn’t care.”
“Did he ever tell you about any of his clients? Were any particularly troublesome?”
She narrowed her eyes, then shrugged. “I have no clue. Like I said, he kept to himself, he paid his rent, and I only dropped over when there was something to fix.” She paused, then added, “I’m not comfortable around Cryptos. No offense intended.”
Any empathy I had for her ended with that. I glanced at Viktor, but kept my mouth shut. We both encountered plenty of prejudice in our lives, and while I’d normally call people on it, I had no stomach for a debate today.
“I see,” was all I said.
“I don’t mean to sound like a bigot, but…you understand.”
“I’m afraid I don’t, being one of those Cryptos myself. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ll get back to our work.” To Viktor, I said, “I want to take his laptop with me.”
“All right. You sort through his desk and I’ll take a look through the rest of the house.” Viktor studiously ignored Leela as he answered.
Leela grunted, then heaved herself out of the chair and headed for the door. “I’ll be outside, waiting to lock up.”
“Fine. We’ll be out when we’re done.” I waited till the door shut behind her to explode. “Why do people think it’s all right to say those things to our faces?”
“Because they truly don’t get it. They don’t see why we should be offended when they insult us. It’s stupid, but that’s the way they are. And with people like Leela, I’d like to give them the benefit of the doubt, but it seldom works out in my favor when I do.” Viktor grunted, then shrugged. “Whatever. I’m going to search the rest of the house while you finish here, and then I’ll be upstairs.”
As he left the room, I turned my attention back to the desk. I was sorting through the shelves when I felt someone watching me. Thinking Leela was watching through the window, I turned, but no one was there.
“Hello?” I said, shivering. I waited, but there was no answer. But I could swear someone was standing nearby. “Is that you, Mendin?”
Again, there was no answer, but I felt a stirring in the air. Swallowing, I turned back to the desk. There were a stack of bills marked “Paid,” along with a few cards. I looked through them. They were birthday cards to Mendin. One of them read: I’ll love you forever—Candace.
Who was Candace? I picked up the picture and studied it. Mendin was with a girl, and his arm was draped around her. I turned the frame over and undid the back, popping the picture out. Scrawled across the back of the photo were two names: Mendin and Candy, and it was dated June 8, last year.
I tried to find his phone, but all I found was a spare set of car keys. I pocketed them, then crossed to the stairs and called out to Viktor.
“Did you find his phone?”
“Yes, I’m coming down,” he said. For such a big man, he was surprisingly quiet.
“I think Mendin had a girlfriend named Candace. I wanted to look in his phone to see if she’s listed in his contacts. Did the police mention anything about her in their file?” We had both skimmed the file earlier, but I couldn’t remember if anything about her had been noted.
“I don’t remember. Well, we have his phone. I also cleared out his medicine cabinet of any prescriptions, and I found a notebook next to his bed. It looks like he recorded his dreams so we might find something of use in there.”