This is a repost of a story that I wrote for Valentine's day a few years ago. I hope you enjoy it.
* * * *
Cupid was dead.
A trickle of bright red blood still wound its way from the gunshot wound blackened by gunpowder just above his nose. His eyes held a startled expression, his face still held a half smile, as if he had been about to greet someone when he was shot.
Shell casings riddled the area around the body which was dressed in nothing but a white cloth diaper, a hint of white briefs peeking above the edge of the material. Two huge safety pins secured the diaper at the victim's hips. On his feet were a pair of white soft canvass slip-ons. Feathered wings lay smashed under the body. His bow and about six arrows were scattered around him, his quiver in his hand.
Detective Kaitlynn Cambridge stood over the body, careful to keep the tips of her well worn boots out of the bright red puddle that surrounded the victim. She wasn't worried about the blood, she just didn't want her foot prints to be scattered in the mix around them as she worked the scene. The coppery scent of blood in her nose, she crouched down and lifted one of the shell casings on the end of a ball point pen.
"9 mm. That's a big gun to bring into a party." She looked around at the guests that were still milling just outside the taped off area. "All these casings and only one hole in the victim. And no one saw a thing."
"They were all in the bathroom," a deep voice said and she saw another pair of shoes stop next to hers, shiny, black and expensive. She knew that voice and felt a thrill of pleasure shiver through her that she quickly shoved deep.
"Jake," she said in greeting as she stood to face the man her body craved. Detective Jacob Temple, the department's golden boy and the bane and reason for her existence, smiled down at her. "What are you doing here?"
Green eyes looked past her and at the ornate surroundings, the party decorations and glasses strewn around the room. Thick brown hair that was just a bit too long brushed the collar of his suit jacket and played over his wide forehead was scooped back by a long elegantly fingered hand. "The brass thought you could use some extra help on this one, Kate, nothing more. Don't get your knickers in a twist." He smiled, full lips quirking over impossibly white, impossibly perfect teeth.
"My knickers, twisted or not, are none of your concern, detective." She hissed the words, disgusted with herself for letting him get to her. "And I can handle this case."
"Valentine party at the Mayor's house and one of his guests turns up dead? The press will be all over this, Kate. You need my help." He reached out a hand before he could stop himself, and pushed a lock of tawny blonde hair that had escaped the ponytail she habitually wore to work off her forehead.
She managed, barely, to keep from slapping his hand away, reminding herself that they were almost center stage right now in the public eye. The last thing she needed was a picture of that on the front page of the Times in the morning. She could see the head line now: Lover's Spat Over Cupid's Body.
"Fine," she growled. She pulled out her notebook, flipping it open to the page she'd been using for notes. "The victim's name is Reginald Holton, 32, single. Shot once, point blank range by a 9mm pistol. So far that's about all I know. I've got uniforms taking names and searching the property. It's a big party."
Jake's eyes slowly traversed the crime scene and then the assembled guests. All were in costume. He remember the invitation he had received a few weeks ago. A Valentine costume party, the theme, lover's throughout the centuries. He could see quite a few here, a crying Juliet being comforted by her hovering Romeo. Bonnie standing quietly next to Clyde, their Tommy guns laying on the floor in front of them. Next to them, a loincloth covered Tarzan, a stuffed monkey hanging from around his chest, had his arm around a leopard skin clad Jane. And that was only a few of the costumes he did recognize.
"Who was our victim with?"
"No one. I guess he's a friend of the Mayor's oldest daughter, Sarah. Maybe that's why the Cupid getup. He's here to spread love and joy."
Kate stepped back when a man, dressed all in black, walked up. "Hey Doc. About time you guys showed. It can't be too busy down at the morgue tonight."
"Do you have any idea how many people committed suicide tonight?" Doc Weston, the county coroner, sat down his black bag and pulled out what looked to be a long meat thermometer. He slid it gently into Cupid's side and down into his liver. After reading the digital numbers in the front, he pulled it out and wiped it off with a sterile alcohol swab. "TOD is approximately 10:30. I'd say COD is pretty easy to establish."
"Well I don't think he was stabbed with an ice pick." Kate stepped back in closer. "I need everything you can get and quick, Doc. This case is hot and the press is already outside. I especially want to see his blood tox screen."
"You'll get it as soon as I get it," Doc said, standing up. "Why aren't you off on some romantic dinner tonight, Kate?"
"Doc, you know good homicide detectives don't have personal lives, or romantic dinners. Those are for normal people." She patted the man on the back. "Soon as you can, okay Doc?"
He waved his men in and the rest of the CSI crew as Kate and Jake stepped back. "I want to interview Sarah tonight." She turned and looked at the tall man beside her. "I suppose you want in on that."
It was more a statement then a question, but he answered it anyway. "Yeah, I love watching you work, Kate. You go straight for the jugular, take no prisoners. It's terrifying."
"Great," she rolled her eyes and started to walk away to where she could see the Mayor and his family standing, just outside the line of sight of the press. They stood huddled, the Mayor, a tall thin man dressed in a cutaway coat and breeches, a pristine white cravat tied around his throat, with his arm around his daughter, a petite blonde who's curves were threatening to burst free of the shimmery gown she was wearing. His other daughter, a mousy thing, wore a staid black dress with long sleeves and a tight collar, and stood behind the Mayor. His wife, a fabulous bustled ball gown sweeping the floor, stood off to the side, a disinterested party who seemed more taken with what one of the waiters was doing then the fact that someone was murdered in their home.
Jake stood and watched Kate for a moment, wondering why the hell he couldn't get her out of his head. She was beautiful, yes, with long tawny hair that seemed to curl with a mind of it's own, defying rubber bands and bobby pins when it came to taming. Her eyes were strange, a hypnotic blending of greens and golds that seem to shift with the light and in the right one, just to the left of the pupil was a tiny brown spot, like a beauty mark. Her face was oval, high cheekbones, patrician nose, sweetly kissable lips. They all added up to top off a body that stirred a man no matter how many times he'd been stirred before.
And they'd had one incredible weekend, two unforgettable days and nights where he'd done his best to purge this need he had for her from his system.
It hadn't worked. He could still taste her on his tongue, feel her under his hands. He dreamed about her at night, waking with sweat beading on his forehead and her name on his lips. He'd catch a whiff of her scent, spicy and warm, and he couldn't help but look for her, watch her. He wanted her again, in his bed, under him, crying out his name in need and release.
He took a deep breath and lifted his hand amazed to see it shaking slightly. He had to get over this need for her. He could still remember dropping her off outside her apartment. She'd brushed a kiss across his lips, thanked him for the fun weekend and walked away without a second glance. As if it hadn't meant a thing to her. And she'd stayed away from him since, avoiding him as if he had the plague. Her attitude when forced to be with him was always antagonistic.
Kate turned to look back at him and he quickly blanked his thoughts, hurrying to catch up with her. He could play the game just as well as she could.
