"Except for the amount of bloodshed and the size of the scratches." I walked over to the victim and squatted down, studying his neck. Like Gerard James, this man had three small scratches near the pulse point of his neck. But why - especially given that larger claws had been used on the rest of his body? I shifted a little, and saw the lipstick smear across his lips. It was the color of dried blood - not a very nice shade. "If it is the same woman, do you think we're dealing with someone who can change the size of her animal?"
Cole raised his eyebrows. "It'd be rare."
"But there are wolves who can alter their human forms, so why couldn't there be shifters who can alter their animal one?"
"I don't know. I'll do a search and see if I can come up with anything."
"Good." I rose. "I think she escaped through a back window. I'm going to go around the back and see if I can catch a scent to track."
Cole nodded, obviously not paying a whole lot of attention as he picked up a hair and carefully placed it in a bag.
I walked out the front and looked around until I found Kade, then walked over. I could smell the drunk before I got anywhere near them, and his unwashed, sour puke aroma had me stopping several yards away. Kade glanced over his shoulder, wrinkled his nose and made a face, then continued his interview for another few minutes.
"Well," he said, when he finally joined me. "That was interesting."
"Interesting because he had lots of information, or because he smelled like something the cat chucked up?"
He smiled. "Both, actually. Our killer is apparently into spanking - and he swears that while she was human, one of her hands was that of a large cat."
"Which would at least explain all the blood and claw marks." I touched his arm, tried to ignore the urge to caress his warm, bay skin, and added, "She apparently escaped through the back window. I'm going to try and track the scent."
His steps matched mine as we headed for the small lane at the end of the group of shops. "He also said that near the end of the session, she seemed to be doing this weird sucking thing to his mouth, and that he suddenly seemed in great pain."
I raised an eyebrow, amusement twitching my mouth as I glanced up at him. "Maybe she bit his tongue."
"He seemed to imply it was more 'oh my God I'm going to die' - type pain, but then, he's as drunk as a skunk, so who knows what he was really seeing." He took a mouthful of coffee, then tossed the container into the trash. "There are Japanese legends about soul-stealers - you think we could be dealing with something like that?"
"It would certainly explain why there's no souls hanging about afterward." Shadows closed in around us as we moved into the laneway. "But in the Japanese legends, the soul-stealers are foxes, aren't they?"
He shrugged. "There's no reason why there can't be soul-stealing cats, as well."
"True." It was certainly an idea worth chasing.
The ripe scent of rubbish left a little too long in the sun began to flavor the air, jostling for prominence with the sweet scent of the yellow roses climbing the fence that divided the lane from the house next door.
Kade stepped over a puddle, then asked, "You get anything useful from inside?"
"Cole thinks it's the same woman and that she's in heat, but the description our other witness gave us doesn't really match the woman Gerard James was apparently last seen with."
"Doesn't mean anything. She could have been wearing a wig, colored contacts, or anything like that. My witness certainly didn't get close enough to pick up those things.";Could you also get a check done on a Ben Wilson? He's a black wolf who manages the Nonpareil stripper business. As far as I can see, he's the only real link between the two men."
"Will do."
"Thanks, boss." I hung up, then changed lanes and headed over to South Yarra and the address Jack had given me - which just happened to be in the heart of trendy Chapel Street.
Obviously, whoever was killing off these people had a taste for power and money. And perhaps a need for the high that exhibitionism could give. Which in itself would suggest some sort of were. While the danger of public sexual acts - and the high such risks gave - was not the sole province of weres, we weres were certainly willing to take it further than most races.
It was impossible to find parking near the shoe shop in Chapel Street, so I parked in nearby Garden Street. And made sure an "Official Directorate Vehicle" sign was visible through the front window, just in case the parking inspectors got a little trigger-happy with their ticket machines.
I pocketed my keys and headed back to Chapel Street. The shoe shop was easy enough to spot - it was the one with the cop cars out front and the black plastic sheeting over the windows.
Kade was nowhere to be seen, so I ducked under the tape, showed my badge to the patrol cop, and headed in. And discovered Chapel Street shoe shops weren't like ordinary shoe shops. For a start, the shoes were well spaced rather than crammed together in soldier-like rows. Then there were spotlights over the display racks, high-back comfy chairs, and plush carpets.
And a dead naked guy in the front window.
His thick thatch of red hair was the first thing I noticed. He was leaning over a waist-high shoe display, his butt facing the window, arms and head flopping down the back of the metal stand, with pretty-colored stilettos and boots scattered all around his feet.
"Puts a new spin on eye-catching window displays, doesn't it?" Cole said, stripping off bloodied gloves as he stepped out of the window.