Unexpected Destinies. Constance Ruth Clark
It was not just a job to her.
“If it is what you were born to do, then why, pray tell, are you so bad at it?”
She tried not to laugh at Cupid’s open-mouthed astonishment.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“You can’t go around pricking your poison arrows into people who aren’t meant to be together. You of all people ought to know that,” she said. “It changes the course of their lives and they are unable to find their true soul mates because they’re so fixated on the wrong ones.”
“My arrows aren’t poison, they’re gold and I only prick those whose soul mate isn’t around or not born yet,” Cupid said, hunching his shoulders defensively. “You know that as well as I do.”
“Do I?”
She used her eyebrow trick again, since it had worked so well the first time. It was almost fun, teasing him this way. If only he wouldn’t take it all so seriously, they might actually be able to work together.
“I don’t like what you’re implying.” He sounded annoyed and she hid a smile.
“I don’t imagine you do.” She nodded to signal the handmaiden stationed at the garden gate to open it.
Passing through the elaborate golden gate, she crossed the pure white marble foyer, to the entrance of her home, her sandals padding softly as she walked. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the marble pillars, bathing them in a golden glow. As a goddess she’d been given this not so modest home, scores of handmaidens and servants.
Ah, but the best part?
Another god couldn’t enter unless they’d been invited. And Cupid hadn’t been invited. Agatha turned to him and he scowled from between the columns of her foyer.
“Stop interfering with my couples,” she said. “It’s not fair to them.”
“They’re my couples,” he shouted, stabbing a finger into his chest for emphasis before snapping his fingers and disappearing in a flash of bright white light.
* * * *
Nick cursed the hot coffee he’d spilled on his pant leg when he had grabbed for the radio. He knew already it wasn’t going to be his day
“Nick, do you read?” Steve’s tart voice said again and he grabbed the CB and responded to his partner.
“Get over to the corner Central Park South and Grand Army Plaza for a 10-54 possible 187.”
“Ten-four,” Nick replied, and flipped his lights on. Pretty posh neighborhood for a homicide, still there was no accounting for taste. This must be what Steve was upset about. He hated working homicides alone.
Five minutes later, he came to a stop amid other cruisers and flashing lights. Yellow tape had been strung across the sidewalk on the Central Park side of the street and pedestrians were either crossing to avoid it or gawking, showing that they probably weren’t native New Yorkers.
Avoiding the news cameras was easy but their presence was unwanted.
Damn media couldn’t have waited until they knew more?
“No comment,” he said into a microphone shoved into his face. The perky black woman holding it pulled it away.
“It seems the police still don’t have any leads about the body found in Central Park this afternoon…” Her voice faded as he strolled toward the yellow tape. Flashing his badge at an officer set at the perimeter, Nick ducked underneath the tape and headed down the stairs into the park.
“Over here, Detective,” Steve was already there and waved to get his attention.
“What do we have?” Nick asked.
“Definitely homicide,” was his grim response. “Female, approximately twenty to twenty-five. Looks like she might have suffered for a while before the monster who did this finished the job.”
Nick cursed, pulling on the gloves Steve handed him. He followed his partner toward the body lying on the ground.
“Could you tell what the cause of death was?”
“Nothing’s official but it looks like strangulation. From the bruises on her neck, bastard choked her with his bare hands.” Steve said spitting on the sidewalk as if to get the taste of disgust out of his mouth. “She was placed here, this isn’t the crime scene.”
Walking up to the draped figure Nick flipped over the top of the sheet. A beautiful dark haired woman stared unseeing into the distance. She was nude, her neck bruised with obvious finger marks and Nick drew the sheet up to protect her modesty. There was something familiar about her features but Nick couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. He crouched beside her and gently moved some hair from her face.
“Any idea on the victim’s ID?”
“Not yet. We’ve got forensics working on it but there was no purse around,” Steve said. “The guy who found her thinks he knows who she is though.”
Nick gently replaced the sheet and touched her forehead for a moment out of respect before standing and glancing around the scene.
“Who found her?” he asked.
“Carriage driver,” Steve replied. “He’s pretty upset about it but we did manage to get a few details from him.”
He flipped open his notebook.
“He found her around 7:30 AM when he came down here to take a leak after securing his horse on Central Park South. He claims he saw her a few weeks ago when she did a photo shoot with the horse and carriages, so he thinks she’s a model.”
“Can you confirm his story?”
“We have him at the station now and we’re checking into it,” Steve replied.
“Let’s do a search on all Manhattan Modeling agencies and find out if anyone is ah…missing a girl.”
“I’ll get on it,” Steve turned away.
Nick scoped the area around the victim who was currently being processed by the coroner before being placed in a body bag. He couldn’t see anything that might have been left by the sick bastard who had done this, but he scanned the area for any possible clue. There were no signs of a struggle, no clothes or anything that would indicate a crime had been committed here. The perpetrator had brought his victim here and placed her deliberately in this spot. How did he manage to sneak her into this particular part of the park? He must have known she’d be discovered right away as she was just a few yards off a very popular walking path.
“We got a hit,” Steve said returning to Nick’s side. “Her fingerprints match those belonging to a Rita Wood, aka Regina Max. She’s a model all right, signed with Ellis Modeling over on Fifth Avenue.”
“That was fast,” Nick said, raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected to have an ID before the body left the park.
“They reported her missing this morning. She’s been missing since Tuesday but it wasn’t until her agent saw the news and put two and two together. She sent over the copy she had of her driver’s license and bingo.”
“Damn,” Nick said and headed over to where the coroner was zipping up the body bag.
“What do you estimate TOD?” he asked.
“I won’t know for sure until I get her on my table, but from preliminary examination of the condition of the body I’d say she’s been dead for about eight hours. That would put the time of death at 1 or 2 AM,” the coroner said. “I’ll have more for you later today once I’ve had a chance to do the autopsy and do a liver temp.”
“Thanks, Doc. Let me know when you’ve got something I can use.”
Turning away, Nick walked back to the spot where the body had been and