Page 34 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
“Because it’s nonexistent,” Cristiano taunted as he walked away toward the liquor bar in Mikko’s kitchen.
“Just because I don’t share all the details of my intimate activities, like you do, doesn’t mean I’m not partaking.”
His friend chuckled as he poured himself a splash of bourbon into a tumbler. “Even so, the signs are all there, Mikko. You can’t fool me.”
Mikko didn’t say anything; his insufferable friend was right. “What signs?” he said aloud instead.
But the answer never came.
Looking up, Mikko saw Cristiano with the tumbler poised between the counter and his lips, frozen. In his other hand was his phone.
“What’s wrong?” Mikko asked, abruptly standing. A sinking feeling, one that went past the basic emotions of violation, started creeping in.
“I–uh…Devon texted me…” Cristiano trailed off, setting his glass back down. His hand scrubbed over his face. “He said Ivan’s been found dead.”
The world narrowed to a point, all sound around Mikko fading out before it rushed back in again.
“What?” When Mikko had last seen Ivan, he’d been very muchalive—battered and beaten but still breathing. Besides, Emma had confirmed Ivan had paid his dues and keptBubblegumout of the journalism spotlight. Mikko’s message had been clearly received by the dimwitted man. For the time being, their feud and debt was cleared.
“Yeah, um, he said his body was found inside one of the warehousesalong the waterways,” Cristiano answered. Death was common in his line of work, forever trailing a few steps behind him his whole life, but that didn’t make this news any less surprising. Or less infuriating.
After the past couple days, this was icing on the cake.
“One of ours?” Mikko asked out loud.
“Yes, and it seems he went outgruesomely.”
Mikko’s hand fidgeted with a pen sitting on his desk. “Which property?”
“The one Levi showed the other day.”
“That listing is never going to sell now with this kind of history attached to it,” Mikko lamented.
Cristiano finally took a sip of his alcohol, most likely needing the burn to keep himself centered. His phone pinged again as he asked, “Who did he show it to? Someone we have history with?”
Silky black hair and whiskey hued eyes flashed across his mind. “No one important,” Mikko said.
“You’re positive?” Cristiano asked. His thumb brushed across his phone screen, reading more texts pouring in.
No.“Yes,” Mikko continued, uncertainty cloaking his already weary shoulders. “But you said it was gruesome…”
“Yeah, Devon said the scene was a mess,” his friend cleared his throat, “and that he was mutilated.”
Mikko’s eyebrows raised. “And how was he killed?”
“A gunshot wound to the head.”
“And the mutilation?”
“Well, that’s the weird thing,” Cristiano hesitated, “the mutilation was done post-mortem.”
“A message then, for whoever would find the body and not for torture purposes,” Mikko said.
“It would appear that way, yes.” He continued mumbling under his breath as though Mikko wasn’t there, “at least I hope it was donepost-mortem becausedamn—”
“Where was it, Cristiano?” The use of his friend’s name snapped him back into the present.
“Uh…his face.”
