“Can you blame them?” Steffan asked during his latest call. “We’ve had two fatal fights. Tempers are running high. If we don’t get a lid on this, the community’s going to blow.”
Ari tapped a pencil on her kitchen table. She’d been writing her reports to the Council. “I wonder if the situation is as bad with the vampires.”
“Haven’t heard from Andreas, huh?”
“Not since Sunday. Doubt if I will. He was pretty pissed, only I’m still not sure why.” She’d already told Steffan about the parking lot confrontation. “I guess we have to assume Prince Daron’s got things under control.”
After they disconnected, Ari debated calling Andreas to break the ice. An update on the vampire situation would be good, but she had another, more pressing reason. With the crisis deepening, she needed to make contact with the Canadian wolves. An interview with the mysterious she-wolf seemed like the perfect excuse, and Ari still thought Andreas could make that happen. The vampire hadn’t withdrawn his promise to help. Of course, he hadn’t renewed it either. And his distrust of her couldn’t have been more obvious. She put her phone away, not yet ready to have him refuse the call. Maybe if she gave him more time.
Too restless to finish the reports, she decided to pursue another angle. While Ryan talked with the narc squad, Ari wanted to tap community sources on the drug angle. She wished she’d paid closer attention when Fantasy
was all over the media. As she recalled,
The Clarion
had printed a series of articles. She called the newspaper’s general number. They transferred her to the crime desk to talk with reporter Eddie West.
When he answered the phone, Ari explained who she was and what she wanted. “I need to know everything you can tell me about Fantasy. Where it came from, who’s selling it. Everything.”
“Sure, I can do that,” the reporter said. “It’ll take awhile, and I’m starving. Want to meet at the Daily Diner? I’ll even let you buy. And maybe you can tell me why the Magic Council is interested in the drug traffic.”
Ari chuckled. The guy had his own style. Half an hour later, she entered an unpretentious establishment that might have been situated in any small town, USA. A dozen booths. Half as many tables. Vinyl floor. A white-haired couple drank coffee at one of the tables. A forty-something female sat alone in a booth, her attention on the door. The only other occupant was a freckle-faced young man grinning at Ari from a corner booth. He looked seventeen. He waved.
“Over here,” he said. “I’m Eddie.”
He read her surprise, for as soon as she slid into the seat, he added, “I’m twenty-four. People always mistake me for a teen. Someday looking younger will be a good deal. Right now it’s a drag.”
She grinned at his boyish admission. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t sweat it. Hope you don’t mind, but I ordered. Haven’t eaten since breakfast. You want something?”
She said a Diet Coke would be great.
His brown eyes gave Ari the once-over. A guy look. “You don’t look much like my idea of a Guardian.”
“No? What did you expect?”
“Big, tough looking. Lots of weapons. You’re just a cute blonde.”
Ari rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. As you said, assumptions are such a drag.”
Eddie laughed. “OK, you got me. My mistake. And my turn to apologize.”
His rib sandwich, fries, and shake arrived. Ari ordered her drink and watched in amusement as he took the edge off his hunger. He put down the half-eaten sandwich and wiped the sauce from his mouth. “Sure you don’t want some? Best rib sandwich in town.”
“No, really, I’m fine. But about the drugs?”
“Are you going to tell me why you want to know?”
“We’ll see,” she hedged. Not if she didn’t have to.
He shrugged, and in between bites, he began to talk about the articles. “First heard about Fantasy when this woman called me at work. About five months ago. Her son OD’d. He’d flunked out of college and brought the stuff home with him. She thought
The Clarion
should be warning other parents. I was curious, so I asked around. The drug had been in Riverdale two months and already caused three overdoses. That’s when I started writing the series.”
“Where’s the drug coming from?”
“Both coasts, and now here in the Midwest. Her son was in a small college in Alabama.”
“So, everywhere,” she said. “New York, LA, Timbuktu. What about local distributers?”
He scratched his chin and eyed her. “Got some ideas. Maybe Otherworlders. No proof yet. Maybe you know something.” He paused, as if inviting a comment, then continued. “I had an informant. Good connections, but her boyfriend killed her before we got that far.”
“What?” Ari straightened in her seat and stared at him. “What informant?” Riverdale didn’t have that many murders. Not the kind the public and press knew about. “Are you talking about Angela Raymond?” Ari scooted forward on the bench. “She was working for you, wasn’t she? Why didn’t you come forward and tell the police after she died?”
“Hey, calm down. Why do you care if she was working for me?”
“You’re the source of the cash,” Ari continued unabated. “You did pay her in cash, didn’t you? Hundred dollar bills?”
“Yeah, I did.” His brows drew into a deep frown. “Is that significant?”
“Don’t you get it?” Ari stopped. She needed to be careful what she said to the press. “Everything about a victim is important,” she finished, keeping it vague.
Eddie’d already caught the implication. He shook his head vigorously. “No, uh-uh. If you think she was killed because of her undercover work, you’re wrong. It was the boyfriend. Some domestic thing. I talked with neighbors the night she died. And the PD didn’t deny it when I asked for an official comment. I didn’t mention she was a source, because…well, it’s confidential. And it didn’t seem to matter.” His jaw set in a stubborn line, but his voice had lost confidence. “Nobody knew she worked for me. I swear. Nobody. I never mentioned her name. Not even to my editor.”
“Let’s back up a minute,” Ari said. She’d rather have him helping the investigation than wallowing in unproductive guilt. “We’re still investigating. No one’s under arrest, but maybe you’re right about the boyfriend. Everything we know about Angela will help us nail the right killer.”
“Wow, I can’t believe it.” Eddie propped his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. “I sure hope the boyfriend did it. But I can tell you don’t think so.”
When he looked at Ari, she saw the doubt on his face. She was tempted to say something, maybe even something reassuring, but he’d already begun to talk again.
“Angie saw the first article I wrote on Fantasy. She called me, wanting to know how much I’d pay for inside information. She promised details. Users, dealers. I asked how she knew this stuff, and that’s when she got really vague. Said she hung around the Olde Town bars and heard stuff. But her timing couldn’t have been better. I’d used all my data on the one article, and my editor was salivating for more. Suddenly I had visions of an award-winning series.”
“So you said you were interested.” Ari tried to hurry the story along.
He gave her a rueful look. “You bet I was interested. Especially if she could lead me to the suppliers. Front page stuff. And the Otherworld connection was major headlines. Told her I’d pay $500 a pop for anything she got. And I did.” Eddie signaled the waitress and had his Coke refilled.
“Frankly, Angie was a gold mine,” he continued. “She provided the info I used in the rest of the series, from the street price on Fantasy to its availability in the local bars. Her interviews with users were priceless. Great descriptions of how the drug affected each of them.” He glanced at Ari. “Your greatest dreams in a capsule. That’s what they said. Angie was good at getting people to talk. She might have had a career in this field.”
Eddie looked pensive but continued his story. “But she wasn’t smart about how she did it. She got her information by hanging out in dangerous places, like the Otherworld bars. And with dangerous people. I warned her about the vamp boyfriend.”
“Was the boyfriend or Club Dintero involved in the drugs?”
“Club Dintero? You think Andreas is part of this? That’s something I never expected.”
“Stop it, Eddie! No. I wasn’t saying that. But her boyfriend works there. I just wanted to be sure the club was clean.” Ari reminded herself again to be cautious around the reporter. He picked up on everything. “How do you know Andreas?”
Eddie gave her a quizzical look. “Everyone knows Andreas. He’s a popular singer.
The Clarion
has run a couple of pieces on the club. And I can’t believe he’d have anything to do with the drug trade.”
Interesting. Andreas had a public face outside the magic community. She’d bet they’d never glimpsed the angry vampire who confronted her in the bar parking lot. But she wasn’t going to think about him now. She shrugged, hoping to signal her loss of interest in the subject of Andreas and his club.
“You never gave me an answer about Victor, the boyfriend,” she said. “Involved or not?”
“Don’t know. Angie never came through with the names. I assumed he was. Although, come to think of it, he didn’t give her the sample she brought to me. She mentioned a werewolf friend.”
Ari probed for specifics on the wolf connection, but Eddie didn’t have any more details to give. “So what happened to the sample? You still have it?”
Eddie shook his head. “It was all used. By the lab,” he added hurriedly. “I’ll do a lot to get a good story, but I don’t do drugs. There were two capsules. A private lab used both in the confirmation analysis. It was Fantasy.”
“We’ll need a copy of the report. Can you get it to Lt. Foster at the PD?”
“Sure. No problem, but why?”
“To compare it with the drugs we have.”
“Looking for…?” He let the question dangle.
Ari considered how much to share. If she didn’t tell him something, he might start guessing. And nosing around. She didn’t want any part of their conversation on tomorrow’s front page, but maybe she could make a deal that would benefit everybody. Eyes and ears in the human community might come in handy, and he was familiar with the drug trade. “I’ll tell you, if it’s off the record. Can you handle that?”
Eddie wrinkled his nose. “When you can release the story, will you call me first?”
“
If
we can release it,” she amended. “Yes, I don’t see why not.”
“I have your word?”
“As long as I have yours.”
“OK, off the record for now. But I’ll hold you to that phone call.”
Ari sketched the history of the earlier Otherworld attacks. Eddie had heard most of the details. Except the drug connection. When she added that an altered form of Fantasy
might be responsible for the vampires’ violence, he jerked up straight.
“Holy shit.” He barely breathed the words. “Someone has found a way to make drugs that affect vampires. What a story!” Ari could almost see the headlines running through his head. “But you won’t find the proof in my sample. I read every word of the lab report. No unidentified substance. I’d have jumped all over that. Wow, has this ever happened before?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“You wouldn’t consider changing your mind about this being off the record, would you?” He grinned at her, because he already knew the answer.
She said it anyway. “Not a chance.”
“That’s too bad. Story of a life time with my byline in big letters.” He leaned back and looked at her. “The vamps were hopped up on Fantasy.”
Ari sighed and played with the straw in her drink. “It’s not confirmed, but, yes, it’s a possibility. One I don’t want to read in the paper.”
“Kind of scary people’s fantasies are killing them, huh?”
“Don’t even say that. The violence might just be a side effect.” She gave him her best cop face. “And don’t even think about printing it.”
“Hey, I got it. Don’t worry. Much as I’d love to rush this into print, we have a deal.” The grin returned. “I wouldn’t jeopardize a huge story.” He tilted his head to one side. “You know, the last time I spoke with Angie, maybe a week before she died, she hinted about something new she was checking into. I thought she meant a different drug.”
Ari followed his train of thought. “But it could have been the altered Fantasy.”
“And maybe that’s what got her killed.” Eddie picked at the last of his fries. “I guess it
was
her work for me.”
“You’re not responsible,” Ari said. “Angela lived a wild lifestyle, took a lot of risks. She got in over her head this time. That’s what got her killed. And whether you paid her or not didn’t change anything.”
Ari left him seated in the booth, staring into space, occupied by his inner demons. He didn’t notice when she stopped and paid the bill.
Chapter Twelve
Ari couldn’t wait to share the news with Ryan, but she caught him in a foul mood.
“Dammit, Ari. What’s the matter with my department?”
He was putting in long hours and made no secret he felt harried about the vamp murders. He grumped that his superiors were pressuring him to close the case, stamped ‘random vampire violence.’ With both suspects dead, police officials didn’t want to waste further resources. Ryan thought he had a duty to resolve the matter.
“If someone triggered the vamps, with drugs or whatever, I’ve got to stop them. Or this just happens again. Right? One human dead this time. How many the next? Command’s making a bad decision.”
Since Ryan was on the lower end of the food chain in the police hierarchy, Ari and Ryan both knew who’d win the argument. He figured they had another twenty-four hours before his chief ordered him to shut down the investigation.
Ari interrupted, hoping she could cheer him with the information on Angela’s undercover work. He wasn’t very enthusiastic.
“And how’s this get us closer to naming her killer? We can’t prove a damn thing. Victor, Simpson, the she-wolf, some unknown druggie or dealer…any or all of them could have been Angela’s source. And decided to keep her quiet.” Ryan’s frustration seeped through the phone. “I don’t know, Ari. It could also be somebody we haven’t heard of. I’m going home and have a beer. Maybe I’ll feel different when I’ve thought it over.”