Death of an Immortal (20 page)

“Did you have to do that?”

Jamie was at the window, looking a little disturbed. She still had a bit of human empathy, Horsham reminded himself. It wasn’t her fault.

“He was calling the police,” he said.

She was staring at the body of the girl, who was maybe a couple of years younger than Sylvie, her little sister. “Their lives are short,” he said curtly. “You’ll understand that soon enough.”

She must have found a change of clothing in her old boyfriend’s house, because she was dressed in some Kmart special of a dress and a bulky coat. He grimaced at the lack of style, then looked down at the blood that covered his magnificent and very expensive suit. He rummaged through the dead man’s closet and found some nondescript trousers and dress shirts. Reluctantly, he put on a pair of the pants and one of the shirts.

“Is there a mall around here?” he asked. “I need to get some real clothes.”

“Yeah, just north of town. On our way,” she said. She perked up, still human enough to be excited by shopping.

#

The mall was open until eleven o’clock, and they got there just in time.

The clothing store clerk was by himself; the stores on either side had already closed. He looked annoyed as they walked in, but as both customers began piling up expensive clothing, he started getting excited. Working on commission, Horsham assumed.

He was probably a high school kid. He had a bad complexion and sallow skin, greasy blond hair, and bloodshot eyes. He’d probably been toking a bit in the back of the store on a slow night.

Horsham knew his own sizes exactly and knew what he was looking for. There wasn’t much available, but some classic lines never went out of style, and he loaded up with them after first dressing himself in a better outfit.

At first, Jamie tried on a couple of demure dresses, but Horsham sat back on the dressing room bench and shook his head. “You’re a beautiful girl. You’ve got a great body. Show it off!”

He surreptitiously pushed the dressing room door open as she tried on something much more daring. As he expected, the clerk was hovering outside, trying not to look but unable to look away.

Horsham egged Jamie on as she tried on ever more daring clothing, convincing her that the outfits needed to be tighter and more revealing. The young man couldn’t hide his interest. Jamie was transforming from a nice-looking small-town girl into someone much more glamorous and sexy, like someone out of a rock video.

When she had picked out enough of a wardrobe to last her for a while, Horsham sent her with the cart to the front desk. She was wearing the sexiest outfit he could convince her to wear: leggings, a short skirt, and a tight blouse.

“Hey, kid. I really appreciate your staying late for us. I’d like to give you a tip.” Horsham was still sitting on the dressing room bench, considerately folding the rejected clothing. The clerk didn’t suspect a thing.

The vampire had already eaten enough for a month, and this pimple-faced kid simply wasn’t appealing. He stabbed into the kid’s chest and then twisted, catching the heart with his razor-sharp claws. The kid died looking strangely disappointed, as if he realized he was going to lose out on his big commission.

Horsham searched the clerk’s pockets until he found his car keys, then propped the body in the corner of the dressing room and closed the door so that it locked behind him.

Jamie was laying the clothes on the counter, tags up and easily accessible.
So thoughtful
, Horsham mused. He grabbed a couple of bags and started stuffing the clothes inside them.

“Aren’t you going to pay?” she asked, looking around for the clerk.

“No need,” he said. He dangled the car keys in front of her and smiled.

She looked furious. “I told you!” she shouted. “No more unnecessary killing!”

“Oh, were you planning to pay for this? Because I’m broke at the moment.” It wasn’t true, but he wanted to wake her up to her new lifestyle.

“I know I have to kill to survive,” she said. “But I told you, I want to eat only
bad
people.” She was pouting. She was trying to care, but he could tell that it was meaning less and less to her. She’d learn soon enough. She was no longer human; soon they would mean no more to her than hamburgers had meant to her when she was human herself.

“He
was
bad people,” Horsham said. “These clothes were
way
overpriced.”

Chapter 32

Horsham and Jamie waited just outside the light of the flood lamps, invisible to the naked eye.

The police started loading up around midnight, and an hour later, they were gone. They’d be back in the morning, the vampires overheard them saying to the homeless guys. They cops seemed to know who they were, and their names.

Then it was quiet again. The campfire had been built back up, but Horsham and Jamie were able to get within a few feet of the two remaining men before they were noticed.

“What now?” the taller of the men said when he noticed them, as if tired of all the fuss.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Horsham said, stepping fully into the light. Jamie followed demurely.

But she wasn’t dressed demurely. Horsham might as well have not been there. She was dressed about as daringly as she could get away with in a small town––maybe a little more so.

Her dark blue skirt barely covered her ass, but she was wearing striped black and white leggings, so technically she was decent. Her white blouse was so tight that her breasts threatened to burst out of it. She wore a black choker and shoes with high enough heels that they put a swing in her step. Over it all, she wore a long black coat.
She’s a real vamp
, Horsham thought, delighting in the irony.

Both men stood up upon seeing her. They couldn’t keep themselves from eyeballing every inch of her, top to bottom. The bearded guy literally licked his lips.

“We’re looking for a friend,” she said. “Can you help me out?”

“Anything you want,” the taller man with the shaved head said. “Come on over here, baby, and sit your beautiful ass down. My name’s Mark.”

She walked over, accentuating the swing in her hips a little. Both men were frozen, watching her. She sat down between them and put one hand on each of their knees. “My friend’s name is Terrill––a tall guy, not as tall as Horsham here, but slender. Dressed nicely, though a little worse for wear. Handsome.”

“Well, we haven’t had anyone like that around here,” Mark said. “There was a guy, kind of skinny and tall, but he was a mess. Doubt he was the same guy.”

“What happened to him?” Jamie asked innocently.

Again, both men froze. Finally, the bearded guy said, “You just missed the cops. The guy was killed in a fight.”

They probably expected her to look distressed, but she only smiled. “Where did he go?”

“I just told you, lady. He’s dead.”

Horsham stepped forward and the two homeless men looked startled, as if they had forgotten he was there. “Was he alone?”

The bearded guy looked down at Jamie’s hand on his knee, then up at Horsham’s cruel little smile. He stood up, looking behind him into the darkness as though getting ready to run, seeming to sense that something was wrong.

His more belligerent friend didn’t seem to notice a thing. “I told you, buddy. He’s dead. How’s he going to go anywhere?” He waved off into the desert darkness around them. “He’s under a couple feet of dirt right about now. The coyotes will be taking him if the cops don’t find him first.”

“But someone carried him away,” Horsham said calmly. “Who is this Perry? Where would he go?”

“Like we told the cops, he and Grime probably headed for the homeless shelter in town. It’s too cold to go anywhere else.”

Jamie stood up. “I know where that is.”

The tall man’s hand lingered on her until the last possible second. He sighed.

“Jesus, lady. You’re the biggest prick tease I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, you actually have a prick?” she said, and Horsham winced at her withering tone.

The tall man scowled. He reached into his coat and pulled out a gun. “You know what, lady? I’d have let you go if you hadn’t said that. I’m no rapist. I hate rapists. But you can’t walk into my home looking like that and insulting me. Take off that stupid coat.”

Both of the bums glared at Horsham as if daring him to do something. Now that his friend was holding a gun, the bearded one no longer looked so worried. Horsham decided to watch what Jamie did. His baby vampire was full of surprises.

Jamie’s face was impassive. Then she looked straight at Horsham and smiled, as if to say, “These are what bad guys look like.” He shrugged in response.

She took off the long black coat. She dangled it from one finger and then let it drop onto the crude wooden picnic table.

In the light of the campfire, her blouse was see-through. She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“Now the blouse,” said the man with the gun.

She took it off slowly, teasingly. Then, without being asked, she dropped her skirt. She was naked except for the striped leggings.

“Come over here, bitch. I’ll show you what a prick looks like.”

As she walked over, Mark stood up and dropped his pants. He handed the gun over to Harve. “Hold onto this.”

Harve lowered the weapon on Horsham, who still hadn’t moved and was standing there with an ironic smile on his face. The bearded bum looked as though he was having second thoughts, but managed to mutter, “Save some of that for me, Mark.”

Jamie stood in front of Mark. Horsham saw the transformation from behind. There was a slight movement at the back of her head, as if it had changed shape. Her claws extended, reached up, and wrapped around the man’s head. Then blood was shooting into the air and the human was screaming.

Horsham leaped forward. Harve managed to get off one shaky shot that hit the vampire in the shoulder, and then his body was dropping to the ground, spouting blood from the gory stump where his head had once been. His head rolled out of the circle of firelight, a surprised expression still on his face.

After feeding, Jamie poured the contents of the white water bottles over her until she was completely clean. Then she put her clothes back on and whirled around in the light of the dying flames.

She laughed. “Good thing they asked me to take my clothes off. I like this outfit.”

Chapter 33

After taking the motel clerk’s statement, Brosterhouse drove back to the police station. It looked deserted. He made his way to Captain Anderson’s office. He was surprised to find the old man was still there.

The door was open, but Brosterhouse knocked on the frame anyway before going in. “What’s going on?”

The captain jumped at the sound of Brosterhouse’s deep voice. He’d been staring into space. “Wow, you surprised me,” he said. He shook his head tiredly. “There was a stabbing out at a homeless camp. We don’t have that many murders around here, and it brought out every cop on duty.” He checked his watch briskly, as if to say, “This better be important.”

“What can I do for you, detective?”

When Brosterhouse detailed what he’d found, Anderson didn’t seem very surprised. “It’s suspicious, all right,” he said. “But I’m not sure there is enough evidence there to pursue it. We’re talking about a cop, one of our own. I think we need more evidence than that.”

“I agree, captain. But there is enough for a search warrant, surely.”

“Ordinarily, I’d say no. But with Carlan? Let me see what I can do.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Judge? This is Captain Anderson. I need a quick search warrant, and I need it to be quiet. It’s for a cop. What’s that? Well, as a matter of fact it
is
for Richard Carlan… Yes, sir. I’ll send Detective Brosterhouse right over.”

He hung up and gave Brosterhouse a glum look, as if realizing what an unusual thing they were doing. He scribbled on a notepad and tore off the note. “Judge Parrish will be waiting for you at this address. We’re lucky. Carlan is going to be busy this evening, what with the stabbing. Right now would be a good time to make the search.”

“Right.”

“Oh, and Brosterhouse? If you don’t find anything, maybe we could just keep it quiet?”

“I’m not sure,” Brosterhouse said. He wasn’t about to break the rules for anyone, even a fellow policeman. He left without another word.

On the way out, he poked his head into the squad room. There were only a couple of officers there, but one of them was Patterson.

“Patterson!” he shouted. “With me!”

#

Judge Parrish was waiting by the door when Brosterhouse pulled up. “Stay here,” he told Patterson, and hurried up to the doorway.

“I’ve always kind of thought Carlan was dirty,” the judge said by way of a greeting. “This doesn’t surprise me at all.”

He held the warrant out, but held onto it for a second as Brosterhouse reached for it. “I hope you’re right about this, or there will be hell to pay.”

“Yes, sir,” Brosterhouse said, and Parrish let go of the papers.

The detective turned and left without another word.

#

When they pulled up to Richard Carlan’s house, Patterson looked pale. “What are we doing here?”

“Just what it looks like; we’re serving a search warrant.”

“Shouldn’t we wait until Carlan is home?” Patterson asked, obviously hoping to delay the unpleasant task.

“Well, maybe we can be in and out before anyone knows we were here,” Brosterhouse offered. It was bullshit, but the young cop seemed to buy it. Brosterhouse would be leaving a copy of the warrant on the table, as legally required.

The back door was unlocked. They entered and quickly made their way to the office. It was a mess, and Brosterhouse left Patterson to start searching through the mass of papers.

“What are we looking for?” the patrolman asked.

“Anything,” Brosterhouse said. “If you see anything that relates to Jamie Lee Howe, let out a holler.”

He chose the bedroom, which in his experience was the place most miscreants hid things.