Kiss of Death (20 page)

“No.”

“What about Brian Taylor?”

“Yes, of course. He's one of the producers on
Stars Like Us
.”

“Sherry Taylor is his daughter. Do you know Mr. Taylor personally?”

“Oh, God, that's terrible.” She takes a few moments. “I did a poster for his TV show last season. Met him once at the briefing. That's it. After that everything was handled by my boss.”

“Where were you on Saturday night?”

“Bar Sinister, of course.”

“You go every week?”

“Most weeks.”

“What time did you get there?”

“Probably about ten-thirty. And we left around two in the morning.”

“And then?”

“We came back here and stayed the night.”

“Who's we?”

“Paula, Anton and myself. We often share Anton.”

“I see.” Sloan is silent for a few beats before saying, “We're almost done.”

“Good.” Teresa blows out some air. “I'm almost finished with my drink.”

“The clothes you're wearing, did you buy them yourself?”

“Sure. Anton sometimes buys members clothes, particularly the donors who don't seem to have the vamp style like we do. And he always buys us clothes on our anniversary date.”

“Of joining?”

“Yes.”

“Lastly, do you have any tattoos?”

“Why?”

“Just answer the question, please.” Sloan keeps her voice soft and polite.

“Yeah, I've got one on my butt.” She gives a flirtatious
giggle. “You wanna see it, Detective?” Her tone is raspy and suggestive.

“I'm good.” If Sloan is shocked in any way, she doesn't show it. “What's it of?”

“The After Dark logo. We all have it.”

“Really? Same location?”

“No. You can put it wherever you want.”

I have to think about this information objectively—Ward is basically branding his members, marking his territory and marking the members as
his.
And that's not good.

Sloan takes another sip of coffee. “Well, it's been enlightening, Ms. Somers. Thanks for your time.”

“Thank you.”

I hear Teresa's heels on the floor.

“Sorry, Ms. Somers. There is one other thing.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever been to Temescal Gateway Park or Topanga State Park?”

There's a long pause. “That's our outdoor location for the initiation ceremonies.” She sighs. “I know we're not supposed to go there, but it's close and private. But we weren't there on the weekend.”

Teresa must have seen the news. Yet she's still admitted that the location is frequented by her, and the group. Is she stupid or just innocent?

My BlackBerry beeps—I've received a message from Damien Winters on Facebook. I open up my account and am reading the message when a chat window pops up.

 

Winters1:
Hi there. We're finally online together

LadyVeronica:
Hi.

Winters1:
So, you said you're new to L.A.?

LadyVeronica:
That's right. Moved here a couple of months ago.

Winters1:
Welcome to the City of Angels…and vamps.

LadyVeronica:
Thanks.

Winters1:
I like your pics. You really are gorgeous.

LadyVeronica:
Thanks. You're not so bad yourself

Winters1:
Can't believe you've been in L.A. for two months and Sunday was your first time at Malediction Society.

LadyVeronica:
I know…hopeless. Don't know many people here yet.

Winters1:
We should hook up before Friday.

LadyVeronica:
That'd be great…but a little strange, huh? I've only just “met” you.

Winters1:
Everyone meets online these days.

LadyVeronica:
True.

Winters1:
You free tonight? Somewhere public and safe

 

I really don't want to wait until Friday, but tonight is out. Who knows how long I'll be in with Anton Ward, and then there's Darren. I'm already pushing his patience.

 

LadyVeronica:
Tonight's no good. How about tomorrow?

Winters1:
Are you sure you can't make tonight?

LadyVeronica:
Sorry, no.

Winters1:
That's a pity. Let's talk again tomor
row. I've got something on, but should be able to rearrange it.

LadyVeronica:
Okay. Sorry.

Winters1:
That's okay. Speak to you then.

LadyVeronica:
Bye.

 

When I tune back into Sloan's wire, there's silence. She's waiting for the next After Dark member.

Monday, 11:00 p.m.

S
loan, Carey and I sit in the car around the corner from Ward's house. Half an hour ago Mercedes arrived with a new dress for me, boots, my Goth makeup and my wig. Apparently Darren wasn't in the best of moods when Mercedes stopped by for the gear, but I'll deal with that particular problem when I get home.

“I wonder what's going on in there now.” Carey looks at the house, perhaps a little wistfully.

“We all know what's going on in there, Carey.” Sloan's voice is dismissive. “Certainly if the members I spoke to are anything to go by.”

“Don't say that.” I stare at the house. “I've got to go in soon.”

Sloan laughs but then says, “You don't have to, Anderson.”

“The party officially started half an hour ago.” Plus I'm dying to see Anton again…not that I'd tell them that.

“So they're probably not all having sex…if a party's just started.” Carey grins.

I force a smile. “Very reassuring.”

We're silent for a few moments.

“You think the whole vampire thing is just an excuse for their sexual desires, Anderson?” Sloan asks.

I shift back into objective psychologist mode. “Maybe for a handful of them.”

“What about Anton Ward…that lucky bastard gets to have sex with hot women whenever he wants.”

Sloan shakes her head. “What's your wife's number again, Carey?”

I go back to the question. “Most of the members Sloan interviewed recounted their first blood experience as their first time at the sexual act,” I say. “Teresa Somers is a prime example.” I look down at my notes and move on to the next person, Cliff Chow. Reading my notes and thinking about the members helps to settle the nervous excitement. “And Cliff Chow's first sexual experience was with an older woman who liked it a little rough. She bit his lip while kissing him and he associated the taste of blood with the excitement of arousal and his first sexual experience.”

“I had similar responses.” Carey turns around in his seat. “They all either had a first sexual experience that tied in with blood, or they were introduced to blood by sexual partners.”

I nod. “Only one of the members Sloan interviewed seemed to have a genuine fascination with drinking blood that
didn't
stem from sexual experiences.”

“At least their fascination with blood and sex hasn't been channeled into rape and murder,” Sloan says.

“Maybe it has.” I stare at the mansion. I don't want Ward to be mixed up in this but I can't ignore the fact that After Dark, or some members of the group, could be our perps. “Did you like anyone for it?”

Sloan scrunches up her face. “Perry Kinder was kinda creepy, but creepiness doesn't mean killer. What about you, Carey?”

Carey shrugs. “No one stuck out to me. Putting the makeup, clothes and those contacts aside, most of the members seemed kinda regular.” He laughs. “Man, that gave me a fright when we walked in that door.”

“Oh, now I get it.” I smile. “That's what you guys responded to.”

“Uh-huh.” Carey shakes his head. “They were all wearing bright yellow contacts. You'd better prepare yourself for it, Anderson. It's pretty freaky.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” I bite my lip. “A lot of the members probably lead double lives. Regular Joes nine to five, then blood-and-sex-starved Goths out of hours. Interesting that Ward does criminal checks on them all. Can't wait to put their names in our database and see what comes up.”

“You think Sherry's killer has done it before?”

“I've already done a ViCAP search with no matches. But it's possible a previous victim's body was never found or that the murder case wasn't logged in the ViCAP system.”

Sloan crosses her arms. “Surely a homicide cop would put a case with such an unusual MO into the system.”

“I'd hope so.” I take a breath. “It did occur to me that we could be looking not at a past member or current member, but at someone who was rejected.”

No one likes rejection and we all respond to it in varying intensities. For most of us it affects our self-esteem and can make us a little depressed or angry. But for some people it could tip them over the edge. An unstable mind faced with rejection is capable of anything, even murder. The number of people killed by jilted lovers is enough to prove that.

“I think we should ask Ward for a list of all the people who've been unsuccessfully put forward for membership in the past year,” I say.

Carey lets out an annoyed groan. “We seem to be
expanding our pool of suspects rather than narrowing them down.”

“They can't all be open-and-shut, Carey.” Sloan glares at him. “Hope we're not taxing your intellect too much.”

Carey doesn't take the bait. “I wouldn't call interviewing After Dark members taxing.”

“Just remember, Carey, one of those people could be our killer.” Sloan is serious now, but her voice is soft with none of the abruptness she sometimes conveys when speaking to Carey.

“You're right.” He sighs. “But I still don't like any of the nine people I just interviewed as viable suspects, or any of Carrington's women.”

Sloan tilts her head. “Who
do
you like?”

“Maybe we haven't come across the killer yet.”

It's a possibility. Sometimes we run into the killer very early on during an investigation—it's just a matter of realizing that person is our perp and gathering enough evidence to charge them. And other times we never actually meet the killer—or if we do, we don't realize it.

Sloan lets out a contemplative sigh. “Maybe. And I still don't know if it's anyone from this vampire world. Most of them are just like kids playing dress up.”

I decide to take the plunge. “I definitely think Sherry was killed during some sort of vampire ritual and I'll be drafting my offender profile on that basis tomorrow.”

Sloan lets out a whistle. “Sounds a bit premature to me. We haven't confirmed Sherry's whereabouts on Saturday night from 9:00 p.m. until midnight, and her movements from midnight to 1:00 a.m. are based on one person's account, with no witnesses.” She shakes her head. “Are you sure about this, Anderson?”

I'm ninety-nine percent sure, but I don't want to verbalize that. “I think the profile could help us, help us narrow down
who
from within the L.A. vamp community might
be responsible. Who might be able to lead a group of individuals to kill an innocent woman.”

Sloan lets out a breath forcefully. “I don't know, Anderson. There's Carrington and his wife, too, not to mention Desiree.”

“You called in the FBI in case the murder was related to the vampire community or a cult. And I'll provide a profile on that basis. You and Carey should feel free to investigate other areas, too.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And we will.”

My job is to provide the requesting officers with an offender profile…unfortunately what they do with it is up to them. Hopefully they use it to help catch the killer, but at this rate I wouldn't be surprised if Sloan bins it.

I'm silent for a bit, trying to think of the best way to dispel some of the tension, but nothing comes to me.

 

Fifteen minutes later, I'm at the front door of Ward's house, heart pumping.

“Just rang the doorbell,” I whisper, just like Sloan did only a couple of hours earlier.

“Reading you loud and clear.”

Stephen French opens the door, dressed in a dark gray suit with tails. He gives me a bow. “Lady Veronica?”

“Yes.” I put on my American accent. “How did you know?”

“Master Ward told me that he'd invited two new ladies into his circle this evening. Where is your friend?”

I smile. “Crystal couldn't make it.”

Mercedes had wanted to come with me, but I couldn't put her at risk again. She's not a trained field agent and last night was bad enough, given the way things turned out.

French nods. “Come in.”

I follow him down a long hallway lined with wall candleholders, which all burn thick white candles. It certainly
gives the house an otherworldly feel. The floor is slate and my high-heeled boots clip loudly, producing an even greater echo than Carey's and Sloan's shoes combined.

After passing four closed doors on the left, French stops outside the fifth door. He gives two short raps and then opens the door without waiting for an answer.

Everyone turns at once, and I have to stop myself from jumping back. Even though Carey warned me, the effect of so many yellow eyes turning on me is disturbing. It makes me think that maybe Sloan's right—it's just a bunch of kids playing dress up. So why am I drawn to Ward?

Teresa's wearing a figure-hugging Morticia-style black dress and her long red hair is down, draping across her shoulders and contrasting with the milkiness of her skin and the black dress. She's not the only one dressed stylishly—they're all in evening wear, portraying the Victorian Goth rather than the punk Goth. Luckily the dress Mercedes chose during a rushed visit to VampIt holds its own—and fits.

Classical music is playing in the background and the room is lit only by candles and one wrought-iron chandelier in the center of the room, which also houses candles rather than lightbulbs. The furniture is Victorian—plush red and gold couches—and a very large dining room table is pushed back into one corner of the room.

Ward steps forward from behind Teresa and moves toward me. As he passes her, his right hand glides across her waist in a highly sexual manner. However, it wasn't done for my benefit, rather it was an unconscious gesture. While shared sexual partners, and particularly the group's women, being available to the leader is a trait in some NRMs, in the case of After Dark it could also be linked to the culture—vampires, werewolves and all the other fictitious creatures of the night are supposed to be highly erotic beings, driven by a lust for blood, sex, flesh or all
of the above. Looking around the group, which contains a few more women than men, it wouldn't surprise me if the After Dark meetings were really just orgies.

Before I know it, Ward's got my hand in his and is raising it to his lips. “Veronica. So nice to see you.” He breathes out slowly but keeps my hand raised to his mouth so I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. A small shiver travels down my spine.

I smile my most seductive smile. “Thank you, Anton. And thanks for inviting me.” Though in character, it's not that hard to give Ward a seductive smile.

“You're welcome.” He releases my hand and gives his cuffs a precise tug.

Ward's wearing tailored leather pants and a theatrical-looking white shirt, similar to the one from last night. It's teamed with a dark red velvet waistcoat, a large diamond ring and gold-and-diamond cuff links. Again, it's over the top, yet he manages to look stylish and extremely handsome. His skin has the same familiar translucence, however this time his lips look a little redder, his eyebrows a little darker and his eyelashes a little longer. Yet, I can't actually
see
makeup. There's no doubt about it, he's hot.

I cast my eyes around the room. I barely recognize Riley and Davidson from their mug shots and they look much more designer Gothic than I'd envisaged from Carey and Sloan's description. Then again, maybe they're in outfits bought for them by Ward. I take in the room and people properly, determined not to be put off by the glowing eyes. Most of the women are voluptuous and attractive, and their clothes manage to blend Gothic and formal evening wear. Except for one woman in black leather pants teamed with a strapless red bodice, they all wear dresses that show lots of skin and cleavage. Mind you, the woman in the bodice outdoes the other women in the cleavage department. Many of them have tattoos,
including some of the After Dark logo, and all are done up in pale foundation with lashings of dark eyes and lips. No blush or contouring creams in these ladies' makeup bags. Footwear is either long high-heeled boots or very strappy heels, and their hair seems to be mainly long and worn down. Most have black hair, except for Teresa, who glides toward us, obviously a practiced wearer of high heels. As she moves past Ward and closer to me, she runs long black fingernails along his stomach. Within a few steps she's just a couple of inches away from me, intentionally invading my personal space.

“Hi.” She dreamily studies my face and the area around my head.

I keep my cool and resist the urge to take a step back. The contacts, coupled with her speculative yet deliberate gaze, are unnerving. “Hi, Teresa. Nice to see you again. You look…beautiful.” Flattery is the way to a woman's heart and I want to get close to Teresa as well as Ward. I'm still not sure how many appearances I'll be making as Veronica, but I want to make sure each one counts.

Ward steps forward. His arm may be around Teresa, but his penetrating look is focused on me. “It's amazing.” He takes a deep breath. “Better than I'd remembered.”

While this time I'm mostly freaked out, I'm still captivated that Ward can somehow see my gift. It seems less and less likely that he's using his charm or simply telling me what he thinks I want to hear; he seems genuinely amazed.

Teresa looks down. “Anton can't stop talking about your energy.”

She can't be happy with that. Not many women like their man paying another female too much attention.

I give her a smile. “He's exaggerating. I'm nothing special.”

She looks at me and tilts her head to one side. “No. I can feel—” she tries to put a word to it “—something.”

Okay, now I'm totally freaked out. Teresa, too? Are these people somehow more like me than I'd care to admit?

Finally Ward speaks again. “Teresa, why don't you show Veronica around?”

She bows her head. “Certainly.” She takes my hand in hers and leads me back through the hallway.