“So?”
“It’s a less violent crime.”
“If you consider extensive damage and DIE spray-painted on your tailgate less violent.”
“Who has reason to trash my truck? Only Gorman. He threatened me, and he hates vampires, but, oops, he was gone.”
“Everyone else in town
likes
vampires? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Are you going to carp or help?”
“Carry on, Sherlock.”
I crossed my eyes at him but recorded the vandalism. “Now last in this string of events, Gorman is beaten. I didn’t do it, so who did?”
“Too many people to count?”
I couldn’t stop the quick grin at his deadpan expression. “He is repulsive, isn’t he?”
“He’s worse, but I’ll grant you, the beating probably wasn’t random.”
“Okay, then,” I said with a final notation, “we have two murders—”
“And the victims knew each other.”
“Yes, but the vandalism and the beating don’t look connected. So, let’s do a process of elimination.” I folded my hands on the legal pad. “Is it possible Ike or one of his nestmates killed Rachelle?”
“If they had, there wouldn’t have been a body to find.”
I made a face. He was right. “Are the Daytona Beach police pursuing the case?”
“For all intents, no. They called me according to procedure and dumped it in my lap.”
“Did you interview Ike?”
He threw me a dark look. “Where are you going with this?”
“We have two dead women connected by their past.”
“Not to mention their broken necks and the .22 silver slugs in their brains.”
“Which is odd, too. For a vampire, sure, the bullet has to be silver. For Yolette?”
“Maybe the killer forgot to change ammo.”
“Or just didn’t bother, but silver isn’t dirt cheap, and breaking a neck isn’t easy. It’d have to be someone with military training.”
“That’s not a given, but it’s a good premise.”
“Saber, what about the autopsy? Weren’t there any handy finger or hand bruises on the victims?”
“To indicate how large the hands that snapped the necks were?” he said with a grin. “No. Both women’s faces and bodies in general had some pre-and postmortem bruising, but nothing to give us a lead. The toxicology tests won ’t be back for at least another week.”
“Damn. All right then,” I pressed on, picking up my pen. “Who gains what by killing these women, and who’d know how to break a neck? Let’s start with Gorman. There were guns at his house, correct?”
“Which he insists were planted.”
“Is there a ballistics match, or do you know yet?”
“The results will be in by Monday, but even if there’s a match, I don’t think he did it.”
“I agree. Also, there’s no way he’d get close enough to Yolette or Rachelle to break their necks.”
“Rachelle was shot first.”
“Fine,” I said scribbling another note, “but Gorman wouldn’t use a little pistol to shoot her. He’d use something bigger, like an elephant gun.”
“Or a rocket launcher.”
“And he’d take pictures and brag about it.”
“But his alibi holds, so who’s next?”
I put a big
X
over Gorman and skimmed down. “There’s Millie and Mick, but they’re both off the list, too.”
“Millie, yes. Why eliminate Mick?”
“Don’t start on Mick.”
“He has ties to the Daytona Beach vampires, and he’s ex-military.”
I raised a brow. “Really?”
“Navy,” Saber said.
“But he doesn’t really have ties, Saber. He has a history with them that would keep him far, far away from the nest. He wouldn’t work for Ike in a billion years.”
Saber didn’t look sold but said, “Go on.”
“Gomer aka Holland aka Eugene the PI.”
“He knew exactly where the Fourniers were staying.”
“But Millie’s no fool. She hired a reputable PI, not an assassin. Although, ” I added, tapping a nail on the table, “Ike could’ve hired him to investigate Rachelle’s death.”
“Not likely. Vampires might enslave or enthrall, but they don’t look in the freaking phone book for a PI.”
I look in the phone book for all sorts of things, but I let it go. “Maybe Ike saw Eugene following Yolette and glommed on to him that way.”
“That’s possible.”
“But it still doesn’t make sense that Eugene would kill Yolette. Not for Millie
or
for Ike.”
“You’re right. Ike would want the killer brought to him for some old-fashioned vampire justice.”
I knew from the past what that could mean, and Ike’s reputation wasn’t any kinder or gentler than King Normand’s.
“So why don’t you call Ike and ask him about Eugene?”
He pointedly cut his gaze to the living room windows. “It’s still light out. Ike won’t be up for at least an hour, and—” He stopped and gave me an odd look. “What time’s the tour tonight?”
“Nine to about ten thirty. Why?”
“We could go see Ike after that.”
“We who? I’m not going anywhere near him.”
“Oh, come on, you’ve never met your closest vampire neighbors.”
“And I never want to. I told you that.” I tapped the pen on the pad. “Let’s get back to our suspects. Etienne. What have you found out about him? Does he have an alibi? Is he really grieving? Has he demanded Yolette’s remains yet?”
“Whoa,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “Slow down before you hang the guy. First, he does have an alibi.”
“What, pray tell?”
“He was fishing.”
I blinked. “With a nor’easter coming in? I don’t think so.”
“He went inland, over around Gainesville. Lake fishing.”
I wondered how far inland the lake wind warnings went. Since I watch more HGTV than the Weather Channel, I had no clue.
“He has witnesses, I suppose?”
“Yep. He arranged in advance to rent a boat, and the guy working the marina signed it out to him at six fifteen. The only wrinkle in his story is that he was supposed to have been at the marina by five in the morning. He was over an hour late.”
“Time enough to kill Yolette?”
“Technically, but he says he took a wrong turn, and that is possible. He showed us on a map where he went the wrong way.”
I stared at him. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”
“What? That he knew where he made the wrong turn?”
“That he consulted a map at all. Maggie says men are notorious for not following maps or asking for directions.”
His lips quirked. “In a foreign country, even men use maps.”
“What about the body? Is he having her cremated?”
“To destroy some other evidence, you mean?” He shook his head. “He’s been patient, but that may not last long. He says he wants to take her home, and so far there’s no other physical evidence in the house or car—or on her body—other than what there should be.”
“No handy blood-soaked clothing or fibers under her fingernails, huh?” I said, disappointed.
“Nada. As for background, we don’t know as much about Etienne as we’d like to. He’s thirty-five, born in Paris, married Yolette a little over a month ago.”
“Is he well off?”
“He’s comfortable enough.” He cocked his head. “You think he killed Yolette for her money?”
I chewed the tip of my thumbnail. “I don’t know. Etienne could’ve killed Yolette for her money, but I don’t know why he’d kill Rachelle.”
Saber frowned and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe she was a threat of some kind. Maybe she’d been blackmailing Yolette because Yolette really did kill James Peters.”
“So Yolette and Etienne kill Rachelle to get rid of the loose end. It could’ve been planned, or they could’ve run into her in Daytona and jumped at the opportunity to kill her.”
“That only works if they could get Rachelle alone and get the drop on her.”
“Do the Daytona vampires travel in packs?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then it wouldn’t be that hard to get her alone. Maybe they promised her a big payoff to lure her somewhere. Where
was
her body found?”
“On the beach about two hours before dawn. Some spring breakers stumbled over her.”
“Had she been in the water? I mean Yolette washed up, but she didn’t look like she’d been in the water long.”
“More mystery novel trivia?”
“Will you just answer me?”
“Rachelle wasn’t in the water at all, except for the waves washing over her.”
“So we’re down to Etienne, but there’s no evidence.”
“That’s the size of it.”
“It stinks.”
“Yeah, but we can’t charge him without evidence.”
I looked at the notes spread on the table. “There has to be a piece we’re missing.” I tapped my pen on one name and circled it. “We need to talk to Eugene. He’s been reporting to Millie since before James died. He has to know more than we do.”
Three things happened at once. The timer dinged, the house phone rang, and Saber ’s cell vibrated across the table. I grabbed the cordless, eyed the caller ID, and greeted Maggie as I dashed to the kitchen to turn off the noisy timer.
“You sound out of breath,” Maggie said as Saber disappeared down the hall, the cell to his ear.
“Just a little. How’s Tallahassee?”
“Fun, actually. I found the most marvelous salvage yard and junk store. How about you? Is Saber still there? What happened with Stony?”
“His name is Victor Gorman, and it turned out he had an alibi, so Saber’s still here.”
“And you’re good with that?” Maggie sounded half suspicious, half incredulous. “I mean, do you feel safe?”
I thought back to this afternoon when he’d seen me in my sleepwear. There was safe, then there was safe from myself.
“Cesca, you’re not answering me.”
“Oh, sorry, I just realized I didn’t get the mail yet. Yes, it’s fine. I’m safe and sound.”
“Really?”
“Maggie, I promise. How was Neil’s seminar?”
“He’s in hog heaven. We have another meet and greet at the university at eight. Oh, and he ’s been asked to check a dig site a little west of here tomorrow morning, so we may be back later Sunday than I thought.”
“No problem. I don’t have a tour, so I’ll probably stay in and study or—” I broke off when I heard Neil in the background.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if you went shopping for a new surfboard yet.”
“Haven’t had time. Why?”
“Something about good waves next week. He’s finally coming out of the bathroom. Gotta go. Take care, and I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
I put the unit back on the charger and headed down the hall to see if Saber was still on the cell. He was, judging by the one-way conversation I heard through the closed door. I might’ve eavesdropped, but I had hair to tame with a flatiron that wasn’t hot yet. Keeping one ear peeled for Saber’s voice or footsteps, I refreshed my makeup, took my Minorcan costume out of the closet, and went back to the bathroom to brush out tangles.
I leaned over from the waist to get to some snarls at my nape —they’re the worst—when Saber said, “Guess who that was?”
I jerked up and whirled toward his voice. The hairbrush flew into the wall, and I fell back against the countertop.
“Geez, Saber, you startled me.”
“Maybe you should have your vampire hearing checked.”
“Or my head examined,” I muttered and swept my brush off the tiled floor.
“Are you guessing who called?”
“Eugene Cassidy, PI.”
“Yes, but the cell connection was bad. We’re meeting him after your tour tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, suddenly nervous.
Sexy Saber was standing in my bathroom doorway, which is in my bedroom suite, which is where my bed is. My bed with my huge stuffed dolphin and my other personal touches. I felt an intimacy creep around us. Darkened rooms, hushed voices, my light musk scent and his stronger one entwined.
He must’ve felt the charge, too. He cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll go eat something while you get ready.”
“Right, good. I’ll, uh, be ready to leave here at eight thirty.”
He nodded and took off, as Maggie would say, like a scalded cat.
So why was I the one who felt burned?
SIXTEEN
It was a perfect, balmy night in paradise as Saber and I walked up St. George Street to meet my tour group. The stars shone bright in the unpolluted skies, the moon was waxing, and soon my psychic senses would be as normal as they get. But not soon enough to prepare me for what waited at the waterwheel.
Vampires.
Damn. No wonder the street was eerily empty. My bad that I didn’t notice sooner. I stumbled to a stop a quarter block away. Saber halted, too, and swore under his breath. Four vampires and the blood bunnies Cici and Claire, all of them dressed in assorted tight, black leather outfits, waited at the tour substation. At the center of the group stood the vampire who had to be Ike. He looked part Asian, part African American, his hair military buzz short and his face clean-shaven. Compared to the strong line of his jaw, his lips were almost feminine, but his snake eyes were the color of deepest hell.
Janie and Mick in their usual tour guide costumes also stood sentinel at the station. I heard Janie’s heartbeat flutter like the wings of a trapped bird, and Mick was darn near hyperventilating with agitation. A second later, he spotted us, grabbed Janie ’s hand, and hurried toward Saber and me.
I had a bad feeling that got worse as I looked past my friends at Ike.
The weight of his gaze settled on me like black ooze, and my skin prickled and crawled until I wanted to claw at my arms. As I stared, Ike languidly lifted a beringed hand and curled his fingers. Janie ’s steps faltered. Her tight expression slackened, and the fear in her eyes drained to nothing. In seconds my friend’s vitality bled away. She pivoted and appeared to float back toward Ike before I could think to move.
Mick was faster. He wheeled after her yelling, “Janie, no!”
Ike said one word, “Tower,” and an impossibly tall black male vamp held out his hand like a traffic cop to freeze Mick in his tracks.
Saber’s breath hitched, and mine stopped, as Janie’s shell snuggled her back against Ike’s chest and exposed her neck. Ike flashed fangs and ran a finger across Janie’s collarbone, but his gaze stayed locked on mine.
“God
damn
it, he’s grandstanding.” Saber whispered viciously. “I hate it when they do this.”