Murder in Vein (2010) (8 page)

"I saw Doug kill the man who kidnapped me," she said to
Pauline without turning around.

Pauline moved closer to Madison but didn't touch her. "You
forget about that now, Madison," she instructed. "Sometimes the
Dedhams kill, but they never do it wantonly like some vampires
or like those you've seen on TV. If they have to end a life, it's
for a good reason and usually with considerable thought and
regret" When Madison didn't respond, she continued. "Would
you rather they'd left you to die? Because as I understand it, it
was either that scum or you."

Madison looked down at the keys in her hand. Pauline
noticed and could read her thoughts of flight as if they were
stamped in ink on the girl's scraped forehead. She placed a dark,
rough hand on Madison's shoulder. "The Dedhams are good
people, Madison."

"But they're not people, are they?" Madison turned to look
into the eyes of the housekeeper. "Not really."

"At one time they were alive." Pauline moved the hand to
touch her own chest. "I know in my heart they were good people
then and try to be good people now, even when the dark side of
their circumstance leads them in a different direction."

The two women stood face to face in silence for a moment
before Pauline spoke again. When she did, her tone was respectful and quiet. "My family has served Douglas Dedham for over
two hundred years."

Madison's eyes widened, silently urging Pauline to continue.
"It started when Mr. D saved my ancestor, Micah Johnson, from
the hands of an evil and sadistic slave trader. Mr. D took him
in, trained him as his personal valet, and educated him. In those
days, it was dangerous to educate slaves. Mr. D did it himself
in secret. From that point on, someone in my family has been employed by Mr. D to see to his needs." She paused for emphasis.
"And keep his secret."

Pauline picked up a cloth and started wiping down the spotless counter as she talked. "Before me, it was my Aunt Izzy. After
me, either my cousin Sara or my niece Keisha will work here in
my place. Both help around here now. Even my husband does
things for the Dedhams." She looked up at Madison. "Through
the years, my family has been completely loyal to Douglas Dedham, and now to Dodie, and we've been the better for it."

adison studied the photographs spread across the Dedhams' kitchen table. "Sorry," she said without looking up.
"I've got nothing."

Mike Notchey paced the tile floor. Today he was dressed in
a dark rumpled suit. As soon as he'd come into the house, he'd
removed his jacket and loosened his tie. To Madison, he looked
younger than he had the night before. He still sported the haggard look, but today he was clean shaven. Madison downgraded
her estimate of his age to mid-thirties.

The detective stopped pacing and leaned against the counter,
where just a few hours earlier Pauline had stood giving Madison
the skinny on the Dedham house. "You're sure?" he asked.

Madison shrugged. "One of them might have come into the
diner at some time. Who knows, all of them could have-Auntie
Em's is very popular, especially during the lunch rush. It picks up
a lot of business from Sony and some of the other studios during
the day."

"The day? I thought you worked the night shift?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Except for the times I had class," she explained. "I worked
whatever hours they threw at me."

A spark of interest ignited in Notchey's eyes. "Did you have
any normal hours? You know, hours that might be considered a
regular schedule?"

Madison gave it some thought before answering. "Up until
Labor Day, I worked mostly the day shift." Madison repositioned
herself in her chair and crossed her legs. "You see, the tips were
always better during the week at lunch. On the weekends, it's
the yuppie Sunday brunch crowd that tipped best. Evenings
were slow, with mostly older, less trendy customers who didn't
tip well. Saturday nights were the worst, especially later in the
evening as people came out of the clubs drunk and in search of
food. Kyle likes to spread the schedule evenly so that his waitstaff
all have a shot at decent tips. He's good that way, but he always
put his best staff down for lunch, to serve the important studio
crowd."

"And you were once one of his best? Did you fall from
grace?"

"I am his best," Madison said with assurance. "And up until
this fall, I always worked the lunch shift four days a week and
Sunday brunch. Until then, I was taking night classes at the community college, but there was a class I wanted this semester that
was only offered Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day. Tuesdays I already had off. When I asked if I could switch my Thursday with the guy who worked Saturday breakfast, Kyle told me
that the woman who worked Friday and Saturday nights was
leaving and I could have her Saturday night shift."

"So you worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday during
the day, and Saturday night, and then came back again early
on Sunday for brunch? That's a pretty grueling schedule on the
weekend."

Madison shook her head. "Because of Saturday evening, he
switched me with someone else on Sunday. I lost the brunch
hours and worked Sunday late afternoon through dinner. We
closed earlier on Sundays."

Notchey hung his head in confusion and frustration. "Okay,
let me get this straight. It wasn't until after Labor Day when you
started working Saturday evenings?"

"That's right. I lost some good tips, but I got to take the class
I wanted." Madison's mouth took a nose dive. "Seems now it
was for nothing. Might lose the job and the class-guess it will
depend on how much time I spend hanging out here."

"Did you call your boss? Maybe you won't lose your job."

"I called him this morning." Madison's shoulders sagged. "He
said he could give me the week, but after that he'd have to find a
replacement. He said he'd call Evie to see if she would work a few
shifts just until I get back." She looked up at Notchey. "Evie's the
waitress who used to work just Friday and Saturday nights."

Mike didn't comment but continued with his line of questioning. "It's early October, so you'd only worked a couple of Saturday nights before you were grabbed by Piper."

Madison crossed her arms and considered the timing. "So
what does that mean?"

"It could mean Piper wasn't stalking you for very long, or
it could mean nothing." Notchey moved over to the table and
placed both of his hands flat on it while he faced Madison.
"Think hard, Madison. Do you recall Bobby Piper being in the restaurant any specific day or time? And do you recall seeing him
before you switched to Saturday and Sunday evenings?"

Avoiding the scrape on her forehead, Madison combed a
hand through her long hair while she dug deep into her recent
memory. "Come to think of it, I don't recall seeing him except
for those nights. He was kind of scruffy-and not in a hip way.
He would have stood out in the film crowd. And we knew our
weekday regulars pretty well-who they were and what they ate.
Kissing Hollywood asses meant bigger tips."

As soon as she said the words, Madison looked around for
Pauline, then relaxed when she remembered that the formidable
housekeeper had left two hours earlier.

Notchey pressed, "And you're sure he wasn't part of that
crowd?"

"Pretty positive. And he certainly wasn't part of the usual
Sunday brunch clientele." She looked down at the photos on the
table. There were about a dozen candid photos of people of various ages. Two were of women. All the people in the pictures wore
looks of intensity and brooding like they were mad at the world,
and they probably were. Several were dressed in the goth style.

"Who are these people?" she asked.

Mike picked up his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.
He clutched it in his hands and started to answer, then motioned
for her to follow him out the back door.

Once they were on the patio, Mike pulled a lighter from his
pants pocket and lit up. Leaning against a support post, he took a
deep drag of the cigarette and looked out at the trees beyond the
property line. Madison sat on a chair in the sun, soaking in the
warmth from the rays, and waited.

"I don't know how much Pauline Speakes told you about the
Dedhams," he began, "or about the local vampire community."

After taking another deep drag, he stubbed out the cigarette
on the bottom of his shoe. Making sure it was out, he put it back
into the pack and put the pack into his pocket. He glanced up
and saw Madison watching him with interest.

"I used to be a two-pack-a-day guy," he explained. "Now
I'm down to ten puffs a day. Guess that's progress. Feels like
shit, though" He leaned against the post. "Sorry I didn't offer
you one, but the Dedhams hate cigarette smoke. So if you do
smoke, might as well get used to not having it while you're here.
Although Doug does enjoy a good cigar once in a while, but only
outside."

"No problem," she told him. "Never been a smoker. Don't
drink either."

"No booze, no butts. Probably don't do drugs."

She shook her head. "Seen the damage those things can do
to people." Madison recalled some bad memories, then just as
quickly shook them off. "And to the people around them. Especially booze and drugs."

Mike eyed her. "Guess your only vice is rolling drunks."

Madison puffed with indignation. "That tune's getting old,
Notchey. I told you that was another time, another place." She
hugged her arms protectively around herself.

"You cold?" Mike asked. "You want to go back inside?"

She shook her head. "It's a little cool, but I'm okay. I like it
out here. Topanga, I mean. Sometimes I come out here to hike.
Never thought for a minute I might die here." She let loose a low,
tinny laugh. "Certainly never thought vampires lived here-or
anywhere else, for that matter. Not for real."

She went quiet, and Mike gave her some space. Shortly, she
turned to him. "Pauline didn't say anything about vampires in
general. She mostly gave me a list of do's and don'ts about living
here. Told me some of the things the Dedhams like to do-about
how nice they are. She seems very loyal to them. If they weren't
vampires, they'd be too perfect."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Mike said, still watching Madison, "if
Pauline was willing to take a bullet for them."

"Would that be a silver bullet?"

A small smile crossed the detective's face. He turned away as
if embarrassed by it.

"And how about you?" Madison asked. "Would you take a
bullet for them? Or have you already?"

Mike Notchey jerked his head in Madison's direction but
didn't say anything.

"Pauline told me that Dodie nursed you back to health after
you'd been shot."

He nodded and stared into her eyes as he spoke, his emotions
raw and just below the surface. "Happened a couple of years ago.
But the bullet was meant for me, not them. And it wasn't silver, it
was a cop killer."

"I'm sorry." Madison looked away, giving them each another
gap of privacy before speaking again. "Pauline didn't tell me anything about any vampire community. But the Dedhams told me
last night that if I talked to anyone about them or what I learned
about other vampires, I'd be killed."

When Mike didn't respond, she turned to him, brown eyes
blazing with both fear and anger. "That true?"

"Yes," he answered, looking straight back at her, leaving no
doubt as to the accuracy of his response.

Madison stood up and stalked over to Notchey. She faced
him, their bodies just inches apart. "You said I'd be safe here"
Her voice was low but accusing. "You said they wouldn't hurt
me." Jaw set, mouth tight, she glared at him, the heat from her
eyes demanding an explanation. Her black eye looked particularly menacing.

"They won't, but beyond the two of them it's complicated.
Just keep your mouth shut and you'll be fine," he told her. "And
when you do meet other vampires, stay close to Doug and Dodie.
They're well respected."