He looked disgusted for a moment, as if I’d asked him where his hamburger comes from, and then his face stilled as he remembered something. “There is a human servant who organizes things for their little community—he does these parties, and I think he runs some other events as well. His name is James Rucker.” Gregory pulled out a cell phone and scrolled through the contact list, leaning over so Cruz could copy down a number. “I believe he also spends quite a bit of time at the Copper Room. Bald, with a beard.”
“Thank you, Gregory,” I said deferentially, and nodded to Cruz. We stood up. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be on our way.”
He stood up, too. “Of course. But, Scarlett?”
I looked back at him, and that same complicated look shadowed his face.
“Next time? Call first.”
Chapter 14
The Copper Room is sort of the ugly, unwanted stepchild of the LA vamp hangouts. A lot of the pathetic vamparazzi show up there every night, telling stories and drinking cranberry-vodkas. (Get it?) The actual vampires consider it incredibly uncool—it’s in Long Beach, for crying out loud—but if they’re desperate for a pickup, they occasionally show, one or two a night. If a vamp does work up the courage to show his face at the Copper Room, he’ll have his pick of the vampire hangers-on, which isn’t saying much, but whatever. Blood is blood, I guess. Suddenly, I wondered if that was true—did different people taste different? It hadn’t occurred to me. I’d have to ask Beatrice sometime.
Meanwhile, for everyone else, the food is crappy and the failed actors/waitstaff have all crossed the line into bitter and hostile. On the bright side, I had no trouble finding street parking.
“Whoa,” Cruz said under his breath as I led him toward the door. A neon Bar and Grill sign flickered unsteadily in the window, and it was hard to avoid the carpet of cigarette butts in the entryway. “This is it? This is...wow.”
I shrugged, pulling open the door. “It can’t all be glamour and roses, cupcake, even with the fanged set.”
We walked into the dim entryway, and I told the bored-looking waitress we’d be in the bar area. It was big and dingy, with those extra-tall tables and stools surrounding a beaten-up pool table and a filmy big-screen TV. There were six or seven people scattered about, and when we walked in, seven pairs of eyes glanced up, hoping for a vampire, before returning to their drinks. Apparently, something about Cruz and me screamed, Still alive! When I got a little farther into the room, I understood the desperation. There wasn’t a single vampire in the bar.
It was after midnight now, and they were all looking a little defensive and drunk, like the homely girl who’s sat on the bleachers for the entire school dance.
“Díos,” Cruz said under his breath. “You’re right. This is depressing.”
We sat at one of the too-tall tables, and Cruz gave the barmaid a big grin, which had her hustling right over. I tried very hard not to roll my eyes, but to her credit, when she got a good look at my face, she did a classic double take, then glared over at Cruz. I opened my mouth to correct her assumption, but what was I going to say? Car accident? Doorknob? Anything I came up with—short of “a vampire hit me in the face”—would sound like a lame cover-up. We ordered beer and Diet Coke, and I was pretty sure the barmaid spit in his bottle of Heineken. I chose not to comment.
While she was getting Cruz’s change, I scanned the people at the bar.
“There,” I said, nudging him and nodding discreetly toward a completely bald, bearded man wearing a ribbed tank top under a khaki button-down shirt. The guy had left the shirt open to display a not-so-small paunch. He was with three others, telling an animated story while they laughed. The ringleader.
“I got this one,” Cruz told me under his breath.
I shrugged.
Cruz walked right up to Rucker and pulled out his badge. “Mr. Rucker? Could I have a word with you?”
Rucker’s mouth dropped open in the middle of a sentence. When he recovered, his face smoothed back into alpha-geek mode. “I guess,” he said casually, as if he consulted on police cases every day. He nodded to his friends, who retreated to a far corner of the barroom to gossip.
After they’d left, I went up and dropped onto a stool beside Rucker. Cruz took the other side again.
“What do the police want with me?” Rucker asked, a little pompously. “Am I behind on my gas and electric or something?”
“Actually,” Cruz replied, putting away his badge, “we’re looking into some murders that happened in La Brea Park the other night. Did you hear about that?”
Rucker sobered instantly. “Yes,” he said. “We heard. It’s terrible.”
“We’re looking for the three human servants of the vampires that died,” I added. I recited their names again. “Do you know any of them?”
But Rucker was peering at my face. “I know who you are,” he said, “but who is this guy? How much does he know?” His voice was sharp, suddenly edgy. Human servants are conditioned very hard not to talk about their extracurricular activities. It’s the first rule of Vampire Club.
“He’s with me, and Dashiell okayed it,” I told him, trying to look stern.
I don’t think stern is my best look, but his eyes widened when I said the name Dashiell, as if I’d said we were on a mission from God. Which probably wasn’t far off, from Rucker’s point of view. He took a quick gulp of his cranberry-vodka and nodded.
“I know all of them.” He pursed his lips, thinking. “But I don’t think they can help. Grottum and Myles split town, from what I heard.”
“Why?” Cruz asked. “Did they think they were in danger?”
Rucker shrugged. “They didn’t know. None of us in the community”—he twirled a finger to include the other vampire freaks in the bar—“know why those guys were killed, so why risk it? Probably, they just wanted to play it safe.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“No.”
“What about the other one?” I asked. “Freedner.”
“He’s still around, I think. But I doubt he can tell you anything I can’t.” There was a note of broken pride in his voice, which Cruz picked up on.
“What makes you say that?” he asked.
Rucker’s face blanched, and he huddled into himself a little. “Nothing. Never mind.”
Cruz glanced at me. I took the hint.