Did you hear the one about the zombie PI, dead set on solving his cases?
McGoo read the reticence on my face. “Yeah, I miss the old days, Shamble, when we were just everyday guys, you and me. But now that you’re, you know, dead, it’s awkward talking to you.” He looked serious again. “Did you get the ballistics and autopsy report I sent over? Any clues?”
My own autopsy report. “I read through it, but nothing rang any bells.”
I’m not a squeamish person, but I had a tough time even looking at the crime scene photos: my body sprawled facedown in the alley, blood pooling all around my head. Some bastard had done that to me. . . .
“If I come up with any leads, I’ll let you know.” I stepped closer to my client. “Right now Mr. Fennerman’s my priority.”
Sheldon gave me a thin-lipped smile, and his tiny fangs protruded. We headed off to his place.
Chapter 5
It would be hard to say what section qualified as the “seedy” part of the Quarter. Unnaturals have different sensibilities about that sort of thing. Many haunters, underground dwellers, sewer jockeys, and walking dead don’t mind ramshackle appearances, piled garbage, or thick shadows; in fact, some landlords charge a premium for particularly run-down buildings, on the assumption that it “adds atmosphere.”
Whatever the definition, I knew we had found the seedy part of town. Sheldon Fennerman lived there. Definitely an odd location for a decorator.
He led me to an old brownstone, and we went down three steps to his front door, several feet below sidewalk level, as if the underground tunnels were starting to swallow the building. Stout iron bars fronted Sheldon’s door; another set covered each of the two painted-over windows. Looking back and forth, convinced we were being followed, Sheldon told me to stay close. He dug in his overcoat, fished out a crowded key ring. The keys rattled as he held them in his shaky hands. He worked one dead bolt, then the next, then three more until he had unlocked all five of them. I heard a click, and he pushed open the door. “Quick, come inside!”
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Fennerman. Anyone who comes after you has to get through me first.” I realized that would have sounded more reassuring if I myself hadn’t been gunned down in an alley.
After I followed the vampire into his apartment, he slammed the door, hooked the chains, and threw all five of the dead bolts. “Home, sweet home.” At last, Sheldon let out a huge sigh of relief. “It’s not fair. Hoodlums, vandals, and murderers can just break in wherever they want, but vampires have to be invited into someone’s home.”
I frowned. “I thought the by-invitation rule applies only if the person is actually a homeowner. Vampires can enter rental properties at will.” Robin had done an analysis six months ago for a breaking-and-entering case.
Sheldon groaned. “Now, that’s a nuance I wasn’t aware of. Something else to worry about!”
The vampire’s apartment was a dim place with burnt-orange shag carpeting and blocky dark-stained Mediterranean-style furniture. Although Sheldon was a recent inductee into the ranks of the undead, I got the impression that he wanted people to think he had been turned into a vampire back in the early 1970s. A framed poster on the wall showed a kitten dangling from a branch, with the encouraging words Hang in There! For an interior decorator, he had an unusual sense of style.
“Let’s do a quick security sweep, Mr. Fennerman.”
“Sheldon, please.”
“Of course, Sheldon. Looks like you’ve already taken most of the first-step precautions I’d recommend. How many exits do you have?”
“Just the front entrance and a small back door that leads to an alley.”
“Could be a point of vulnerability. Bad guys would rather break in through a dark alley than the front door in plain view. Let’s check your windows.”
I made a full inspection of the premises and found no obvious weak points. The window bars were secure, and both the front and back doors had durable locks. “You’ve done a good job by yourself, Sheldon. No one’s going to get in here easily.”
“But I still don’t feel safe! What about the sharpened stakes on my doorstep? Once, there was even a wooden mallet! And the disappearing neighbors? Somebody hates vampires, Mr. Chambeaux, but I have no idea who or why. Haven’t they read Twilight?”
“I’ll see if I can get any leads on who’s behind this, and Officer McGoohan will keep an eye out when he walks the beat. I’ll follow up on the Straight Edgers, even do a stakeout—if you’ll excuse the expression—possibly tomorrow, depending on my other cases.”
“Oh, I feel safer already,” Sheldon said, beaming. “So many of my vampire friends—my book club buddies and dinner club companions—they’ve just vanished, one after another. No sign of a scuffle and no bodies. They must have turned to dust. And I’m sure I’m next.”
“You’re not next, Sheldon, because you hired me. I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
The vampire grew as warm and fuzzy as a werewolf under a heat lamp. “I knew I could count on you, Mr. Chambeaux. And now that you’re here, why not stay for dinner?” On a small kitchenette table he’d set out a red enameled pot, two place mats, red linen napkins, and long forks at each place setting. “I love fondue, don’t you?”
“Fondue?” I was more of a sandwich sort of guy.
“A very civilized dinner for special occasions. Just little bites. Bread and cheese . . . bouillon, or hot oil—I can make whatever you prefer.”
I figured that the best thing I could do for Sheldon right now was to start nosing around. “Thank you, but I’ve got a lot of cases to work on—including yours. I’ve got investigating to do.” And a 3:00 appointment at the embalmer.
He looked crestfallen. “Of course. I should have realized. Everyone’s so busy these days. I started a bridge club for my neighbor vampires, but it was difficult to keep them coming back. I guess they just weren’t that interested in cards. My next idea was a book club to discuss the latest best sellers, but that didn’t go well either. Maybe I should have chosen more literary books?” He let out a wistful sigh. “We had a dinner club, and I even tried to arrange ballroom dancing lessons for everyone. And outings! Did you know that groups can charter a leather-upholstered hearse for a guided tour of the Quarter? Tinted windows, of course. I thought that would be so much fun! But nobody showed up.”
“You did all this for your neighbors?” I began to have my doubts.
“Someone had to act as the vampires’ social director. Otherwise they’d get lonely.”