Always the Vampire

“Cesca tells me you’re planning to open a bed-and-breakfast inn, Mr. Clarke. We may need to discuss that project.”


“Of course,” Clarence replied, “though we’re having a difficult go of it, finding the right property at the right price. Much as we like this area, we’re looking farther south and inland. But I’m keeping you from your shopping.”

He broke off and pulled a card from his sports jacket pocket. “We often house hunt at night, but call and we’ll be happy to receive you.”

Saber nodded his thanks, and the Clarke’s started down the aisle when I stopped them.

“If Gorman is following you everywhere, he’ll talk to your real estate agent. Does she know your natures?”

Melda grinned. “We told her that we sleep late, have doctor appointments in the early afternoon, and nap after that.”

“And she bought it?”

Melda chortled. “Of course, dear. We’re old.”

The couple toddled off, and I turned to Saber.

“I’m beginning to wish I aged.”

“Why?”

“I have a feeling seniors get away with murder.”





We got out of the store with our party goods, but without a major purchase like the blender I had my eye on for Maggie. That baby did everything but turn into a butler and serve smoothies on a silver platter, but I restrained myself. With only a toy added to the cart for Snowball, we were out of there.

Saber’s huge refrigerator-freezer held all the food we bought with room left over. I did a little maintenance house cleaning while he checked on the hot tub to be sure his repair had taken. We wouldn’t be using the tub for the party. We wouldn’t have time since the gift opening was scheduled to coincide with the football game halftime. But, hey, I know better than to get between Saber and one of his projects.

The moon shone a silver sliver, the stars twinkled brightly, and the night was mellow. After arriving at my cottage at nine, Saber and Snowball played with her new toy while I checked my costumes for the next ghost tours to make sure they were clean.

At ten, we snuggled on the couch to watch the Cary Grant romantic comedy Father Goose on TV.

At 10:08 Saber’s cell phone rang.

A quick look at the readout, and Saber answered and activated the speaker.

“Mrs. Tidwell? Are you all right?”

“No, Mr. Saber, I’m not. I know this is a huge imposition, but Lynn is insisting I call. I told her about your visit when I spoke with her this afternoon, and an hour ago she came home very ill and terribly distraught. She won’t let me take her to the hospital. She only wants to see you. I’m at my wits’ end.”

Saber shot me a grim look, the same one I felt on my face.

“Mrs. Tidwell, Kate, what are Lynn’s symptoms?”

“Chills, mood swings, anxiety. Her breath smells foul. Is there a history of this kind of thing in her biological family?”

“I’d have to check, but I think I can help.”

“Oh, would you come tonight? I’m not just afraid for my daughter, Mr. Saber. I’m truly terrified.”





FIFTEEN




I shucked my shorts for jeans, threw a tan T-shirt over my bra-top camisole, and shoved my feet into sneakers. With food and water in Snowball’s bowls and the alarm shut off, Saber and I took off for Ormond Beach within five minutes of Kate Tidwell’s call.

“This could be a trap,” Saber had warned before we left.

“Nice try, but you know I’m coming along. If it will make you feel better, though, I’ll call Cosmil from the road. Tell him what’s up and have him peer into his crystal ball for signs of danger.”

“And if he says it’s a trap?”

“We go in stealth-mode, and I’ll have your back.”

“You watched too much NCIS while I was gone.”

Cosmil’s concern on the phone was palpable, but he saw nothing but danger to Lynn in his find-the-truth spell. Or whatever he called it. Maybe I’d be in training long enough to learn the lingo, maybe not.

We arrived at Kate Tidwell’s home forty minutes later. The modest home boasted lovely landscaping with uplighting on the magnolia trees flanking each side of the center front door. I had a moment to wonder if we should have gloves and masks before Saber pressed the doorbell.

Mrs. Tidwell answered so fast, I was sure she’d been on the lookout for us. Or rather for Saber. She barely glanced at me.

“Thank God you’re here,” she exclaimed when she threw open the door. “Lynn’s in her old bedroom.”

Kate limped slightly as she led the way past a formal living room to a den, and then into a hallway. Short and pleasantly plump, she wore a green knit pants outfit and off-white house shoes on her swollen feet. Her dark hair had gray streaks at the temples that were likely growing grayer by the minute.

At the open bedroom door, we all paused. Lynn sat on the edge of her bed, head down, arms wrapped around her stomach. Her cutoff jeans and pastel purple T-shirt seemed too big for her thin body, and her silver blond hair hung limp at her shoulders as she fretfully rocked and twitched and moaned.

“Lynn, here’s Mr. Saber. And—” She looked at me blankly.