La Vida Vampire

“She should.”


“All right, thanks.” March stuffed his notebook and pen in his jacket pocket. “Ms. Marinelli, when did you realize you knew the victim?”

“When I saw her face.”

“And that was?”

“After I called 911 and went back to the beach.”

“You didn’t recognize her in the water?”

“No. We towed her in facedown.”

Detective March shook his head as if looking for holes in our story, which he probably was.

“Anything else you noticed this morning? About anything?”

“I thought I saw a boat past the breakers before we got in the water.”

“What kind?”

“A little one. Like a kayak.” He raised a brow, and I shrugged. “Or it could’ve been a pelican.”

“Did you see it fly off?”

“I didn’t pay attention.”

“Then that’s it for now. We’ll need you to come to the station to make and sign complete statements.”

“Fine,” Neil said. “I can come now, but Cesca will have to sleep first.”

“That true?” March asked.

I shrugged. “I can only be up a few hours after dawn.”

“All right, but don’t leave town. Either of you.”

“I’ll have to go if I get a call on state business.”

“If that happens, Mr. Benson, let us know.” March frowned and looked at me. “Ms. Marinelli, when can you come in?”

“At four or five this afternoon.”

“Good. Maybe the ME will have a report by then.”

I nodded and shut out the mental image of cell doors slamming on me.

“Detective,” Neil called as March turned to leave. “Do you still need our surfboards?”

“For now.” He fished two cards from his shirt pocket and handed one to each of us. “Call, and I’ll let you know about your property.”

When Detective March plodded back down the boardwalk stairs, Neil raked a hand through his hair.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, heading for the parking lot.

I fell into step behind him, wondering how much longer I’d be a free vampire.

“Here’s the plan,” he said as we walked. “You go on back to the penthouse and sleep. I’ll call Maggie at work and fill her in. We’ll get you an attorney.”

“I need a lawyer right now?” I squeaked.

“It’s just a precaution.” We stopped at my truck, and he tossed the towel he’d used onto my passenger seat. “After all, you haven’t done anything wrong, right?”

“Effing right.”

Both his brows hiked to his hairline at my vehemence. “Effing? Fresca, you don’t curse except for an occasional hell and damn. Are you scared about this?”

“Neil, there’s a body with apparent vampire marks on it. I’d met the victim, I found the body, and, oh yeah, I’m a vampire. If nothing else, I’ll be a scapegoat.”

“But you don’t own a gun.”

“How hard are they to get? The Jag Queens have guns, for heaven ’s sake. I don’t need Suspects for Dummies to see where this is going.”

“That’s the smart mouth I know.” He cuffed me on the arm—the right arm that now hurt again. “Don’t worry about it. The attorney will protect your rights while we let the system work.”

He waved and hopped into his jeep. I groaned. Let the system work? Sure. How many times had I read those same words in novels? Enough to know the heroine always had to climb out of hot water by solving the crime herself. So would I…if I had to.



I awoke at three Thursday afternoon to wind, rain, and the shrill ringing of the phone. I rolled over to grab the receiver, but the answering system kicked on before I reached it.

Okay, so I was avoiding the inevitable, but my eyes were gritty and, for the first time since I’d been unearthed, I didn’t feel like bouncing out of bed. Instead, I lay there remembering the morning. Was the gruesome news out? Was I, in fact, the prime suspect? I was supposed to guide a tour at nine thirty, the late shift. Did I still have a job?

The ghost tours ran rain or shine, so I didn’t think a nor’easter would cancel my gig as long as tourists showed up for it. On the bright side, the bad weather would excuse my bad hair, which I probably wouldn’t get completely dry before I had to meet a man about a murder.

On that happy thought, I rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. After a quick wash, I gooped leave-in conditioner on my hair and wrapped it in a towel. Then I hurried to the dorm fridge in the kitchen where I kept my Starbloods. As I had my breakfast, I listened to messages.

One from Neil: Talked to the cops. Detective March seems to be an all right guy, but our boards may not be returned for a while. Call Maggie.