La Vida Vampire

This time Sandy stifled a chuckle. Saber didn’t.

“Neil Benson? The guy you surf with? The guy you found the body with?” he asked, rapid-fire.

“Yeah, that Neil. The only Neil I know, by the way.”

“You want to hurt him for insulting you, right?”

I blinked. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Saber shrugged and folded his arms over the chair back, nonchalantly as you please. “You’re the one who came unglued just now. You lose your temper often?”

“For your information, that wasn’t unglued, and it wasn’t temper. That was righteous indignation.” I looked pointedly at March. “Detective, you want to go home, and I need to be dressed and at work by eight forty -five. You have questions? Ask them.”

I think his mouth twitched as he looked at his blank pad. Then he was all business.

“Let’s start with this morning. You and Neil went surfing.”

I looked at Sandy. Her expression was stern, but her eyes twinkled as she nodded. I went through the story again, sticking to facts and nailing March with eye contact. He stopped me a few times to question details and jotted notes like mad. Saber straddled the chair, expressionless. I wished I could snatch those darn aviator shades off and see his eyes.

“So you felt something bump your foot, looked down in the water, and saw the body,” March said.

“Correct,” I confirmed for what felt like the tenth time.

“Then Neil suggested towing the victim to shore.”

“He didn’t suggest. He told me we couldn’t leave her and to take her arm and ride her in.”

“And while he removed his leash, you say you hugged the body to your surfboard. Why?”

“To keep it from banging into her.”

“But you didn’t want to do it, right?” Saber said.

“I didn’t want to touch her, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not?”

“Duh. Dead person. Icky.”

“You’re dead.”

“Correction. I have a heartbeat, a pulse, and brain waves. I might be underalive, but I’m not dead.”

He frowned as if he’d never thought of vampires that way.

March cleared his throat. “We’ve been at this awhile. Would either of you like something to drink?” He looked directly at me. “We have artificial blood.”

Sandy audibly gulped—well, audible to me. I declined with my standard response. “I don’t drink in public, but I’ll have a cup of ice, if you have some.”

“Ice. Plain ice?”

I smiled. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”

Saber snorted, in disdain I suppose. An unattractive habit that—pardon the pun—made his sex appeal take a nosedive. March shook his head but went to the door and asked someone who must’ve been hovering for a glass of ice and bottled water. When our refreshments were delivered, March took over again. “Let’s cover the ghost tour on Monday night.”

Again, I went through the events in excruciating detail, including the confrontation with Stony. I did leave out the Jag Queens pulling weapons. I didn’t know the gun laws, and I didn’t want to get them in trouble.

“This man you call Stony,” Saber said, his tone cynical. “He verbally and physically threatened you, and you expect us to believe you didn’t retaliate?”

“I told him he had bad breath.”

Sandy covered another laugh with a cough.

“Describe Stony one more time,” March said.

“About your height,” I told March and jerked my thumb at Saber, “and his attitude. Dark hair, light eyes like blue ice. A scar on the right side of his face from about his ear to the middle of his jaw. Gravelly voice.”

“What about weight? How was he dressed?”

“I’m terrible at estimating weight, but he wasn’t fat. Maybe a hundred seventy pounds? Black turtleneck, black Wrangler jeans, and black tennis shoes. Not high-tops but not low-cut either.”

March thumbed his legal pad and pulled a sheet free. “This the guy?”

He slid a rough artist’s rendering across the table, and I picked it up. “Wow, that’s close. How did you get this?”

“I spoke with Jennie Freeman and Mick Burney.”

“It’s Janie. Janie Freeman. Not Jennie.”

“Right. Anyway, I also talked to the ladies who took the tour and the teenagers. They all confirm your version of the events, including the attack on you, and Stony sticking close to the newlyweds. We worked this up from their descriptions. Is it accurate?”

“I think his nose was a little longer and thinner. His hair might’ve been a little longer, too.”

“Would you work with our artist to refine the drawing?”

“Now?” I pushed the paper back to him.

“Tomorrow will be fine.”

“I can be here at eight.”

He nodded. “Good. Now, is the tour the last time you saw those three people?”

“I told you this morning I saw them at Scarlett’s, then again on the Tuesday night tour.”