La Vida Vampire

“That hasn’t been ascertained yet.”


“I did not vandalize my own truck,” I said through gritted teeth. “I just had her repainted and detailed, and it wasn’t cheap. And you,” I added, pointing at Saber, “told me last night you didn’t believe I’d done it. Why would you change your mind?”

Saber gave me a long look. “You have plenty of money. A small fortune, judging by the balance in your bank accounts. You could get that truck fixed ten times over and not feel the pinch.”

“Except that I happen to have even more sense than I do money. I take care of my things. I save for the long afterlife I plan to enjoy.”

I didn’t know what fixing my SSR would cost but consoled myself thinking that it could ’ve been worse. It could’ve been bombed and set to go off with me in it. Or with people going in and out of the bank parking lot. Yep, it could’ve been much worse.

“Who knows what kind a vehicle you drive?” March asked.

I answered slowly, thinking. “Let’s see, Maggie, Neil, the paint and body shop guys. The bridge club ladies.”

“Janie? Mick?” Saber prompted.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure they know.”

“What about Holland?” March asked.

“Not unless he saw me driving it.” I looked at Saber. “You haven’t located him yet?”

“The only Holland Peters we’ve found,” March answered, “died five years ago in Tulsa.”

My jaw dropped again. “Why would he give me a false name?”

“I don’t know,” March said, “but we need a description.”

I gave as accurate a description of Gomer ( so not Holland Peters) as I could—right down to a small mole on the left side of his jaw. I hadn’t remembered that until I pictured him in detail.

I also remembered why fishing had rung a faint bell. While Gomer had hung at the back of Tuesday ’s tour with Stony, I’d eavesdropped every little while. Not that you could call it a conversation, but I overheard Stony say something about trips to deepsea fish. Specific times or places I didn’t hear, but Gomer would’ve. Who else could have heard the exchange? And, big, huge, this-one’s-for-all-the-money question, who would kill Yolette, implicate me, and frame Stony?

“Ms. Marinelli,” March said, rather loudly since he was right next to me.

“Yes, what?”

“I understand your roommate and her boyfriend left for the weekend.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’ve not rented a car?”

“What, are you offering a loaner?”

He rolled his eyes, the first true flash of humor I’d seen from him today.

“I’m offering a deal. I can’t hold Mr. Gorman. No matter what else he has or hasn’t done, we don’t believe his threats against you are idle. In fact, he admitted hearing about the murder and coming back early specifically to hunt you down. For your safety, I’ve requested that Special Investigator Saber stay with you for the time being.”

“Oh, but I’m calling a girlfriend to stay with me.”

“Janie Freeman?”

I nodded.

March shook his head. “It won’t do. Ms. Freeman is a witness, and she won’t be any help protecting you if the need arises.”

He turned off the tape recorder and closed the file with my name on it. “You need to be guarded.”

“What you mean is, I’m still a suspect.”

He inclined his head. “Take it as you like. Either Saber stays with you or you can be a guest of the county.”

I didn’t know if he could make that threat stick, but I do know when not to push my luck.



Afterlife is full of challenges. I was stuck with Saber, but I’d deal with his surly attitude. I’d hunker down in my room and have as little as possible to do with him.

No chance for my libido to go haywire.

Much.

In the parking lot on the way to his SUV, Saber told me he’d already checked out of his hotel and would take me straight to the penthouse. As we settled into his Vue, I glanced at the digital clock on the dashboard. Seven o ’clock. Good. Traffic might have thinned by now, which meant less time stuck only touching distance away from the man. And, if he’d cooperate, I’d still make dance class. I’d like to be in control of some thing again.

“I don’t suppose,” he said as we cut off U.S. 1 to take the downtown route, “you have food in the fridge.”

“Probably not. Maggie eats out and makes sandwiches a lot.” I stole a glance at his profile. “You could go eat while I’m taking my salsa class.”

He shook his head. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“No problem. The class is taught in a restaurant. You like Spanish food?”

We stopped at the light where A1A cut over to Vilano Beach, like the twentieth car in line. So much for traffic thinning. Saber edged his aviator shades down his nose and looked over the rims at me. “You’re not even going to try to make this assignment easy, are you?”

I shrugged. “Where’s the hardship in eating out?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“You’re the one who agreed to play jailer.”