La Vida Vampire

“We have forty-five minutes to get to the sheriff’s office,” I called through the wood panel. I knew he didn’t get more than three hours of sleep, but the amount of growling and grunting from the other side of the door convinced me that Saber, even after a good night’s sleep, was not a morning person. We stopped at the Dunkin’ Donuts on San Marcos for Saber’s coffee fix. He must’ve really needed it, because he didn’t bat an eye when I ordered a French cruller. It was almost worrisome when he didn’t react, so I gave him the pastry after I pinched off some for myself. He humphed and polished off the cruller so fast I doubt he tasted it. I savored my bite. I met with the same sketch artist, Billie Ormand, at eight on the dot, while Saber worked on the computer to find Millie ’s family. Detective March wasn’t in yet, which didn’t surprise me. In the middle of the night at the hospital, it looked like he’d thrown a coat on over a pajama top and pants he’d slept in for three days running.

Billie and I were finished with Gomer ’s likeness by eight thirty. The likeness would be distributed all over Florida and southern Georgia first, then nationwide. Wherever Gomer was, I hoped the sketch turned him up fast. Saber had also been successful, judging by the gleam in his still bloodshot eyes as we left the sheriff ’s office. Either that or the sugar and caffeine had kicked in.

“So, what’d you find out?” I asked as soon as we were buckled in his Saturn Vue. He took the back way, Lewis Speedway, but I didn’t care about the route home. I wanted the scoop.

“The short of it is I traced Millie’s family. Her nephew, James Peters, age twenty-seven, was traveling in France when he met and married Yolette Girard, age thirty. He died about two years ago.”

“How?” I probed, so eager I nearly bounced in my seat. Now we were getting somewhere!

“At the fangs of a vampire involved in a sexual three-for-all with James and Yolette. According to Yolette, the vampire got too rough during sex, but there was some question about the death that was never resolved.”

I rolled the information in my head for a second. “James Peters and Holland Peters. Is that significant?”

He arched a brow. “Good catch. Holland was James’s dad, Millie’s sister’s husband. He died two years before James’s marriage.”

“But why did Gomer use that name?”

“He could be a con man, or he could know Millie.”

I digested that for a second and didn’t like where Saber would probably take it.

“What about Millie’s sister? Is she still living?”

“No. Sarah Upton Peters died a year to the day after the death of her only child. Cancer.”

I sighed. “Poor Millie. To lose her nephew and sister in a year must’ve been devastating.”

“And a possible motive for murder.”

There it was. Saber suspected Millie. “You really think Millie blamed Yolette for James’s death?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“But Millie couldn’t know Yolette would turn up in St. Augustine,” I argued.

“She could if she hired a private investigator to keep track of Yolette. He’d report the marriage and the trip.”

I thought that over. Maggie said Gomer might’ve been an undercover cop, but we didn’t think of him being a PI. Millie a murderer? I still couldn’t see that.

“You said a vampire was blamed for killing James. Female?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to her? Was she executed?”

“She disappeared, and the trail went cold within a week of James’s death. Until now.”

He pulled a piece of paper, folded in quarters, from his inner jacket pocket and handed it to me. “Recognize her?”

I stared at the grainy image, trying to place her. Long, dark hair. Flashing eyes. Very pointed chin. Then I remembered the photo he’d shown me Thursday afternoon.

“This is the same woman who was killed in Daytona Beach.”

“Right. Rachelle.”

The paper rattled as I refolded it. “But, Saber, Millie couldn’t have killed Rachelle.”

He blinked. “Why not?”

“You’ve seen Millie. She couldn’t get close enough to a vampire to do harm in a million years.”

“She’s been close to you.”

“Not in a threatening way. If she pulled a gun on me, I’d be gone in a flash.”

He snorted.

“Okay, maybe flash is a stretch, but Millie wouldn’t be a match for a whole nest of vampires.”

“She might’ve hired an assassin.”

“Look, I know she’s not poor, but—”

“She’s wealthy, Cesca. Her family was one of the original oil families in Oklahoma. They made a bundle and parlayed it into a lot more. James had a trust fund.”

I thought about all the reasons why people commit murder. “Did Yolette inherit?”

“The inheritance laws in France are a good deal different than they are here, but they recognize prenup agreements. I figure Yolette inherited if she had a prenup with James, though some may have reverted to his mother.”

A wealthy young man who left his bride a boatload of money. Etienne had made a comment about Yolette ’s wealth that I didn’t pay much attention to at the time. Something about being able to indulge in her little whims —like the Highlander TV series paraphernalia and coming to St. Augustine for their wedding trip. Etienne ’s tone had sounded bragging and snobbish, and I’d forgotten it because, frankly, who cared?

Now I cared. If Etienne inherited, and we followed the money, Etienne was our murderer. Unless of course Yolette had not changed her will or had a prenup or whatever was needed in French law to keep him from inheriting. But there was always life insurance, right? Did they do life insurance in France?

I eyed Saber as he made the turn onto Charlotte that led to the bank building parking lot. “So are we talking to Millie, or is March doing it?”