La Vida Vampire

“It’s a less violent crime.”


“If you consider extensive damage and DIE spray-painted on your tailgate less violent.”

“Who has reason to trash my truck? Only Gorman. He threatened me, and he hates vampires, but, oops, he was gone.”

“Everyone else in town likes vampires? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Are you going to carp or help?”

“Carry on, Sherlock.”

I crossed my eyes at him but recorded the vandalism. “Now last in this string of events, Gorman is beaten. I didn’t do it, so who did?”

“Too many people to count?”

I couldn’t stop the quick grin at his deadpan expression. “He is repulsive, isn’t he?”

“He’s worse, but I’ll grant you, the beating probably wasn’t random.”

“Okay, then,” I said with a final notation, “we have two murders—”

“And the victims knew each other.”

“Yes, but the vandalism and the beating don’t look connected. So, let’s do a process of elimination.” I folded my hands on the legal pad. “Is it possible Ike or one of his nestmates killed Rachelle?”

“If they had, there wouldn’t have been a body to find.”

I made a face. He was right. “Are the Daytona Beach police pursuing the case?”

“For all intents, no. They called me according to procedure and dumped it in my lap.”

“Did you interview Ike?”

He threw me a dark look. “Where are you going with this?”

“We have two dead women connected by their past.”

“Not to mention their broken necks and the .22 silver slugs in their brains.”

“Which is odd, too. For a vampire, sure, the bullet has to be silver. For Yolette?”

“Maybe the killer forgot to change ammo.”

“Or just didn’t bother, but silver isn’t dirt cheap, and breaking a neck isn’t easy. It’d have to be someone with military training.”

“That’s not a given, but it’s a good premise.”

“Saber, what about the autopsy? Weren’t there any handy finger or hand bruises on the victims?”

“To indicate how large the hands that snapped the necks were?” he said with a grin. “No. Both women’s faces and bodies in general had some pre-and postmortem bruising, but nothing to give us a lead. The toxicology tests won ’t be back for at least another week.”

“Damn. All right then,” I pressed on, picking up my pen. “Who gains what by killing these women, and who’d know how to break a neck? Let’s start with Gorman. There were guns at his house, correct?”

“Which he insists were planted.”

“Is there a ballistics match, or do you know yet?”

“The results will be in by Monday, but even if there’s a match, I don’t think he did it.”

“I agree. Also, there’s no way he’d get close enough to Yolette or Rachelle to break their necks.”

“Rachelle was shot first.”

“Fine,” I said scribbling another note, “but Gorman wouldn’t use a little pistol to shoot her. He’d use something bigger, like an elephant gun.”

“Or a rocket launcher.”

“And he’d take pictures and brag about it.”

“But his alibi holds, so who’s next?”

I put a big X over Gorman and skimmed down. “There’s Millie and Mick, but they’re both off the list, too.”

“Millie, yes. Why eliminate Mick?”

“Don’t start on Mick.”

“He has ties to the Daytona Beach vampires, and he’s ex-military.”

I raised a brow. “Really?”

“Navy,” Saber said.

“But he doesn’t really have ties, Saber. He has a history with them that would keep him far, far away from the nest. He wouldn’t work for Ike in a billion years.”

Saber didn’t look sold but said, “Go on.”

“Gomer aka Holland aka Eugene the PI.”

“He knew exactly where the Fourniers were staying.”

“But Millie’s no fool. She hired a reputable PI, not an assassin. Although, ” I added, tapping a nail on the table, “Ike could’ve hired him to investigate Rachelle’s death.”

“Not likely. Vampires might enslave or enthrall, but they don’t look in the freaking phone book for a PI.”

I look in the phone book for all sorts of things, but I let it go. “Maybe Ike saw Eugene following Yolette and glommed on to him that way.”

“That’s possible.”

“But it still doesn’t make sense that Eugene would kill Yolette. Not for Millie or for Ike.”

“You’re right. Ike would want the killer brought to him for some old-fashioned vampire justice.”

I knew from the past what that could mean, and Ike’s reputation wasn’t any kinder or gentler than King Normand’s.

“So why don’t you call Ike and ask him about Eugene?”

He pointedly cut his gaze to the living room windows. “It’s still light out. Ike won’t be up for at least an hour, and—” He stopped and gave me an odd look. “What time’s the tour tonight?”

“Nine to about ten thirty. Why?”

“We could go see Ike after that.”

“We who? I’m not going anywhere near him.”