La Vida Vampire

Eugene shrugged. “My Paris contact might be able to find out about a prenup, but it won’t be until Monday.”


Eugene pulled out a small spiral, the kind Detective March used, and wrote Inheritance in neat script. We sat quietly for a minute, me trying to draw lines between the murders—all three of them, if I included James.

“Let’s say,” I mused aloud, “that Etienne is involved in the murders. The two humans wouldn’t be difficult to kill—”

“But a vampire would be nigh on impossible,” Eugene added.

“Right. Yolette and Etienne seemed obsessed with vampire sex, but were they really?”

Saber leaned forward, his elbows on the small table. “What are you cooking up now?”

“I can see Yolette into sex. She came off as bisexual.”

Eugene nodded. “That fits what I saw.”

“But,” I went on, “Etienne seemed more—I don’t know—remote? Like he didn’t care one way or another but was mildly amused by Yolette’s antics. That’s how he acted when she propositioned me.”

“Actually,” Eugene drawled, “now that you mention it, he wasn’t kissin’ or cuddlin’ the vampire who was all over him. He just sorta stood there. Yolette would be the one holdin’ hands with a vampire or havin’ her arm around one.”

“Did Etienne look embarrassed? Tolerant? What?” Saber asked.

Eugene closed his eyes a minute. “Like Miss Cesca said, amused. Indulgent, maybe.”

“Were you taking photos?” Saber asked.

“And video. I can e-mail the stills to one of you.”

“Can’t hurt,” I said and rattled off my e-mail address. “So if Etienne wasn’t in the vampire scene for sex, what drew him there?” I turned to Eugene. “What else do you have on him? Work, family, anything?”

He spread his hands as if at a loss. “He’s the only child of parents livin ’ outside Paris. Works for a chemical company where he has a poor performance record. He’s been demoted once and is on probation now.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Comin’ in late, sloppy work habits, that kind of thing. ” Eugene paused. “He had a good company reputation until he started carousin’ at vampire clubs.”

“What exactly does he do at the chemical company?” I asked over a buzzing noise. Eugene shifted in the hard chair, pulled out his cell phone, and read the screen before he answered. “I guess he does whatever chemical engineers do. Develop chemicals, test ’em.”

“Do you know what he was working on?”

“I’ll check that with my contact Monday,” he said, adding my questions to his list. “Anythin’ else?”

“Just one other question,” I said. “Why did you tell me you were Holland Peters?”

“Instead of stickin’ with Gomer?” Eugene smiled and patted my hand where it lay on the table. “Truth is, I wanted to see if Yolette or Etienne would react to it. When Stony caused the scene and I had to give my name, I stuck with Holland.”

“Did the Fourniers connect you with Yolette’s first husband?” Saber asked.

“Didn’t so much as blink when I said I was Peters,” he admitted. “Cold fish, those two. I need to go, but if you get proof Etienne killed Rachelle, I’d sure ’preciate bein’ filled in. Ike is not a patient, uh, man.”



Eugene had to stake out a hotel in Ormond Beach, but he left us his business cards, complete with his cell and fax numbers and his e-mail address. I tucked mine in the bodice of my Minorcan costume as he and Saber shook hands. Bad move.

With Saber strolling beside me back up Hypolita toward the bay front, I was aware of the card in my bra and my musky aura. Each time Saber brushed my arm oh-so-casually, my body tightened, and my breasts distinctly tingled. I wasn’t horny enough to chew nails yet, but my heart thu-thudded with every stray touch.

Distraction. I needed one, and fast, because getting it on with Saber was not on my agenda. At Hypolita and St. George, we veered around a group of bikers reeking of beer and wearing almost as much leather as the vampire set.

“Can you take any legal action against Ike?” I asked when we passed the bikers. Saber peered at me. “You mean to call him off Eugene?”

“Gee, no, I meant getting him to wear more cotton blends, less leather.”

“Smart-ass,” he said with a quirk of his mouth. “I could make noises about revoking his protected status, but he’ll probably drop Eugene once the case is solved.”

“What if it’s not solved? I mean, we are down to Etienne as the killer, right?”

“He feels right for it, but we can’t prove it.”

“Then we’re missing something. I know we’ve looked at this six ways from Sunday, but there has to be something we haven’t stumbled on.”

“Maybe, but this isn’t one of your mysteries where the case is neatly resolved. Killers do get off, and Etienne isn ’t a U.S. citizen. We can’t compel him to stick around without cause.”