La Vida Vampire

So many city and county cop cars and uniformed personnel milled around, I wondered why they were all needed. Yellow tape cordoned off most of the block and plaza, breaking only at the street where police stopped anyone attempting to get in or out. The cop we checked in with was the same woman who’d shown up when my truck was vandalized Thursday night. Only two days and a lifetime ago.

Detective March and another man in plain clothes met us in the street in front of the bank and condo entrance.

“You find the weapon?” Saber asked immediately.

“Negative,” March said. “This is Detective Balch, St. Augustine Police Department.”

“Balch,” Saber acknowledged, shaking hands with the thin, blond man.

I murmured a greeting but kept my arms pinned at my sides so my flimsy gown didn’t flap in the off-bay breeze and expose more than I wanted seen.

“Ms. Marinelli,” March said, “I imagine you want to get upstairs, and Balch and I need to get statements from both of you, if you’re up to it.”

Saber’s hand flexed on my back, and from the corner of my eye I saw his look of surprise. “You’ve finished processing the front stoop and hallway?”

Balch answered. “I made it a priority when March explained the victim’s, uh, special needs.”

I didn’t like the way Balch’s eyes slid away from mine, but putting him on the spot wouldn’t be mannerly. Besides I was tired, so I aimed a grateful smile at both Balch and March.

“You’re right, I need to be in my own space. Thank you.”

Balch ducked his head and turned to lead the way to the tenant entrance as he filled us in.

“Looks like the shot was fired from a .22 rifle somewhere between the gazebo and the old market, ” he said, gesturing across the street to the plaza. “If the guy didn’t keep the rifle with him, he could’ve tossed it anywhere.”

“Including the bay,” Saber agreed, running his hand through his dark hair.

I stopped on the sidewalk and shuddered.

Saber eyed me a second. “You still smell the blood?”

I glanced at Balch and March, who’d walked ahead of us. “Not as strongly now, but yeah, I do.”

Saber nodded and turned to the detectives. “Do me a favor,” he said. “Take a sample of the soil in this planter by the entry. Test it for blood—fresh and old blood.”

“Why?” March asked, his frown puzzled. “Ms. Marinelli wasn’t on the stoop long enough to bleed into the planter.”

“I know, but Cesca keeps sensing an odor we’re trying to track down.”

“You’re smelling blood?” Balch asked, his voice heavy with distrust. “Is this a vampire thing?”

“Yes, Detective Balch.” I met his guarded gaze matter-of-factly. “I don’t know if it is blood, or if I’m just sensing it that way, but it could be important.”

“And you’d like us to check it out.” Balch held eye contact a moment, then shrugged and called a female tech over. Once he’d given her instructions, he said, “Ready to go up?”

I glanced at Saber. Judging from his impatient expression, we were more than ready. In the condo, I excused myself to change into blue nylon elastic-waist pants and a dark green cotton shirt. I’d bought the shirt large and loose to wear as a light jacket over sweaters. Tonight it helped hide the fact that I was braless. My shoulder hurt more by the time I’d finished, but I managed not to grit my teeth when I returned to the living room. Saber handed me a glass of ice as I settled at one end of Maggie ’s blue couch. He held a Coors bottle and sat on the middle cushion. March and Balch took the armchairs and held little spiral notebooks.

“We got the basic facts from Saber while you were changing,” March said. “What do you remember, Ms. Marinelli?”

“We got near the tenant entrance,” I started. “I don’t remember what we were talking about, but I smelled blood and mentioned it to Saber.”

“Who’s blood did you think it was?” Balch asked.

“I didn’t think it was anyone’s in particular, but Saber said it could’ve been Gorman’s.” I stopped and looked at March.

“Gorman is still in the hospital, right?”

“Right,” March said, “but I sent a deputy to talk to him anyway.”

“On the chance,” Saber added, “one of his Covenant buddies did it.”

“And?” I prompted looking from Saber to March to Balch.

“According to the nurses and hospital call records,” March said, “Gorman hasn’t had a single call or civilian visitor—other than when you saw him this afternoon.” March paused and smiled. “But then, he’s not your main suspect, is he, Ms. Marinelli?”

“My what?” I asked, looking to Saber for help.

Saber shrugged. “I told them we’ve been eliminating suspects.”

“Then you know we think Etienne is the killer. What’s bothering me is the plain lead bullet.” I gestured with my glass of ice.

“I mean, Etienne used silver ammunition on Rachelle and Yolette. Why change if he wanted me dead?”

“Maybe he only wanted to scare you,” Balch said.

“Or,” Saber piped in, “he ran out of silver ammo.”

“Or maybe,” March added, “Saber was the target, and you got in the way.”

The fine hair on my arms stiffened as I turned to Saber. “Why would Etienne want you dead?”