Mrs. Morris and the Vampire

by Traci Wilton

  Charlene helped herself to a few crackers, brie, and a spinach tart, then topped off her glass of red. She found an empty seat next to Olivia and Andrew. She’d liked this dynamic couple the moment she’d met them.

  “So how was your day? What did you do?” Charlene leaned back in her chair and sipped her wine. Next, a bite of spinach tart.

  “We took a harbor cruise,” they both answered at once, sharing a look and a laugh. Just as she’d have done with her husband, Jared, when he was alive.

  “Great! I still haven’t done that. I seem to have so little free time.” Running a large B and B kept her very busy. “Which cruise line did you take?”

  “The Schooner Fame. We heard they were all good, but we were having lunch down at the wharf, and it was right there, so . . .” Andrew told her with a shrug.

  “I want to hear all about it. Where does it take you; what did you see?” Charlene piled warm brie on a cracker. “Sorry to sound nosy, but if you really enjoyed it, I’ll add it to my ‘things to do’ for my guests.”

  “Definitely add it,” Olivia said. “We had the best time. The staff on board were excellent, happy to answer all our questions.”

  Andrew put down his empty wineglass. “I’ll refill our drinks and tell you the highlights. I know we can’t monopolize your time.”

  “I wish you could,” she answered truthfully. They were an easy couple to chat with, and after the day she’d had? She deserved a break.

  A rumbling voice sounded behind her and she gave a guilty start. “Here you are. I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon.”

  She stood up and put her glass and plate on the floor at her feet. “Sorry, Sam. It’s been one of those days.”

  His eyes narrowed and his mustache quivered. “So I’ve heard. In private, please?”

  She glanced at Andrew and Olivia, who looked at him with interest. Sam was dressed in casual jeans and a denim jacket—they probably wondered who this guy was, and if they should intervene.

  “Sorry I can’t hear about your adventure right now, but Detective Holden needs to ask me a few questions.” She shrugged. “Later, maybe?”

  She didn’t hear their answer as Sam had taken her arm and was leading her to the dining room. Like she might try to escape. Once again treating her like a criminal, when all she wanted was to catch the real bad guys or girls.

  She gritted her teeth. “Unhand me.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Always the gentleman, Sam dropped his hands and backed up a few steps.

  “Thank you,” Charlene said coldly, crossing her arms in defensive mode. “I’m guessing this has to do with Officer Jimenez?”

  “Please take a seat.” He pointed to a dining room chair. “I want an explanation before I—”

  “Wring my neck?” She sat down quickly, propping her elbows on the table.

  “Pretty much.” He turned his seat around and leaned on the back.

  His brown eyes searched her face, and she knew he was seething by the twitch at his clamped jaw.

  She averted her gaze, ashamed to be in this position where he was disappointed in her actions. Again.

  “You can’t even look me in the eye right now, can you?”

  He had a strong voice normally, but it came out low and throaty. How long would he continue to forgive what he viewed as her shortcomings?

  She raised her eyes and half-smiled. The truth was, given the circumstances, she would do the same thing all over. “Sam,” she said gently, “what is it?”

  “I’ll need you to go to the station tomorrow. Office will be open on Sunday because of the murder investigation. Talk to Officer Jimenez and give her a statement.”

  “Okay.” Charlene nodded right away—happy to comply.

  Sam tipped the chair forward, then snapped it back. “I called you earlier to tell you that the blood on the stake was O negative—the most common blood type.”

  “You did?” Surely this was progress in their relationship.

  “And then I find out that you were at the Longmire Hotel. On the scene when a man fell to his death. A man that is connected to the victim in the morgue. I was honoring our bargain, and you were not.”

  “I am sorry about that, you know.” She didn’t look away. “I had a reason.”

  “It better be good.” He stared at her, steady. Calm.

  “Brandy was angry and determined to speak with . . .” She paused. Did he know about their visit with Elisabeta too? She hedged. “I was afraid to let her go alone because she was so upset.”

  He was silent for a long minute, and it made her more nervous than if he’d just yell at her.

  “Brandy found out that Orpheus and Alaric both wanted immortality and thought they could get it through the Flint bloodline.”

  Sam frowned. “I’m not concerned right now about Brandy. It’s your hide that I’m trying to keep safe.”

  “I know.” Charlene reached across the table for his fisted hand and covered it with hers, squeezing slightly. “I do appreciate it.”

  “Look—we’re not playing a game here. I have half a mind to take you to the station and charge you with interfering in an active police investigation. Obviously, the last time didn’t make a strong enough impression.”

  “So why don’t you?” Charlene lifted her chin, knowing that she wasn’t completely in the right, but her pride won out. She wasn’t totally wrong either.

  “Why don’t I?” He exhaled explosively. “Good question that I don’t have the time to answer.”

  “Let’s shelve this conversation.” She straightened and interlaced her fingers on her lap. “How can I help you?”

  “Charlene,” he said in that super-soft voice he used when he was about to put the hammer down. “Please share what you were talking about with Orpheus.” His gaze narrowed. “Unfortunately, we were unable to ask our questions since we didn’t get to his room before he leaped to his death.”

  She shuddered, recalling Orpheus on the sidewalk, unseeing, broken. “As I said, we learned that Orpheus also wanted to be a vampire and believed that a witch could make that happen.”

  “Vampires.” He scoffed.

  “It’s true, Sam.” She swallowed and pushed ahead. “Orpheus was going to leave town today, but then something happened to change his mind and he extended his stay until tomorrow.”

  Sam nodded for her to continue.

  “He admitted that he’d been friends with Alaric for a long time in New Orleans until they had a falling-out.”

  “Over what?”

  “He didn’t tell us.”

  “And?”

  “He said that Alaric broke the rules of the vampire coven by telling people about it. We asked if he’d punished Alaric, but he said no.”

  “And then jumped to his death?” Sam shook his head in disbelief.

  “He also seemed glad that Alaric was proved to be human when he died.”

  “Of course he was human. You don’t believe this nonsense, do you?” Sam leaned forward to study her.

  “No!” She exhaled, glad that she was able to answer that honestly. “I noticed that his eyeteeth were odd.”

  “How? Fangs?”

  “No—just, bigger.”

  He withdrew his notepad and jotted something down. “I’ll have the coroner examine his mouth. And Alaric’s.”

  She nodded. “Brandy and I were thinking he might have jumped because he felt guilty. Maybe we’d asked a question that alerted him to getting caught, or our visit unsettled him somehow.”

  Sam tapped his pen on the table. “That would be the easy answer—which means I don’t buy it. What else did you notice?”

  “His earrings. They were huge diamonds. How does a vampire wannabe make money like that?” Charlene was torn about confessing to their trip to Elisabeta’s.

  “That’s a good question.”

  “He had Gucci luggage and boots. He was dressed when we got there.”

  Sam’s brow raised. “That sounds normal.”

 
“I mean, he had on clean boots. His dirty boots were by the door.”

  He made another note. “I’ve got the clerk sealing the room until we’re done with it.” His cell phone rang and he pulled it from his jacket pocket to answer. “Oh? All right. I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Sam, there’s more.” She had to tell him about Elisabeta.

  He stood, placing his two large hands on the table. “Can it wait? They’ve got somebody in custody. Hopefully with a full confession.”

  “Who?”

  “Can’t say, Charlene.” Sam patted his jacket pocket. “Stay home tonight and I’ll try to come by later. If not, then you can tell me in the morning.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam.” She was, for upsetting him. But she couldn’t change who she was, either.

  His face softened. “I’m sorry too. When I get so riled up it’s because I can’t protect you.” He reached out a hand to feather her face. “I want you to be safe.”

  “Sam, you and I both know that there are no guarantees in this life. I can’t live in a gilded cage, and I can’t ignore my friends and people I care about who need my help.”

  He sucked in a breath and released it. “We’re at an impasse. Again.” His phone buzzed. “I have to go.”

  Sam left, not waiting for her to walk him out of the dining room. Charlene returned to the living room, sadness in her heart.

  “Hey,” Andrew said. “Everything all right?”

  “It’s complicated.” Charlene poured a little more wine, then took her seat.

  “Is this about Alaric’s death?” Chloe asked. “Celeste was just telling us all about it. I feel bad now for doubting his magician abilities at the breakfast table.”

  “Why?” Tommy asked. “He wasn’t any good, obviously. Or he wouldn’t have ended up dead.”

  Asher stood and glared down at Tommy. “You don’t know jack. Shut your face before I—”

  Charlene partially rose from her armchair. “Hey, now. Let’s calm down.”

  Joey punched Tommy’s arm. “He didn’t mean nothin’ by it, Asher. Sorry, dude.”

  Asher slowly sat back down, as did Charlene. Would this stressful day ever be over? It was only six.

  Asher whispered to Celeste and Celeste nodded, glaring at Tommy. “What did the detective want, Charlene?” Celeste asked. “Did he find out who killed Alaric?”

  Charlene shook her head. “He didn’t say.” And she wasn’t sharing about Orpheus’s death—she was already on Sam’s last nerve.

  “Do you think it’s safe here? We were just down at the wharf.” Malena reached for Judd’s hand. “Where the body washed up.”

  “I feel perfectly safe here,” she assured her guests. “Salem has a lower violent crime rate than the national average.” She’d checked—relieved to discover that satisfying information.

  “We were fine and out all night, partying at the wharf,” Celeste said with the confidence of youth. “Asher knows everybody.”

  “I’m sure we’ll have more information in the morning. The Sunday paper is here at six. Did you see the write-up about the ball in this morning’s paper?” Charlene tried to steer the subject toward positive things.

  Chloe nudged her husband. “Braydon, your dad won’t believe that we’re here while a murder occurred. We’ll need extra copies of the paper to bring him.”

  Braydon gave his cabernet a twirl. “He’ll be jealous. Dad used to save clippings all the time for his writing; he hoped to be the next Stephen King.”

  “What do you do in the publishing industry?” she asked.

  Braydon lifted his wineglass. “We’re both editors—met in college, freshman year, and haven’t been apart since.”

  Charlene loved to read, but these days steered clear of the scary stuff. “How did your dad make out?”

  “Tons of rejections at first, but twenty years later he’s got a few books published, mostly horror.” Braydon grinned. “Didn’t get the fame and fortune he was looking for, but still has a legacy to be proud of.”

  Charlene smiled. “My husband Jared and I enjoyed thrillers. We’d cuddle on the sofa and watch them together with a huge bowl of popcorn. I miss those days.”

  “What happened to your husband, Charlene? We thought you might have inherited this place.” Braydon helped himself to more brie. The dish was almost empty.

  “Unfortunately, he died in a car accident.” She squeezed the napkin in her hand and added, “He was the love of my life and I thought I’d never recover—yet here I am.”

  “You’re a brave woman to find a new path.” Chloe touched her arm in comfort. “We lost our first child—he was stillborn, and I haven’t been able to conceive again.”

  “I’m very sorry.” Tears stung her eyes. “We couldn’t have children.”

  Braydon glanced at Chloe. “We’re considering adoption.”

  “I hope you do it.” She thought of Avery. “There are so many wonderful kids living in government subsidized shelters who could use a good home. Here in Salem, I can recommend Felicity House personally.”

  Asher, Tommy, Joey, and Celeste all rose, voices high as they talked over one another. “I guess you don’t want us to hang out?” Tommy shouted at Celeste. “Salem was your idea.”

  “I do!” she said, not letting go of Asher. “Let’s all go to the beach again. Okay, Asher?”

  Asher waited a minute before giving a gruff, “Yeah. Let’s get another beer here, and then we can take off.”

  Though new to the group, he was the leader.

  Charlene eyed the clock. Six-thirty. Her energy was totally depleted, but she gamely smiled and conversed as best she could. She hoped to spend the rest of her Saturday night on her love seat, relaxing until bed, and could hardly wait to escape to her room.

  She picked up empty dishes and brought them into the kitchen to soak, the conversation in the other room a low murmur.

  Maybe instead of television, a nice book?

  Her phone rang. Sam? She hoped he wasn’t planning on coming over, because she was beat.

  “Charlene?”

  “Hey there. What can I help you with?” She yawned. “I’m so tired I could sleep for a week.”

  “Hate to bother you, but I really need to talk to you.”

  Her long day wasn’t through yet.

  Then she brightened. Had his person in custody confessed?

  CHAPTER 9

  Charlene put on her warmest jacket and met Sam on the front porch, hoping he had wonderful news.

  He parked and climbed the steps, brow arched.

  “Miss me?” she teased.

  “It hasn’t even been an hour since I was here last,” he rumbled. “I’m not allowed in the house now?”

  She laughed. “I want to keep our visit short and sweet. You’ve got my guests wondering what’s going on and if they’re safe in Salem.”

  He tipped his hat back and smiled at her. “I’m here to apologize.”

  “Oh, really.” She was immediately suspicious of his motives.

  “I may have come on a little strong earlier. In my defense, you make me crazy, Charlene.”

  She stuffed her hands in her pockets and grinned at him. The crazy feeling was mutual. “Okay. Apology accepted. I’m sorry too. How did the confession go?”

  “The person changed his mind. Slipped out the back door.”

  “Oh no!”

  “Yeah. It was too good to be true.” Sam glanced at her sideways. “What were you going to tell me earlier?”

  She hated to ruin the good vibe between them, but it was best to be honest. “Uh, just that Brandy also talked to Elisabeta earlier.”

  “Brandy . . . and you?”

  She braced herself for his reaction. “Yes. She was driving, remember?”

  He sank against the railing on her front porch, stretching his long legs before him, his hands on his thighs. “And what did you discuss?”

  “Well, that conversation is why we went to see Orpheus, so it is relevant. Elisabeta claimed that Orpheus
was jealous of Alaric.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Maybe jealous enough to kill him.”

  “Huh.”

  She stepped closer to Sam to see his expression in the porch light. “You’re not mad?”

  “Nope.” He spread his arms to the side. “I want to know everything that you talked about.”

  “I can’t just spout it out like that.” She paced a few steps. “It was much earlier in the day. A lot’s happened since then.”

  “How about this: You write down everything that you remember and tell it to me in the morning at the station when you’re there to give your statement to Officer Jimenez.”

  She whipped her head to face him, still not sure that she was hearing correctly. “That sounds very reasonable, Sam.”

  He nodded and stood up. “That’s me. A man of reason. I figure if we have these chats from now on at the station, then it will be professional. It will remind you of how serious this is. And for me, it won’t be personal. Got it?”

  Charlene brought her clasped hands to her waist. “Thank you. I’ll do it.”

  “If you happen to see Dru, let him know I’d like to talk to him.” Sam had descended the stairs but now stopped, one boot on the ground, the other on the last step.

  “Why would I see Serenity’s ex-boyfriend?”

  “I have no logical reason to suspect you would, and yet, you turn up in the least expected places.”

  Charlene sniffed at his tone but could hardly fault the man. She wrapped her arms around her waist, her jacket not cutting the chill of the fall evening. “I haven’t seen him since last night when Stephanos sent him home in a cab.”

  “He didn’t go home. Got plenty of witnesses that place him at the pier after midnight, which is a problem.”

  Oh no. Dru had left the Hawthorne Hotel at ten, with his threat to kill Alaric. Then Alaric washed up near the pier. Not good for Dru unless he had a solid alibi.

  Was that who had walked out of the station?

  Charlene sighed. “If for some very strange reason I see Dru before you do, I will relay your message.”

  “Night.” Sam climbed into his SUV and left her house with a stern, “Stay home.”

  Charlene had no plans to do anything other than sleep and try not to obsess over why Orpheus had jumped from the window. Like Sam, she’d learned that the obvious answer was not always the correct answer.