Mrs. Morris and the Vampire

by Traci Wilton

  “Don’t touch anything,” she said. “I think we’ve discovered where Alaric was killed. Asher said he’d lost his vampire teeth.”

  “Asher’s the killer? You’re sure?” Kevin pulled his phone from his pocket, accidentally dropping Patrick’s book with a thunk. “No service.”

  “Pretty sure. I know he was involved. Asher was in sight the whole time that night. I bet he set up the stake with blood.”

  He’d been in sight, so had Orpheus, by the door. Elisabeta had been near Serenity. To make sure that Serenity did her part of the plan. Charlene went over everyone’s position in her mind that she knew. Ticking off each person and their costume, accounting for their whereabouts. Lucas, Stephanos. Evelyn.

  The pirate . . . where had Patrick been when the lights went out?

  Patrick had said he’d been contacted by Orpheus wearing giant diamond earrings on Friday night, but that wasn’t true.

  Friday, Orpheus had worn thick platinum hoops with his zoot suit. Patrick was tall. Fit.

  He definitely knew the tunnels.

  It didn’t make sense.

  She paced back and forth between the wall and stones, searching the brick for anything that might help explain until her gaze snagged on a crumbled section.

  “Kev.” She smoothed her fingers over a hole in the wall. “Could this be a bullet hole?”

  Kevin clicked a picture of it. “Yeah. We should go.”

  She wished she could talk to Kevin about the Night Shadows theft ring, but she’d promised Sam. She needed to talk to Sam, because Asher hadn’t killed Alaric. Not with a gun. He’d been in sight the whole time. Orpheus’s killer had seen him on Saturday. Killed him on Saturday and had been brilliant in trying to point the finger at Asher.

  Brilliant.

  Her stomach knotted. Her mouth dried. Orpheus would connect Patrick to the vampire scene.

  “Kevin, somebody who knows the tunnels very well was down here.”

  “Dru? He wouldn’t hurt anybody, not like that.”

  “I agree with you.” She nodded at the book in his hand, not understanding why.

  Kevin scowled.

  “Who else knows them well enough to write about them? Knows the riches and history? Who is protective of the tunnels and said that the documentary falling through was for the best?” She brought her own book from her purse and tapped the author’s name.

  “Dr. Patrick Steel did not kill Alaric.” Kevin dismissed this with a boot scuffle. “Sorry, Charlene. I just don’t buy it. Why?”

  “I don’t know why. But he was very specific about me not being in the tunnels today. That he’s been doing construction on them.” She shook the paperback.

  Charlene smelled a match, then a flare of light shone above her head as a stick of dynamite hit the ceiling. Dirt and wood and brick debris rained down, pelting her. She ducked and whirled.

  Kevin stomped on the flickering end until it spluttered, then was at her side, peering into the dim tunnel. “What’s going on? Who’s there?”

  Patrick ambled into their line of vision. He’d been the rat following them. She should have paid attention to her apprehension, but she’d foolishly explained it away.

  “You’re quite intelligent, Charlene, but your impatience makes you predictable. I’ve been watching you close enough to know.” His white hair was tucked beneath his red wool cap, his jacket unzipped.

  She straightened and reached into her purse for her pepper spray, feeling blindly around inside until she clasped the cool cylinder. She kept her hand on it, in her bag. Away from Patrick’s view. “What do you want?”

  Patrick lifted a heavy rock and aimed it directly at the loose beam with a solid throw. It connected, cracked, and more dirt and brick fell, creating a cloud of dust that made it difficult to see. “I’d set up the crime scene for the police to find, if they bothered.” He rocked back on his heels.

  Charlene realized he’d been the mastermind but still didn’t understand why.

  “They should be arresting Asher Torrance right about now, with the gun I planted in his bed of a coffin.” Patrick scowled. “I can go house-to-house underground with nobody the wiser. I wasn’t expecting you.” He shifted toward Kevin. “Or you.”

  In the four-foot-wide corridor there was no place for them to hide. Nowhere to run. “Why did you kill Alaric? He was a vampire wannabe with no ties to you whatsoever.”

  “Wrong you are, my dear.” Patrick’s smile was grim, as if he took no joy in harming her. “He was head of a ring in Louisiana. A thief who planned on moving his gang here to Salem, to steal from us. He thought he was being so slick, asking about the tunnels and if they still led to the Peabody. Offered me a cut if I didn’t turn him in. Not going to happen on my watch. Salem’s treasures stay in Salem.”

  “Why didn’t you just report him?” Charlene waved dust from her face. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

  “He was sneaking around down here, that’s why. I’d already warned him once—he had to die.” Patrick winked. “Folks go missing in these tunnels all the time.”

  Bile rose up Charlene’s throat. Had he killed others down here for trespassing? For getting too close to his secrets?

  Patrick squinted in the light of their headlamps. “How did you realize that it was me?”

  “Guess you got sloppy,” she said tartly. Her fear made her voice sharp. “Orpheus’s earrings. You said that he was wearing diamonds on Friday, but he’d been wearing platinum hoops.”

  Patrick slapped his palm to his thigh, never lowering the rock in his other hand. “You’re right. I missed that important detail. As a writer, my job is to connect the dots. Huh.”

  Charlene gripped her pepper spray within her purse. “It was you in the closet at the hotel.”

  “I needed to get that book from Orpheus before he ruined everything. He was close to figuring out what I’d done.” He clenched his fist and twisted like he held a chicken’s neck. “I killed him quick.”

  She drummed up the image of the man racing away from Elisabeta’s and compared it to Patrick. “Was that you running from Elisabeta’s?”

  “Yep.” He grinned at her with a sort of pride. “You almost caught me upstairs casing the house. I grabbed a cloak from the coffin and booked it. That will make a great scene in the novel. I like that title, Sordid Secrets.”

  The man was delusional. “Why were you there?”

  “Crafting my plan to set up Asher.” Patrick raised the rock in his hand. His strength was that of a pirate, not a professor. “I’m a crack shot. Two more should knock it down and you and your friend here will disappear.”

  Kevin stayed by Charlene, glancing up at the eroding ceiling. “The police will look for us.”

  “I know! It will be with great sorrow that I find you and your friend in the tunnels, after everyone has expressly told you how dangerous they are. Collapsed tunnels happen down here often enough. When they uncover your dead bodies, they’ll find the evidence that Asher had killed Alaric, and Asher killed Orpheus.”

  He tossed the rock where it smacked dead center. Debris floated down.

  Patrick picked up the unlit dynamite and put it on a pile of rubble behind him. “I’ll save this for afterward. Give you a nice shrine.” He chose a big round stone and aimed it at the teetering wood truss over their heads.

  Crack.

  “You don’t have to do this.” Charlene’s mouth was as dry as sandpaper.

  “I do. This will tie up all loose ends. I appreciate your support of Salem Confidential. Your story will definitely make the second book. What a way to kick off the tours! Book tours.”

  He aimed at the beam one more time. Charlene knew she and Kevin were going to be trapped in the tunnels. No cell service. No way of contacting anyone. Possibly dead, crushed by the ceiling of the tunnel.

  While Patrick focused above them, Charlene raced forward, streaming pepper spray into his face.

  Kevin grabbed her and hauled her to the side of the tunnel as the top dropped
in large chunks, covering her body as the wood and brick fell on top of them, each with bruising force. A brick hit her on the head and she blacked out.

  CHAPTER 25

  When Charlene came to, she knew it couldn’t have been too long that she’d been out because the dust motes were settling like gray snowflakes around them. Kevin was a heavy weight on top of her. “Kevin?”

  He didn’t answer. Brick. Stone. Wood.

  She wished she had a light but was afraid of the dynamite. Where was it? Did Patrick have more? Where was he?

  “Patrick?”

  Neither man answered. She scooted out from under Kevin, finding his wrist. His pulse beat strong beneath her fingers.

  He was alive.

  She crawled carefully away, not wanting to dislodge anything. It was a gray dark. Her purse was still over her shoulder and she dug into the side pocket for the flashlight she’d put into it.

  A groan sounded to her right. Her ankle hurt. Her temple ached. She found the button for the flashlight and turned it in the direction of the noise. Patrick lay there, eyes closed, bleeding from the nose, his face sticky from the pepper spray and the brick dust congealing to it.

  He was alive too. She’d dropped the can of pepper spray when Kevin had pulled her to safety. She rooted in her purse and found the umbrella—it was all she had left as a weapon. She prayed he would stay conked out.

  Now, how to get them all out of here?

  She returned to Kevin and started lifting the wood and brick off his body. His lashes fluttered. Somewhere she’d lost her headlamp and so she put the flashlight between her teeth to use both hands.

  “It’s me, Kevin. Charlene. We’re okay. You have to wake up.” She patted his cheeks—gently at first, then harder. At last his eyes opened.

  “Stop hitting me,” he said through a bloody lip. He tried to smile. “Guess the tunnels are dangerous.”

  “Especially when stalked by a crazy author.” She helped Kevin sit up.

  He winced and grabbed his rib. “Ouch.”

  She uncapped her water and gave him a drink.

  He squinted at what she held in her hand. “How many pepper sprays did you bring? I know you’re from Chicago, but still . . .”

  Charlene showed him that it was her fold-up umbrella. “I’m ready if it starts to rain.”

  Patrick moaned and shifted.

  “Will we run out of air?” Charlene asked. She kept her fear at bay by the skin of her teeth.

  “No. This path will eventually go to the wharf, I think. And there are grates and holes. I think we should go back the way we came. Teresa will notice if we don’t return.”

  “Okay. He thought he was so smart.” Charlene rose gingerly, not putting her weight on her right foot to avoid the stabbing pain it caused. She glared down at Patrick Steel. “He became a character in his head. The pirate, the professor, the author. Tour guide. Guardian of the tunnels.”

  “Hope he likes the role of prisoner,” Kevin said, sneering down at the man who’d tried to kill them.

  “Should we tie him up?” Charlene asked.

  Kevin undid his belt around his jeans, and they bound the author’s hands together, though he remained out cold. “Just in case,” Kevin said.

  An hour later, Charlene and Kevin had minced their way toward Witch Tea, just as Sam, handsome Sam, burst through the door of the storage room from the street entrance, followed by two officers in Salem blue. Teresa was right behind them.

  His face paled when he saw her standing there. “Charlene!”

  At his voice, she forgot all about being strong enough for her and Kevin. All about her and Sam’s rules. To hell with boundaries. They’d have to find a way to stay friends no matter what they were doing. She needed Sam in her life.

  She launched herself into his open arms, and he buried his face in her dusty hair.

  “How did you know to come here?” she whispered against his neck.

  He kept his strong arms around her. “Brandy called and said she’d had a dream where you were in a tunnel and couldn’t breathe. Dru is working security for the Peabody, and he knows about this tunnel entrance—it’s a popular one because it’s in such good shape. Teresa said you and Kevin had gone down here but hadn’t returned. I had to come.” He pulled back just an inch to look into her eyes. “You’re bleeding.”

  She stayed in his arms, not caring about her injury—she had to clear Asher. He wasn’t innocent in all this, but he wasn’t the man who’d killed Alaric or Orpheus. “Did you arrest Asher?”

  “He’s being questioned about a gun found in his possession. He claims it isn’t his. Why?”

  “Sam, you are not going to believe what happened. Patrick Steel, the author, killed Alaric and Orpheus, and set up Asher to take the fall.”

  Kevin laughed but winced and tightened his hold on his ribs. “He views himself as the guardian of the tunnels. He may or may not have killed other people before now. I guess Alaric was part of a theft ring?”

  Sam stiffly pushed back from Charlene, as if alarmed that she’d told Kevin what he’d told her.

  She gave a slight negating shake of her head. “Patrick had warned Alaric to stay out of the tunnels. He had underground access from his basement. Alaric planned on robbing the PEM and foolishly offered Patrick a cut for his silence. Patrick shot him. The stake-sized hole was all part of the ruse to trap Asher.”

  Sam’s shoulders sank. “Alaric was the leader? I’ll be looking at those crates in the basement more closely now. Thank you.”

  He gave his officers orders on going into the tunnels. Armed and wary. They moved quickly. “Wait,” Charlene called. “You’ll need a flashlight.” She handed hers over. Kevin offered the other policemen his headlamp.

  “They have penlights already. Can we get you to a hospital now?” Sam’s voice was deep with concern.

  “I can call an ambulance,” Teresa said.

  “No!” Charlene and Kevin replied in unison.

  “I can drive,” Charlene said.

  “How about I drive?” Sam countered. “That way I make sure you both go. Come on. I’m parked in front.”

  He reached for her hand and Charlene gladly let him take it. His worry turned to pointed questions once she had gotten into the passenger side of the SUV, and Kevin in the back. “Why didn’t you tell me what you were up to?” Sam demanded.

  “Would you have approved?”

  He smoothed his mustache and clenched his jaw, answering honestly. “No.”

  She loved that about him. His integrity. “You would have told me to mind my own business—but this was my business. People I care about were in danger.”

  His brown eyes focused on hers and she squirmed. “Turns out that one of the old janitors at the Hawthorne Hotel knows of a trapdoor in the basement where you and Kevin were looking. Under a stack of chairs. He was shocked anybody had been down there. Usually people steer clear because of the ghost stories.”

  “How did you know it was us?”

  He shook his head and started the car. “I am a detective. It’s my job to follow anonymous phone calls and size eight women’s sneaker prints.”

  “Oh.”

  “Tell me again how you put this all together.”

  She glanced back at Kevin, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I thought Asher had killed Alaric right until we were in the tunnel under the hotel. Patrick had warned me not to go there. He set up Asher as the scapegoat in the event the Salem PD went into the tunnels.”

  “You didn’t listen to his warning.” He drove toward the hospital, knuckles tight on the wheel.

  “I thought he was an older author who liked to dress up as a pirate. Had no idea that he was a killer, Sam. Trust me. You said that Brandy called you?”

  “Yes. Seems she had a dream that you were in the tunnel buried alive. She was quite adamant I do something. I know how interested you were in the tunnels, so I asked around, and Dru told me about Witch Tea and the entrance there.”

  “Brandy com
es from a clan of powerful witches that include Serenity. That’s why Alaric wanted her to perform the necromancer spell. Did you find the star sapphire?”

  “Yes.” They stopped at a light and he stared at her. “Among other jewels pertaining to the heist. I just don’t understand how you can say all of this with a straight face.”

  “There are things in Salem you don’t understand, Sam.” She used to be just like him. Black-and-white. Logical explanations. And then she’d been blessed with Jack.

  “Light’s green,” Kevin said, breaking the tension.

  “I understand human nature.” Sam stepped on the gas, calm and collected. “Alaric left New Orleans after his band of thieves was almost caught. He fled to Salem, thinking he could set up shop here. Cover his actions with his vampire ways—out at night, strange crowd, blood-drinking. Who’s going to look closely?”

  Charlene shrugged.

  “He made plenty of people angry. Elisabeta, whom he’d replaced with Serenity, with Orpheus, his right-hand man, who he’d ditched to hold the rap in New Orleans when things got too hot for Night Shadows. You said he’d told Asher that the plan would go on—well, that meant the robbery of the PEM. Elisabeta is singing like a full church choir to try and get a deal. Those are the real connections I look for, not hocus-pocus about the witching hour.”

  Sam was very smart, very keen, very anti-paranormal.

  “You know what, Sam? I hate to say this, but your unwillingness to believe in something more could hinder your ability to see what is right there before your eyes.”

  “Alaric was no vampire.”

  “Yet you came to save me on the word of a witch.” She touched his hand. “Thank you.”

  Sam parked at the hospital in the emergency section. He turned off the car and got out, opening her door for her as Kevin stumbled out of the back.

  Sam tipped her chin, emotions churning in his gaze. “Don’t make me regret it.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Within hours Kevin and Charlene were examined and released. Besides a few bumps and bruises, a couple of stitches here and there, they were fit to go. They decided to get their cars later and Kevin had a cab waiting when she finally walked through the exit doors. A thick bandage on her head hid her only wound, though her ankle was sore.