Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective: Ultimate Omnibus Volume 1 of 4 (Operation WetFish, Vampire Detective Ultimate Omnibus)

by Adam Carter

  Holly blinked. Baronaire could see some of her stern resolve fading. “Me? You want me to take over the streets?”

  “It’s not much work really. Organising the girls, making sure everyone knows where everyone else is. You don’t have to worry too much about protection, because I tend to that side of things. But more importantly you’ll be reporting to me. As I say, it’s not often, but sometimes I do require information or some other sort of help. You just need to know never to keep me waiting.”

  “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves,” Baronaire said. “Tammy might not even be dead yet. Holly, what can you tell us about her behaviour recently?”

  “Oh,” she replied icily, “so you’re talking to me now?”

  Baronaire ignored the scorn in her voice as he perched himself on the edge of a table. “She may have been grabbed, but she may well have known her attacker. We need to find out what happened.”

  “So this is you guys protecting us?” Holly asked, looking from one man to the next. “I thought after that little story you were supposed to prevent this from happening, not just react to it. And you don’t even have a clue where to begin looking. You’re just like the police, you’re all the same.”

  Sanders looked away and Baronaire finally understood why the old man had dragged him all the way out here on Christmas Eve. He really did care, he really felt he had let these girls down. Upon reflection, everything Holly was accusing was true. If Sanders was supposed to be protecting them, he was doing a pretty poor job of it.

  “She may have trusted the wrong person,” Sanders said, his own resolve back as he looked at Holly now. “She wasn’t taken from the streets, she didn’t get into anyone’s car and never come back. Whatever’s happened to her, wherever she’s gone, I think she did it willingly. Or at least was coerced.”

  Baronaire could see Holly thinking. Her fear had turned to anger, but that was giving way to concern. Tammy was her friend, and the crux of the issue was that the girl had vanished and was probably lying in a shallow grave somewhere. “She was acting edgy,” Holly said. “Has been for a while now. Whenever I brought it up, she’d just smile and tell me not to worry about it. Then a couple days back she upped and left. Told me she had some things to take care of, told me not to worry. That was the last I saw of her. I figured she’d be back sometime after Christmas.”

  “How did she intend to spend Christmas?” Sanders asked.

  “With me. We don’t have anyone, neither of us. Well, I got Carl, but we haven’t been together for a while now. Not properly anyway. We sort of split up when I moved out a couple of years back.”

  “When you hit him with a shoe,” Sanders said.

  “How could you know about ...?”

  “Where did you spend Christmas last year?” Baronaire interrupted.

  As she answered, Holly still seemed a little nervous that Sanders knew so much about her. “With Carl. It ... wasn’t good. I ended up back with Tammy in the afternoon, which turned out to be the best Christmas I’ve ever had in my life.”

  “He could have something to do with it then,” Baronaire suggested. “He knew the two of you were spending Christmas together this year? Might make a man jealous, that. Jealousy plus drink equals murder more often than not.”

  “More often than not?” Holly asked. “Man, what kind of a screwed up world do you live in?”

  “Cute.”

  “Did she pack?” Sanders asked. And to Holly’s bemused expression added, “Clothes. Toothbrush. Did she pack a suitcase?”

  “Oh, I ... I don’t know, does it matter?”

  Sanders adopted an expression Baronaire had seen many times before. These two men could understand the horrors of the world with a single glance, and it often infuriated them when other people couldn’t see what was plain before them. “It depends,” Sanders said tactfully, “if she was running away from or running to something. Charles, talk to Carl Thurrock and find out what he knows. I’ll visit Tamara’s flat with Miss Anderson and see what we can turn up.”

  “Sure,” Baronaire said, heading for the door. “Just don’t spend all your time giving the bedroom a thorough going over, Ed. And remember to tip heavily.”

  He could actually hear his DCI’s scowl as he stepped back into the snowy night. Sanders could not see Baronaire’s smile. It was never wise to bait Sanders, but sometimes Baronaire just couldn’t help himself. He was certain Sanders would find some way to make him pay for that remark.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The flat was empty, silent and cold. The only semblances of life were the decorations. A large tree dominated one corner, presents stacked haphazardly beneath it. Tinsel garlands streaked in every colour across the ceiling like indoor fireworks. Effigies of Father Christmas, snowmen and Jesus adorned every picture’s edge, every cupboard, every chair. It was Christmas in the flat and there was no one to enjoy it.

  For a time Holly thought she had been stuck with Carl for life, but when Tammy had shown her a new life, a better life, she had finally found the courage to ditch the waste of space and move out into the world by herself. The more she worked, the more money she got, but the cost of living was high and rent alone ate up almost all her income. Tammy had offered her the perfect solution; Tammy’s place was big enough for the two of them, and if Holly was paying half the rent, it would take the pressure off Tammy as well. Both women could start saving money; it wasn’t as though they had a pension doing what they did.

  The two women had been living together for about two years now and it was all working fine. They had an unspoken understanding, a mutual train of thoughts. It was strange, like they knew what the other was thinking before she’d even said it. Tammy always laughed, saying they were like sisters. Holly had never had a sister, and these past two years she felt as though she had been part of a family. A real family. Tammy didn’t want anything from her, didn’t want her to do things to make the family look better, didn’t pressure her about anything. They were happy together, and as she stepped into the flat and switched on the light it all came home very quickly that Tammy could well be dead.

  Holly wandered over to the table, absently tidying some magazines. “Tammy’d kill me if she came home to this mess,” she said by way of explanation. She tried to laugh as she spoke, but the sound died in her throat. Behind her Edward Sanders stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing about the room. “It’s a nice place,” he said.

  “Tammy’s a real homemaker, Mister Sanders. Can I get you a drink?”

  “I’m fine. He had found the mantelpiece and was holding a small framed photograph. Holly glanced over and watched him, his stony countenance giving nothing away.

  “We went to the beach,” she said, the fond memory making her only sadder. “August. We built sandcastles, had ice cream and drank a lot.”

  “You go on holiday together often?”

  “Not really. Nothing’s ever planned. Tammy just ... well, she’s impulsive. I’d wake up one morning and she’s all: ‘Hol, dig out your bikini, we’re going to the beach.’ She’s great like that.”

  Sanders replaced the picture gently. “You sound like you’re close.”

  “As I said, like sisters.” Holly could feel tears welling up and forced them down, controlling her breathing and wishing she could be as strong as Tammy would be right now if the shoe was on the other foot. “Where would you like to search first, Mister Sanders? I don’t really know what you’re even looking for.”

  If she expected an answer, however, she was disappointed. Sanders moved through the flat, looking around, making a thorough inspection. He checked the fridge, opened the cutlery drawer, even raised the lid of the breadbin. Holly stood in frustrated silence, desperately wanting to help but not having a clue as to what he could be doing. She felt like she’d invited Bill Murray into her flat and he was just pottering about, looking for ghosts; except that he’d already checked the fridge.

  “You eat well,” he told her.

  Holly’s mind was fighting t
he urge to scream. “I’m sorry, sir, but how is that relevant to ... to anything?”

  “All observations are relevant, Miss Anderson. The two of you lead a good and healthy life. I see a clean, stable environment. Your flat is ordered, homey, a good place to raise kids.”

  Holly wasn’t following much of this. “Sir, I’m not intending to raise kids with Tammy, we just flat share.”

  He seemed to remember she was there and offered her a small reassuring smile. “Of course.”

  He wandered back into the living room and veered towards the bedrooms. Holly was about to tell him the one of the left was Tammy’s when she had a sudden and frightening thought. “Uh, you know everything that’s going on in the streets, right? CCTV and whatever.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any, like, cameras in here?” she asked, squirming.

  “Only in the bathroom.”

  Holly’s eyes widened and Sanders turned to her with a chuckle. “Joke? No, there aren’t any cameras here. From me or anyone else.”

  “So you can’t spy on the flat?”

  “I can, I just choose not to. It’s immoral.”

  Holly did not want to even ask how he would get cameras installed if he wasn’t moral, since she still wanted to sleep at night.

  Sanders approached Tammy’s bedroom door then and stopped, his hand upon the knob. “Holly,” he said, turning back to her. “Do you and Tammy do drugs?”

  “God, no.”

  “Smoke?”

  “I used to. Tammy made me kick it. Told me I was a disgrace to myself and I could sling my hook if I brought cigarettes into her flat again.”

  “Good girl.”

  “She’s the best. She’s put me on the straight and narrow more times than I can count, Mister Sanders. I just can’t believe she might be dead.”

  “And she might be alive. There’s always hope, Miss Anderson.”

  “Please stop calling me that. You sound like one of my regulars.”

  “Sorry.”

  They stepped into Tammy’s bedroom then. It was exactly as Tammy had left it. The bed bore a bright cheery flower-patterned duvet, the sheets turned down as though by a hotel valet. The dressing table was filled with scent bottles and perfumes; it was cluttered without being untidy, which was probably the best way Holly could have described her friend. A laptop was folded and neatly resting at the side of a desk, and Holly had seen Tammy working on it often. Sometimes she was doing her accounts, formatting everything into tidy spreadsheets, all these formulae Holly didn’t understand working the magic for her. Sometimes she was just playing minesweeper. A CD rack was set against one wall, her cassette/CD player standing proudly beside it. There was a bookshelf, crammed full of novels, none of them especially designed to tax the brain. The walls were painted a gay light blue, a large Take That poster adorning the wall above the bed. The room was decorated as much as any other within the flat. Every bear wore a shiny tinsel crown, the window was a splatter of snow stickers. There was even a small tree on the dressing table, reminding Tammy there was more to life than work.

  Tammy did not work here. This was where she lived.

  Holly watched Sanders stroll about the room, his face unreadable. She had known policemen before, knew what to look for, and Sanders was giving nothing away. He was a man without emotion; this was just another case for him. But Tammy was a useful tool and Holly reminded herself that he was more worried about what she could be telling people about him. She may have been murdered by a client, but the way she had been acting, the way she had left in such a hurry ... it all pointed to her being blackmailed or in some other trouble. Holly guessed Sanders was afraid she could blow his operation wide open.

  He stopped by the bed and took a large brown bear from the pillow. The bear had a happy face and arms out to the side. Sanders stared at it solemnly.

  “We won that from a fair,” Holly said, trying very hard not to allow her voice to crack. She would not show weakness before this man, else he would leap upon it. “Tammy’s always been good at archery, Mister Sanders.”

  “Archery?” He seemed surprised.

  “Girl has to know how to take care of herself.”

  He nodded slowly, setting the bear down with undue gentleness as he continued to look about the room. He picked up a CD and frowned. “Mr Blobby? Really?”

  “Yeah, tell me about it. You know it’s number one, right? Christmas Day and Mr Blobby’s the best music this country can put out?”

  Sanders glanced at his watch. It wasn’t quite Christmas yet. She could see he was going to ask her how she knew in advance what the Christmas number one was, but there were much weightier matters to think about.

  Holly inhaled slowly. Standing there in Tammy’s room, going through her things, was tearing her up again. “If you’re looking for something specific, Mister Sanders, I can help.”

  “Tell me about men,” Sanders said, his eyes wandering. They lingered upon the poster for a few moments too long. “The men in her life,” he said, looking back to Holly. “Was she seeing anyone?”

  “No. Tammy ... Tammy doesn’t sleep around. Weird as it sounds, doing what she does, she’s after Mister Right. Really thinks he’s out there somewhere. She’s saving herself, I think.”

  “Saving herself?”

  “Yeah, I don’t get it either. But this is work, she says. It doesn’t count. I mean, I can’t judge her really; I mean, I got Carl and I’d get rid of him tomorrow if I could.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  “Pardon?”

  “It’s Christmas Day tomorrow, Holly. New start? Ditch the bum, get yourself someone you actually care about.”

  “And who says I don’t care about Carl?”

  “I’m not saying you don’t, but the guy takes you from your family, ruins all your chances in life, and sits there drinking himself to death. Not exactly husband material, Holly.”

  She felt indignation rising in her, which was good since it battered down the grief somewhat. “Don’t judge me, Mister Sanders. Carl was a release for me, a way out the door. I didn’t realise it at the time, didn’t even consider it ‘til years later, but all my life I’ve been told what to do, how to behave, what I’m going to be. I was a showpiece, not an individual. I wasn’t a human being, Mister Sanders; I was a dancing monkey. Maybe I don’t love Carl, maybe I never did, but he took me from that and I have to be grateful for it.”

  Sanders reflected on all that and said, “Guy’s still a bum.”

  “Yeah, but he’s my bum.”

  “You try telling your next client that.”

  “Mister Sanders, was that a crude joke?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t make jokes, Miss Anderson. What did you find out?”

  Holly frowned. “What did I ...?”

  “Guy’s a loser,” Baronaire said sharply.

  Holly jumped, her heart almost exploding. Baronaire was standing directly behind her, wearing a scowl as long as his trench coat. He was standing there as though he owned the place, as though he had every right to be looking in on Tammy’s private life. How he had got in the flat, how he hadn’t made any sound as he came up behind her ... Holly had not enjoyed her trip in the car with him to begin with, but the guy was creepier than a bathtub full of spiders.

  Then she remembered where he had been, and what he had just said.

  “You didn’t hurt him did you?” she asked, afraid.

  Baronaire snorted. “Your boyfriend’s off his face on more than drink, Holly. Yeah, you got a great Christmas to go back to.”

  “At least he doesn’t scare women half to death in his car,” Holly said, stamping her foot.

  Across the bed, Sanders asked, “Did he kill Tammy?”

  “No. Guy doesn’t have the bottle to do anything. With that amount of drugs inside him he can barely even stand up straight.”

  “That’s good news then,” Sanders said as though he had just read in the morning paper that it wasn’t going to rain this evening after all.r />
  “Of course Carl wouldn’t kill Tammy,” Holly said. “Your theory sucked to begin with; I could have told you Carl doesn’t have it in him to kill anyone.”

  “Yeah,” Baronaire said, “I think you could have. Ed, we should take her with us. If we want to find this girl alive, Holly’s our best chance.”

  Holly could see Sanders struggling with the decision. He did not want to take her along, that much was clear, but he was also insanely desperate to talk to Tammy before she was killed, to make sure she hadn’t breathed a word about his precious organisation. The first thing he had done upon meeting Holly was try to recruit her to his cause, and she could not get over that in a hurry. She for one would not be writing Tammy off just yet.

  “Fine,” Sanders said. “Did you get anything at all from Thurrock though?”

  “Maybe,” Baronaire replied. “He saw her getting into a car. Said she looked really nervous.”

  “Good work. Did he get a number?”

  “No.”

  “A make?”

  “Green.”

  Sanders blinked.

  “That was all,” Baronaire said. “Lucky for us, there aren’t many green cars out there. Wouldn’t want to offend the faeries or anything.”

  Holly had no idea what he was talking about, but this seemed like progress to her. She racked her brains, trying to think of anyone she knew who had a green car, but was coming up blank. “One of Tammy’s regulars drives a green Cadillac. Kill-something I think his name is.”

  “Appropriate,” Baronaire commented.

  Sanders ignored him. “Where does he live? What’s his first name?”

  Holly walked over to the desk and pulled up the laptop. It would take a few minutes for it to warm up, and she spent the time trying to think of details.

  “That’s a pretty expensive piece of equipment,” Baronaire noted.

  “Tammy’s always been good with money,” Holly replied, not even gracing him with a look. Finally the machine was powered on and Holly accessed one of Tammy’s spreadsheets. It contained information about times, dates, places and names.