I couldn’t argue with her there, except that my nonna was an aficionada of the enema.
“And don’t forget, Thou shalt not covet.”
I blinked. “What are they coveting?”
She caressed her corsets. “Not everyone can wear costumes like this, Miss Franki.”
My jaw loosened, like the screw in her head.
Veronica flipped her hair and leaned forward. “I think they object to your nudity, Glenda. They feel it’s indecent.”
“Showing what the good Lord gave me?” She arched her back to emphasize what he’d given her. “Sounds to me like they need to get their minds out of the proverbial gutter. And by the way, I think one of them broke mine.”
“That wasn’t the nonne. It was me.”
She relaxed her corsets. “Why didn’t you let me know?”
“Um, I’ve had other things to worry about? Anyway, I’ll have Anthony fix it for you. He needs something to do.”
Glenda pursed her lined lips. “Carlos could use a barback at Madame Moiselle’s.”
Veronica shook her head. “Franki’s mother would not like that.”
“Yeah, she’d haul ass here and drag him home to…” I stopped to grab ahold of the lifeline she’d lowered. “What do I need to do to make that happen? A résumé? References?”
“I’ll talk to Carlos today, sugar. Tell Anthony to be at the club tomorrow at five.”
“I will personally escort him.” And because I was eager to stay in Glenda’s good graces, at least until my slacker brother got the job, I added, “I’ll talk to my nonna about the gatherings.”
“Speak of the she-devil.” Glenda gestured to the window. “You can talk to her now.”
Nonna trotted toward the tavern in her black mourning dress and matching apron, holding a red pasta fork.
I scooted from the booth. When I got outside, Nonna was at the door.
She pointed her pitchfork at me. “It’s-a time for dinner.”
“Veronica and I are discussing a case.” A mental one. “And I was going to grab a bite with her and Glenda.”
She cast a wary glance at the tavern. Like a typical Italian grandmother, she viewed food from any kitchen other than hers as suspect, and tavern fare was essentially waste cooking. “But I make-a caponata.”
“I’m surprised you had time to make anything for your family after all that cooking you’ve been doing for Detective Sullivan.”
Nonna’s gaze dropped to her apron. “I am a woman of-a many talents.”
Tactics was a more appropriate term. “Uh-huh. And why did you have a priest come to the house today? Was it because of Carnie’s Countess Dragula costume?”
“You think I haven’t seen a man dressed like a woman vampire? Look at-a the family photos of-a your nonnu’s mamma.”
It hadn’t occurred to me before, but my great grandmother did bear a strong resemblance to George Hamilton in Love at First Bite.
Her eyes narrowed to slits the size of noodle molds. “I need-a counsel, so I called Father John.”
“Who’s he?”
“He help-a you with-a that Limoncello Yellow murder. You know, that handsome, young-a priest from Our Lady of Guadalupe Catholic Church?”
My mind went to the gutter—not in the sense of impure thoughts about Father John but in the sense of finding the broken piece and hitting myself over the head with it. “A policeman is one thing, but a priest? Do you have no boundaries at all?”
“Madonna mia, che sacrilegio!” She put her hands to her bosom. “You need-a to go to confession.”
I ignored the confession comment. Nonna and I both knew that she would talk the father into leaving the Church if it meant finding me a husband. “If you weren’t trying to fix me up, then why did you call him?”
“Because-a Wesley tell-a me about your case.”
If Wesley didn’t watch out, he was going to find my nonna’s pasta pitchfork in his posterior. It was hard enough having Nonna meddle in my personal life, so I didn’t need her in my professional one. I summoned my best Robert-De-Niro-in-Taxi-Driver voice. “You stay out of my case and stay away from Sullivan, capito?”
She jutted out her chin, Mussolini style. “But you need-a protection from-a the vampiri. And Father John gave-a me some tips.”
I hadn’t thought about using the Church as a resource on vampirism, but it wasn’t a bad idea. “What I need is protection from your meddling.”
“One of these-a days, you’ll thank-a me.” She shuffled across the street.
Resisting the urge to shout, I’ll thank-a you when you leave me be, I stormed inside the tavern.
Veronica and Glenda were back at the bar, staring at the TV.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
Veronica’s blue eyes were cloudy. “There’s been another blood-bank incident. We’re waiting for the news conference to start.”
I glanced at the screen as Sullivan took the podium. “So that’s why the officer dragged him from his office today.”
“I’d like to drag the detective from his office”—Glenda raised her cigarette holder to her lips—“to my boudoir. Just look at the way he’s gripping that podium. If he put that vice grip on me—”
“Sh.” I shushed her with a surly stare, irritated that I was irritated. I trained my gaze on Sullivan’s face, careful to avoid his hands.
He grabbed the microphone and forced it toward him.
I swallowed and resolved to try harder to focus on his face.
Sullivan glanced to his left at the superintendent, who nodded. “It is with great regret that we inform you of a break-in at The Blood Bank on Governor Nicholls Street at approximately three a.m. this morning.”
“Three a.m.?” I echoed.
Veronica touched my arm. “What is it?”
“That’s right around the time Josh Santo gave Sullivan the slip.” I looked at the TV.
“The blood stores were untouched. However…” The detective fell silent and clenched his jaw. “An employee of the establishment was found deceased at the scene.”
10
The door to the Compte Jacques de Saint Germain’s former home opened with a creak. Josh appeared and shielded his eyes from the morning sun.
My eyebrows arched like bat wings. “Batman pajamas? Really?”
He looked at his attire. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Individuals under investigation for living as vampires should probably avoid anything with bats, particularly after a killing involving blood.”
“I hadn’t thought about that.” He stroked his furry face. “Would you like to come in?”
With the daytime pedestrian traffic, the count’s house didn’t seem as creepy. But Josh still did. “Only if we keep the door open.”
He gestured for me to pass.
I shot a wary stare at his hand. “You go on ahead. Then I’ll come in.”
“That’s cool.” He stifled a yawn and headed inside. “I’m going to get some coffee. Want some?”
“I’ll pass.” The wine weighed heavily on my mind.
I stepped into the entryway and entered the living room. Sunlight streamed from the windows, giving the bright red space an inviting feel that had been absent the night before.
Emboldened by the warm vibe, I followed Josh into the kitchen. But I didn’t close the front door. “I’m amazed you’re not in jail.”
“I was at the police station until a few hours ago.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Money buys good attorneys.”
“It must, because you’re doing everything you can to make yourself the prime suspect in these murders.”
He sipped from his mug. “How do you figure?”
“Your behavior, your clothes, your house.” I leaned my forearms on the far end of the island. “And somehow you even look like de Saint Germain, and Richard Chanfray.”
He smirked. “Well, I did study abroad in France.”
The look I gave him was lethal.
“That was a joke
. Gah. Do I look three hundred years old?”
“No, but a witch I met during my last case didn’t look three hundred either.”
“Whoa. You know a witch?”
“That’s not the point, okay? I don’t believe anyone can be that old, but something is off about you. And if I’m going to work for you, you have to stop the nighttime prowling.”
He pulled himself onto the black granite countertop and cradled his coffee. “That was impressed upon me by my attorney.”
“Good. Because there’s an actual vampire suspect in this case, and you act more suspicious than she does.” I pulled my black sweater over my waistband. “Now get some furniture, would you? You’re not helping yourself or me by living like the compte.”
“I know, but furniture is hard.” He spoke in a whine. “I get overwhelmed when I have too many options. And I can’t decide who to hire to help me decorate.”
“I’ll simplify it for you. Don’t hire a mortician.”
He recoiled and curled his lip. “Why would I do that?”
I straightened, preparing to tackle some tough topics and, if the conversation took a wrong turn, him. “I came in here last night, okay? I know about the coffin.”
He looked offended rather than outraged. “You broke into my house?”
“A window was open.” I skipped the minor detail of me opening it. “And it’s not like you have anything to steal.”
“Uh, my action figure collection?”
Was this kid for real? “What is a coffin doing in your bedroom?”
“It came with the house.”
My eyelids lowered to likely story mode. “Did the big red floor stain come with the house too?”
Josh banged the back of his head against the cabinet. “Ugh. So I spilled some wine.” He pointed at me. “I might be careless, but you have trust issues.”
I shot him a look that said the next red spill would be his blood. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to trust anyone who impersonates a homicidal vampire. Now, I have to ask you this. Did you kill that man at The Blood Bank?”
“His name was Todd Plank.”
My eyes grew as big as the floor stain. “You knew him?”
He held up his hand. “I didn’t say that. Detective Sullivan told me his name during questioning. And I didn’t kill him.”
“Then why did you ditch Sullivan last night?”
“I was hiding. He was in plain clothes, so I didn’t know who he was.”
Any normal person would hide from a French Quarter stalker in the middle of the night, but not in a cemetery. In The Big Easy, those places were disturbing, and dangerous, as Gregg’s murder attested. “He said you vanished right in front of him, like an apparition.”
“I slipped inside a tomb.”
My stomach rose up as though it wanted to escape from my mouth and run screaming. “Inside?”
Josh’s eyes gave a not-again roll. “An empty tomb, all right? Then I watched him and figured out who he was. I stayed hidden, though. That guy’s built like Robocop.”
Despite the circumstances, I was glad he’d noticed Sullivan’s physique too. It was further proof that I wasn’t interested in the detective, just observant. “And this tomb happened to be where Anne Rice buried her fictional vampire, Louis?”
He exhaled and met my gaze. “I’m not gonna lie. I idolize Louis. I mean, Brad Pitt played him in the movie. But I went there because it was the closest place I could think of to hide.”
I scrutinized his face. Despite his facial hair, he had a genuine innocence about him, which made me think Veronica might have been right when she’d called him a harmless young man. “What else did the police tell you about the victim?”
Josh was silent.
And his hesitation gave me pause.
“He was hung upside down like Gregg, and his blood was drained the same way.”
My stomach nose-dived into my body cavity. The news confirmed what I’d suspected. The blood bank crimes were linked to Gregg’s death. Were they linked to the ones at Belleville House too?
He placed his mug on the counter. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I told the detective that the killer could’ve been a woman I saw at the intersection of Bourbon and Governor Nicholls.”
“Oh, great.” I threw my head back and then jerked it forward again. Even though I was inclined to believe Josh, I wasn’t ready to bare my naked neck to him. “So you were near The Blood Bank last night.”
“I was hanging out on Bourbon, I swear. But check this out.” He slid to the floor. “I saw her around two thirty. And she was wearing a cape.”
My body tensed, ready for fight and flight, with him on the ground. “Two people wearing a cape in the same area? Come on.”
“I’m not lying.” His whine had returned. “She looked like Little Red Riding Hood. You know, with her head covered?”
Although I was skeptical, I had to consider the lead since there were female suspects in the case. “Did you notice anything else about her?”
“I only got a good look at her when she passed by a street lamp. But she was small, around 5’3” or 5’4”. And she was wearing tights. Or maybe yoga pants.”
My stomach did a downward dog.
Raven?
“Tales from the Crisp?” I pulled David’s cereal box from the office kitchen cabinet and contemplated the coffin-shaped contents. Based on the ingredients, I was going to have to follow it up with a bowl of Fiber the 13th.
Veronica appeared in a black-and-white pantsuit that matched the newspaper in her hand. “You are going to eat cemetery-themed food?”
I dumped some mini coffins into a bowl. “After the Creole Cockroaches at Bayou Cuisine, I figure I can digest anything. And I didn’t eat breakfast before going to Josh’s, so I’m as hungry as a wolf. Make that a werewolf.”
“Your funeral.”
I gave her a death stare.
She opened the paper with a snap. “I came to tell you that Todd Plank wasn’t just any employee at The Blood Bank. He was the CFO.”
“What would a big-time manager be doing at the office at two-thirty in the morning? Those people don’t work.”
“Maybe he was killed earlier. The Times-Picayune doesn’t give a time of death.”
“Then why would Josh or Raven be in the area that late? Returning to the scene of the crime?”
“Or coincidence.” She scanned the article. “It describes him as a family man, an active church member, and an avid runner. He was also a Virginia Tech grad. Shame, isn’t it?”
“I’ll say. Can you imagine having the HokieBird as a mascot? I mean, it’s a goofy turkey on steroids.” I poured milk over the coffins and watched them float. “And why would educated people pick burnt orange and maroon for their school colors? The entire state of Texas knows those shades don’t mix.”
I turned to leave the kitchen with my Tales from the Crisp and found Veronica staring at me like I’d risen from the crypt.
“Honestly, Franki. I was talking about the man’s murder, not his alma mater.”
“Sorry. I’m a little worked up.” I headed to my office with her on my heels. “I’ve been researching medical conditions for vampirism, and in the process I’ve learned something truly bloodcurdling.” I paused to heighten the drama of my discovery. “Vampire serial killers are a thing.”
“What makes them serial killers? She asked the question like we were discussing the vampire breast lift fad rather than a ferocious murderer.
“They feed from people to kill them.” I sat at my chair, cradling my bowl. “There was one in Germany, one in Japan, and three in the U.S. And, in at least two of the cases, the men claimed to be centuries-old vampires.”
She tossed the newspaper on my desk and leaned against the doorframe. “So you think we have a vampire serial killer in New Orleans?”
“Now that there’s been a second murder, yes.” I scooped a couple of coffins. “And get this. One from Massachusetts, who was called ‘The Schizophre
nic Vampire,’ drank his own grandmother’s blood, which is eerily reminiscent of that grandfather at Belleville House.”
“Is that what psychologists attribute this to? Schizophrenia?”
“That or paraphilia, which is sexual perversion.” I shot her a squeamish look. “I haven’t found any condition that causes a physical need to consume blood, but I did find something called Clinical Vampirism, or Renfield’s Syndrome, which is an obsession with drinking blood.”
Veronica stuck out her tongue and crossed her arms. “So what’s your next move?”
“Well, tonight I have the waste-cooking class and before that Anthony’s interview. In the meantime, Sullivan isn’t returning my calls about the Plank murder, and I need to figure out if Todd knew anyone on the Vampires and Victims tour.” I chewed the skin on my thumbnail. “If he didn’t, the killer could be someone from the community at large.”
“I don’t know. My instincts tell me it was someone from the tour. Have you talked to the Utah family or Linda’s friend?”
I crunched the coffins. “I’ve left messages for them. Somehow I need to verify whether Josh really saw Raven near The Blood Bank. But she’s not likely to admit to that, so I’m thinking about tailing her after the cotillion.”
“Make sure David goes with you.” Her eyes narrowed into an or-else stare. “If there is a serial killer, I don’t want you investigating alone.”
“Trust me, I don’t want that either.”
She moved to leave and stopped. “By the way, it’s probably for the best that Sullivan isn’t returning your calls.”
“Except that I no longer have his input on the case.”
She shrugged. “You’ve solved murder cases without him. You’ll do it again.”
I smiled on the outside while my inside wrestled with an uncomfortable reality—I was disappointed that Sullivan hadn’t called. And I didn’t know if it was because I was going to miss having a big, burly sidekick on a skincrawler of a case, or because I was going to miss him.
The lobby buzzer sounded.
“Yo, sis!”
I knew one guy I wasn’t going to miss—that is, if I could ever get him out of my house. “Why, Veronica? Seriously, just why?”
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