Bracing my feet on the floor, I rolled my chair from side to side. “Yeah, but she was just repeating doctor’s office gossip, so I’d be hard-pressed to come up with her motive. And as pink and petite as she is, she hardly seems like the blood-drinking type.”
“What about that Utah family? Did you ever get a hold of them?”
I pushed from the chair, too anxious to stay seated. “No. And if this undercover sting doesn’t produce anything incriminating on Thomas, it might be worth a trip to Utah to track down the Bacigalupis.”
“Personally, I think your efforts would be best spent on finding Craig. If what that frat boy Jeremy told you about the blood transfusion is true, then he and his grandma could be in hiding.”
“You mean under police protection, right? Because that would explain why Sullivan didn’t tell me Craig had been reported missing.”
She studied her French manicure. “But it’s also possible that they went into hiding on their own, and Sullivan just didn’t share the news of the report. I could see Craig not wanting to invite unnecessary scrutiny on himself because of those Adderall pills you found at the frat house.”
“If those pills were even his, he could’ve easily gotten rid of them.” I twisted my hair and stared unseeing at the floor. “What I’m afraid of is that one or both of them is dead.”
The lights flickered, and the room went dark.
I returned to the window, worried that the power outage was a darker omen than the storm.
Veronica stood. “I’ll get the candles from the kitchen.”
“I’ll go. I need to move around.” I turned and collided with an ape-like figure towering in the doorway.
My scream was primal. Was it a Vampire Bigfoot?
“Franki, really.” Veronica pressed a hand to her heart. “It’s Carnie.”
I exhaled. I was half right, anyway.
Carnie removed her rain poncho. “I’m not surprised you’d be terrified since I’m disguised as you.”
Even in the dim light I could see that her costume was no mirror image. Her wig was the color and consistency of the bearskin rug on my living room floor. And she’d accessorized Mom jeans, a shapeless sweater, and worn boots with a cloth version of my leather hobo bag that looked like a sack a Depression-era freight hopper would’ve carried.
I unclenched my lips. “Not that I’m admitting you look like me, but didn’t you get the memo that we don’t want the director of Belleville House to know I’m involved in this sting?”
“Oh, he’s not going to recognize you.” She tossed her wet poncho on my desk. “You’re too forgettable.”
My fists clenched. I wanted to go ape on her.
The lights flickered on, and the lobby door slammed.
“Yo, sis. If you’re in heuh, come out subito.”
I threw my head back. Carnie and Anthony at the same time were more than a bad sign. They were a curse.
My brother macho-walked into the room in a white Italia-emblazoned tracksuit followed by my nonna in a mourning veil. “What’s this about you usin’ Nonna as vampire bait?”
I met his chest with mine. “She knows I don’t want her to go in that retirement home. But it’s not like we can count on you to help, can we?”
“Smettetela,” Nonna ordered.
We did what she said. It wasn’t the Italian Stop it that shut us down, but the black handbag she’d raised. She’d never actually hit us with it, but we’d had occasion to see it in action. And the damage it had inflicted was worse than a baseball bat made of lead.
Nonna raised her veil. “I’m-a siciliana. I can track a man like a blood-a-hound.”
No one knew that as well as I did. She’d been on the trail of my future husband for almost fifteen years. “Still, I wish you wouldn’t do this, Nonna. I would never live it down if something happened to you.”
She put a hand on my cheek. And gave me a smack. “Toughen up-a, nipote mia. There’s a vampire after you, and we gotta get him-a first.”
I rubbed my face. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve sworn she’d been in the mob.
Veronica turned to Carnie. “Now that we’ve settled that, however unconventionally, let’s get this mic on you.”
She pulled up her sweater, revealing her boobie-bib.
“Eyyy!” Anthony stroked his stubble and gave a nod. “Sweet bullet-proof vest.”
He’d obviously never seen the drag queen undergarment, and I wasn’t about to explain it to him. But what did he think the latex breasts were, bullet stoppers?
“Hey, sis.” He snickered and backhanded my bicep. “Does she look like you, or what?”
If Nonna hadn’t been beside me with her bag, I would’ve ripped off a bullet stopper and beaten him with it.
Veronica clipped the mic to Carnie’s bib and tucked the earpiece wire under her wig. “Since both you and Carmela will be wearing a wire, we’ll have to turn off one of your receivers when we’re listening from my car. Franki, can you go into the lobby for a test?”
“Glad to.” I picked up the receiver and fled the room. I parked on a couch and listened to the chatter in my office via the tiny device.
“Will I be able to wear my rain poncho?” Carnie asked. “Or will it dislodge the mic when I take it off?”
“It shouldn’t,” Veronica said. “Since it drapes over you like a cape.”
Josh came to mind. And so did the other caped figures associated with the case—the one on the video of The Blood Bank break-in prior to Gregg’s murder, the one in the cemetery by my house, and the one Josh had seen at The Blood Center the night Todd died. Were the caped creepers the same person? Or had Josh been right when he said that the one he saw was a woman?
“Come in, Franki 2,” Carnie cooed into the mic in her falsetto.
I refused to respond since I was clearly Franki 1.
“Oh, how silly of me. You probably didn’t recognize me since I didn’t imitate your voice.” Carnie cleared her throat. “Come in out there now,” she boomed in a crass male baritone.
I squeezed the receiver and visualized her head. I was tall for a woman, but I’d never been mistaken for a man.
A shock ran through me, but it wasn’t from the device.
I had the distinct sensation I’d been doing that very thing.
Mistaking the killer for a man.
Rain pummeled the roof of Veronica’s white Audi. Even though I was safe and dry inside the car, I felt like I was drowning. Nonna and Carnie had been inside Belleville House for a mere minute, and I’d been unable to breathe for every one of those sixty seconds. We’d parked only thirty yards away, but given my fears about the situation, the retirement home might as well have been located on the moon.
Veronica patted my arm. “Inhale. Everything’s fine.”
So she thought. But it seemed like I’d sent my nonna inside the Colosseum to face hungry lions. Nevertheless, I switched off her receiver since Carnie would be doing most of the talking.
“I’ll take you to Mr. Van Scyoc’s office now.” The nurse’s voice came in clear through Carnie’s receiver. “But keep in mind that we’d like to go home sometime tonight.”
I turned in the passenger seat. “That’s surly Nurse Ratched, a.k.a. Sylvia. I swear she had something to do with this.”
“Rudeness doesn’t make a murderer, Franki.”
“No, but Josh saw a petite woman in a cape near the blood bank on the night Todd died, and this nurse is petite. At the time, I suspected Raven. But now that she’s dead, I think it could’ve been someone working with Thomas.”
“You have nothing linking this nurse to the crimes. And for all we know, the woman Josh saw was an innocent passerby.”
“When are two people wearing capes at the same event?”
“A vampire ball?”
She had me there. “Okay, but randomly on the street? Capes aren’t that common. And think about it. If some kind of blood business is going on in Belleville House, it’s likely that a nurse is in on it.”
“It’s more likely that Raven took blood from those patients, got fired, and that was the end of it.”
The creak of a door hinge made me stiffen.
“Mr. Van Scyoc? Francine Clamato and her grandmother, Carmen Miranda are here for their appointment.”
I turned squarely in my seat and glared at Veronica. “That’s how she disguises Franki Amato and Carmela Montalbano?”
Veronica looked out her window. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
I grabbed the fast-food bag at my feet. We’d stopped by Willie’s Chicken Shack so I could stress-eat Cajun tenders. But after hearing those names I regretted not getting one of Willie’s 190 daiquiris with Everclear.
“Welcome to Belleville House.” Thomas sounded almost sincere. “We’re thrilled that you would visit. I’m the executive director.”
“You got a wife-a?” Nonna asked.
I smacked the Willie’s bag. “Is she actually trying to fix me up with a vampire serial killer?”
“Shh.” Veronica slapped my thigh. “Between you and the rain, I can’t hear what he’s saying.”
I shoved a Cajun tender in my mouth to plug it up.
“I’m sorry about that, Mr. Van Scyoc.” Carnie’s tone was terse. “Grandmama does like to meddle.”
“It’s-a Nonna. Do I look-a British?”
Veronica pressed a hand to her temple. “This isn’t going well.”
“You think?” I loaded another tender.
Thomas chuckled. “We have quite a few matchmakers here, so I’m used to it. But tell me, which care service were you interested in? We offer independent and assisted living, as well as memory care.”
“Independent, definitely,” Carnie drolled.
“You got-a that right, buster.”
I sunk into my seat and wished the rain would carry me away. If Nonna didn’t be quiet, she’d blow Carnie’s cover.
“Well, we have a lovely facility with a lot of recreational activities. Are there any in particular you’re interested in, Mrs. Miranda?”
“The bath-a-rooms.”
Thomas gave a breathy laugh. “We have private baths in every room, and in every hallway in the building.”
Veronica turned toward me. “He’s really chatty. I thought you said talking to him was like trying to get blood from a stone?”
“Nice analogy,” I snarked. “I’m sure you’re proud of yourself.”
She smiled as though she was.
“I told you, Thomas is weird. So he probably likes Carnie.”
A creak sounded.
I reached for a tender. “I think he just shut the door.”
Veronica raised the receiver.
“Actually,” Carnie said, “we have a medical need I’d like to talk to you about. And it’s urgent.”
The way she’d stressed urgent had me concerned. That wasn’t part of the script as far as I knew. But neither was the Francine Clamato and Carmen Miranda bit.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure we can accommodate it. We have round-the-clock nursing care headed by Sylvia Blaylock, the RN who brought you to my office.”
I tapped Veronica. “Hear that? She’s the head nurse, so she had to be aware of the blood incidents.”
“That’s comforting, Mr. Van Scyoc, because my grandmother has aplastic anemia.”
“Wow.” Thomas’s surprise was genuine. “I would’ve never guessed. She looks so vibrant.”
“It’s her Mediterranean diet.”
“We have a dietician on staff and meal plans that would support her condition.”
“Mm hm.” Carnie didn’t sound convinced. “What we need is a doctor who can perform frequent blood transfusions.”
The room was silent, and Veronica and I both sat taller.
“I see,” Thomas said. “Our nursing staff can perform transfusions as needed.”
“Yes, well.” Carnie paused. “This is rather delicate, but I’ve heard some rumors about Belleville House.”
“That problem has been addressed.” The lukewarmth had left his words. “I have a brochure that vouches for the quality and integrity of our medical staff. Let me find that for you.”
Wood scraped as though a drawer had opened, and papers shuffled.
“That’s odd,” he said. “I seem to be out of them. Let me run and get one for you.”
The door creaked.
“Can you hear me, Franki 2?” Carnie whispered into the mic.
“I’m Franki 1, Francine.”
“More like Franki 1000, but we’ll discuss that later. We’ve got a problem. Carmela slipped out, and I’m betting Thomas went to find her.”
The Cajun tenders Zydeco-danced up my throat. That was why she’d stressed the word “urgent.”
I grabbed my nonna’s receiver and flipped the On switch. “Where are you, Nonna? Come in.”
And then I waited, my whole body tense.
“Her mic is silent, Carnie,” Veronica said. “Can you check the nearest ladies room?”
Lightning flashed, and I felt like I’d been struck. I didn’t hear Carnie’s reply because I’d already exited the car.
I ran down Royal Street with Nonna’s receiver pressed to my ear. But all I heard were the sounds of traffic and my feet splashing in puddles.
Had my Nonna gone to the bathroom and turned off her mic out of modesty?
Or had someone turned it off for her, like that Nurse Ratched, Sylvia?
19
“Carmela, is that you?”
The elderly man’s words stopped me in the street, despite the hard rain pelting me like rocks.
“Luigi Pescatore.” Nonna’s tone was a mix of wonder and affection. “I haven’t seen-a you since-a 1973.”
“Those were fun times, eh? Back when you still had your produce business in the Quarter with Giuseppe.”
“God rest-a his soul.” Her tone had turned wistful after the mention of my grandfather.
Veronica pulled up, and I opened the passenger door.
“Carnie’s looking for her,” she said as I climbed inside the Audi. “But I’ll go in with you.”
“Not yet.” I pulled the door closed. “I hear her. She’s talking to some man who knew her and my nonnu.”
Veronica reached into the back seat and handed me a towel.
I put the receiver on the console and dried my face and hands.
“So, how did you know I was here?” Luigi asked.
“I saw you walk-a through the lobby and come-a to this-a room.”
He gave a raspy laugh. “I talked my way into this apartment after a guy died because it’s near the action. Speaking of action, you look good in black, signora.”
I recoiled so hard the back of my head hit the window. “What kind of man flirts with a woman in a mourning dress?”
“An Italian.”
I had to give Veronica that.
“What are you doing in New Orleans?” Luigi asked. “I thought you moved away.”
“I’m-a still living in-a Houston with-a my son, Joe. But I’m visiting my nipote, Franki.”
I tensed and reached for the Cajun tenders. “What if Thomas or Sylvia is listening outside the door?”
“You’ll go in and get her,” Veronica said, “and I’ll call the police.”
“Franki’s a private investigator.” Nonna’s pride was audible. “And she’s-a talented.”
I appreciated the vote of confidence, but not at that time or in that place. Because I wanted her to stop saying my name and leave.
“Is she as pretty as her nonna?” Luigi flirted.
“Lusingatore.”
“Flatterer, indeed.” My emotions roller-coastered from a high of fear for her safety to a low of outrage at his advances. “What if he’s one of those sweetheart swindlers who prey on old women for their money?”
Veronica tilted her head like I was unbalanced.
I popped a tender into my mouth and resolved to eat my emotions rather than express them, as I’d been brought up to do.
/> “What brings you to Belleville House?” Luigi asked. “Did you come to see Mario Lupone? He’s down the hall, you know.”
“I didn’t know he was-a here. I came-a to check-a the place out. But with-a so many handsome men-a, it’s-a good-a place to retire.”
My mouth dropped open. Forget Luigi. What was my mourning-dress-wearing nonna doing flirting with a man?
Luigi’s laugh became a cough. “It’s in the French Quarter, so it’s a great place to live. But…”
My stomach clenched. I didn’t like the way his voice trailed off.
“But-a what?”
“You’re not hard of hearing are you?” His pitch had lowered, and my heart rate had followed suit.
“Nossignore. My ears work-a fine.”
“Good. Because I can’t say this too loud.”
Veronica and I exchanged an arched-brow look and leaned closer to the receiver.
“It’s fine for me to live here,” he whispered, “because I’ve got a blood disorder.”
I reached across the console and grabbed my best friend’s hand.
“But if you’re healthy, go somewhere else. Because sooner or later, they’ll put something in your food to knock you out. And while you’re unconscious, they’ll steal your blood.”
Veronica and I were no longer holding hands because we were gripping our faces.
“Who told-a you this?” Nonna asked.
“It’s a retirement home. We all talk, in our rooms, the cafeteria, the recreation center, you name it. And we look out for each other, which is how I know what’s going on.”
There was a knocking sound.
“They found her.” I grabbed the passenger door handle, and Veronica grabbed my forearm.
“Who is it?” Luigi called.
A click followed. “There you are.” Carnie’s tone was calm, so I relaxed a little. “You had me worried, Nonna.”
“That’s your granddaughter?” Luigi’s shock blasted through the receiver like a bullhorn. “She’s big for an Italian.”
Despite the scary situation, my lips spread into a grin.
Carnie harrumphed. “Big is an ironic choice of words from such a small man.”
Campari Crimson Page 22