Blood Stakes

by Upton, Bradley

  “Who is out there with you now?” Malcolm asked calmly.

  “Greg.” Jerry replied. He didn’t like where this was going.

  Malcolm pursed his lips and quickly scanned the room. His eyes stopped on the desk. He picked up a letter opener. “Take this. It’s rather sharp. Wipe it down. Go find some gloves to wear to keep your fingerprints off of it,” he continued, “Since the accountant had just arrived he was still wearing gloves. You can say you were in the other room when Greg was killed. You heard the commotion but were too frightened to try and stop the murder. When he left you came out of hiding.” Malcolm didn’t say it outright but the instruction was understood, murder Greg.

  “What if they don't believe me?” Jerry's hand trembled as he took the letter opener. He had never seen Malcolm be so callous about human life. The system at the church made it so the masters didn’t have to take any human life but still he was dealing with a vampire.

  “Would a pious man like you lie?” Malcolm said with mock reverence. “If the police give you any trouble I will talk to my friend, Chief Inspector Henderson tonight. And if they want to see me today tell them I am out of town until tonight and can’t be reached.” Jerry hesitated. “You do want to be one of us, right? Sometimes drastic measures are needed to keep us safe.”

  Jerry nodded and left. Malcolm went to the office door and locked it. He was confident Jerry would do what he ordered. If he didn’t, Jerry would be the second victim of a double homicide.

  Jerry stood outside the door for a minute. The door lock clicked behind him. He walked out of the chapel to the lobby. Greg looked up from the papers on the desk. “Need something?” he asked.

  “No, nothing. Back in a minute.” Jerry walked out of the church and stood in the cluster of buildings around the chapel. He needed gloves if he were to kill Greg. He couldn’t get any blood on him. He entered the break room kitchen where he and the other aides took meals. There was a refrigerator and two tables with chairs. A bulletin board with a cleaning schedule was near the door. Jerry walked to the sink. There was a pair of rubber yellow gloves for washing dishes. That would do. But what about his clothes? If he was covered in blood spatter the story wouldn’t work.

  His eye landed on a magnetic hook stuck to the side of the fridge. There was an apron hanging there. Jerry put on the apron and the gloves. He washed and dried the letter opener to remove any latent prints.

  Jerry walked back to the double doors of the chapel and hesitated. With the bright yellow gloves and the apron on he thought he must have looked odd. What if Greg fought back? Jerry would have to take him by surprise. He opened the door and entered.

  “Greg, I need you to do something.”

  Greg looked up from the papers on the desk. He frowned. “What’s the apron for?” Was it cleaning? He didn’t like to clean. Not at the church, not at home.

  “Actually the Masters need something from you.” Jerry walked up to the desk. Greg responded quickly. If the Masters needed something, he was there to serve. He moved from around the desk and stood in front of Jerry. “What do they need?”

  Jerry looked at him sadly. “They need your life.”

  Greg’s eye’s widened and he smiled broadly. He was going to be changed!

  Jerry plunged the letter opener into Greg's chest. It was sheer luck his aim was true. The small sharp instrument passed between two ribs and pierced the beating heart. Jerry grabbed Greg as he fell and laid him on the ground. As far as a killing went, it looked quick and painless though he had nothing to gauge it by. Jerry watched as the light left Greg’s eyes.

  He looked at the apron and gloves. No trace of blood anywhere. Excellent. Jerry walked into the chapel after stripping off the gloves and sticking them in the apron pocket. He walked to the office door and knocked gently. Was Malcolm still in there? Had he disappeared for the day? No one knew for certain where he went for the day, but it was suspected he had a secret door somewhere in his office.

  “Master?” Jerry knocked again. “Are you there?”

  The locks clicked open and Malcolm appeared at the door.

  “It’s done?” Malcolm looked at the apron.

  Jerry nodded. “It’s done.”

  “Where is he?”

  “In the atrium.”

  Malcolm strode out of the office. He moved through the chapel to the atrium doors being sure to avoid the sunlight filtering through the stained glass windows. At the doors to the lobby he surveyed the murder scene. He stood looking at the body on the floor for a minute, his face showed growing displeasure. “One blow?” Malcolm asked.

  “Yes.” Jerry replied. “He didn’t suffer. It was very quick.”

  “Impressive. But I didn’t need an assassin. I needed a monster. I needed a sociopath. Someone who did a crime so horrific the police will be on his trail like a pack of dogs.” The vampire frowned. “Keep going. Be savage. Strike the face and neck as well as the torso. One wound looks like a plan. This crime scene needs to be so gruesome as to make the strong blanch.” Malcolm turned and walked back into the chapel.

  Jerry pulled the gloves out of the apron and put them on. This was going to be horrible, horrible work. Was it really worth it?

  Chapter 9

  Questions

  Maggie arrived at the police station at nine in the morning. She hummed softly to herself as she walked to the records department, greeting co-workers genially as she passed by. She was passing homicide when she noticed a flurry of activity and the detectives hustling their way out the door. There must have been a murder. Nothing was unusual about that, just daily police business.

  Maggie entered her office and started a pot of coffee. She had her own coffee maker because the coffee in the station was exceedingly bad. She liked a dark roast blend from Columbia not the brew which could strip paint off a car from the urn in the squad room which was never cleaned.

  After a couple hours of work she received a call to go see the captain of homicide department in his office. This wasn’t unusual. She dealt with all the departments.

  Maggie knocked on his door; the man sitting at the desk looked through the window in the door and motioned for her to enter. She turned the knob and opened the door. Two homicide detectives were standing to her right. They stopped talking when she entered.

  “You wanted to see me, Captain?” She shut the door behind her and stood in front of the desk.

  “Yes I did, Officer Collins.” He looked at the papers in front of him before continuing. “Someone was referred to records yesterday. A man in his late thirties, short dark hair, he had on a dark suit. Do you remember him?”

  Maggie hesitated for a brief moment; the captain was speaking of John. “Yes sir. I remember him. His name is John Bryant.”

  “What did he want?” The captain glanced at the two detectives who were watching Maggie closely.

  “He said he was a writer looking for some information.” Maggie replied. Something was wrong but she didn’t know what. Having homicide ask questions about John was unexpected.

  “Information? Information about what exactly?”

  “Murders.” Maggie said straight forward. When asked questions the easiest thing was to tell the truth. The captain looked at the two detectives meaningfully. Maggie continued, “He said he was writing a book and was looking for bizarre and sensational murders.”

  “Did you give him anything?”

  “I gave him some data which was in the public domain. Nothing was really that bizarre, though. The sensational stuff was more mob related than anything else. Some solved cases, some unsolved cases which were cold. Nothing current which could hinder any current or pending trials.” She said. “Why do you ask? What’s happened?”

  The captain pulled a grainy black and white photograph from under a sheet of paper and handed it to her. “Is this him? And it looks like you are standing next to him.”

  “Yes. That’s him and, yes, that’s me. Where did you get this?”

  “There was a murder at a church
early this morning. He’s the main suspect.” said one of the detectives.

  “What?” She stared at him in disbelief.

  “The question I would like answered is why are you in a photo with him?” The pinched faced detective asked. This could quickly escalate into an interrogation if they didn't like her answers. Again, the truth seemed simplest course.

  “When he was here yesterday, I asked him out.” She looked at the captain and shrugged. “He was kind of cute and he wasn’t a cop. Know what I mean? Love you guys to death, would cover your back if the shit hit the fan, but I wouldn’t date any of you.”

  “I understand.” said the captain. “So did you go out last night? What did you do?”

  She noticed one of them was taking notes. “We met at Armando’s, had some pasta and wine. When we left the restaurant but it was still early so we wandered around Vegas on foot. We walked by this church and he wanted to go in. We went in for a little bit and then left.”

  “Why’d he want to go to the church?”

  “I don't know.” Maggie said. They looked at her. She could tell they weren’t buying her story. “Really, I don’t know. We were joking about marriage chapels in Vegas and crap like that. When we walked past this church, you could hear a muffled booming voice. He wanted to go in so we did. We were there for about three minutes, didn't even sit down.”

  “What happened after the church?” The detective asked.

  “We walked back to the cars at the restaurant and went our separate ways. It was maybe ten thirty or Eleven.”

  “The employee at the church said he was their accountant and had embezzled money. When he was confronted he stabbed the victim to death.”

  “That’s ridiculous. When we went in the man working there didn’t recognize him.” Maggie protested. "Also, he doesn’t seem the type. Why would he come to the police looking for information on murders if he’s planning to kill someone at the place he works the next day?"

  “It wasn’t planned. He was caught stealing and it was a momentary break. He was cornered. Desperate men do rash things.” The detective was looking for a gotcha moment and failed.

  “I’m not buying it. This smells. After spending an evening with him I think I have a pretty good idea what he could do. He wouldn’t harm anyone. Honestly, he’s too nice. It’s off putting how nice he is.” Maggie said. The detective raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘Too nice? Really?’ “You do remember I’m a cop, right? You may think I’m vacationing down in records, but I still have instincts just like you. I’m not going to be in records forever. I’m thinking of transferring back to patrol duty. Soon, maybe.” Maggie paused and glanced at the two detectives. “My career path is none of your business so don’t you dare spread any statements made here, in private, around.” she said pointedly. “I know how gossip travels around here.”

  “Understood, Officer Collins.” Captain Walters looked at the two detectives. “I’m certain you didn’t hear anything which doesn’t concern you, correct?”

  “Correct, Sir.” They said simultaneously.

  “Thank you.” Maggie turned to the captain. “I don’t know what happened with the victim but I don’t think it was John Bryant.”

  “The name they gave us at the church was Robert McCarthy.”

  “Someone is spinning a tale. I’d bring in the eye witness and let him stew for a while. Stick him in interrogation and let him sweat for a few hours. This is fishy. Why would an accountant say he was a writer? Why come to the police to get information on murders under false pretenses and then go murder someone?”

  “The man could be unbalanced. He could have done it as a challenge to the police.” said the second detective who had stood silently taking notes.

  “Really? Think about it seriously. An accountant is actually an evil genius and he’s challenging the police. You’re saying a writer of suspense is taunting the police to find him and stop him? This fucker isn’t Steven King, he’s not writing The Shining. The captain is right. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “What about the eye witness?” Note taker said as if the question would vindicate all the nonsense of the situation.

  “He could be lying.” Maggie shot back. Before the detective could interject, Maggie continued. “Why? I don’t know. Bring him in and ask him.”

  “We’re going to do just that. Like you pointed out there are too many holes in this case.” The captain turned to the detectives. “Bring in the eyewitness for questioning. Try to break his story. Also find this writer or accountant or whoever he is. Bring him in for questioning.” The captain pulled out a pair of scissors out of the desk and cut Maggie out of the picture. “Take this picture and have copies made. Officer Collins is not a part of this investigation. And if she were to become a part of it, we know where to find her. Got it? Get a hold of the preacher at the church. I want to see him and their books as soon as possible.”

  “The eye witness said the pastor is out of town and will get back tonight around 6 or 7 pm. They have a sermon tonight. They said if you needed him, you should go there.” The detective said. He knew there would be a bad reaction from the captain.

  “I’m not at the beck and call of a preacher. He can get his ass down here.” Captain Walters snapped. “Dismissed!” The two detectives left quickly.

  The captain looked at Maggie. “Are you requesting reassignment?”

  “I’d like to get back on the streets sometime soon.” Maggie would have rather avoided the subject of her future. “The wound has healed nicely.”

  “Copy that. How about the scars?” He was referring to the mental scars of being shot. “They can stay with a person for a lifetime. It can cause you to second guess and hesitate.”

  “Those are taking a little longer. What I really need is to get out there in the field again. Being a desk jockey is going to make me crazy sooner or later.”

  “I understand.” The captain tapped on his desk and made a crazy face. “Get out of here, Collins.”

  “Thanks, Captain.” She left the office and walked slowly back to records. Should she contact John? How could she get in touch with him? Should she tell him he’s being hunted by the police? She didn’t have his number or address where he lived. He said he was staying at a motel. Something was off. Did he lie to her or was it a variation on the truth rather than an outright lie? There were things about John which didn’t make sense. Now he was wanted for murder at the church where they stopped in for just a moment. Was it a coincidence they ended up at that church? He forced them to leave the church rather rapidly, as if in a panic, but gave no explanation for his actions. She suppressed the urge to speculate further.

  If he called she would ask for an explanation. And maybe warn him he was a murder suspect.

  Chapter 10

  A Plan Forms

  Before the police were called to a murder scene at the Evangelical Church of LV, the mortal retainers of the church were pursuing leads from the hotel where Ice had been attacked. They had the door unlocked by the maid and conducted a thorough but ultimately fruitless examination. There was no blood spatter, the room was not destroyed in the fight. There was no indication where the priest had gone. Did he move to another hotel or did he leave town?

  As for the struggle between the priest and Ice, it had been a quick attack and Ice had wisely fled rather than risk true death. The retainers knew the Masters were, for all intents and purposes, immortal, but they could still be harmed. They weren’t indestructible. To know harm could befall the masters shook their world view. They all hoped to be turned one day, to cheat death. It was why they followed Malcolm in the first place. This situation scared them.

  The day desk clerk told them John Bryant had checked out very early in the morning and didn’t say where he was bound. A greasing of the clerk’s palm got them his phone number and address. Discreet phone calls would be made to inquire as to the priest’s location. Another call would be placed to the credit card company to report the card as stolen. The chances he would b
e arrested for using a stolen card were slim. They were hoping to freeze some assets and impede his escape.

  They wondered if he were alone in his knowledge of vampires or was it now a church wide belief? The Catholic Church was a worldwide organization with hundreds of millions of followers. If they believed in vampires the race could be extinguished. Secrecy and modern disbelief was the best defense from eradication. If humans were widely convinced of vampires being real, the follower’s dreams of living forever would be dashed. Guidance would have been reassuring but it was daytime. They were safely asleep. The obvious action was to search every hotel and motel in the city and the surrounding area. With the manpower they had and the photo, finding the priest shouldn’t be difficult if he was still in town. They assumed he would still be in town, hiding under a new name. What man of the cloth would leave an evil menace in peace?

  The task of going from hotel to hotel was more laborious than they figured. People who worked the graveyard shift and might have seen him would be home in bed. It was possible the day clerks hadn't seen him. Nonetheless they diligently sought out the priest. All thirty of the retainers were working alone so they could cover more ground. Each one was hoping to find him. Such a discovery might mean an immediate reward. Immortality. This was a great opportunity, one which might start a new nocturnal life.

  It was late afternoon when a young man named Ken found information on the priest. He was walking back to his car after striking out at the front desk. He saw a maid leaving for the day. He stopped her and showed her the photo. Her reaction revealed recognition but she was reluctant to talk. Two twenty dollar bills loosened her tongue. She pointed to room number 112.

  Ken thanked her and glanced at his watch. By the time he made it back everyone would be awake. He could have called he didn't want anything to stand between him and a chance at immortality. No one would steal this from him.