Language in the Blood

by Angela Lockwood

  Chapter 22: Marjorie

  About a month after Yvette’s murder, I decided to sail The Count Dracula into Monaco. I was hoping it’d be far enough away to keep Nanette off my back. I loved Monaco, it attracted all the right people and the parties were, at times, fabulous. It was a strange little place really, with its high rises stuck between the rocks, and the smell of money and champagne everywhere.

  I was pleased to see the Lady Zaza was also in town. It belonged to a game old American bird named Marjorie Callaghan. Like me, she was old but with the mind of a mischievous teenager. She was the heiress to a fortune and three times divorced. These days, she sailed solo and sampled the delights of the Côte without buying the proverbial cow. Divorce number three had made her wise in the ways of bloodsucking leaches. Strangely enough, she loved me.

  ‘Cameron darling! So pleased to see you are here,’ she gushed when I sailed the tender over to the Lady Zaza that night.

  ‘Marjorie, darling, what is your secret? You look younger every day,’ I cooed back.

  ‘You are just so charming with your scotch accent,’ she said, giving my chest a gentle push.

  ‘It’s Scottish darling, but I forgive you as you look so radiant today,’ I said kissing her on both cheeks.

  ‘Oh stop! I could be your grandmother...’

  ‘I’m glad you’re not! My granny used to knit horrible itchy jumpers all day. They were minging,’ I said, grimacing.

  ‘Minging? Oh my, Cameron you are just too quaint,’ she laughed, and then she dragged me below decks to introduce me to her ‘babies’.

  I did love Marjorie. She was great fun and like me she was very much into Yorkshire terriers and jewellery.

  ‘Now. You’ve met Tammy, Dolly and Shania but I have a new sire – Luke Bryan, country star. Isn’t he just darling?’ she lifted up a fine looking Yorkie.

  ‘Oh yes, he is beautiful, but what happened to Kenny Rogers?’ I asked taking the small dog from her and burying my nose in its fur.

  ‘It was just awful. When we got back to the States his fur went dull and he was very listless. My vet said he was suffering from anaemia and put him on a course of iron tablets, but I think it was too little too late. Poor, sweet little Kenny died in my arms. I tell you, Cameron I was just devastated! He was my little baby,’ she said, tearfully.

  ‘That is so sad. Strange how they can just go from healthy to critically ill in the blink of an eye,’ I said innocently. I did feel guilty, but he’d just been so tasty and I had drunk too much. I’d never intentionally have killed one of Marjorie’s dogs.

  ‘So little Luke here looks like he could win prizes,’ I said, holding the dog up admiringly.

  ‘He does! He is already a champion back in the USA, but this year I hope to show him at Crufts.’

  I sat back in the comfortable cushions on her leather sofa. I knew that at some point the Yorkies and I would get to be alone. I’d never had a champion before and it was on my list of delicatessen items to try. I’d have to be more careful thought, and just take a few sips this time. He might win at Crufts and that would be something to chalk up!

  ‘Have you bought anything recently?’ I asked innocently, knowing she would dash off leaving me and Luke to get better acquainted.

  He gave a surprised yelp when I bit his paw and quickly sucked a few mouthfuls. Tasty you are, I whispered in his little ear, while I pressed down with a tissue to stem the flow of blood. He was all clean and tidy and chewing a biscuit when Marjorie walked back in holding a light blue box.

  ‘Oooh, Tiffany you naughty girl,’ I cried in delight.

  ‘I just had to have this ring. Pink diamonds! Aren’t they fabulous?’ She pulled a gorgeous ring out of the box.

  They were very fine diamonds indeed and must have cost her a small fortune. I quickly did a calculation and realised it would probably cover Roberto’s wages for the year. No! Must keep head down! And I like Marjorie. We talked jewellery for a while, but I could see it was close to eleven o’clock and I still wanted to go into town to get some dinner. I called my tender over and bid Marjorie goodnight.

  ‘You must come over tomorrow night, Cameron. I’m having a few people over for cocktails and canapés,’ she said, as I was about to get into the tender. I promised her I would and went into town.

  I went along the next evening, but it wasn’t much of a party. Most of the guests were older and there was no one there I fancied for dinner. I tried to get some alone time with the Yorkies but I didn’t get them by themselves all night. Luke had started to growl at me, and barked if I came too close. A seventy-something called Gladys was annoying the hell out of me as she had the most grating southern accent and kept going on and on about her estate in Georgia. I suspected it probably had been great once, but since the abolition of slavery it would gradually have fallen into disrepair. I also had the impression that she was still lamenting said abolition. If she hadn’t been so old and wrinkled I would gladly have sunk my fangs into her neck. I was pondering whether to call Roberto so I could leave as she loudly rattled off the names of all the important people she socialised with in New York. I hate shameless name dropping – it showed how unimportant she was – but then I heard a name that got my attention.

  ‘You know Joseph Webber?’ I interrupted.

  ‘Why, yes honey! How in the Lord’s name do you know him?’ she asked me, surprised.

  ‘I don’t, but my great-grandfather worked for his father in Paris. What’s he like? By all accounts his dad was a great guy. He knew how to party,’ I told her.

  ‘Joseph doesn’t smoke or drink. He once told me his dad died young because of his drinking, so he doesn’t touch the devil’s nectar. I know him because we attend the same church when I am in New York. Joseph is a good Christian and family man.’

  She went on to tell me about his five children and 16 grandchildren and my attention started to drift again. Poor Charley, he’d have been very disappointed. I was quite sure it hadn’t been the drink that had put Charley in an early grave.

  I called Roberto to bring the tender round and was surprised when, a few minutes later, George turned up instead.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d be back yet,’ I said surprised. He was scheduled to be at his weekly poker game in Antibes.

  ‘Roger couldn’t make it so there were just four of us and we decided to make it an early night,’ he told me.

  ‘I would have gone. You know I love a real game and it would’ve been better than this party,’ I said grumpily.

  ‘I wouldn’t introduce you to my worst enemy, let alone my mates, you weirdo,’ George said. He was laughing, but I knew he was serious.

  ‘Boo! Unfair!’ I said crossing my arms and going into a huff.

  ‘You never take me to any of Andrei’s parties, either, but I think it’s better we keep our lives separate, don’t you? Anyway, what was so wrong with this party?’

  ‘It was just this woman. All fur coat and nae knickers,’ I said

  ‘What? One of Marjorie’s old friends was going commando?’ he asked me surprised.

  ‘What? Commando?’ I asked him, confused.

  ‘Yes, as in she wasn’t wearing any underpants?’ George asked looking equally confused.

  ‘Oh god, no! Now I have to get that vision out of my head! Maybe it’s just an Edinburgh expression – it means you pretend to be someone, but really, underneath the fur coat, there is nothing,’ I explained.

  ‘Oh! I thought wearing a fur coat in this weather was a bit strange, but I thought maybe the old dear was a little batty,’ he said, laughing. He slowed down to let me ashore.

  It was still early so I decided to head into town, maybe I could persuade some girl to come back to the yacht. It wasn’t usually too difficult, as who doesn’t want to sit on the deck of a luxury yacht and sip champagne? I made my way to one of the night clubs and scanned the crowd for some prey.

  Suddenly, I felt an arm wind around my waist and turned to find Olga behind me. Darn! I only liked to feast
on a girl once and then hoped they’d leave me alone and move on if I didn’t call them. I certainly didn’t want Olga in my life.

  ‘Hi Cameron. Why you never call me?’ she asked, pulling a sad face.

  ‘Hi Olga. I’m sorry, I’ve been out of the country for a while. Is Tatiana here too?’ I asked scanning the crowd, pretending she hardly existed.

  ‘Yes, and our friend Anna. She is Russian too.’

  Anna was very pretty, tall and blonde and curvier than the other two – just my type. This was going to be a challenge. How could I not be rude to Andrei’s fiancé, avoid Olga and try to get Anna back to the boat? I bought some champagne and had it sent over to their table. Sergei was there too to keep an eye on Tatiana and he looked his merry old self, only reluctantly allowing me to sit with the girls because he knew I was friendly with Andrei.

  Anna wouldn’t give me the time of day. I had the idea that Tatiana had told her I was nowhere near as rich as Andrei. What was Monaco coming to if having a yacht and being young and attractive couldn’t land you the girl? I was seeing my investment in some very pricey champagne going up in smoke and I started to get annoyed. Who did this Anna think she was? I wanted to do some very bad things to her now.

  ‘So Anna, do you have any pets, a dog maybe?’ I asked her.

  ‘No. And I like cats.’ That figured. Revenge would have to wait as it was getting close to sunrise.

  ‘We go back to boat?’ shouted Olga, right in my ear as the music was very loud.

  ‘No. I need to get up early tomorrow.’ I was hungry, but I wasn’t going to take her with me, the girl would almost certainly get the wrong idea. Sometimes things don’t go according to plan and you just have to weather it and be hungry for a while longer. I made my excuses and left.

  During the next day, I searched frantically online to find out more about Anna. She was on Facebook and her page wasn’t secured. She even mentioned which hotel she was staying at. As I had watched an episode of Dexter earlier, a plan was forming in my mind. Dexter was something of a role model and an inspiration to me at that time. I wished I could get away with leaving so many bodies in my wake.

  The next step would be to get some quality tranquillisers. I knew where one of the vets from the racetrack lived and I’d be able to find some horse tranquilliser there. I broke in that night and found what I needed then I broke in to her hotel room the following night, when I was sure she had gone to sleep. I was wearing a mask and, after turning on the light, I jumped on top of the startled girl. I showed her the scalpel and syringe I had brought with me and injected her with the tranquilliser. Soon, she was asleep, and I made a small incision on her wrist. She’d been drinking champagne so I began to feel more charitable towards the girl. I drank just over a pint and then put a plaster over her wrist. I’d wanted to strip her naked and cut her cheek, but I decided that would be a bit too creepy and unkind. She had provided dinner after all.

  I stripped the bed and laid her out on her back, then I wrapped her to the bed with cling film. I looked at her and her pretty face. Silly girl! We could have had a lot of fun together. Piss a vampire off at your peril! Then I slipped out of the hotel unnoticed.

  When I spoke to Andrei a few days later he told me that Anna had called in hotel security and the French police and all sorts. She was both terrified and furious and swore that she would never set foot in France again. She took a flight back to Moscow as soon as she could.

  The following week Marjorie invited me again to one of her parties and I hoped Gladys wouldn’t be there. She wasn’t, but the party was a disaster anyway; Nanette was there and she hounded me all night.

  ‘Sailing your silly boat from Cannes to Monaco is hardly getting out of town,’ she hissed.

  ‘Thought it was best not to run. It might make people suspicious. I don’t see your problem, though. Nothing in this murder suggests vampire.’

  I was nonchalantly hanging against the railing pretending we were having a light conversation.

  ‘I suppose that Dexter stunt in Nice wasn’t you?’ she hissed at me again.

  ‘Don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I said, all innocence. ‘Darling, we should be friends. We are the same species after all,’ I said, moving close to her. ‘What if we were the last two vampires in the world?’

  I got back a look so chilling that I took an involuntary step backwards. I wondered if I was losing my touch – two women in the past week rebuffing my advances! I was not impressed and wanted to leave. Meanwhile though, Luke had come on deck and started barking when he spotted me.

  ‘Why does that little dog keep barking at you?’ Nanette asked kicking little Luke out of her way with the tip of her shoe. ‘You eat these things, don’t you?’

  I didn’t reply. Instead, I phoned Roberto on my mobile and asked him to bring the tender round. I was in a foul mood and didn’t fancy talking to anybody else. He arrived a few minutes later and I did leave the party, but I wasn’t going to sail out of Monaco just yet. Bloody Nanette did scare me, but not enough to drive me away from a fun place like Monaco when Marjorie was in town. Fair enough, her last two shindigs had been flops but I was sure a third would be a charm.

  ‘Cameron, darling,’ she cooed on the phone a few days later.

  ‘Marjorie, my gem. How are you?’ I cooed back.

  ‘Listen darling, my friend Dahlia is bringing over this medium to the Zaza tonight, you simply have to come!’ she demanded.

  ‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world, my darling,’ I assured her.

  A medium! That could be interesting. She’d certainly see one dead person in the room! I wondered if the old bat would suss me out. I went over just after dark and found a group of about seven of Marjorie’s friends already assembled in the living room. They had left a space for me at the large dining room table. The medium was younger than I’d expected and a rather disappointingly normal forty-something. I wanted more drama and loose, flowing hippy clothes. Even her jewellery was banal; little, plain gold hoops. If you can’t afford anything good, just don’t bother dear!

  We were instructed to sit around the table and hold hands. They had put out the light and lit some candles. Suddenly, the doors to the deck flew open and the candles blew out. The medium gasped for air and convulsed for a bit. Neat tricks! She had brought the drama after all.

  ‘There’s a Thomas Whyte here. Does anyone know a Thomas Whyte?’ she asked, eyes closed so she could concentrate on a voice only she could hear. Bloody hell! She’s conjured up the ghost of wee Tam!

  ‘Ask him how he died,’ said Marjorie.

  ‘He says he’s a Scottish soldier and he died in 1915. He also says he has some unfinished business with a Cameron Blair.’

  Marjorie shrieked at this and pointed over at me. ‘It must be for you, Cameron!’

  ‘Cameron Blair was my great-grandfather’s name. They tell me I look just like him. What business?’ I asked intrigued.

  The medium blushed and became embarrassed.

  ‘Erm, he’s using some foul language!’ she explained.

  ‘Out with it! I’m sure you ladies have heard it all before,’ encouraged Marjorie.

  ‘He says, “Cameron, get the fuck over here you daft cunt, you’re long overdue”.’

  There was a shocked silence then the room erupted in howling laughter. Tam you wee radge! That was pure class!

  When we’d calmed down, we were told to relight the candles as the ghost had left. The ladies shuffled about on their chairs in anticipation. I was sure they all wanted to speak to a dead husband or cat.

  Then: ‘There’s a Cameron Blair here, wanting to talk to Cameron.’

  I saw the ladies looking enviously at me and felt bad hogging all the ghosts.

  ‘That’ll be great-grandad then,’ I said with a wink.

  ‘He wants the rest of him to come over. He says he nearly has his entire soul.’

  The ladies gasped in wonder. What exactly did that mean?

  ‘Cameron. Do you know what
your grandad wants?’ asked the medium, puzzled.

  ‘I think he wants me to go to Scotland, maybe visit his grave and make peace with my family. I think his soul may rest when mine does,’ I said, trying to sound sincere and philosophical. I pretended to be lost in deep thought for a moment.

  Lillian, Marjorie’s friend who was sitting next to me squeezed my hand and whispered, ‘Yeah, I think your great-grandad would like that.’

  Of course I knew what I meant. The twat was telling me I had slowly lost my soul. I hoped there wouldn’t be any more ghosts showing up, trying to mess with my head, but the rest of the evening went more to plan with various dead relatives saying little obvious things to the ladies gathered around the table. Afterwards, everyone stood around chatting excitedly with a glass of something in one hand and a canapé in the other.

  The medium came over to me. ‘That was very strange, Mr MacAdam!’

  ‘You’re telling me. This is my first séance. How do you see the dead ones?’ I asked, as she led me away from the crowd.

  ‘Well, I normally just feel a presence and, if I’m lucky, hear a faint whisper. Some of the time I just have to guess and make stuff up, but tonight I actually had to stop listening to the voices.’ She looked at me. ‘There were just too many.’

  ‘Oh? And what did they say?’ I asked calmly, but I was distinctly worried that it had been a meeting of the Cameron’s victims’ support group.

  ‘There was a lot of swearing at this Cameron Blair,’ she said, looking at me with concern.

  ‘My great-grandad was a bit of a rogue,’ I told her light-heartedly.

  ‘It really seemed to be directed at you and most of them were very angry.’ She looked at me, obviously trying to gauge why I attracted that many spirits.

  ‘Well, as I said, my great-grandad and I look very alike,’ I said nonchalantly.

  ‘Did he know a Hélène?’ she asked suddenly.

  Fuck! She was there too! Not sure if I want to hear this. ‘What did the woman say?’ I said, working hard to sound casual.

  ‘She stood out because she wasn’t angry. She said she understands now and she’s sorry.’ The medium watched closely for my reaction.

  ‘I don’t know who this woman was to my great-grandad, but I’m sure he’s sorry too,’ I said, making sure my voice didn’t waver. I could see that she wasn’t quite buying the great-grandad story, so I quickly moved the conversation on.

  ‘You wouldn’t happen to have a Charley there as well, would you? Gladys over there knows his son and my great-grandad worked for him.’

  ‘I don’t know, there were a lot of voices there. Would you like a private session?’ she asked me and I could see she was desperate to probe.

  ‘Good heavens, no! As you say, most of these ghosts were angry. Best to let them rest,’ I said laughing and moved away to talk to some other guests. I would love to have had a private session; to talk to Hélène again would have been amazing – there was still so much I wanted to say to her – but it would almost certainly have revealed me as a vampire and I wasn’t willing to take that risk.

  Later, Marjorie came over, still a little tearful as Kenny Rogers, her departed Yorkshire terrier, had told her from beyond the grave that he loved his mummy. I’m sure the ghost of Kenny had been there, but his bark would certainly have been directed at me.

  ‘Cameron darling, what an evening! Gosh darn it, your grandaddy must have been quite something to have pissed that many spirits off!’

  ‘Well, luckily we are only alike in looks,’ I said with a cheeky grin.

  ‘I’d like to have met this Cameron Blair. I do like a bad boy...’ and she gave my arm a squeeze.

  ‘I’m sure young you and granddad would have had a whale of a time,’ I said laughing.