Murder in Vein

by Sue Ann Jaffarian

  "As for food," Pauline said, moving to the refrigerator, "you can cook and eat anything you find, except for stuff that looks like blood."

  Madison shivered and Pauline noticed. She chuckled softly as she opened the refrigerator door. "Most of these plastic containers have blood in them. There are similar containers in the freezer, and all are clearly marked with what type of blood."

  This time, Madison turned a pale shade of green, and again Pauline noticed her discomfort. "Don't worry, in time you'll get used to it, and none of it's human blood. The Dedhams don't store human blood in the house." She paused before adding, "Doesn't mean they don't enjoy it, but it would be tougher to explain to the authorities if for any reason someone stumbled upon it here. They go out for that-sort of like you and I would go out for a nice slice of prime rib and fried shrimp."

  Madison rested her arms on the table and lowered her head onto them. "Oh, god," she moaned as the reality of the situation made itself crystal clear. There really were vampires, and she'd managed to happen upon them.

  Pauline ignored Madison's distress. "Mrs. D loves to bake. Seeing how you're a bag of bones, she'll probably try to put some meat on you."

  That caught Madison's attention. Remembering the cookies, she asked, without lifting her head from the table, "She loves to bake? Can they eat any of it?"

  "Not a lick, but both of them love the smell of fresh baked goods in the house, especially Mrs. D. I think it reminds her of when she was ... well ... it reminds her of another time." Pauline paused, then added, "Makes her feel more normal, I think. She hasn't been a vampire very long, only about fifteen years. Became one when she married Mr. D."

  Curious, Madison raised her head and pushed aside the thought of the Dedhams' liquid meals sharing space in the fridge alongside the cereal milk. She was about to ask Pauline more about the Dedhams, but the housekeeper moved back to the kitchen counter where a Crock-Pot was set up. There she continued with her instructions. "This here is a pot roast for your dinner tonight. There's a nice chunk of beef in there with carrots and potatoes. You should let it cook until at least three o'clock; anytime after that you can eat it. There'll be plenty for leftovers, too. Storage containers for the leftovers are in the cabinet under the microwave."

  "You're not staying today?" Madison asked with slight alarm. "I thought you were here all day."

  "Usually, I'm here five days a week from about eight in the morning until two or three in the afternoon, but today my greatniece is in a play at school. But don't worry, just relax and get used to the place. The Dedhams get up around five, a little later in the summer months when the days are longer. Mrs. D told me she has a surprise for you, so be ready to go out around six or so. Nothing fancy, just girl stuff."

  Madison felt like a ship buffeted by a capricious storm. One minute she'd fallen into a heart-warming movie of the week, the next she was in a cult horror picture.

  "We've only had one other living houseguest before, and that was Mike," Pauline told Madison with a skeptical shake of her head. "So this should be interesting, to say the least."

  "Do you mean Detective Notchey?"

  "Yes. He stayed here once, in the same room you're in now. It was while Mrs. D nursed him back from a shooting injury." Pauline was about to say more about the detective when she suddenly remembered something. "Oh, I forgot," she said, pulling a message out of the pocket of her apron. "Mike called. He wants you to call him as soon as you can. I believe he wants to come by today and ask you more questions."

  Madison picked up her keys and rose from the table. She went to Pauline and took the note, which was a phone number scrawled on the back of a grocery receipt.

  "He left his cell number," Pauline explained, "in case you misplaced his business card."

  Looking out the window, Madison could see the pool, hot tub, and large, lovely patio. The property was edged with thick natural trees and shrubs, like it had been carved out of the dense vegetation with a soup spoon. She'd hiked in Topanga Canyon several times. It was located in the Santa Monica Mountains, not far from the Pacific Ocean and Malibu. Bobby Piper had taken her to a wooded area, and she wondered if it had been here, close to the Dedhams' house.

  "I saw Doug kill the man who kidnapped me," she said to Pauline without turning around.

  Pauline moved closer to Madison but didn't touch her. "You forget about that now, Madison," she instructed. "Sometimes the Dedhams kill, but they never do it wantonly like some vampires or like those you've seen on TV. If they have to end a life, it's for a good reason and usually with considerable thought and regret" When Madison didn't respond, she continued. "Would you rather they'd left you to die? Because as I understand it, it was either that scum or you."

  Madison looked down at the keys in her hand. Pauline noticed and could read her thoughts of flight as if they were stamped in ink on the girl's scraped forehead. She placed a dark, rough hand on Madison's shoulder. "The Dedhams are good people, Madison."

  "But they're not people, are they?" Madison turned to look into the eyes of the housekeeper. "Not really."

  "At one time they were alive." Pauline moved the hand to touch her own chest. "I know in my heart they were good people then and try to be good people now, even when the dark side of their circumstance leads them in a different direction."

  The two women stood face to face in silence for a moment before Pauline spoke again. When she did, her tone was respectful and quiet. "My family has served Douglas Dedham for over two hundred years."

  Madison's eyes widened, silently urging Pauline to continue. "It started when Mr. D saved my ancestor, Micah Johnson, from the hands of an evil and sadistic slave trader. Mr. D took him in, trained him as his personal valet, and educated him. In those days, it was dangerous to educate slaves. Mr. D did it himself in secret. From that point on, someone in my family has been employed by Mr. D to see to his needs." She paused for emphasis. "And keep his secret."

  Pauline picked up a cloth and started wiping down the spotless counter as she talked. "Before me, it was my Aunt Izzy. After me, either my cousin Sara or my niece Keisha will work here in my place. Both help around here now. Even my husband does things for the Dedhams." She looked up at Madison. "Through the years, my family has been completely loyal to Douglas Dedham, and now to Dodie, and we've been the better for it."

  SEVEN

  adison studied the photographs spread across the Dedhams' kitchen table. "Sorry," she said without looking up. "I've got nothing."

  Mike Notchey paced the tile floor. Today he was dressed in a dark rumpled suit. As soon as he'd come into the house, he'd removed his jacket and loosened his tie. To Madison, he looked younger than he had the night before. He still sported the haggard look, but today he was clean shaven. Madison downgraded her estimate of his age to mid-thirties.

  The detective stopped pacing and leaned against the counter, where just a few hours earlier Pauline had stood giving Madison the skinny on the Dedham house. "You're sure?" he asked.

  Madison shrugged. "One of them might have come into the diner at some time. Who knows, all of them could have-Auntie Em's is very popular, especially during the lunch rush. It picks up a lot of business from Sony and some of the other studios during the day."

  "The day? I thought you worked the night shift?" He narrowed his eyes at her.

  "Except for the times I had class," she explained. "I worked whatever hours they threw at me."

  A spark of interest ignited in Notchey's eyes. "Did you have any normal hours? You know, hours that might be considered a regular schedule?"

  Madison gave it some thought before answering. "Up until Labor Day, I worked mostly the day shift." Madison repositioned herself in her chair and crossed her legs. "You see, the tips were always better during the week at lunch. On the weekends, it's the yuppie Sunday brunch crowd that tipped best. Evenings were slow, with mostly older, less trendy customers who didn't tip well. Saturday nights were the worst, especially later in the evening as people came out of the clu
bs drunk and in search of food. Kyle likes to spread the schedule evenly so that his waitstaff all have a shot at decent tips. He's good that way, but he always put his best staff down for lunch, to serve the important studio crowd."

  "And you were once one of his best? Did you fall from grace?"

  "I am his best," Madison said with assurance. "And up until this fall, I always worked the lunch shift four days a week and Sunday brunch. Until then, I was taking night classes at the community college, but there was a class I wanted this semester that was only offered Tuesdays and Thursdays during the day. Tuesdays I already had off. When I asked if I could switch my Thursday with the guy who worked Saturday breakfast, Kyle told me that the woman who worked Friday and Saturday nights was leaving and I could have her Saturday night shift."

  "So you worked Monday, Wednesday, and Friday during the day, and Saturday night, and then came back again early on Sunday for brunch? That's a pretty grueling schedule on the weekend."

  Madison shook her head. "Because of Saturday evening, he switched me with someone else on Sunday. I lost the brunch hours and worked Sunday late afternoon through dinner. We closed earlier on Sundays."

  Notchey hung his head in confusion and frustration. "Okay, let me get this straight. It wasn't until after Labor Day when you started working Saturday evenings?"

  "That's right. I lost some good tips, but I got to take the class I wanted." Madison's mouth took a nose dive. "Seems now it was for nothing. Might lose the job and the class-guess it will depend on how much time I spend hanging out here."

  "Did you call your boss? Maybe you won't lose your job."

  "I called him this morning." Madison's shoulders sagged. "He said he could give me the week, but after that he'd have to find a replacement. He said he'd call Evie to see if she would work a few shifts just until I get back." She looked up at Notchey. "Evie's the waitress who used to work just Friday and Saturday nights."

  Mike didn't comment but continued with his line of questioning. "It's early October, so you'd only worked a couple of Saturday nights before you were grabbed by Piper."

  Madison crossed her arms and considered the timing. "So what does that mean?"

  "It could mean Piper wasn't stalking you for very long, or it could mean nothing." Notchey moved over to the table and placed both of his hands flat on it while he faced Madison. "Think hard, Madison. Do you recall Bobby Piper being in the restaurant any specific day or time? And do you recall seeing him before you switched to Saturday and Sunday evenings?"

  Avoiding the scrape on her forehead, Madison combed a hand through her long hair while she dug deep into her recent memory. "Come to think of it, I don't recall seeing him except for those nights. He was kind of scruffy-and not in a hip way. He would have stood out in the film crowd. And we knew our weekday regulars pretty well-who they were and what they ate. Kissing Hollywood asses meant bigger tips."

  As soon as she said the words, Madison looked around for Pauline, then relaxed when she remembered that the formidable housekeeper had left two hours earlier.

  Notchey pressed, "And you're sure he wasn't part of that crowd?"

  "Pretty positive. And he certainly wasn't part of the usual Sunday brunch clientele." She looked down at the photos on the table. There were about a dozen candid photos of people of various ages. Two were of women. All the people in the pictures wore looks of intensity and brooding like they were mad at the world, and they probably were. Several were dressed in the goth style.

  "Who are these people?" she asked.

  Mike picked up his jacket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He clutched it in his hands and started to answer, then motioned for her to follow him out the back door.

  Once they were on the patio, Mike pulled a lighter from his pants pocket and lit up. Leaning against a support post, he took a deep drag of the cigarette and looked out at the trees beyond the property line. Madison sat on a chair in the sun, soaking in the warmth from the rays, and waited.

  "I don't know how much Pauline Speakes told you about the Dedhams," he began, "or about the local vampire community."

  After taking another deep drag, he stubbed out the cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. Making sure it was out, he put it back into the pack and put the pack into his pocket. He glanced up and saw Madison watching him with interest.

  "I used to be a two-pack-a-day guy," he explained. "Now I'm down to ten puffs a day. Guess that's progress. Feels like shit, though" He leaned against the post. "Sorry I didn't offer you one, but the Dedhams hate cigarette smoke. So if you do smoke, might as well get used to not having it while you're here. Although Doug does enjoy a good cigar once in a while, but only outside."

  "No problem," she told him. "Never been a smoker. Don't drink either."

  "No booze, no butts. Probably don't do drugs."

  She shook her head. "Seen the damage those things can do to people." Madison recalled some bad memories, then just as quickly shook them off. "And to the people around them. Especially booze and drugs."

  Mike eyed her. "Guess your only vice is rolling drunks."

  Madison puffed with indignation. "That tune's getting old, Notchey. I told you that was another time, another place." She hugged her arms protectively around herself.

  "You cold?" Mike asked. "You want to go back inside?"

  She shook her head. "It's a little cool, but I'm okay. I like it out here. Topanga, I mean. Sometimes I come out here to hike. Never thought for a minute I might die here." She let loose a low, tinny laugh. "Certainly never thought vampires lived here-or anywhere else, for that matter. Not for real."

  She went quiet, and Mike gave her some space. Shortly, she turned to him. "Pauline didn't say anything about vampires in general. She mostly gave me a list of do's and don'ts about living here. Told me some of the things the Dedhams like to do-about how nice they are. She seems very loyal to them. If they weren't vampires, they'd be too perfect."

  "Wouldn't surprise me," Mike said, still watching Madison, "if Pauline was willing to take a bullet for them."

  "Would that be a silver bullet?"

  A small smile crossed the detective's face. He turned away as if embarrassed by it.

  "And how about you?" Madison asked. "Would you take a bullet for them? Or have you already?"

  Mike Notchey jerked his head in Madison's direction but didn't say anything.

  "Pauline told me that Dodie nursed you back to health after you'd been shot."

  He nodded and stared into her eyes as he spoke, his emotions raw and just below the surface. "Happened a couple of years ago. But the bullet was meant for me, not them. And it wasn't silver, it was a cop killer."

  "I'm sorry." Madison looked away, giving them each another gap of privacy before speaking again. "Pauline didn't tell me anything about any vampire community. But the Dedhams told me last night that if I talked to anyone about them or what I learned about other vampires, I'd be killed."

  When Mike didn't respond, she turned to him, brown eyes blazing with both fear and anger. "That true?"

  "Yes," he answered, looking straight back at her, leaving no doubt as to the accuracy of his response.

  Madison stood up and stalked over to Notchey. She faced him, their bodies just inches apart. "You said I'd be safe here" Her voice was low but accusing. "You said they wouldn't hurt me." Jaw set, mouth tight, she glared at him, the heat from her eyes demanding an explanation. Her black eye looked particularly menacing.

  "They won't, but beyond the two of them it's complicated. Just keep your mouth shut and you'll be fine," he told her. "And when you do meet other vampires, stay close to Doug and Dodie. They're well respected."

  Madison wasn't buying it. "I don't need to know about any more vampires. I'll just stay here until I can go home."

  "That's not possible either," Mike told her. "With what's going on, there's no way for you to avoid meeting more of them."

  "But-," Madison began, pointing her left index finger close to his face.

  Mike int
errupted her by grabbing her hand and roughly turning it over, palm up.

  "Ow," Madison let out in surprise. She tried to pull her hand away, but Mike held onto it with an iron grip. He stared at her palm. With his other hand, he traced her lifeline-the line that curved across her palm, separating the thumb from the rest of the hand like a peninsula. He twisted her hand back and forth to get a better look in the sunlight. Finally, he let go.

  Madison pulled her freed hand close to her chest and rubbed it. Taking a couple steps back from Mike, she grew quiet. "That's really weird."

  "What? Taking your hand?" He shrugged. "Thought I saw something, a cut or bruise. Sorry." He looked down at the ground. "We should go inside." He started for the back door.

  "No, what's weird is that I had a dream last night about that. Someone was checking out my left palm, tracing it like you did, but they were much nicer about it."

  Mike Notchey stopped in his tracks and turned back to her. "Might have been Dodie," he suggested while keeping an eagle eye on Madison's bruised face. "She might have been making sure you were all right."

  She shook her head. "No. It was a man. A black man, I think, or someone very dark." Madison's voice lost its hard edge.

  Mike held his breath.

  "He stroked my palm and was very gentle," Madison continued. "It was actually quite awesome." Her voice held a tone of wonder, like a small child on Christmas morning. "Yet terrifying at the same time." She shivered, as if shaking off a spell. "Isn't that weird?"

  "Just an odd dream," Mike told her. "Not surprising, with what you've been through." He jerked his head toward the door. "Let's take another look at those photos."

  There was a deeper urgency in his voice that Madison, still on the edge of her dream, didn't notice. She shook herself again to bring her thoughts to the present and faced Notchey with the will of a stubborn child.

  "I'm tired of looking at those old photos," she told him. "I told you everything I know. I want to go home as soon as possible. I may not have a posh life, but it's mine. Those people mean nothing to me."