by Scott, D. D.
Hugo pulled up next to me in a cloud of blue-black exhaust. “Hop in, baby. Smokey told me where the Social Surgery Headquarters is located.”
I belted in, checking for falling car parts. Hugo said, “Let’s get out there and see who shows up.”
We went west on Southern Boulevard. Hugo put his hand on my knee. “Smokey’s a good guy, angelface, but there’s something about him…”
As we drove farther from town, the buildings thinned out and declined in quality. Next to a paint and body shop that appeared to be closing for the day, we came to a rundown flat-roofed concrete-block building. Nicked-up gray paint on the walls and grimy opaque-glass windows gave the place a certain je ne sais quoi if you’re into bunkers.
Hugo drove past it. “That’s the place, sweetheart. He made a sudden right into the adjacent overgrown vacant lot. He maneuvered in the shadow of some Australian pines until we had a view of the back door and rear parking. He shut off the engine. I shuddered at the thought of what might be in the bumper-high weeds, probably loaded with snakes and spiders. If I had to push the classic Yugo to get it started… I shuddered again.
The building appeared to be empty, if not abandoned. No cars in the lot, a forlorn feel to the place. We sat and watched. The shadows lengthened as the afternoon passed and the sun slid from the February sky. Borrrrinnng.
I cut my eyes at Hugo and discreetly studied his handsome profile. I had to find a way to overcome my little genetics problem. I didn’t want to have to worry about Hugo finding out about it. I didn’t want to need male blood when I had PMS, very inconvenient in addition to being very yucky. I wanted a normal life. I wanted to grow old with Hugo, not live to a hundred and fifty.
But Gregor, the patriarch who cast the curse, was the only one who could lift it. I’d saved the lives of two of his brothers, but that wasn’t quite enough. However, his Achilles heel was his sweet tooth. Gregor’s brother had hired us to solve QT Pye’s problems with the hope that Gregor would then lift my curse. Of course, I couldn’t tell Hugo or Smokey or anybody that wasn’t in that part of my world.
We had to solve QT’s problems so she could get on with her franchising and I could be rid of my LGP. Unfortunately, what I thought was going to be a relatively simple negotiation had turned into a murder with Vampigs, Hampires, and who knew what other complications.
Around four-thirty a military-styled Jeep similar to Kenny’s pulled around the building and parked near the back door. Two men got out. Hugo looked at them through binoculars. “Those guys look familiar.” He handed me the glasses.
With my LGP-enhanced vision I didn’t need the binoculars, of course I couldn’t tell Hugo that. I made a show of peering through them although I had already identified the men, not who they were, but what they were. Vampigs. About Hugo’s height but much heavier with big bellies, pinkish skin, and noses that resembled snouts, their repulsiveness was almost tangible, even at this distance.
I handed the glasses back to Hugo. One of the Vampigs unlocked the backdoor to the building then they both leaned against the Jeep like they were waiting. Five minutes later a big black Mercedes pulled off the street and went around the building, parking next to the Jeep. Two men dressed like Arabs in white burnooses, wraparound sunglasses, and scraggly beards got out and greeted the Vampigs.
Hugo slapped the binoculars to his eyes. “Those guys look like fugitive terrorist Ibin Etn Salaami, but I know he’s dead. I was there. Must be a couple of his associates.”
The Mercedes’ trunk popped open. The Vampigs removed two wooden crates marked Danger Explosives and carried them inside. One of the Vampigs returned. The Arabs got into the Mercedes and the passenger handed a canvas bank bag through the window to the Vampig who returned to the building. The Mercedes headed toward West Palm.
“Hmmm, the Ibin Etn Salaami look-alikes,” said Hugo, “provided explosives and money to those Social Surgery guys. I had the feeling that Kenny Bunkport and his group, or at least some of it, are anarchists. What would they be doing with foreign terrorists?”
“Maybe Kenny and crew don’t know about the terrorists, maybe the two guys in the building are the only link.” What I felt like saying was What’s up with the freaking Vampigs?
Fifteen minutes later the Vampigs got in their Jeep. Hugo’s car miraculously started on the first try. We followed them east into West Palm Beach to an industrial area between Southern and Belvedere, not far from I-95. Night had fallen with a thud. Traffic was sparse. Hugo stayed a block behind with his lights off.
The Jeep made a right. Hugo turned at the intersection and pulled off the road. One building on the street was brightly lit inside and out, accentuating its pink walls and sign identifying it as Mrs. Pye’s Pie Factory. The Jeep parked next to two vans identical to the one QT had driven to Ginger’s house. The Vampigs walked toward the side of the building. A door marked Office swung open and QT Pye herself let them in.
Hugo lowered the binoculars. “Our client didn’t bother to call when she got out.”
Two cars pulled into the lot. The drivers wore tall white baker’s hats and went in the front door. I said “QT must be planning to work all night to fill her Valentine’s Day orders.”
“How’d she get sprung, angel? She shouldn’t have had a bond hearing till morning.” He opened his cellphone and put it on speaker. “Maybe Smokey knows.”
Hugo briefed Smokey about what we saw at the Social Surgery Headquarters and our surveillance.
Smokey said, “I don’t know who the guys in the burnooses are, but the others have to be two of the Hogwrath brothers. They’re pure evil. Three of them are colonels in Bunkport’s organization and they’re the driving force behind it. Bunkport’s just a horny goofball who thinks the government is out to get him. Considering some of his plastic surgery, he needs to protect himself from his clients, not the government.”
“How did QT Pye get out of jail?” Hugo asked.
“The judge held a special bond hearing in the interest of the public good so she could make her heart-shaped pies for Valentine’s Day. He set the bond at zero and let her out. He’s a big fan, particularly of her key lime pie with black raspberry and dark–”
“I heard about it.” Hugo shook his head. “So essentially she was able to bond out for pies.”
“The Hogwraths and those explosives are a lot more important than her. You’ve given me enough to get a search warrant and call out the terrorism task force to serve it tonight.”
“Victoria and I still have an eyeball on the Hogwraths. Matter of fact, I see them walking toward their Jeep now. Call you later.” He disconnected and rubbed his chin. “I still don’t get it, cupcake. QT knows the Hogwraths from Social Surgery but why would she call them right after she gets out of jail?”
Hugo backed through the intersection and hid the car beside a plumbing supply shop that was closed for the night. The Jeep passed us then returned to Southern Boulevard and headed west. Hugo let a few cars get go by before pulling onto Southern.
“We’ll keep it loose. They might be going back to Headquarters.” He patted the MAC-10 hidden under his suit coat. “If they come out with the explosives before Smokey and the task force gets there, I might have to stop them.”
My heart pounded. I couldn’t let that happen. Hugo was no match for Vampigs. He could shoot them all day long with no effect. I was no match for Vampigs either but at least I had a chance. I knew about their usual vampire vulnerability of a wooden stake through the heart. But I didn’t have any of my wooden-stake weapons with me. What to do? What to do?
About halfway there, they stopped for gas and I had an idea. “Let’s keep going. Drop me off at the body shop next door to Headquarters and you go back to the vacant lot on the other side. We’ll eyeball them from both sides.”
“Good idea, sweetheart. Then if the fireworks start, you’ll be safely out of the way.”
That was my Hugo, always looking out for me. I stayed in front of the body shop until he was out of sight. I
took note of a bush between the buildings that would make a good hiding place. I ran to the rear of the building. The ground by the backdoor was littered with yucky cigarette butts, like inhaling paint and solvents won’t kill you fast enough. No sign of cameras or alarms and only a simple knob lock. Invitation to a burglary.
I twisted the knob and pulled hard. The door popped open. I was going to miss my extra strength when I no longer had my LGP. And my night vision too. The interior was as clear as if the lights were on. I stepped inside and sensed movement to my left.
A huge Rottweiler ran at me silently, about to leap for my throat. I bared my fangs, narrowed my eyes, and hissed. He stopped dead and crawled to my feet, whimpering. I patted his head. He stopped whimpering and rolled over. I didn’t have time for belly rubs.
Clean dark grey coveralls hung on the wall and plastic booties for use in the paint booth were in a box on the floor. I stripped off my yellow dress and high heels. The smallest coveralls were too big but fit well enough with the sleeves and cuffs rolled up. I selected the largest of three compressors and a wand-like thingy for pressure cleaning or sandblasting or who knew what.
I fumbled with the wand until I got it attached to a hose and the hose to the compressor. I pressed the switch on the wand and instantly got a loud noise and a powerful blast of air that dented my wastebasket target and blew it across the room. I shut it off and held my breath hoping Hugo wouldn’t call wondering what the noise was. I found a dozen reasonably sharp pencils in a desk drawer in the office. It wasn’t great but it was a chance.
The compressor was ridiculously heavy and awkward. I dragged it out the backdoor to the bush. The hose was about twenty-feet long, just enough to reach the barred window on the end of the Headquarters building facing me. The driveway to the rear parking lot ran between the bush and the window. I hid beneath the bush. Vampig vision was probably better than mine. Thirty seconds later the Jeep turned into the driveway. Way too close for comfort.
The Hogwrath brothers went in the backdoor and closed it. I was going to miss my enhanced hearing also. Time to rock and roll. I flipped on the compressor, hoping the traffic noise on Southern would mask the sound. With the wand in my hand and uncoiling the hose, I ran across the driveway, rammed the wand between the bars, and smashed the window.
The room was empty and the door was closed. I jammed three pencils into the end of the wand. The door blew open. The Vampigs came through, one behind the other. I blasted the front one with my volley of three. One of the pencils hit near the heart, the other two weren’t close. He staggered. The second Vampig pushed him out of the way and charged as I was jamming three more pencils into the wand. I knew he was strong enough to come straight through the bars and tear my head off. I leveled the wand and fired when he was coming through the window, one pencil went into his heart dead-center.
He fell backwards. Then I remembered something from my last encounter with Vampigs. They implode violently. If the implosion triggered the two cases of explosives inside, Hugo and I and probably several vehicles on Southern would be history. I ducked below the window. A double implosion rocked the building and blew out the windows and part of the roof but didn’t set off the explosives.
With shaky legs, I ran to the bush and dragged all the equipment into the body shop. My phone rang. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”
“What was that explosion?” I asked, shedding the coveralls and booties.
“Must have been an accident. Smokey and the task force will be here in a minute. Stay put until they arrive and everything is safe.”
I got dressed, checked to see everything was in its proper place, and gave the Rotty a quick belly rub. The body shop owner now had a hundred-and-thirty-pound lapdog instead of a guard dog. I thought about leaving a note suggesting an alarm system but decided the owner would figure it out. I worked on the doorknob, finally getting it to latch and lock again and breaking a darn fingernail while I did it.
A busted-up pallet sat next to their dumpster. I pulled on a foot-long piece of slat that was broken at an angle until it came free. I put the makeshift wooden stake in my purse then walked around to the front.
Tons of cops dressed in black, wearing helmets and body armor and carrying machine guns crowded the Headquarters property. A bomb squad van, a SWAT van, some kind of tank-looking vehicle, and a caravan of black SUVs were parked along the edge of the road. I felt a twinge of guilt that I’d spoiled their action with a half-dozen pencils.
Hugo called again. “I’m stuck here for the time being, angelface. Smokey wants to interview QT about the Hogwraths’ visit tonight. I told him you might be able to help because you established a rapport with her at the jail. He’ll pick you up in a few.”
I didn’t know what rapport Hugo meant but I was happy to help. QT was my ticket to having the Curse of the Curse lifted. I wanted to make sure nothing happened to her. There was a third Hogwrath brother out there.
An unmarked black Crown Vic broke out of the clot of vehicles next door and pulled up next to me. Detective Smokey Jambon was behind the wheel. I hopped in and we roared east on Southern. He screeched to a stop in the pie factory parking lot. One of the delivery vans was gone. Smokey’s phone rang. He said uh-huh a few times then, “Be right there,” and drove out of the lot.
“That was my cousin Ham Smithfield. You met him this morning. He just patrolled Murray Road and saw QT’s delivery van parked on the street in front of Kenny Bunkport’s house. She and Hogwrath were in the van and appeared to be arguing.”
Kenny’s house wasn’t far and Smokey didn’t spare the horses, but when we arrived, Hogwrath was in the van alone. I jumped out of the car before it came to a full stop. I didn’t want Smokey to see the confrontation. I held my purse in front of me with one hand, the other in my purse gripping the stake.
Hogwrath’s fangs extended as he jumped out of the van. “You think you’re fast enough and strong enough to use whatever’s in your purse before I kill you and your cop friend? You’re as stupid as that bimbo pie-maker who tried to hire us tonight to blow up all the bakeries in town except hers. And you’re going to die first for killing my brothers. Don’t look so surprised. We were Vampig triplets. We knew each other’s thoughts.”
That was a tidbit for Granny to enter into the BOT website if I ever got the chance to tell her. And if I did survive, Smokey would know what happened, which meant Hugo would find out about my LGP. I was in a pickle.
My fangs popped out. I yanked the stake from my purse but before I could lunge, Hogwrath was on me and ripped it from my hand. He stood in the street laughing. Smokey, gun drawn, came up beside me. Hogwrath laughed harder. “Bullets don’t faze me.”
“Take another look, Hogwrath,” Smokey hissed. I glanced at his hand. He held a weapon similar to a .45 but with a mini-stake mounted to it. It made a pfft compressed-air sound and shot the mini-stake into the Vampig’s heart.
Hogwrath staggered backwards into the van and imploded, a very annoying feature of Vampigs. The force of the implosion knocked the van’s doors open. Dozens of heart-shaped pies flew into the street and broke in half in a jagged line from the point on the bottom to the valley at the top, obviously a structural weakness.
I hugged Smokey. I should have figured it out earlier. Hampires have to do good work and the work has to have something to do with pigs. Law enforcement fits the bill perfectly. He said, “We might never know what terrible act the Hogwraths were going to carry out. But we have to find the terrorists and stop them from trying again.”
A shot rang out. This neighborhood was bad about that. Smokey and I raced up the walk to Kenny’s house. The door was open. QT had a Glock in her hand, as usual. Kenny had a bullet hole in his forehead, not so usual. She turned the gun toward us. I didn’t know if Hampires were immune to bullets, but I wasn’t.
She had a crazed look in her eyes. “Yes, I killed him. Ginger too. She recommended him for lip enhancement, only because, unknown to me, she was sleeping with him. She didn’t know
anything about his skills. Look at this idiotic permanent smile. When I tried to get Ginger to settle our financial dispute this morning, she laughed at me. She said she was more believable to a jury than someone with a mouth like mine.” The gun wavered in her hand, raising a flock of butterflies in my stomach.
“Tonight, Hogwrath told me Kenny said he could fix my mouth whenever he wanted, but he wanted me to do him with it first because it really turned him on. I told Kenny about that and he said it was a lie. He’d accidentally used liquid rubber with the Botox and we had to wait a few years for it to break down. Then he laughed at me so I shot him and now I’m going to shoot you and I’ll become queen of the pie world.”
Her plan was flawed. Officer Ham Smithfield slipped up on her from the rear, grabbed the gun, and stuck his fangs in the side of her neck. Smokey leaped to her other side and did the same. Granny said Hampire victims had to be evil-doers. It’s always nice to see family members sharing.
They drained her in seconds. A minute later her carcass vaporized, leaving only her clothes and her lips. Ham stuffed them in a plastic trash bag and went out the backdoor.
Smokey made a zipper-closing hand movement over his mouth. “Our secret.” We did the interlocking pinkie thing then walked to his car.
Hugo was at the station when we arrived. I gave him a sanitized version of what happened, finishing with, “So, it looks like QT killed Ginger, Hogwrath killed Kenny, and QT and Hogwrath are in the wind together.”
“There weren’t any signs of the other Hogwraths at Headquarters. So far no ideas of what blew up, but the crates of explosives were recovered.”
Fatigue had set in. My Hugo had to help me walk to his classic Yugo. When we got home, we showered together which revived us… too much. Hugo said, “It’s almost midnight, sweetheart. Let’s have a glass of champagne and wait for Valentine’s Day to get here so we can kick it off the best way. And I have a surprise.”
We put on our robes and went in the kitchen. He took a bottle and a box from the refrigerator. He opened the bottle and poured the champagne. “Open the box, angel. I made a stop on the way in and dropped it off here before I went to the station.”