I threw up until I was empty and the world stopped spinning. I wiped my mouth on my sleeve and stood up using a crooked headstone for support.
No one said a word as I walked back to them. The sheet was covering the body. The body. Had to think of it that way. Couldn’t dwell on the fact that it had been a small child. Couldn’t. I’d go mad.
“Well?” Dolph asked.
“He hasn’t been dead long. Dammit to hell, Dolph, it was late morning, maybe just before dawn. He was alive, alive when that thing took him!” I stared up at him and felt the hot beginnings of tears. I would not cry. I had already disgraced myself enough for one day. I took a deep careful breath and let it out. I would not cry.
“I gave you twenty-four hours to talk to this Dominga Salvador. Did you find out anything?”
“She says she knows nothing of it. I believe her.”
“Why?”
“Because if she wanted to kill people she wouldn’t have to do anything this dramatic.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“She could wish them to death,” I said.
He widened his eyes. “You believe that?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Yes. Hell, I don’t know. She scares me.”
He raised one thick eyebrow. “I’ll remember that.”
“I have another name to add to your list though,” I said.
“Who?”
“John Burke. He’s up from New Orleans for his brother’s funeral.”
He wrote the name in his little notebook. “If he’s just visiting, would he have time?”
“I can’t think of a motive, but he could do it if he wanted to. Check him out with the New Orleans police. I think he’s under suspicion down there for murder.”
“What’s he doing traveling out of state?”
“I don’t think they have any proof,” I said. “Dominga Salvador said she’d help me. She’s promised to ask around and tell me anything she turns up.”
“I’ve been asking around since you gave me her name. She doesn’t help anyone outside her own people. How did you get her to cooperate?”
I shrugged. “My winning personality.”
He shook his head.
“It wasn’t illegal, Dolph. Beyond that I don’t want to talk about it.”
He let it go. Smart man. “Tell me as soon as you hear anything, Anita. We’ve got to stop this thing before it kills again.”
“Agreed.” I turned and looked out over the rolling grass. “Is this the cemetery near where you found the first three victims?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe part of the answer’s here then,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“Most vampires have to return to their coffins before dawn. Ghouls stay in underground tunnels, like giant moles. If it was either of those I’d say the creature was out here somewhere waiting for nightfall.”
“But,” he said.
“But if it’s a zombie it isn’t harmed by sunlight and it doesn’t need to rest in a coffin. It could be anywhere, but I think it originally came from this cemetery. If they used voodoo there will be signs of the ritual.”
“Like what?”
“A chalk verve, drawn symbols around the grave, dried blood, maybe a fire.” I stared off at the rustling grass. “Though I wouldn’t want to start an open fire in this place.”
“If it wasn’t voodoo?” he asked.
“Then it was an animator. Again you look for dried blood, maybe a dead animal. There won’t be as many signs and it’s easier to clean up.”
“Are you sure it’s some kind of a zombie?” he asked.
“I don’t know what else it could be. I think we should act like that’s what it is. It gives us someplace to look, and something to look for.”
“If it’s not a zombie we don’t have a clue,” he said.
“Exactly.”
He smiled, but it wasn’t pleasant. “I hope you’re right, Anita.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“If it did come from here, can you find what grave it came from?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he said.
“Maybe. Raising the dead isn’t a science, Dolph. Sometimes I can feel the dead under the ground. Restlessness. How old without looking at the tombstone. Sometimes I can’t.” I shrugged.
“We’ll give you any help you need.”
“I have to wait until full dark. My...powers are better after dark.”
“That’s hours away. Can you do anything now?”
I thought about that for a moment. “No. I’m sorry but no.”
“Okay, you’ll come back tonight then?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“What time? I’ll send some men out.”
“I don’t know what time. And I don’t know how long it will take. I could be wandering out here for hours and find nothing.”
“Or?”
“Or I could find the beastie itself.”
“You’ll need backup for that, just in case.”
I nodded. “Agreed, but guns, even silver bullets, won’t hurt it.”
“What will?”
“Flamethrowers, napalm like the exterminators use on ghoul tunnels,” I said.
“Those aren’t standard issue.”
“Have an exterminator team standing by,” I said.
“Good idea.” He made a note.
“I need a favor,” I said.
He looked up. “What?”
“Peter Burke was murdered, shot to death. His brother asked me to find out what progress the police are making.”
“You know we can’t give out information like that.”
“I know, but if you can get the facts I can feed just enough to John Burke to keep in touch with him.”
“You seem to be getting along well with all our suspects,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“I’ll find out what I can from homicide. Do you know what jurisdiction he was found in?”
I shook my head. “I could find out. It would give me an excuse to talk to Burke again.”
“You say he’s suspected of murder in New Orleans.”
“Mm-huh,” I said.
“And he may have done this.” He motioned at the sheet.
“Yep.”
“You watch your back, Anita.”
“I always do,” I said.
“You call me as early tonight as you can. I don’t want all my people sitting around twiddling their thumbs on overtime.”
“As soon as I can. I’ve got to cancel three clients just to make it.” Bert was not going to be pleased. The day was looking up.
“Why didn’t it eat more of the boy?” Dolph asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He nodded. “Okay, I’ll see you tonight then.”
“Say hello to Lucille for me. How’s she coming with her master’s degree?”
“Almost done. She’ll have it before our youngest gets his engineering degree.”
“Great.”
The sheet flapped in the hot wind. A trickle of sweat trailed down my forehead. I was out of small talk. “See you later,” I said, and started down the hill. I stopped and turned back. “Dolph?”
“Yes?” he said.
“I’ve never heard of a zombie exactly like this one. Maybe it does rise from its grave more like a vampire. If you kept that exterminator team and backup hanging around until after dark, you might catch it rising from the grave and be able to bag it.”
“Is that likely?”
“No, but it’s possible,” I said.
“I don’t know how I’ll explain the overtime, but I’ll do it.”
“I’ll be here as soon as I can.”
“What else could be more important than this?” he asked.
I smiled. “Nothing you’d like to hear about.”
“Try me,” he said.
I shook my head.
He nodded. “Tonight, early as you can.”
“Early
as I can,” I said.
Detective Perry escorted me back. Maybe politeness, maybe he just wanted to get away from the corpus delicti. I didn’t blame him. “How’s your wife, Detective?”
“We’re expecting our first baby in a month.”
I smiled up at him. “I didn’t know. Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” His face clouded over, a frown puckering between his dark eyes. “Do you think we can find this creature before it kills again?”
“I hope so,” I said.
“What are our chances?”
Did he want reassurance or the truth? Truth. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” he said.
“So was I, Detective. So was I.”
Chapter 11
What was more important than bagging the critter that had eviscerated an entire family? Nothing, absolutely nothing. But it was a while until full dark, and I had other problems. Would Tommy go back to Gaynor and tell him what I said? Yes. Would Gaynor let it go? Probably not. I needed information. I needed to know how far he would go. A reporter, I needed a reporter. Irving Griswold to the rescue.
Irving had one of those pastel cubicles that passes for an office. No roof, no door, but you got walls. Irving is five-three. I’d like him for that reason if nothing else. You don’t meet many men exactly my height. Frizzy brown hair framed his bald spot like petals on a flower. He wore a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, tie at half-mast. His face was round, pink-cheeked. He looked like a bald cherub. He did not look like a werewolf, but he was one. Even lycanthropy can’t cure baldness.
No one on the St. Louis Post-Dispatch knew Irving was a shapeshifter. It is a disease, and it’s illegal to discriminate against lycanthropes, just like people with AIDS, but people do it anyway. Maybe the paper’s management would have been broad-minded, liberal, but I was with Irving. Caution was better.
Irving sat in his desk chair. I leaned in the doorway of his cubicle. “How’s tricks?” Irving said.
“Do you really think you’re funny, or is this just an annoying habit?” I asked.
He grinned. “I’m hilarious. Ask my girlfriend.”
“I’ll bet,” I said.
“What’s up, Blake? And please tell me whatever it is is on the record, not off.”
“How would you like to do an article on the new zombie legislation that’s being cooked up?”
“Maybe,” he said. His eyes narrowed, suspicion gleamed forth. “What do you want in return?”
“This part is off the record, Irving, for now.”
“It figures.” He frowned at me. “Go on.”
“I need all the information you have on Harold Gaynor.”
“Name doesn’t ring any bells,” he said. “Should it?” His eyes had gone from cheerful to steady. His concentration was nearly perfect when he smelled a story.
“Not necessarily,” I said. Cautious. “Can you get the information for me?”
“In exchange for the zombie story?”
“I’ll take you to all the businesses that use zombies. You can bring a photographer and snap pictures of corpses.”
His eyes lit up. “A series of articles with lots of semi-gruesome pictures. You center stage in a suit. Beauty and the Beast. My editor would probably go for it.”
“I thought he might, but I don’t know about the center stage stuff.”
“Hey, your boss will love it. Publicity means more business.”
“And sells more papers,” I said.
“Sure,” Irving said. He looked at me for maybe a minute. The room was almost silent. Most had gone home. Irving’s little pool of light was one of just a few. He’d been waiting on me. So much for the press never sleeps. The quiet breath of the air conditioner filled the early evening stillness.
“I’ll see if Harold Gaynor’s in the computer,” Irving said at last.
I smiled at him. “Remembered the name after me mentioning it just once, pretty good.”
“I am, after all, a trained reporter,” he said. He swiveled his chair back to his computer keyboard with exaggerated movements. He pulled imaginary gloves on and adjusted the long tails of a tux.
“Oh, get on with it.” I smiled a little wider.
“Do not rush the maestro.” He typed a few words and the screen came to life. “He’s on file,” Irving said. “A big file. It’d take forever to print it all up.” He swiveled the chair back to look at me. It was a bad sign.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “I’ll get the file together, complete with pictures if we have any. I’ll deliver it to your sweet hands.”
“What’s the catch?”
He put his fingers to his chest. “Moi, no catch. The goodness of my heart.”
“All right, bring it by my apartment.”
“Why don’t we meet at Dead Dave’s, instead?” he said.
“Dead Dave’s is down in the vampire district. What are you doing hanging around out there?”
His sweet cherubic face was watching me very steadily. “Rumor has it that there’s a new Master Vampire of the City. I want the story.”
I just shook my head. “So you’re hanging around Dead Dave’s to get information?”
“Exactly.”
“The vamps won’t talk to you. You look human.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” he said. “The vamps do talk to you, Anita. Do you know who the new Master is? Can I meet him, or her? Can I do an interview?”
“Jesus, Irving, don’t you have enough troubles without messing with the king vampire?”
“It’s a him then,” he said.
“It’s a figure of speech,” I said.
“You know something. I know you do.”
“What I know is that you don’t want to come to the attention of a master vampire. They’re mean, Irving.”
“The vampires are trying to mainstream themselves. They want positive attention. An interview about what he wants to do with the vampire community. His vision of the future. It would be very up-and-coming. No corpse jokes. No sensationalism. Straight journalism.”
“Yeah, right. On page one a tasteful little headline: THE MASTER VAMPIRE OF ST. LOUIS SPEAKS OUT.”
“Yeah, it’ll be great.”
“You’ve been sniffing newsprint again, Irving.”
“I’ll give you everything we have on Gaynor. Pictures.”
“How do you know you have pictures?” I said.
He stared up at me, his round, pleasant face cheerfully blank.
“You recognized the name, you little son of...”
“Tsk, tsk, Anita. Help me get an interview with the Master of the City. I’ll give you anything you want.”
“I’ll give you a series of articles about zombies. Full-color pictures of rotting corpses, Irving. It’ll sell papers.”
“No interview with the Master?” he said.
“If you’re lucky, no,” I said.
“Shoot.”
“Can I have the file on Gaynor?”
He nodded. “I’ll get it together.” He looked up at me. “I still want you to meet me at Dead Dave’s. Maybe a vamp will talk to me with you around.”
“Irving, being seen with a legal executioner of vampires is not going to endear you to the vamps.”
“They still call you the Executioner?”
“Among other things.”
“Okay, the Gaynor file for going along on your next vampire execution?”
“No,” I said.
“Ah, Anita...”
“No.”
He spread his hands wide. “Okay, just an idea. It’d be a great article.”
“I don’t need the publicity, Irving, not that kind anyway.”
He nodded. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll meet you at Dead Dave’s in about two hours.”
“Make it an hour. I’d like to be out of the District before full dark.”
“Is anybody gunning for you down there? I mean I don’t want to endanger you, Blak
e.” He grinned. “You’ve given me too many lead stories. I wouldn’t want to lose you.”
“Thanks for the concern. No, no one’s after me. Far as I know.”
“You don’t sound real certain.”
I stared at him. I thought about telling him that the new Master of the City had sent me a dozen white roses and an invitation to go dancing. I had turned him down. There had been a message on my machine and an invitation to a black tie affair. I ignored it all. So far the Master was behaving like the courtly gentleman he had been a few centuries back. It couldn’t last. Jean-Claude was not a person who took defeat easily.
I didn’t tell Irving. He didn’t need to know. “I’ll see you at Dead Dave’s in an hour. I’m gonna run home and change.”
“Now that you mention it, I’ve never seen you in a dress before.”
“I had a funeral today.”
“Business or personal?”
“Personal,” I said.
“Then I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I’ve got to go if I’m going to have time to change and then meet you. Thanks, Irving.”
“It’s not a favor, Blake. I’ll make you pay for those zombie articles.”
I sighed. I had images of him making me embrace the poor corpse. But the new legislation needed attention. The more people who understood the horror of it, the better chance it had to pass. In truth, Irving was still doing me a favor. No need to let him know that, though.
I walked away into the dimness of the darkened office. I waved over my shoulder without looking back. I wanted to get out of this dress and into something I could hide a gun on. If I was going into Blood Square, I might need it.
Chapter 12
Dead Dave’s is in the part of St. Louis that has two names. Polite: the Riverfront. Rude: the Blood Quarter. It is our town’s hottest vampire commercial district. Big tourist attraction. Vampires have really put St. Louis on the vacation maps. You’d think that the Ozark Mountains, some of the best fishing in the country, the symphony, Broadway level musicals, or maybe the Botanical Gardens would be enough, but no. I guess it’s hard to compete with the undead. I know I find it difficult.
Dead Dave’s is all dark glass and beer signs in the windows. The afternoon sunlight was fading into twilight. Vamps wouldn’t be out until full dark. I had a little under two hours. Get in, look over the file, get out. Easy. Ri-ight.
The Laughing Corpse abvh-2 Page 10