by Ray Garton
"Sure."
They stopped at Karen's house, and she went upstairs and changed into a white-and-yellow blouse and bluejeans. She applied some makeup and the bruises on her face looked much less severe. She could not hide that black eye with makeup, though. She put on a pair of sunglasses.
"You don't mind driving again?" she said. "I'm hurting too much to drive."
"I don't mind at all."
In the car, Karen opened her cell phone and called Burgess. He was still at Cedars-Sinai hospital, and agreed to meet them in the cafeteria.
With Karen giving him directions, Keoph headed for the hospital.
"What are you going to do now that we're done, Keoph?" Karen said.
"I don't know. I'm not anxious to go back home, to be honest. I'd like to give my ex-wife a little more time to cool off. Or slash her wrists. It's up to her, really, either one would be fine with me."
Karen smiled. "You've still got your sense of humor, Keoph. That's a good sign."
Keoph said nothing for awhile, then, "I may stay here another two or three days. See the city. Go to some museums. Maybe see a movie at the Chinese Theater. How would you like to be my guide?"
Karen turned to him.
Keoph held up his right hand. "Not like a date, or anything like that."
Karen's eyebrows rose. "Why not like a date?"
"Because we may be working together again, and I've got rules about that."
"Working together again?"
"Don't you remember what Burgess said?" Keoph asked. "He said he was just starting with the vampires. He didn't come right out and say it, but I got the impression he plans to hire us for other investigations. Think you'd be up to it?"
"Well, it's pretty hard to turn down that much money."
"You got that right."
"I guess I'd be open to it. It would depend on the investigation. I'm sure as hell not going anywhere near vampires again, though. I won't do that."
"I don't blame you. Are you going to call that psychiatrist, make an appointment?"
"Yes, I am."
"Good. As long as I know you're getting some help, I'll keep my mouth shut about it."
Karen smiled wearily. "I appreciate your concern, Keoph. It's just that... well, I'm not exactly made of gossamer, you know?"
"I know. Anyone who's not ashamed to knock back a scotch in the middle of the day is probably able to take care of herself."
Karen chuckled. "Thank you for that vote of confidence."
They arrived at the hospital and Keoph parked. They followed the signs to the cafeteria, where Burgess was seated at a table eating a sandwich. He wore a black T-shirt—written on the front in dripping red letters was the caption, WANNA COME UP AND SEE MY CHAINSAW? He looked like he'd dropped a little weight. His face was drawn and weary.
Karen and Keoph went to the table and seated themselves across from him.
"Miss Moffett," Burgess said, "it's so good to see you. You had us all very worried."
"It's good to be seen, Mr. Burgess."
Burgess turned to his briefcase on the chair to his right, opened it, and removed two white business-size envelopes. He closed the briefcase and handed the envelopes over the table to Karen and Keoph. "Your final payment," he said.
They took their envelopes.
"We haven't put together any kind of report yet," Keoph said.
"I know you will. Somehow ... I don't know, it just doesn't seem as important as it did before. Now, all that's important is that I got Denise back."
"Davey Owen wasn't as lucky," Karen said. "Casey was murdered."
Burgess lowered his head for a moment. Finally, he looked at Keoph and said, "You wanted to tell me about something?"
"I wanted to tell you about everything that happened," Keoph said. "We'll write it all up, but I want to tell you now."
For the next hour, Burgess listened as Keoph and Karen spoke. He slowly ate his sandwich and drank Diet Dr Pepper from the can next to his plate.
As they spoke, both Karen and Keoph—especially Keoph—realized they needed to talk about it. They had to tell someone, to hear themselves say it all, and to know that someone was listening, someone who would believe them. Burgess occasionally interrupted them to ask questions, but most of the time, he listened intensely with a deep frown on his forehead. They told him about Mrs. Dupassie, and about the night the brutals burst into her apartment to take Karen and Casey. Karen told them about the dark room she and Casey were kept in, about the horrible sound that went off at regular intervals. Keoph told him about the mutant vampires in the sub-basement of the Royal Arms Hotel, about the deaths of Steve and Neil, and about the search for Karen.
When they were done, none of them spoke for awhile.
There was a television suspended high in one corner of the cafeteria, and Keoph glanced at it. He did a double take when he saw the Royal Arms Hotel on the screen.
"Excuse me," Keoph said as he got up and went over to the television, turned his ear toward it.
"—shooters were not found," a male voice said over the shot of the hotel, "although police are mystified by the discovery of several corpses in various states of decay. The corpses were found in the corridors of the hotel by the SWAT team that entered the building. Some were little more than bones. According to a source close to the police, the hotel's residents appear to be more like prisoners. Some have been badly beaten, raped repeatedly, and even starved. A small film studio was discovered in the basement, as were many pornographic videos, along with what appear to be two torture chambers. According to a source close to the case, the police will probably be piecing it all together for some time. We will bring updates to you as they are released."
The newscaster appeared then, perfectly coiffed, and went on to the next story.
Keoph returned to the table. "Well, it's a big story in the news. It sounds like any remaining vampires fled the building right away. All they've found are the dead people, and all the people locked up in the rooms."
"What if it breaks?" Burgess said. "I mean, what if the vampires are found and exposed?"
Keoph shrugged. "I'll be back in San Francisco going about my business."
Karen said, "As long as we're not connected to it, they can do whatever they want with them. My opinion? They should kill every last one of them."
"They'd have to catch them first," Keoph said. "I bet there's a lot of scrambling going on in the vampire community tonight."
Burgess finished his soda, then said, "How do you two feel about ghosts?"
"Ghosts?" Keoph said.
"What kind of ghosts?" Karen said. "You mean, literal spirits?"
Burgess smiled briefly. "There's an allegedly haunted house I've been keeping up with over the years."
Keoph looked at Karen, and she looked at him.
"We're going to need time to recover from this investigation, Mr. Burgess," Keoph said.
"The pay will be the same," Burgess said.
Keoph and Karen looked at each other again.
"Not right away, Mr. Burgess," Karen said. "But please don't take that as a no."
Burgess smiled. "I can live with that."
"Sure you don't want to show me around the city, Moffett?" Keoph said. "I'd like to see all the museums, all the major points of interest. And Disneyland, of course."
"Nothing personal, Keoph, but I plan to spend the next couple days in a hot bath. But I'll be happy to do that the next time you're in town."
"Fair enough. Ah, I suppose I should go back, anyway. Things are screwed up at the office."
"Now you can pay off your ex-wife, and it won't hurt," Karen said.
"Believe me, it always hurts, no matter how much money I have." He sighed. "I guess I'll go to my hotel, where I haven't been staying. I'll get on the phone and arrange for a flight home. You going to be able to drive home from there?"
"Yes. It'll hurt, but I'll do it. Everything hurts, anyway. That two-day bath will make a big difference."
Keoph
smiled. He drove to the Chateau Marmont on Sunset and double-parked.
"Moffett, it's been a pleasure working with you," he said.
"The pleasure was mine, Keoph." They shook hands.
"Sounds like Burgess wants to hire us again," Keoph said.
"Yeah. Ghosts. Well, they don't sound as dangerous as vampires." She reached into her purse and removed a business card, which she handed to Keoph. "You want to write that report for Burgess, or shall I?"
"I'll write it. You take that two-day bath."
"My e-mail address is on the card," she said. "Send me a copy, okay?"
"Will do."
They both got out of the car and met in front of it.
"You'll let me know when you're ready to do another job with Burgess, won't you?" Keoph said.
She gave him a half-smile that was very appealing in spite of her bruises. "I will. We'll talk then."
As Keoph went into the hotel, Karen got behind the wheel and pulled away from the curb.
That night, Davey sat naked on a rock at the foot of the Y in the Hollywood sign. The red blanket was still there, as were the ice bucket and the overturned vase that held the dozen roses, all of which had died and shriveled. The ground was muddy from the summer rain. It was a dark night—there were still clouds in the sky obscuring the moon and stars.
He sat there for a long time without moving, thinking of Casey.
Before they got together, they had been friends and coworkers at Pendant Publishing. She had stood by while Davey had gone through one bad relationship after another. She had finally pointed out to him that he gravitated toward women who were bad for him, and all the while, she was there, in love with him. She had turned his life around. Looking back on the relationships he'd had, he realized he had never really been loved until Casey. She had taught him how to love and be loved.
Tears fell from his eyes, and were quickly followed by chest-cracking sobs. He wailed as he cried for his loss, wailed like a small injured child. The sound of his crying echoed over the mountain and sent birds flying from their perches. He sat there for a long time, crying in the night.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2005 by Ray Garton
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-2774-1
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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RAY GARTON
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