“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” The woman in the doorway wore a fringed tube of a dress, with thin straps and a binding over her breasts to keep them flat.
“Why are you here?” He took her in like a thirsty man takes a drink—her bobbed hair in short blonde waves, her dark eye makeup; everything about her looked perfect but it didn’t bring him any happiness.
“I need a man.” She walked toward him. The cheap wooden door swung shut behind her and the force made the light dangling from the ceiling dance.
“You’ve got a husband for that.” He didn’t stop her from climbing on top of him, hitching her skirt up until he could see the roll of her stockings and the tiniest triangle of her black panties.
“He’s no good for what I need, baby.” She sighed the words into his ear, breathing them more than speaking them. His hand relaxed and the gun dropped to the floor. She rubbed her body down the length of him and finished with a kiss. “You’re what I need.”
He kissed her back, grabbing her, dragging the two of them out of the chair and into a dark corner to the bed.
I came to with a start, my head resting on Calvin’s shoulder. It took me a minute to recover before I could say, “I’m sorry, I know I promised—”
“Don’t be,” he said. “That memory is pretty damn pleasant.”
I made a point of looking out the window while he adjusted his pants.
A little wonky from the dream, it took me a minute to remember why I’d been dreaming.
“You son of bitch! You put me under.” I threw the words at him, shocked and angry.
“Figured you needed the sleep. It being late and all.” His voice was immune to any accusation. “Besides, I thought it might help your attitude.”
The car pulled up in front of the studio security office. The lights inside were on but it looked empty.
“My attitude? You thought controlling my mind like I was some kind of fucking animal would help my attitude?” My voice was getting louder, fear fueling anger.
“Don’t go there, Hicks, okay? You were pissed about your sister, but don’t get pissed about what I did. If we’re going to do this, work together, find Samuel, I need you levelheaded. I thought some sleep would help with that.”
I took a deep breath and then another. For his point of view, it was completely logical, sane. From mine it was an invasion.
“Don’t ever do that again.” I spaced the words out, trying to make him see how much it bothered me.
His look was deadpan. A look that said he’d put me to sleep or whatever else came to mind when he thought I needed it.
“I mean it. You want me to stay out of your head, I want you out of mine. If I need to chill or adjust my attitude just tell me. I don’t want to be your victim.”
“It was a twenty-minute cat nap, Hicks. It hardly makes you a victim.”
“Yes, it does.” I spat the words at him. “Because it didn’t have to be that, it could have been anything.”
“Fair point. I’m sorry.” He sounded sorry, too, maybe remembering how it had felt when LaRue had forced him to let me into his head.
We sat there, me surprised at how easy it was to let go of being angry and him thinking whatever.
Eventually, he spoke again. “Can we do this now?”
“Sure,” I nodded.
“Good.” He smiled. And we both knew it was more about how we worked together than about searching the cop shop.
The security office front door was unlocked and the lights were on but no one was home. Calvin took the desk on the left. I took the one on the right. The studio security team functioned like a miniature private police force. They had all the toys and forms to prove it. Bulletproof vests decorated the wall like stockings on Christmas. Beside them, a large map of the back lot lived behind glass scribbled over with descriptions. A quick glance told me who was filming where this week. Handy to know, but not what I’d come for.
Calvin was already banging drawers open and rifling through papers. I joined him.
Ten minutes later, I didn’t have much to go on—accident forms for twisted ankles, a robbed car, nothing special. Calvin gave me a shake of the head, nothing on his desk either. I opened my mouth to ask what came next but he silenced me with a gesture.
“Snoring.” His voice sounded in my ear, that for-your-ears-only vampire speech.
I didn’t know whether to bolt to the front of the room or just hang out so I followed his lead. Down a hallway, in the corner of the building, a woman snored lightly on the couch.
Despite the way her head pressed into the velveteen fabric of the sofa, her hair hadn’t moved. She’d plastered a French braid back with enough hairspray to mimic shellac. Her bright red lipstick caked around her mouth, and the blue security uniform did nothing for her. How anyone could sleep wearing a belt that big with a walkie-talkie strapped to it was beyond me. But she slept when we opened the door and while Calvin relieved her of the walkie-talkie.
I circled around to the other side of the break room. There was a wall of kitchen cabinets and a refrigerator, a sink with two dirty coffee cups. Between us, a table with two plastic chairs completed the picture. When she woke up, we could all have a nice conversation.
Calvin touched her shoulder lightly. When that didn’t get a response, he shook her. The snoring turned into a cough, and she sat up coughing some more.
“Good morning,” he said cheerfully.
“Who are you? How’d you get in here?” She looked at him, coming completely awake in a second. “Where are Charlie and Jim?”
“That’s a very good question,” I replied, making her aware I was there. “Where are they?”
“This is a private area. I’m going to need you to go back to the reception desk. There’s obviously been a problem and—”
“No,” Calvin cut her off. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to sit down at that table and tell us where Charlie and Jim went.”
She shook her head. “I can’t do that. I need you to leave.”
“No. And if you keep going this way, I’ll have to smack you.” He opened his palm wide in front of her face. “But I don’t want to. It’d be much better for everyone if you just told us.”
She looked at his hand, anticipating the smack, then whimpered, “I can’t.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, trying to distract her.
“Tina.”
“Well, Tina, we really need your help. Your coworkers threatened our friend, and now he’s missing so—”
“I don’t know anything about that!” she interrupted me, proving the opposite. If I could tell she was lying, Calvin sure could.
“Come on.” He pulled her up, grabbing her shoulders tighter than he needed to. When he dropped her in the seat at the table, I could see divots in her uniform where his fingers had been.
He sat across from her at the table, spread his hands wide in front of him and looked at her. “Here’s the thing, honey, we need to know, so you need to tell us.”
She shook her head, braid swinging back and forth wildly, her face the perfect picture of negation. Inside her head was different. Something about Calvin, maybe the way he opened his palm, or the way he called her honey, set her mind to sex. I wondered if he’d caught it. Interrogation was Ted’s game, but Calvin seemed to know the rules, too.
“What are you thinking, Tina?” I tried to give him the idea without letting on to her that I knew.
“Nothing.” She shook her head a second time.
“Bullshit,” Calvin declared.
Her eyes went wide as saucers.
He kept his gaze pinned on her when he asked me, “What’s she thinking about?”
“Sex,” I said, glad he had given me a way to answer with one word.
“Really?” He gave a low whistle. “Tell me about it. What rocks your boat?”
“Nothing.” Her neck started to go red.
Calvin almost grinned. “That’s another lie. You want to tell me. You want to
say it, so say it. Get it out. Then tell us about Charlie and Jim, and the vampire they took a few days ago.”
She clammed up again, mouth screwed shut tight against the words, but the vibe shifted. She wanted him or wanted to tell him. I leaned against the break room cabinets, trying my best to disappear into the wall.
Whatever was going on in her head, Calvin caught it. He leaned forward and put his hands on hers. “Tell me.”
That was it—the way he called her honey. Between how he said it and touched her hand, she broke open like a dam in a flood. Her mumbled confession had something to do with a vampire. Her blush turned into a flush, sweat gathered on her neck. It didn’t take me reaching out to know dance of him being in charge, forcing her to talk, was exactly what she wanted.
“It hurt, a little, but that bite…” She stopped and licked her lips again, then looked down at her wedding ring. She played with it, twisting it around. “But I swore I’d never do it again. Once was enough.”
“Don’t lie to me, honey.” Calvin let a hint of authority come into his voice. He wasn’t going to beat the information we needed out of her. He was going to make her want to tell him. It was a neat trick but I wasn’t sure I had the stomach for it.
“You should go, Hicks.” Calvin said it to me using that vampire trick to keep from distracting her. I was out of the room in a second, without a sound. I lingered in the main office, not sure what to do or where to go when the emotions – desire and sex mixed with a hint of fear and pain – started from behind the door. Then I ran to my car.
14
I was down the rabbit hole and everything black had turned white. A woman had admitted her hidden fantasy, and Calvin was willing to fulfill it to find out where Samuel was. My mind reeled, thinking about what he’d said about Jo, how she used sex as a weapon. Was that any different from what he was doing? After they’d finished, when her uniform was crumpled on the floor, and their sweaty bodies stopped moving, he’d asked her about Samuel again. And she’d tell him everything. Did that make it okay to exploit her that way? Was he even exploiting her or was she going along with it as a willing adult? I needed a drink. Several drinks actually. Without realizing it I drove to Burgundy and Blues.
It was Friday night and Jo would be singing soon. I had things I wanted to ask her, stuff I needed to get straight in my head. I went to the bar to order the drink I needed and one for her. Her blood appeared a second later, warm red fluid in a wine glass. I looked at it and asked for a second shot of whiskey. I swallowed that and another before I had him pour a glass of wine for me. The alcohol brought a warm comfort to my belly.
Was what Tina wanted really that twisted? Lots of people wanted vampires, their bite or the touch of cold skin. Was there more to it than that? Whatever it was Calvin was far too good at manipulating her. If he could do that, but he was still scared of Jo, then she had to be all kinds of dangerous. But was she, really? I didn’t know and the easiest way to find out was to ask her.
Jo fussed with her makeup backstage. I didn’t see the need. She was prettier than anyone I knew without it. Still, there she was pasting on eyelashes. I put the wine glass down in front of her, proud of myself for not flinching about carrying around a glass filled with blood.
“Tough night?” she asked.
My expression must have been rough. I didn’t bother to change it. “I’m not sure I like people anymore.”
“That sounds pretty rough.”
“You ever kill anyone?” The conversation I’d had with Calvin days ago weighed on my mind.
“Sure,” she replied, absentmindedly taking a drink.
“How?”
“Do you really want to know?” She met my eyes in the mirror, a makeup brush balanced in her hand.
“I’m feeling a little lost,” I admitted. “I trust you. I think we’re great friends but the more I talk to Calvin, the more I think there’s a whole side of you I don’t know. And maybe I should be worried about that side?” I flopped down on to the ratty backstage couch. “Am I making a damn bit of sense?”
“Yup.” She smacked her lips together, blotting bright red lipstick before turning to me. The tiny makeup stool skated across the floor to come to a stop inches from my couch.
Jo reached out both manicured hands to take mine. “Some of them, it just happened.” The image played in my head, Jo in bed with another woman, sweat on their skin, so close to orgasm it was all she could think of. Her hands wrapped tight around the other woman’s head. The rush of climax made her fingers clench and then the other woman was gone, dead. Her voice brought me back to reality. “Some of them, I admit, I enjoyed it.”
Now the memory was different LaRue laughing with some woman. An instant later, the same face with eyes wide open as Jo watched from her neck, the taste of blood in my mouth telling me Jo had taken too much. Deliberately taken too much and enjoyed it.
The emotion pounding into me wasn’t joy though. “I didn’t realize you got jealous.”
“Everyone gets moody.” She didn’t let go of my hands, and looked up at me, pleading. “Everyone has their demons. Before someone convinces you I’m pure evil, is there anything I’ve done that you haven’t? When’s the last time you killed someone, Elisabeth?”
My own memories of death sprang to my head. I relived them the way I’d relived hers. Mostly they were people I’d shot in the war but there were others, too. And not just gunshots, but hand-to-hand. I cut a throat once in feral violent display, my heart pumping, blood splashing over me. I hadn’t thought about it for years, but now it all came back—the memory of fighting with someone, rolling over the ground, sure one of us wasn’t going to get up, and the heat of that blood against my skin in the winter night.
“None of us are angels. You look at anyone’s life from a certain angle long enough and they become the devil.” She leaned forward and squeezed my hands gently, before she dropped them.. “But that doesn’t mean we’re devils.”
“No, it doesn’t.” I was wrung out. I’d felt too many emotions in too short of a time.
“But even if we were, doesn’t the devil deserve a friend? A little peace?” She was close to tears, her eyes wide and wet. I realized my question scared her. She didn’t want me to think of her the way LaRue’s thugs did. She wanted me to be her friend.
Instead of answering, I hugged her hard. “Go sing for me.”
“What do you want? Something sexy? Something sad?”
“Something fun. I’ve had enough of sex tonight.”
“Too bad for Ted.”
She popped up on stage. A second later, she had the audience laughing and a few minutes after that she had half of them howling. They gave off a pleasant vibe of fun and cheerfulness. She made them feel that way. I didn’t quite feed off of them, but I did get something from it. For a lot of people that would make me a monster, but to her, and to the other people that mattered, it didn’t.
I leaned back and enjoyed it all.
15
I glanced at the stack of papers on my desk. Normally, I wouldn’t go into the office at the end of the night, but tonight had been strange. Inside Calvin’s head, watching the weird dance of seduction he’d done with Tina, and then the talk with Jo.
Now I was too keyed up to sleep but too full of emotions to want to call someone. Who was I kidding? Not call someone—call Ted. If it had been an hour earlier, or if William wasn’t camping out at his place, I would call. Pour my heart out. Talk about Jeremy and how he fit into things. Generally, take some comfort in sharing it all with someone else.
But it was too late. Tonight, comfort would come from a bottle, or maybe some other diversion—I didn’t want to drink too much. I checked my messages, hoping for something, but nothing. Not a sound to distract me from the things on my mind—Jo’s bloodlust, the machinations of a studio police force. I dropped into my chair, rubbing my face. Sleep wouldn’t come until I had some sense of order in my head, but meditation wouldn’t calm the insanity. I opened my eyes, looking fo
r something, anything, and they landed on the stacks of OPS paperwork. Paperwork that should have been taken to Ted’s place.
I skipped over Rudy’s file. It was too close to one of the problems I wanted to be distracted from. Past Ted’s. I didn’t need any more revelations about people I cared about tonight. William, though, I didn’t really give a damn about him. His file would probably make for interesting bedtime reading.
I carried his history upstairs, disappointed by how light it felt. William seemed old to me. I wanted a longer, juicer story than the scant pages in my hands suggested. I set them neatly on the bed, the white paper and black print severe against the peach and lace. I forced myself to shower first but after that curiosity overwhelmed me. In almost no time I was between the blankets, holding the pages. Somehow, the tall canopy bed was perfect for this titillating read.
I started with the psychological profile, only to be denied. “Information on subject’s childhood does not exist.”
Damn.
Thankfully, the paragraphs got juicy after that.
Subject was employed as a gun smith in Williamsburg, Virginia. Little information exists regarding his role as a citizen. Gravestones indicate he was married; wife’s name Annabelle, born 1751, died 1774. No other information regarding wife. He had one son, Thomas, born 1774, suggesting wife died in childbirth. He purchased an indentured servant, Martha, the same year, most likely to care for his son.
Circumstances surrounding his death are a matter of record. On an evening in October, William “The Gun Smith”, Joseph “The Cobbler”, and Prentis “The Shopkeep”, were gathered in the room of a man who had recently arrived in town. After requesting goods from each of them, the man offered to pay a “pricey sum, far exceeding usual payment in exchange for haste” and, in addition, to give each man “a turn in his marriage bed.” The man’s wife objected and William “sprang to her defense, whereupon he was shot by the man, in full view of his fellow townspeople.” (see trial records).
Hollywood Dead: Elisabeth Hicks, Witch Detective Page 15