Polanski Brothers

by Dakota Cassidy

  Spencer ran her hands over her legs in nervous patterns. “Yes, cut again. It just seemed so unnecessary. So I was sort of straightening the pillow under his head when I saw the bites. They’re really small and not the usual variety or at least not like what Joel had when Cathy bit him.”

  Larkin jerked back and looked at her in confusion. “Your cousin?”

  She nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Yeah, Joel was a human.”

  “But you just told me you don’t bite other people.”

  “Not unless they want to be bitten…”

  “He wanted to be bitten? What the hell is that?”

  “Yes, Detective, he wanted to be bitten. He fell in love and decided leaving Cathy behind—because obviously she’d outlive him—was something he didn’t want to do. So he asked and she complied. We don’t just bite anybody, Larkin, and I’m sick to death of the population at large having this stupid notion that we want to rule the world by turning everyone into one of us. Some humans would make shitty vampires.” Her voice was growing louder and more irritated by the second, so she clamped it shut.

  Larkin put both of his hands in the air as white flags. “Okay. I’m sorry. It just seemed—” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what it seemed like. Finish the story.”

  “The bites on Alan’s neck were very small compared to those that Joel had. His were like hickeys we teased him unmercifully over. Maybe it was a more bite-skilled vamp that bit Alan? I don’t know and I don’t know why anyone would bite Alan after he’d already killed himself.”

  “Maybe he didn’t kill himself,” Larkin said flatly.

  “Do you have any idea what it’s going to be like if someone finds out about this? The coroner’s office will eat us alive. They’ll eventually think it was us who did this. The Polanskis and I’ll be damned if I’ll let that happen.”

  “Aren’t you conclusion hopping? I mean, no one knows you’re vampires.”

  Spencer pushed off of Larkin’s lap and stood in front of him. “Well, they will if you have anything to say about it, Sherlock,” she said angrily. “You were the one who opened up this damn can of worms with your big shot cop routine here in Small-town-ville.”

  “Do you think someone in your family would do something like this?” he asked quietly.

  She lifted her chin and looked him squarely in his eyes. “No. I don’t think either. I know they wouldn’t do something like this. We don’t bite anyone but our life mates, ever.”

  “And this Brian?”

  Good gravy, had she thought about him too?

  Larkin’s head bobbed. “Yep, you did.”

  “Same thing. He has small incisor bites just like Alan’s, but he died in a car accident.”

  Larkin rolled his tongue in his cheek. “Where’s Brian’s body?”

  Spencer flinched. “Buried. Today.”

  “His body could be evidence.”

  “I know, for Christ sake, but I had a choice to make,” she yelled in defense. “Either let it go or possibly jeopardize my family over a man I can’t save anyway. How do you suppose Brian’s family is going to feel if we call them up and tell them he didn’t die in a car accident? Nah, your son was bitten by a vamp. You know, Dracula and all? That’ll go over really big, Larkin.”

  Running a big hand through his hair again, Larkin nodded. “I understand, but it’s evidence that might have helped us.”

  “How, Larkin? Who’s going to believe it’s vampires anyway? They’ll probably chalk it up to cult killings or something. You have no idea how often that happens without any of your human cops ever knowing about it.”

  Larkin popped his lips and shook his head as he leaned back and let his long legs stretch out. “It doesn’t change the fact that someone needs to pay for this, Spencer. Someone killed Alan and I intend to find out who and why.”

  “Fine. Just leave my family alone in the process,” she said between teeth clenched so hard she thought her jaw would snap.

  “You know I can’t do that, Spencer. You’re a vampire and if it is in fact another vampire that killed Alan and this guy Brian, you’re going to be my vampire guide.”

  Spencer’s rush of fury whaled her between the eyes just before she saw red. “Fuck—off!”

  Larkin began to laugh, tipping his head back and roaring at her, which only infuriated her that much more. She had a good pissed off going on and she wasn’t letting it go. Spencer grabbed him by the front of his shirt and shook him, knowing she had an advantage because of her strength. Their eyes clashed. “I’m not your guinea vamp, McBride.”

  “Nope,” he said with an eerie calm. “But you could be in danger, too. You have some scary information that might piss off whoever this is and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  She loosened her grip on his shirt. “So I’m not a suspect, too?”

  Larkin smiled smugly. “Do you suppose you could have hidden that from me?”

  Right. The Amazing Kreskin all up in her head. How could she have forgotten that?

  Chapter 8

  “So, you gonna tell me about Joffrey the pansy-assed, blue-lipped, hair-better-than-yours lifemate?” Larkin asked as they sat parked in front of Alan Perkins’ house. It was a small two story just at the end of town. Neatly manicured lawn and well-kept exterior.

  Spencer slunk down in her seat. Fuck. “No, I’m not.”

  Larkin’s profile was hard and unyielding. His jaw twitched. “Well, from the sounds of it, you’re not too pleased with this turn of events.”

  “You oughta know, Detective. You’ve obviously read my thoughts on Joffrey.”

  “Good thing he can’t read your thoughts, huh?”

  Spencer dug in her purse for an elastic band to tie her hair back. “Whatever,” she replied.

  “So he knows he’s your life mate because he can smell you?”

  Spencer snorted and wrapped the elastic band around a thick wad of her hair. “Yeah, that’s what he says.”

  Larkin grabbed her wrist to make her look at him. “So what does that mean?”

  Shrugging she said, “It means he has a better nose than I do and why not? I mean, he has better hair than I do.”

  “Does it mean you have to like marry him? Do vampires do something as humanly archaic as get married?”

  “Um, no. This isn’t like we’re betrothed or anything. I have one thing going for me. I can’t smell, so I can’t confirm or deny Joffrey’s claim. Right now, I’m backstroking in the river of denial.”

  Larkin’s chuckle bounced off the small confines of the car’s interior. “Does your family know?”

  “Yeah. That’s who Joffrey told first. Nice, huh? Didn’t even bother to tell the person he has to spend the rest of his bloody eternity with before he hit up my parents. I told him he could kiss my undead ass and sent him packing.”

  Larkin’s fingers caressed her wrist absently, sending delicious chills along her arm. “How does your family feel about it?”

  Spencer laughed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. “My mother flipped. She doesn’t like him any more than I do. My dad didn’t say much. Just that it was up to Joffrey to prove his intentions, which of course I intend to ignore.”

  “Why?”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Because he icks me out, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear, stud?”

  Larkin let her hand go and with it went the trails of fire licking at her nerve endings. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted to hear, that he icks you out.” He reached for the door handle. “C’mon, let’s go see what Alan had going on.”

  On the ride over Larkin briefly told her that the coroner’s office found no suicide note, something that almost all suicide victims leave behind. He said that the coroner’s office in Easton just might have jumped to a hasty conclusion about the cause of Alan’s death and they were sending someone out tomorrow to do a thorough search of Alan’s house. According to Larkin, he wanted to be the first to find something if there was anything to fi
nd. He owed Alan that much.

  Spencer couldn’t help but feel a sense of respect for Larkin’s attitude—if nothing else he was a good friend, even if he was a pushy, nosy bastard.

  Larkin came up behind her as they stood in front of Alan’s door. “Am not,” he said over her shoulder as he popped the key in the lock.

  Spencer shivered as his stubble grazed her cheek. “Not what?”

  “A pushy, nosy bastard,” he said as he pulled on some latex gloves and pushed the door open.

  Spencer peeked hesitantly at the interior of the house. “Get the hell out of my head, Larkin.”

  He chuckled as he slid past her and flipped on the lights. Spencer whistled. “Wow, this is some place.”

  Larkin nodded wordlessly as he, too, stared at the immaculate white furniture. Pillows lined the circular sofa each on a perfect diagonal angle. A thin layer of dust had begun to accumulate on the leaded glass coffee table. Tall, potted fica trees stood by the entryway to the kitchen, which Spencer was sure was just as white and pristine as the living room. “He’s pretty good at this decorating stuff. Was he like this in the Army?”

  Larkin headed for the desk by the bay window. “Well, he was neat, but this is perfect. Remember what I told you, don’t touch anything.”

  “No kidding,” Spencer commented as she followed him to the desk. “Did he have a girlfriend?” She couldn’t remember anyone mentioning a girlfriend.

  “Not according to his mom. Why?”

  “Because it’s damn near perfect in here. I haven’t seen too many men’s apartments that look like this.”

  But Larkin was ignoring her and rifling through papers in Alan’s desk, setting each piece carefully back where he’d found it.

  All while Larkin sifted through Alan’s things, Spencer spent some time trying to figure out who Alan was as a person. What he liked other than orderliness by looking at the paintings on the wall, hung to perfection, the pictures of his family. Yet, nothing about his space gave her much insight. It was almost too clean to get a sense of him.

  An hour later Larkin sat back in the desk chair and blew out a puff of air, his wide chest expanding. “Not a Goddamned thing.”

  Spencer kept silent. She didn’t know what to say other than maybe Alan really did kill himself and Larkin just couldn’t accept that.

  Larkin shook his head, his lips a firm line, his dark hair swishing against the collar of his shirt. “No, no he didn’t. I can feel it in my gut, Spencer.”

  Spencer sighed and wandered over to the breakfast bar where a bowl with some miscellaneous items were thrown together. It was the only cluttered thing about Alan Perkins’ house. “Look, Larkin. A matchbook from that stupid club the Hole.”

  Larkin came up behind her and grabbed it up with his gloved hands, flipping open the front of the matchbook. “Nothing. Shit. I knew he went to the Hole. It’s why I was there the other night, just to get a feel for the place. Alan didn’t seem like the type to like the kind of crap they played there, but things change.”

  “So, what’s next, Detective?”

  Larkin’s cell phone rang and he held up a finger as he slid his finger over the screen and answered tersely, “McBride.”

  His long legs began to pace as he silently listened to the caller, his forehead wrinkling in a frown. Finally, he said, “Okay, Adelaide. I’ll be right there. Just sit tight, okay?”

  Spencer’s spine stiffened when she heard Alan’s mother’s name. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”

  “Guess who has a suicide note?” he asked with a grim grunt.

  Oh, God, no…

  * * * *

  Larkin drove the few miles to Adelaide’s house to find her sobbing and shaking. Her neighbor let them in, then quietly drifted to the back room.

  Adelaide clung to Larkin, clutching the unlined, white piece of paper in her aging hand. She looked even smaller than she had the night of Alan’s wake, small and fragile.

  “I can’t bear this, Larkin. I c-ca-can’t,” she sobbed into his shoulder.

  Spencer put her hand on Adelaide’s back momentarily, then turned toward the kitchen to look for the makings for some tea. “Come sit with me,” she heard Larkin say, soothing and deep.

  Spencer gripped the edge of the counter. She didn’t want to know what was in the note. She just wanted this to end for Adelaide. As she searched Adelaide’s cabinets and made a steaming cup of Earl Grey, she pondered how gentle Larkin was with his best friend’s mother. Yet another side to him that was totally unexpected.

  She wafted her hand over the cup as she brought it to Adelaide who sat beside Larkin on the couch with her head in her hands.

  She looked worn and frazzled when she glanced up to thank Spencer. “Oh, it’s you, from the funeral home, right? Thank you, dear.”

  “Adelaide, where did you get this note?” Larkin asked, the tic in his jaw pulsing.

  “It was in the mailbox,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion now, obviously weary from her crying.

  “No postmark? Just an envelope?”

  Adelaide nodded woodenly and Spencer came to sit beside her, encouraging her to drink the tea.

  “How long has it been since you checked the mail, Adelaide?”

  Spencer handed her a tissue and she wiped her eyes with it, smiling for the first time in gratitude. “Since the day before Alan’s death, I think.”

  Larkin’s eyes turned dark and his jaw twitched again. “So it could have been Alan who put it there?”

  Adelaide’s shoulders slumped in obvious resignation. “Yes, I guess it could have.”

  Larkin ran a hand through his hair and frowned, his jaw tight. “Can your neighbor stay with you tonight, Adelaide?” he asked gently.

  “She offered to.”

  “Good, then let’s have her do that. I’ll see what I can find out about this. Can you sit tight for me for a few days, Adelaide?” Larkin spoke softly, his normally gruff tone gentle and soothing.

  Adelaide reached a thin, wrinkled hand out to him and he took it in his, giving it a consoling squeeze. “Yes, I think so.”

  “That a girl. I’ll be back, okay?”

  Adelaide nodded, letting Larkin’s hand fall away as she sat back on the sofa and rested her head against the couch. “Mrs. Perkins, if there’s anything you need, please let me know,” Spencer said softly, dropping a card with her personal number on it on the coffee table.

  “Thank you, dear,” she whispered as Spencer and Larkin made a swift exit.

  Larkin stomped to his car, his stride quick and crisp. He leaned against the roof and let his head rest on his forearms.

  Spencer went to the passenger side and peered over the roof at him. Her gut tensed at the horror Adelaide was experiencing and the torture she knew this must be for Larkin to watch. “I’m sorry, Larkin. I really am.”

  His head snapped up. “Sorry enough to help me?”

  Spencer nodded as she yanked open the passenger door. She didn’t know what there was to help him with. It was pretty clear that Alan had killed himself, but if it eased his pain, she’d help. “You bet.”

  Larkin slid into the car and turned the ignition. “He said it was because of a woman.”

  Well ain’t love grand? “A woman?”

  “Yeah, some shit about she was never coming back and he couldn’t live with it.”

  Spencer swallowed hard. “Did he write it, Larkin?”

  “It was printed. He didn’t mention a name and Adelaide said Alan never said a word about anyone. She was devastated that he didn’t come to her about it. She feels like she failed him.”

  As they sped toward her apartment, Spencer watched the lights of the houses on the rural road fly past her. “Was he that close to Adelaide? I mean, would he share something like that with her? If he loved this woman why didn’t he ever bring her home to meet his mother?”

  Larkin grimaced, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “I don’t have a damn clue. Alan always talked about his mother with so much pride. When
he invited me to come home with him they were really great together or at least I thought so. She was the kind of mother every guy wants, ya know?”

  Spencer did know, because she had a mother just like that. “I do understand and I don’t know what to say. I wish for Adelaide’s sake this would end. She looks exhausted.”

  Larkin pulled up in front of her apartment. “She is. Now, invite me in,” he said as he threw open the car door and ignored her prepared protest.

  Spencer let her chin fall to her chest. Was there no end to this man’s presumption?

  Larkin pulled her door open and stuck his face in hers with a cocky grin. “No end in sight.”

  Slipping past him, Spencer let her body brush his briefly before she ran up the steps to her complex. “Well, c’mon. Quit looking at my ass and let’s go.”

  “Hey,” he yelled. “Can you read my thoughts now too?”

  She giggled when he caught up with her and pushed her gently into her apartment. “You’re a man. They’re written all over your crotch.”

  Spencer almost felt him looking south as she yanked off her jacket and threw it on her coat rack. Pressing the button on her blinking answering machine she listened as Larkin came up behind her and pulled her flush to his hard body.

  “Hey, Spencer. It’s Ethan. Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back tomorrow around noon. It’ll be good to see you again. Love ya.”

  Larkin’s big hands froze. “Who the hell is Ethan?” he growled in her ear.

  Spencer turned to face him and smiled. “I guess I could tell you he’s another suitor just to piss you off, but frankly after my de-virginizing, I find I’d rather not play games.” Spencer let the heel of her hand run over Larkin’s crotch, rubbing the thick outline of his cock.

  “Who’s Ethan?”

  Spencer unzipped his jeans and jammed her hands in them, pulling them to his knees. “He’s my brother, mind reader.”

  “Oh.”

  Spencer knelt in front of him, pressing her cheek to his thigh. “Yeah, oh. Ready to shut up now, Detective?” she asked as she let her lips linger near the strain of flesh between his thighs, nuzzling the thick outline with her nose.