Spirit Sanguine

by Lou Harper

  Gabe nodded. “Two things. One, the police found a stake at the first scene.”

  Harvey raised his brows. “That’s strange. So maybe it’s not a vampire at all but a slayer?”

  “Possible, and that troubles me even more.”

  “What’s the other thing?”

  “I’m in over my head. All I was supposed to do was escort Denton to the murder scene, and now I’m trying to catch a killer. I’m not a cop.”

  Harvey narrowed his eyes. “Who’s Denton?”

  Oops. “Just a guy who can see how people died,” Gabe said as casually as he could manage.

  “You haven’t told me about him.”

  “It didn’t come up.”

  Harvey’s squint remained. “Well then, tell me everything about this investigation, from the beginning.”

  Gabe did. He recounted the whole thing, from the moment Augustine had summoned him. He even told Harvey about the trip to the overpass but left out a few irrelevant details. Harvey watching him as a hawk made him more than a little uncomfortable.

  Before it was time to go look for Rico again, Harvey kissed Gabe, then licked his lips.

  “How do I taste now?” Gabe asked. He tried to sound joking, not worried.

  “Eager with a dash of guilt.”

  Gabe disliked Rico right off the bat. The guy had the air of a man too aware of his own good looks. He gave Gabe’s private investigator license a bored glance, but he took his time to inspect the two of them standing at his door, probably trying to figure out the nature of their relationship. Gabe had no intention of enlightening him.

  “I’d like to ask you a few questions,” Gabe asked, cutting to the chase.

  “That’s too bad,” Rico replied, moving to close the door.

  “Fine. I’ll tell Victor Augustine. You can deal with him directly.”

  Rico stopped and glared at Gabe with annoyance mixed with a hint of anxiety. Gabe stared back at him with a disinterested smile. After a heavy moment, Rico let them in, although no farther than the entryway.

  “What’s this about?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.

  Gabe handed him Chrissy’s photo. “Do you know her?”

  Rico barely looked at it. “I’ve never met her.”

  “Eyewitnesses saw you together last night at Club 9.”

  Rico looked again. “Okay, I was with her. So what? I didn’t kill her.”

  Gabe raised his brows. “Why would you say that?”

  “She looks dead, and you wouldn’t be here if it was a traffic accident, now would you?” Rico seemed very proud of his deductive reasoning. “So what was it?”

  “Possible suicide.” He had no reason not to disclose as much.

  Rico snorted.

  “You don’t think she’d kill herself?”

  “I didn’t know her well enough to know what she’d do.”

  “But you were together last night?”

  “Yeah sure, for a while. It doesn’t mean I knew her outside the club.”

  “She was simply a happy meal to you?” Gabe spat the words at Rico.

  The vamp shrugged. “A man gets hungry on a night out. She was fine when I left her.”

  “So you didn’t follow her home and bleed her?”

  Rico returned Gabe’s glare with indignation. “Why would I do that? I already had her, and I have chicas all over town waiting for me to bite them. I don’t need to take it by force like some creep.” His slimy smugness made Gabe want to gag, but he kept his mask of disinterest.

  “Did you see her with anyone else after you…concluded your business?”

  “I paid no attention. No, wait, I saw her at the bar with some guy later.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  Rico shrugged. “Didn’t get a good look.”

  “Color of hair, height, clothes?”

  “Dark hair, I think. I don’t much look at guys, and the place was packed.”

  Gabe showed him Paul Mayer’s photo. “Do you know this man?”

  Rico gave the picture more of his attention this time. “Never seen him.”

  Gabe ran out of questions, so he thanked Rico for his help and said good-bye. The door slammed behind them.

  “If it goes on like this, I’ll need to get some business cards,” Gabe commented as they walked to the car.

  “Huh?”

  “You know, in cop shows the detective always hands over his card and says, ‘Call me if you remember anything else.’ I totally wanted to say that.”

  “I don’t think Rico would call you, no matter what.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “So what are we going to do next?”

  “We are doing nothing. I’m going to visit every bar in Boystown tomorrow night to see if anyone recognizes Paul Mayer.”

  “You’ll totally need me then. Some of those bars are vampire-run. I’ll have better success talking to other vamps.”

  “Aren’t you busy?”

  “Nah, nothing else to do, and all this sleuthing is fun stuff.”

  “You just like going to bars.” And meeting guys like Gustav, Gabe thought, with absurd irritation.

  “I do, but that’s beside the point.” Harvey wrinkled his nose. “We need a different picture of your victim. We can’t run around showing photos of a dead guy. Doesn’t go over well.”

  “Good point. I’ll call Ellie. I bet she can find something.”

  Next evening, a courier dropped a manila envelope off at their place. In it Gabe found a glossy four-by-five snapshot of Paul and another guy, standing next to each other. It wasn’t a great picture—taken at night, probably with a camera phone, but Paul was plenty recognizable, and positively alive.

  “This is perfect!” Harvey said.

  Gabe didn’t understand his excitement, or why he had to dig up their digital camera, but Harvey explained. “I have image editing software on my laptop, so I can paste our faces in there instead of this other guy’s.”

  “Why bother?”

  “You know, for a private dick, you’re pretty thick.”

  “All I heard was thick and dick,” Gabe deadpanned.

  “Try to be serious for a minute. People will be more forthcoming if they think you’re looking for a lost friend.”

  Harvey, of course, was right. People reacted much better to a snapshot than a crime scene photo. He and Gabe both had their own doctored pictures. They entered the bars separately, pretending not to know each other. If anyone on staff turned out to be a vamp, Harvey swung into action; otherwise, it was Gabe’s turn. They had quite a few positive hits; Paul Mayer liked to party, and he was attractive to anyone with eyes, including vampires.

  “Paul tasted like sweet summer vine,” Harvey quoted his latest interviewee. He and Gabe were on the street, heading for the next place.

  “Sounds rather corny,” Gabe answered.

  “You have no poetry in your soul.”

  “Poetry-shmoetry. Paul was only a meal to your guy.”

  “It’s not always that simple.”

  “Right. And he let a bunch of different…guys bang him in exchange for a quick rush.”

  “So he liked sex, big deal. A lot of us go through a slutty phase. And anyway, you’re one to talk, Mr. No Boyfriends.”

  “Touché.”

  “Sorry, Angel.” Harvey bumped Gabe with his hip.

  Gabe smacked Harvey’s ass in retaliation. “All we’ve learned so far is that Paul was the gay male version of Chrissy Lane. We’re not any closer finding out who killed him. We don’t even know which place he visited before he was killed.”

  “The night is young. And here we are.”

  They split up again before entering the next watering hole. By then they had their routine down pat. This time the man behind the bar was of the vampire persuasion, so Gabe hung back while Harvey went into action. Gabe sauntered over to the other end of the bar and ordered a beer. He watched through the refracted reflections of a bar mirror as Harvey chatted up the b
artender. He couldn’t hear anything said, but he knew Harvey reminisced about an old snack. Harvey shoved the photo under the nose of the bartender, who looked at it and nodded.

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  Gabe had been so engrossed observing Harvey, he hadn’t even noticed the vamp coming up behind him. Uncle Miklos would’ve been disappointed. In Gabe’s defense, he’d been too focused on Harvey.

  “I haven’t finished this one yet.” He lifted up his bottle to show.

  “Maybe something stronger?” The vamp glared at Gabe, rather determined. He wasn’t bad looking—a tall, blue-eyed blond with a square jaw. However, something about him didn’t sit right with Gabe. His aftershave was unusual, and he wore too much of it.

  “Nah, thanks, I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?” The vamp stared some more.

  “Oh, but he is fine.” Harvey appeared next to them. He gazed at Gabe much as the other vamp had.

  Something was up, and Gabe wasn’t sure what, so he said nothing.

  Harvey brushed his fingers over Gabe’s shoulder with the insistent touch of a stranger taking liberties. “Would you like to come with me?” he asked without blinking once.

  Following Harvey’s lead, Gabe nodded and accompanied him outside.

  Harvey dragged Gabe down half the block to an alley. He made sure they were alone before turning to Gabe. “Are you all right?’

  “Yeah, sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Gabe didn’t get what the fuss was about, but Harvey seemed agitated.

  “That asshole was trying to charm you.”

  “I don’t know about charming. His pickup lines were a bit crude.”

  “No, I mean charm you. Like that creep we caught.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You mean you didn’t suddenly feel attracted to him?” Harvey asked, nonplussed.

  “I can’t say I did.”

  Harvey screwed up his brows. “Why did you follow me out?”

  “Because you asked me?”

  “Hold on.” Harvey leaned close to Gabe and glared at him like he had in the bar.

  “You look like a complete dork when you do that,” Gabe commented.

  Harvey stepped back, surprise spread over his face. “Fuckin’ A! You’re immune. Wow, that’s a load off my mind. I was worried about you—you’re vampire candy.”

  “I’m what?”

  “You smell…good.”

  “I used your shampoo. I ran out of mine.”

  “Not that, stupid. You smell good enough to eat.”

  “Oh. That’s nice to know. Wait, do I smell like a piece of bacon to you?” Gabe joked.

  “Shut up,” Harvey said, looking everywhere but at him. “I have news. Mike recognized Paul.”

  “Mike?”

  “The barman at the last place.”

  “Ah. Right. What did he say?” Gabe let Harvey change the subject—it made him a touch uneasy. He’d begun to suspect that Harvey might have hungered for him in the usual vampire ways as well, and was afraid to scrutinize his own feelings on the matter. Admitting he had a curiosity was hard enough. He couldn’t bear to think beyond it. Harvey must’ve had his own inner conflicts too. So they both had been steadfastly ignoring that big undead elephant in the room.

  Harvey counted on his fingers. “Two things: Paul was there the night he was murdered. He went out back with a vamp and returned alive. He left an hour later alone.”

  “Did he know who the vamp was?”

  “One of the regulars.” Harvey hesitated before going on. “Actually, someone I used to date.”

  Gabe was not amused. The idea of another one of Harvey’s lovers—like Gustav—running around in Chicago rubbed him the wrong way.

  “Before or after—”

  “After I was turned. I’d never been vamp food before then, as far as I can tell. Anyhow, Frank’s not the serial killer type.”

  “I still want to talk to him.”

  Harvey nodded. “I’ll arrange it.”

  “What’s the other thing?”

  “Huh?”

  “You said, two things.”

  “Oh yeah. The police had already been there, asking about Paul.”

  “They’d probably interviewed someone who’d known Paul and where he’d gone on the night of the murder.” The cops saved themselves quite a lot of legwork.

  “Probably. Mike told them Paul had been there and then left alone.”

  “Not about your ex?”

  “No, of course not.”

  That was one advantage they had over the police—vampires didn’t rat each other out to the cops.

  “We don’t know if Paul went straight home or to another bar,” Gabe commented.

  “You think we should keep checking?”

  “Might as well.”

  They went on as before, but Gabe began to pay closer attention to vampire presences around him. As much as he’d tried to limit his alcohol intake, by the time he sauntered into the last bar on their list, he was well lubricated, and not the sexy kind. Harvey had gone in ahead of him. Gabe could sense him but not see him. Other than Harvey, there wasn’t a single bloodsucker on the premises, so it was Gabe’s turn to investigate. He played the role of the chatty drunk, a guy from out of town who was happy to be back for the week. The bartender bore it with a plastic grin. No escape for the poor bastard.

  “Hey, Tim, another one, por favor.” Gabe waved his glass.

  “Jim,” the man said with resignation and mixed another gin and tonic.

  “You know, I had a friend here, good friend, before I moved to Fresno,” Gabe slurred. “I really hoped to see him, but he doesn’t live in the same place anymore.” He stared morosely into his glass; then he looked up, much brighter. “Maybe you saw him.”

  With fumbling fingers, he pulled the photo out of his wallet and waved it at the bartender, who gave it a dutiful look, then shook his head. Gabe saw no recognition in the man’s eyes either.

  “Sorry, pal, don’t know him.”

  “That’s okay, Tim.”

  Jim didn’t correct him.

  Gabe looked around. He still couldn’t see Harvey anywhere, although he sensed Harvey nearby.

  “Hey, man, you again!” Someone cheerfully slapped Gabe on the back.

  Gabe turned. It took him a second to place the guy. Joe, the drunken Russian, from Nightcrawler. Well, they were both drunk now.

  “George, right?” Joe asked and leaned on the bar.

  “Gabe,” Gabe corrected him. From the corner of his eye, he caught the bartender smirking.

  “Oh. Yes. Yes! Sorry. I’m Joe.”

  “Hello, Joe. Whatcha doin’ here?”

  “I try new places. This one is okay. The other place is better.”

  “Nightcrawler?”

  “Yeah, the worm bar. Not so expensive.”

  “Can I buy you a drink?”

  To Gabe’s surprise, Joe shook his head. “Must go.”

  Gabe watched as Joe unsteadily pushed himself off the bar. He would’ve made a good movie vampire—everything about him was black, even the hard candy he popped into his mouth. It gave Gabe the vague feeling he’d forgotten something.

  “I hope you’re not driving,” Gabe said.

  “I’m good,” Joe answered.

  Not quite the reassurance Gabe had hoped for, but Joe had already wobbled out the door. Gabe threw back his drink. The heat of it spread through him in a liquid wave.

  “What’s your sign, gorgeous, and don’t say stop, because I don’t think I can,” a lewd voice whispered into Gabe’s ear.

  Gabe stifled a snort and looked sideways. Harvey leered back at him. That was new. Harvey the lusty seducer, and Gabe the prey. A reversal of the roles they usually played, but what the heck. Gabe went along. “If you think you can take advantage of my inabbreviated…ineb…drunken state, mister, you’re absolutely right.”

  Chuckling, Harvey fell straight out of character. “C’mon, you big oaf. Time to go home.” He nudged Gabe off the b
arstool.

  “Where were you?” Gabe asked once they were outside. They had a few blocks to walk to the car.

  “In the little boys’ room, draining the snake. I told you, this stuff runs right through me. Waste of good booze.”

  “It was a long time to piss.”

  “Dill called. Silly boy got himself into a state again. I had to talk him down.”

  “You sure you weren’t having a snack?”

  “You know I don’t do that,” Harvey answered.

  Yes, Gabe knew that. He wasn’t sure why he’d said what he had. The booze loosened up his self-control, and bits of jealousy sneaked out. It didn’t help that this case was getting to him. Two young people who hadn’t hurt anyone had been killed, for no reason he could figure out.

  Harvey put an arm around Gabe. “Don’t worry, Angel, you’ll catch the creep.”

  “Now you’re a mind reader too?”

  “You had your face crunched up like one of those wrinkly dogs. I know you’re worried about the murders.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Gabe admitted.

  “You’ll figure it out.”

  “Your blind faith in me is misplaced.”

  “Well, I don’t have blind faith in your condition to drive. Hand them over.” With a gleeful look, Harvey held his open palm out for the car keys.

  “Damn.”

  Chapter Six

  Gabe wasn’t happy about Harvey’s ex being so…French. He’d assumed Frank Vadim would be like him or Gustav, based on Harvey’s self-confessed taste for rough men. Frank was anything but. Everything from his fine yet tasteful clothes, to his accent as he invited Gabe into his “study” oozed aloof sophistication.

  Frank offered coffee, and Gabe accepted, to have the chance to look around alone. Books—many of them recognizably old—lined three out of four walls, only the window side escaping their invasion. An artful clutter of papers and more books covered a desk in the corner. None of the furniture looked like it’d been made in the last half a century. When Frank returned, they settled into a couple of dark leather armchairs, next to a spindly-legged table.

  The coffee turned out to be espresso so strong it curled Gabe’s toes. He manfully suppressed a grimace and took a moment to study his host. Frank had a prominent nose, and the few silver strands in his otherwise deep black and close-cropped hair had frozen him in a permanent state of looking distinguished. Backed by the wall of books, he evoked the image of a college professor. Gabe felt an irrational loathing toward the man.