Until he started asking the hard questions.
"Is it true that two days ago Tanya Renauld said to you"—he flipped a couple of pages in his notebook—"that she would only be happy when you were dead?"
My stomach wadded up into a tiny ball and rattled around my body. I wondered who had snitched on me—Roxy? Christian? It had to be Roxy; I doubted the inspector had found Christian before he disappeared for the day. I frowned at that thought, wondering why Christian had remained silent through the night if he was innocent. Could he have been wounded somehow? Restrained by some means? In light of his innocence, his silence took on a new, more worrisome meaning.
"Um… maybe."
Inspector Bartos looked up from his notebook. "Maybe? Could you be more specific? Did she threaten you or not?"
My palms started sweating. "Well… yes, she did. But she was very angry—"
"Immediately upon threatening your life, did she throw a bucket of water on you?"
There was no use denying it; too many people had seen us. I gnawed on my lower lip and nodded.
"Was it your impression that she was serious in her threats to you?"
I hesitated. I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't see what good telling him that she was in deadly earnest would do anyone. "Although I didn't really know her, it was fairly obvious that Tanya was a very volatile person. She was also extremely irate over the fact that her boyfriend was using me to make her jealous—without my permission, as I've told you a couple of times. Given all that, I would say that at the moment she threw the water on me, she wouldn't have broken out into sobs if I had dropped down dead on the spot."
His moustache ruffled a little at that. I watched it, fascinated. It was as if the thing had a life of its own. He flipped through a few more pages. "Miss Renauld made statements that could be interpreted as threatening to you at other times, did she not?"
"She was pretty much angry nonstop with me, so it's no surprise she said nasty things." I leaned forward. "Look, Inspector, I don't know what you're driving at with all these questions about Tanya threatening me. She was killed, not me. She held a grudge against me, not vice versa. I was more than happy to go my own way and not have anything to do with her, and I certainly didn't bear her any ill will other than disliking being used as a pawn by her and Dominic."
"A woman has been murdered, Miss Randall," Bartos said neutrally, reminding me of Christian at his peacemaking best. "It is my duty to uncover all the unpleasantness surrounding her death whether or not you believe it has a bearing on the situation."
My spirits dropped to hang around my knees with the wadded-up ball of my stomach.
"If you would go over the events of the evening one more time, beginning with your conference with Miss Arielle Renauld here in this bar…"
I slumped in my chair. The day stretched before me in a perpetual loop of retelling the same thing over and over and over again.
An hour later I stumbled out of the bar, the inspector's rebuffs echoing in my ears.
"You are under a misimpression, Miss Randall. My role in this investigation is to gather information, not give it," he said in response to my question of whether or not Raphael was a suspect. Our interview was at an end, but I had figured there was no better opportunity to try and worm a few facts out about Raphael.
"I'm not asking you to tell me what he said to you, just whether or not he's on your list of suspects. I can't help but be worried, what with his history with the police…" I purposely let my sentence trail off in hopes he'd take the bait, but evidently he'd been hooked before.
"Mr. St. John did not inform me that you were acquainted with his past history with the police," he said, faint disapproval tingeing his voice.
I tried not to squirm under his gimlet eyes. "Raphael and I are very close, as I have told you. And we have discussed the situation, and the issue of his past." Truth—it was all the truth. Misleading, yes, intended to give a false impression that I knew everything, true, but still a form of the truth. "I'm sure it just escaped his mind to tell you that."
"I see. And what do you expect me to tell you?"
"That you don't consider him a likely suspect for killing Tanya."
Inspector Bartos just looked at me out of half-closed eyes.
"Oh, come on," I said in response to his silence. "Just because Raphael has a history involving… well, involving the police doesn't mean that you can pin this on him. He's no more likely to have killed Tanya than I am! If I'm not a suspect, there's no way you can rationally include Raphael on your list of supposed perpetrators."
He gave me one of his martyred looks. "Ah, but Miss Randall, when have I given the impression that you are not on that list?"
I stared at him open-mouthed, stunned that he could consider me capable of murder. He took advantage of my speechless state to escort me to the door of the bar, wishing me a good day.
I headed straight for the bench out front where I could sit and breath fresh air and enjoy not being questioned. Roxy, who had been interviewed and released before me, was chatting with a group of people getting ready to go on a bike ride.
I plopped down beside her with a, "Well! How do you like that! The good inspector thinks I murdered Tanya!"
Roxy shrugged and called out a goodbye as the bike riders pedaled off.
"What do mean by that shrug?" I demanded. "Do you mean you're not surprised that your best friend in the whole wide world is a murder suspect, or do you mean that it's all too silly for words, and thus you won't even try to express your contempt for a man who could say such patently false things?"
"We need to get you some Valium or something. You're going postal."
"I am not going postal, I've just been third degreed. Bartos all but brought out the rubber hose. I'm surprised he didn't flick a few lit matches on me, just to see if I'd sing."
Roxy chuckled and got to her feet, pulling me up after her. "You've got your sense of humor back. I'm glad to see you're not depressed over Tattoo Boy any longer. Come on, we have investigating to do. While you were in there having bamboo shoved under your fingernails, I've been busy working."
"Working how?" I asked as we headed toward the meadow and the fair.
"Talking to everyone from the fair who came in to report to the police. Hurry up, we have an appointment with your favorite vampire, and we're already late."
"Christian?" I looked up. The sun, hazy behind high clouds, was midway through the sky. "Roxy, even if we knew where he was, you know he's not awake now."
"Not Christian. Dominic."
"Ugh. He's hardly my favorite vampire. He's not even real." A fact I suddenly appreciated, especially when the image of Tanya's torn throat came to mind. I wondered what Bartos made of that wound. I wondered if he believed in Dark Ones.
"Yes, well, he's about to become your favorite vampire. I told him you wanted a little information from him, and were willing to exchange your favors for it."
"ROXY!" I stopped dead at the edge of the parking lot. "I will NOT sleep with fang face!"
"Did I say you had to? I did not! I said favors, such as reading rune stones."
"What? Again? I did it last night to help out in a pinch, but—"
"If you want the dirt on Raphael, you're going to have to pay with a little of your time. So make up your mind. Which do you want more—a couple of free hours during the evening, or the scoop on what Raphael's hiding?"
I kicked at a rock imbedded in the soft soil. To be honest, I was feeling a bit unhappy over the whole idea of sneaking behind Raphael's back to find out what he was hiding from me. The sane voice in my head pointed out that violating his trust was not the way to demonstrate my love for him. If he wanted you to know, the self-righteous voice intoned, he'd tell you.
I seldom listen to that voice. I much prefer the one that snorted indignantly at the idea of sitting around passively and waiting for Raphael to come to his senses. Make him see how much he needs you, that voice said. Show him you are more than just a convenie
nt casing to park his piston.
"OK, I'll do another stint at the rune table, but just for tonight."
Roxy whapped me on the arm and started down the slope to the meadow floor. "Tonight's the big festival, remember? There is no more fair after tonight."
I followed her slowly. How could I forget? Tonight hundreds of fans would converge on the grounds of Christian's castle, drink, eat, dance, and listen to loud music all the while celebrating the cult of the vampire. Meanwhile, the head vampire, the real one, hadn't been seen or heard from and was up to who knew what. I hoped he was tucked away safely wherever it was he slept.
I finally turned my attention to the question I'd asked earlier. If Christian hadn't murdered Tanya, who did? Dominic? Creepy Milos? Arielle? Raphael? Roxy? Me?
I shook the phantoms from my head and picked up the pace, quickly overtaking Roxy. Today was shaping up to be a pretty hellish nightmare of a day. I might as well get as much of it over with as possible.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
« ^ »
If I thought my day was a nightmare, that was because I hadn't seen the inside of Dominic's trailer.
"Good God, it's like a really bad parody of a Dark Shadows set," I murmured to Roxy as I stepped around a tall standing lamp with a shade made out of metal bats caught in the act of flight. Dominic had blocked up all the windows, so the only light came from the weird lamps he had scattered around the trailer.
"I think it's fascinating, in a gruesome mangled-car-accident sort of way," Roxy replied. I stared at a painting hanging on a divider wall. It looked like one of those sixties gothic covers with a woman in a transparent nightgown racing away from a gloomy old mansion, only in this picture the woman was naked and was being followed by a somewhat effeminate-looking vampire in full Bela Lugosi rig.
"I see you admire my painting." Dominic appeared at my side, taking the head-tipped-to-the-side-considering-artpose. "I painted it myself, naturally."
"Oh. Did you?" I reminded myself that I wanted something from him, and thus to inquire how many other paint-by-numbers paintings he had done was not a good idea. "It's very… unique."
"Yes," he said, baring his fangs at me.
"Um… you have a piece of something…" I tapped the front of my teeth.
Dominic looked all too human for a moment as embarrassment flickered over his face. He dashed into his bedroom area.
"Dark Ones do not eat broccoli," Roxy muttered before turning her attention to what looked like a little altar made up of cheap-looking black and red candles.
"Looks like he's been shopping at Vampyrs 'R' Us," I whispered.
She giggled just as Dominic reappeared with a food-particle-free leer. "Mon ange, if you will sit just there, and Roxsee will sit there, and I will sit here, yes! Now we are all very comfortable, eh?"
"Sure thing," I said to his earlobe approximately three centimeters away from my mouth. "I just love being held squashed up against someone like I'm a mustard plaster or something." I paused and sniffed delicately, then recoiled as much as I could with him holding me clamped to his side. My eyes started watering with the effort it took not to sneeze. "What on earth are you wearing?"
A muscle twitched in his eyelid. "For you, I am wearing the Marcheur du Nuit cologne. I have created it myself. I am thinking of selling it. It is very fragrant, is it not so?"
"Potent is the word that comes to mind," I muttered, rubbing my nose. "If you don't mind, Dominic, I'm really busy today, and I know you must be busy getting ready for the festival, so if we could get to the discussion that Roxy mentioned, I'd be grateful."
"Mon ange weeps with pleasure?" he asked, flicking a fingertip across a path a tear had taken. I jerked my head back.
"No. I'm allergic to perfumes and colognes. Makes my… my…" I turned my head so he wasn't in the line of sight and sneezed into my shoulder."… nose itch. Sorry. Hope I didn't get any on your hand."
He withdrew his arm from where it had been wrapped around my shoulders and covertly wiped the sneeze off his hand while I discreetly blew my nose into the tissue Roxy handed me.
"So, about Raphael—"
"Mon ange, ma belle, always you are in such a hurry! I have so little time with you, can we not enjoy what we have together?"
I looked him dead in the eye, sniffing and mopping back tears. "No," I said, sounding like I had a pair of socks stuffed up my nose. "We cannot. Raphael?"
He sighed a dramatic, put-upon sigh and tapped his long fingers on his chin for a minute while I sneezed three more times.
"I'm sorry," I said, waving my hand at Roxy. She stood up and traded places with me. "No offense, Dominic, but I'll be sneezing my eyes out if I sit next to you any longer."
"She can do it, too," Roxy said, her nose wrinkling as his musky cologne hit her. "She once sneezed fourteen times in a row. Wet her pants doing it."
"ROXY!"
"She was only ten at the time," Roxy added, as if that made it better.
"If, for the fourth time, we could get to the subject at hand, namely Raphael's history…" I raised an eyebrow at Dominic. He looked peeved.
"And if I do this great thing you want of me, mon ange, what will you grant me in return?"
I glanced at Roxy. She was staring in horror at the painting. "Roxy said you needed help reading runes tonight. I would be happy to do another session for you."
"Your assistance would be most welcome to me," he nodded, his eyes hooded, but not so hooded I didn't notice the calculating gleam in them. If I had anything more than a little spending money, I'd offer to bribe the info out of him, feeling sure that monetary gain held more sway with him than my own dubious charms. "But this thing you ask of me, it is personal. You ask me to betray Raphael."
I frowned. I didn't like hearing my feelings put into words, especially not words that came out of his fake-fanged mouth. Idly I wondered what Christian did with his fangs when they weren't in use.
"Such a personal sacrifice demands a much more intime gesture, do you not think?"
I stopped picturing collapsible canine teeth and glared at Dominic. "No sex."
"Mon ange," he said, his hands fluttering gracefully. "You stir my blood with your too vehement protestations. But no, it is not to the danse sur le coucher that I refer."
Roxy snorted.
"Good, because it isn't going to happen. What exactly do you want, in addition to me reading runes tonight?"
He smiled, the calculating light growing in his eyes. He steepled his fingers together and made a little pout over them. "Tonight, as you have mentioned, is the Festival of All Hallow's Eve. In celebration of this night most dear to all who live in darkness, we have arranged the Punkevní Cave to be open to those attending the festival."
"That sounds like a good idea," I admitted, wondering what the catch was. Maybe he wanted me to collect ticket money, or help out working the festival.
"We went on that tour a couple of days ago," Roxy added. "It was a bit damp and smelly, but fun. Although Joy barfed up her lunch at the end."
I would have stopped her, but I figured the less attractive picture of me Dominic had, the better. "I get seasick easily," I said.
He looked momentarily disconcerted; then another of his smug smiles slid across his face. "You will not suffer from mal de mer with me, mon ange. I will see to it that you are otherwise occupied during our boat ride."
"Our boat ride?" I asked suspiciously. "You want me to go on the tour with you? That's all?"
"That is all," he said, spreading his hands wide.
I tried to find something objectionable about what he wanted, but couldn't. I gave in as gracefully as I could. "All right. I'll read the runes and go on the boat tour through Punkevní Cave with you tonight, but that's it. We'll be even then, right?"
He smiled and touched his fingers to his lips.
Roxy glanced at her watch. "Thank God the negotiating is over. Now you can dish with the dirt on Raphael and we can be on our way."
; I looked at Dominic. He leaned back, toying with the ruffles on his poet's shirt. "There is not much to dish, I am afraid. I employed Raphael in Marseilles, where he had just been released from prison for the rape and killing of a prostitute."
My jaw hit my knees. "He what?"
Dominic made a moue and tsked. "It is true. He forced himself on a woman of the streets, harming her here"—he waved at his midsection—"inside. She was sent to hospital, and later died."
Roxy stared at me, true horror in her eyes. I blinked at her, then looked back to Dominic. "Raphael? My Raphael? I just don't believe it."
"Believe it, mon ange."
I shook my head. "No. Not him. I know him. He would never force himself on a woman. It must have been a mistake. He must have been falsely convicted."
"I myself have seen his papers, Joie. You see now why I sought to protect you from him. The man you have chosen as your lover is a criminal—one who does not care for the women he uses for his perversions. Because he had survived repeated assaults in prison, I knew he had brutality and ruthlessness, both skills which would help him to keep others safe. That is why I hired him to attend to our security. The police forced me to do so with their accusations. They came to us and said, 'You have been here, here, and here, and that is near where women were murdered, so we must detain you.' Bah! They did not find anything to connect us to the so tragic killings. It was all just a screen of smoke they create. But me, I have the alibis most unbreakable, and they must go away without me." He sat back and looked terribly smug.
"Do you mean to say that the police thought you had killed someone?" Roxy asked, scooting just a bit away from him.
"They called them the Vampire Murders, yes? And I," he said with an affected little flip of his hand, "am le grand Vampyr. It follows that they must suspect me."
A Girls Guide to Vampires Page 27