The Book of Death (16 page)

‘Yeah, well,’ he said
straightening his sunglasses. ‘While I’ve been nursing you out of a coma for
the last few months I haven’t had time for anyone else.’

‘That’s too bad.’

‘I’ll tell you what else is too
bad. Did you know that your old boyfriend Jefe got shot in the face during the
eclipse last year?’

‘Oh, did he?’

‘Yeah, he must be gutted.’

‘He can’t be gutted if he’s
dead.’

‘I would be.’

‘Whatever.’

 
Jessica didn’t seem too bothered about
Jefe’s death
. That’s what being in a coma for months will do to you
,
thought Sanchez. This was most definitely an opportunity to put forward his own
case. ‘So, I guess with Jefe dead, it means you’re single too? Maybe we should
go out on a date?’

 
Jessica stared out of her passenger side
window. ‘Can we talk about something else?’ she said.

‘If you like.’

Sanchez hit the brakes as they
approached a red light. The car skidded a few times before eventually stopping
just before the lights. He looked over at Jessica. She was still staring out of
the window at the snow. ‘I wonder what this crime scene will look like when we
get there,’ he mused.

‘Bloody, probably,’ said
Jessica. ‘If it really is the Silvinho that I know then it’ll be messy. He’s no
fool. Not many people in this town could have killed him.’

The traffic lights turned green and
Sanchez pulled away, driving with a little more care this time. ‘So how do you
know this Silvinho guy anyway?’ he asked. ‘And who would want to kill him?’

‘The Bourbon Kid.’

‘You think?’

‘Yeah,’ Jessica pointed at the
road up ahead. ‘We’re nearly there. I can see an ambulance parked outside that
building. That must be it.’

Sanchez looked to where Jessica
was pointing. Sure enough, a hundred yards down the road was an ambulance with
its blue lights flashing. There was a crowd of people on the street outside the
building, even though it was snowing outside.

‘Where the hell am I gonna
park?’ Sanchez muttered aloud, looking for a space.

‘Over there,’ said Jessica
pointing at a space on the opposite side of the road to the ambulance.

‘Good spot,’ said Sanchez.
‘Right outside the Dirty Donut shop too.’

He pulled the car over and in
spite of the front wheel riding up onto the sidewalk briefly, he slipped it
into the space just fine.

Jessica was quick to open the
passenger side door. ‘Why don’t you grab us some donuts?’ she suggested as she
climbed out. ‘I’ll head up to this Beth Lansbury’s apartment and make sure the
coast is clear. You might spot the killer escaping while you’re buying the
donuts.’

‘Great idea,’ said Sanchez,
pleased that she had made the suggestion. ‘Any particular donut you’d like?’

‘Surprise me.’

Sanchez climbed out of the car,
grateful to be wearing his new Stetson hat, which did a great job of sheltering
him from the snow, which was at last showing signs of easing up. By the time
he’d stepped onto the sidewalk, Jessica had vanished. She obviously didn’t feel
like hanging around outside in the cold weather.

The ambulance outside Remington
Tower had quite a crowd around it, yet the medics themselves were nowhere to be
seen. There was another police squad car parked further down the road too,
which was a relief. It would mean Sanchez wasn’t the first officer on the scene
and therefore the potential for fucking up a crime scene was limited. Anyhow,
more importantly, he had to work out how many donuts he could afford.

The guy in the donut shop looked
like he enjoyed a cake or two himself. And a lot of beer and pizza too. He was
a short, rotund fellow with a curly brown mullet haircut. His stained white
DIRTY DONUTS T-shirt fitted so tightly to his curves it looked as if it had
been tattooed on. Clearly this guy was eating the profits.

‘Got any special offers on?’
Sanchez asked as he approached the counter.

‘I recommend the Fat Boy Pick
and Mix,’ the man suggested.

‘What’s that then?’

‘A box of ten donuts of your
choice. Only five bucks.’

‘That sounds like donut heaven.
I’ll take one.’

Sanchez spent five minutes or so
deciding which donuts to have. The variety on offer was extremely impressive.
So much so that he bought two boxes, one to take up to the crime scene and
another to stick on the back seat of the squad car for later.

By the time he’d stored the
spare box on the back seat and crossed the road to head towards the crowd of
onlookers stood outside Remington Tower, it had stopped snowing. Jessica hadn’t
come back down, and no dead body had been carried out by any medics either.

‘Step aside please. Officer
coming through,’ he said pulling his nightstick out with his free hand and
prodding people with it as he made his way through the crowd and up to the
front of the building. The door at the entrance was slightly ajar. To avoid
crushing any of his donuts he backed into it and forced it open with his ass
cheeks.

Once inside, he kicked the door
shut behind him to stop anyone else from getting in. The corridor wasn’t much
warmer than the cold wind outside. “
What a shitty apartment block this is!”
he thought. He slid his nightstick back into its holster on his belt and opened
the box of donuts. He pulled out a pink iced ring and took a large bite. It was
as tasty as it looked. Next decision, stairs or elevator? He remembered the
stink in the elevator at the station and decided the stairs would be a better
option. Plus the stairs would take longer and he’d be able to eat at least two
more donuts by the time he made it to the fourth floor. Maybe three more.

When he eventually made it to
the fourth floor he was met by an eerie silence. If this was the floor on which
the murder had taken place, then why was it so quiet? It ought to be buzzing
with onlookers, ambulance crew and cops. He stepped off the staircase and into
a long hallway. At the end of the hall he could see the crime scene. The dead
body of a guy with pink hair was slumped against the wall. Even from where
Sanchez was he could see that the guy was a mess. There was an awful lot of
blood on the floor and over the wall behind him. Sanchez shoved the rest of his
third donut into his mouth, then pulled his nightstick back from its sheath,
ready for action.

He edged slowly down the hallway
towards the apartment at the end. The walls of the corridor reminded him of the
walls in the Tapioca after a typical visit from the Bourbon Kid. They were
covered in blood and stank of death. Aside from his own footsteps, the eerie
quiet remained. Where the hell was Jessica? Or Mental Beth? He could see the
door to Beth’s apartment was slightly ajar, but no sounds were coming from
within. He edged ever closer, wondering exactly what he would find inside

With his back against the wall
he sidled up to the doorway and peered through the gap. He couldn’t see
anything of interest, but he was really wishing he had a gun instead of a
stick. He poked a leg out and kicked at the door. It creaked as it opened
slightly. Nothing seemed to have been disturbed so he kicked the door again, a
little harder this time, keeping his distance, just in case. It opened fully
this time. He counted to three in his head then peered around the door into the
apartment, with his nightstick drawn and ready for action.

His eyes darted around at the
sight in the apartment before him. Nothing was moving so he lowered his
nightstick and stepped inside.

His jaw dropped open as he saw
the carnage in front of him.

This was a bloodbath.

Nineteen

The Santa Mondega International
Hotel looked as impressive as ever, which was quite a feat considering Peto the
Hubal monk had been beheaded in the lobby the night before. And of course,
Dante had shot Robert Swann in the head at the foot of the steps out front. Add
to that the small matter of Kacy shooting Agent Roxanne Valdez in the face in
one of the upstairs corridors and it had to be said that the place was in
remarkable shape. Any new visitors would be none the wiser about what had gone
on there in the last twenty-four hours.

The lobby was a tad quieter than
usual, but so were most places in Santa Mondega, simply because the population
had dropped considerably overnight.

Dante strolled up to the
reception desk with Kacy following on behind. He recognised Benito the
receptionist. Benito was wearing the shitty pink porter outfit that Dante
himself had once had to wear during his time as an employee there.

‘Mornin’, Benny,’ Dante said
brightly. ‘Lost my room key, can you give me another please?’

Benito looked reasonably pleased
to see him. The two of them had gotten on well enough in the past. ‘It’ll cost
twenty dollars for a replacement,’ he said apologetically.

‘That’s okay. Just bill it to
the room.’

‘Sure thing.’

Benito tapped a few keys on a
keyboard on his desk and then grabbed a keycard from a drawer by his right leg.
He tossed it over the counter to Dante.

‘Try not to lose that one,’ he
said. ‘The fine goes up to thirty dollars next time.’

‘Thanks.’

When Dante turned around Kacy
was already heading for the stairs. ‘Don’t you wanna take the elevator?’ he
called after her.

‘No. Do you?’

He pondered the idea for a
second. Elevators were bad news in Santa Mondega. ‘Nope,’ he said. ‘I’m right
behind ya.’

As he followed her up the
stairs, admiring her ass for most of the way, Dante wondered what they might
find in their hotel room. Would it be as they left it? Would the cops be there
investigating the deaths of Robert Swann and Roxanne Valdez? Were there even
enough cops left alive to investigate anyway? His name was on all the bills and
there was only supposed to be him and Kacy staying in the suite, so as things
stood, there was no reason why anyone would be checking the place for evidence.
When they arrived at their suite he was pleased to see that nothing much had
changed other than the beds had been made by one of the hotel chambermaids.

‘Pack only the stuff you really
need,’ he told Kacy, recognising that she would not want to discard too many of
the clothes from her wardrobe.

Naturally she pretty much
ignored him and set about filling a large suitcase with clothes. She had the
case laid out on the bed and was rifling through a chest of drawers. And she
seemed to be packing everything. Dante on the other hand was happy to fill a
smaller suitcase with just a couple of pairs of boxers, two pairs of jeans and
a few T-shirts.

‘Remember you won’t need
anything woolly,’ he pointed out as Kacy picked a brown fleece out of the
drawers. ‘We won’t be feeling the cold much these days.’

Kacy hesitated a moment, but
then folded the fleece and slipped it into her suitcase. ‘If we become human
again, we’ll need all the warm clothes we can get our hands on,’ she said.
‘What with all the snow and everything.’

Damn! She had a point. Dante
turned back to a chest of drawers with some of his warmer clothes in and
started rummaging through them. ‘You know, Kace,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I think
you’re even smarter than I am.’

‘
Sometimes?’

‘Yeah. This is one of those
times.’

‘Are you kidding? You couldn’t
tie your fucking shoelaces without me.’

‘I don’t wear laces.’

‘And I know why.’

‘Fine. If you’re so clever, then
how come it’s
me
that has to come up with a plan for how we’re gonna get
the Eye of the Moon out of that guy’s head?’

‘Because you got us into this
fucking mess!’

‘So?’

Kacy exhaled noisily. ‘Maybe
Vanity will have some ideas?’

‘We can’t ask him.’

‘You can’t, but I could.’

‘How?’

‘I can turn on the charm with
him a bit.’

‘Turn on the charm? How so
exactly?’ Dante asked, more than a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.

 
‘Not like that. I just mean, he must know
stuff about Gaius. Maybe if I act a bit ditzy I can quiz him a bit? I might
find out something useful.’

‘Useful? Like what?’

‘Like maybe Gaius has a dog he
takes for walks on his own.’

‘A dog?’

‘Hey, I’m just spitballing here.
If we have any chance of stealing that Eye, it’ll be when Gaius is on his own,
or even better, when he’s asleep.’

Dante sneered. ‘That is lame.’

‘Fuck off,’ said Kacy, playfully
throwing a pair of rolled up socks at him. ‘I’m just trying to think of some
scenarios.’

‘I know, babe. I’m just
kidding.’

He zipped up his own suitcase,
comfortable that he had packed enough stuff. Out of the corner of his eye he
spotted something in one of the open drawers that contained the clothes of the
now deceased Robert Swann. It was a bottle of clear liquid and a syringe. He
recognised them immediately. It was the bottle containing the serum that had
lowered his body temperature sufficiently enough to walk undetected among the
vampires before he had actually become one. The syringe had been used to
administer the injections of the serum.