Dark Moonlighting (18 page)

“Well, there goes our security deposit,” I
said to Oliver XLVIII.

I turned away from the puddle of urine and
was hit with a wave of anxiety as I inspected the woman’s corpse.
The bodies had really started to pile up over the last few days.
The Hispanic boy I had run down with my car had been accidental,
but I scolded myself for the other two. Of course, I could hardly
blame myself for the latest victim. She had clearly been asking for
it. Still, I knew my wave of impulsive murders had to stop. They
were an unnecessary risk, no matter how enjoyable or justified they
were.

The big meal had only added to my sleepiness,
and all I wanted to do was crawl into my bed. Unfortunately, I knew
I had to clean up the mess in my apartment while it was still dark.
I grabbed a roll of paper tolls and a bottle of
Febreze
from
the kitchen in order to tackle the urine puddle in my living room.
After that, I ran upstairs to put some clothes on and grabbed some
garbage bags from the garage. I put one over the head of the
woman’s body and one bag over her feet. Part of her midsection was
still showing, but it was good enough for my purposes. I picked the
body up by the torso and banged it against the wall several times
as I maneuvered it through my kitchen. I dumped it carelessly into
the trunk of my car on top of a dirt-encrusted shovel. It would not
be the first time that I had to dispose of a corpse in a field. In
fact, I was not at all worried about dumping the body. I knew all
of the best out of the way places in Starside to dump human
remains. In addition, I also had plenty of time before the sun came
up.

I was starting to feel pretty good about the
brutal murder as I pulled out of my garage. As I started down the
road for my trip to a deserted field, I suddenly got an uneasy
feeling in my stomach. It was not until I was halfway to the
dumping ground that I realized what had triggered the response.
Distracted by my gruesome task, I had not realized when I drove by
that Anthony’s car had still been in his driveway when I left my
apartment.

Chapter Nine: Illegally Blond

Oh sweet ecstasy. All of my problems melted
away as I laid on top of Christina. Nothing else in the world
mattered except for the pleasure of the moment. I rubbed my hand
over the tender skin of her neck before leaning in for a passionate
kiss. While she was certainly not my first choice, she was an
acceptable substitute. All my cares were lost in a sea of pleasure…
and then they were back.

I gave Christina an obligatory peck on the
lips before I rolled off of her with a grunt. I wiped the sweat
from my brow and breathed heavily as I moved to my side of the bed.
The fear about what I had done over the last few days returned and
washed over me in waves. I wondered if Christina knew how I felt at
that moment. I guessed that she did not, but I was sure Lara would
have understood if she had been the one sharing my bed. It was,
after all, just basic human physiology. A spike of a hormone called
prolactin that suppressed the dopamine that had recently been
flooding my brain. In medical terms it was called the sexual
refractory period. A twenty minute window where I did not care
about sex despite the fact that there was an attractive, naked
woman in my bed. I always experienced a similar hormone drop after
a kill. The difference was that after a murder I was left alone to
sleep. Plus, since my partner in the latter activity was dead, I
was not forced to entertain anyone.

I decided that Christina did not, in fact,
understand how I felt a moment later when she rolled over and
pressed up against me. Her sweaty skin, which I had thoroughly
enjoyed a few minutes earlier, now felt slimy and unpleasantly hot.
I cursed biology for making her feel happy and cuddly while all I
felt was sleepiness. I unenthusiastically stroked her back for a
few minutes until I felt that I had given her an acceptable amount
of attention. As subtlety as I could, I started gradually scooting
away from her until half of my ass was hanging off of the bed. She
did not seem to notice, and continued to wrap herself around me for
another five minutes.

“I’m going to get one of those popsicles I
brought over,” she said suddenly before launching herself out of
bed. “Do you want anything?”

“No,” I responded with my eyes closed.

“You sure?” she asked. “I’m getting up so
it’s no trouble.”

“I’m fine,” I assured her.

I opened my eyes and caught a glimpse of her
naked back as she left my bedroom and headed downstairs to the
kitchen. I let out a sigh of happiness for the brief minute I would
have to myself. I opened the drawer to my nightstand and pulled
three objects out that I had found to be useful Christina
repellents. The ashtray felt cold and soothing as I set it on my
bare chest. I grimaced as I used the lighter to ignite one of the
cigarettes I retrieved from the pack. The cough I let out as I
inhaled the smoke was loud, and I tried desperately to stifle it so
that Christina would not hear me. I did not care for the taste of
cigarettes, and the virus which permeated every cell of my body was
quick to filter out the pleasing affects of nicotine. Through an
unscientific study, I had found that the disgusting activity
shortened the length of Christina’s visits by an average of thirty
minutes. This fact was enough of a reason to suffer the unpleasant
taste and smell of smoking. Besides, it was hardly like the habit
was going to kill me.

My second choice wrinkled her nose as she
reentered the room but did not comment on the smell. She flopped
into bed next to me and happily started to suck on the Popsicle she
had retrieved from my freezer. Ten minutes later, I would have
found her activity to be quite alluring. Having not yet recovered,
I merely worried that she would stain my sheets with the sticky
treat. I grabbed the remote control from the top of my nightstand
and turned on the small television which sat against the opposite
wall of my bedroom.

“… have noticed a sharp decline in the number
of spam e-mails received in the last few months,” the Channel 5
reporter read as the television came to life. “Experts attribute
the phenomenon to…”

“You ever wonder when purple became a flavor
instead of a color?” Christina asked as she inspected the remnants
of her Popsicle.

“Keeps me up at night,” I answered
sarcastically.

“Everyone just accepts it as normal, but
there has to have been a transitional period,” she continued,
immune to my tone of voice. “When I was heading downstairs I wasn’t
thinking that I wanted a grape Popsicle. I just accepted
unconsciously that I wanted one that tasted purple. Isn’t it
fascinating how a society can just gradually accept words like
that?”

I often heard people in the twenty-first
century complain that the works of William Shakespeare were too
difficult to understand. They accepted that he wrote in English,
but the language had changed so much since his time that it was
almost like a foreign language. I was born over two centuries
before The Bard first put pen to paper. I had watched the English
language change over and over again, and I had forced my own speech
to match it. It was a fascinating subject to me. However, I had no
interest in engaging Christina in further conversation.

“So, you starting on your case prep today?” I
questioned, hoping she would accept that she had work to do and
leave. I knew even as I asked that she would not. My lover had
great difficulty with subtle hints.

Christina nodded her head as she stared at
the television. “I’m not looking forward to it. It’s not nearly as
interesting as all of the murder trials you and the rest of the
firm get to handle. Speaking of which, Mr. Hass wanted me to tell
you to answer your goddamn phone.”

“He told you that?” I asked curiously.

“Yup, I was surprised to hear him curse.
Usually he’s so pleasant. He said that if I found a rare moment
when you didn’t have a use for my mouth that I should pass the
message along.”

“He said that?” I asked rhetorically.

I was not at all concerned with the insult
Caleb Hass had delivered to Christina. The problem was that he had
figured out that we were lovers. He was surely not pleased that I
was sleeping with the young lawyer. After numerous sexual
harassment complaints against the senior partner, Hass had
instituted a policy against fraternization amongst members of the
firm. My violation of the rule was a minor infraction, but I was
sure he was angry that I had been the one to bed the latest chesty
addition to the organization.

“Yup,” Christina answered unnecessarily.
“Seemed like a strange way to word it. I didn’t really understand
what he meant by that. He also referred to you as a deformed freak
though, which did seem pretty mean.”

“Screw him,” I answered as I flicked the
cigarette over the ashtray on my chest. “I told him I was going to
take some time off after the Norton case was over. I’m sure he just
has another client he wants to unload on me. That’s why I’ve been
ignoring his phone calls.”

Christina giggled at a bad pun that the
reporter on the television made. “Actually, I think he just wanted
to ask your advice about a case he’s taking to trial. He said—”

“Caleb is working an actual case?” I
interrupted. It was rare that the senior partner lowered himself to
sitting in a courtroom, and I knew it only happened for
particularly exciting clients.

“You didn’t hear?” she questioned. “It’s for
that rich software designer who murdered his wife. Allegedly,” she
added like a good defense attorney. “Mr. Hass has been stalling the
case for over a year. It’s just now finally going to trial.”

“I vaguely remember hearing about the
murder,” I said. “But I didn’t know Caleb was handling it
personally. The killer is rich, but he’s hardly famous. Caleb only
takes cases that he knows will get his name in the paper.”

“The media will pick the story up once they
hear what his defense is,” Christina said confidently. “I can’t
believe Mr. Hass is trying for it, or that Judge Yoest would allow
it. What jury is going to be stupid enough to believe that a
creature of the night broke into the guy’s home and killed his
wife?”

My whole body tensed up. I turned my head
slowly and stared at Christina in disbelief. My trembling hand
forced a bit of ash off the cigarette I was holding. A hot ember
landed near my nipple, and the slight pain shook me back to
reality.

“Creature of the night?” I asked as my voice
cracked. I coughed deliberately and stubbed out the cigarette in
the ashtray. “Why would… do you know why Caleb wanted my advice for
the trial?”

Christina gave no indication that she had
noticed my sudden concern. “The alleged murderer is claiming that
his babysitter was the one who killed his wife. He said he found
her sucking the blood out of his wife’s neck. Can you believe that?
It’s absolute garbage. Mr. Hass said the husband was too crazy to
stand trial, but the psychologists cleared him. Now Hass is trying
to make the babysitter look like the murderer, but I can’t see how
the jury is going to accept vampirism as a motive.”

“And he wants to talk about the case with me
because…?” I prodded, annoyed that she had not answered my
question.

“Oh, because the babysitter is an albino like
you,” she stated. “Weird that two people in the same town would
have such a rare condition, huh? I think Mr. Hass wants to know if
you have any inside information. Some special insight about albinos
that will help him today when she’s on the stand.”

I jerked the ashtray off my chest and set it
on my nightstand, ignoring all the ash that fell onto my bedspread
because of the quick motion. I wiped some of the remnants of the
cigarette off of my chest as I leapt out of bed.

“An albino woman that Caleb’s client claims
is a vampire is taking the stand today?” I almost screamed at her.
I continued after receiving a puzzled nod from my lover. “What
color was her hair?”

“Her hair?” she questioned. “I have no idea.
I’m not sitting in on the trial, I’ve just heard about it.”

“How old is the babysitter?” I asked
desperately. “Is she a little girl? A teenager?”

“No, older,” Christina answered. “Early
twenties, I think.”

“I gotta go,” I said abruptly as I retrieved
the previous night’s pair of boxer shorts and hastily pulled them
up. “You need to… actually you can stay. Take your time, let
yourself out. I’ve got to get down to the courthouse.”

I dressed frantically, unconcerned with what
it must have looked like to Christina. I checked the time as I
fiddled to put on my wristwatch. It was too late for a shower. In
fact, I would be lucky to make it to the courthouse before the
trial was set to resume that morning.

“Hey, Nick,” Christina called from bed as I
headed towards the bedroom door. “You might want to schedule a vet
appointment for Oliver. It smells like pee in your living
room.”

I grunted at her instead of responding. I ran
downstairs to my garage, leaving Christina in my bedroom to wonder
what tidbit I knew about albinos that could be so important to the
case.

I reached the courthouse’s underground
parking garage with about ten minutes to spare. I sniffed my
armpits, hastily fastened my tie, took a deep breath and told
myself to relax. This was, of course, impossible given the
circumstances. My anxiety only increased a minute later as I was
walking down the hallway towards the appropriate courtroom. Three
uncovered windows blocked my path. I looked around frantically in
search of enough shade to slip past the sunlit hallway. The angle
of the sun hitting the windows made that idea impossible. If it had
only been one open window I might have tried to tough it out and
leap through the sunny spot. However, three uncovered windows would
have caused significant pain and temporarily damaged my skin. I
pulled my suit coat off and threw it over my head. It would not
block all the sunlight from hitting me, but I needed to get into
the courtroom before the trial resumed and I was out of options. I
was still awkwardly positioning myself under the coat when my
salvation arrived.