La Vida Vampire (11 page)

“I didn’t.”

She gave me the laser eye. “My job during the interview is to protect your rights. If I tell you not to answer a question, don’t.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I said and nearly saluted. If Maggie was a warrior, Sandy was a drill sergeant. The metal door to the sheriff’s inner sanctum hissed open, and Detective March stood in the threshold, his brown suit looking more rumpled than it had this morning.

“Good of you to finally get here,” he said to me.

“Most vampires aren’t up yet, Detective.”

“Most don’t surf after sunrise and find bodies, either.”

I smiled. “Touché.”

“Ms. Krause,” he greeted Sandy.

“Detective. I’ve only just met my client. May I have a few minutes in private with her before we begin the interview?”

March jerked his head toward the corridor I could see stretching behind him. “We’ll walk to the investigations building. Ten minutes is all I can give you to confer. My wife will shoot me if I’m any later than I’m already gonna be.”

Sandy nodded, and we followed March through a maze of hallways, finally reaching a room with eight desks neatly partitioned with low movable walls. Closed doors to what I guessed were offices or conference rooms lined the perimeter of the large space.

March opened the door to a room not much bigger than a coat closet. An old metal card table with a scarred top crowded against a gray wall. Three institutional and uncomfortable-looking metal chairs sat neatly around it.

“Ten minutes, Ms. Krause.”

She nodded, told me to sit, and pulled a yellow legal pad from her briefcase.

“All right. Maggie and Neil told me what they know, but that’s secondhand information, and the cops have had all day to interview witnesses. Tell me what happened this morning.”

I did, recounting everything as closely as I could remember it.

“That tallies with Neil’s account. Now tell me about the tours on Monday and Tuesday. The trouble you had with the Covenant guy.”

I hit the highlights of Stony ’s threats, first to me, then to Yolette, and tried not to blush again over Yolette ’s pass at me while we were at Scarlett’s.

“So this Stony physically attacked you. Did he hurt you?”

“My right arm was sore for a while. I think he pinched the GPS tracker under my skin.”

“Any bruising?”

I shrugged apologetically. “I didn’t pay attention, and I heal quickly.”

“What about Tuesday?”

“Stony was back, but there was no trouble, just tension.” I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing everyone. “Stony stayed in the back of the group. The victim, Yolette, followed the writers, who were right behind me.”

“Etienne wasn’t there?”

“He was, but he and Yolette seemed to have had a tiff. He walked with the older ladies.”

“Did the victim and her husband leave together?”

“More or less. Etienne kissed my hand, and Yolette stalked off. He followed her.”

“And? What did the others do?”

“Stony followed the couple, and Gomer followed him, then came back and walked me home.”

“Maggie mentioned this guy. Gomer had a gun, right?”

“Plain as day, but his name is Holland Peters. I just called him Gomer.”

“He show you an ID?

“No.”

“Then Gomer will do for now. Where were you on Wednesday?”

“I slept during the day and played bridge that night.”

“What about later? Maggie said you might have gone out after midnight.”

“I rode my bicycle from about one thirty to three thirty that morning.”

“Did you see the victim at any time after Tuesday night? ” When I shook my head, Sandy asked, “Can anyone alibi you while you were riding the bike?”

“Yes. A guy at the Gate station.” I nearly bounced in the torturous chair, excited to have something new to contribute. “I ran over some glass on Anastasia Boulevard and was afraid the front tire might be leaking. I went to Gate to air it up. I bought mints, too.”

“You get a receipt?”

I nodded. “I don’t have it on me, though.”

“No problem, but save it. It’s proof of your whereabouts if the witness doesn’t remember you.” She tapped a pen on the pad twice. “As I said before, the cops have had all day to conduct interviews, so they may or may not have some surprises. I have the funny feeling they will. If I don’t nod, you don’t answer.”

“I understand, but what about my GPS tracker? That should help prove I wasn’t near Yolette again.”

“The tracker can verify where you were but not where the victim was.” She stood, and so did I. “We need to know her movements before the tracker records will be of use.”

Confidence that I’d soon be off the suspect list dimmed, but I didn ’t have time to brood. We followed March to an interview room—different yet similar to the ones I’d seen on TV or read about. A rectangular table squatted just inside the door and flush to two walls. One rolling armchair sat at the far end of the table with three armless institutional chairs angled around it. At least the padding on those looked more substantial than the one I’d just left. No one-way mirrors in the room, but I’d bet cameras were hidden somewhere.

Only the tall, tanned, gorgeous guy standing in the middle of the room was a twist on the cop-shop decor. He looked a little Latino and a lot hubba-hubba. Sun-streaked brown hair swept back from a high, broad forehead, and aviator sunglasses perched on a perfect nose.

My own nose twitched at the scent of light musk. His cologne? I swear I had a hot flash as I slid into the seat March indicated next to Sandy. In dark blue jeans, a white polo shirt, and a deep olive sports jacket, Hot Hunk seemed relaxed, but I heard the air around him hum.

“Ms. Marinelli, Ms. Krause, we called a preternatural crimes special investigator out of Daytona to sit in. This is Deke Saber.”

Deke.
Pant.
Saber.
Double pant.
Could his name be any sexier? If the rest of him matched the packaging—

He didn’t sit but lowered his sunglasses to reveal cobalt blue eyes and stared at me for a long moment.

“
You’re
the big, bad vampire?” he snorted. “You look like a coed on a bad hair day.”

EIGHT

His voice was deep and mellow, but can you say attitude adjustment? So much for the inner man matching the outer one. Chalk it up to stress, but a piece of me snapped.

“That does it,” I said and slapped my hand on the table before I thought about it. Not all that hard, but Sandy and Detective March jumped. Sexy Deke Saber merely pushed his shades back in place.

“Francesca,” Sandy warned.

“Yeah, I know I’m not supposed to talk without your okay, but darn it, I’m ticked. It’s one thing to question me. I get
that.
I even get,” I said, pointing at March, “you two playing good cop, bad cop. But it’s another thing,” I said, glaring at sexy Saber, “to take cheap shots at my hair.”

Saber looked bored. Sandy groaned softly.

Detective March rocked back in his comfy chair and tapped a pencil on the white legal pad angled on the table. “Did Yolette criticize your hair?”

“Yolette?” I cocked my head at him. “No. Why would she?”

March shrugged, but Saber spoke as he took the last armless chair, turned it backward and straddled it. His hip holster and black gun handle flashed from beneath his sports coat. Probably to intimidate me. Hah! In his pathetic dreams.

“Who does criticize your hair?” he fired at me.

“Neil,” I said, feeling a touch claustrophobic with the men on my right and Sandy on my left. “I swear I’m straightening it first chance I get.”

This time Sandy stifled a chuckle. Saber didn’t.

“Neil Benson? The guy you surf with? The guy you found the body with?” he asked, rapid-fire.

“Yeah, that Neil. The only Neil I know, by the way.”

“You want to hurt him for insulting you, right?”

I blinked. “What the devil are you talking about?”

Saber shrugged and folded his arms over the chair back, nonchalantly as you please. “You’re the one who came unglued just now. You lose your temper often?”

“For your information, that wasn’t unglued, and it wasn’t temper. That was righteous indignation.” I looked pointedly at March. “Detective, you want to go home, and I need to be dressed and at work by eight forty -five. You have questions? Ask them.”

I think his mouth twitched as he looked at his blank pad. Then he was all business.

“Let’s start with this morning. You and Neil went surfing.”

I looked at Sandy. Her expression was stern, but her eyes twinkled as she nodded. I went through the story again, sticking to facts and nailing March with eye contact. He stopped me a few times to question details and jotted notes like mad. Saber straddled the chair, expressionless. I wished I could snatch those darn aviator shades off and see his eyes.

“So you felt something bump your foot, looked down in the water, and saw the body,” March said.

“Correct,” I confirmed for what felt like the tenth time.

“Then Neil suggested towing the victim to shore.”

“He didn’t suggest. He told me we couldn’t leave her and to take her arm and ride her in.”

“And while he removed his leash, you say you hugged the body to your surfboard. Why?”

“To keep it from banging into her.”

“But you didn’t want to do it, right?” Saber said.

“I didn’t want to touch her, if that’s what you mean.”

“Why not?”

“Duh. Dead person. Icky.”

“You’re dead.”

“Correction. I have a heartbeat, a pulse, and brain waves. I might be underalive, but I’m not dead.”

He frowned as if he’d never thought of vampires that way.

March cleared his throat. “We’ve been at this awhile. Would either of you like something to drink?” He looked directly at me. “We have artificial blood.”

Sandy audibly gulped—well, audible to me. I declined with my standard response. “I don’t drink in public, but I’ll have a cup of ice, if you have some.”

“Ice. Plain ice?”

I smiled. “It’s important to stay hydrated.”

Saber snorted, in disdain I suppose. An unattractive habit that—pardon the pun—made his sex appeal take a nosedive. March shook his head but went to the door and asked someone who must’ve been hovering for a glass of ice and bottled water. When our refreshments were delivered, March took over again. “Let’s cover the ghost tour on Monday night.”

Again, I went through the events in excruciating detail, including the confrontation with Stony. I did leave out the Jag Queens pulling weapons. I didn’t know the gun laws, and I didn’t want to get them in trouble.

“This man you call Stony,” Saber said, his tone cynical. “He verbally and physically threatened you, and you expect us to believe you didn’t retaliate?”

“I told him he had bad breath.”

Sandy covered another laugh with a cough.

“Describe Stony one more time,” March said.

“About your height,” I told March and jerked my thumb at Saber, “and his attitude. Dark hair, light eyes like blue ice. A scar on the right side of his face from about his ear to the middle of his jaw. Gravelly voice.”

“What about weight? How was he dressed?”

“I’m terrible at estimating weight, but he wasn’t fat. Maybe a hundred seventy pounds? Black turtleneck, black Wrangler jeans, and black tennis shoes. Not high-tops but not low-cut either.”

March thumbed his legal pad and pulled a sheet free. “This the guy?”

He slid a rough artist’s rendering across the table, and I picked it up. “Wow, that’s close. How did you get this?”

“I spoke with Jennie Freeman and Mick Burney.”

“It’s Janie. Janie Freeman. Not Jennie.”

“Right. Anyway, I also talked to the ladies who took the tour and the teenagers. They all confirm your version of the events, including the attack on you, and Stony sticking close to the newlyweds. We worked this up from their descriptions. Is it accurate?”

“I think his nose was a little longer and thinner. His hair might’ve been a little longer, too.”

“Would you work with our artist to refine the drawing?”

“Now?” I pushed the paper back to him.

“Tomorrow will be fine.”

“I can be here at eight.”

He nodded. “Good. Now, is the tour the last time you saw those three people?”

“I told you this morning I saw them at Scarlett’s, then again on the Tuesday night tour.”

“What happened at Scarlett’s?”

At Sandy’s nod, I went through the scene from the time Cami came out with the Starbloods bottle to the time I had it taken off the couple’s bill. Maybe repeating the story several times already had desensitized me, because I even got through the part about Yolette’s pass with relative ease. Relative being I didn’t stammer when Saber arched a haughty brow.

“So Stony threatened the victim,” March said. “What did he say exactly?”

“Close as I remember, he said, ‘I’ll kill you before you screw a vampire in my town.’”

“He said ‘in my town’? He lives here?”

“That’s the impression he gave. He sounded like a sheriff in an old B Western.” I smiled. “No offense.”

March flashed a tired grin.

Saber pushed up from his chair, and the legs thudded on the thin carpet. “Are you homophobic?” Saber shot at me. “Did the victim’s pass humiliate you?”

“Humiliate, no. Surprise, yes. I mean, a threesome on their honeymoon? Call me old-fashioned, but that’s just odd.”

“All right,” March said, “let’s go through Tuesday’s tour.”

I told him about the writers, about Yolette wanting Stony kicked off the tour, and about the apparent tiff between the newlyweds. Saber glowered and paced.

“So the guy you call Stony didn’t cause trouble Tuesday?”

“Not a bit. He and Gomer hung at the back of the group.”

“Who the hell is Gomer?” Saber snapped.

“One of the tourists reminded me of Gomer Pyle. His name is Holland Peters.”

“He on both tours, too?” March asked.

I nodded. “He told me Stony had been in Palatka and Hastings recruiting for the Covenant.”

March shot a glance at Saber, who shrugged and said, “First I’ve heard of it.”

Saber pulled a small square from his inner jacket pocket and shoved it toward me. It was a snapshot of a brunette woman with a pointed chin and flashing eyes.