The Nefarious Necklace, page 4
“But not so close that you and I can’t have that dinner tomorrow night, I hope.”
And just my luck, that was when Alex joined us. Not that I was hiding the fact that Gabe and I had plans; it just hadn’t come up. And it wouldn’t have ever come up if Alex would ask me out. But he hadn’t, and Gabe had. And I really liked Gabe.
The two men nodded a greeting.
“You bailing me out, Mallory?” Alex asked.
“Nah,” I said. “They’re just done with you.”
Gabe removed a small pad and pen from his breast pocket, opened it, and made a few notes. “I need you to answer a few questions, since I’m technically interviewing you now. What’s the connection between you and Tabitha Waters?”
“I didn’t know her.”
“But Tabitha is a member of the same paranormal society as Mallory and I.” Alex shifted closer to me. He’d done that before with Gabe, gotten all weirdly proprietary. Weird, because Alex and I weren’t an item. On-again, off-again partners with shared secrets, but definitely not an item. I could be interested—who was I kidding? I totally was, but then he hadn’t seemed interested, and then Gabe asked me out… I sighed. Alex was complicated.
“Mallory?” Gabe said.
“Sorry.” I focused on the here and now. “Long story short, I’m sure I would have met her eventually, but as it is, I didn’t even know her name until this morning.”
Gabe made a note and then asked, “And Bitsy Jenkins? Are you familiar with her?”
“Familiar, yes. We have a mutual acquaintance, but I’ve never met her either.” I met Gabe’s yummy, warm brown eyes, and asked, “Is that good for now? You have my details, and we can always get together later to discuss it further.”
No sooner had Gabe released us than Alex turned on his heel and left. I shot Gabe an apologetic look and hurried after Alex.
When I caught up, I noticed we were heading to my Grand Cherokee. I looked around to make sure I wasn’t accidentally sharing his super secret, then asked, “So, what do the local spooks have to say?”
“Spirits. They’re not the same as ghosts—which is what I assume you mean when you say spook?” Alex held out his hand for my keys.
That was one of our things. He had control issues and wicked reflexes, so he always drove regardless of whose car we were in.
I dug the keys out of my jeans pocket and chucked them at him. “Okay, what do the spirits have to say? Surely there were some floating around this area.”
He nodded and unlocked the car. “A person, identity unknown but in manly clothing.” He caught my gaze and shrugged. “Spirits aren’t always good with details or all that cooperative. It just depends on which ones happen to be in the area. This manly clothing-wearing person drove Bitsy’s car to the lot this morning, went inside the hotel, and returned with a body. Get this, he then left and came back, parked, popped the trunk, and walked away.”
Alex got in the car, so I hurried around the front and got in. “How are you not excited? That has to be the killer. Bam, a big clue right off the bat.” I had to restrain myself from doing a happy dance. Partly because Bitsy didn’t appear to be the killer—not if manly clothes meant a man—and that meant one of Gladys’s buddies was in the clear. Also, I loved clues.
“More than one clue, several clues. Possibly a man—we’ll call the ‘manly clothing’ clue more evidence for a male perpetrator than against. A perpetrator who wanted the body for some reason but also wanted Tabitha found without risking returning her to her room. But we still have no idea who that man was and no idea who killed Tabitha. Our driver could have simply been part of a body disposal gone wrong.”
“Oh, but there’s video. If the video cleared you, then it has to have a clue as to the real killer—or the body dumper.”
“Not if our manly clothing-wearing person masked himself from the camera.”
I’d forgotten about that. It had come up in a previous case, my first case. “Is it only vampires who have that ability?”
“Anyone with skill in illusion and witches. And if a witch can do it—”
“Anyone can buy it.” I sank down in my seat. That was just disappointing. Not that I hadn’t benefitted from witch services myself, but it was disheartening to see our suspect pool grow so quickly.
“You’re learning. So give me a recap of what we do know, without the wild leaps to unrealistic and unprovable conclusions. We’ve got twenty minutes of road time to fill.”
“Wait, where are we going?”
“To interview another suspect, Blaine Waldrup.”
I didn’t have any proof that Bitsy was dead, and the evidence we did have not only failed to conclusively prove her innocence but it also wasn’t something we could openly share. Alex’s spirit sources were very much on the down-low. And now we were off to interrogate Blaine and treat him like the suspect he was. Gladys wouldn’t be pleased.
I began to envision what it might look like to have Gladys as an enemy. It didn’t seem like a good idea.
6
Baby Fangs Strike Again
I’d just finished recapping what Alex and I knew—not very much—when some serious holes emerged.
Since Alex had told me he was on a case this morning, I’d been assuming the case was Tabitha’s—but that didn’t fit. “How did you find out about Tabitha’s murder?”
“I drove into a parking lot filled with cops,” Alex said.
“You said you were on another case and that was why you couldn’t handle Gladys’s. Was Tabitha a part of the other case?”
“I’m technically on a few cases now, but Tabitha was helping me with one you’re already familiar with. I’ve been trying to track down the rest of the stones.” Alex shot me a quick look, then turned his attention back to the road. “You remember, the amethyst necklace that was disassembled.”
Of course. I’d forgotten about the infamous Bethia Belleau, succubus extraordinaire, mistress to the rich and famous, and owner of a fabulous amethyst necklace. At least, she had been back in the eighteen hundreds.
“Yeah that might have slipped my mind in the bustle of winding up that last case.”
“And dating.” He didn’t look particularly concerned by the fact. And yet he’d mentioned it.
“We haven’t actually made it to the first date yet, but, yes, I’ve had a lot on my mind. What does Tabitha have to do with the missing stones?”
“She was a succubus.”
After I picked my jaw up off the ground, I said, “I’m sorry—what?”
His lips twitched. “Don’t sound so shocked. How is she any different from a vampire?”
“Uh, death. Killing people makes her different.”
“And there you go, making assumptions. Vampires have learned to sip to survive and have found alternatives to drinking from the source. Tabitha did the same.” He grinned and took a deep breath. “You should have seen her burlesque show. And the sex…”
“Ugh. Is there anyone you haven’t slept with in the Society?”
His eyes met mine. “You.” But then he turned his gaze to the road and my heart started beating again. “And I never had sex with her. Sex that depletes me physically doesn’t suit my particular lifestyle. The fact that succubi are fabulous in bed is a universal truth. Tabitha had a number of partners, in keeping with the ‘sip rather than gorge’ lifestyle, and I doubt you’d hear any complaints about the recovery period.”
Ick. Ick, ick, ick.
“Maybe if I had to drink blood to survive I’d get it, but I don’t. It sounds disturbing on a very personal level.”
“You just have to think of sex as food.”
I tried—and failed. “Nope. That’s not working for me.”
“But for the grace of magic or DNA, or whatever it is that caused you blood aversion, go you.”
As usual, he made a good point. Sometimes Alex was a nicer person than me. Not that anyone else would agree, but I knew. “Fine, I’ll try not to get all judgy and holier than thou.”
“So big of you.”
I wasn’t trying to sound like a condescending twit, and yet... “Sorry. Really.”
He shrugged.
“Did she at least give you some good info, before…you know? Oh! And if she’s a succubus, can a vamp even drink her blood? I know vamps can’t drink vamp blood.”
“Vamps can drink succubus blood, witch blood, wizard blood, but not vamp because of the virus it carries, and not golem because they’re no longer alive. It’s my understanding that anything but human is less palatable and fails to meet a vampire’s complete dietary needs.”
Speaking of ick. All that talk of blood gave me a case of the creepy skin crawlies, but no nausea. Yay for me.
“You okay?” Alex asked. “You’re looking a little pale. I thought you were getting better. And what about your obsession with Wembley’s garage stash? Are you sure your blood aversion isn’t getting worse?”
“Hey, at least the upholstery isn’t plastered with…” I struggled to remember the last thing I’d eaten. “Ooooh. I might be hungry.”
And the more I thought about it, the hungrier I was. The slight, symmetrical pressure on my bottom lip could only mean one thing.
“Put the baby fangs away.” He glanced at me and then chuckled. “They still haven’t gotten any bigger.”
I would have said something snarky, but I hadn’t quite mastered speech while fanged, so I refrained. I dug in my purse hoping against reason I’d remembered to stash a bottle of veggie juice or a vegan shake. Something to take the edge off and make my fangs go away.
“Try the glove compartment.”
I know I didn’t stash goodies in my glove compartment; I’d have remembered that.
“Go on,” Alex said. “Wembley probably has a few bottles tucked away in the car somewhere, and that’s where I’d start.”
I popped open the glove compartment to find, wonder of wonders, a bottle of my favorite drink: spicy veggie juice. And none of that low-sodium nonsense. I’d determined through trial and error that this vegan vamp needed her sodium.
I downed half the bottle, not the easiest of tasks with fangs protruding—even baby ones. But then they receded. I could feel the lack of pressure on my lower lip.
“You know what this means, right?” Alex asked.
“That Wembley is a stand-up guy?”
Alex tilted his head. “Yes, but more than that. He cooks for you. He stocks your car with an emergency stash of food. He’s like your vamp mom.”
I knew where he was going. “Ugh. You’re right.” I sighed, perhaps a little dramatically. “I need to get over the blood in the garage. I shouldn’t inconvenience my roommate—”
“The best roommate you could possibly have.”
“Right, rub that in. But I do understand. I shouldn’t make getting his regular blood fix any harder just because I’m a little squeamish. But, hey, we might have unraveled another piece of my vampire puzzle. My fang display coinciding with a missed meal or two does make me wonder if I’m more susceptible when I’m hungry.”
“If you’d keep yourself well fed, that might solve more than a few problems, including your unpredictable fang flashing.”
He was right—but that required planning and preparation, not two of my strengths since I’d been turned. Pre-vamp me would have been on top of it, but vamp me found keeping a closet full of clean clothes and feeding my hound challenging enough in the planning department.
I swallowed another mouthful of juice. Being hungry sucked, so it seemed an easy enough choice. “I’ll try to eat better. You know, if Wembley’s my vamp mom, you’re like my paranormal pop.”
Alex winced. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. So what other unanswered questions are boiling in that brain of yours?”
“Actually, now that I think on it, how did Gladys know that Tabitha had been killed? I’m sure she checked her voicemail messages when I went outside to call you. But who called to tell her?”
“Information in the Society spreads much like gossip in a small town. It could have been anyone.”
I thought back to the timeline. “Could it, though? This looks like someone knew about Tabitha’s death before you. There’s a pretty narrow window of time when the mystery caller could have telephoned Gladys. I arrived around ten, and that’s probably when Gladys would have shut her phone off.”
“And I finally reached you via Bradley a little after ten thirty. One option is someone who was at the crime scene when I was there: a bunch of human cops, the witness who saw the trunk was partially open and looked inside—also human—and human paramedics.”
I looked out the window to find that we’d left the city. We were in the boonies. “So either a human contacted Gladys for some unfathomable reason or the killer did. But why? What possible good could that do him?”
“If it was Blaine, it could be as simple as damage control.” He altered the pitch of his voice. “I need your help, honey. I wasn’t involved with Tabitha’s murder, but they’ll suspect me. Convince your friend to prove me innocent.” Alex turned off the main road onto a country road.
I rubbed my forehead. “It just seems so far-fetched. Then again, if you’re right, we’re headed to a killer’s house.”
The Grand Cherokee started to bounce and vibrate as the paved road gave way to gravel.
“Don’t worry. There’s two of us and only one of him.”
“You’re not making me feel any better. Tangwystl!” I called my sword to me, a nifty trick I’d discovered a few weeks before. And just like the excellent little magical sword she was, she appeared in my right hand. I would never get tired of that trick. Especially since it was really hard to remember to bring a sword when you weren’t used to carrying one.
“You’re going into our interview armed with a blade?”
I glared at him. “Aren’t you?”
“Sure, but mine’s hidden.”
Nuts. He had me there. I’d have to figure out how to hide her. I knew she could do it, because Wembley had complained about the decade or two when she’d gone missing—except she hadn’t. She’d been hiding from him in a fit of pique over his perceived neglect. My sword had a little crush on Wembley.
“Fine. I’ll leave her in the car. I can always holler for her if we get in a tight spot.” I petted her grip and whispered an apology. She grumbled—something about blood, I’m sure—and then was silent.
Alex raised his eyebrows, but did not comment on the unlikelihood of me saving the day with a sword when he was around to do it ten times better. Maybe a hundred.
I blew a raspberry at him, but only because Tangwystl thought I should.
7
Used Car Salesmen Numbers One and Two
Alex pulled off the gravel road and onto a paved drive. A very long drive.
“Have you asked Bradley to pull information on Tabitha, Bitsy, and this Blaine guy?” I pulled out my phone, ready to text the master of cyber-research.
“I haven’t, and you won’t. These aren’t humans, Mallory. He shouldn’t be digging into their covers online. Not yet, and not unless we can give him a targeted search. But have him pull the police report, if he can. I doubt it will have any new information, but better to check. And if he can get that girl’s name, the witness who found Tabitha’s body, then have him pull a full background on her.” After a brief hesitation, he said, “And Gladys’s calls, incoming and outgoing, this morning.”
I tapped away on my phone as he spoke. I wasn’t keen on digging into Gladys’s phone records, and I had to remind myself that she wasn’t the client; she was the complainant. The Society was paying me. And then there was the simple fact that the truth mattered, even if it wasn’t something I wanted to hear.
I ended the text with xoxoxo, mainly because I knew it would drive Bradley a little nutty, and I was in that kind of mood. “And done.”
“Good, because we’re here.”
And were we ever. The place was huge. It looked like a colonial mansion, a little bizarre in the middle of Central Texas. Cooling the place alone had to be the equivalent of a monthly mortgage payment for a house in my neighborhood.
“Not sure how you can look so shocked,” Alex said. “You didn’t even see the golf course on the way in.”
“I’ll try to tone down my incredulity long enough to meet this guy, but I was already not liking him. A personal golf course in a place that suffers intermittent drought is not cool. Am I crazy or is that reason enough to find him guilty?”
Alex’s lips twitched. “I remember a time not so long ago when you criticized the Society’s lack of due process. Are you telling me that your due process concerns wane when they’re in conflict with your personal agenda?”
I threw open my door. “Central Texas drought, private golf course.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Two reasons I’m allowed to be judgy.”
Alex got out of the car and closed his door much more quietly than I had mine. “Come on. I bet they spotted us coming from halfway up the drive.”
And he was right. The front door opened before Alex lifted his hand to ring the bell.
And that was when I met used car salesman number one and his smarmy competitor, used car salesman number two.
Except they weren’t used car salesman; one of them was a candidate for the Society’s CEO position.
After ushering us into his massive entryway, number one extended his hand to Alex. “Blaine Waldrup. Alex Valois, if I’m not mistaken?”
Alex nodded and only briefly hesitated before shaking Blaine’s hand. Odd. I’d have thought a guy with political aspirations would know better than to shake hands. Or maybe it was a test. But if it was, had Alex just passed or failed?
Blaine turned expectantly in my direction.
Alex introduced me as his colleague, which was a pleasant surprise. When Blaine heard my name, his demeanor shifted subtly. I might not have otherwise noticed, but my meeting with Gladys had armed me with a little insight into CEO candidate Blaine Waldrup. He didn’t like different, and he didn’t think much of me.
