by Traci Wilton
“I was fourteen, in my defense.” She giggled. “Just a kid. And I had a crush on Josh, who liked my friend Trish.”
“The things we do for love.” Which brought Jared to mind. What she’d do to have him back for a minute, or a day.
Charlene parked in front of the teen house. Avery hopped out and got her bike on the sidewalk, waving goodbye.
“See you tomorrow!” Charlene shouted with the window half down. Once the girl was inside, she drove home, chuckling over her comment of being just a kid.
After the car was parked in the stand-alone garage, she hurried inside. Only a few dim lights lit the place, no sounds from a TV or music or laughter greeted her, and as always when her guests left, it seemed too empty.
Jack drifted near her and whispered, “Welcome home. Stop fretting. You’ll have a full house tomorrow. Let’s enjoy tonight—we don’t have to hide in your suite or the wine cellar to converse.”
At that, she locked the front door behind her with a lighter heart. “You’re right. That is a perk.”
“I have a fire lit in the living room.”
“Thoughtful as always. Just let me heat up some dinner.”
He followed her into the kitchen and as she warmed Minnie’s chicken pot pie, he poured a glass of wine for her. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “You won’t believe what happened tonight.”
“Pirate’s Cove. Was the place a dive?”
“I thought it might be, but it was actually really cute. Like the inside of Aladdin’s lamp. Until . . .”
“Until what?”
She shivered and shook her head. That whole stinking mess at the Pirate’s Cove would probably scar her for life. Nice guy like that, chopping up poor Kendrick George and making appetizers out of him. Freakin’ crazy!
“Let’s save it until after I eat.”
The kitchen table was set and Jack took his usual seat opposite hers.
Charlene removed the pie from the microwave and jumped as whiskers brushed her leg, followed by a hearty purr. Silva had emerged from wherever she’d been napping, tempted by the smell of the savory chicken. “Hey, baby.”
Jack said, “Celeste and Asher showed up?”
“Bringing Elisabeta—she was onto me from the start.” Her cheeks heated as she recalled the mortification of being discovered and called out for it.
“Oh no!”
Charlene cut a little piece of chicken for Silva and put it in her dish. It was attacked and gobbled up before she could place her own dinner on the table.
“Elisabeta wanted to make her point, believe me.” Charlene sat down with her wine, sipped, then bit into her pot pie. “But as strange as that all was . . . well, the guy who served us was certifiably crazy! Made our vampires look like saints.”
He laughed.
She spilled what had happened and how, ending with the cops dragging Callum away. The shock of it still made her queasy. She pushed aside her plate.
Compassion showed on Jack’s handsome face. “I’m so sorry, Charlene. What a horrifying experience.”
“It was—but worth it.” She straightened and focused on the positive. “I learned a lot.”
“Like?”
“We’d considered that Elisabeta and Asher might be working in tandem. The more I think about it, the more I believe that Asher is our killer.”
“He was at the Hawthorne Hotel for the witch ball,” Jack said, raising a finger.
“Where Celeste overheard him arguing with Alaric about Alaric choosing Serenity over him and Elisabeta.”
Jack raised a second finger.
“Alaric, in that same argument, told Asher to continue the plan, which I think alluded to them all being immortal, eventually. Maybe Asher didn’t agree?”
Jack didn’t add a third finger. “Not strong enough.”
“What about the money he flashes around? Where does he get it? Security jobs online? Joey is right; that could mean anything . . . Maybe he cracks online security?”
“Too nebulous. The fact is, Asher drinks blood.” Jack added a third and fourth finger. “The guy seems guilty just from that. And his hold over Celeste?” He lifted his thumb as well. “I can see it.”
Charlene sipped her wine. “And to top it off, Elisabeta didn’t know Orpheus was dead.”
“It’s really too bad that you can’t text Sam about this.” She agreed, but she hoped to return to their friendship once this case was over. “I’ll see him tomorrow at three.” Hopefully nothing terrible would happen between now and then. “Did you read Patrick’s book?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m interested in your take on it since you’ve lived here your whole life. What did you do this evening?”
“I was researching that skin disease. I would love to help find a cure. Charlene, it’s miserable for people who have it, and so they live afraid of the daylight. In medieval times, they probably only went out at night, which would have made them true monsters. At least in this time in our history, they can cover up. Stores are open at night, restaurants. But still . . .”
“His mother, Melissa, probably gave Allan a story to make his suffering bearable. And somehow that turned him into believing he was a vampire.”
“Another monster.” Jack rubbed his jaw. “Reading the case studies has made me melancholy. Did I waste my life? Not do enough for humanity—I went to Harvard. Returned home to Salem to buy a big house. Married a beautiful but vain woman.”
“Jack. Don’t ever say you wasted your time here. It’s not true! You lived a full life while you could. You gave to charities. You were a caring doctor.”
“I’d like to go back and do things differently.” He propped his elbow on the table.
“We can’t change the past.” They both knew that very well.
“Or . . . there’s no reason why I can’t continue to expand my knowledge and do more.” He lifted his gaze. “These days doctors are online. I don’t have a current license, but maybe there is some way I can help people over the internet. They don’t need to see me.”
“Let’s look into it, Jack.” She wished she could hug him. He’d had a temper when they’d first met, but it had waned once she’d discovered his killer. “You need a purpose, besides just hanging out with me and Silva.”
“Do you think I could do it?” His image wavered.
“I know so. And how lucky for us to have a doctor in the house.”
* * *
Thursday went by in a blur of greeting guests. Avery and Minnie had prepped the rooms with fresh flowers and the folder of what to do and where to eat, the happenings surrounding Salem. Clean linen, fluffed pillows, wine, chocolates . . . each space was an oasis.
“Nice group so far,” Jack said as she got ready to leave for the police station. Avery was at the kitchen table with a slice of pie. Today she was dressed in jeans and sweater—nothing crazy, though she’d dyed her hair a silvery purple.
“You’ll be okay? I feel terrible that I have to leave with another couple still to arrive.” She’d never left Avery in charge and didn’t like putting that much responsibility on the girl. Sam had left her no choice.
“I can handle it,” Avery said, her shoulders back, her head held high. Pride shone from her eyes.
“She can handle it,” Jack agreed. “I’m here too.”
Charlene nodded, confident in the two of them. “Call me if you get stuck or need something. I’ll text on my way home.”
She left the house with great reluctance but knew if she tried to back out of the three o’clock appointment, Sam would probably send Officer Jimenez after her. That woman wanted nothing more than to lock Charlene up and toss the key.
Arriving at five till at the station, Charlene entered, not bothering to hide the chip on her shoulder.
“Hello,” she told the receptionist—a different young woman than the last time. “I’m Charlene Morris. I have an appointment with Detective Holden.”
“Have a seat.” The woman, so preoccupied with ente
ring information into the computer, didn’t even glance her way.
For that, Charlene didn’t bother politely saying “thank you” as she took the farthest chair along the wall. The waiting area was crowded with bedraggled people—a mix of men and women, all annoyed at having to sit and cool their heels.
She shifted on the hard plastic. There was no paper to be read or magazines—most folks scrolled their phones. Taking hers out, she played solitaire to pass the time.
Twenty minutes later, the receptionist called, “Charlene Morris.”
She hopped up and made her way through the sea of extended legs. “Pardon me. Excuse me.” It wasn’t their fault she was in a bad mood. Besides, manners had been ingrained in her from childhood.
Her chip had grown to be the size of Texas by the time she reached the desk. Charlene couldn’t wait to let Sam have it.
She recognized Officer Bernard, a polite man from Haiti who’d always treated her kindly, and gave him a pleasant smile.
He tipped his head. “This way.”
She followed him down the hall to the right, where Sam sat behind his desk. She noticed the piles of papers stacked up to his elbows, and behind him a hodgepodge of file folders.
“Ms. Morris,” the officer announced as Charlene strolled forward, stopping an inch from his desk.
Sam looked up without his customary smile. “Be seated.”
She did. Her anger at him dissolved a little, seeing the amount of work scattered all over his office. Guilt sunk in. The wait had nothing to do with teaching her a lesson, only being overworked.
“You’ve been busy.” She swallowed back an apology, still ticked that he’d forced her hand.
He didn’t answer but continued reading a piece of paper.
Her unease grew and she knew she wouldn’t be giving him a piece of her mind after all. She schooled her features and waited for him to speak, treating him with the professionalism he deserved.
Minutes later he swapped what he’d been reading for a report from the stack at his elbow. “I finally had a chance to go through this. Thank you for bringing it in. You mention a book in Orpheus’s room. There was no book.”
“There was—on the bed. Orpheus knocked it over”—when Brandy was interrogating him—“and I picked it up. I set it on the table before we left.”
Sam smoothed his mustache and lasered her with his brown-eyed gaze. “Not there. I checked in evidence and his possessions in the morgue.”
“I have no idea what happened to it, but it intrigued me so much that I bought my own copy from Lucas Evergreen. I have the receipt.” Charlene folded her hands on her lap to hide her trembling fingers. It hadn’t been a crime scene at the time, so she didn’t understand his anger or his questioning.
“What else did you see in the room?”
“I told you. It wasn’t much.” She nodded at the report, which had been very thorough.
“Tell me again.”
Charlene went through everything, including the dirt on the boots and the cloak visible below the mirrored sliding door. “I thought that maybe Orpheus had been in Elisabeta’s home earlier that afternoon. That he’d been the man we saw running away from the upstairs window.”
“Why were you upstairs again?” His mustache quivered, but no smile was hidden underneath.
“Because we heard a noise and knew someone else was in the house, even though Elisabeta had said she was alone.”
“A smart person would have left through the front door and alerted the police if they believed something nefarious was going on.”
“Never said I was smart. Just curious by nature.”
He ignored her attempt at humor. “Did you see his face?”
“No. Which is why I’m not positive. Just a tall man in a vampire cloak. Possibly with dark hair. But now . . .” Now her money was on Asher.
Sam knocked his knuckle to the report. “I finally had the chance to interview Elisabeta Sala.”
“When was that?”
“This morning. She showed up with an alibi on her arm. Asher Torrance. Said they were together all night.”
“Well, that’s not true. Asher was with my guest, Celeste. They were together after the ball.” Charlene leaned forward. “Asher and Elisabeta were in a vampire coven with Alaric in New Orleans. Asher stayed with Celeste the last few nights at my B and B.”
Sam’s jaw clenched. “He signed a statement saying otherwise.”
“Celeste heard Asher argue with Alaric about Serenity. Elisabeta was jealous of her. That’s why I wondered if they were working together against Alaric.”
“What else?” Sam tapped the desktop.
“They all expected to eventually be together as immortals. Oh, I forget what Celeste said exactly, but something about the plan would go on.”
“Celeste’s last name and number?”
“Celeste Devries. Just wait a sec while I get her number.” She pretended not to hear him tapping his pen on the desk and muttering under his breath. His impatience had her jumpy, but she found the number as quickly as she could.
“I’m worried about her. These crazy vampires are able to control the women that fall for them. How do you think they manage that, especially with someone as strong as Serenity?”
“Drugs?”
“She said that they didn’t do drugs, and I believed her.”
“Hmm.” Sam’s focus was beyond her at the wall of files that tipped to the right.
“I wonder how they get their money. No one seems to work, but they can afford to rent expensive housing. Granted, they probably spend little money on food, since they prefer blood, but they flash around jewels and cash.”
“What sort of jewels?” Sam alerted like a coyote to a rabbit. “Elisabeta had plain rings on this morning. I checked. Gold, silver, platinum. Titanium.”
“Orpheus’s earrings were at least five karats each. Elisabeta also had diamonds and emeralds when I saw her last night. Alaric had given a star sapphire to Serenity on the night of the ball. He claimed it was a family heirloom, and she was to use it for the spell later.”
Sam jotted that down on the back of a folder. “Does she still have it?”
“I don’t know. Probably.” Charlene shrugged. “I can ask her if you want.”
“I don’t understand this whole vampire thing. What’s wrong with meeting a nice girl and drinking a good bottle of wine together? Am I just old-fashioned?”
She shook her head. “Nope, I kind of like that.”
“My sworn duty as an officer of the law is to discover who killed Allan Mayar, not to pass judgment on his lifestyle. Between you and me, this is a tough case.”
“Sam, I wonder if you’ve checked his medical history? There’s an actual skin disease that blisters in the sun—it’s an allergy of some kind. It’s possible that he really had a physical reaction to sunlight.”
“How do you know about that?”
“I was curious as to why Serenity would believe Alaric’s vampire story. Both she and Elisabeta agreed that he had a severe reaction to the sun. It added to his vampire persona.”
“Your curiosity is going to be the death of you, Charlene.”
She bit back a smart remark and said, “I’m careful.”
“Like last night at the Pirate’s Cove?”
“I had my pepper spray and I was in a public place surrounded by other people.”
His stare couldn’t be colder. “It sounds like you at least gave it some thought.”
Oh! She pursed her mouth.
Sam dug through the papers on his desk and dragged out a black-and-white photo taken from a security video camera.
“Do you recognize this man?”
Charlene accepted the photo. “It’s Orpheus.”
“Real name is Carl Stephenson. He’s from Alabama originally, before moving to New Orleans. The earrings he was wearing the day he died were part of a jewelry heist done by a theft ring called Night Shadows, three years ago.”
Charlene studied the
grainy photo. Orpheus wore black-on-black. If he hadn’t glanced at the hidden camera, it would have been difficult to identify him. His hair was covered by a sleek black knit cap.
A smaller figure followed behind him. Not Alaric. More feminine.
Elisabeta?
“This is why we haven’t announced his death—we’re working with the police in Louisiana. You told me last night that Elisabeta thought that Orpheus had returned to New Orleans. I couldn’t ask her directly this morning without causing suspicion or playing my hand.”
“I see.”
“I’d appreciate it if you continued to keep quiet about it.”
“Of course!” Why was he telling her this?
“The book was missing from Carl Stephenson’s hotel. The clerk swears she didn’t take anything out. I’m going to tell you something else that needs to stay between you and me.”
Tingles raced across shoulders. “All right.”
“Carl didn’t jump to his death. He was already dead before he was pushed off that balcony. We got the report back from the coroner yesterday. He’d been choked.”
Charlene, chilled, stared at Sam in dawning horror. “Somebody was in the room with us? In the closet?” Fear rocketed through her.
“A strong someone.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s very important for you to tell me exactly what you saw. Go through everything one more time. You have to realize the danger you and Brandy might be in. I saw a decanter and glasses out in the room.”
“He offered us wine. I didn’t want any, but Brandy said yes . . . then she didn’t drink hers.”
“That’s a good thing. It had GHB in it.”
“What?” Brandy’s witch senses must have cautioned her from drinking the wine, though she hadn’t said as much to Charlene.
“That’s the reason I asked about the drugs with Serenity. GHB can lower your inhibitions. It’s why it’s called the date rape drug. You go along with anything—even trying to kill a pretend vampire.” He pounded his desk with his fist. “You realize that Serenity would have killed him to make him immortal?”
“We don’t know that for sure.”
He gave her an icy glare that made her shrink back in the chair. “Are you trying to scare me, Sam? I already am. You don’t have to be heavy-handed.”
