by Rose Pressey
“I think he needs something else and this is just his way of trying to tell you.”
“I think he’s seeing someone else and is just trying to make it seem like it’s my fault if we break up,” Kitty said.
“Well, there is that. I won’t lie, it’s possible. Where is he now?”
“I don’t know. It was early and I was mad, so I didn’t ask. He took off in a huff.” She let out a little sniffle.
“Sorry, Kitty.”
“No, I’m sorry. You don’t need to listen to me complain right now. I mean, maybe he just isn’t the right guy for me.”
I didn’t know if I should take this opportunity to tell her I didn’t like him. No, it was too soon. They may still get back together and she’d only hold what I said against me.
The roar of the car pulling up alongside mine made me jump. My adrenaline shot up and I almost gave myself whiplash looking over to see who it was.
Chapter 51
I didn’t recognize the man. He was in a new black sedan. After a couple of seconds, he got out of his car, locked it, and smiled as he hurried past. He was dressed in khakis and a white polo. No tattoos, definitely not into the Rockabilly scene.
At this point, Kitty was rambling on about what outfit I should wear. I tuned her out and watched the guy hurry over to the sidewalk and then into the bar. Would he disappear like the rest? Heck, he had a fifty-fifty shot. Okay, I was being silly, no one had really disappeared. I was watching too many episodes of Murder She Wrote, or reading too many mystery novels in my spare time. What little spare time I had.
“Listen, Kitty, I’m sitting here in front of the bar, I need to go home and rest a bit.”
“How did things go this morning, by the way? I would have stopped by, but you know.”
“I know. You don’t have to come and support me all the time. I know you’re trying to be a good friend, but it’s not necessary.
“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to, okay?”
“Okay. Well, things went fine.”
“You hesitated. You wouldn’t do that unless something was wrong. What happened? Don’t keep any secrets from me.”
“I’m not keeping things from you.”
I hesitated again; I couldn’t help it.
“Spill it.”
“Well, this morning I think I saw Buzz in the park. Wait, let me back up. Last night when he followed me home, he kissed me.”
Kitty sputtered, choking on something.
“Are you okay?”
She coughed a few times. Finally, she said, “Sorry, I choked on my Diet Coke. I wasn’t expecting that. What? No, I take that back. I totally knew that would happen. You two have this thing zinging between you. You can’t deny it.”
“I don’t know why he kissed me or why I let him kiss me.”
“You make a cute couple, you know?”
“I’m not dating band members. I told you that, and I told him that.”
“Yeah, whatever you say.”
“I mean it, Kitty.”
“Okay, but how was it?”
I sighed. “It was wonderful.” Was I swooning? That sounded like a swoon. Next thing I knew, I’d call him dreamy. I looked around at his bike still parked in the same spot. Chrome and black metal shone in the sunlight. Where could he be?
“Tell me more.”
“It was delicate. He just pressed his lips to mine and they lingered there for a few seconds. His lips felt cool, in spite of the night heat.”
“Wow. What are you going to do?” she asked.
“About what?”
“About him.”
“I’m not getting involved, that’s what I’m doing. Now back to the story, he was in the park this morning, which wouldn’t be a big deal, but when I looked out the window I saw him talking to someone in a car that’s been following me.”
“My gosh, Veronica, someone is following you? Did you tell the police?”
“Yes.” Good thing I didn’t tell her about Pierce wanting me to help find the killer. She’d completely flip her lid. “But I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
“You can’t be too careful. After your apartment was broken into, don’t you think it means something?”
“I do, but I don’t want to stop living my life because of it. I’ve been hoping all of this would go away. Just somehow cease, and then I can go back to my normal life.”
“Sometimes things change, you know that. You’ll have a new normal now. Just like when Teddy died.”
I didn’t want to talk about my brother; I didn’t want to cry.
“I don’t want the new normal to be filled with chaos. I like my old normal.”
“It won’t be filled with chaos, but things have to settle down first. You discovered dead vampires. Things will be different for you now. You’ll always have the memory of it, but it’ll fade over the years.
“It wasn’t just a dead vampire; it was Johnny, someone who I worked closely with. And then Janey.”
“I know, listen, promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will, I promise.”
“And call me when you get home safely.”
“You’re not going to make me do that every time I go somewhere, are you?”
“Until mysterious cars stop following you, yes.”
“I asked Buzz why he was in the park and he denied being there.”
“Really? Are you sure it was him?”
“I’m positive. How many guys that look like him are walking around in the park next to my place?”
“Good point.”
“Okay. Listen, I have to go. I’ll call you.”
I hung up and backed the car out of the space. The thought of home had never sounded as good as it did now. I glanced in the rear-view mirror too many times to count. The ride home didn’t produce any car chases or any other weird incidents, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was the calm before the storm.
Before anything else, there was one thing I needed to do.
I picked up the phone. After enough rings that I thought I wouldn’t get an answer, she picked up. “Hi, Grandma Annie.”
“Oh, Honey. You lost the book.”
“What? How did you know that?”
“Sweetie, I could tell by your voice.”
“Well, do you happen to know where it is?”
“I’m a witch. I can only do so much with magic. If I knew where it was, I’d be psychic. If I were psychic, I’d pick the lottery numbers and be rich.”
“I’ll find the book, Grandma. I promise.”
“I have faith in you. But do try to hurry, Honey.”
“Okay. Listen, Grandma, I’ll call you later. I have a gig tonight with a record producer. Right after that, I’ll find the book.”
“Call me when you have it.”
After the call, I made a sandwich and skimmed through a magazine, then took a nap. Well, if you consider twenty minutes a nap. As I slipped in and out of sleep, another dream crept into my head, but I’d woken just as the dark shadow began its chase. The figure was after me, only I wasn’t me, I was Kitty. I didn’t know what it meant; the dreams and visions didn’t make sense. If only I had a way to decode them.
Having yet another dream was too much. I felt as if the whole situation was out of my control. I had to do something, so I decided to try magic—again. I might not have Grandma’s book, but I had some books. I’d tried magic so much I had a ton of spells memorized. Reciting them from memory was a piece of cake.
For the spell I’d attempt, I didn’t need a book. I might not be good at witchcraft, but no one could say I didn’t try. I was persistent, if nothing else. Since apparently I’d picked up some kind of psychic ability, I thought I’d give scrying another chance. I’d tried in the past, but nothing had happened. Zip. Nada. Perhaps this time would be different. Basically, it was like fortune-telling. Looking into a crystal ball, but it didn’t have to be a crystal ball, and in this case, my medium of choice was a mirror. I attempted to re
move all unwanted thoughts from my mind; I wasn’t sure that was even possible, but I digress.
With any luck, I’d see the exact location of the spell book. Using this method to out the killer would have been great, but baby steps for me. Baby steps….
Grabbing a mirror from the bathroom, I sat on the bed, and placed it on my lap. I closed my eyelids and took a few deep breaths. Once I opened my eyes, I asked for information leading me to the book. My reflection stared back at me. I tried to guide my mind to the psychic light deep inside me—well, supposed to be deep within me. I waited for an image, an impression, or something to appear. I’d take whatever I could get at the moment. As with every other time in the past, I felt my magic, but instead of a strong vibrating hum, it was more like an annoying mosquito buzzing around my head.
While in my magic trance, I could have sworn I saw the interior of a car for a brief moment. Maybe the book was in my car? No, I’d never taken it out of my apartment. Again, my magical energy wasn’t strong enough, and I was fairly confident it never would be. The only image that appeared in my head was the freaking interior of a car? Why was I not surprised?
All the mirror did was allow me to have a glimpse at my face. Disappointment, stress and worry written all over it. It was the same disappointment I saw on my parents’ face every time they asked if my magic had improved.
I picked up the tube of lipstick that had appeared next to me. Another Shell Pink, I’d gotten a lot of them lately. I set the tube on the dresser, then trudged to the bathroom and placed the mirror in its original location under the sink. If I had time later, I’d try another spell with my herbs and incense. Like I said, I’d always been determined—and maybe a little unwilling to accept the truth. A protection spell—something strong—would do me good. If I cast enough of them, one would stick eventually, right?
One thing was certain about my current state of affairs, I needed answers. Who had followed me in the strange car? Who’d broken into my apartment? How were these things connected to the recent vampire killings? And the big question: who was the killer? If I didn’t want to end up toe up in the morgue, I’d have to figure out who had it in for me on my own. I couldn’t rely on help from the police, or the FBVI. And where was the IPCI, anyway? Any other time, they’d be all over something like this.
Chapter 52
Before the show, I needed a long, hot bath. I poured my favorite coconut scented bubble bath under the streaming water, and then lit candles all around. I slipped into the water, took a deep breath, and exhaled. The scent filled the room and I tried to daydream of a tropical paradise—Buzz may or may not have been in attendance. But as I let the suds soak my aching muscles, the good daydreams vanished and were replaced with apprehension. My mind churned over all of the facts I’d accumulated so far. First of all: the car following me. Anyone could be behind the wheel. But it was odd, to say the least, that the first vampire victim had owned the car. I needed to talk with someone who knew the first victim; someone who could tell me who bought his car. Kitty had mentioned she thought she’d seen the car before. But with the rockabilly scene, we saw a lot of old cars. It was hard to be sure.
And someone had definitely slipped around the building and had been watching me. I saw the creep with my own eyes. Why would they stalk me unless they wanted to kill me? And last, but definitely not least, Buzz. Was he into criminal activity? Whom had he been hiding from?
I toweled off, then slipped on pink sweatpants and my Veronica and the Voodoo Zombies t-shirt. Heat hovered in the room, so I flipped the switch on the air conditioner and listened to the ancient thing sputter to life. I plopped down on the bed. I felt I could tolerate the car following me for now as long as that’s all they did, but my top priority was to find the killer. My life may depend on it.
I pulled a pad of paper and a pen from my nightstand. At the top, I wrote Clues, then underlined it. My official mystery solving list; I loved lists. If I wrote down everything I knew so far, maybe I could piece together more information that way. Time ticked by quickly for me to find some answers. I sensed it.
With paper in hand, I scribbled down all the clues swimming around in my head regarding Johnny’s murder.
Number one: A gray car in need of a paint job with a creepy skull on the dashboard followed me. As if out of nowhere, too. Tattoo Red said the first vampire killed had owned it.
Number two: Johnny’s bass was left at my apartment. The killer wanted me to know they’d been in my place. Therefore, they knew I’d discovered the body. Had they seen it on the news? Hell, the killer probably didn’t watch the news.
Number three: The flyer with my picture marked out. That meant one thing: they wanted me dead.
Number four: The psychic warned me about the music man. And I’d somehow warned myself when the words popped in my head. But in my business, that could be anyone.
I needed to find out who drove the hot rod. There had to be a connection. I’d call around and see who knew the car. Cars like that don’t go unnoticed and the rockabilly scene around here was a tight-knit little circle. Someone would have the info.
But before doing anything else, it was time to prepare for my big evening. Craig and Frank called, I suppose anxious at what the night might produce. My black cotton dress had a full circle swing skirt with a gathered halter bodice and a beautiful red tie in the back. Red cherries dotted the fabric. The bodice pushed up my cleavage—I needed all the help I could get. The dress was comfortable, yet sexy enough to wear on stage. In order to save my feet from agony later in the night, I slipped on red wedge heels; the platforms were cork. Granted they still had four and a half inch heels, but at least it was evenly distributed.
My necklace had a skull with roses, mimicking the tattoo on my arm. My hair had finished drying, so I needed to decide which style I was going to go with. I’d narrowed it down between two. Every rockabilly female wears their hair in roll curls, so that was a given. I took out the big rollers and grabbed my comb. In order to get the volume I needed, I had to tease a lot. An occasional headache from trying to add height wasn’t unheard of. After teasing until my arm felt as if it would fall off, I rolled my bangs into a tube with the round hairbrush.
I grabbed a few bobby pins, stuck them between my lips, and carefully stuck them one by one into the roll, securing it to my head. Once safe, I placed the big red rose to the side of my hair and gave my head a generous misting with hairspray. Makeup on—with red lipstick, of course—a dash of perfume and I was as ready as I’d ever be.
I wasn’t normally nervous until I hit the stage. I loved performing in front of an audience and once I got started, I rarely got the butterflies, but tonight was different. A lot was at stake, I’d worked hard for this opportunity. And something like this only came around once—twice at most. The faster I got to the club, the better off I’d be. At least at the bar, I’d find things to keep my mind occupied.
I hurried down the stairs. Mrs. Stevens stood at her front door, as if waiting for me. She must have had my schedule taped to her refrigerator; she knew my every move. I didn’t have time to talk; I knew she just wanted to chit-chat and guilt would eat away at me that I didn’t have time. Maybe I needed to have tea with her someday. Her children didn’t come around often.
“You look just like my sister when she was your age, especially with the clothes and hair. I didn’t think they wore clothes like that anymore.”
I glanced over her shoulder into her apartment. The entire space was filled with so much bric-a-brac it was hard to pay attention to a word she said. The blood red walls made it hard to focus on anything other than the color. Creepy dolls lined the shelf on the wall behind her. Their eyes seemed to watch my every move.
I smiled. “Well, most people don’t, Mrs. Stevens, but they don’t have good taste, now do they?”
“You got that right. Where are you headed to this evening? A date?” Her eyes widened.
Sorry I had to burst her gossip bubble. “Afraid not, I’m singing over at
The Lipstick Lounge.”
“What do you sing again, dear?”
“Rockabilly.”
“Oh, yes, the swing dancing.”
I laughed. “Yes, the swing dancing. I’d love to stay and chat, Mrs. Stevens, but they’re waiting on me. We’ll have a chat sometime soon.
“Lovely, dear, that would be lovely.” She waved as I closed the door. I locked it behind me and hurried across the path to the Bel-Air. When I reached the car, I noticed a white piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper, kind of like the one I’d left on Monty’s truck earlier in the day. He never had called, but the note may have blown away. I looked up at the trees. No leaves seemed to be blowing.
I adjusted the purse strap on my shoulder and pulled the paper from the glass. I opened my car door and slipped behind the wheel, laying my purse down on the seat beside me, but keeping the note in my other hand. Before turning on the ignition, I unfolded the paper. It was written in black marker. Someone had taken their time preparing the message for me because the paper was folded with methodical precision.
The message read: You’ve made a mistake and you’ll be sorry. A chill ran down my spine. Someone had been near my car, just as they’d been in my apartment. I felt violated. Emotions overwhelmed me. What did it mean? I looked over my shoulder. Was someone watching me? The warning was creepy as hell.
A couple of women walked side by side in the park. Other than that, no one was around. I felt guilty for putting Mr. Cooper and Mrs. Stevens in this situation. I was putting their lives at risk, too.
Why was someone doing this? What had I ever done to anyone? I didn't know what to do first, so I turned on the car and didn’t waste any time pulling out onto the street. There was no time to waste looking for the author of the note; I had to make it to The Lipstick Lounge. Frank would call soon wondering where the hell I was. And that’s just the way he’d phrase it, too.
My thoughts whirled. I needed time to cool off and think about my game plan—plot my next move. Did I have a next move? If not, I needed to think of one, like yesterday. Of course when I felt pressure was when I was least likely to come up with any solutions. I’d never been that great with problem solving. In stressful times, I liked to curl up with a book and eat chocolate. Sometimes, I’d go for a long walk in the park. I sure needed one of those right now.
